#when the war is over but she saw so many people die because of it

[firstfirerebel]

𝕳𝖎𝖘

Sumary: Tom Riddle is obsessed with reader and won't tolerate her being somewhere else than his side (Reader is against the hate on Muggles or Muggle-Born wizards)

Pairing: yandere Adult!Tom Riddle/Voldemort x fem! reader

Warnings: Dark content, obsession, mention of the three Unforgivable Curses, implied kidnapping, death, yandere, toxic behavior

Time: First Wizarding War (meaning Voldemort/Tom is still a normal man)

English is not my native language!

I DO NOT SUPPORT OR ROMANTICIZE YANDERE BEHAVIOR!!!

"Why won't you just understand that all I want to do is create a new world, a better one. One were you, and I will rule together!"

"But I don't want that! In fact, I don't even want to be near you! I'll never join you nor support you. Just give up already and let me free!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another day in the Malfoy Manor where you were captured by none other than the dark lord himself. And another day, where you just hoped to escape or die. Sounds harsh? Listen to your story first...

You have known Tom since your Hogwarts time. You weren't in the same house but in the same year, and even though you weren't close, you did happen to have some lessons together. Never you would've considered him a friend. He was just a classmate who sometimes helped you with potions, and in your free time, you sometimes met him in the libary by coincidence, but that was it.

Yeah, you did find him attractive, but you would have never thought to date him or something like that. After all, he always wanted to be alone and didn't like company. You also preferred being alone, to be honest. Still, he somehow scared you from the beginning. His eyes hold no emotions, but in his actions and his aura, all you felt or saw was pure hate. Tom didn't talk about his past, but he didn't have to for you to figure out that it must have been no good one.

Once you were in sixth grade, attacks on muggle-born students happened, and in the end, Myrtle, who was a friend of yours, was killed.

Yeah, she was very difficult , but she didn't mean any harm towards anyone. Besides that, she was bullied by so many students that you just felt pity for her. You were also bullied in your first years at hogwarts until the students stopped out of nowhere. Since then, you have had problems with being social. Most people who were close with you ended up using you for their own benefits or saw you as their therapist or something like that.

Okay, Myrtle was known for being over sensitive, but still, if people knew she would cry because of mean comments, then why make them? She was in her third year when she died, and she only flew to the girls' toilet because Olive Hornby made fun of her again, which made you more sad about her death. It's not like she chose to have glasses. What was wrong with some people?

In the end, Riddle accused Hagird of being responsible for her death. Only you and Proffesor Dumbledore were convinced that it couldn't have been Hagrid. He was way too nice and kind-hearted for such a terrible crime as murder. Though you didn't think it was Tom either.

But it didn't matter. Hagrid was suspended, and that was the end of it.

Since that time, you didn't trust Tom Riddle anymore. He was the one who made everyone believe that Hagird was guilty. And somehow, since the incident, Tom's aura has become even more intimidating and dark. At least that's how it felt to you...

Once you graduated, you didn't hear of him again, which didn't bother you at all. You lived a peaceful life for a long time. You loved your job. You had true friends. You could do your hobbies. And sometimes you even went on a few dates.

But, if it would have stayed that way, you wouldn't be at Voldemorts' side against your will, would you?

The day that ruined your life was a rainy day. It wasn't too cold nor too warm, so you decided to take a walk in the nearby woods. You loved to spend your time there. All the creatures and plants fascinated you every time without fail. Sometimes, you even saw unicorns, which felt like a miracle everytime Besides, it was one of the last peaceful places left.

War would soon come. It was only a matter of time. Everybody knew that. Maybe you only had two months left, or you still got two years. No one knew except the ones on Voldemorts side.

At that time, you only knew that 'The Dark Lord' was a user of the dark arts. And he hated Muggles and Muggle-Borns. Which was enough for you to despite him. Dark magic was never something you approved, and you didn't care about the blood status of anyone. What mattered to you was always the person.

Usually, the woods were filled with life and joy, but that day was different. The forest looked intimidating from the outside, and you even thought about going back home.

Sadly, you didn't listen to your inner voice. But, it wouldn't have changed your fate...

Once you entered it, you didn't hear the happy cheers of the birds like always. And you didn't see any nifflers running by or other creatures in general. Something was definitely wrong.

But you continued to walk, which would soon turn out to be a fatal mistake. As soon as you reached the river, that was in the forest, you realized why everything was so different than usual.

Death Eaters had chased and killed a Muggle-Born witch with her family. They were on a camping trip, as you could tell from the scenery. But there was still a girl, most likely two or three years old, still alive.

Without a second thought, you hid behind a big tree and some bushes around it.

It seemed like the Death Eaters didn't know what to do with her. Maybe she wasn't part of the plan? At first, you thought that this was not an important mission for them, but then you saw Bellatrix. She was very well known as Voldemorts' right hand. She personally learned dark magic from him and was definitely the most loyal Death Eater there ever was. So this must be a really important matter.

You couldn't stand her guts and wanted nothing more than to just slap her even if you didn't know her in person. Dark magic wasn't something you supported. But still, you couldn't deny that she was dangerous and powerful. Her madness didn't lower that fact.

Since dying wasn't on your to-do lost today, you ran away as fast as you could. Since they were arguing so loud, they didn't hear you. Of course, you wanted to help the little girl, but it was simply impossible to get her without getting caught. And against a whole troup of Death Eaters with one being BELLATRIX, you didn't stand a chance.

But luck wasn't on your side...

As you ran away from the horrible scene, you ran into a Death Eater. They wore their typical black clothes and their mask was on, so you didn't see who it was.

Before you could grab your wand, you heard an angry mumbled 'stupor'. You fell onto the ground and blacked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you awoke, you didn't dare to open your eyes. After all, you got caught by a death eater, so you being alive was a miracle. You didn't hear any voices around you. It also wasn't cold and wet around you, so being locked up in a cellar wasn't the case as well...

Beneath you was a comfortable mattress. It was soft and made you want to fall asleep on it. But what the hell was this all about?!

If you're caught by the bad guys, you normally don't wake up in a soft bed. Did they bring you back home? No, that would be too risky. Maybe they wanted some information, but you weren't really someone well known in the wizarding world.

Patiently, you waited a few more minutes, but still not even the slightest noise. So you opened your eyes.

You were in a dark room. The main colors were black and dark green. Black wardrobes and black walls. The bed was made of black wood, but the sheets were dark green, the big carpet on the floor as well. No one was with you in this room. Desperately, you wanted to know where you were. From the colors, you would have guessed that it was a Slytherin Dormitory in Hogwarts. But kidnappers don't bring you to your old school!

Scared you inspected the room once again. Nothing was familiar...

You took a deep breath and stood up. If you would die, fine, but as long as you had the slightest chance of escape you would take it.

The carpet felt also really expensive beneath your feet. By the way, your kidnappers were so nice to pull off your shoes before laying you into bed...

Everything in this room seemed to be just made for this specific room. Which frightened you even more.

Suddenly, the door was opened, and you saw a pretty woman (walking down the street 🤣) in the doorframe. She was slim and tall, had long blonde hair that was tied up in a bun. Her tight dress was rose gold with a black cloak over it. All in all, she looked like a wealthy woman. Her face was pretty as well, but she looked like she got a dung under her nose. Weird.

"Get up and follow me, My Lady," her cold and clear voice told you.

"Uhm, I'm not your Lad -" but she was already on her way to your goal. You had no clue where it was, but following her was better than sitting around, right?

"I know this must be really confusing, but our Lord will explain it to all of us soon. I was just told to get you and call you that. Now, please, don't make this harder for us than it already is,"

You managed to catch up to her. Now you also saw that her eyes were ice blue. Matching her cold voice.

"Who are you?" you asked softly. Kowing her name could be a good hint to where you were.

"Narcissa Black, soon to be Narcissa Malfoy," the woman didn't look at you for one second, her eyes were focused on the walls. So you were still in the claws of the death eaters. Family Black was well known for their puryity, not a family you would have gotten along with.

The corridor was huge by the way. Dark colors still dominating. Only the chandelier was white. Did this belong to one person or was it the headquarters of Voldemort and his minions or what? Instead of getting awnsers you only got more questions as you walked after Narcissa.

Downstairs. A few steps upstairs again. Left. Left again. Right. Straight forward. The second right.

Was this a house or a Labyrinth?! How were you supposed to find your way in here? You even got lost in Digeon Ally!

But after what felt like an internity, you both reached a large black table, people gathered around it. A tall man stood up from his chair as he heard you two enter. As he turned around, you saw your old classmate Tom Riddle, but if he was here, he wouldn't help you. If he became a death eater, he was behind after everything you swore to fight. He wasn't an ally or a friend anymore. He was a danger and a threat to you and many innocent people who weren't here.

You tried to hide behind Narcissa. After all, she was the only person who seemed at least a little trustworthy, and she was another woman. Maybe she knew how unsafe you felt because mostly men were in this room. The only other woman was a mad Bellatrix, never ever you would trust her.

"Ah, there they are. Come in, " Tom spoke. His voice had changed, and it was more intimidating than it was before.

You didn't move an inch, but Narcissa started to move forward. Being all alone without someone to hide behind was more scarry, so you followed her, but you were still behind her.

"Oh no, don't be afraid. No one here will even dare to glare at you, my dear. They knew the punishment would be worse than death," You couldn't recognize Tom anymore. The hate in his presence, his voice, his appearance, everything scared you. Back in school, you didn't fear him, at least not for his house or his roots. Just because he was a Slytherin, it didn't mean that he was evil, but now? His opinions were completely different than yours, and this was not a stupid novel of the stereotype enemies to lovers cause he was just plain and simple wrong with his thoughts on muggleborn or muggles in general.

[Funfact: I don't get the hype on this topic, see, for being autistic I got bullied for many years and than reading a story about two people hating each other's guts and than falling for each other just feels wrong for me, you can read whatever you want ofc, this was just my unpopular opinion]

Still, you hid behind Narcissa, but as she tried to go towards a man with long blonde hair and her crazy sister, you felt completely defenseless. The only person you used to know seemed to be the head of everything here, and Narcissa wasn't at your side anymore. Sadly, Tom saw your fear. He went towards you and pulled you in an unwanted hug. Softly, he petted your hair and whispered sweet nothings. As soon as this horror hug ended, he smiled at you and turned towards the others.

"If anything should happen to her, everyone will be held responsible! You know the punishment, now go! We are done here!" As the last word fell, everyone disapparated, and only you and him were left.

And then you realized it. If he could order the death eaters around, he must be the dark lord himself. Tom Riddle, your old classmate, was Voldemort.

You backed away from him but regretted it soon. Tom didn't take rejection good...

"Why are you scared? I won't harm you. In fact, I am the one who has kept you safe since I saw you!"

"Are you mad?!" You yelled back into his already mad face. Wrong choice again. In full rage he stormed through the room and kicked everything in his way. Chairs and even the whole table practically flew through the room.

"Who protected you from those bullies back in Hogwarts?! Who kept you safe from all filthy boys who just wanted to break your heart?! Who killed the mudblood Myrtle so you were safe from her?!"

So Dumbledore was right... Tom opened the chamber of secrets all those years ago. And killed your friend.

"Myrtle was my friend! I never asked for your personal protection, Tom!"

Somehow that calmed him down! Yep, that man was a complete psychopath...

"But you didn't have to, my dear", he ran towards you and cupped your cheek while looking into your eyes.

"Keeping you safe will always be my priority. I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you and I knew that I would always protect you. Look around, here in our mansion you will always be safe. No one will ever harm you again. We'll be safe here! After I've won this war you and I can live here in peace. Just imagine it, I'll make us so many horcruxes that we won't ever die. Here we will raise our kids and they'll never go through the pain of being an orphan like I was", pain and hate was in his voice at the simple thought of 'death' and 'orphan'. But having a family with this insane man? Hell nah, you'd flee the moment you got the chance!

"I know now this is scary for you, and you might think of escaping, but this whole mansion is surrounded by death eaters, the moment you even think of fleeing you'll be brought to your room and trust me, I know how to punish or torture someone so that no mistace will ever happen again",

And that's how you ended up here. Behind you was the man that claimed to love you fast asleep. Yet he was the one who made you go through all of this. Most traumas you had were because of his action. If this was love, than you could already drown in it.

You had no idea if you could ever escape or if even the try of escaping was a good idea. This man wasn't well known for his kindness or his patience.

Maybe playing along would make it easier, but would your mental health take that well? Or would that make him do worse things 'out of love'?

Still, you rethought your first actions towards Tom, trying to figure out what made his obsession start. Was it your look? Your hairstyle? Your body language?

Or was it just being unlucky?

#Tomxreader #reader insert #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #voldemort #voldemort x reader #yandere #dark themes #yandere x reader #harry potter #harry potter universe #first wizarding war

[saggitary]

Clone Wars Headcannons

All over the place but yeah enjoy

Ahsoka will let her men test out pick up lines before shore leave and give them tips on how to better pick up girls

Ahsoka picked up her eye rolling habit from Wolffe

Fives and Echo refer to Rex as “oh captain my captain” (Rex is very annoyed)

Clone troopers sleep better when they cuddle up with someone

Anakin has given Ahsoka and many of his men heart attacks when he randomly removes his prosthetic hand

There are painted line of the Resolutes floor near the medical bays to mark how far troopers have made it when they attempt to escape the medics

This usually ends with the medics full body tackling their vod and occasionally their Jedi

Hardcase has the furthest mark with Fives very near behind him

Much to Wolffe’s dismay young animals love to imprint of him during campaigns, he says he hates it but Sinker once saw Wolffe carrying around a baby loth cat wrapped in one of his blankets

Rex is a natural blonde due to a mutation and I will die on this hill

Fox and Wolffe have the highest spice tolerance of their batch and their brothers are very concerned for them

Based on the scene in the Umbara arc where Tup is hanging onto the gunship handle with 2 hands, he is a very nervous flier

Ahsoka noticed that Tup was a nervous flier and now tries to get on the same ships as him to help keep him calm

The 501st has different tallies up throughout the barracks for random things like ‘how many times the general loses his lightsaber’, ‘best quotes for the week’, etc

Clone troopers speak mando’a, kaminoan, and basic fluently

Rex always wins arm wrestling contests, even against Anakin

Ahsoka learned how to play sabacc from the Wolf Pack and has been banned from playing in most 501st circles because she always wins

The CCs have the ability to sleep with their eyes open and Wolffe and Fox actively chose to do so to creep everyone else out

Cody has broken his wrists and his shins from fist fighting droids but he continues to do it

Many troopers in the 501st have also attempted to fist fight droids but quickly stopped when the medics refused to treat them

Anakin has also attempted to fist fight droids and damaged his cybernetic hand enough that he had to get a new one

Ahsoka purrs when she sleeps close to other people 

Hardcase almost cried when he first heard Ahsoka purr because he thought it was cutest damn thing

Capture the flag is the 501st’s favorite down time activity

Cody has hidden drugs in Obi-Wan’s tea to make him sleep which Obi-Wan was rather offended by but continued to accept all tea given to him by his commander

Ahsoka set up a projector in the rec room and on hyper space trips she plays holomovies so her men can be ‘cultured’ 

Ahsoka is good friends with Padme and Riyo Chuchi and regularly gets together with them for girls nights

Rex has gotten a tattoo while drunk but Cody is the only one that knows about it

Ahsoka found out when her men’s birthday or decanting days are and makes sure to wish them a happy birthday

Ponds, Bly, and Fox were very confused when they received a transmission from Rex, Cody, and Wolffe’s vod’ika wishing them a happy birthday

#The Clone Wars #clone wars headcanons #sag’s stuff #Ahsoka Tano #Anakin Skywalker #obi wan kenobi #captain rex #commander cody #Commander Wolffe #commander fox #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper tup #Clone Troopers #501st Battalion #this is chaos #but these thoughts just circle around my mind #so i thought id share them #yes these are mainly 501st #and #ahsoka and the 501st #because they are my blorbos #Ahsoka purrs #clones cuddle

[literatecowboy]

The King With No Name

3. Cat and Maus

Part 4 here Summary: König - the king of Caldera - has been called upon by your father to choose a bride from his daughters in order to establish an alliance to keep peace over the lands they rule. When he arrives, he is enraptured by you, your father’s eldest child - an unconventional woman by all standards. He pursues your hand in marriage, doing his best to make you fall in love with him like he has fallen in love with you - much to your dismay Author's Notes: Inspired by the royalty fics I’ve been seeing around lately Warnings: Arranged marriage, eventual smut, pining, dogged pursuit of reader’s love and affection

Read part 1 here

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“Are you alright, maus? There were many people in there,” König said, reaching up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The carriage you were in rattled down the street, headed back to the castle. The reception would be held in the gardens and would undoubtedly last through the night.

“You’ve got what you wanted.” were the first words you’d uttered all day, your voice small and broken. 

“Not yet, maus. I want you to love me like I love you,” he said, squeezing your thigh gently. You recoiled and got up to sit on the other side of the carriage. König did not stop you.

—

You emerged into the garden to applause. Doing your best to keep your head down, you shuffled to the long table at the head of the clearing and sat at one of the head chairs, doing your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Your mother sat beside you and squeezed your arm under the table. 

“Smile,” she ordered through gritted teeth. “You need to at least pretend to enjoy yourself.” she hissed as König sat on your other side, greeting your guests with pride in his voice. 

“You cannot make me smile like you have made me marry him,” you whispered, refusing to meet her gaze. She stiffened but said nothing more. 

The reception dragged on like the ceremony had, but at least you weren’t alone. After the food was served and guests had begun to get up and mingle, you excused yourself from the table and found Lydia in the crowd. 

“Is Sadie alright?” you asked quietly, pulling her into a grove of oak trees and away from the crowd. 

“She doesn’t want to be here. She didn’t come to the ceremony either. I’m worried for her.” Lydia admitted, shaking her head. 

“I saw Ferdinand at the ceremony but I haven’t seen him at the reception. I’m afraid this decision of father’s has created several enemies for me to face,” you said with a sigh, wringing your hands nervously. 

“She’ll come around. You had no choice. I’m…sorry. I know this wasn’t what you wanted in the least.” Lydia said, squeezing your shoulders. 

“Lydia, I’m afraid,” you admitted. She sighed and nodded, pain in her eyes. 

“I’m afraid for you, sister. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Sadie because she was so set on marrying him…but he’s a brute. In a kingdom that wars so often with others…I fear for your safety.” she said softly. 

“Maybe it’s good that it isn’t Sadie, then. I’d rather die than let anything happen to you or her,” you said resolutely, shaking your head and glaring back to the reception at where your mother and father stood, laughing with their guests. 

“You are strong. I know you will come back to us.” Lydia murmured. The soft crunch of footsteps sounded from behind you and Lydia looked down, nervous. 

“Wife,” König called softly. “Will you please come back to me? My men would like to meet you.” 

“I’m speaking with my sister,” you said coolly, refusing to look over your shoulder at him. Lydia shrunk away under his gaze. 

“It’s okay, I should go find Henry,” she admitted, slipping past you and giving König a wide birth as she went to rejoin the party. You finally turned to face him and he took you in quietly. 

“I have not yet had a chance to tell you how lovely you look today, maus. You will make a fine queen,” he said, offering you his arm. 

“I would be a fine queen even if I was not beautiful or wed to you,” you said coldly, ignoring him and walking away from the grove. He followed like a lost puppy. 

“And yet you are wed to me,” he said, and you could hear his smile under his hood. His joy made you scowl. 

“I didn’t choose to be.”

“Correct, I chose to be.” You whirled on him in an instant, instinctively going for your hunting knife only to remember that your mother had confiscated it before the ceremony. 

“It’s best you get this through your head now. I don’t love you. I don’t like you. I think you’re fucking creepy. If it were up to me I would have sent you home unwed and missing your balls with the fear of me haunting your nightmares for the rest of your life.” you snarled, shoving him. He didn’t budge and caught your hands, keeping them pressed tightly to his chest as he gazed down at you.

“You are a fire-forged woman,” he breathed, his eyes dilating. You could feel his heart racing under your palm and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling you closer. You felt something hard brush against your belly and blushed, squirming in his grasp. He was warm and smelled oddly nice, but when he caressed your cheek, his hand was rough and calloused. 

“Am I interrupting anything?” a man called out as he approached, and you pushed yourself away from König when his arms slackened. 

“No,” you muttered, heat creeping to your cheeks. 

“Ah, maus, this is the captain of my guard and my most trusted soldier, Sir Wilhelm. You will see much of him in the coming days as we return home to Caldera.” König said. Sir Wilhelm knelt and dipped his head respectfully to you. 

“My lady. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said. 

“Caldera is not my home. My home is here.” you snapped, folding your arms over your chest and huffing. 

“Thank you, sir, for your kind introduction,” you muttered as you slipped past him and headed back to the wedding feast. 

“You chose a wild one,” Wilhelm said, raising an eyebrow as he watched you disappear into the crowd of dancing and drinking guests. 

“She’s perfect,” König breathed softly, watching you go. 

—

As you predicted, the reception lasted long into the night. While it was underway, your things along with provisions and wedding gifts were packed into wagons and sent ahead back to Caldera. It was planned that you would depart the next morning with König - your family and the gathered lords would see you off following the seal of the alliance. You would not give them that chance. 

At the end of the night, König walked with you back to your room, one hand on your back as he guided you gently. 

“Are you sure you would not rather sleep beside me, maus?” he asked, the worry evident in his voice. 

“I wish to spend one more night in my bedroom,” you said stiffly, opening the door to your chambers and stepping inside. König eagerly tried to follow but you put a hand on his chest. 

“Alone, König,” you said, looking down as he took your hand in his again and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. 

“I will see you tomorrow then, maus,” he murmured before departing. Before the door had even fully shut behind you you were ripping free from your wedding dress and tossing it to the floor. The room was sparse - most of your things had already gone. As quickly as you could, you tugged on your pants and a tunic before donning your light armor and tying your hair back. In an instant, your weapons were on you again, and you slid the window open, sliding out into the rain and dropping down onto the roof below. 

