#retired soldier retirement veteran | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kneelingshadowsalome · 2 months

Note

What about princess reader who falls for Konig? He's a retired royal soldier (Bit of an age gap but I was thinking more like he was so good he was able to retire early) that she saw every once and a while and she does the typical "disguise myself as a commoner so i can sneak into town" routine and he pretends he doesn't know but he used to serve her family so ofc he fucking recognizes her

He tries to be gentle with her but honestly she should just be happy he isn't ratting her out to her family 🙄🙄🙄 (not that she minds)

CW: 18+ MDNI. Medieval AU, forbidden love, mutual pining, virgin!princess!reader x veteran!knight!König. Undefined age gap (reader is of legal age which means she’s "old" for an unmarried woman of this period). Reader is kinda coercive, König is implied to be a virgin too. Bittersweet romance vibes, brooding guy/gentle girl trope, ambiguous ending.

Word count: 6.4 k

You never thought you’d have the guts to slap a knight.

Violence is unladylike, and even if you’re a princess, it doesn’t mean you should force your status down someone’s throat like that. Far less his, the man you were taught to respect and listen to because he’s a man, and older than you.

The fact that he was also an anointed knight didn’t seem as important as the simple truth that he possessed a cock between his legs, and it always annoyed you to no end that this was the reason why men ruled the world. As a lady still unwed, you’re supposed to be afraid of cocks, especially if they’re old and gruff.

But you never were afraid in the presence of your father’s most loyal knight. He was your sworn shield too, and the only time he had been away from your side was when he asked to go on a pilgrimage to some chapel nearby. Said he wanted to seek forgiveness for his sins.

A man like him must have a lot to pray forgiveness for, but knowing that he could split a man in half with that greatsword of his doesn’t stop you from sneaking out one night as you follow him outside the castle walls and into the local inn.

Dressed as a stable boy, you watch with wide eyes how he gulps down three pints of beer and doesn’t turn any dumber from it. His speech never slurs, his shoulders never slump, but when some kitchen wench sits down beside him, your breath gets caught in your throat.

You look at the odd couple for a moment or two, watch how your father’s knight, the secret object of your silly daydreams, finally loosens the strings of his purse and offers the girl a copper coin.

It’s more than you can take, so you shoot up from your bench and march to him. The woman looks up at you with lousy disinterest as you ask the man of your dreams if he’d like to have another pint of ale. Your knight recognizes you immediately, even in your too-big tunic and your uncomely hose, even with that dirty felt hat covering your hair.

And he’s mortified, from what you can tell.

Both your eyes are wide now, and the woman beside him is smart enough to leave. She slides herself off the bench and sneaks past your side, and your valiant knight just looks at you, looks at you, looks at you.

You should be worried that he’ll snitch about your adventures to your father, but right now, all you can do is stare at him like he’s the thief, caught fresh and red-handed. Because he is a thief, and a devil, the worst man on earth when he was supposed to be the best. You snort to let him know how much you despise him—for coming here and bedding women for money when he’s supposed to be a sworn, celibate knight—but what truly hurts here is that he’s bedding someone else than you.

When you march out of the inn, he follows you, even dares to lay his hand on you by grabbing your arm outside. That’s when you turn on your heels and deliver a fat slap on his cheek, lightly stubbled and sweet, something you had hoped to plant a kiss on for many, many years.

“Your grace,” He grunts and rubs his chin, slightly amused. “Have I offended you?”

The slap couldn’t hurt that much, and this man never does amused. Even now, the mirth extends only to his eyes, never to his lips.

“You know perfectly well that you have, sir,” you clasp your hands in front of you, now entirely his princess even though you’re dressed like a peasant.

“My lady,” he bows both in body and in voice. “I truly don’t know what crime I have committed.”

You’ve never seen him so… jovial.

Usually this knight looks like there’s a stick up his ass, that someone pissed in his porridge and shat in his stew, that there’s nothing but hailstorms and calamity in his life.

Were you any more clever, you’d leave him be, but God has made it so that you’re drawn to battered and beaten animals. Of course you’re drawn to him too, lonely and spiteful as he is. This man broods so much you sometimes wonder if he’s the reason why it rains so violently up here in the hills. He probably summons dark clouds above the castle with those ponderous frowns alone – but now he’s looking at you as if he just woke up from the dead and walked into the shy sunshine after a long, harsh winter.

“You… You shouldn’t bed women,” you tell him, and he looks at you even more curiously.

“You shouldn’t pay for it,” you mumble next – unladylike, again, especially when your eyes turn to your shoes and away from that hawk-like, calm stare.

There’s a short silence after that, and you almost turn heel and walk back to the castle from the desire to escape the weight of his eyes. Eventually, he shifts his weight to the other leg and clears his throat.

“I sometimes pay for women to hold me. There’s nothing more to it.”

You raise your eyes to meet his, but the mirth is all gone now. It’s replaced by solemn acceptance, some sorrow you never even knew he had. Yes, he’s always silent and looks a bit pissed, but he’s not heartbroken, no, not your brave knight…

“To “hold you”, sir?”

The sorrow is covered with white lashes before you get to the bottom of it. Something tugs at the corner of his mouth—shame and frustration, probably.

“To hold me. Like a mother would. Is that a sin?”

His eyes search for yours from under dark brows, they beg for your consent as if it mattered to him. They’re quite catching, his eyes; enchanting in their intangibility. You know he doesn’t need your acceptance, nor is he threatened by your disgust. He’s unreachable, untouchable, forbidden—a mountain you can never climb because you wouldn't even find it among the mist. And those eyes see everything but feel nothing: they haven’t taken part in the troubles of this world in years.

…

He evades you for the whole of next week.

Leaves the hall if you choose to dine there, walks away when he sees you at the stables, looks through you if you have the courage to address him. You stand watch by the window every night to see if he slips out of the castle, but it seems your knight has lost his interest in kitchen wenches and copper hugs.

It burns like hot broth in your stomach, the thought of him in some other woman’s embrace. This mighty giant of a knight, kneeling in front of a girl, paying for her to simply put her arms around him.

You’re not sure if you’re childish to believe him and his words. To trust that he truly goes to them just to be held. You’re not sure if you’re the worst lover of poor, crippled creatures for not wanting to let him have even that...

Because you wish to hold him yourself, here, in the softest of all beds. Just wrap your arms around him after you’ve unburdened him of that heavy mail and thick gambeson; you’d help him with anything he needs. Let him sigh against you and have those lines of worry on his brooding face smooth somewhat. Maybe sing a soft song for him to help him sleep...

The thought of him being so lonely that he spends his wage on girls just to have a hug is driving you to madness.

It’s tearing you to pieces because he would never, ever have to pay you to hold him.

It’s forbidden, you know: this love you’ve harboured for years. He’s far below your rank, even as a bannerman, he’s far below you even if he’s taller than the tallest war horse in your father’s stables. He’s older than you too, but that’s hardly the biggest problem: your father took his second wife when he was five and thirty and the maid was seventeen. The match was considered perfectly normal, even healthy, but this would not. This would cause an outrage.

Oh yes, you’re to be wed far away to some sadistic young lord if your father has his way. You’re sure they’re already gossiping about it in the streets: how you should’ve been sold like a horse years ago. How is it that you’re still here, burdening the kingdom with your presence and swallowing up coin?

If they only knew that you’ve fought against every match with tooth and nail, the townsfolk would work themselves into a small uprising. And you’re not against marriage because you like it here so much... You’re against it because the knight who dresses himself in black mail and makes the servants piss themselves with his heavy footsteps alone makes your heart flutter like never before.

Your father would kill both of you if he knew.

And you wonder… What would he do? Your pale, brooding knight?

Would he scoff and turn his head away if he knew you dreamed of him before sleep, would he be appalled to hear that you’ve touched yourself to the thoughts of him? Would he think you a whore…?

You dress differently that night, the night you catch him escape the dull horrors of the castle once more. Boredom oozes out of the walls here, a poison of nothingness and despair. The stones won’t offer warmth, not even during the height of spring, so it’s no wonder that your knight is headed elsewhere for warmth and a mug of ale.

You dress accordingly to see what this toughest of knights is made of: with a brown woolen skirt and a white cotton blouse, you look the part of a kitchen maid who forgot half her garments at home.

People look at you in the streets, but without your usual attire and with your hair styled differently, they wouldn’t know who they’re looking at even if they saw you frolic around like this in court. You know they’re looking at you because you're a half naked woman ripe for taking, stubbornly out at night and dressed so suggestively it’s a miracle no guard rapes you before you reach the inn.

Maybe it’s the royal pride that keeps them away: you certainly look like you haven’t toiled in the fields or shoveled horse dung in your poor miserable life. There’s an air about you, and he notices it too, far before you’ve sat your pretty bum on the bench next to him.

“What are you doing,” he asks with a slightly alarmed voice.

He has that stick up his arse again, sits so straight that you’ve never seen such a ramrod back on anyone. When you set your hand over his, he only blinks.

“One silver to hold you, sir,” you lean to whisper on his skin, the shaved cheek you’ve wanted to kiss for so, so long. “What do you say...?”

He’s still breathing, even if there’s no sound to prove that he is. You can only see it from the rise and fall of his chest, covered by a stained, cream-white gambeson, that he’s breathing. He’s big, even without his armor, big and strong and intimidating, a tower of strength in one man.

“I cannot bed women,” he talks to the stout logs that make the walls of the inn, refusing to even look at you after one quick horrified glimpse.

“Who said anything about bedding?”

“This is a dangerous game, your grace,” he warns with a low purr when you won’t relent.

His voice is parched but smooth, and you smell smoke; delicious smoke from the fire that sticks to the clothes of a person who spends too many hours staring into a fire. You smell ham and earth and leather and sweat, horses and metal, the rusty stench of mail gone bad.

You wonder how you smell to his nostrils – is it something sweet? Fresh herbs and lavender oil maybe, or soft, spun wool, some tangerines and summer wine?

“I’m not your grace,” you tell him, nose now touching the bridge of his ear. “Not in here.”

You see from the turned sleeve of his padded tunic that the hairs on his arm are standing on end. His eyes are closed, and you can finally hear his ragged breaths. Desire speaks in them, or then you’re in over your head... Why else would he sound like that, like he’s already making love?

“One silver, sir, and I’ll hold you all night,” you repeat softly, and he swallows with a dry, open mouth.

“I don’t have such money on me,” he rasps, voice drenched in slow, drowsy want.

He wants this; wants, wants, wants….

“Really? Is my price too high?”

“Far too high for a man like me.”

You breathe a smile upon his skin, the place where his neck meets his jaw. Running your fingers across his wrist, you leave little to the imagination and you both know it.

“You can pay for the room and we’ll see how much you have left after that.”

“Princess, this is–”

“Hush.”

He’s in pain now, you can see it: the sharpness, the distant eagle gaze from his eyes is gone. He can barely keep his lids open, and when you peel the sleeve back with your hand, pet him like he’s one of your cats, press your lips on the spot you know is the most sensitive, he groans.