You raced as quickly and quietly as you could across the battlements and leaped down into a pile of hay sitting outside of the stable before scrambling out and into where the horses were kept. Your mare let out a confused greeting as you led her from the stable where she had been leaning across the aisle to nuzzle against the nose of König’s horse. 

Throwing her saddle on, you strapped your gear to her and ensured you had everything you’d need to survive in the wilderness for a time. 

“Come on lady, we’re out of here,” you murmured as you mounted up, drawing the hood of your cloak up as you rode out of the gates and into the night. 

This time, König was too busy touching himself to the memory of you in his arms with your name on his lips to see you flee. 

—

Your absence was discovered by Lydia just after dawn. König, who was already awake and waiting for you to come out, had been startled by the news. Your parents were…less so - but they were furious. 

König had agreed to sign the treaty to establish the alliance anyway, and after doing so with considerably less fanfare than had been planned, met with Sir Wilhelm. 

“There are tracks in the mud going west. She left just before the rain let up late last night,” he said as he and Knonig knelt to study the hoofprints that lead off the road. 

“Ja. Just after I left her.” König admitted, rising and looking off into the plains. You were undoubtedly long gone by now, riding deeper into your father’s kingdom. 

“Should have posted guards. I didn’t think she’d try something this drastic.” Wilhelm muttered, climbing back onto his horse. König did the same. 

“No, no, it is alright. She is not a prisoner. She has merely left for our honeymoon without me.” König explained, patting his horse’s neck and shifting in the saddle. “Have the men gather things to set up camp and then follow my tracks. I will catch up with her soon,” he said. With that, König urged his horse on, shooting forwards off the roads and onto the plains in pursuit of you.

—

You stopped to rest that evening after a long day of riding, exhausted from not sleeping and having eaten little throughout the day. A little lake fed by a roaring waterfall would be your campsite, you decided, as you started a fire to cook the rabbit you’d hunted earlier. Your horse grazed nearby as you set up your little tent in the plush grass and unfurled your bedroll so you could enjoy a peaceful sleep later. 

But despite yourself, you couldn’t relax. You still smelled like König. Of course, his scent was a pleasant one, but having it constantly clinging to you almost defeated the purpose of your escape.

After checking to make sure nobody was in the little forest grove you’d set up camp in, you stripped down and washed your clothes in the stream before leaving them on a sun-warmed rock to dry. Enjoying the warm water, you decided to wade in a little before diving forward and swimming out to the waterfall. 

Where the waterfall landed was surprisingly shallow and you stood up under it, laughing as the water dumped over your body and soaked your hair. The sun was setting now and the water looked golden in the light, the trees around you blowing gently. A fox cried out a little ways off and butterflies danced over the surface of the water. Birds chattered in their nests and the grass rippled in the wind. 

König watched from afar as you ran your hands up your body and through your hair, his cheeks red and his cock hard in his pants. He studied you as you jumped back into the deepest part of the water, disappearing for a moment before resurfacing and sucking in a breath. He slipped a hand into his armor and palmed himself a little through his pants before retracting his hand, face burning in shame. 

Your horse came to drink at the edge of the pool and you kissed her on the nose, eventually emerging and laying out on a rock so that the setting sun would dry you. 

König did his best to avert his eyes but could not succeed. He made himself turn away and return to his horse, climbing on to pretend as though he had just stumbled upon you. 

“Maus? Are you here?” he called out after a moment, trying to make extra noise as he rode through the undergrowth and toward your camp. You scrambled to put your dried clothes on and finished tugging your shirt down as he entered the clearing, your face red. 

“You left without me,” he said as he climbed off of his horse, looking around your camp as if he was just seeing it for the first time. “You have made me chase you like I am a cat, little maus.”

“But you have chosen a beautiful spot to camp. Tell me, where are we going?”

-----

taglist: @0mint-chocolate0, @elowynnlane, @littlelovebug98, @saturnknows, @passdaweedgaara, @lexuria

#könig #konig #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty #cod #konig modern warfare #konig fanfiction #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #mw2

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

Watching a series about how cult leaders are made and again I'm in awe of how Tomura had everything laid down for him to become one.

He kinda was during the Paranormal Liberation Front bit, but he really didn't care about them 😭

It's impressive how many times he chose to be honest with the members of the League. He was not trying to manipulate them, he was not trying to mastermind anything ill intended with them??? He never tried to use AFO's name to give himself more importance, which is wild. You're the heir of the king of the underworld, but you use it as an excuse for others to bow down to him. Sure, you call yourself the king, but that's because you will do it by "your own merits"???

There's even a moment in MVA when Compress is soooooo worried over Tomura's wellbeing that he uses Tomura's identities as leverage to force Doc Garaki to help them!!! Crazy crazy, Mr. Compress goes "HE CAN'T DIE HE'S AFO'S SPECIAL BOY RIGHT? YOU MUST HELP HIM". It's so clear that Mr. Compress didn't care about the AFO bit, but he knew Garaki cared and Compress would do anything to keep Tomura protected.

I'm just saying!!

He could have taken advantage of them, but the most Tomura did was break them free and told them to cause havoc. He never encouraged them to not be friends, to distrust each other or to only pay attention to him. He never encouraged them to compete to be closer to him. There weren't any ranks beside him as the boss and even then he'd go beside them to war, he'd fight next to them, he would listen to their complaints and change what he could to accommodate their demands.

Right from the start, Tomura never saw them as his slaves (like AFO) or soldiers (like Redestro). He did call them pawns in a game once at the start. The difference with Overhaul is that Tomura saw himself also as a pawn and he saw the League as important characters. That's his team. He won't plan for them to die or sacrifice themselves. He plans for them to succeed! He plans on making their dreams come true, not just his. He won't put his own goals over theirs, he won't destroy what they like, he won't cut down their freedom.

Tomura explicitly opposed the cult-like systems of bnha. He called Redestro a coward for letting his people fight for him while he watched from afar. Tomura challenged Overhaul over the importance of their "subordinates", making clear that he didn't consider the League of Villains disposable or even replaceable. While AFO took over his body he would only talk about himself over and over, but whenever Tomura broke through and as soon as he was back in control, he talked about his friends and the League. Even through the possession and the fighting and the pain, they were in his mind.

He was thinking of them.

Tomura was a brat. He would throw tantrums and call himself the king and give orders and arrange plans without them. The difference is that Tomura never tried to step over the League of Villains. He didn't care if Spinner had a weak quirk, he was a valuable member as the rest. He didn't punish Twice for bringing Overhaul to them, instead gave him a chance to make it up because he knew that Twice was feeling bad about it. Tomura allowed Dabi to come and go as he pleased, trusting him even if Dabi never had a good recruited lol. He'd call Toga a brat, but he'd defend her too and he'd answer to her whenever she questioned him. He spared an entire cult system for Compress and his sushi. He terrorized Overhaul to avenge Magne.

Tomura never snapped at any of them beyond their introductions. Even when they'd sometimes threaten him physically. Even then.

He had everything to be a crazy cult leader who promised the ending of times, a free world and whatever. He talked a lot of bullshit, said a lot of true things, but he was human about it, sincere.

He never lied to the heroes either, did he? Never said something he didn't believe in. Never hide his hatred or resentment. Tomura never pretended to be someone he was not, unlike AFO.

I think about all of this when people ask if Tomura can be saved. I think about how his circumstances were the worst imaginable, about the weight of the grooming, abuse and the brainwashing he had to survive. I think of 21 consecutive years of hell on Earth, but somehow he isn't as cruel as others. He can be, he showed us as much. He has done terrible things just because he wanted, not 'cause he was told to or manipulated into doing it. If he wanted, he could be as cruel as AFO.

And yet.

And yet.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #league of villains #lov #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #shigaraki tomura

[crazylittlejester]

I’m gonna go on a crazy ass rant because I’m upset and also very tired

A huge reason as to why I characterize Warriors the way that I do, regarding his fear of being poisoned and his food anxiety, is a way to explain myself and my own anxieties caused by my allergies, because when I say to someone I don’t think I can eat the food at the party/function/their house EVEN IF it was specifically made to be free of my allergens, they just don’t understand why I can’t eat it. They just don’t understand that just because it’s ‘safe’ doesn’t mean I feel safe enough to eat it, because there’s always that lingering ‘What if’ in my mind that food made outside of my vision is contaminated somehow.

It is so HARD to explain to people the genuine fear that you are going to die because a food created an odd texture in your mouth and you gave yourself a panic attack over nothing. It breaks my heart every time I go to my friends house and her mom offers to make me food because I’ve been at her house for thirteen hours and haven’t eaten a meal with them, because even though she cleans everything and offers to let me watch her make it, there’s still this loud screaming voice in my mind saying that that food is not safe to eat. And it just NEVER goes away. I feel awful because her mom is so sweet and willing to help me, and I just can’t ever accept because I manage to convince myself it’s contaminated every time

I have been dealing with this for my entire life and never not once have I been able to get someone to understand what this feels like or seen it shown in a media form anywhere. I’ve had family and therapists both just tell me to get over myself, because I’m being ‘ridiculous’ and the craziest thing to me EVER is that for the first time in nineteen years, I have had an outlet to throw this frustration into. Warriors and the food issues I have given him are so important to me because for the first time in my life I can explain this fear through a character and even if people may not relate or really, truly get what it’s like, they understand. They understand and they recognize it as a valid fear, and it’s because of a fanfiction about a traumatized war hero. (which is INSANE to me that this is what it took for people to understand, but you know what, I’ll take it)

This rant was inspired because I opened a sealed container of ice cream and the allergen labels were incorrect and now I can’t eat it and I’ve wasted money and I’m so upset and it’s been a really long week, but also because I never saw anyone talking about this when I was a kid, and if I’d had someone there to represent me like this, or just be there for me to connect with, I would’ve felt a lot better. Understanding allergies and food restrictions is so important for so many reasons, the most important being that if you know how to help someone, you can save their LIFE. And for other people who feel the same way I do, it’s so GOOD to know you’re not alone and that there’s someone out there who gets what you’re dealing with

If I can make people understand what it’s like to live life this way, then that is so important to me. If I can explain to people what to do in an emergency situation because their friend is having a allergic reaction, I will, because not enough people understand how allergies work, and I’m sick and tired of hearing stories about kids with allergies who were peer pressured into eating when they didn’t feel comfortable and then suffering the consequences, and I am TIRED of seeing companies mislabel their fucking food.

Also do NOT be afraid to ask any friends or classmates or coworkers with allergies how to use an epi pen because You Could Save Their Life. If anyone is curious, I’LL tell you, or look up a youtube video I’m sure there are some on there

Anyways, this is why I give Warriors the food issues I do in my fics, for anyone else out there with allergies who’s ever felt invalidated by people telling them their anxieties were stupid, and so people who have no idea what it’s like to fear your food will kill you can try to understand that this is the irritating reality for some of your peers. (not that everyone with allergies has this exact experience, I have a friend with allergies who just eats whatever and prays it wont kill them, but I know now that there are plenty of people out there with allergies who DO have this experience)

Sorry for kinda ranting, (I’m just a little guy 🥺), but this is something that is so hugely important to me, and sorry Warriors but you had too similar of a problem so now you get my exact issues 🫶

#linked universe #lu warriors #tw vent #kind of?? tagging it just in case #anyways i am FINE just really annoyed 🕺🕺🕺 #jes talks #jes rambles #jes rants

[romanoffsbish]

Through the Eras

Natasha Romanoff x Fem(Stylist)!Reader

Natasha was a master of disguise, she didn’t need any help in that department, but Fury had a different plan, and she didn’t feel a need to push back when she saw it unfolding. Aka, Natasha is a simp for R, and this is them falling in love over a decades time.

2011-IM2, 2012-OG Avengers, 2014-Winter Soldier, 2016-Civil War, 2018-IW, 2023-EG

All Canon besides EG.

Warnings: Violence, Death, Grief, but like mostly happy/fluffy.

Smut: Bottom!Nat, Oral/Strap(N), Praising.

2002

Natasha was hesitant about being in America, the land where a donut could be bigger than the size of someone's head, and where majority of experiences were rooted in fake niceties. Nothing about the foreign country felt like home to her, not that she knew much about such a feeling, but she knew it was best to get acclimated seeing as how she hadn't been given much of a choice. Either she give her life away to this organization, or she die at their hands.

Upon entering the SHIELD base her green eyes were tracking any and all movements as she trailed behind Agent Barton, the man she swears fealty to for sparing a wretch such as herself from a perceivably deserved death.

The agency is like nothing Natasha had ever seen before, majority of the agents here wore basic black suits with ties like you'd see on an individual working a 9-5, not so much at a government agency full of professional spies and assassins as she knew it to be.

Back in the Red Room the men employed by General Dreykov were almost always sporting full tactical suits like the cowards that they were to keep the little girls in line, and to surround the man for safety purposes. Here though, as Clint escorts her to the man in charge she doesn't see him with a team, no, it's simply a man in a trench coat, wearing an eye patch with a raven haired woman to his right.

"Romanoff.," the odd man with the eye patch nods at her stoically., "Barton here has decided to take a chance on you, don't make us here at Shield regret honoring that choice.," his hand reached for hers, she observed the gesture with hesitation, but eventually she met his attempt.

"Welcome to Shield Agent Romanoff, Hill here will escort you to your quarters, good luck."

—

2011

After nine years Natasha had yet to find the people of New York bearable, but she's learned to make due, and has acclimated very well as a good spy is trained to do, but moreover she had found she began to crave the perceived American dream. Over time she proved her expressed loyalty to the Director, as well as her mission partner turned family, and successfully crawled up ranks until she reached a Level 6.

With climbing ranks came more respect and then with that came new responsibilities. For years now she'd listened to Nick drone on about his determination to build a group of remarkable people to fight the battles that the bulk of your everyday people never could.

"Seriously Fury?," she scoffed while looking over the many files., "This guy is remarkable?"

"Stark is many things: a billionaire, arrogant, even a pompous asshole, but if you can look beyond the overly jelled back hair, and childish antics you'll see he's untouchably intelligent."

"Is that why he's letting himself die then?"

"Listen, Romanoff, I did not assign you this case for you to question my judgment.," he groaned, and ran his hand over his face., "You're here because I need eyes on the inside, and someone who can break him down until he accepts our help, and joins the good fight."

"So I'm your eye candy?," she scoffs, arms now folded across her chest as she glares at him., "Look, it's not ideal, but in part, yes you are."

"I don't appreciate such a deduction, I'm a skilled agent.," he nods., "Yeah, which is why you'll be gathering me intel, and helping the pitiful man who's too weak to help himself."

Natasha continued to glare, but Nick just moved passed it as he's grown used to her pushback over the years., "You're on your own in the field, but Coulson's on standby, and I've assigned Y/L/N to assist you when need be."

"The agency's hairdresser?"

"Now who's deducing?," you snarked from the door as you strolled into the room., "I also do your makeup, pick out your clothing, and keep your mind stimulated when you're bored."

Natasha glared at you for your interruption, but it was in vain, she always found your presence rather pleasant, even if she's only ever been able to experience you in passing thus far.

"I take it the two of you got it from here then?"

After you both nodded at the director he left the room smiling, and Maria smiled back., "Playing matchmaker now, are we Nick?"

—

Natasha's face never wavered when you made decisions for her, she was not one to push back outwardly if she didn't know you well, but you could detect the faux indifference in her eyes.

"Well, you seem to not be down for the bob, or the fringe look.," you called her bluff., "What about if I were to make you bald, super sexy.," she unexpectedly smirked at your teasing.

"Not sure Stark's into the bald type, have you even thought about that?," you grimaced., "Now Natasha, why would I ever care about a mans opinion? I don't usually think of men, let alone their opinions on a clients appearance."

Natasha's stoic expression returned as you spoke of her so professionally, she wanted to frown, but she knew it wasn't right since you were also here for a job. Now she's starting to understand the whole eye candy trope, as she's essentially procured you here as her very own.

"How about we darken your natural shade a little bit, and add extensions?" you held up the desired shade, and the glint in her eyes had you sold, even if all she did was shrug indifferently.

—

Natasha's body stiffened when your hands fell on her hips to turn her., "Something is off.," she frowned., "Gee, thanks Y/L/N.," you smirked, then made a 'aha' noise, spinning her back around before dropping your hold on her.

"Well?"

"Oh, sorry.," you smiled sheepishly., "Tuck the shirt into the pants, it'll be more form fitting."

"That was your big save?," she chuckled while doing exactly what you said, a smile on her face as she silently agreed with your judgment call.

"Don't mock me Romanoff, or I'll make sure to give your nose extra attention with my blush."

Natasha smirked cockily, a snide joke on the tip of her tongue, but instead of speaking, her breath was hitching when you straddled her lap, and nonchalantly began her makeup.

"Uh, Y/L/N.," you hummed, makeup sponge in hand as you prepared to apply her concealer., "Is there a reason you're sat in my lap?"

"There are no other places to sit in this tiny bathroom work space Romanoff, and there's no way I'm standing on my feet for over an hour.," your answer was playfully spoken, but serious.

"An hour?," you stifled a laugh at the sight of her scrunched features., "It's just make up."

"Do I question your fighting process?"

"I guess not.," she softly replied, her mind was a bit too focused on how you were so close she could feel your breaths to really push back, plus, she didn't really mind the proximity.

She became so distracted by you that she failed to hear the way your breath hitched after her arms unconsciously moved from dangling by her uncomfortably to wrapped around you.

"Done.," you swiped the stick over her lips, and stood up, much to Natasha's disappointment.

"How do I look?," she asked, and you turned to her with a playful smile., "Like a million bucks, you can say thank you now like a civilized person, or later after you wow the billionaire."

Natasha smirked, it excited her a bit to hear a tinge of jealousy in your tone, it told her this whole connection wasn't exactly one sided.

"Thank you krasivaya.," she left a soft kiss to your cheek, your knees nearly buckled, and you were praying for your sake she didn't see that., "Natasha, your lips weren't dry yet.," you chose to scold her to take the heat off of your bodies previous betrayal just before catching her off guard as you gripped her chin, and reapplied.

"Good luck."

"Why would I need luck when I apparently look like a million bucks?" she mused., "The money hungry fool will be under my spell in seconds." a playful wink was thrown your way as she left, but you were smart enough to know she was telling the truth, she had the kind of effortless beauty that could be used to topple regimes, and to your misfortune, your sensitive heart.

—

"What's your name lady?," Tony Stark, her op, immediately shouted at her as she entered, and she turned to him with a neutral expression., "Rushman. Natalie Rushman."

You giggled., "James Bond, really? You're such a cliche Romanoff," you could just feel the eye roll she was likely being forced to internalize all the while wondering why she agreed to your unhelpful proposal of wearing ear pieces.

Natasha wanted to smirk at your comment, because she was very much a cliche in this moment, but she had to remain in character as the "hot woman" from legal, and to get in Tony's good graces she agreed to a sparring match with his security guard, Happy Gilmore.

"You ever boxed before?"

"I have, yes."

"Oh boy, is he in for a treat.," you giggle, and Natasha smiled at the sound, and fortunately for her it seemed to fit in the moment anyways.

"What, like the Tae Bo? Booty Boot Camp? Crunch? Something like that?"

"Oh, no the fuck he didn't.," you verbalized aloud what her very expression did, you heard her clear her throat, and frowned, the woman you knew would've given him what for, but you knew she was forced to remain cordial here.

Tony called out to her, causing her to deviate her attention momentarily, and for Happy to believe that this was a teaching moment.

"Rule number one, never take your eye off your opponent."

"Rule number one, don't be a misogynistic douche.," you grumbled, and to your extreme delight you could hear Natasha grunt, and all other parties either shrieking or groaning.

"Atta girl."

Natasha rushed out shortly after the incident, and after dropping off the paperwork in her hand she made her way back to your hotel.

"I took the liberty of ordering room service.," you said as soon as she plopped beside you on the bed in her casual clothes., "I also used the company card to rent Moonraker for you."

Natasha slapped your arm lightly., "You're going to hold this against me for life, huh?"

"Ooh, I'm a for lifer?," she smiled softly at your tease, it was too soon to know really, but her heart fluttered at the idea of a forever with you.

"Who else will do my hair and makeup? Me?" she scoffs playfully. "I'm too high ranked to be expected to do such mundane, easy things."

"For that cruel dig I am eating the bonus chocolate covered strawberry!" you grumbled, she cackled as she swiped it from the tray and was met with your glare. "No, I don't think so."

Instead of chasing her down you laid out like a starfish on the mattress. "I heard the couch is comfortable, I hope you find that true," she gasped at your insinuation, then if only to show off she lifted you effortlessly, laid down beside you, and pressed play. "I'm sorry Y/L/N."

"I won't hold it against you Rushman," you rolled to your side, then faced the screen just the same. "Good, I kinda need you on my side."

——

The following day you were expected to make her look fancy, so you set her up in a red dress, and did a simple makeup look. "Have fun."

"Oh my, did I forget to tell you that you're coming with me," she looked at you innocently, but the glint in her eye screamed of mischief.

Your voice expectedly cracked, "What?"

"Pepper said I could bring a plus one, and Fury said I could bring you, so go get ready toots."

Natasha waited patiently on the edge of your shared bed on her phone, hardly listening as you grumbled from behind the closed bathroom door. "This is so uncool, I didn't bring anything fancy to wear," you peaked your sopping wet head out to pout at her in the hopes that you'd be spared going, but she held up a garment bag while smirking tauntingly, "Hurry up now malysh, we can't be late."

—

Natasha's hand settled over your hip as the two of you entered the venue together, you were in a black suit with a red dress shirt to match her dress, you looked like a couple, and the thought of the possibility made your skin burn, and it had your heart skipping with a doomed hope.

"Oh, who's this beauty?" Tony grasped your hand without asking, pulling it to his lips, and you grimaced as he pressed them to your hand. Natasha saw the disgusted look on your face, and instantly spoke. "This is Zoe Rushman."

"So beauty runs in the family then?" she shook her head, and pulled you even closer to her side. "No, it's a bit premature on the name, but she's my fiancé, and if the laws pass in our favor we'll be tying the knot next Spring."

Tony nodded, then took his leave to God knows where, and to be clear you surely didn't care.

"We're engaged?" Natasha spun you in front of her and leaned into your ear. "Yes, I will not subject you to Tony's flirting if I can avoid it."

"I thought you were meant to entice him."

"Not anymore, I already secured my spot, so really this is mutually beneficial." she mused, and you chuckled. "So I'm your arm candy?"

"Precisely," she kissed the corner of your lips, it felt real, but you reasoned it was for the sake of your story, so you shoved the feelings down.

"Natalie?!" you both turned to see a distraught blonde, you peered up at the small screen she was gawking at, you saw Tony racing in a car, then you saw a man with electricity tentacles also on the track. "Well that can't be good."

Natasha tended to a frantic Pepper, then she escorted you out of the venue. "Take her to the hotel," she instructed a shield agent, and you realized he must've already been on standby.

"Be careful Nat." She smirked. "I always am."

—

After working tirelessly to save Tony's image, she returned to the hotel at ten at night in desperate need of a shower, and some sleep. When she entered your shared space it was dark, and she made quiet work of tending to her needs before slipping in bed besides you.

"You're back.," you slurred, one eye flying open to confirm it was indeed the redhead., "I am."

"Did you get your dinner?"

Natasha smiled appreciatively, "I ate already, Pepper ordered us takeout, but thank you honey, I put it in the fridge for tomorrow."

You hummed, too tired to really respond, and Natasha watched you slowly fall back to sleep with a smile of pure adoration. A gasp left her lips only moments later though, her smile never dissipated, it morphed into a shocked one as you'd unconsciously scooted across the mattress and threw an arm around her waist.

"Good grief, you're going to kill me," she slid her arm underneath your neck, and allowed her other to lay over your body protectively., "And I'd die happy if you did," she whispered before allowing the unfamiliar comfort you brought her to help her fall asleep with ease.

A full nights rest was something incredibly foreign to her, but it consumed her tonight.

——

Natasha just left you downstairs, even with the last event ending in chaos she wanted you at this party with her, but first she had to assist Stark as was her job, "Do you know which watch you'd like to wear tonight Mr. Stark?"

"I'll give them a look," he sighed while fixing his shirt. "I should cancel the party, huh?"

"Probably," she turned to look at him, and brought him over a martini she'd prepared.

"Yeah, because it's uh—," he paused, and she promptly finished his thought, "Ill timed."

"Sends the wrong message."

"Inappropriate," Nat confirms with a sly smirk., "Is that dirty enough for you?"

He sipped it, then immediately deflected back to the watches, and you grimaced at the way she flirted so easily, a little reminder that this was all a ruse, and she wasn't yours to have.

Natasha sat besides him, not because she was interested in the man, but because she wanted to have a closer look at his declining state as collecting intel was part of her overall mission.

"It's hard to get a read on you, where are you from?" Tony asked while she applied some concealer to his marred up face. "Legal."

You snorted, and the redhead heard it, and could picture your eyes rolling right now.

"Can I ask you a question, hypothetically?" Natasha only stared at him, but he went for it anyways. "It's a bit odd, but if this was your last birthday party you were ever gonna have, how would you celebrate it?"

"I'd do whatever I wanted to do, with whoever I wanted to do it with," she followed her answer up with the clicking of her heels, but stopped as he asked a follow up question. "Like Zoe?"

"Precisely," she hoped you could hear the truth in her tone, but if you didn't she'd find a way to make it clear to you after this whole mission.

Before you could wipe away the hopeful smile Natasha was at your side, slipping your near empty glass from your hand to down it all. "Drinking on the job Natalie?" she smirked over your glass, "Have you met my boss?"

Natasha beamed as you giggled, because not only does the sound illicit a warmth within her, but she knew you understood that she meant Director Fury just as much as she did Tony.

With an elegance in her movements the redhead settled your glass down, and brought you onto the dance floor as a slow song played. There was a comfortability that you were shocked to find yourself feeling with her in such a short time frame. Natasha was always an enigma back at Shield headquarters, but now, out in the field she was easier to read.

Just like you she craved exhilaration, you found it out in the wilderness on off days, and in the salon mixing up products to transform people into whatever they wanted to become. Natasha found it on stealthy missions, where she was able to kick peoples asses, and make the world a safer place for all that inhabit it.

There was still an air of mystery to her, which you expect being so new to this undefined dynamic with her. You didn't expect all her walls to drop at once, but the fact that any have dropped tells you that she trusts you enough.

Before you could make an honest move, like kissing her as you dreamed, an actual wall fell.

Natasha quickly pulled your face to her chest, shielding you from the glass, and as soon as Rhodey said to get out, she was pulling you both to another room, and softly cupping your cheeks, "We need to get you out of here."

"I don't break that easily Nata-."

"Natalie!" you grimaced at the shrill voice of the angry blonde, and Nat softly groaned before turning to her cordially, "Miss Potts."

Before she could say much to Nat about her speculations, she was dragged away by Happy, and you were much the same by Natasha.

"I think I'm your bad luck charm," you mused from the passenger seat, and Natasha softly sighed as she parked the car, "No, I actually think you're much to the opposite Y/N."

The both of you entered the hotel, taking turns slipping out of your dresses, and when you sat down on the bed Natasha's eyes widened., "You're hurt?" you shrugged. "Occupational hazard," you turned to face her, heart melting at the show of genuine concern on her face, but the happy faded fast when her eyes hardened.

"No, you're the all around stylist, not an agent."

"I'm more than that," your voice was small, and she immediately regretted her choice of words. "I-I know, but you still had no business being out in the field, and it's my fault you were."

"I'm okay Nat, it's only a scratch, and if it were to have been more I have combat training."

The redhead left the room, and your shoulders deflated, but then she came back with a couple wine coolers, a soft smile and a first aid kit.

"Let's get you all patched up soldier."

—

Natasha frowned as you entered the Stark expo hand in hand, "I don't have a good feeling about this," she groaned, and you squeezed her hand. "Nat, we already committed to this whole fiancés facade, so until we're through with the mission here I'm coming along."

"I could've told Pepper you're sick."

"Who's sick?"

"I thought I had a cold, but turns out it's just allergies," you answered, and held your hand out for her to shake as you'd yet to introduce yourself yet even after seeing each other.

"Zoe right?," you nodded convincingly, "It's lovely to finally meet you, Natalie here speaks of you so fondly, I'm almost kinda jealous."

"Aww, baby, you talk to your boss about me?" Natasha's face tinted a light shade of pink at the painful, exposing moment, and you did all that you could to stifle your teasing laughter. "You're just a total sweetheart," you mused and followed your teasing words with a gentle kiss to the already blushing woman's cheek.

"Well, shall we get seated?" Natasha managed to pull it together enough to brush right passed the moment, and escort Pepper to her seat.

It doesn't take long after the exchange for shit to hit the fan, and after Natasha roughed up Tony's business rival the two of you were in a car with Happy on the way to save the day.

"When we arrive I need you to watch the perimeter, I'm gonna enter the facility and take down the target," Natasha instructs, and you go to glare at her but are shockingly met with her undressing, and then you felt the car swerving.

"Watch the road," you growled at the man in the drivers seat, then you lifted your suit jacket up to shield Natasha as she changed out of the black dress and into her body defining catsuit.

Natasha softly smiled, an intense wave of emotion filled her as you remained respectful, and didn't intentionally ogle her like she's used to, but a secret part of her wished for you to. However, she has no time to dwell on it as the car comes to a stop outside Hammer's base.

"Stay in the car," Nat barked at both of you.

"I'm not staying in the car."

"Dude. You should really listen to her," you mused, but in direct contrast you followed her into the building, and Happy trailed behind.

"Y/N what are you doing?" she asks in a huff while knocking two guys out at once. "You can't be in here, I don't want you getting hurt."

You rush passed her with an eye roll, taking out a man who was fast approaching with a punch to his throat, then another with your lipstick that she now knows is a high voltage taser.

"I was going to retouch my lips with that," she gasps with a lopsided smile directed at you.

"Good thing you didn't you little thief.," you tease back as you both pass the last remaining guy, and she just uses her pepper spray on him.

Natasha is quick to help Tony with the drones, then while they fight she shifts her attention over to you, "You trained with who exactly?"

"Hill."

Natasha nodded, "Makes sense then."

Her arms that were folded over her chest move to around your waist., "Thanks for the help," you hug her back, and she basically melts into you., "Anytime Nat, I'll do your hair, makeup, I'll dress you up, whatever you want, really."

"How about you undress me?” she teased, using a deep sultry tone on you, you shoved her away playfully, and she cackled while following you out of the room. "Y/L/N, come back!"

"Thank God you girls are okay," Happy shouts as the both of you approach unscathed, he himself in a state of disarray, and you scoff. “It's not us you should be worried about."

He glares at you, then shifts his attention to the redhead approaching from behind you. "Hey, Natalie, what you did here was impressive,” he gestures to the pile of bodies with a shy smile.

"Would you be interested in getting dinner?"

Natasha watched as your jaw and fists clenched in unison, and it inspired her to make a move. Her callous hand was gentle as it found yours, she unfurled your fingers, then slipped hers between yours. "No thanks, I'm spoken for."

A wide smile befell your face as she spoke, and in a swift switch of events it was you making a move, your hand dropped hers to grab her by the waist, and as you spun her to face you the other slid behind her neck. "Yeah, she is."

Happy cleared his throat before scurrying off, the tension in the room thick at the glare you sent his way right before you pulled Natasha into you for a heady kiss. A soft hmph left you when she spun you around and into a wall.

Natasha pulled away from you at the sound of another's pained groan, she smirked at the sight of you so flustered; blissfully unaware, and as beautiful as the first time she saw you.

"We should get out of here krasivaya," Nat grabbed your hand again, squeezing it softly to better get your attention. "Lead the way Nat.," you smiled dreamily, she pulled you along, and guided you into the back of an awaiting car.

—

Fury shook your hand, then sent you off with a wink that you failed to understand as you were finally moving to leave Shields headquarters.

"Wait!” Natasha took off after you, and her hand settled on your shoulder. "Would you like to get coffee with me sometime?” you smiled at the redhead as you turned to face her properly, she was uncharacteristically nervous, and that made you feel extra confident. "I just made out with you over many unconscious men, and now you're nervous to talk to me—how adorable."

Natasha's mouth opened, but then it closed as she tried to remember how to formulate actual words. "I-I'm not adorable Y/N/N, you are."

"You're even more adorable now that you've said that," you snickered, then reached out to softly move a stray hair behind her ear. "I'd love to get coffee with you Natasha, feel free to pick me up tomorrow morning before work."

"I don't have your address.," she called out as you already started walking off again, and you didn't even turn around as you shouted., "We both know that's not true Agent Romanoff."

2012

You weren't a super spy yourself, but you didn't need to be to know the loud ding of your locked doors opening was because of a certain beauty.

"Natasha, I can get my own breakfast you know," you set the broom stick against the counter, and met her at the desk in your office. "Yeah, you can, but you shouldn't have to."

You shook your head with a fond smile, then accepted the warm beverage and croissant. "Thank you baby," you murmured over a bite of the buttery goodness, then you approached the pouting redhead as she reached for you.

"Are you excited to open the shop tomorrow detka?" she quickly pulled you into her warm embrace, and you nuzzled into her, knowing that she craved these reassuring affections. "Mostly," you admitted. "I'm kinda nervous."

"Why would you be nervous?"

"What if I open my doors and the sky falls?"

"Y/N, what's really going on, hm?" she softly swayed you, and placed a kiss to your forehead.

"What if I am not good enough to succeed?"

"Detka, now that's just ridiculous," your lover sighs softly as she works to pull you closer.

"You're plenty good enough, there's nobody else I'd ever let touch my hair," she confessed, "Nick knew that by the way, when he played matchmaker, and I went along of course because you were the woman of my dreams, and how else would I have gotten that close."

"Nat," she cut you off with a dizzying kiss, it was so intense that she was able to walk you back into your chair. "I'm dead serious detka."

"You're being honest?" she nodded, and you smiled widely. "I can't believe I was your first."

Natasha smirked, her dimple prominent as she absorbed your words, there were areas of truth to them, yes, you were her first hair stylist, but moreover, you were her first, and only love.

"Up until that mission I'd handled all of my own disguises, and yes, even as a level 6 agent I was able to work my own makeup brushes."

Your belly laughter filled the room, and your lover smiled as soon as it left you, if she were to only be made to hear your joy for the rest of her life she knows she'd die a happy woman.

"Hey, I have an idea," Natasha nudged your shoulder, then her hand gripped yours to pull you up to your feet without any explanation. Natasha settled herself down in one of your leather chairs with a lopsided grin as she met your gaze through the mirror and ran a hand through her unruly maine, "Have a ball."

It honestly surprised you how willing she was to be your guinea pig, her appearance really did mean a lot to her, but she seemingly trusted you enough to give you free reign with it.

Her current hair was a little passed shoulder length, and quite frankly overdue for a trim, but what you had in mind went beyond that.

Natasha followed your every instruction, and she did so happily, her sighs of gratitude proof that the way you scratched at her scalp as you washed and conditioned her hair was pleasing.

After you settled her down in the salon chair you practiced your customer service on her, "Ma'am, would you," she cut you off with a hand to the face. "Ma'am? Detka please..."

"Oh, my apologies, Miss picture perfect image of youth, would you care for a refreshment?"

Natasha smirked, "Much better, yes please."

Natasha graciously accepted the can of soda by pulling you in for an appreciative kiss, "Now don't you be letting the customers do that too."

You gasped, "Shit baby, do you think I should take off my 'Please kiss your stylist' apron?" She looked up at you unamused, her eyes were briefly casted down at your apron to ensure you were joking, and when she discovered you were she settled into the chair. "Chop, chop."

A roll of your eyes followed her play on words, you complied of course, but to make it more fun you spun her to face away from the mirror.

After you did the sizable chop you began to add layers to give it more volume, then you used your specialty scissors to give the ends texture. It took you about an hour to get her hair where you wanted, and from the back it looked great.

A long breath still left you when your hands no longer had something to manipulate, you were honestly nervous because it was far shorter than when she had walked in. Natasha had the fortune of being so beautiful that nothing could change that, but an outward opinion on her appearance didn't matter here, only hers did.

"Detka, you're making me nervous," she joked, and after a tense moment of silence she sighed, "I'm going to love it, I already feel tons lighter."

When you still refrained from spinning her around she stood from her seat, leaving you unable to face her reaction as she turned around. You still managed to do it though as you shut your eyes tightly to avoid the potential of a disappointed, and likely frowning Nat.

"It's perfect," she gasped, her hands were gentle as they moved you over a smidge so that she could see better. "Honey, open your eyes, and look at the smoke show that is on display," she shook your body like it was a limp noodle by her grip on your shoulders to emphasize the joy you should feel, and it actually paid off.

"Wow," you were genuinely elated as you opened your eyes, what you envisioned was so beautifully brought to life right before you. You didn't hesitate to run your hand through the much shorter red locks, appreciating the way that her natural wave showed through more prominently at this length. "You're beautiful."

Natasha surged forward, capturing your lips with hers, something she always did when she felt overwhelmed by you complimenting her. There was just something different about the way you said beautiful, your tone was always soft, and your eyes were even softer, as if you were seeing her for more than her physicality.

Which you were...

Just as you moved to deepen the affection, your tongue slowly sliding over hers, you were rudely interrupted by Natasha's obnoxious pager, and corresponding ringing of her cell. When combined that always meant she had to go, because Fury needed her for a mission.

"Absolutely not," she groaned, "What is it?"

"Agent Romanoff, always such a pleasure."

"Nick, I am unavailable, Y/N's opening day is tomorrow, can't you send someone else?"

"Unfortunately not Romanoff, it's connected to your mission in limbo, and if you don't seize the moment now you'll likely miss it entirely."

Natasha hung up on the director, it was her angered way of relenting on her stance, even if it was actually breaking her heart to say it.

"It's okay Natasha, it's just a salon opening."

"No, don't do that," she turned to face you, cupping your cheeks in her calloused hands. "You're so special Y/N/N, and the way you transform looks is amazing, it's life changing."

"Yeah, and the way you save the world is too," you leaned in to kiss her again, and the both of you made sure to savor the fleeting moment.

"I'll be back in time for a celebratory dinner."

"I'll be looking forward to it," you pressed your lips to hers for a chaste kiss. "Give them hell."

Natasha smirked against you, "I always do."

——

The world was a crazy place really, the general populous moves around in a state of blissful ignorance while atrocities happen under their noses. Rumors fly, but without any evidence they act as if the evil only exists in the stories. It's only in moments like now that they are able to get a glimpse through the cracks, and see that fables of other worlds are based in reality. 

Natasha stared up at the gigantic black hole in the sky in a disgusted sort of awe, it was a sight to marvel at—sure, but she wonders more how she got here in a matter of twenty four hours.

Yesterday morning she was being pampered by you, and by that evening she was tied to a chair with men who actually thought they had the upper hand on her, the notorious Black Widow.

Then after a panicked call from Coulson over Clint's well being she was exchanging her idiot Russian henchmen out for a ship full of equally as idiotic American men, with an aloof God in tow who couldn't set their egos aside long enough to see the bigger picture until it had to be blown up in front of their once smug faces.

After fighting her best friend, being chased by the monstrosity that is The Hulk, and losing Coulson, a dear friend of the redheads, she was already beyond exhausted, but rest was nary an option with aliens flying through a portal.

If they didn't pull it together soon the entire state of New York would likely meet the same fate as many other peculiar cities in the past.

Natasha wouldn't be letting that happen though, no matter what she would never let anything happen to you. Which is why she was first to offer finding out how to close the portal, effectively neutralizing the core threat here.

"Natasha, you seem distracted," the captain observed, and Natasha sighed in frustration. "My girlfriend," she paused as the man out of time dropped his shield out of shock. "Go on."

"Today was the day her shop was supposed to open, and I'm fucking terrified that she was in it as the fight broke out," she struggled to hold back her tears, "She didn't answer her phone, and I had no time to check on her." At the odd show of emotions from the reclusive spy Steve realized he needed to offer his support here.

"Listen, you make it to the top as planned, and I promise to go collect," he paused, and she smiled at just the thought of you. "Y/N."

"Please, don't let anything happen to her." he nodded, and with that she was off in the sky, chasing down the alien scum while the super soldier sprinted towards your quaint shop.

The bell rung out, and you jumped onto the intruder's back in an instant, ready to fight, but then you saw the patriotic get up, and knew he was not the enemy in this current predicament.

"Y/N?"

You slowly fell from his back, then rounded the man to face him. "Depends, what's it to you?"

"Natasha sent me after you," he relayed, and you rolled your eyes. "That woman, I swear, it's like she forgets I'm trained for this shit."

"You're an agent?" you shrugged. "Something more in between trained agent and stylist."

"I saw her tough resolve crumbling only a few minutes ago," he admits. "I honestly haven't known her more than a few hours, but she doesn't strike me as the type to break easily."

"She isn't," you whisper, then meet the man with a frown. "Take me to safety I guess."

He escorts you out, and it's when an alien runs by with its razor sharp talons ready to strike that he realizes you were safer indoors. "Uh," he turns you back around, then puts you in your office, using your bookshelf he blocks the window, then from outside your door he moves another shelf full of products in front of it.

"We'll come collect you shortly, Natasha is currently working on closing the blackhole."

"Okay!" you shout back amusedly, then you pull up Scandal on your laptop, and hope Nat forgives you for watching the next episode without her on account of emotional distress.

——

Natasha took the elevator down Stark's ginormous tower, then she ran to your shop without taking a moment to catch her breath after she had successfully closed the portal. Once she arrived she barged through the doors only to groan at her newfound obstacle.

"Are you watching Scandal without me?" she grunted through the blocked door as she heard the familiar start up tune while she was trying to use her remaining strength to move the hefty, fully stocked set of shelves. Once she's successful she barges in with a deep scowl.

"The sky was falling..." you shut your laptop guiltily, then slowly made your away around your desk to pull the dirtied woman into you.

"Yeah, it certainly was," she melted into you, honestly she was too tired to further scold you over something so mundane, especially after she already spent the entire day bickering with egotistical men, then as if it was a cherry atop of a shit sundae, she had to fight ugly aliens.

"Sit down love, I'm gonna clean you up."

"Detka," you hummed while maneuvering around the shop to collect your hair products and first aid kit. "Would you like to meet the team today? We're going to get Shawarma."

"Who's really left to meet?" you teased, and she lowered her voice to imitate the men, "Bruce, the Hulk, and Thor, the God of Thunder."

"I'd love to go with you Nat, thank you," you lightly kissed her split lips. "Just maybe after I rinse your hair and disinfect these cuts."

"Fair enough."

—

Natasha was fatigued beyond recognition, so you had her hop onto your back, she protested softly, but the second her feet left the ground you felt her sigh against your back. "Comfy?"

The redhead nodded, then to further prove your suspicions she yawned, "It's just up the street detka, they're probably already eating."

Natasha rested as best she could on your trek to the family owned restaurant that managed to remain unscathed unlike the neighboring stores surrounding it that laid in ruins. Once you got to the door though she dropped from your back, then like the gentlewoman she was she opened the door for you, and escorted you to the table where she took her rightful seat.

There wasn't another open for you since they weren't expecting a plus one, but that didn't matter much, because to make the message clear to the unknowing men gawking at the both of you, Nat pulled you into her lap and kissed you oh so tenderly. Steve blushed at the unfamiliar sight, Tony smirked, and Clint was expectedly unbothered as he stuffed his face.

Thor too seemed unbothered as he asked for someone to pass him the 'sauce that burns his tongue in ways he enjoys.' Bruce, the reserved one looked a bit taken aback, and almost hurt if you cared to look at him, but he shook off his unfair jealousy, then politely shook your hand.

"Lovely to see you again Zoe."

"Zoe?" Steve looked between the three of you, and you and your lover knowingly chuckled. "Tony, and everyone else I guess, this is Y/N, my girlfriend of a years time, and that's all I will be disclosing, so avert your eyes and eat."

Tony didn't care about her disinterest, he was too busy having an epiphany, and so he gasped obnoxiously loudly, "You two got together because of me? Wow! You're both welcome."