“You’re going too far,” he whispers, but won’t move. Breathless now, he can’t even speak with dignity. Gone are the distanced grunts and the composure, even the stick in his arse has melted away.

If a touch of your lips and the softest caress can do this to him, what would happen if you straddled his lap? How would it feel to be pressed against him, naked and entwined in a mutual embrace?

“You didn’t say no to that other girl,” you breathe more kisses on his skin. “Am I so horrendous…?”

“You–” he starts, opens his eyes somewhat. “You are teasing me on purpose.”

“You never were the brightest of my father’s knights,” you smile a little laugh in his ear.

He grabs his pint as if that could save him; out of fury or lust, you don’t know. And that’s when your little adventure gets interrupted: someone must’ve had enough of this disgusting display of seduction and whoring.

“Pardon me, lovebirds. The room’s a copper, if it please you,” a tired voice says from somewhere above. “And the ale is–”

“Ja, ja. I’ll pay,” your knight grunts with such annoyance that you’re not sure if he’s mad at you or the poor soul who interrupted you two.

Everyone here must think that you’re here to make some coin on a lonesome, desperate man. And he’s desperate, by God, he’s desperate… But when you walk upstairs and into your room, he takes a dip in cold waters without you knowing anything about it. When the door shuts behind you, your knight is back to the unbroken effigy he was last week, as he has always been.

“You sleep there,” he points at the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“There’s plenty of room on the–”

“One more word from that pretty mouth and I’ll tell your father what you’ve been up to.”

You’re sent to your bed without supper, in your silly clothes, and get to watch how he barely takes his boots off before setting himself down on the floor, back turned to you. The innocent question “You think my mouth is pretty?” only gets an irritated scoff for an answer.

From under the linens, you watch him sigh and slowly turn to stone on the cold floor. There’s a big rug there but it’s barely enough to keep the chill out, and the hearth is cold during late days of spring. You’re warm enough here under your sheet, but you would be warmer if your knight was here with you… Warm body against yours as you both hold each other through the night.

If only he could be enticed here by lying that you’re freezing... His honor would force him to share the bed with you, and your poor knight wouldn’t have to wake up with sore joints. The more you listen to him let out those occasional sighs, the more you want to shake this man. This silly act of martyrdom has to come to an end, now.

Slipping out from the warmth of your bed, you tiptoe to him. You know he can hear you, probably cursing in his mind with that crude foreign tongue of his. Laying yourself down behind him, you snuggle close until your front is glued to his back.

It must pain him to have a maiden leave the comfort of her bed and trade it for the dirty floor, but you wonder if there’s pleasure in the pain when your touch finds him once more. And it’s not just want and lust you feel when you place your arm around him. It’s not motherly love either, although you do feel like you’re embracing a giant child who doesn’t want to be comforted. You know nothing about how lovers touch or hold each other, you’ve never touched a man other than your father, and those touches were never affectionate and warm, those touches were barely there at all.

You wonder if you should be scared: you were taught that men will fuck everything that moves when given the chance. If a man of his size chose to take you here on this floor, there would be nothing left of you. Such an outcome seems dubious, however, when your sworn shield acts like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Let me hold you,” you whisper when he continues to be stiff as a rock in your embrace. “You don’t have to pay me. Surely you know that you don’t have to–”

He moves, and at first you fear he’s about to rise and dart to the door. Make a run for it and slam it shut because you pushed it too far, his dumb, danger seeking maiden.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he turns around and buries his face somewhere in your neck. He does it so forcefully that you’re almost sent to lie on your back, and you barely catch the naked pain in his eyes before a rough arm snakes itself around your waist and pulls you close.

Warm breaths hit your skin, sending all the little hairs in your body shooting up – were he to move an inch further down, his face would be buried in your tits…

And then come the tears.

You’ve never heard a man cry like that – well, you’ve never heard a man cry at all. You didn’t even know they knew how to weep. It’s like all the tears in the world are reserved for women and children because there’s no wetness even now: your knight cries in thick, dry sobs, shudders that shake the both of you, years and years of suffering sighed through gritted teeth and into your hair.

Slowly, so slowly, you place your arm around him once more. Your hand barely reaches the middle of his back, so vast is this man, now only a crumbling mountain in your embrace. But when you won’t waver, when you refuse to turn your tail and run, he slowly melts in your arms like spring snow.

He still breathes as if in pain, the sounds that come out of his mouth heartbroken and strained. You’re not surprised to see that even his crying is an act of violence; he’s a man inconsolable.

And yet, you console him. Comfort him. Like a mother, you stay and let him cry his fill in your ear as he clutches you, threatening to tear the back of your poor cotton blouse while doing it.

When he’s done, the shakes recede and his body is warm and calm, soft, almost. He pants and swallows, comes down from it with so much shame that you’re sure he has never done this with anyone, not ever before.

And then…

“I beg for your forgiveness, my lady,” he gruffs on your skin. “That was–”

“Shh... It’s alright.”

You caress the back of his neck, sweaty from the toil. He releases the fabric of your blouse only to grab it again in an even tighter fist. The face in your neck is buried deeper, his lips now pressed right over your throat.

“It has always been you, Geliebte... God knows it has always been you.”

You freeze in the middle of his confession, the panting on your skin intolerably thick now. When you swallow against his mouth, he pulls you against him, the body that used to be rigid and cold now like a hot, thick furnace, threatening to devour yours.

“You must know it too,” he whispers. “You must. You’ve seen my torment. Tell me you’ve seen it…”

He’s not demanding more than he is desperate, some dam suddenly being breached by a long-held flood.

If anything, you thought he hated you... You thought you were alone in your anguish, but it turns out he has carried the same soft secret all these years.

And it drowns you for a moment, his want and yours. Hands trying to touch whatever they can, mouth searching yours like he’s about to die if he can’t have a sip. You’ve heard what happens to women who allow themselves to get groped in dark hallways and winding steps; they hardly ever escape a man’s touch with their maidenhood still intact. And yet, this is what you’ve always dreamed of; a hot, blunt, forbidden encounter with this man.

Now that he’s finally on fire for you, you’re not so sure though. What if you’re about to mate with a beast?

“Sir…” you whisper when he plants trembling kisses down your throat. He thinks you’re only moaning his title in the throes of pleasure, and squeezes you against him so hard that a tight little whimper is squished out of your mouth.

“I’m–I’m untouched,” you tell him before he sends his face between your tits, and it finally has the effect you feared and hoped for.

He freezes too, in the middle of tearing down your blouse. A shivering hand releases the fabric slowly, reverently; it rises to cup your face as your flushed knight meets your stare with shame.

“Of course you are,” he hushes upon your lips, strokes your cheek softly. “I cannot bed you. I know. But let me…”

He blushes while searching for the right words. That’s the moment when you start to suspect if he’s ever even been with a woman. What kind of a womanizer would blush when they’re about to make love to a lady?

“Let me make you feel good,” he finally suggests. “I’ve heard… of a way.”

He almost stutters when he says it, and you wonder if this is what he’s prayed forgiveness for. If he’s been thinking about different ways of wrecking you so much that it’s enough to send him to hell…

“And then,” he continues, “we’ll never speak of this again. You’ll become my lady, and I’ll become your sworn shield once more. We’ll be as we always were. As it always was...”

You’re not sure if you like that – returning to your status quo, becoming who you were before clutching each other on the floor like mad animals about to mate. But you nod.

Whatever he wishes to do to you, it must be something good, and you trust him. Even after he showed you a side of him you’ve never seen before, you’d trust this man with your life.

Your valiant knight carries you back to bed, and delivers on his promise. He never undresses you, he never defiles you. He just lifts your ankle to his lips and gives it a soft, reverent kiss, grazes your shin with his mouth before starting to worship you like a pagan idol of old.

You don’t know where he heard about it–at the stables, or the kitchen, at the barracks or the taverns–but the way with which he makes you squirm doesn’t require a cock, not even a hand. His lips are gentle, but his mouth is hungry, and you don’t know how to feel shame when he’s buried under your dress like that. You can’t even see his face when he makes you his, claims you with his mouth alone.

It must be a sin to not take you like a man takes a woman on a wedding night; it must be a sin that it does not hurt at all, what he wants to do to you. But you don’t care. Love is much better and far messier than how they depict it in the songs, and no one ever talks about the noises a man can make when they pleasure a woman.

He groans like a beast, but moans like a whore – it sends a flush of hot blood up your cheeks to hear him so utterly needy and vile. Your knight who barely gave you a grunt as a greeting in your father’s hall now whines with a broken pitch between your legs. His hot sighs drown your own, and you thank Saint Mary and all the angels that there’s loud music and booming laughter downstairs. It’s still there, the dirty tavern, even if you’re being sent to heaven on this bed...

He gives you mercy only after you break upon his mouth with a series of tight cries. Spends a lengthy amount of time under your dress too, licking and kissing you clean.

He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to get out of there, but when he emerges, he looks like a drowned, happy puppy, this giant, brooding knight… The sight seizes your heart in a flaming hand that you know will never let go: it’s forever engraved in your heart, that drunken, devoted stare. You thought that men had the needs of an animal and that women were put on this earth just for them to have their fill, but when you look at your knight, it appears it’s the other way around... This man has finally found what he was looking for. Between your legs, he just found his Heaven on earth, his Holy Grail.

And so he returns from his quest with a devotion that leaves you breathless. Takes you in his arms like an injured bird, making you feel like it’s summer already, and the world is nothing but songs and tales and long nights of bliss.

“Know that I am yours,” he says. “Until my dying breath and even beyond, I’m yours.”

It’s a pledge, not a statement, and it’s said with so much weight that the vow he swore to your father pales in comparison.

“Sir... You always say such silly things,” you whisper back while lying in a pool of shimmering love, a heaven on earth indeed. Not even anointed, true to their faith knights talk like this… And he just smiles languidly when you raise a hand to brush his cheek.

He looks like another hug could save him, like a simple adoring stare from you is all that is needed to keep him going for another year. It irks you that he’s ready to settle for so little when you’re ready to give him everything he’s ever wanted and more. With what just happened, he’ll live on for a thousand, thousand years, he’ll survive even the coldest of nights – but you won’t.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you tell him, and a flash of fresh panic crosses his eyes.

“Süssling…”

He says it with worry, but does nothing when you send an exploring hand to his bulge. Drawing a sharp breath when you sweep your hand over it, he goes rigid again, this time for reasons other than just nervousness.

You’re younger and therefore more impatient, which means you’re at the strings of his pants in no time. He looks at your greed with a slack jaw and a set of furrowed brows, but never tries to prevent you. It only spurs you on that he’s acting so shy in front of an eager maiden when other men would already be bullying their cocks in your unexplored heat.

“This is madness,” he whispers when you pull out the heavy, hard cock that reminds you of the members you’ve seen on horses and bulls.

Of course the man’s big down there when he’s practically a myth walking… And there must be a way to pleasure him too, some lovely devilry that will leave you a maiden. A virgin for him to take on your wedding night – because you will marry this man, no matter what anyone says. You’ll burn the whole kingdom down before giving yourself to any other man.

You wrap your fingers around him to punctuate it that he’s yours. If he feared you might mirror what he just did to you, he makes no comment about it when you don’t, only whines when his cock is snared by a frail but eager hand.

“Princess,” he warns, slightly out of breath. “I will stain your dress…”

“Shh. Show me how to please you.”

The worry in his eyes is wild and bright, but the way your fingers mold around him leaves no space for arguments. A broken, stiff sigh is punched out of him when you begin to move: if he won’t show you how, it’s no trouble at all to try and find out yourself.

But when your thumb sweeps over the weeping tip of him, he finally brings a trembling hand upon yours. He starts to guide you, adjusts your grip, huffs when you both apply pressure on it. The curious creature that you are, you look down to witness the ugly beauty of it all.

It’s intimidating and rough, the cock in your hand... It looks like a weapon, honestly, a battering ram that leaks heady liquid from the head. Smooth and heavy and ripped with veins, it’s like a too hard muscle about to bludgeon something, and your hand is making it drool profusely. Would that it were inside you, you would be in grave danger, and why is it that you find the prospect so seductive?

His hand is far bigger than yours, and it makes your heart run wild, the way he tries to be gentle while using your grip to get himself off. He can’t even keep his eyes open from the shame, just takes a quick glance at your enthralled face before squeezing his eyes shut once more.

“Look at me,” you command softly, and he obeys – what else can a sworn knight do? – but you can see that the poor man is on the verge of tears. Shaking and panting, he stares at you while fucking himself with your hand, and when you close the small breath of air between you and kiss him, he melts.

The first thick spurt surprises you completely, you even mewl into his mouth when it shoots to stain your dress. You didn’t expect that to happen, at least not so fast… And because this is the first time you’ve seen a man come undone, you quickly leave the panting, moaning mouth and look down.

There’s so much of it, and the release is so violent; it looks and sounds like it hurts because the man is shuddering and groaning as if stabbed. Thick, white pulses of seed coat the brown wool of your dress, but it soaks the semen gladly: there’s nothing left of his cum other than dark, damp stains after he’s done.

And there’s no end to his shame. He pries your hand away from his cock as soon as he’s somewhat composed. Does it with a shaky hand, wipes what little stains of hot, wet seed you have on your palm to his pants, and all you’re thinking about is what it would feel like to have this giant trembling and groaning like that above you, inside you… If you could even take all of that thick, brutal length. If he would be able to move away when inside your heat, if he’d let you hug him again, just hold him close so that he’d never ever leave anymore…

“I have soiled you,” he mutters while looking at your skirt.

“Nonsense. You have only claimed me... I’m yours now.”

“Princess… No amount of silver–”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

You actually manage to kiss him silent. Tears begin to run down his face when you show him where he belongs. It’s the final surrender as he pulls you into his arms and finally drowns you in love – at last, you find yourself under him as he takes what's his. What seems like hours later, he breaks the kiss, only to look into your eyes with full-blown adoration.

“How am I to live without you after this?”

“You don’t have to. Not ever,” you say.

“Princess. If there was any hope for me to have your hand, if there was any hope that your father would give it, I would have carried you away from this place years ago.”

For a while, you fear it’s the fear of sin that burns him. But then you realize it was always only just you.

He looks so anguished now, even more in pain, when all you wanted to do was relieve his agonies. This was only a taste of what he can’t have. You both took a bite of the forbidden fruit but can’t eat the entire thing – no wonder he looks like he’s cast out of heaven he didn’t know even existed.

“Sir, I cannot do this,” you grab his face with both hands now. “Please don’t make me do this...”

He sighs and looks at the mess you just made. He’s broken every oath he’s ever taken, and the evidence is scattered right there between you. The only thing deadlier than this would’ve been if he pumped all of that hot, fluid sin inside you.

“Sweetling,” he laments. “Look at us. You’ve already ruined me. Ruined us both…”

“It’s called love, silly.”

He breathes a short, shy smile, the first you’ve ever seen on him. It’s cute and makes him look young, the quick flash of teeth between unruly lips, the almost bashful, downcast eyes that are not quite ready to meet the full brunt of your devotion.

“Ja,” he breathes. “Ich weiss.”

Then he brings his eyes back to yours, his smile slowly making way for a more serious expression. He lifts a hand to touch your cheek, and you find yourself soaring in the sky like a bird, a phoenix that has risen from the dead. It’s heavenly, the way you both caress each other, here on the lowly tavern’s bed, covered in salt, sweetness and sin.

“Your father will have both our heads if he finds out,” he tells you as if you needed the reminder.

“I pray our heads will never be separated then.”

He snorts a quick smile again. It makes you heady, that you’re apparently the only one who can make this gruesome giant laugh.

“You’re dangerous, princess,” he gruffs. “I knew you were trouble… And yet I curse all the years I left you in peace.”

“I know,” you smile. “Never the brightest one, my love...”

When you lie in his arms that night and tell him about your silly little fantasies, he grows hard again. When you tell him you now have new ones—ones where you’d want to feel him inside you—he looks like a man condemned to death.

The stares he shoots your way make it clear that he’s lost – no matter what he says, he can’t be kept away from you, not anymore. You suppose he’ll forsake even more secret promises and vows before forsaking the pledge he swore to you. Even at the cost of your lives, he’ll come scratching at your door, howling for some quick, hot love in the night, begging for you to give him everything he has denied himself.

And eventually, you grow more serious too. While lying in his arms, safe and tucked away from all the horrors of this world, you play with the leather strings of his gambeson, tugging them and twisting them around your finger like a child.

“There will come a day when they promise me to another,” you whisper, wondering if he’s already asleep.

He promised to never leave your side again, he promised. And still… What will happen when the carriage and horses take you to some distant, hostile kingdom, far away from him? What if you only get this summer together, and then nothing no more?

“They’ll take me away,” you tell him, almost without a voice.

A soft, hearty grumble answers, a man who finally knows what he’s fighting for.

“No one will take you away, sweetling. Not as long as I live.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #medieval au #konig x reader #könig fanfiction #cheesy romance warning

1K notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

Note

Mafia konig and his sweet innocent assistant

OMG!! MAFIA KONIG!! My mom was obsessed with TV show about ex-spec ops soldiers starting a criminal ring as a friend group because they didn't have any opportunities after being discharged from the military and...well, let me introduce you to this: Mafia!Konig as a discharged colonel Konig, was let go from the military with(thankfully) enough connections and retirement funds that his little hobby of smuggling guns from poorer Eastern European countries into Austria and Germany(both having horribly strict gun laws) for the less fortunate criminal rings. He gets them guns and drugs -- much lower prices too, thank god for his Prague connections and cheap labor -- and they get him money and power. Mafia!Konig who isn't your typical suit-wearing nice and clean-cut mob boss. He still wears his uniform - not because he wants to taint the suit, but because of his connections as the guy on the inside in the special forces - he was booted out of the army because of his age and traumas, even though he refused until his last day at the forces. He won't ever let anyone tear that form away from him - you just know he fucks you in his office in full gear, bouncing you on his cock as you're forced to beg your colonel to let you cum. Wearing his dog tags as the sign of ownership - as you're nothing but his obedient pet. Mafia!Konig has a solid reputation. A center that helps veterans overcome their traumas and find new purpose in life after exiting special forces - and you're his pretty assistant, just an innocent thing that runs around and does all of his paperwork because Colonel hates doing it! And you want to keep your job, you want to be useful, you're a good girl that doesn't question the suspicious numbers and shady people that attend some of his other totally legal businesses. You know better than to accuse people who served your country of being a dishonest bunch of thugs. Mafia!Konig who knows this is bad for you - innocent thing, you shouldn't ever be wrapped in his schemes, he only hired you because he wanted someone nice, someone kind to hang on to. He is doing terrible things every day, not shading from murders, assassinations and contraband smuggling - but he can come to you and place his head on your chest, just laying here for a few minutes as you stroke his head and relieve all of his anxieties.

Mafia!Konig who eventually convinces you to be his girlfriend. His trophy wife even, eventually - he wants to take care of you, to free you from having a job and worry about money...he has all means to make your life in Vienna as sweet as possible, cute thing, and he even hired move assistants for his more illegal doings just so your only job would be bringing him coffee and sucking him off under a table after the closes a very important weapons deal, forcing his thick cock in your willing throat as he promises to take you to the mountains on Christmas.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #mafia!konig #yandere konig

2K notes · View notes

queen-freya0 · 1 year

Text

Ignoring the debate whether Zelink is real or not in totk, we have to admit one thing: Link is with Zelda because he wants to.

On botw, before the calamity specifically, he has no much of a choice. He's a patriotic knight, he was appointed by the king himself to look after the princess and so fulfills his role as expected. If he wanted or liked to be around Zelda, no one gave a shit, and he had bills to pay, so he had to do his job.

After the calamity, well, he still had a role to fulfill. The calamity was still a threat and he was the only one who could do something about it. Regardless of his feelings towards Zelda, he still had a job to do. Battling Calamity Ganon was like killing two birds with one shot: he ends Hyrule's threat and rescues the princess.

But in totk things are different. Hyrule's kingdom and monarchy went to shit and the military is also practically non-existent, there's lots of restoration to do, but technically Hyrule found peace. I'd argue that, Link, being an actual soldier, could actually retire if he wanted to like veterans do after a battle ends, but he didn't.

We know from NPC's and Zelda's diary that Link is wherever Zelda is, they're never separated. We also can insinuate they live together in Hateno and that, looking at the monuments at the lost people in the calamity, they travel a lot.

I heard an opinion that said that Link still had an obligations towards the princess, but as far as I'm in the game I see no traces of that. Even Zelda mentions it in a memory, something like: "at first, he was appointed as my personal knight", which implies he doesn't have that role anymore. He's just there because... well, he's kind!

And this is what I find so beautiful about this game. We can argue whatever about their real relationship, but the truth is that Link just wants to be around Zelda and probably finds her entertaining 🤷🏻‍♀️

#zelink #zelda #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #the legend of zelda #totk #zelda totk

3K notes · View notes

lovifie · 2 months

Note

Simon was in complete awe of your captivating persona from the very beginning. He always imagined you as a serene, well-read, and graceful princess. Your persona was so angelic that he believed you descended from the heavens. He assumed you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, surrounded by opulence and luxury. But all of his preconceptions changed when he met your parents at a family dinner. To his surprise, your dad was a retired veteran colonel, and your mom was a retired military pilot. They were acting cruelly…hell even the children at the dinner…The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning, that you and your siblings were raised to be soldiers, and your training began from childhood….

This is the second time I write it because the only time I chose to write directly on Tumblr.com it bugged and deleted it (I wanna rip my eyes off) Hope that you like it 🩷

It was a dinner arranged by your parents, the whole team was invited. You thought about not saying anything, keep to yourself and tell your parents the team said no. But they would read right through you, and the moment you mentioned the team was sold.