—

"Your little team of superheroes seemed," you paused to mull it over while ripping the sheet back, slipping under the cool fabric, and opening your arms wide for the cuddle fiend that was your girlfriend to crawl right on into.

"Insufferable? Pig headed? Inept besides Clint, and even then I might be being too nice?"

Natasha smiled against your neck as you tried to temper your exhausted cackle. "I was going to say potentially incorrigible, but for the sake of mankind's survival I hope they're not."

"Yeah, me too, because as of right now it's an overload on testosterone, and I think if history has taught us anything, it's that that's usually the greatest indicator for eventual disaster"

You snorted at your lovers tired grumbling, "Yeah, but with you there to lead, it'll be fine."

"I sure hope so," she yawned, "Goodnight Y/N, I love you." Your body tensed, but when you looked into her murky eyes you could see that the exhaustion brought it on, but it was the truth nonetheless. "I love you too Natasha."

A smile wider than the state of Texas spread against your skin, followed by a smattering of tired, soft kisses as she nuzzled further into you., "YA sobirayus' khranit' tebya vechno."

(I'm going to keep you forever.)

"What was that?"

"You're a dead woman walking for watching Scandal without me, you better sleep with one eye open," she nipped your skin teasingly and you slapped her butt warningly. "Mhm, sure..."

As you both slipped away into a state of bliss Natasha couldn't fathom how she got so lucky to have found you, and you pondered learning Russian, because you loved her enough to.

2014

"Natasha, sit still," you commanded, the ability to straighten her hair as she asked of you was almost nonexistent with the way she moved.

"I'm sorry detka, I-I," she paused, her thoughts were jumbled with all the anxiety she's been feeling since her mission with Steve yesterday.

"What is it?" you settled the straightener down, then spun her around to face you, and in the cutest way possible she reached for you then pulled you into her lap so she could bury her face in your chest. "My favorite stress balls."

"Natasha," you warned, but the bite in your tone was nonexistent, and you found yourself laughing lightly along with her. "What? The world is an absolute garbage fire, but when I'm here, with my face in your breasts it's alright."

"I can't stand you," you groaned, and she shifted to look at you with a quirked brow., "Good thing you're sitting down then, huh?"

"Natasha, I swear to God!" her face smushed back into your breasts, but this time she was blowing raspberries, and you were aghast, “You’re a fucking pervert,” she laughed wildly as the words left you in a near shriek.

“I’m a pervert for only you,“ she pecked your lips, a sigh of relief brushing across your face as she feels her anxieties melting away so easily when she’s touching you—you’re her peace.

The sound of her pager going off like crazy ruined the whole vibe, “What now? Was me commandeering an entire ship not enough?”

Natasha’s face fell though as she read the tiny script: ‘Fury’s been compromised—hurry.’

—

The drive to the hospital was fast, you held on to the handle tightly as she swerved between lanes. Even in her frenzied state she settled a hand over your thigh to offer comfort, and in the moment when she had nothing but time to think she curses herself for letting you come.

If someone is after Fury, and they see her in the hospital she’s going to be a follow up target, and by bringing you she’s made you one too.

With your hand in hers you both entered the hospital, Maria and Steve were there to greet you both, and as they brought you to a window you saw the elder man in a state of disarray. Then before any words could be muttered his heart monitor went haywire, then he flatlined.

Natasha cried into your shoulder for all of two seconds before she was pulling it together. Her jaw clenched at the thought of leaving you, but she had no choice, so she kissed the corner of your lips, “I have to go,” Natasha held her hand up when you tried to follow her, “I’m okay,” she tossed Maria the keys, then soon disappeared.

You went to chase your girlfriend down but Maria stopped you, “Come with me, Nat’s not going to stop until she has answers, and you’re not safe if you go home since you came here.”

“Oh,” you nodded, then followed her instead.

—

Natasha entered the facility you were being held at with a deep scowl on her face, it didn’t exactly melt away at the sight of you, but it definitely lessened when you embraced her. Maria’s hold on her was nonexistent now as you took over escorting her to a chair for the doctor. Her subtle wince caused you to let go, and you made quick work of her jacket so you could see what happened, and you gasped.

The doctors rushed you aside, then fixed her up remarkably fast, and once they moved you tried to lean in for a kiss, but Natasha evaded your affection with ease, it was so subtle the way she leaned her forehead to yours, but you still felt the sting of her rejecting affection. It terrified you to think that after everything you have overcome together that she’d retreat now.

“I’m okay detka, I’ve experienced worse,” she tried to play down the wound, her voice wasn’t much above a whisper as she tried to keep the moment specifically between the two of you, but she didn’t succeed because you were on your feet, and slamming a fist into Steve.

“How could you let this happen to her?” You glared at the man, but you could see the guilt on his face ran deeper than her being wounded, “Why do you look so guilty Steve? What is it?”

Natasha glared at the super soldier, she told him that what happened on the escalator was self preservation, and that she’d tell you, but he was about to blurt it out, and humiliate you.

“Natasha kissed me,” he squeaked, blue eyes widening as he saw the murderous redhead jump to her feet, “I-It was only—,” you shook your head, a sign that the man took as your disinterest in his blubbering explanations.

Instead you turned to look at Natasha, who was quick to soften her gaze as your eyes locked, a tense silence befell the room because no one knew what was about to happen. Natasha did though, she knew you were silently assessing, and when you smiled softly at her she relaxed.

“I’m sorry you had to do that my beloved,” you coo, then entered into her good arms embrace, “It must’ve been a hardship for you to kiss a man seeing as how you’re not into them.”

Maria smirked, but then upon seeing Fury’s expression she cleared her throat, and began to debrief the room about Hydra’s infiltration. You sat in Nat’s lap while they discussed the miracle of Fury’s survival, and you hardly paid attention, your eyes transfixed on Nat instead.

Which is why when Fury muttered, “Can't kill you if you're already dead. Besides, I wasn't sure who to trust.” You watched as Natasha’s eyes glazed over, and that had you seeing red.

“She took a bullet trying to avenge you, and you don’t know who you can trust?” You made your way over to the man, and slapped him across the face, and Nat tried to pull you away, “Detka, calm down.” But it was of no use.

“No? Absolutely not,” you brushed her off, then turned to point a finger at everyone present, “You all disgust me with how you treat her. Like Natasha is just an expendable asset, but she isn’t, she has a family to come home to and I’d appreciate it if she came back to us alive.”

The room was silent besides everyone’s varying breaths, yours being the loudest as you were feeling rather irate by the audacity in the room. Natasha took tentative steps, her hand turning you by your shoulder so she could look at you.

“I promise I’ll return to you tonight, and I’ll have Maria here take you back home so you’re comfy. She’ll stay with you until I get there,” you pouted, and she desperately wanted to kiss it away, but she simply refused to until her mouth was cleaned of Steve’s existence.

“What do you want for dinner?” Natasha laughed at your sweet question, “You pick.”

You nodded, then placed a kiss to her cheek before shifting to face the others, “Keep her safe, or I swear to God you will all regret it.”

—

Natasha entered your house in a stagger, her heart was nervous for a whole great deal of things, most importantly being you leaving.

“Welcome home Romanoff, I’ll be going.”

“Thanks Maria,” she squeezed the redhead’s shoulder, then yelled her goodbye to you.

This prompted you to race into the living room to see Natasha stood there in one piece, but her eyes spoke of a separate form of shattering. When she fell to her knees a second later you were right by her with no regard to your knees.

“Natasha, what is it?”

“Please don’t leave me,” she sobbed, “I can’t do this without you, I won’t survive—I won’t!”

“Hey, hey,” you settled on your butt then yanked her trembling form into you, “I’m not going anywhere, where is this coming from?”

“I had to air out all of Shield’s dirty laundry,” she started, her hand shaking as you clasped yours over it and you sent her a reassuring smile, “That included all the darkest parts about my past, once you see it you’ll leave.”

“Natasha, your past doesn’t define you, no one is free of skeletons in their closet, and yours were never yours to bare the reprimand for,” you cupped her cheek, and brought her gaze back to yours, “I know your heart Natasha, and whatever those files say doesn’t change that.”

“Matter of fact, they don’t matter, and I won’t even be reading them,” you announced, and her tears finally spilled over, “Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me Nat, you deserve to tell me whatever you want, when you’re ready, not when the world forces you to.”

“I love you Y/N,” she jolted up and caught your lips in a kiss, her mouth tasted of mint, and you smiled at the thought of her probably having brushed her teeth in some drug store just so she could kiss you when she got home.

“I love you too Natasha, you’re stuck with me.”

She smiled against your lips, “Really?” and when you nodded she smiled even wider.

“Marry me then,” she blurted the hopeful words against your lips, then she pulled back with pinched brows as she awaited an answer.

“Seriously?” she nodded, and watched how your eyes now filed with tears, “Of course.”

Natasha kissed you even harder this time, a symbolic sealing of the deal she reasoned.

“Is that borscht I smell?” you nodded with a breathless sigh to follow, and she smiled in pure adoration, “Might as well marry you now, my pretty little housewife in the making.”

“Do it,” you challenged, and she met that with a bruising kiss to which she instantly deepened, her silent promise that she’d be keeping you here until the ready borscht likely went cold.

2016

Natasha woke up next to you this morning, and for a few moments everything just felt right. Then she was called into work only to be met with a scraggly old man in a suit, who laid out a packet thicker than her arms all in the name of containing the Avengers. Tony's argument felt right, it seemed the only option that kept the team safe, but more importantly all together.

Steve didn't agree though, and in a few short hours he became a wanted man, alongside his old pal Bucky, his new pal Sam, her best friend Clint, a shrinking man she'd never met named Scott, and the rightfully terrified witch, Wanda.

Nothing felt right anymore, and as the lot of them fought against one another she knew it wasn't going to end well. Her plans to marry you this Fall would have to wait as she attacked TChalla, and allowed Steve and Bucky to flee.

In less than an hour she was back at the compound collecting her arsenal of weapons, and ignoring Tony's venomous words only spat to hurt her as she rushed off to be on the run.

This life wasn't new to her, being on the run was second nature for the reformed assassin, but now, at this stage of her life it was cruel. There was no easy way to tell you, the love of her life, that she had to leave, but as she raced up the stairs to your shared bedroom she found you sat on the edge of the bed in a fit of tears.

You knew...

"Malysh." you lunged into her open arms, sending the both of you tumbling into the carpeted floor where she held you very tightly. "It'll be okay, I promise, I'll find my way back."

"Back?," you croaked, head shaking rapidly as you refused to accept this., "I'm coming with."

"Not this time Agent.," you sobbed even harder as she cupped the back of your head while sitting you both back up so she could look into your eyes, even if the sight broke her in two., "Liho, and Tabby need you moya lyubov'."

"I need you," your voice cracked, and the tears she managed to keep at bay began to stain her cheeks at the dire situation at hand., "I know detka, I need you just as much as I do oxygen."

"Please, let me come with," you pleaded, hands clinging to her jacket in desperation, and you pulled her in for an equally as desperate kiss.

"This is going to test us," she panted after she managed to pull away from the liplock, her usual sparkling green eyes were dull as she looked into yours now. "But please, don't tell me that if I leave that you won't be here when I get back, because I promise you I'll be back."

"Be careful," you relent, and lean in to kiss her far more gently now, her hands that were sat on your hips gripped you tighter, she needed to feel you, because there was no telling when she would have an opportunity to do so again.

"I always am," she whispered, a soft smile pulling her at lips as she looked into your eyes. "My love for you is all the inspiration I need to make it back to you in one piece," she pecked your lips, then lifted both of you to stand.

"I love you Natasha Romanoff," she brought your entwined hands up to her lips where she pecked each knuckle until she reached your pitifully bare ring finger, where her soft lips lingered., "And I you, Y/N Romanoff."

The sound of sirens in the distance put a rush on your goodbye. "Until we meet again," you smiled sadly as she hopped onto her bike with two ill prepared duffles. "Until then my love."

2018

"Natasha, where are you going?" she peered over to Steve with a sad smile. "I'll be back, I just need to see someone first," and before anyone could protest she was leaving the room.

She was still on the run, so she had to be cautious about how she went about her route. Ross wouldn't have trouble getting her if she walked right into your establishment, and she would never put you in such a position. So she texted you from a burner phone instead, and that's how you found yourself in a quaint diner.

"Natasha, please tell me you didn't," your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as the now blonde approached you with a mischievous grin. "What, you don't like the new hair?"

"I-I," you were thrown, because of course you did, she could pull anything off, but you also knew her resources were limited, so this was likely a very cheap dye job and it made you sad for all the progress you made keeping her hair healthy over the years. "You're beautiful Nat."

"It'll grow back out my love, and then I'll leave it for only you to handle, I promise."

"So I can go with you on the run this time?"

Natasha shook her head, and pulled you in for a hug that nearly crippled her after so long without your body flush to hers. "I'd never let you do that, you're undeserving of such a life."

"All I want is you Natasha, I don't care." she smiled sadly, "I know, but it doesn't matter, because there's no more being on the run."

"Really?" she nodded with a bright smile. "After we win, I'll be back for good malysh."

"Good, I can't stand another two years Nat."

"You won't have to," she smiled as you leaned into her, and she unexpectedly sobbed as you pressed your lips to hers, "I missed you Y/N."

"I missed you too Natty.," you reached up to wipe away her tears, then pecked her lips once more knowing she had to go, "I'll be waiting."

—

They lost, half of everyone turned to dust, and you weren't answering your fucking phone.

You always answered your phone.

No matter what.

Natasha felt waves of pure panic, the contents of her stomach were emptied on the jet, and even though her limbs ached she ran to you.

She had to get to you, there was nothing else she needed more right now than your love.

The doors of your shop flew open, causing her to cough as clouds of dust swirled at the action.

"No...," She fell to her knees besides the chair, your phone laid shattered on the floor in a pile of dust and various hair clippings with an unsent message: "I don't feel good Natasha."

Natasha didn't feel good either, and she would never again if she had to live without you..

2023

“Hey Nat,” Steve greeted as he stepped into the meeting room to find her quietly sulking over a halved peanut butter sandwich. “You okay?”

“Your friend is fine,” she answered almost too quickly for the words to be true, and the older man sighed with the truth weighing on his mind. “Don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

“If I move on, who does this?”

“Maybe nobody, threats have been almost nonexistent Natasha, the oceans are more clear, the grass is real, and the sky is bluer.”

“If you think there’s a bright side to half of the population being dusted you’re honestly not the righteous man I thought you to be Steve.”

“I’ve become a realist in my old age Nat, you deserve to be happy, Y/N wouldn’t want this.”

“Don’t you ever bring her up to push your agenda Rogers,” she growls through gritted teeth, and the man yields upon seeing her eyes of fury paired with a clenched jaw and fists.

“There’s no moving on without her Steve. I’ll search until I’m old and grey for a way to get her back because she’s worth fighting for.”

Steve sighs, “I understand, I was just trying to help is all, I hate seeing you so down.”

“You can’t help me Steve, it seems no one can.”

Natasha slumped back in her chair, and just as her eyes went to close she got a notification from Friday that someone was at the gate.

“Hello?”

Natasha immediately turned to see that the man she knows as ‘Antman’ was stood outside, which made her jolt up because he was presumed dusted, and upon letting him in she realizes that she was l wrong, someone can help her, she just has to l pay the arrogant billionaire a visit and hope he’s down to help.

—

Tony was reluctant to help, but at the thought of Peter, his prodigy, he was in, and Natasha was elated at the promise of undoing the mess. Having you back in her arms was all she needs, and after a few days it’s looking promising.

Clint returned with a baseball glove, showing the mission would succeed as long as all parties did their part. For the most part that was true, but someone had to pay the ultimate price, and then some cosmic fluke, one that Tony himself predicted, occurred as a past Thanos emerged.

It was a gruesome battle, it seemed like the loss of Steve on Vormir was all for not, but then the fruits of their labors came to light as loads of portals opened and all those dusted emerged.

“Avengers Assemble!” Natasha aired out the war cry, a new wave of adrenaline fueling her aching body as she charged at the enemies with the knowledge that you were back to fight for.

—

Natasha sprinted from the battle field as soon as Thanos's army became nothing but dust, her legs were nearly out of commission, weighing as heavy as her heart did with the losses of the unforeseen battle, but she refused to stop until she had you, this time she knew she would.

All her friends were back, so you would be too.

Five years she'd been deprived of you, and she refused to go another minute, she promised you it wouldn't be two like before, but she never realized in doing so she sealed herself to a far more daunting, and lengthier fate.

Much like before the doors to your shop fly open, but this time you're there to look up at the sound of the familiar ding, and you don't have time to ask questions before the love of your life is sobbing loudly against your chest.

"You're here," you hear the pain in her words, to you it had only been an hour since you last felt her touch, but the sight of her changed look told you that it had to have been longer for her.

"I'm here," she gripped your shirt as you went to move, her inability to let you go actually broke your heart in two. "I'm not going anywhere love, just going to sit us down."

Natasha let you go rather briefly, allowing you to settle into the reclining lounge chair in your office, and she straddled you just as soon as your butt made contact with the plush fabric.

"You weren't waiting," she sobbed, fists now clutching your shirts collar while her hazy eyes met your soft pair. "We lost, so you were gone."

The words were enough for you to understand something magically mysterious took place, and that was good because the redhead wasn't able to elaborate, her body racking with more sobs as she reflects on her forced solitude.

With a gentle hand on the back of her head you guided her face into the crook of you neck, you felt as she took in a sharp, deep breath, and how her lip subsequently quivered right after. Her arms then forced their way between your back and the soft material of the recliner so that she could hold you impossibly closer, in direct response you copied her embracement.

After a half hour her sobs faded into hiccups, but your hand rubbing random shapes over her suit continued, even if she could barely feel it. The motion still brought her comfort, and that's all you could try to do here, there was no relating to her pain, you understood the forced solitude, but you can tell hers was far crueler.

"How long?" You started simple, but she still struggled to answer you, it hurt too much to verbalize her former reality. "F-five years."

"Oh my love," you brought her face out to look in her eyes, hands cupping her cheeks so softly as if she were made of glass. The red rimming of her eyes, and tinting of her nose broke your heart, knowing that she was likely in a state of perpetual disarray while you were gone hurt. "I'm so sorry I wasn't waiting," you kissed away the new tears as they fell. "I'm here now baby."

"I need to feel you, please, show me it's real," she pleaded, her hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt, so you sat forward to help her remove it, then you moved a hand to the front zipper of her suit, "Take it off, please!"

It'd been seven years since Natasha felt you like this, with your skin on hers it felt like a dream, like one she frequently had while on the run, but couldn’t bring herself to with you gone.

Natasha whimpered when she felt you shifting so you could set her on the chair, but she was quick to settle when she realized you were going to undress completely for her, her eyes were trained on you without ever wavering. When you slid your pants off, along with your underwear she was gasping in pure shock.

“Fuck, detka,” you smirked in amusement when catching her eyes curiously staring at the strap, “I told you baby, I’d be waiting for you.”

It clicked, and as it did she was pleading with you to give her all of you with lust burning behind her eyes, pupils darkened to the point that they seemed like a black hole ready to consume you whole, and that had you on her in no time at all, soft lips exploring her bareness.

"My sweet Natasha, you've been through so much," you acknowledge, lips pressing to scars you'd never seen before, and your heart ached. "I'm sorry you were alone for so long, but I'm here, and I'm going to take good care of you."

Natasha's entire body shivered as you ran the hard silicone through her folds, collecting her arousal so that you could enter her with ease.

“I know you want my cock baby, but please, can I taste you first?” she nodded vigorously, her hands quick to push you lower, and you snorted, “Thank you angel,” you took a deep breath in, feeling yourself salivating as you smelled her arousal, “Oh fuck, you smell heavenly, you’re still my sweet girl, right?”

“Mhm,” Natasha hummed softly, need too heavily clouding her mind to answer properly. Then she was too busy moaning as your tongue expertly swirled around her clit before it was prodding at her entrance in a teasing manner.

Mewls of pornographic proportions tumbled passed her lips as you worked her up to the edge, she hadn’t been turned on in actual years, so this was not going to be a long fuck.

You were just too good with that tongue of yours for her to hold back much of anything; her hips were frantic as they fucked her cunt into your mouth to help her get off faster; her walls fluttering around your thick pink muscle, leaving it without much wiggle room but you sure made it move; and those screams of hers were uncontainable as you sent her crashing head first into the most intense orgasm ever.

“Fuck, oh my god, please don’t ever stop!”

“I never plan to,” you murmured against her bundle of nerves causing her body to writhe as the pleasure only further coursed through her.

Natasha was panting like she’d just run a marathon, and quite honestly she’d done just about that to get to you from the intense battle. Regardless of her inability to breathe though she yanked you up and into her for a kiss that was nothing short of messy, and thrilling.

While your tongue explored her pliant mouth you reached down to line yourself up with her needy entrance, “Going to fuck you so good,” you pulled away from her lips to catch sight of her face as you thrusted completely into her.

Natasha didn’t disappoint you either, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she was so overwhelmed by your intrusion that she was choking on the air she’s gasped in, her mouth was agape but she was too dumbed to breathe.

“Breath for me baby,” you pulled out, just to shallowly thrust back in, teasing her back down to earth, “Please, I-I need you inside so bad.”

“I know you do baby,” you smiled down at her, then watched as she involuntarily bit back a moan when you refilled her to the brim, “None of that now, I want to hear how good you feel.”

With your arms now hooked underneath her thighs as your hands reached up to fondle her breasts your thrusts were hitting even deeper. Natasha was cursing lowly in Russian, a sure way to let you know she was going to cum any second now, and you knew just what to do.

Natasha loved the idea of being yours, and she loved it even more when it came with marks.

It was an earth shattering occurrence really, you kept your pace pleasurably slow, as you began to nibble over the skin of her jaw, one of your hands continued tweaking her nipples in dizzying oscillations, as the other ventured down to rub tentative circles against her enlarged clit, “You’re close, aren’t you baby?”

Natasha whimpered with her head thrown back into the pillow, her ability to answer was lost on her as your mouth suctioned against the sensitive expanse of her throat, leaving behind marks she would never dream of covering up.