Now, Simon used to think that you came for an extremely wealthy family. That you joined the military in an act of rebellion, that you could have easily chosen an easier job because you wouldn't have to worry about money in your life. You always move so gracefully while fighting, always so serene when talking, he had yet to see you cry or get mad. Almost like a porcelain door.

What he didn't know was that it was simply a mask that had been forced upon you by your parents. And it was during the dinner that he started to see the little cracks.

He finally saw you be tense, every thread of your person pulled to their limit ready to snap. He understood why you always seemed so relaxed under Price's orders. In comparison to your parents, the man was a loving mother. At some point they even expressed their doubts even of the captain's abilities. He didn't even want to think about how much self doubt they have helped you form.

It slowly started to make sense, how he would never see you in the mess hall. Always working, always training, always practicing, always studying, always getting better.

He looked at your siblings, younger, worse at hiding their emotions. He could see their tiredness, their fear of your parents. You have seated yourself between your father and your siblings. Trusting more to seat them next to Ghost than your own parents.

Your youngest sibling was sitting next to him, and when he noticed them looking up to them he looked back. The kid didn't even look away, and Ghost winked at them making the slightest smile appear on his tiny face.

“We are eating.” Your mother chastised, your sibling face terrified as he went back to eating. It didn't escape him the way you jump, not the slight disgusted expression it put onto your father when you did.

He standed up, motioning you to follow him outside. You panic for a second, forgetting that you no longer lived in your parents house and didn't need to be afraid. You slipped through your father's hand, walking behind the lieutenant when he went outside to have a smoke. You sat on the floor, sighing and with tears pricking your eyes from the frustration.

Ghost asked you about it, and you finally let go of it all. You told him about how your parents believe that dying at war is the most noble way out, how the only job valid for them was in the military, how you have never seen them cry, how you were sure that they would never cry if you died, everything.

By the end of it, you were hugging his leg, your head resting on his thigh as he rubbed your head with his hand consoling you.

“Wait here.” He threw the cigarette to the floor, stepping on it and went back inside.

A moment later the four men were out again.

“C’mon, kid.” Price said with a smile on his face. “There's an emergency, let's go.”

Just when you were standing up, drying your tears the door opened.

Your siblings walked out, giggling each with a backpack. “We heard the world needs saving, shall we go?”

And then, with your team and your siblings, you went into the most rundown, almost destroyed pub. Ate the most greasy food that you were certain would give everyone food poisoning and went on to have the best family dinner of your whole life.

#ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon riley imagines #simon riley #call of duty #cod #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #ghost x y/n

435 notes · View notes

incepstla · 7 months

Text

Levi Ackerman - Per Story Arc

Thug Levi ➳ Humanity's Strongest Soldier ➳ Retired war veteran and the legacy of the Survey Corps

"Were you watching? Seems this was the resolution that you gave your hearts for."

#snk #snkedit #snk spoilers #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi #dailyanime #anisource #fymanganime #fyanimegifs #dailyanimatedgifs #usertorichi #usergokalp #usergojoana #useraki #my edit #incepstla #Took me ages :') but Levi deserves a great send off thank you for all these amazing years <333333 forever my fave character

831 notes · View notes

sayruq · 1 month

Text

In the early hours of April 7th the Israel Defence Forces’ (idf) 98th Division withdrew from Khan Younis, the second-largest city in Gaza, exactly six months after Hamas’s attack of October 7th. Israel had the sympathy and broad support of much of the West when it sent its army to war with Hamas. Half a year later, much of Gaza lies in ruins. Over 33,000 Palestinians have been killed, according to the Gazan health ministry. The uprooted civilian population faces famine. Israel has lost the battle for global public opinion. Even its closest allies, including America, are considering whether to limit arms shipments. Much of the criticism centres on Israel’s armed forces. Even after its devastating failure to prevent the massacres of October 7th, the idf has remained the most cherished institution in Israeli society. Holding fast to the vision of the idf as both effective and moral is essential to Israelis’ image of themselves. But it is now accused of two catastrophic failures. First, that it has not achieved its military objectives in Gaza. Second, that it has acted immorally and broken the laws of war. The implications for both the idf and Israel are profound.

Major-General Noam Tibon is a retired corps commander who on October 7th rushed to his son’s kibbutz near Gaza, single-handedly extricating his young family while Hamas was on the rampage. In hindsight, he says, the idf should have gone into Rafah first. He believes his former colleagues were “under the illusion that going first into Gaza City would break Hamas psychologically, by taking their symbols of government”. But, he argues, “all the talk of dismantling their brigades and battalions is rubbish. They remain a fundamentalist movement which doesn’t need commanders to fight until death.” The lack of enforcement of even these looser rules of engagement has been such that accusations that Israel has broken the laws of war are plausible. “The standing orders don’t matter in the field,” says one veteran reserve officer who has mostly been in Gaza since October. “Just about any battalion commander can decide that whoever moves in his sector is a terrorist or that buildings should be destroyed because they could have been used by Hamas.” “The only limit to the number of buildings we blew up was the time we had inside Gaza,” says one sapper in a combat-engineering battalion. “If you find a Kalashnikov or even Hamas literature in an apartment, it’s enough to incriminate the building.” Other officers reported a breakdown of discipline in their units, with multiple cases of looting. “I think everyone in our platoon took a coffee set,” said one sergeant. Soldiers have filmed themselves vandalising Palestinian property and, in some cases, put those videos online. On February 20th the idf’s chief of staff published a public letter to all soldiers warning them to use force only where necessary, “to distinguish between a terrorist and who is not, not to take anything which isn’t ours—a souvenir or weaponry—and not to film vengeance videos.” Four months into the war, this was too little, too late. “He should have acted much sooner to root this out,” says one battalion commander. The idf’s third failure is its role in Israel’s obstruction—until an angry phone call between President Joe Biden and Mr Netanyahu on April 4th—of aid efforts to Gazans. Officers have mainly blamed the politicians for this. But some acknowledge that even without a political directive, the army, which is arguably an occupying force in Gaza now, should have assumed this responsibility from the planning stage. Instead it acted only when the humanitarian situation became critical. That does not bode well for the future. The war in Gaza is not over. Israel’s next step is unclear. Mr Netanyahu says that a date has been set for an incursion into Rafah, Hamas’s last major stronghold (in private, Israeli generals deny this).

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #palestinian resistance #fuck the idf

189 notes · View notes

imaginedanvrs · 6 months

Text

my demon gave me everything

part 1 | masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 3.7k

warnings: kidnapping, drugging, stalking, character death, obsessive behaviour

“Hi, Peggy,” you greeted the veteran warmly, pulling her from the memories playing before her in the photos by the impeccably made bed. Though the quality of the crumpled papers weren’t the finest of that generation's technology, the scenes that the woman could recall just from a glance at the hazy faces were enough to bring their characters and stories to the present. In the months that you had known Ms Carter, you had spent hours listening to her adventures from the war, enthralled by every word. Of course, you weren’t meant to have favourites, but Peggy’s life had been unmatched, so naturally, her presence was too. You missed her greatly in the months that followed.

“Hello, dear,” Peggy replied with an aged smile. “How are you?” She asked, lifting her hand to you. You took it in your own and rubbed your thumb over the back of her hand with a shake of your head.

“You know that’s what I’m meant to ask you,” you tutted, though of course appreciating the care she showed.

“Yes but I’m not the one on my feet for twelve hours a day,” Peggy was swift to respond.

“And I’m not the one that’s fought in a world war,” you countered, earning a soft chuckle from your resident. You placed her hand back down on the soft sheets gently and set about busying around her room. “I heard Steve’s coming in to see you later,” you said as you began watering some of the pots along the window frame.

“That’s the plan,” Peggy agreed. Of course she understood better than anyone that the job of someone like Steve Rogers meant that plans could be cancelled at a moment's notice. Majority of the time though, he made it. Luckily for the super soldier, the home was discreet enough that he didn’t have to worry about any press or genuine threats interrupting his visits with the woman he loved. The home was tucked away just outside the city and only housed a manageable amount of residents for a small team of staff. It was perfect for a retired war hero, even if she did have some complaints about being in a home to begin with.

“I believe he’s bringing Natasha with him as well,” Peggy added.

“Really? Do I need to get the spare red carpet for her too?” You quipped as you smiled at the last flower pot, fully aware of the look Peggy was sending your way.

“Now dear, don’t you start making a fuss too. You’re the only one who doesn’t treat them like a touring rock band.” Peggy sighed. “You’ll give them a complex.” At this, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?” You chuckled as you folded and put away the cardigan that wouldn’t be needed for the rest of that day.

“I don’t think so, dear. Things aren’t how they used to be, you know?” You smiled as the familiar rant about the changing world started again. “When me and Steve fought, we fought for freedom and only that. Now you have so many so-called ‘super heroes’ out there showing off their gifts for the crowds instead of using it for good. And that’s not even the worst of it. I’m sure some are all together corrupt,” she said with a disappointed frown. “Steve earned his abilities because he’s a good man but there are some that-” Peggy’s rant was cut off by the chesty coughs that stole her breath. She leaned forward to best support herself as you grabbed her glass of water and knelt besides her, masking my worries as best you could. It was easy for you both to forget the veterans age and limits.

“Take it easy,” you encouraged with a gentle hand on her back. Peggy gratefully took the water and allowed it to ease her irritated throat before leaning back into her bed with a tired sigh. “Okay?”

“Best I’ve ever been,” you hummed and refilled her glass before setting it on the bedside table again.

You took Peggy’s hand in my own once again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I should hope so, you have to come with me next time I go back to England,” you said matter of factly. Prompting Peggy to chuckle, more than happy to go along with the fantasy.

“Ah yes, I still haven’t met the queen and she’s been on the throne almost as long as I’ve been alive,” Peggy exclaimed.

“Would be pretty nice if she could pay for our plane tickets,” you added to which the older woman continued to chuckle just as a light knock could be heard from the other side of her door.

“Come in,” she invited, the hope in her voice clear and thankfully rewarded when Steve poked his head around the door with a broad smile to the older woman that he extended to you after a second. You placed Peggy’s hand back to her bed just as a shorter woman crept in behind Steve.

“Oh Steve,” Peggy beamed with a twinkle in her eye she reserved solely for the Captain.

“Hey Peggy, how’s my favourite girl?” He greeted, his eyes just as full of love as Peggy’s as he knelt down where you had been a second before. “Hi, y/n,.” he said, his voice still nurturing.

“Heya Steve,” you smiled back and glanced away from their embrace. Too often did you try to live through them in hopes of experiencing a love nearly as strong as theirs some day.

You glanced towards the silent woman who was already looking at you with interest. “Hi,” you muttered, finding it near impossible to hold such an intense gaze for more than a couple seconds - not that you were the first to find difficulty in making eye contact with the world’s greatest assassin, of course. She was the Black Widow. For a second you had to remind yourself that she was a good guy and that you had nothing to worry about.

“Hi,” she replied, a friendly smile taking over her features so smoothly you wondered if it was sincere.

“I’ll leave you guys to it in a minute but before I go, Peggy, are you comfortable?” You asked. “Not too hot?” You knew the older woman didn’t like to make a fuss and that if you didn’t ask then, she wouldn’t say anything until her visitors left.

“A little,” you were glad to hear her admit, “perhaps there’s no need for the extra blanket.” You nodded in agreement and took the extra blanket off her bed and put it away in her cupboard to grab again before the night. “Thank you, dear,” Peggy said with a grateful nod.

“No problem, just shout if you need anything,” you said as always as you made your way out the room and shut the door behind you, unaware of the eyes that followed you the whole way.

Natasha didn’t believe in any kind of instant connection. She had never looked at someone and felt a desperate need to have them, kiss them, date them, fuck them. It had simply never occurred and she didn’t believe it happened to others. She believed anything remotely close to ‘love at first sight’ was some bullshit horny people told lonely people in order to get in their pants faster. You were no exception.

What Natasha did experience was interest. Interest of woman she would typically define as her ‘type’. It wasn’t that she saw a hot woman and wanted to fuck them, instead, Natasha saw fragile women and wanted to break them. She wanted to surgically remove every part of them that made them the picture of innocence and ruin it. Because no two people are the same. No two people can have that many overlapping traits. Everyone was unique which meant everyone had a unique way to be broken, that was what sparked Natasha’s interest.

In less than a minute in the same room as you, the spy had watched how you interacted with Peggy, a vulnerable lady that you had ensured the comfort of. She had watched how unfazed you were by two superheroes that many had paid thousands just to shake hands with. It had sparked her interest and made her wonder how you would respond to numerous scenarios. She wondered what you would look like when your mind and body had been broken, if it would be any different than the women before.

The one thing Natasha knew for sure was that she was going to find out.

Peggy’s death came two weeks later. Steve couldn’t be there at the end but he thanked you that you were. You held her hand as she passed and told her it was okay, managing to hold back your tears until her final breath. You all knew this meant she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, but the absence of her presence was felt across the home and would for a while.

The funeral was a blur, a lot of people were invited, unsurprisingly. Peggy had touched many lives that you were beyond grateful to receive an invitation yourself, even if you didn’t know anyone there except for Steve who had enough people to greet. You stuck to the back of the hall and made small talk with a few people and managed to hold back tears until the end of service when you snuck away to the bathroom.

After ten minutes of hardly effective breathing exercises you found on the internet, you made your way back out, hoping to say goodbye to Steve before you left but figured he had to leave early as he was nowhere to be found. You tried to make an unnoticed exit but the small touch to your back told you that you failed in that. You spun around to see Natasha with that same, slightly off, smile you hadn’t forgotten..

“Hey,” she greeted, putting her hands back into the pockets of a coat that probably cost more than a year's worth of your salary. To be fair, she saves the world.

“Hey yourself,” you said with a weary smile, hoping your eyes weren’t too red from crying. She looked perfect.

“Y/n, right?” She tested.

“Yeah and you’re… Natasha was it?” You tested back, making the redhead’s smile become more real.

“That’s me,” she chuckled. You eased up slightly, finding her presence less intimidating than your last meeting. “How are you? I mean, how are you doing?” She continued, her softer gaze becoming more watchful again. You wondered then if that was just her way of showing she was listening and giving her full attention.

“I’m alright,” you lied. Natasha noted it internally. “How are you? How’s Steve?” Another note.

“I didn’t know her all that well but Steve’s not having the easiest time.” You nodded, recalling the affection that never faltered when he looked at Peggy. “He’ll be okay though, he’s a tough guy.”

“Is he here?” You skimmed the faces in the crowd once more but still couldn’t find the blond.

“No, he had to go,” Natasha said.

“He doesn’t need you to help save the world with him?” you teased to try and distract from the resurfacing raw funeral feelings.

“It’s not bad enough to require my skill set,” the spy quipped with some undisguised smugness. You hummed. That was pretty hot. “So seeing as there’s nothing that requires my immediate attention, you need a ride home?” Natasha offered with expecting eyes.

“Thank you, but I can just order an uber I’m not too far-”

“Then you won’t be out of my way then,” Natasha called over her shoulder as she headed for what you could only guess was the flashiest car on the grounds and left no room for arguing. You trailed along behind her as Natasha opened the eagle doors from her keys while you pretended not to be completely awestruck by the vehicle and its driver.

“So was this a gift from Nick Fury or…?” You asked as the spy revved the engine and swiftly made her way out of the parking area and started on the long lane out of the grounds.

“You could say that,” she smirked, making you wonder if there was a story behind the car's ownership. “Do you drive?” The redhead asked instead.

“Um, no. Haven’t really gotten around to it, you know, what with moving here a year ago from England and all.” You admitted in a quick attempt to cover the embarrassment you always felt when people asked.

“That’s fair.” Natasha nodded understandably. “Besides, what are you? Twenty?” She continued with her eyes staying on the road.

“Nineteen,” you corrected. Natasha hummed and you suddenly wondered how old the Avenger was. Definitely not too old for you to see her as attractive but probably too old for her to see you as attractive, as if that were ever a possibility.

Once you reached the main gates to the grounds, Natasha pulled up her screens map and asked you to put your address in then continued on in that direction.

“So how long are you planning on staying in the states?” The spy inquired.

“My visa doesn’t actually last much longer than a year so I’ll have to head back home soon.” You explained, counting down the weeks before your flight.

“Oh? You reckon you’ll come back?” Natasha continued, stopping herself from pushing as much as she wanted to.

“I’m not sure yet. I mean it’s pretty nice here but it’s not home, you know? That’s where I want to be.”

“Yeah, nothing beats that,” the older woman muttered. You were about to ask Natasha about her own home when the car pulled to a stop outside your three story apartment building. “But I suppose this is it for now.”

“Pretty different to yours, I bet,” you mused, only imagining the kind of place she lived.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Natasha chuckled.

“Kinda,” you admitted with a light laugh as you got out of the fancy car. “Well, thanks for the ride, it was fun,” you smiled gratefully towards the redhead.

“Anytime,” she winked and sped away once you were a couple steps back. As you watched her go, you assumed that would be the last time you ever saw Natasha Romanoff.

It’s pretty nice but it’s not home. That’s where I want to be.

Natasha had pondered on that as she pulled into the rusting garage, only being lit by the glow from the inside of her car. She tapped her steering wheel and considered what that meant for her. It meant you were going back to England and you probably weren’t coming back. The redhead hummed as she pulled up your visa on her tablet, seeing the expiration date was only a couple months time and concluded you could be leaving any day between now and then. When she returned home she would find what date you had booked your flight for so she could know for sure.

That was new. The spy had never faced a deadline with any of the past women. It was exciting, adding a new risk she hadn’t encountered before. It made the challenge all the more enticing. With that on her mind, Natasha left the garage through the back door and had to give it several kicks when shutting it back into place.

Shit hole.

The building wasn’t really that bad, more just a little run down because it was in the forgotten part of town, just outside the busy city that had no time to acknowledge it. Natasha, being far more used to her luxury penthouse suite in the heart of New York, thought it was below her and couldn’t wait to show you just how differently she lived.

Once the redhead made her way up to the top floor, and assuring no one was around to see, she slipped inside the empty one bedroom apartment and headed straight for the window at the opposite end of the living space. Sitting in the sturdy foldable chair, Natasha peered through the S.H.I.E.L.D issued camera that was already staring right into your bedroom window down the street.

You were crying again. Natasha tutted. She had liked getting a sneak peak at how you looked when you cried the first time, but had since grown irritated that she wasn’t the one causing those tears to fall. It made her agitated and grew her need to have you.

When you finally took your shirt off, the spy’s interest peaked again and she gave a light groan. It was only the second time seeing you without it and the first time had only been through your webcam. You usually knew to close your curtains when getting changed but the emotions clouded your better judgement.

Such a dumb pup.

You dipped out of view to remove your bra so Natasha switched tabs on her laptop to peer through yours. Turned off. She switched to my phone. In another room.

“Fuck,” Natasha huffed, pulling a cigarette from its packet on the windowsill and grabbing the lighter from her pocket. She held the flame against the end and waited for the orange glow to send off its small grey whisps.

The Avenger had put cameras in some of the other women’s apartments, but given that she was able to see through several of your windows from across the street, she didn’t deem it necessary for you. She preferred it that way. She wasn’t exactly desperate to see you naked. That wasn’t a big part of it. She just wanted to see you. She enjoyed learning your small habits from afar, they would help in a few days. She enjoyed seeing you all on your own and knew it bothered you. You craved companionship and it would make you more open to hers the more desperate you got. It was just a shame she couldn’t drag it out for longer.

When you reappeared, you were in my unicorn pjs. Natasha smiled at the innocence of it all. Nineteen. The redhead didn’t usually go for women that young but you were an adult by law so she deemed it okay. Besides, she knew of your exes. She knew that older women were your type and that thirty definitely wasn’t too old. The spy also knew those exes were inadequate and what Natasha could offer you was something you had yet to experience from anyone, even them. She wondered just how badly you craved it and how soon you would admit it to her.

All that mattered was that you would never experience it from anyone else.

Several days passed since Peggy’s funeral and things were returning to how they were before you met the veteran. Her room at the home was still empty and you hoped it would be until you left. That would always be Peggy’s room. Thankfully, you were able to distract yourself throughout your working days by completing unnecessary tasks to make the day go quicker and stop your mind wandering too much to how lonely you were again. Peggy had been a friend, granted an unlikely one but a friend at that.

You were able to keep yourself preoccupied outside of work too. Whenever the weather permitted, you headed out into the parks in town with your sketchbook and spent hours, sometimes most of the day, doodling pretty much anything you could see. The crowds of flowers around the edges of the park; the moments different wildlife crosses paths; the unique landscapes when the city turned to town; the families and couples enjoying the last of the summer. Everything had a spot in your nearly full sketchbook that you had gotten especially for your trip. You were hoping to recreate them digitally when you got home.

The silver lining in it all was that you slept soundlessly through the nights. From the moment your head hit the pillow you were fast asleep and woke up feeling refreshed until grief gave you a sudden slap. But it wasn’t just you that benefited from my new found deep sleeping habits. In fact, it was what made Natasha able to make her move so fast.

It was 3:36 when the spy stepped foot in your apartment. She crept around without a single breath to be heard and peered around the studio apartment. Due to the layout, Natasha was able to see your sleeping frame as soon as she stepped into your living space. You were of course sound asleep when she saw you, but Natasha still noted where the creaky floorboards were and swiftly manoeuvred around your apartment.

The redhead didn’t make her way immediately to you as she knew you wouldn’t stir. Instead, she took some time to feed her curiosity and opened the cupboards in the kitchen she hadn’t been able to see. You had a lot of snacks, most of which Natasha didn’t approve of, and less ingredients for actual dinners. She knew you weren’t much of a chef and more often than not just put a collection of snacks on your plate for dinner than cook. The older woman would fix that for you soon enough.