“Let go baby, drench my cock,” you bit into her pulse point, and Natasha couldn’t refrain from screaming your name in a sequence of praises.

Everything about you made her lose every ounce of composure she’s ever been trained to keep. Your smiles melt her stoney heart, and yours giggles basically annihilated her chance at ever wanting to be an Avenger ever again.

All she wants now is to retire with you, and start a family, because you’re her endgame. Nothing else will ever matter more than you.

While buried deep inside her, here you hover over her with a warm smile, you just recked her but still you manage to lean down to whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she comes down.

“How are you feeling my love?”

Natasha smiled up at you with glistening eyes, “Like I can finally breathe again, I missed you tremendously detka,” her lip wobbled slightly as you whispered against her, “Let’s go home.”

—

Natasha happily took you home on her bike as soon as she calmed down from her high, the trek was short, but meaningful as she felt you clinging to her the entire way home, the tight embrace was healing her tattered soul with every second she was able to experience it.

The two of you shared a sweet kiss as soon as you got off the bike, your lover was reluctant to let up, but she had no choice as you swept her off her feet. Natasha squealed with laughter as she settled into your arms, she admired you fondly, heart fluttering with hope as you carry her over the threshold as if you’d finally wed.

“Welcome home my beloved,” you kissed her lovingly, then let her legs drop softly, while swiftly wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I should be saying that to you,” she whispers, and you can hear the sadness in her tone, so you just pull her even closer, and kiss her deeper. “We both deserved to say it Natty.”

“I love the hair Natty,” you twirled the end of her braid in your hand, admiring the growth and dual tone, while your other ran up and down her back in soothing strokes. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you continued to play with her hair, slowly but surely you unraveled the braid, and admired the way her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully and making you smile.

“You’re very beautiful,” you smiled wider as she blushed deeply, even in the darkness of your house you could see the red tinge of her cheeks, and how it steadily rose from her neck.

More than a decade of loving one another, and she still felt nervous whenever you spoke so tenderly to her. Treating her like a dainty flower instead of the venomous spider that hides in the petals, the one she herself feels a kinship with. You saw her for more than the world ever would. To you, she was just Natty.

“I was thinking of cutting it, but I made a promise to my favorite person, so I didn’t.”

“Oh Natty, my precious angel,” you pulled her face to yours, nuzzling your noses before you closed the minuscule gap, “You waited for me?”

The truth was right there for you to see, her eyes having returned to their natural green shone through with so much love, it was the purist kind, and you knew she meant it wholly. Nobody else would ever interest the redhead again, not when she has you as the blueprint.

“Of course I did, I’d have waited a lifetime.”

You smirked, “Yeah? I can just picture it now, grey roots, with a rich red that ombre’s to the blonde tips,” she slapped your arm, then played with you, “I’ll never go grey detka.”

“Maybe not with me here to dye your hair,” you teased while escorting your fiancée up to your bedroom so the both of you could shower.

Loud meows reverberated off the walls, and your heart cracked when you saw your not so little babies stretching on the mattress, “Oh my have you two grown,” you dropped to your knees and nuzzled your face with theirs.

Natasha stood in the bathroom doorway with a sad smile, she’d started the water already, and now she’s taken to watching you reacquainting with your felines. “They missed you just as much as I did detka, they meowed at the front door for a whole year before they gave up.”

“You never gave up,” you whispered, overcome with so many emotions as you stroke over a new to you patch of grey fur on Liho’s back.

“I never would’ve detka, you’re my world.”

“Time is so precious,” you choked out before rising to your feet, and meeting Natasha with a wobbling lip and tight embrace, “I don’t want to wait anymore Nat, I want to be your wife, move to Norway and start the rest of our lives.”

“Can Norway become Ohio?”

You quirked a brow, but nodded without any hesitation, “Wherever with you works for me.”

Natasha beamed at your words, “Perfect, we’ll leave tomorrow then, I have a house in our name, and someone special I want you to meet, and after you meet Yelena we’ll get married at the local courthouse with her as our witness.”

“Yelena?!”

“Yeah, I found her when I was on the run,” she smiled while pulling you under the hot stream, “But enough about all that, how about you give me a sneak preview of our wedding night?”

Natasha moaned when you pushed her against the marbled wall, “You’re going to regret that.”

——

13,049 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 🥰

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[alcestas-sloboda]

I see so many reflections today from different people: someone woke up from the explosions, some from a phone call, some woke up and saw hundreds of notifications from different telegram channels. It is still so unimaginably bizarre. I have no ability to put into words the feeling of your world falling apart and we didn’t even understand half of the danger that was surrounding us. We were so damn close to disaster with half of Europe believing that nothing good will come out of it.

Ukrainians didn’t care what Europeans thought though, I personally saw news pieces about "Russia will take control of Kyiv" a lot later, somewhere in May, when Ukrainian military took control over the north of the country. And I’m so eternally grateful to every Ukrainian who made sure that all this "experts" sat in those flashy studios red from guilt. I’m grateful for my life, I’m grateful for our Ukraine. She persist. She is still the love of our lives. She’s hurt and devastated but she lives despite all the attempts to destroy her. Same as us. Somehow still here.

Yet I feel more detached from the western world than ever and I’m so fucking jealous of you all. It’s not even about the rockets or shakheds - somewhere along the lines you accept the fact that you may die in any moment - it’s about normal things like your Twitter feed that doesn’t look like a necrology, military terms that don’t make any sense to you, your city that doesn’t stop everyday to mourn the dead, you don’t feel guilty for trying to live a normal life while your classmate, who wanted to be a director, posts stories from the trenches. All of that and more. I’m not even entitled to my emotions because there always will be someone who says that my country is not suffering enough. I no longer react to comments like this as emotionally as I’ve done before but it is still so bizarre to see stuff like that from people whose countries have always been the one to inflict suffering on others.

I may sound mean or sarcastic or whatever but there is so much negativity inside of us that was put there by people like I’ve mentioned above that it is going to be released from time to time. "Your country shouldn’t exist", "Only 9 thousand killed", "You all are nazis/racist/zionists/any of the -ist terms" - yet you should always react in a constructive way because the moment you let your emotions go, you are the worst person on the planet. But who am I kidding, some people here do believe that we are. There is a thousand bad people with sketchy patches in a 40-million country and suddenly "That’s why I no longer support Ukraine". Well, honey, that means you never did. Because Syrian flags were quickly replaced with Ukrainian ones and just as quickly with Palestinian. It’s not about the "Support the oppressed", it’s "Anything to not feel guilty" because then you’ll find the reason to hate Palestinians, just as you did with us. If only you cared about the problematic shit happening in you country as much as you care about our political and social life.

But there are people who still are there for us. Countries that are still here. We may not say it as often but we are thankful. So very thankful for everything you’ve done and are doing for us. Thank you for hearing us and uplifting our voices.

Recently one of the most beautiful people here have lost her life defending me and you. She was always in my notes, always making sure that we didn’t feel uncomfortable even if she of all the people had all the right to be upfront about her thoughts and feelings. I don’t think I will ever get rid of the feeling of guilt. She was there while I wasn’t. She said to mourn her through anger. Anger towards the oppressor. Anger that should be directed into something useful: donations, sharing info, contacting your MPs and so on.

The soldier‘s death is not something out of ordinary during the war, it’s not considered a war crime but what if half of the army are civilians? Volunteers who left their homes to protect them. What if the soldier was a teacher, a poet, an actor, an IT-specialist, a scientist, what then? Isn’t it a tragedy? My country is loosing yet another generation of beautiful talented people and it makes my view of the future even darker.

But what can I say? I’m still here. My country still stands. Ukrainian air defence is doing everything possible and impossible to protect the lives of the civilians. Ukrainian military is still the only thing keeping us all alive. Heroes, titans, gods. Glory to them. Eternal glory to those who lost their lives defending Ukraine.

To Ukrainians: якось буде, прорвемся.

#reflection I guess

[marshmellowrio]

Flight of the Night | Chapter 4

A/N: A bigger one, this scene goes on forever, ughh. This hasn't been proofread, like every other chapter I have posted (oops?).

Word count: 3.5K

I watch as Feyre addresses Azriel, “How did you meet?” Azriel turns to look at Cassian, I follow his gaze. Cassian is a way better storyteller than Azriel, that’s fact.

“We all hated each other at first.” A grin ghosts over his lips as he starts, his eyes flickering between the four of us, Illyrians. “We are bastards, you know. Az and I. The Illyrians… We love our people, and our traditions, but they dwell in clans and camps deep in the mountains of the North, and do not like outsiders. Especially High Fae who try to tell them what to do. But they’re just as obsessed with lineage, and have their own princes and lords among them.” He holds my gaze before continuing, pointing a thumb in Azriel’s direction. “Az, was the bastard of one of the local lords. And if you think the bastard son of a lord is hated, then you can’t imagine how hated the bastard is of a war-camp laundress and a warrior she couldn’t or wouldn’t remember.” I see the casual shrug of his shoulders for what it is, a way to dampen the vicious, ancient anger raging through his veins at the thought of his mother. “Az’s father sent him to our camp for training once he and his charming wife realized he was a shadowsinger.”

“Like the daemati,” Rhys says to Feyre, “shadowsingers are rare—coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things other can’t.”

Something I have been wary of for centuries. Being secretive around Azriel was a feat not easily accomplished.

Cassian continues, “The camp lord practically shit himself with excitement the day Az was dumped in our camp. But me… once my mother weaned me and I was able to walk, they flew me to a distant camp, and chucked me into the mud to see if I would live or die.”

“They would have been smarter throwing you off a cliff,” Mor snorts.

“Oh, definitely,” Cassian says, his grin sharpening. “Especially because when I was old and strong enough to go back to the camp I’d been born in, I learned those pricks worked my mother until she died.”

A silence falls, simmering anger hanging like a cloud in the air.

“The Illyrians,” Rhys cuts in smoothly, “are unparalleled warriors, and are rich with stories and traditions. But they are also brutal and backward, particularly in regard to how they treat their females.”

Azriel’s vacant eyes lock on mine, my face schooled in a stone-cold expression.

“They’re barbarians,” Amren says and neither of the males object.

I keep silent as Mor nods. “They cripple their females so they can keep them for breeding more flawless warriors.”

Rhys cringes. “My mother was low-born, and worked as a seamstress in one of their many mountain war-camps. When females come of age in the camps—when they have their first bleeding—their wings are… clipped. Just a small incision in the right place, left to improperly heal, can cripple you forever.” I tell myself to keep breathing, keeping the memories at bay and listen to the story. A story I’ve heard countless times, but never becomes easier. “And my mother—she was gentle and wild and loved to fly. So she did everything in her power to keep herself from maturing. She starved herself, gathered illegal herbs—anything to halt the natural course of her body. She turned eighteen and hadn’t yet bled, to the mortification of her parents. But her bleeding finally arrived and all it took was for her to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, before a male scented it on her and told the camp’s lord. She tried to flee—took right to the skies. But she was young, and the warriors were faster, and they dragged her back. They were about to tie her to the posts in the center of camp when my father winnowed in for a meeting with the camp’s lord about readying for the War. He saw my mother trashing and fighting like a wildcat, and… The mating bond between them clicked into place. One look at her, and he knew what she was. He misted the guards holding her.”

“Misted?” Confusion laces her voice. As Cassian chuckles sharply.

Rhys floats a lemon wedge into the air and flicks his finger, turning it into citrus-scented mist. I lean forward to catch the look on Feyre’s face, she takes misting entire beings better than I did the first time. She hasn’t seen him do it yet, but the insinuation of it, was enough to make me still when I realised the extent of Rhys’s powers.

“Through the blood-rain,” Rhys goes on, “my mother looked at him. And the bond fell into place for her. My father took her back to the Night Court that evening and made her his bride. She loved her people, and missed them, but never forgot what they had tried to do to her—what they did to the females among them. She tried for decades to get my father to ban it, but the War was coming, and he wouldn’t risk isolating the Illyrians when he needed them to lead his armies. And to die for him.”

“A real prize, your father,” Mor grumbles. I cast my head down, he never did me wrong. But his methods could be…harsh.

“At least he liked you,” Rhys counters. “my father and mother, despite being mates, were wrong for each other.” I grimace, I sometimes wonder how often a mating bond is set between two beings while they’re not right for each other. “My father was cold and calculating, and could be vicious, as he had been trained to be since birth. My mother was soft and fiery and beloved by everyone she met. She hated him after a time—but never stopped being grateful that he had saved her wings, that he allowed her to fly whenever and wherever she wished. And when I was born, and could summon the Illyrian wings as I pleased… She wanted me to know her people’s culture.”

“She wanted to keep you out of your father’s claws,” Mor says, swirling her wine. Azriel finally looks away from me and I let loose a breath, his memories finally clearing. I have no doubt I was involved in that memory from the way he had stared for the past few minutes.

“That, too,” Rhys adds drily. “When I turned eight, my mother brought me to one of the Illyrian war-camps. To be trained, as all Illyrian males were trained. And like all Illyrian mothers, she shoved me toward the sparring ring on the first day, and walked away without looking back.”

“She abandoned you?” I understand Feyre’s deduction but it still has me narrowing my eyes.

“No—never,” Rhys says, with as much ferocity as I felt for his mother’s memory. “She was staying at the camp as well. But it is considered an embarrassment for a mother to coddle her son when he goes to train.”

Cassian laughs, catching the look on Feyre’s face. “Backward, like he said.”

“I was scared out of my mind,” Rhys admits. “I’d been learning to wield my powers, but Illyrian magic was a mere fraction of it. And it’s rare amongst them—usually possessed only by the most powerful, pure-bred warriors.” His eyes flit to me and I give him a lopsided grin. “I tried to use a Siphon during those years. And shattered about a dozen before I realized it wasn’t compatible—the stones couldn’t hold it. My power flows and is honed in other ways.”

“So difficult, being such a powerful High Lord,” Mor teases.

Rhys rolls his eyes. “The camp-lord banned me from using my magic for all our sakes. But I had no idea how to fight when I set foot into that training ring that day. The other boys in my age group knew it, too. Especially one in particular, who took a look at me, and beat me into a bloody mess.”

“You were so clean,” Cassian says, shaking his head. “The pretty half-breed son of the High Lord—how fancy you were in your new training clothes.” I snort, I can totally imagine young Cassian thinking like that.

“Cassian,” Azriel’s dark voice cuts in, “resorted to getting new clothes over the years by challenging other boys to fights, with the prize being the clothes off their backs.” The flatness in his voice revealed how much he cared for the Illyrian ways.

Cassian chuckles, he had a completely different experience, just as horrifying, but different. “I’d beaten every other boy in our age group twice over already, but then Rhys arrived, in his clean clothes, and he smelled… different. Like a true opponent. So I attacked. We both got three lashings apiece for the fight.”

From my side of the table, I see Feyre flinch.

“They do worse, girl,” Amren cuts in, “in those camps. Three lashings is practically an encouragement to fight again. When they do something truly bad, bones are broken. Repeatedly. Over weeks.”

“Your mother willingly sent you into that?” Feyre asks with a soft voice. She has a lot to learn about Illyrians and their customs, I think to myself.

“My mother didn’t want me to rely on my power,” Rhys says. “She knew from the moment she conceived me that I’d be hunted my entire life. Where one strength failed, she wanted others to save me. My education was another weapon—which was why she went with me; to tutor me after lessons were done for the day. And when she took me home that first night to our new house at the edge of the camp, she made me read by the window. It was there that I saw Cassian trudging through the mud—toward the few ramshackle tents outside of the camp. I asked her where he was going, and she told me that bastards are given nothing: they find their own shelter, own food. If they survive and get picked to be in a war-band, they’ll be bottom-ranking forever, but receive their own tents and supplies. But until then, he’d stay in the cold.”

“Those mountains,” Azriel adds, his hard gaze locking on mine again, “offer some of the harshest conditions you can imagine.” I know he still feels guilty about what happened to me, but I only duck my head not being able to bear his loaded gaze.

“After my lessons,” Rhys ignores the exchanged looks, “my mother cleaned my lashings, and as she did, I realized for the first time what it was to be warm, and safe, and cared for. And it didn’t sit well.”

“Apparently not,” Cassian takes over. “Because in the dead of night, that little prick woke me up in my piss-poor tent and told me to keep my mouth shut and come with him. And maybe the cold made me stupid, but I did. His mother was livid. But I’ll never forget the look on her beautiful face when she saw me and said, ‘There is a bathtub with hot running water. Get in it or you can go back into the cold.’ Being a smart lad, I obeyed. When I got out, she had clean nightclothes and ordered me into bed.” She had done some good for all of us. “I’d spent my life sleeping on the ground—and when I balked, she said she understood because she had felt the same once, and that it would feel as if I was being swallowed up, but the bed was mine for as long as I wanted it.”

“And you were friends after that?”

“No—Cauldron no,” Rhys says. “We hated each other, and only behaved because if one of us got into trouble or provoked the other, then neither of us ate that night. My mother started tutoring Cassian, but it wasn’t until Azriel arrived a year later that we decided to be allies.”

Cassian’s grin stretches as he reaches around Amren to clap Azriel on his shoulder. A sigh falls from the shadowsinger’s lips and I smile fondly at the two of them. “A new bastard in the camp—and an untrained shadowsinger to boot. Not to mention he couldn’t even fly thanks to—”

I clear my throat interrupting him as Mor lazily cuts in, “Stay on track, Cassian.” He looks at the both of us, the apologize clear in his eyes, but he shrugged feigning indifference to Feyre. Mor kept her eyes on Cass as I shifted mine to Azriel, noting the tense shoulders and faraway look in his eyes.

“Rhys and I made his life a living hell, shadowsinger or no. But Rhys’s mother had known Az’s mother, and took him in. As we grew older, and the other males around us did, too, we realized everyone else hated us enough that we had better odds of survival sticking together.” Cassian finishes their story and I turn to Feyre.

“Do you have any gifts? Like—them?” She jerks her chin to Azriel and Rhys.

“A volatile temper doesn’t count,” Mor says and I grin at her, sometimes I wonder if we spent too much time together. Or if it’s Cassian that’s so predictable.

“No. I don’t—not beyond a heaping pile of the killing power. Bastard-born nobody, through and through.” I lean forward at the same time as Rhys, but Cassian continues, “Even so, the other males knew that we were different. And not because we were two bastards and a half-breed. We were stronger, faster—like the Cauldron knew we’d been set apart and wanted us to find each other. Rhys’s mother saw it, too. Especially as we reached the age of maturity, and all we wanted to do was fuck and fight.” I roll my eyes at that.

“Males are horrible creatures, aren’t they?” Amren says.

“Repulsive,” Mor clicks her tongue and I laugh softly.

Cassian only shrugs. “Rhys’s power grew every day—and everyone, even the camp-lords, knew he could mist everyone if he felt like it. And the two of us… we weren’t far behind.” He taps his Siphon with a finger. “A bastard Illyrian had never received one of these. Ever. For Az and me to both be appointed them, albeit begrudgingly, had every warrior in every camp across those mountains sizing us up. Only pure-blood pricks get Siphons—born and bred for the killing power. It still keeps them up at night, puzzling over where the hell we got it from.”

I feel Feyre’s eyes slide to me, probably remembering I am pure-blooded Illyrian. Cassian notes her gazing as well and confirms her suspicions. “ This fucking priss of a lady, as Rhys said, is the only pure-blooded Illyrian out of the four of us.”

“Shouldn’t you let her tell her own story?” I raise an eyebrow at Azriel’s low voice intercepting.

“If you are wondering,” I turn to Feyre properly. “I am not one of those, born and bred for that killing power.”

“You were bred for it.” Cassian intercepts, pointing out the fault in my statement.

I hum lowly, “While that may be true, sadly, for my parents anyway, I was born female. Not the son they wanted. My father is a camp-lord,” I see Feyre mentally note the present tense. “Although I was bred to kill, he wouldn’t allow me to train. He’s very traditional in that sense.”

Feyre’s gaze moves to my wings, trying to see if I bear any clipping marks, not that she’d know what to look for. Her scrutiny makes me tuck them tighter against me, straining the muscles as usual. “I haven’t been clipped.” Her gaze snaps up again to meet mine, my face void of emotion. ‘Rhys’s mother helped me in that matter, got me the illegal herbs she used herself when she was younger, stalling my cylcle. She helped me, along with these three, get away when my first bleeding came.”

“You got away.” It’s not a question. I frown, it doesn’t feel like that.

Cassian says, “Oh, she got away, alright.” Amren shoves his broad shoulder and I’m thankful for her respect for me.

“Something like that.” I respond to Feyre. Rhys and Azriel flinch in unison, I might’ve never actually talked about it, but they know.

Feyre furrows her brows, not able to hide her curiosity as to what went down all those years ago.

I don’t answer her questioning gaze, opting to stare at Rhys instead, I do not want to get into that with her on her first day with us. No matter how open Cassian is with her.

Azriel breaks the silence, taking over another part of the story. “Over a decade later, the War came. And Rhys’s father visited our camp to see how his son had fared after twenty years.”

“My father,” Rhys says, swirling his wine, “saw that his son had not only started to rival him for power, but had allied himself with perhaps the two deadliest Illyrians in history. He got it into his head that if we were given a legion in the War, we might very well turn it against him when we returned.”

Cassian snickers. “So the prick separated us. He gave Rhys command of a legion of Illyrians who hated him for being a half-breed, and threw me into a different legion to be a common foot soldier, even when my power outranked any of the war-leaders. Az, he kept for himself as his personal shadowsinger—mostly for spying and his dirty work. Turns out he already had Lyss in his tight quarters so she didn’t pose a threat to him. We only saw each other on battlefields for the seven years the War raged. They’d send around casualty lists among the Illyrians, and I read each one, wondering if I’d see their names on it. But then Rhys was captured—”

“That is a story for another time,” Rhys says sharply, making me lift my brows. We all had our boundaries in sharing past memories. Cass might be the most open one but that doesn’t mean he’ll tell her everything, there are some things even he wouldn’t tell her upon first meeting. “Once I became High Lord, I appointed these five to my Inner Circle, and told the rest of my father’s old court that if they had a problem with my friends, they could leave. They all did. Turns out, having a half-breed High Lord was made worse by his appointment of three females and two Illyrian bastards.”