She was pleased to see that you kept the studio pretty much spotless. There was no washing up left out, no crumbs on any surfaces, the floor didn’t need to be moped. She wouldn’t mind if you managed to stay in her home a while.

After a few more minutes of assessing the rest of your living space, Natasha continued back to you and hovered over your sleeping body for a while, knowing you wouldn’t have a rest this peaceful for a while. Luckily she had something to make sure you could make the most of it. The syringe in the leather pocket was only a slim one with a needle small enough that you wouldn’t feel it in your sleep. She traced along your neck with the back of her finger before sinking the needle in and flushing the liquid into your system, ensuring you would be no trouble when getting home.

“That’s it, detka,” Natasha cooed when you turned onto your side facing her and nuzzled further into your pillow. She leant down and placed a gentle kiss on your temple and the trace of a smile fluttered across your lips. “Get lots of rest.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #dark!natasha x reader #dark!fic #dark!marvel

250 notes · View notes

ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year

Text

Ooh, interesting! Lemme see what I can do about this idea. Please remember to send requests via mailbox!

Headcanons: Jean, Lisa, Ninguang, and Ganyu Reacting to Reader Being a Veteran Military Soldier

You were calmly sipping tea and having snacks, relaxing with the character at your palace, talking about random conversations that come and go over the time.

This brought the conversation where you mention your experiences of being apart of the Military for a while before retiring due to the many scars you had over several many combat incidents.

This is how they'll react.

(Disclaimers: Mentions of Scars, Implied Violence/Battles, Might Be OOC!)

Jean

To hear that the Almighty Creator has been through so many battle experience and gaining so many scars, she wished she could've been there to assist you.

She is very much curious as what you've been through, but she doesn't push—she simply wants to make sure you are okay before diving into that topic.

"Your Grace, are you alright? Are your scars hurting you in any way?" She wants to make sure you aren't in any pain of sorts, and will fuss over you and get Barbara to check on you before you somehow find a way to reject this help.

Consider it her way of paying you back for letting her enjoy a cup of tea with you and a good conversation to know you better.

Lisa

Lisa, my oh my...This librarian will be ever so curious on your past battle experiences during this tea session, now that you mentioned it. Of course—she won't push you to explain. She doesn't want to make you upset, nor be struck down for giving the Almighty Creator trauma flashbacks of any sorts.

"Your Grace, if you allow me to indulge myself, may I ask of what kind of battle experiences you've been through? Feel free, of course, to continue to a different topic if I ever seem to be pushing any boundaries." Lisa is a good listener, she'll hear you out, word for word.

And, of course, she sticks to her word. If her questions ever seem to be too much, switch the subject and Lisa will hop onto the new one! After all, your tea is ever so lovely~

Ningguang

First of all, the fact that the Creator is inviting her to have tea and enjoy conversation with them in the first place? She already feels spoiled.

This is probably even better than becoming Tianquan or building her Jade Chamber/Palace.

Ningguang is rather surprised to hear that you've been to battle before. She'll be even more surprised once she digests the information that you've been to several battles. And gained battle scars through those experiences.

Of course, her face doesn't show any of this, but she's pretty impressed and awed. She's trying to imagine it: The Almighty Creator, fighting the front lines, destroying the enemies that dare to face them, etc.

"Your Grace, if I be bold to ask, but what kind of battles have you been in?" As she listens to you talk about some of your battle experience, Ningguang can now understand why people gawk at her and the Jade Chamber as/once they listen to the stories regarding it. Your stories, were very captivating and fed all sorts of scenarios in her imagination.

If you grant her the permission, Ningguang will personally start having storytellers tell the tales of the fierce and Almighty Creator facing threats in battle, for all of Liyue to gain a even deeper respect for you.

Ganyu

To be even in the presence of the Almighty Creator, she already feels super blessed. To hear that the creator has been through battles? Ganyu couldn't help but worry.

She knew that some scars, whether mental or physical, could case pain. So, naturally, she has to ask whether if you're okay or not.

"Uhm, Your Grace, forgive my intrusion, but are your scars harming you in any way?" As a veteran of the Archon War, she knows a thing or two about how people hide their scars, playing off their pain as if it were just an annoying pest. Ganyu wants to make sure you're okay and at top, peak condition!

Teyvat has already lost its Almighty Creator once, and she refuses to see you in pain after your re-descension!

Be prepared to take this task very seriously, because boy, if you are facing anything she finds unhealthy, you are being coaxed and voluntold into therapy.

And that's it! I hope you all liked these headcanons :) See you around next time!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: Just a quick notice for those waiting for Part 3/finale of "Forever In My Hold" - It's going to take a long while since I'm having a little bit of writer's block on it. I doubt I'll be able to finish it this month. Sorry!

Check Out The Ghost Rebel's Blog Description to See if Their Mailbox is Open!

#sagau genshin #yandere sagau #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau angst #sagau x reader #genshin cult au #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #genshin x reader #sagau jean #sagau ningguang #sagau lisa #sagau ganyu #WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S NO SAGAU JEAN TAG???

603 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 8 months

Text

Walking in the wind-141

A/N: sorry but I'm a directioner at heart babes so the title was a must

GN!Reader, angst, some fluff, platonic!relationship, death of character

20 years later, 141 was officially retired, all married, happy families, peaceful sunny days and most importantly, no war, no guns, just peace.

A week ago you said to me "Do you believe I'll never be too far?" If you're lost, just look for me You'll find me in the region of the summer stars

Every month, no matter where either one of the people in the team was in the world, they would fly to a small home in town in the southern part of the U.S. And arrive between 6-7 in the afternoon, to talk and catch up because it's better to see the person than to text them. The stories shared between all, the wives/husbands, kids and how old they were getting. Unlike the rest, you moved to America, and wanted that movie-like life, in some small town, driving a truck, passing through quiet streets where all anyone worried about was the leaves that would fall in autumn. You and your partner opened a small pub.

The name for it was 'R/N's Place" This was after you finally get out of the toxic part of your life, the family and the ache it gave you when you were there. Not a normal name for a pub but the locals loved it. Your favourite part was that you received lots of veterans, they all told you about their time serving and you, like the proud friend you are displayed a picture of you and the team in your first and last mission together.

It was almost around the time the men arrived, Price being the first, followed by Gaz who flew in with him. Soap arrived late, his children wanted to talk to their father before bedtime and Ghost arrived last, getting a call from his partner to which he always answered, he always made it clear his partner was a priority now that he is retired. You waited by the table with the rest for Ghost, your wife/husband serving the clients. "And there he is, Simon." Price smiled a little, proud to see his family again. "Alright, who's first?" Gaz asked and drank from his pint.

"I'll go first," Ghost said, which was a definite first. "Go on, son." Price passed all a cigar. A tradition he started once his grown soldiers/children were all retired. "Me and my partner are expecting a son." A secret he kept until it was assured the baby would make it this time. "Congrats mate!" Soap hugged him, feeling proud of a man he considered his oldest brother. "That's very much well deserved, man." Gaz smiled and you stared in awe. Price looked down with a soft chuckle, wanting to dismiss the tears that formed in his eyes. His wallet would be getting a new picture of the newest addition to the family soon. --- "R/N, I won't make it, go!" Ghost said to which you shook your head. "No, this is the one command I will not take! You will get old and fat but you will NOT die on me lieutenant, not today!" you yelled over the loud noises. ---

He looks at you and you hug him, whispering in his ear, "See, I told you it would be possible this time, Simon. I'm so happy and proud of you." Words that definitely made the tears well up in his eyes.

The fact that we can sit right here and say goodbye Means we've already won A necessity for apologies between you and me Baby, there is none

"Now you are all making me feel old." Price jokes and finally looks up. The four people he fought with through wars, all living the lives he knew were all much earned. Through the wounds, blood and sacrifice, somehow, five mad people are still alive. And the entire night, Soap told stories of his farm, and Gaz gave advice on how to fix some stuff, a trip he would soon have to make to Scotland. Gaz on the new tricks his little ones make, how he knows karma got to him and his back aches, so much for the jokes he told about Price. Ghost with his wood-making business, one he started in the backyard and now in Manchester's best small business. Price on how his kids are now in uni and the youngest one is in secondary.

And then you, with their favourite pub in the entire world, how you adopted a child and your eldest in primary already. Your wife/husband watching you smile from afar. You always were excited for these meetings, it was the one time someone other than the local veterans understood the stories you told.

We had some good times, didn't we? We had some good tricks up our sleeve Goodbyes are bittersweet But it's not the end I'll see your face again

And, as each month passed by, it turned into 10 years later. You and the other men in the team gathered not in America but back home in England. All in black dressing, lifting the coffin of the father you all shared. Price had peacefully passed on a calm night. As his wife puts it, he was finally ready to go, his mission was over and the children he raised were all old enough to understand and his little soldiers as he called you were well off in life, the one he made sure you all had. In years you had never seen so many of the toughest and now retired soldiers you worked with cry so much. You did too. The ceremony was as expected, memorable, beautiful and for the last time in John Price's life, peaceful.

Yesterday I went out to celebrate the birthday of a friend But as we raised our glasses up to make a toast I realised you were missing

You all flew back to the first ever pub he took you to. Raise your glasses and shed more tears. You see, this was a promise you all made. An oath between Task Force 141. When one passes, those that remain must go to the first pub we talked to as not a team but a family, and just then we can mourn but also celebrate we once lived.

And I know we'll be alright, child Just close your eyes and see And I'll be by your side Any time you're needing me Oh, yeah

Ghost chuckles, "And he told me, 'you reckon I can make it?' and that old man did it, the deadliest move ever and he fuckin' made it." he takes a sip of his drink. Gaz smiles, fond memories shared between him and Price, to be remembered until his final breath. "He used to do this trick with the smoke from his cigar just for my little girl to giggle, and man does she still ask for that trick," Soap shared. All four of you, smoking a cigar, just like he would've. "Can you believe the old man never complained too much about his back?" you ask to which all others nod. Now in your late 40's to early 50's, you never understood how he never once complained of the aching bones or back, proving he was and will always be the strongest and toughest man to ever grace your lives.

And you will find me Yeah, you will find me In places that we've never been For reasons we don't understand

tags: @warenai @liyanahelena

179 notes · View notes

urbanrelics · 10 months

Text

HOPITAL PLAZA

This imposing ensemble, commissioned by the French King Louis XVIII in 1820, is known in urbex circles as 'Hôpital Plaza', although it was only effectively used as a hospital for a very short period at the end of the First World War. During that period, more than 8,000 - mainly Belgian - wounded soldiers were cared for.

After the French Revolution, the Catholic fire again raged very strongly in the west of France, especially in Normandy, and there was a need for training opportunities for young men who felt called to the priesthood. Two wealthy residents donated the necessary land to the diocese to establish a "minor seminary" on this site. The ensemble became an architectural replica of the nearby 'major seminary'. Young seminarians first followed a course here, after which they completed their training in the major seminary.

The Minor Seminary not only welcomed young people who were destined for the priesthood; it also gave access to general education, both for sons of wealthy families and those of families from more humble backgrounds. The school survived until 1905, when the French church and state were once again separated.

At the end of the First World War, the building became a shelter for veterans. After all, at the end of the fighting, many disabled soldiers could no longer support themselves. The Minor Seminary became a home to welcome them. Retired veterans joined later. Many affected French families also found temporary shelter here during the Second World War, after which the buildings resumed their function as a retirement home for veterans.

In June 2000, it was abandoned completely and was sold to a businessman from Lyon, who intended to install 70 luxury apartments. Much to the chagrin of the local government, the plans were never realized and the old seminary began to deteriorate. Since 2016 it has been owned by Spanish property developers, who were supposed to look for a new destination. The local government now wants to start an 'abandonment' procedure to expropriate the whole ensemble, hoping to give the beautiful seminary a new lease on life.

#urban exploration #urbex #abandoned #urban relics #decay #derelict #abandoned places #ue #photography #urbanexploration #france #photographer #hopital #plaza

155 notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 2 months

Note

Oh my god, asks are open! Hey how are you?? And what are your favourite König AUs' counterparts??

Asks are still closed, actually, I just used the opportunity to promote my Instagram. But...for my top Konig AUs, I have these ones! 1) Mafia Konig. Oh how I love this man. I honestly don't know much about Austrian criminal life, but I just know that this man is the perfect jaded ex-soldier who came out of service, saw how the system treats its veterans, and decided to seize power for himself. He is cool, strong - his awkwardness and inability to socialize casually is almost going unnoticed as he seeks retired soldiers to make up his crime group, getting control over drug and weapons market. With his connections in all of Central Europe and slowly creeping onto the Eastern part and illegal gun and oil deals, the only thing he is lacking is a pretty girl on his lap, making him feel good. He doesn't like escorts, often leaving bad taste in his mouth - but he sees you, a pretty girl working in a cafe that he owns, in a flower shop that is just a front for his business, in some shabby tourist establishment made to get tourists on cheaply produced drugs...you're innocent, you have no idea about the dangers around you - but don't worry, he is cynical for both of you. 2) Loser!Konig Seeing this big guy with a big title and money and even a house being a complete loser for you is...something. He is dangerous, of course, always getting borderline or straight-up obsessive, so down and for you it's horrible - but the again, he is the only guy to ever love you like this...so, why not give him a chance? Yes, he will hunt you down and out you on his basement by the end of the week because he has no idea what the hell courting is but, then again, he would also give you some interesting lecture about lego and war history.

3) Monster!Konig Obviously, having this giant eldritch horror dude so down bad for you is exciting to write! This version of Konig is mainly a tsundere type, he is acting cold because monsters value power and he doesn't want to seem too soft with his little pet wife - but don't worry, he is soft and warm behind the closed doors, always allowing you to have something nice for yourself. This version of him tights with oviposition, obviously. He is using your fertile, lush body to carry his eggs - so be prepared for all the exciting thing about pregnancy, but over and over again, with Konig cooing over you as he finally mates you for hours on end... 4) Dilf!Konig This bastard uses his kid to maintain contact with you, and he is not even ashamed! It's honestly horrible( he doesn't like to talk to his kid, so he took you in as either willing or a kidnapped nanny, and then proceeded to breed another child into you just because this guy has a major breeding kink, but can't take care of children( He will pay for everything, at least, even hiring some help to make everything a bit easier for you - but god, he starts to like his kids only when you're playing with them...

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #monster!konig #mafia!konig

282 notes · View notes

blackautmedia · 3 months

Text

Per the Tweet:

In today’s episode we follow the journey of Abdul Bakhit which exemplifies the unique struggles and aspirations of each migrant and refugee, individuality amidst inhumane circumstances only invites us to humanize their stories, honor their struggles, and recognize the inherent worth in each life affected by displacement as today in Sudan. Victim of the shipwreck off Tunisia 7.2.2024.

🧵 6/40

Abdul Bakhit Khamis Muhammad, born on December 6, 2000, in Central Darfur, Wadi Saleh Garsila locality, was the fourth child in his family, with two elder sisters and an elder brother. His father, a retired wounded veteran soldier, and his mother, an ordinary farmer, still reside in Garsila. He attended Soba East Secondary School for Boys.

Due to tribal conflicts in the region, he and his family faced instability and financial difficulties which forced him to leave Sudan on December 15, 2021, for Libya. In Tazerbo, Kufra, he was held captive by human traffickers demanding 2000 Libyan dinars in ransoms. After his release, he moved to Benghazi, then Tripoli, Qarabulli in March 2022.

He registered with the UNHCR in Libya as an asylum seeker and worked in farming to sustain his livelihood. By August 2023, he departed Libya for Tunisia, where he sought refuge in Zarzis with limited success. He then went to Sfax, where he for three times attempted to cross the sea.

In early October he paid 1500 Tunisian dinars for the sea crossings but was caught up at sea by the Tunisian National Guard. In late October he tried again and was intercepted. The third attempt was in mid November only to be intercepted and returned. His final attempt came along the other 42 others among whom 40 died with him included.

While browsing on his Facebook account, we saw that his last publication dating back to 17 April 2022 talks about dignity, success, fatigue , failure and despair: “First, maintain your dignity, even if it costs you, you will not become friends with the walls of your cell. You will not reach the pinnacle of success without going through stations of fatigue, failure and despair. Stay at ease with the details.”

Image ID: Abdul Bakhit looking down toward the camera. He is wearing a white shirt standing before a bright, blue sky.

#sudan

38 notes · View notes

amongthebooks · 8 months

Text

Thinking about Ghost and Soap who both knew they’d end up together within moments of their first meeting. Who, despite the lieutenant’s history of being stand-offish and the sergeant’s general surface-level friendliness, immediately clicked.

There was no worrying about ranks, or hesitation due to personal baggage. No. They were so sure of their feelings that they got together as soon as the mess with Hassan wrapped up. Their captain pointedly letting it slide when it became clear that it was more than a quick fling, when he saw how much of a positive impact they had on each other.

Thinking about how their love for each other translated into becoming unstoppable on the field. The two were so in sync that even their other teammates thought they had help from the divine. Where one of them ended, the other began - they were extensions of each other, in such a way that even the roughest missions resulted in the two’s safe return, hand in hand.

Thinking about how the soldiers assigned underneath them always knew that they would be coming home in one piece. That the terrifying masked man would make calls for the benefit of them, first. Ensuring that no man would get left behind no matter how dire things seemed.

That the sergeant would always ensure morale was up, throwing around jokes and asking about their personal lives in a way that lifted their spirits. Making sure everyone knew that they were more than just another body to toss aside, always encouraging them to continue on so they could make it back to their loved ones.

Thinking about how many lives Ghost and Soap touched, how many years they spent spreading the legend of the 141’s success - all of it built on the back of the companionship that they found together.

Thinking about how easy of a decision retirement was to them. How, when one brought it up, the other was quick to agree without hesitation. They knew that they had dedicated years of their lives to serving, and that they should finally take some much needed time for themselves. Knowing the legacy they had left behind - a family of soldiers who were as efficient as they were kind.

Thinking about their transition into civilian lives. How Ghost surprised Soap with a small cottage near the town the man grew up in - close enough for family visits, while being just far enough on the wooded outskirts to allow them the privacy they deserved.

How Soap took up leading a team of youth’s football and finally had the time to work on his art. How Ghost retired into Simon, his masks becoming something he left behind as he grew more confident in letting the world see his scars. Working as a trainer for service animals, specifically for veterans - wanting to give back to the community that had graced him with his own dog.

Thinking about Simon and Johnny finally tying the knot. The proposal happening on their yearly anniversary of their first mission together, the question asked as they laid together under the stars. Celebrating the fact that they could take the night to bask in each other’s presence - no reports, missions, or soldiers to otherwise preoccupy them.

Thinking about how the ceremony was small - Soap’s parents and two older sisters on one side, and Price, Gaz and Laswell on the other. Both having their families there to witness the most important day of their life. How both vows and first kisses were exchanged as the witnesses cheered for the happy couple.

Thinking about their much larger reception. Where all of Soap’s extended family came to celebrate the occasion, delighted to finally meet the man who had stolen their John’s heart. How some soldiers crashed the party, the ones who kept in touch after they had served with the duo. Happy to raise their drinks in celebration of their success story - the two having managed long and prosperous careers and escaped to tell the tale.

How Price made a toast to the newly Riley-MacTavishes, recounting multiple embarrassing stories about the both of them while they were under his command. Explaining that they were like the sons he never had, and that he was so proud of who they helped each other grow to be. Maybe even throwing in some jokes that claimed he was the reason that they had gotten together.

Thinking about Simon and Johnny finding somewhere quiet that night, taking a moment to reflect on how amazing it was that their life turned out like it did. Recounting that first mission they went on together, laughing at the thought of a younger Soap saving the seat for the superior he had only just met. Lavishing each other in soft kisses as reality sunk in. The quiet cottage, the dog, the family that loved them both - they had it all.

Thinking about how they promised to spend the rest of their days by the other’s side.

Knowing that they wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

142 notes · View notes

whitexwolfxx310 · 2 years

Text

Meeting the Big Bad (White) Wolf

Pairing:Bucky x femalereader

Summary: After finishing college you are accepted into an internship program at the Avengers Compound to help your new patient into the civilian world. But much to your surprise, your first and currently only, patient is none other than James Buchanan Barnes.

Warnings: Death, possible triggering, military life, and cursing (Maybe 1 or 2 times in this post) Y/N.

Words: 2.9k

Masterlist

Being an Army brat is what inspired you to go to school and help adjust Veteran's back into civilian life. Moving from place to place, never being able to truly establish yourself or relationships with anyone due to the impending doom of you, or them, leaving. Another thought that was always front and center in anyone’s mind linked to the military, was death. At first it’s heartbreaking. You see families and other soldiers crumble due to a fallen comrade. But then one day, it’s like a switch flips, and it becomes a part of life that you learn to accept, no matter how hard of a loss. Being a soldier, everyone around you develops a hard, and sometimes impenetrable, exterior (and interior).

My father, Colonel Castle, retired from the military after 20+ years of active duty with the 107th Infantry. He and my mom moved to a beautiful, secluded home with a lot of wide open space in upstate New York so that we were still close to the place that we considered ‘home’. My dad said he knew that it was meant for him when he realized how quiet it was. I guess spending half of your life fighting in war, silence is welcome over explosions and screams of dying people.

My mom was the forever adored and perfect Army wife. She was always by my fathers side for award ceremonies, promotions, led the FRG (Family Readiness Group) in the battalion. My parents of course supported my older brother Luke when he decided to follow in the Colonels footsteps (and my grandfathers) when he enlisted into the 107th right out of high school. He spent a total of 7 years in the military. We didn’t see him much due to where he was assigned, training for airborne school, and 3 tours overseas.