“What—what happened to them , then?”

Rhys shrugs. “The nobility of the Night Court fall into three categories: those who hated me enough that when Amarantha took over, they joined her court and later found themselves dead; those who hated me enough to try to overthrow me and faced the consequences; and those who hated me, but not enough to be stupid and have since tolerated a half-breed’s rule, especially when it so rarely interferes with their miserable lives.”

“Are they—are they the ones who live beneath the mountain?” Feyre asks.

“In the Hewn City, yes. I gave it to them, for not being fools. They’re happy to stay there, rarely leaving, ruling themselves and being as wicked as they please, for all eternity.”

“The Court of Nightmares,” Mor says as all are faces grow tight, thinking about that horrid place.

“Ans what is this court?” Feyre gestures to all of us, and the darkness clears.

It was Cassian, who answers with bright eyes, “The Court of Dreams.”

Feyre contemplates for a moment. “And you?” She says, and I know it’s directed to us females.

Amren merely says, “Rhys offered to make me his Second. No one had ever asked me before, so I said yes, to see what it might be like. I found I enjoyed it.” Always a person of little words.

Mor leans back in her seat and I focus on her. “I was a dreamer born into the Court of Nightmares,” Mor says, twisting a curl around a finger. “So I got out.” I almost scoff at the simplicity of that statement. Her escape from the Hewn City was as simple as mine from the Illyrian camp.

I take a breath, “My father was camp-lord when those three were in the camp. Cassian was a nuisance, he followed me around everywhere to annoy my father. Even as a five-year-old he knew how to get on someone’s nerves.”

Cassian’s grin only reveals truth as he takes over. “And when Rhys and Az came to the camp, they joined in.” I purse my lips at his statement. “But she had fire, handed our asses to us, multiple times. Her father might’ve not let her train, that didn’t mean she didn’t find a way to do so anyway. Slowly, the annoyance turned into acceptance that we weren’t going to leave her alone as long as it meant pissing off her father.”

“He still seethes whenever we join her in the camp.” Rhys adds.

I smirk, “He still seethes because I outrank him now.” I hold Feyre’s gaze and see she knows there’s more to the story than what we’re telling, so I give her another crumble. “I am Cassian’s Second, Colonel of the Illyrian armies.”

A/N: Let me know what you thought! Maybe any theories on how this story is going to progress? Obviously this is a romance fanfic (I'm sorry if you didn't realise that already), but I wanted to give my character some depth and not just have her exist because of her love interest. Do keep in mind this is a slow-slow-burn. It will be some time before we will be happy go lucky, not to say that there won't be any tension. Because there will be, a lot of it. If you want to be added to the taglist, please leave a comment saying so!

Taglist: @inloveallthetime @mybestfriendmademe

#acotar #acotar imagine #acomaf #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #azriel #cassian #rhysand #rhys acotar #morrigan #mor acotar #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar series #cassian acotar #flight of the night

[inkareds]

Can I please request some fluffy headcanons with namor or a lazy day? I need more soft namor after the fight between wakanda and talocan is over, Thank you if you do this!

Care for You Namor

nav // marvel m.list // ko-fi ✧.* word count: 2.4k ✧.* genre: SFW // suggestive fluff ✧.* warnings: just some suggestive things at the end but I still think it's SFW

After the fight between Wakanda and Talocan, Namor worries you were disappointed in him, how wrong he was.

Taglist (rmbr u can join my taglist through the link in my bio or commenting in my monthly wip lists on which fics you'd like to be tagged also if you'd like to be removed j tell me! No hard feelings!!! <3): @simonsbluee @namorwife @euphrosyn3 @dilly-dalladalla @deliciousfestsalad @lothkat @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry

(all italic texts are Mayan) 

“I can’t believe he would do such a thing, I mean, giving up to that spoiled Wakandan Princess?! It’s a disgrace to our fighting abilities. We had them! You know we did!”

“Does it matter if we had them or not?! If what they’re saying are true, that ‘spoiled Wakandn Princess’ bested him in a fight. He could’ve died and the only thing you’re thinking about right now is if we were defeating those Wakandan soilders or not?!”  You practically yelled at Attuma. 

Namor, your husband, had said it would be better if you both were to fight on different fronts. After all, it was expected for him not to fight with the main army as he would’ve needed to fight against Shuri. If you were fighting with your soldiers it would bring the overall mood up, seeing their ruler fighting alongside them would give them more strength to fight. 

That decision had come as a double-edged sword, whilst it was true that the soldiers fought more valiantly with you in the ranks reminding them why they were fighting. It was also true that it brought you great anxiety when you realised that you didn’t know what was happening to Namor. For all you know he could’ve been dead or dying when fighting against Shuri. 

You knew better than to underestimate the woman. She may be much younger than both you and your husband, but she held the experience of someone double her age. Coupled with the loss she had experienced at the hands of your husband? It’s only natural that she’d fight fiercer than anything both you and your husband have seen so far. 

She was dangerous. You know that. 

The entire time you fought, feeling your blade clash together with the spears of the Wakandan soldiers, the only thing on your mind was to get this done quickly so you may be of assistance to Namor, your king, your husband. Nothing could’ve described the insane amount of thankfulness that rushed to you when you saw him and Shuri standing side by side on that ship. 

When he forced everyone to back down, unlike your people, the first thing you thought about was quickly dispelling your people. You’ve faced enough losses today, you’ve seen one too many of your subjects be killed in front of your eyes. You will not squander this chance of mercy Shuri has granted your king just because of pettiness. 

But just like in the war, once you were back in your underwater kingdom you were once more separated. As general, Attuma, a very close friend and confidant to you, pulled you aside to talk about the casualties and his overall rage at Namor’s decision. 

“Would you rather he die?” you asked in an exasperated manner towards Attuma when you saw the way his face still held anger. You knew where he was coming from, both your people and you have trained practically every day for this day to come. For the day that the people above waged war. To know and accept that the first battle in that war was lost to you, was hard to swallow. 

But it was something you had to swallow, and you’ll force everyone else fighting by your side to swallow as well. As selfish as it sounds, you’d rather lose a hundred battles than lose your husband. 

“There are strategic reasons why this is adventageous for both of us. If K’ul’kukan had killed Shuri it would’ve crippled Wakanda as a nation, yes! But that would mean they no longer have anything to lose! Did you see how many of us they were able to kill? What do you think will happen when they lose their pillar? More cassualties will follow, and Wakanda is greater as an ally than an enemy.”

It was true you were rather frustrated at the turn of events, but now that you were away from the battleground and had some time to think. There was an advantage to losing and being spared after all. Advantages that would not show their true colours until later on. When Attuma looks unconvinced you turned your head. It’s useless trying to move an immovable rock. 

“Enough, remember who you are talking to Attuma.” Despite fighting on the same front you were quick to remind Attuma of his manners and the respect he should show you as his ruler, “I am tired of the fighting and I want to see my husband. Now leave me be, if you have anything to discuss about, Namora will take my stead.” 

Attuma seemed as if he was about to say something, but he quickly shut up when you pointed a sharp glare in his direction. “Of course, your highness, forgive my disrespect.”

“You are forgiven, now go.” 

When Attuma left the room you’re in, a room decorated from wall to wall with war strategies, statistics, and the like, you quickly left as well. The water could not carry you fast enough to the cavern that held your chambers with your husband. The only time you were able to see him was with Shuri on that ship, and even then he looked rough. 

You could only guess how many injuries he actually sustained during the battle. 

Finally setting foot on the cavern you practically ran to your shared chambers. As you slammed the door open, his attendants and the doctors around him jumped at the sight of their ruler. 

“Thank you for tending to my husband, you may now leave.” You quickly masked your panic as you realised the other people in the room. 

Namor looked at you with an unreadable gaze, sitting on a chair, his attendants surrounded him fussing about his wounds, massaging him with oils to ease his muscles, and two doctors worked at once to heal the wounds on his body and wrap the bandage around his ankle. “Your highness, we haven’t fully bandaged the king yet-”

“No matter, I will do that myself, now leave.” The doctor that spoke to you quickly nodded and stood up before urging his partner to leave with him. 

Not long after that the attendants soon left as well after tidying up their tools. 

In quick succession the moment they left the room you dropped to your knees in front of your King. Grabbing the bandage that the doctor left behind and slowly finishing dressing the wound on his ankle where Shuri ripped off his wings. 

You were silent and gentle when your hands slowly placed down the bandage once you realised the bandage on his ankle was already bled through. Namor didn’t speak when you slowly pulled the bandages away, showing the gash. He didn’t even wince when you placed medicine on the open wound. 

The only thing he did was watched as you meticulously cleaned and dressed his most damning wound. His silence was due to how he thought you felt. Here you were on your knees in front of him, showing him your subservience and yet he wasn’t able to win just a simple fight. He assumed you felt disappointed in him. 

The king of Talocan himself, a god in his own right, not being able to win a fight against a princess not even an eighth of his age? He felt great shame facing you right now. To any of his subjects, he would’ve told them about Shuri’s fighting spirit. How she was incredible on the battlefield. 

But to you? He can’t say anything. 

There were no excuses that would leave his mouth if you were to ask why it was that he lost. 

He had placed you on the front lines, you could’ve died and he wouldn’t have been able to avenge you. How can he call himself your husband if he can’t even do that? 

Buried in his own self-loathing thoughts Namor didn’t realise that you were done bandaging his ankle. His train of thought was only stopped when he felt your warm lips against his own. 

His eyes widened as he realised what was happening. Why were you kissing him? He was unworthy of your love, your touch, your kindness right now. When he didn’t kiss back you pulled away. 

“My love.” You whispered placing your forehead against his. “I was, so scared.” Namor was just about to apologise for putting you in such a dangerous position, thinking you were scared of having to fight the Wakandan army. 

But the moment he sees the tears leaving your eyes and the way your hands so delicately placed themselves on top of his chest covered in bruises and marks. He realised you were scared for him. At that point, he had nothing else to say. 

Did he seem so weak that you were worried for him? How unworthy was he truly for your love? You, a warrior, a deity in your own right. 

“Please stop thinking,” it was as if you could practically hear his self-loathing thoughts. “Stop thinking, just- just look at me.” One of your hands left his chest and went to angle his chin upwards to face you. 

You stood taller than him right now with him seated and you standing next to him. This way Namor could truly see how worried you were. “It killed me inside not knowing if you were winning the fight or not.” You finally croaked out in between your tears. 

Namor, finally breaking from his spell, grabbed both your hands, slowly lifting them and giving your knuckles long kisses. “I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m sorry for failing.” 

“Hush, I couldn’t care less about any of that right now. I’m just glad you’re here with me.” Then and there silence wrapped the two of you in its warm embrace. 

Though neither you nor your husband felt cold often, to be in each other’s presence, basking in the silence and comfort of just existing together felt warmer than anything else in the world. His hands slowly caress your own. Both of you with your closed eyes and touching foreheads. There was nothing else more calming in this world than this moment right here. 

When you remembered Namor was still fresh off the battlefield you pulled away from his touch, leaving him to slightly reach for your skin. “Patience, my king. Let me take care of you.” A hint of mischievousness lined your voice at that moment. 

Seeing s how the tension was slowly melting away, Namor only grinned and watched you intently as you walked behind his chair towards the table holding numerous oils. Picking one bottle up, he chuckled once he realised what you were going to do. 

“Is something the matter, my king?” the edge in your Mayan only made Namor’s grin widen. “No, no, please continue. Serve your king.” he teased. 

It was your turn now to smile at his words, all before going towards him and pouring some of the oil on his back and your hands. Slowly you pressed the palm of your hand on his back. You’ve done this plenty of times to both your king and your soldiers as a way to ease their tense muscles after battles to know what you were doing. 

But no matter how many times you’ve done it with Namor, every time it still feels intimate. He practically melts against your touch as you pushed your hands to knead away the knots in his back and body in general. 

You smiled as you watched the way Namor eased. You wished you could truly describe to him the amount of awe you had for him. Though you aged slower than most humans and mutants alike, you haven’t lived half of Namor’s lifetime. You couldn’t imagine what it was like to be him those days when he was alone. 

To be a king at such a young age, to be a god to a people for such a long time. Such burdens materialise in the way his muscles ached and tensed. 

But now with your skilled hands, you release all of that tension. 

Despite this, you were still quite cheeky, as you couldn’t help but speak when Namor kept lowly groaning at the pleasure of your hands on his back. “Is this that enjoyable my king?” you know he’s used to your jests, but what you didn’t expect was for him to suddenly stand up. 

The sudden action caused you to jump and he took that opportunity to lift you off your feet before dropping you down on your shared bed. 

“K’ul’kukan!” you yelled out entertainingly when Namor crawled on top of you, placing his body weight on both his hands and knees he looked down at your now flushed face as you looked up at him. “It was very enjoyable, I think I should return the favour, no?” 

A grin made its way to his lips as he began to lean down to your neck and pepper light kisses. Despite your clear enjoyment of what he was doing, seen by the way you were craning your neck to give him more access, you half-heartedly pushed him away. “Your wounds are still fresh K’ul’kukan! They’re going to reopen if you keep doing this.” 

He only hummed in response against your skin, his teeth slowly grazing and nibbling on the soft flesh of your neck. “Your doctors are going to be mad at me.” You tried to reason with him. 

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. I’m the king remember?” You swear he’s only teasing you, but Gods was his voice the most sultry thing in the world right now. 

Slowly through his soft touches and kisses, you began to forget that you were supposed to be worried about his well-being. “I was scared of you too.” he whispered so quietly against your skin. 

At that moment, you realised why he was doing this. It wasn’t because he wanted to say thank you for massaging him. Maybe that did play a part, but the reason he was now praising your body as if you were a temple was that he was scared. 

He was terrified about your own safety. Now that you were in his arms, words failed to describe how happy he was. And when words fail, actions speak louder. 

So, you stopped struggling and let your king, your husband, your God, make you feel like a deity.

Hi! I know this isn't REALLY what you asked for but I just couldn't get this out of my head! I hope you enjoy this either way though! But if you'd still like me to make a lazy day fic for Namor I can totally do that!!! <3

#namor x reader #mcu namor #mcu namor x reader #namor x you #namor x y/n #mcu

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Grim Dark Archives: Statement #005 Named Cybertronians

[Statement taken from [Redacted] on [Redacted: Sensitive data] regarding known Cybertronians. They were asked to elaborate on the Cybertronians that have been recorded as being present on Earth after the alien known as Cliffjumper was killed in action. We know very little about the event, but supposedly Cliffjumper was deployed to search for Decepticon activity.

According to the report given to us by Optimus Prime, Cliffjumper found where Decepticon agents were mining energon and promptly initiated combat. This resulted in his capture by the Decepticons, and although a corpse has yet to be recovered, the Autobots reported that his vitals flatlined.

High command saw fit to use [Redacted]'s knowledge to try and gain an understanding of just how many aliens we could possibly be dealing with in the near future. Thankfully [Redacted] was more than willing to speak on the matter and has already expressed an interest on elaborating more on certain individuals.

Statement begins.]

══════════════════

Oh this is the kind of question I will gladly answer. Collecting data on people, organizations, a various beliefs is my specialty. Now, since you are already familiar with the Autobots, I shall begin with them.

Let's start with the two wheeler. Her designation is Arcee, as you know. She is of a small sub-class of Cybertronians known as 'femmes' and well known for her abilities. Let me warn you now, femmes are some of the most terrifying Cybertronians out there, and not for the reason you may think. They may be small and seem feminine to you organics, but our femmes are built with strange and unique abilities alongside their differing processing methods. I will go more in depth regarding Cybertronian femmes a bit later. For now, all you need to know is that they latch onto the mentally or physically weak amongst our kind. And at that point, they claim the mech in question and slowly prepare to use their ability and... improve them.

Don't question it right now. There will be time for explanations later. For now, we are doing an overview aren't we? Anyway, her records do not go back to before the war, but personal investigation leads me to believe that she likely worked for the High Council in some capacity. She has ties to the Primacy but largely sticks with the Prime because he likes having a femme around to throw at enemies. Femmes are vicious creatures. Honestly considering how much Arcee liked him, Cliffjumper was a dead mech walking anyway. He's lucky to have been killed by the enemy rather than face the fate of those chosen by femmes. I've been the subject of a femme's interest once. I barely made it out alive. Thank Primus the Archives took me before she did.

Cliffjumper is rather irrelevant now, but I will go over him anyway in case he somehow manages to walk off whatever the Decepticons did to him. He actually doesn't have a ton on his record. He was a regular recruit, one recorded signing on sometime around the height of the war when factions had to be picked. There was nothing out of the ordinary about him, and in fact, he fell below average strength levels for most soldiers. That is probably what got Arcee interested in him. Poor mech came from one of the outer cities and probably didn't know what in the pits a femme even was. Its unfortunate that he's dead, but I honestly do think it was likely in his best interest. He would have dealt with so much suffering otherwise.

May he rest at peace as one with the Allspark.

Next up is Bulkhead. You know? The one who beat me into scrap? Don't play stupid. I am no fool. I am well aware you saw that footage. We will be discussing that later. Now about him, he is a Wrecker. His augmentations are specifically made by Wreckers for Wreckers and he will die for the organization. All those who join the Wreckers are bound to them forever. There simply is no escape once the augmentations are finished. Most don't want to leave, and Bulkhead falls into that category. I can go into more depth about the Wreckers and their... beliefs, a bit later. At the moment, let it be known that he does not give a flying frag about you squishies. He follows the creed of his kind and thankfully for all of you, that creed does not permit unnecessary damage to native lifeforms of foreign worlds. Last I checked, he serves the Prime because that is part of his duty and Prime gave him the means to deal with a grudge of his. He has a personal investment here on Earth because he heard that there was a rouge Wrecker here somewhere.

No I will not elaborate right now. You lot need to be paying close attention to what comes next, so I will not linger on topics at the moment.

Ratchet is the resident medic. I believe I have expressed my fears before, but seriously, medics are DANGEROUS. I cannot emphasize that enough. The insane fraggers hyperfocus on one field and one faction and they stick to it like glue. They cling to their alliances and progeny like a parasite and will fight and even maim one another over patients. Ratchet is one of the best and worst medics I have ever encountered. His genius is legendary and he is one of the few who have ever been able to absorb all medical knowledge without focusing too hard on any particular field or falling to medical madness. Yes that is a real issue amongst my kind.

He also is not quite as insane as the others because of his upbringing out in the middle of nowhere during the age before the Quintessons came. But with that said, his motives are dubious at best. He is loyal to the Prime alone and would gladly frag over anyone who is not a medic or an Autobot. He also is not fond of you fleshies, but he does his job and should probably not be too bad so long as you don't catch his interest. Honestly getting the interest of any of my kind is a bad idea, so I suggest just not doing that. Medics in particular have one pit of a subculture that makes them a pain in the aft to understand, even for the average Cybertronian.

Now, moving on from the mad medic, Bumblebee is the team scout, and for good reason. He is totally unaugmented. He has no attachments whatsoever. No commlink, no programming, no battle codes, no inbuilt weapons, no specializations, nothing at all. He is practically a civilian and has to work himself half to death just to keep up with the rest of our kind who get augments nearly the moment they are old enough to handle them. If you are looking for the safest Autobot, you will find it in him. He is still one of my kind, but possess a great ability to empathize, or at least offer aid without expecting something in return. He never got any alteration programming, which may explain his more reasonable disposition. But of course, there is a reason for that.

I will not go into detail right now, but Bumblebee is kept from receiving augments on purpose. It is easier for mecha without augments to receive the Matrix of leadership and live reasonable lives under its control. Optimus is by no means loving, but he cares for what he sees as his. Bumblebee is being trained to be physically stronger than the others and mentally hardened so that he can bear the burden should Optimus fall. Either that, or he is being prepared to carry the weight of our people's history if another is found more suitable. The Prime is currently a walking databank for all of Cybertronian knowledge. One way or another, Bumblebee will carry the weight of one station, be it that of the Archive or the Matrix. He cannot escape, but it does not seem like he wishes to. He is loyal to his Sire and to the cause after all.

As for Optimus Prime himself? He is a whole series of statements on his own. To give you the thousand mile high overview, he was originally a dock worker. He was normal, much like Bumblebee. He had the attention of a femme, but he seemed to have a reasonable lifespan on him regardless of that fact. Then the Archive took him, and there he became one of theirs. He was one of the many sets of optics and frames which belonged to the Archive. And yet, he took interest in Megatronus, the leader of the Decepticons. Orion Pax, as was his name at the time, had his reasons for being involved. However through a series of accidents, he found himself being prepped for war. He was offered as a sacrifice, and the last resort relic that is the Matrix of Leadership was given to him. Since then he has led the war and done everything in his power to take what he sees as his.

He is a master at manipulation and adaptation. He can and will find information on every subject and devour it like a starving mech. If he finds you interesting, he will tear you apart to gain every last fact and iota of information. There is no escape from him, and until he gets what he wants, he will not allow anyone to stand in his way. His goals are complex, and even I do not fully understand. But he fights all the same and will kill you regardless. Be wary of him. He is by far the most dangerous simply because he has lived so long.

Primes do not last longer than a few millennia. And yet Optimus has lived for over four million years. That should be a sign that he's clever and has ways to bypass what we have always assumed was a death sentence.

For the Decepticons, there have only been three confirmed units and one unconfirmed thus far. I will explain any others as they become relevant. To begin, there is Starscream, the Lord of Vos. He is a seeker, a subsection of flight class Cybertronians that do not fall in line with normal standards. Seekers were complete isolationists before the war, even going so far as to have their own ever moving city, language, and culture. They do not use modern technology, they do not worship Primus, and their rituals are savage even by Cybertronian standards. I will go into more depth on them later, but for the time being, just know that Starscream being the Lord of Vos essentially puts him in the position of Shaman for his kind. He is a follower of nature and seeks to keep things in balance while remaining faithful to his culture. Due to how little is known about Vosian culture and Seekers as a whole, he is unpredictable. His motives are almost entirely impossible to figure out and he will fight in the way of the ancients. By all accounts the Seekers should have been wiped out eons ago, but their methods are... surprisingly effective.

Cunning and strange, Starscream's methods are unorthodox and his loyalty is all but void. He serves whatever it is he worships, his people, and himself. That is all. He has no mortals or ethics even amongst our rather loose ones. The only benefit you humans will find in his nature is that he is not fond of killing without reason and likely will leave you alone if you don't bother him. But of course he is a spontaneous mech and could just as easily turn up in the dead of night and slaughter you all will no explanation. Leave him be, that is my suggestion.

Soundwave is Megatron's second in command, at least behind the scenes. He joined up with the Decepticons long before they were official and knows more than I care to bother explaining. Not a spark actually knows what he is, but him and others like him, such. as the Autobot Blaster, have an ability that gives them an edge. He is able to house symbiotes, beings that I have no real clue where they come from. Soundwave and those like him are recorded appearing out of the blue randomly only to then latch onto mecha of interest in a manner like femmes. Those mecha proceed to live out their lives normally, but usually just before death, Soundwave and his kind will drag them off never to be seen again. Within a few vorns, a new symbiote can be noted running around. I hypothesize that whatever is done to the dying plays a role in the creation of symbiotes, but I do not have enough information. Soundwave serves Megatron, that is what matters.

He can get into just about anything and very little is known about him as a whole. No known motives, no known origin, no known anything really. He is a stranger who appeared in the pits alongside Megatron and simply never went away. Keep clear of him if you can. He is a mech that even the average Cybertronian tries to steer away from.

Vehicons are clone soldiers that might as well be civilians with toy blasters attached to them. They are normal mecha who are held together by some grand communication array that I am not familiar with. They are mass produced, hold very little value, and oftentimes do not have much personality aside from the one that they all share. They work without question and die in droves before being promptly replaced. Honestly your biggest concern is possibly being stepped on. The Vehicons are untrained newsparks at worst and competent but low level ground units at best. Until they develop more as individuals, they are not too great a threat save for when they are sent out in waves.

Lastly there is Megatron, currently MIA Lord of the Decepticons. He came from the mines of Kaon and somehow managed to work past the slave coding installed in him long enough to simply wander out of the pits. He was a scumbag in the redlight district for a while before spontaneously ending up in the pits as a Gladiator. There he gained a following and did his best to fight for his cause before ultimately turning to war to make things more faster. This backfired horribly if you can't tell. Now he is a mech who seems lost more often than not. He has been noted having patchy memory, more so after every interaction with Optimus Prime. He is only as cruel as was normal in the redlight district and his most concerning trait is his astounding lack of care for anything orderly or organic. He hates programing or augmentation and only tolerates it in his soldiers to win. Augments enrage him to such an extent that he has been noted acting out of normal parameters in response to heavily altered individuals. He wants chaos, that is what you need to know.

If he thinks it would further his ends, he would gladly wipe this planet off the map. However he does nothing without reason, and so unless you garner his attention, you should be fine. Stay away from him, don't mention anything related to the Archive or the Matrix, and all should be well... for the most part.

I can tell you more later, but for now, you best keep your organic optics on the happenings going on. If Cliffjumper is dead, it means there is a very real chance things are going to spiral and do so fast.

══════════════════

[Statement end.

The timestamps have been removed from these reports in response to [Redacted]'s information on the Cybertronian known as Soundwave. What information we have is critical for our survival, and we simply cannot risk it being destroyed even if the alien able to do so with ease likely won't ever bother to damage our files.

We expect [Redacted] to be giving us much more data soon, especially since they have begun to warm up to me and my fellow agents since their repairs were completed. They have also requested to be referred to by masculine pronouns, perhaps as a sign of trust? Whatever the case, we are making progress. Hopefully we will have a reasonable way to fight back against the aliens soon, at least if their guns settle on us.

Agent Witwicky signing off.

Recording ends.]

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #team prime #megatron #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #arcee #bulkhead #soundwave #starscream #the grim dark archives #[redacted] #agent witwicky #statement recording #oh boy I cannot wait to get into the lore I have cooking up #but for now #here are hints :)

[hyperfixatedfandomer]

He cared

Summary: Sullys find out what Spider did and he crumbles as the pain he’s been holding in for his entire life finally comes to the surface .

“You…you what?” Kiri asked, her voice shaking.

“I…I saved him.” Spider’s heart hammered against his ribcage in guilt and fear, but he looked bravely into her eyes. He had to be honest, had to tell them because it was the right thing to do.

Maybe he was writing his own death sentence, but Eywa doesn’t like liars, and neither does Spider himself. He was taught better than that, and it was better to rip off the band-aid sooner than later.

Seconds felt like years as the family all collectively went into shock, the realisation dawning on them slowly, painfully so, and suddenly the boy was overcome with terror. What had he done? He shouldn’t have stayed with them after what he did, he should have ran away or thrown himself off of a cliff or—

“Why did you do that?” Jake began, standing up slowly, growing louder with every word. “WHY?!” He took Spider‘s shoulders and shook him, looking rather pained than angry, like a part of him hoped there was some obscure explanation for why this boy saved a monster who was responsible for traumatising so many people in the past few months and promised to kill them all.

Honestly, the boy didn’t expect be given an opportunity to explain himself. Spider actually believed someone would snap his neck before he could open his mouth again, so he hasn’t thought it out this far, and the question was a simple one, however…he didn’t know the answer.

Or, well, he knew, there were many, but had no idea which one to give them, which one would make them understand, which one would stop them from killing him, although at this point he kind of felt like he deserved it.

Quaritch saved my life. Twice. I was only returning the favour.

He is not the same man who led the war on Pandora, he can change, he can redeem himself.

Eywa said all life is sacred, I couldn’t leave him to die, it would be wrong.

These were all real factors, honest feelings he had about his father captor, but deep down he knew that none of those played a role in that moment, when he saw that man drowning, for there was only one thought on his mind, only one feeling.

Fear. He feared for him. For this broken, twisted man who nevertheless had good in him, in these rare moments they’d share, the little smiles he’d give the boy when he was around simply because being with him made Quaritch happier, and it felt amazing to be wanted, and when he was wanted, Quaritch no longer felt like a horrid monster. Rather, he was simply a person forced into an identity of a dead man, trying to play the role he was given because it was all he had.

Until he got Spider.

And back on that burning ship, when the kid almost got murdered, he saw it.

He saw that Quaritch too, feared for him, and his mask crumbled as he let Kiri go.

So how could he let him die? The man who took him from everything he ever knew and kept him hostage but also…looked out for him? Genuinely gave him his all, even if his all was the bare minimum? Who tried, for him? Who gave up his mission and practically doomed himself to failure, for him?

“TELL ME!” Jake shook the boy more violently, locking eyes with him. Neytiri was too devastated to even move, recalling that dreadful day and imagining how she’d have to deal with it again.

Lo’ak’s breathing was heavy and sure enough, he began hyperventilating at the possibility of meeting Quaritch again.

The panic of other family members caused Tuk to start worrying too. She knew what Quaritch’s survival meant but she couldn’t be mad at Spider for not allowing someone to die, he was just being a good person, she thought, trying to push the traumatic memories of a Na’vi dressed in camo looming over her. Spider wasn’t a bad guy, she knew that much, so she put her small hands on her mother’s shoulders, trying to shake her out of the shock. “Mommy..?…”

“SPIDER GOD DAMN IT!” Jake became more distressed, cupping the kid’s face to force him to snap out of whatever brainstorm he was having and start talking. After all it wouldn’t be long until Neytiri comes out of her trans and she just might go wild again, spurred by the horrid memories.

“How..how could you!? How could you DO THAT!?!?” Lo’ak was now coming toward the teen with wide strides and Jake outstretched his left hand to force a distance between them. This was getting out of control and Spider still hasn’t said a word after his confession. “After EVERYTHING HE DID! TO NEYTAYAM! TO KIRI AND TUK! TO US! TO YOU!!”

“BECAUSE HE CARED, UNLIKE YOU!!!”

.

.

.

The hut went silent. Spider never raised his voice like this before, pouring his hurt and frustration into every syllable, but it felt so damn selfish to admit it, that at the bottom of it all, this was the real reason.

Quaritch simply gave him more attention in several months than the entirety of Omatekaya, Jake and Neytiri did in his entire life and it felt pathetic to admit that he got attached so easily.

He begged Eywa to forgive him, but at least he was being honest, the great mother couldn’t blame him for that.

“He chose me…even when he had nothing to gain…” Spider then mumbled with a shaky breath. “Even when he didn’t have to…he chose me.”before breaking eye contact with Jake and looking away.

Meanwhile, Jake’s anger was now nowhere to be found, and neither was Lo’ak’s. Kiri held an understanding expression and even Neytiri’s fury subsided.

The father looked at Spider with an increasingly guilty expression, his grip on the shoulders weakening, turning gentle before he embraced him ever so tightly, pouring all of shame, all of his regret and affection into it.

And that’s all it took for the boy to break down into tears as he weakly put his arms around the man’s neck.

Lo’ak couldn’t move, he knew that Spider felt this way for a long time but never made a substantial effort to do anything about the problem. He thought it would blow over but instead, his friend got so neglected he trauma bonded to the first man who treated him with basic affection. He felt guilty.

Kiri moved forward, hugging spider and her father tightly to support her friend, and soon her brother joined her, then Tuk.

And then, with something akin to pity, Neytiri did too, putting her hand on the back of spider’s hair. She brought this on herself, this self-fulfilling prophecy…but it didn’t have to be that way.

It will take time, and they’ll make mistakes, but Spider is no longer a stray cat and so, they have to try, really try this time.

To show him he is no longer alone, that he no longer needs to go for the worst option just to stay afloat.

To show him what love really feels like.

And Quaritch? If that man shows up again, they’ll face him, and they’ll do it together, like a fortress.

Because Sullys leave no one behind. Not anymore. Not ever again.

#avatar #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #miles spider soccoro #spider socorro #avatar spider #avatar jake #jake sully #avatar neytiri #neytiri #avatar lo’ak #lo’ak sully #lo’ak #avatar kiri #kiri sully #tuk sully #avatar miles quaritch #avatar quaritch #na'vi quaritch #recom quaritch #avatar headcanons

[slayerchick303]

*SECRET INVASION FINALE SPOILERS*

I just finished Home, and I have some thoughts:

Rhodey was in a hospital gown when he got out of the pod! I swear to all that is holy, if they have him been replaced by a skrull after his injury in Civil War, I will march on Disney headquarters! That would cheapen Tony's death, funeral, and Rhodey's amazing conversation with Sam in Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I said I'd freak out if they made the swap previous to FATWS, and I meant it!

Gravik's human face was a man he killed, so I'm assuming the same is true for G'iah. If she is indeed going to be Abigail Brand as leaks have suggested (meaning Abigail Brand is dead), I'm going to be mad! Like legitimately disappointed. Brand is one of my favorite parts of the Astonishing X-Men comics run. I ship her and Beast so hard.

When was Everett Ross swapped? It has to have been after Black Panther because he would've reverted to his skrull form after being shot and/or Shuri would've noticed while healing him. Has a skrull infiltrated Wakandan leadership?! How many? For how long? Because that's BAD. Imagine the havoc skrulls could wreak with Wakanda's resources.

The CGI in this was pretty good. Especially compared to other recent Disney+ titles. That being said, I hate a lot of how they used it. Giving G'iah a huge Drax arm?! Bad choices in multiple ways: A.) the big Drax arm looked so weird as did other things. B.) do they think Marvel fans are too stupid to get what they were doing if they didn't make her arm huge? They should've kept Emilia's arm the same size, only given her Drax's tattoos and skin color at most. We would've understood. C.) the clothing changed too! How does that make sense?

Is Gravik really dead, though? Is Raava? We don't know if Raava has super skrull powers, but Gravik had like EVERYTHING. That seems like it should make him pretty invincible.

How did people not clock how off Rhodey was? There was like an enormous change in his personality. Raava was a jerk!

So, Fury and Sonya only tranqed those secret service members at the hospital. That wouldn't automatically make them revert, right, or every skrull would be outed when they fell asleep. If all those guards were humans, they were legitimately the worst security detail ever. That one guy literally listened to SkrullRhodey pretty much out herself and did nothing. He didn't even warn the president Rhodey was acting uncharacteristically. Every member of White House personale will have to be tested somehow. Maybe check for purple blood?

I really thought Ritson would die at the end. I guess he's just awful (which is unsurprising). I'm glad he won't be president much longer, as Harrison Ford is taking over the role of President Thaddeus Ross in Captain America: Brave New World. That being said, part of me worries that President Ross might be even worse than Ritson.

I kind of loved Varra and Fury's ending. It redeemed the awful, "I guess we'll never know moment."

****EDIT:**** I didn't think about this at the time, but I saw someone else bring it up. G'iah has Captain Marvel powers now! Doesn't that mean she should be caught up in the entanglement mess Captain Marvel, Photon, and Miss Marvel are dealing with in The Marvels?! That's an ENORMOUS plot hole. Not to mention, G'iah is ridiculously overpowered now. People complain about how powerful Superman is, and G'iah is so much worse.

I enjoyed Secret Invasion, even if it wasn't the best Disney+ show. The comics are still WAY better. Regardless, I'm looking forward to The Marvels even more now.

#secret invasion spoilers #secret invasion #disney marvel #disney plus #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvelcomics #marvel comics #marvel #disney #nick fury #skrulls #the marvels #g'iah #abigail brand #emilia clarke #samuel l jackson #sonya falsworth #olivia colman #priscilla fury #varra #everett ross #martin freeman #mcu

[bumblesimagines]