It happened to be the day I finished my last final in my final semester before getting my masters. I practically skipped my way back to the dorms where my room was already packed and I was so much looking forward to going to my parents home upstate to await my results and see where I got placed for an internship. It was a beautiful day in the beginning of June. The sun was shining so bright and the air was warm, but not humid. After settling into the guest bedroom, I took out a novel that I have been dying to read instead of textbooks. I sat in a wooden rocking chair on the wrap around porch with my book, waiting for my parents to get home. (Mom was always great in the sense of preparing for someone’s arrival. Getting food, snacks, and ingredients to make your favorite dinners. But of course, she was the most perfect model wife and mother). My father no doubt went with her to the store because now he was finally able to have the time to enjoy the little things, even as small as going to the local grocery store.

I’m not sure how long I was reading for, but I got about 8 chapters into my book when I heard a car in the distance. I immediately jumped up in anticipation to greet my parents. I could see the dust being kicked up from the tires of the vehicle down the long driveway. But much to my surprise, it wasn’t my parents. Instead, it was a large, black Chevy Tahoe and my heart sank. I’ve seen this SUV many times, and it never came with good news. Once the car was parked in front of the house, a man dressed in his olive green uniform got out of the SUV.

Oh no... I thought to myself. I swallowed the hard lump in my throat, clenched my teeth and slowly walked down the steps to meet him.

“Ma’am. I’m Sergeant Finn, here on behalf of the 107th Infantry Division”

I nodded my head in understanding. But that was all that I could muster.

“Are you kin to Staff Sergeant Lucas William Castle?”

Here we go. “Yes.” The volume was barely audible. “I-I’m....his sister, y/n.”

Sergeant Finn takes a deep breath and looks straight into your eyes. “I regret to inform you that Sergeant First Class Castle has been killed in action.”

Another olive green uniformed man steps out from behind the Black Tahoe with a triangle box. He briskly starts walking toward you while Sgt, Finn continues speaking of condolences and the details of how, when, where, etc. But it all sounds drowned out, like you’re underwater. You’re not sure how long the one-sided conversation went on with the two men until you realized the heavy weight in your hands from your older brothers flag and the dust being kicked up from the dirt road as they left.

It’s just me now. Just me.

Your life has been at a standstill since you and your family learned the news about Luke. You’ve slept most of the days away, barely coming out of the guest room to socialize, even with your own parents. There’s a piece of you that feels guilty, since you are their only remaining child and yet you can’t bring yourself to talk to your parents, to your friends, even acknowledge that Lucas’ death is real.

Forcing yourself out of bed to take a shower is the big accomplishment of the week. It’s really the only thing you look forward to anymore, since everything else has gotten put on hold (from your own doing). You stare at yourself in the mirror as it starts to fog from the hot water running. The person looking back is someone that you don’t recognize. Poking at the dark bags under your eyes, seeing how dry your skin is and how dull your hair looks. A deep sigh escapes from your chest as you undress to stand naked and vulnerable in the almost unbearable hot water. You stand there in hopes that the water will wash away not just the grime, but the depression and the grief as well.

Feeling slightly better after you shaved, exfoliated and scrubbed, you head back into the guest room to get into a clean pair of comfy clothes. When you walk in you notice something on the bed; A manilla envelope addressed to you. It instantly peaked your curiosity so you sit on the bed and start inspecting it. In the upper right hand corner in big, bold letters read the return address: Stark Industries.

Up until this point you had forgotten the internship you had applied for in your last year of school. It can’t be.... you think to yourself. There is no way I actually got the position, the one where only a single student was chosen to work at the Avengers Compound.

The letter inside the envelope reads:

Dear (y/n),

We are writing this letter to say Congratulations, you have been accepted into the paid internship program working with Earth’s mightiest heroes. You have the opportunity to help make the world a better place by dedicating your time to encourage their well-being, mental health, and expand their abilities. If you choose to accept and seize this moment, we are very much looking forward to working with you. The details below contain your start date, dress code, directions and information on where to go within the compound to get your ID and clearance. We look forward to hearing from you! If you have any questions, please call me directly at (000-000-0000).

Thank you,

Pepper Potts

Shocked is an understatement. You quickly throw on a band t-shirt and sweatpants before running out into the living room waving the letter and jumping up and down to your parents. You’re unable to even get a word out. Both your mom and dad get up off of the couch and take the letter. Together they read it aloud and you eagerly wait for them to realize just what this exactly means. They look up smiling widely and meet your beaming face. Simultaneously you all start cheering and jumping up and down. This is the first shred of good news your family has received in almost a year.

“My dream job!” You say, the most enthusiastically you have been in what seems like forever.

“Oh honey, we are so proud of you!” Mom says as she hugs you tightly. Your father comes up behind your mother and wraps his arms around you both. A sigh of relief comes unanimously.

You have to follow the directions from your acceptance letter to a T because you cannot use Maps in your phone to get there. But of course, can’t make the whereabouts known. It isn’t hard to tell when you have arrived. The runways for jets, collection of high end cars, or just the huge building with the giant ‘A’ on it might be an indication that you’re in the right place.

After parking your car, you flip down the visor to take one last look at yourself before heading in. It’s the first time you’ve worn make up in months, worn clothes other than sweats, and styled your hair. You run your fingers through your long, wavy brown hair to help blend the curls; Then you apply one more layer of gloss to your lips and take a deep breath. You got this, you encourage yourself.

Walking up to the building is even more intimidating than driving to the parking garage. The entrance way is made up of huge impact proof doors. As you approach, they automatically open and there to greet you is none other than the beautiful red headed Mrs. Potts.

“Hi! You must be (y/n)! I’m so excited to finally meet you! You had quite the impressive application, even Tony said so!”

Tony? As in Stark? You swallow your nervousness down at the thought.

“Hi! Wow, Mrs. Potts! Thank you-”

“Please, call me Pepper.” She smiles sweetly. You let out a slightly nervous laugh

“Pepper. Thank you again so much for the opportunity. I’ve been dreaming about this for as long as I can remember!”

Pepper hands you a black leather binder. “Well then,” She says excitedly “Let’s get you right into it!”

You follow the pair of heel clicking long legs and take in the astonishing view. There are computers everywhere, cameras in every corner, different suits from different Avengers through time on display in the walls. Just when you think you have seen it all, the next thing takes your breath away.

Mrs. Potts takes you to security for your picture, ID badge, fingerprints, a company card and clearance. It takes all of two minutes for everything to come back. Pepper smiles “Well it looks like you’re not a convicted felon.” She laughs “Either way, I’m sure one or two are hanging around here somewhere!” She smirks and then let’s out a small laugh. “Let me show you to your office, it’s on the 5th floor.”

She takes you up to the fifth floor and your office if the second door on the right hand side. You walk in, noticing just how much sunlight and the amount of space that you have. It’s taking everything you have for your jaw to not drop on the floor.

“Your desktop is all set up. Here is your first case file-” Pepper tsks through the stack of papers she is lugging around. “Ah! Here you go. Dr. Banner made some notations that he thought might be helpful from his own experiences. This is going to be you’re only case right now since it’s um..” She hesitates, but recollects herself and smiles through it. “Well it will keep you busy!” Pepper smiles as she hands over the file. “Well I’ll leave you to get settled in then!” She starts to walk out of your office but abruptly stops and turns around “Oh, and he likes to be early, just thought you should know!” She says extremely bubbly, just like everything else. You laugh to yourself as you sit down behind your desk for the first time, placing the file down in front of you.

My office....MY office. Wow.

You take in a deep breath and borderline almost pinch yourself to make sure this is real. You giddily scoot your chair forward, put your purse in one of your desk drawers and open the case file.

You freeze. All of the air just got completely sucked out of the room. The first thing you see is an old black and white picture of a handsome man smiling as he swears into the Army. But the name, the name is what nearly makes your heart stop. James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

Your eyes race through the file, reading as much as you can as quickly as you can. The clock on the wall is practically screaming the time as his session with you seems to be racing towards you.

‘He likes to be early...’ Fuck.

As quickly as you can, you get up and run to the door, making sure it’s open for him to feel welcome. Especially for his first session with you. Hurrying back to your desk, you once again go nose deep into Barnes’ file. You scan over his time served in the military, being experimented on, becoming a deadly assassin for Hydra, coming back after 5 years after Thanos, working diligently in Wakanda to undo mind control, and now trying to blend into society and living with the things he’s done and has to live with. You truly feel sorry for all that he has been through. While they cannot be compared on the same level, you both have experienced far more death in your lives than anyone should have to.

Looking up at the clock one last time to see how much time you have left before your first interaction with James, you are startled to already find him sitting on the couch across the room facing you. He was so stealth like that you didn’t even notice he came in.

“Oh! Sergeant Barnes! I’m so sorry I didn’t even hear you come in.”

He stands up, so you mimic his movement to go forward thinking he was going to introduce himself. You feel like a complete idiot when he hands you a piece of paper instead of shaking hands. He avoids making eye contact at all.

“When we’re done here I need you to sign this saying I was here or whatever.”

Very quick to the point I see.

You take the sheet of paper that was handed to you and set it down on your desk as you retreat back to your chair. Although he’s barely said anything, you’re intimidated by him. Which of course you cannot let on. But at the same time, this does not seem like the man who used to be on the news non-stop. While his face was as solid as stone, you noticed the shorter hair, the fact that he was still muscular but more lean and how he in completely covered from the neck down in all black, including a black leather jacket and gloves to match.

“Yes of course. My name is y/n, and it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Barnes.” You say in a calm tone to make it a point to not sound aggressive.

“Yeah...” He replies, looking out the window into the trees. “And it’s Bucky.” He spat back.

“Sorry, I apologize. Bucky it is then.”

The silent treatment is making this more awkward. You clear your throat.

“So Bucky, how are you adjusting to civilian life?”

Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes at your question.

“How well do you think?”

Well this is going to be interesting...

“That boring after so many years of constantly going from fight after fight, huh?”

He actually glances over. Not making eye contact, but actually looked in your general direction.

“I guess you could say that.” He says, agreeing. You keep trying to probe but not push too hard.

“Add on top of that having to conform to an entirely new society.”

This time he lets it go completely unanswered.

“Well, I know that you could possibly have everything that you need here at the Compound, but I just want you to know that I am here. My door is always open if you want to talk or if you need anything. I also live relatively close by so...” You grab a post it note and write down your number. “You can call or text me anytime, I’ll be readily available.”

“Thanks.” Short, sweet and to the point.

You get up from your desk, walking over to Bucky and handing him the post it with your number. You don’t get too close, enough to extend your arm and hand him the paper.

“I need your signature.” He says coldly.

“Right!” You scramble to your desk, finding a pen and writing the date of your session along with your signature. “Here you go...” You say, handing him the paper. He stands up and reaches for the paper and he makes eye contact with you for the first time.

“Thanks” He says again.

“It was nice meeting you, James” You say encouragingly. “I’ll see you the same time tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” He said and walked out.

We’ve got a lot of work to do... We definitely have a long road ahead of us.

Next part

#fanfic #buckybarnes whitewolf wintersoldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes

354 notes · View notes