Under The Moonlight

Part 2

Request: Yes or No

~~~

Their cell felt cold and dark. Hay sparsely covered the solid ground and the windows were covered, making the circle in the ceiling their only form of light apart from the single torch in the corner. Dust clung to the air and walls, telling (Y/N) the jail was very rarely used. Jarl Haakon appeared to run a tight ship.

But even with years of experience under her belt, she hadn't foreseen the attack Freydis had launched on the Christian. She'd been successful without Harald's keen eye trained on her. Using her knife, she had carved a cross into the man's chest just as he had done to her back years prior. The aftermath had been far from calm but Jarl Haakon had been convinced to provide them a proper trial rather than take their heads.

So, there they were... Sitting in a cold cell with a murky future ahead of them. (Y/N) could only stare at the flickering flame of the torch, his finger tracing over the thread of his necklace, feeling his skin brush against the canine teeth tied to it. None of them had gotten a wink of sleep with the threat of death looming over them and (Y/N) could feel the consequences of it knawing at the back of his eyes. His siblings sat silently with their knees up to their chests, gazes distant as they stared forward. 

"Do you feel justice?" Leif broke the silence first with his words, lifting his head and looking at the exhausted Freydis. 

"Yes, I do," Freydis answered softly and craned her neck to look at them over her shoulder. Even with the dim lighting, (Y/N) could still see the drops of blood splattered on her face. "I feel cleansed."

"Good." Leif breathed, nodding to himself before continuing. "Because now they intend to kill us."

"I don't believe that. Father said-"

"Father was wrong." Leif interrupted and Freydis frowned, looking away from them as her bottom lip began to quiver. "He's a stranger to this world, Freydis. He does not know how much has changed since he left."

"Then I believe in Jarl Haakon." Freydis asserted, eyes beginning to gloss over with fresh tears. Guilt and hope battled within her, (Y/N) saw it in her eyes. She'd gotten her justice but at what cost? Her life? Her brothers' lives?

"I believe in her too." (Y/N) muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "Her face changed when she heard what happened, Leif. She may not allow us to go unpunished, but she may allow us to live."

"Jarl Haakon may feel sympathy, but she is in a difficult position. If she releases us, she risks war. Christians will burn down Kattegat and many of her people will die. It is in her best interest to have us killed." 

"Then we die together. We came here for Freydis. We knew the risks and dangers. I would rather die beside my family than surrounded by strangers on a battlefield." (Y/N) declared, turning his attention onto Freydis. Her lips pursed and she released a breathy, sad chuckle as she turned her head to gaze fondly at her brother. Tears had already begun to slip down her cheeks but his words put a warm smile on her face. Allowing his shoulders to slump, Leif inhaled deeply and nodded in agreement, reaching his arm out to wrap it around his brother's shoulder. 

"We fought together and we'll die together," Leif muttered, resting his cheek against (Y/N) head. 

Freydis's lips parted, almost as if to speak, but her words caught in her throat when the cell door slung open and three Vikings entered with chains and shackles in their hands. While the one with chains approached Freydis, the other two walked toward the brothers and roughly pulled them up onto their feet, placing the shackles on their wrists and shoving them forward toward the doors. They were escorted out of the cell and down an equally dimly lit hallway before being directed outside and toward the hall where Jarl Haakon and King Canute waited for them. 

The hall had already been filled with Vikings, mainly Christians seeking justice for their fallen friend. They glared and sneered and jeered, gazing upon them as if they were mere filth. (Y/N) felt the hate and rage in their gazes. Even if they barely cared for the murdered Christian, following another god was a sin worthy of death for many of them. Their hatred could move mountains, but on most days, it burned down homes and slaughtered innocents. 

"Freydis Eriksdotter, you are accused of murdering a man you claimed attacked you." Jarl Haakon took her seat on her throne, head lifting as she regarded Freydis. "Have you a way to prove this?"

"Did I put the scar on my back?"

"Any one of your lovers could have done that to you!" One of the Christians, Jarl Olaf Haraldsson, sneered from his spot in the crowd, glaring at them with the same fury and disgust.

Freydis scowled. "The Gods know the whole truth!"

"False Gods!" Jarl Olaf spat back, rousing the crowd with his words as Vikings called their agreements or disagreed with him. In an attempt to quiet the crowd, Jarl Haakon repeatedly hit the floor with her staff, frown deepening when it proved futile and tensions grew.

"There is only one false God! Your Christian God!" Jarl Gorm bellowed, his voice carrying above all others.

"Silence!" Jarl Haakon called, slamming her staff down one last time and watching the men finally settle down. With the attention back on the trial instead of religion, Jark Haakon sighed and nodded to Freydis.

"In the old ways, you would be well within your rights to take revenge. But we live in different times. There are those gathered among us who feel that your claims require further truth. Can you provide it?"

"A trial by combat." Freydis proposed, shifting her gaze onto Jarl Olaf, a man thrice her size. (Y/N) felt his breath catch in his throat, widened eyes meeting Leif's as the two exchanged a panicked glance. Freydis could hold her own, they knew that well, but Jarl Olaf was far more experienced in combat and strategy than any of them. "If I am lying, the Gods will not protect me."

"Combat? With me?" Jarl Olaf snickered and the rest of the hall howled with laughter.

Lips pulling into an amused smirk, Jarl Haakon eyed the cackling man. "You are her accuser. Are you afraid?" Her words caused Jarl Olaf's face to burn, glaring at those among him who laughed at him instead. Eager to shake the embarrassment and attention off, he stepped forward and addressed the quiet man beside Jarl Haakon.

"King Canute, this woman's actions have robbed you of a valuable part of your arsenal. Not having Gunnar puts the lives of everyone in this room, Christian and Pagan, at risk. Therefore, I implore you and the noble ruler of Kattegat to acknowledge that debt and make her pay for it with her life!" Turning, he shouted as he pointed at Freydis. With the crowd once again growing rowdy, Jarl Olaf smugly smirked and stepped back into line. The confidence on his face made (Y/N) grind his teeth.

"Jarl Haakon, may I speak?" Harald called out, stepping forward when the woman nodded. Motioning toward Jarl Olaf, he began. "Jarl Olaf makes an excellent argument. Gunnar was an important part of our strategy, and his loss will indeed cause hardship. But my brother may have also offered a better solution. Since this woman cost you a vital element to your mission, should she not be forced to render something of equal, if not greater value to our endeavor?"

"Such as?" King Canute prompted and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. With King Canute's interest piqued, the end of Harald's lips twitched upward and he turned his head to look at the siblings, gaze lingering on Freydis before he lifted his arm.

"Her brothers: Leif Eriksson and (Y/N) Eriksson." Harald answered. Freydis went rigid, eyes widening as her brothers were pushed forward for King Canute to look upon. "Sons of the Great Berserker, Erik the Red. Leif is one of, if not the best ship captains in this room. He piloted his ship across open ocean from Greenland through a storm that killed scores of others, with the help of his brother, (Y/N), who possesses incredible fighting skills I've witnessed myself. Should we doubt their motivation, they will be fighting for the life... of their sister." 

Harald had offered a solution without bloodshed. A solution that saved their lives, if they didn't die in the war instead. (Y/N)'s throat felt dry but a sense of relief settled on his chest, eyes shifting to look at his sister. Freydis appeared near tears, nearly trembling as she stared at Jark Haakon and King Canute. They could easily dismiss it and proceed with killing them but as the two leaders looked at each other, it seemed like they were in agreement. 

"Leif Eriksson, (Y/N) Eriksson, I ransom your sister to King Canute. To repay her debt, you both must pledge service to his cause. Do you accept these terms?" Jark Haakon asked. (Y/N) looked at his brother next, staring into Leif's blue eyes and searching for any ounce of doubt. But he found none. And Leif found none in (Y/N) either. 

"I do." With their answer, Jarl Haakon nodded for her men to release the brothers. One man took Freydis by the arm and pulled her away, only letting the brothers stare after their sister as the shackles were removed from their wrists. And while they physically weren't shackled anymore, they were still in chains. Tied to King Canute until his war ended. But their sister would live and that was all that mattered to (Y/N).

"I believe this is yours," Harald said, pulling their attention onto him. Harald extended his arm toward him, offering back his precious dagger. (Y/N) felt a sense of relief and security wash over him, gently picking up the dagger and sliding it into his rightful place. Noticing the calm that wash over the younger man, Harald smiled. "Come, both of you. I must show you something." 

"What is it?" Leif asked curiously, a hint of caution in his voice as the brothers followed Harald out of the hall but the Viking simply grinned at them. The other Greenlanders quickly joined them, quietly asking questions and glancing at each other nervously when Leif answered them. They weaved their way through the bustling town, reaching the dock where ships awaited them, many being prepared and packed for the trip to England. Harald led them toward one in particular.

"It was my father's ship." He revealed, stopping before it and watching the Greenlanders begin to board and explore it curiously. (Y/N) followed his brother on, looking over the woodwork of it. The ship was far larger than the boat they'd used to sail to Kattegat, sturdier and meant for many Vikings. A true warship. "And now it's yours," Harald added, drawing the brothers' attention. (Y/N) met Leif's gaze, shrugging his shoulders when the older man raised a brow. 

"It's a nice boat." (Y/N) murmured, running a hand over the ledge of the boat before peering up at Harald and catching sight of his prideful smile.

"I'm glad you find it so," Harald replied, his gaze focused solely on the young Greenlander. His eyes studied (Y/N) closely, almost as if he were trying to commit every detail about him to memory. When Harald finally pried his eyes off him, he motioned toward the boat docked beside them. (Y/N) turned his head and easily spotted it. Perhaps twice as large as the boat they were on and suited for royalty. Shields had been fasted to the sides of it, proudly displaying the colors of Norway's flag. "But that is the ship I covet."

"King Harald of Norway, hm?" Leif spoke in a teasing tone, his grin only growing when he noticed the surprised look that passed over his brothers' features. (Y/N)'s eyes widened slightly and his head snapped in the direction of his brother. His skin flushed lightly and he avoided Harald's amused gaze.

"Someday." Harald smiled warmly before nodding to them and heading down the dock.

Leaning his hip against the wall of their new ship, (Y/N) watched the dark-haired prince, feeling his skin prickle with some embarrassment when Harald looked back toward him, coming to a slow stop and holding his gaze. Averting his eyes, (Y/N) cleared his throat and faced his brother, arms crossing over his chest. "You could've mentioned he was a prince."

"I enjoy it when you make a fool of yourself." Leif chuckled, helping Yrsa and Toke bring everyone's belongings on board. (Y/N) couldn't help the small smile that stretched across his face, rolling his eyes at his brother's words and stepping toward Yrsa to help as well. Leif questioned his friends, allowing them to choose whether they'd join him in battle or remain safe in Kattegat. With the boat ready to go, (Y/N) and Leif stepped back onto the dock and exchanged farewells with the friends who chose to remain in Kattegat. 

Feeling Leif tug on his arm, he turned his head and spotted their sister making her way down the dock with Harald, a wide smile on her face. She embraced Leif first, giving him a tight hug and rubbing his arm. Gazing at (Y/N), she hugged him next and sighed softly, tightening her hold on him for a moment before stepping back. With quivering lips and watery eyes, she smiled. "I will make sacrifices to Odin for your safe return."

"We'll be fine. You take care of yourself." Leif smiled softly at her and she nodded, leaning in to kiss his cheek. She inhaled and looked at (Y/N), rolling her lips into her mouth and stepping forward for a second hug. (Y/N) chuckled softly, stroking the back of her head and holding her close.

"Protect each other." She whispered shakily, hand rubbing his back.

"We will." (Y/N) assured, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. Freydis leaned back, using the back of her back to wipe away the tears sliding down her cheeks. She smiled warmly at the rest of her friends, stepping forward to give them each an embrace. The familiar feeling of tears prickled the back of his eyes but he blinked them away and stepped onto the boat, inhaling shakily. With the goodbyes finished, Freydis smiled sadly and looked over each of them, taking slow steps along the dock until she reached Harald and uttered a soft thanks. She glanced one last time over her shoulder before heading down the dock and disappearing from sight.

A few more Vikings joined them, some Christian, others Pagan. Among them were Jarl Gorm, the outspoken Pagon with a large figure and long ginger hair, and his son Arne, a young man with a scruffy beard and short blonde hair. Then there was Johan, a Christian Viking with hair that swept over one eye, and Tomas, a younger man with short curly black hair and boyish features. Birger, a Christian Viking who appeared to be a close friend of Harald's, joined them as well. 

(Y/N) watched the new faces join them and introduce themselves, and even with each friendly smile, he felt more and more uneasy. It'd taken nearly a year for (Y/N) to grow comfortable around the other Greenlanders, and it took another year for him to fully trust them. To have so many strangers on a boat with growing animosity between a few of them... (Y/N)'s stomach twisted. 

Noticing his tense figure, Leif placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Easy, (Y/N). We're all working together." He murmured and (Y/N) nodded, turning to watch him step onto one of the seats and look over his new crew as Njal and Skarde brought a barrel to the center of the boat.

"Listen up! All knives and axes in the barrel. No one rows with a weapon on them." 

"I don't give up my knife for anybody." Jarl Gorm voiced defiantly.

"There's only one reason to row with a weapon, and that is to kill someone else on this boat. Your enemy is not here." Leif responded, gaze shifting to his brother and giving a small shake of his head. (Y/N) rested his hand on the hilt of his dagger, satisfied he didn't have to toss it into the barrel.

"What if he is?" Arne piped up, eyeing Johan and Tomas when the two stepped by him.

"Then I'll deal with it," Leif answered cooly, face remaining stoic as he looked over the crew. For him to be taken seriously, he needed to act like a leader. Otherwise, those like Arne and Jarl Gorm would do as they pleased, even at the cost of others' lives.

Moving forward, Harald spoke and dropped his axe into the barrel. "I have no enemies here." 

With Harald making the first move, the others soon followed, dropping their axes and knives into the barrel. The outspoken men hesitated, glancing at each other and staring at the barrel as weapons were dropped in. Arne cracked first, begrudgingly dropping his axe in. Jarl Gorm held Leif's gaze challengingly but ultimately stepped forward and tossed his weapons in. (Y/N) watched him, taking note of the way he readjusted his coat with his back turned to them. Humming softly, he looked back at Leif and quirked a brow, his brother giving a small nod of acknowledgment before beckoning him over.

"I want you beside me," Leif told him, sitting down on his seat and resting his arms upon the steering oar. (Y/N) eyed Harald when the prince sat down behind Leif, a small smile appearing on the prince's face. (Y/N) frowned at him in return and took a seat on the bulwark, feeling Harald's eyes burn into the back of his head. Propping his leg up, (Y/N) placed his arm on his knee as the boat began to move forward, following King Canute's ship. Vikings released shouts and cries of encouragement as they rowed out into open water.

"Interesting necklace," Harald mentioned, retrieving a discarded rope and beginning to toy with the ends of it, gazing at the threat holding the canine teeth together around the Greenlander's neck. (Y/N) turned his attention out onto the dark waters, watching the ripples and small waves in a blatant attempt at ignoring the prince.

Leif made a noise of amusement and shook his head, fingers drumming lightly against the steering oar. "My brother has never been much of a talker."

"I can see that," Harald chuckled. 

Hours passed, the occasional silence filled with small talk between Leif and Harald. The two seemed to grow a quick tolerance for each other, even going as far as cracking a few jokes. And despite Harald's attempts at communicating with the younger Eriksson, his questions remained unanswered, though it only fueled his curiosity. Jarl Gorm eventually walked toward them, being mindful of holding onto things unless he wished to be tossed around by the rocking boat. 

"So, is this your first Viking raid? Are you nervous?" Jarl Gorm questioned, resting his hand on the side of the boat and planting his feet firmly on the wood beneath them. 

"Our father was a raider. He told us he was a Berserker." Leif said and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"That means he was a mighty warrior and killed many men." Jarl Gorm explained, stepping closer to Leif and moving his hand onto the oar. "Like Harald." Jarl Gorm motioned toward the prince and for the first time since the boat set sail, (Y/N) turned his head to look at him.

Unable to read his expression clearly, Harald cleared his throat. "So, why did he go to Greenland?"

"Because he killed men, even when he wasn't raiding," Leif answered grimly. The subject of their father never failed to make him upset. Even when Erik made attempts at being a decent father, his past and crimes always caught up to him. A past his children had to accept but Leif grew to resent.

"Have you ever killed a man before?" 

Shaking his head, Leif frowned at Jarl Gorm. "No. I've never had a reason to."

"And you, boy?" Jarl Gorm turned toward (Y/N) next. The younger Greenlander held Harald's gaze for a moment longer before looking at the older man and nodding, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Almost." (Y/N) answered and Jarl Gorm raised his brows. "He insulted my family so I bashed his face in with a rock. He lost an eye." He still remembered the day. He'd only been nine when the thirteen-year-old boy had decided to bother Erik the Red's son. He found out just how thin (Y/N)'s patience ran at the cost of an eye. The memory of his screams and wails still brought a smirk to (Y/N)'s face. 

Smirking widely, Jarl Gorm nodded his approval. "It appears we've got a Berserker in the making."

"We were children." Leif clarified hastily, a frown pulling at his lips.

"Still." Jarl Gorm insisted before he sighed heavily and looked between the two. Without their father there to guide them, it seemed as if Jarl Gorm wanted to take matters into his own hands. "The first time is sometimes difficult. A man is different. He fights back."

"So does a polar bear." Leif chided and Harald smirked, chuckling softly under his breath. Seemingly irritated with his dismissive response and Harald's amusement, Jarl Gorm's lip curled and he turned,  heading back to his seat. (Y/N) watched him go, turning his head to meet his brother's eyes and frowning. Leif responded with a small nod.

Noticing the interaction between the brothers, Harald hummed. "You can speak freely before me, (Y/N)."

"Why should I?" (Y/N) frowned at him. "I do not trust you. Prince of Norway or not, you are... nothing to me."

"I saved your lives." Harald reminded softly, brows furrowing when (Y/N)'s eyes narrowed, almost reeling back at the irritation that appeared on his face. "How can you not trust me after that?"

"Because you had no reason to. People only help others when they wish for something in return and you've yet to reveal what you want from us."

"I want nothin-"

"I do not believe you." (Y/N) interrupted him. "We owe you, you know this. So what do you want? Our blessing to couple with our sister? If she wants you, we will not stop her." 

Sighing heavily, Harald shook his head. "Freydis is an incredibly strong woman and I admire her greatly. But she does not desire me nor I her."

"Then why-" A holler for Harald came from King Canute's ship and the prince quickly rose to his feet, noticing the large ship had stopped and tilted slightly to allow for Harald to board it.

"This is not over," Harald told (Y/N) as he climbed onto the side of the ship, carefully making his way along the edge until he stepped onto the larger boat and approached King Canute beneath the pitched tent. (Y/N) clenched his jaw and shook his head, looking back at Leif. His older brother stared at him with a frown.

"What?"

"You don't need to be so harsh. I have no reason to believe he has ill intentions." Leif spoke softly, leaning into the steering oar and gazing at his brother. (Y/N) sighed, turning his head away from him. His lips parted to speak but the sight of dark clouds approaching broke his train of thought. Straightening up, (Y/N) felt the wind pick up considerably, and soon, a horn echoed as a warning of the incoming storm. Cold droplets fell onto his face and he looked back at his brother, groaning softly. Leif watched the storm, looking up at the clouds as thunder began to clap above them.

Turning to the man closest to him, he gave an order. "Lower the sail." 

"Lower the sail!" Birger called as those standing quickly sat back down and prepared to hang on for dear life. The ginger made his way toward the mast but tripped over Aren's outstretched foot, causing him to take a quick tumble onto the wet floor. 

"Watch out, Christian! Maybe you should pray to be more careful." Aren cackled loudly.

"You tripped him on purpose." Johan scoffed, droplets dripping down the side of his face as the rain pelted them.

"I did not."

"I saw you!" Johan barked and Aren's cocky smirk quickly slipped from his face.

"You callin' me a liar?" Arne questioned and stood, tapping his chest. "Come here and tell me that!" He challenged, causing Johan to rise from his spot and step toward him. But before the two men could meet in the middle, (Y/N) shoved himself between them, putting his hand on Arne's shoulder and forcing him back down to his seat.

"Resolve your issues when we reach land." (Y/N) ordered, turning his head toward Johan. He only had to give the taller man a hard look for the Christian to bow his head and lower himself back into his seat.

Leif moved to stand beside (Y/N), frowning down at Arne. "Do you have a problem with my order?"

"I'm fine." Arne raised his arms in surrender and (Y/N) removed his hand from his shoulder. Satisfied with his response, Leif nodded and patted his brother's back, turning away from the others as Jarl Gorm followed the two toward the steering oar. 

"I thought you were both followers of the Old Gods, like your father." He spoke loudly, the rain beating down on his face and causing him to squint. Merely glancing at the older man, (Y/N) slipped some rope around his palm and gripped it as tight as possible, hoping it'd keep him from falling into the turbulent waves around them. 

"We are," Leif nodded, getting behind the oar and placing his hands on it.

"Then why take the word of a Christian over my own son?"

"Because your son is a liar, Jarl Gorm." He answered bluntly before leaning back. "I suggest you hold on. It's about to get rough."

                    ➸        ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸

Thick fog surrounded them on all sides and the wind howled softly while birds circled above them. (Y/N) couldn't hear or see another boat, meaning they were all alone for now. With no land or allies in sight. And yet, (Y/N) didn't have worries or fears. His brother knew what he was doing, that was for certain. As long as Leif didn't panic, (Y/N) had no reason to worry. But the others aboard didn't know his brother as well as he did, they didn't trust him either. It was apparent in the way some Christians prayed and others stared at them accusingly. 

"We're lost, aren't we?" Jarl Gorm spoke up first, voicing the thought no doubt plaguing their minds. "You've never been to England, and you've lost us!"

"We're not lost." Leif objected tiredly and (Y/N) turned his head to look back at them, frowning at the way Jarl Gorm scowled at his brother.

"Liar! This is your fault and the fault of all the Christians and their false God. The Gods are laughing at us right now!"

"Shut up, heathen." Birger groaned.

"What did you say to me?"

"I said, shut up. You sound like a frightened child." The ginger gritted his teeth as he spoke, turning his head to look upon Jarl Gorm. The Viking slowly rose from his seat, sneering down at the man and stepping toward him. Tearing himself away from the pow, (Y/N) descended down the two steps and slammed his palm on the mast as a warning, successfully taking Jarl Gorm's attention off the man and onto him.

"Stop rowing!" Leif barked his order, walking forward toward Jarl Gorm. "What do you see that makes you believe we're lost?"

"What do I see?" Jarl Gorm repeated, turning his head from side to side before settling his gaze back on Leif and wildly motioning around them. "No land!"

"See, that is where you and I are different. The sky tells me we are headed west. Auks and gannets flying high tell me the weather is improving and we are nearing land." Leif explained, watching Jarl Gorm glance up at the birds flying above. He looked back down at Leif and swallowed.

"Then where are the other boats?"

"The other boats are not my responsibility. This boat-" Leif tapped the mast, raising his brows at Jarl Gorm. "-is my responsibility. For all you know, the other boats are lost, not ours. Now, we continue." With his words, the others resumed their rowing. Jarl Gorm accepted defeat and headed back to his spot. 

"And Jarl Gorm, stop blaming the Christians for your fears, hm?" Leif turned away from the man and (Y/N) followed suit as Birger began laughing. But when his laughter abruptly stopped and turned into gurgling, (Y/N) turned around and spotted him leaning against the side of the boat with blood pouring down his neck. The small group of Christians were immediately held back and the other Greenlanders could only stare at the bleeding man. Liv tore herself from their side and hurried over to Birger but the damage had been done. She could only provide mild comfort as he slowly died.

"I'm taking over the boat!" Jarl Gorm declared. "Arne, get the weapons."

"Let them go!" Leif demanded, pushing his way through the crew as (Y/N) quickly stood in front of the barrel, blocking Arne from reaching it just in time.

"Or what, Greenlander? You're going to kill me? I am not a bear and you are not a Viking." Jarl Gorm called hauntingly. His son glared at (Y/N) but remained rooted in his spot, eyes nervously flickering to Njal as the taller man protectively stood behind (Y/N). "You don't have the stomach to kill me."

"A polar bear thinks the same thing before he dies," Leif replied and with a grunt, Jarl Gorm lunged forward. Leif dodged the swing from his axe, slipping past him and using the mast to block Jarl Gorm's swing before he sprung out, digging his knife into the belly of the man. Leif stared him in the eyes as Jarl Gorm gasped and whimpered, digging his knife deeper and deeper. Arne whipped his head around to look at his father, staggering slightly and swallowing thickly.

"When I pull this out, you will be dead. Before I do, tell your men what you see." Leif demanded, turning the man to look forward. 

With one last dying gasp, Jarl Gorm spoke before collapsing on the ground, "England." 

"Anyone else wishes to join Jarl Gorm?" (Y/N) questioned loudly, staring at Arne and raising a brow at him. When the blonde turned away from him and slumped back down in his seat, he looked over each Viking, watching them avert their eyes and shake their heads. (Y/N) turned his attention back onto Arne, gaze lingering on him before he hummed. "Good. Now, get to rowing." 

Once everyone settled back down into their spots, (Y/N) and Leif dragged Birger to the middle of the boat beside Jarl Gorm. Despite their faults, (Y/N) was certain they'd find themselves feasting with whichever faith they chose to believe in, old or new. Leif returned to the steering oar and settled down, appearing unphased by what had occurred. (Y/N) placed his hand on his shoulder briefly before stepping up and leaning against the pow, watching the cliffs grow closer until a horn sounded off in the distance. Turning his head, he spotted ships appearing through the fog.

Jarl Olaf's ship neared them first, tilting so it could brush past their boat safely. Perplexed faces greeted them, confusion only intensifying upon seeing the two bodies. Following the ship, King Canute's sailed beside them and came to a slow stop, allowing Harald to step onto the ledge and board their ship. Harald paused, gazing down at Birger with a saddened frown. He climbed down, briefly stopping to rest his hand on the chest of his friend before approaching the brothers. (Y/N) crossed his arms as he watched Harald walk toward them, meeting his gaze briefly. Harald placed his hand on Leif's arm, features softening slightly.

With an approving nod, he looked at them. "Vikings."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #vikings valhalla x you #vikings valhalla x male reader #vikings valhalla #vikings valhalla x y/n #vikings #harald sigurdsson x y/n #harald sigurdsson x you #harald sigurdsson x male reader #harald sigurdsson x reader #harald sigurdsson #leif eriksson #freydis eriksdotter

[riise-my-anngel]

Rabbit Hole of Sin

Pairing: Simeon x Female Reader

Length: 3.2k

Warnings: Vauge descriptions of off screen violence, implied polyamorous relationship between you and the demon brothers, internal feelings of spiritual doubt

Notes: Remember when you can kiss Simeon in lesson 52-17? What if I wrote Simeon having an existential crisis over it because I love mid corruption conflict in him?

There was little Simeon could do to stop himself. As if the closer the train came to it’s destination, the more desperate his resolve felt. Most of the company, two eccentric demons and a precious young Luke who was as bad at pretending he didn’t enjoy their company, as Mammon was to Luke’s company. A bubble of fun between angel and demons that once upon a time felt an impossible.

Simeon wasn’t lying that day in the brothers study. That he, and so many, never thought their kind could co exist like this again. For thousands of years their kind were in the midst of a never ending battle with the Devildom. Blood scattered across each of their worlds, and humans trapped between wars that shouldn’t have anything to do with them. But they suffered regardless, and maybe if they didn’t, Simeon wouldn’t have found his way to this moment.

Guilt weighed on his shoulders for longer then most could imagine, and the ones who knew about it did nothing to stop the inevitable. Of all his brothers, there was only one who would have seen, understood, even cared about that guilt beyond scolding him for such a transgressive thought. One who took such detours in mentality of loyalty serious enough to lead him to war, and once he was gone there was none left who would dare tell Simeon it was okay to feel any of this.

Guilt of just letting humans suffer the collateral of war they had no comprehension of, turned into guilt at not doing more to mend the bridge between them and angels, leading to the guilt of watching his own kind die in a civil war and doing nothing to stand up for what he already felt was right. Instead Simeon watched, saw the death of the one angel who was punished for doing exactly what Simeon wanted to do now.

Spending thousands of years on the side, forced to watch and never act. Told his guilt and emotions were betraying his loyalty and needed to be tossed aside. Angels weren’t humanity’s guardians of peace and faith. No, they were all created to be fathers soldiers. And soldiers, didn’t question authority.

Yet, here Simeon was. Realizing what kind of guilt Lilith felt about doing exactly what they were always warned against, and even moreso realizing how little she could have done to stop herself. Because Simeon couldn’t stop himself either.

The little gap between train cars was decorated with a fine metal railing, space for perhaps four people at most and not typically used for more then workers to pass between. Mammon and Satan had dragged Luke up to the roof using one of these cars maybe an hour ago and Simeon hadn’t found the strength to follow.

Instead, he had been leaning against the railing, green eyes sharp and bright as they looked out into the night passing almost too quickly by to appreciate. Forearms resting on the tops as he sunk deeper into those feelings, when you had come across him.

He wasn’t terribly surprised you weren’t sharing in the good spirits such an experience gave Satan. In a way, yes he was shown something of his own mind but he wasn’t fooled enough to think it was about either you or him. It was a vision of truth for the demon who’d never known such a life as they did. A story spinning a tale that he always was destined to fit amongst his brothers even when they were of different kind.

It wasn’t really for Simeon, and it wasn’t for you either. But he didn’t need a vision of magic tricking him into seeing what it was he wanted, what tormented him and what could fix that. It was the stunning beauty that shined from everything inside your beauty and around it. The kindness without a hint of suspicion or pity that he dreamed of every night no matter how hateful of himself waking up from it felt.

He remembered the first time he ever saw you, new in the halls of R.A.D but dripping with a lonely fear that you had no one to turn to with. It was over in that very moment for the remaining resolve he had passably maintained since the Great Celestial War. It was all over, because he knew what he felt looking at you, was exactly the look they all saw in Lilith’s eyes. Luke was beside him at the time, barley catching a breathless, “Oh,” from the older angel before catching his gaze.

Only Luke mistakened it. “Didn’t one of those demons get assigned to watch her, they aren’t doing a very good job are they?”

Simeon almost didn’t respond. Eyes not moved nor blinked from you, “I suppose not.” Luke just got worked up even more, but everyone had places to be and they’d meet her later on anyways. Simeon would make sure of it.

But the way you looked at him now, how gentle you pressed him knowing something wasn’t right and how much you just wanted him to be okay. What could he even tell you? That it wasn’t just seeing the brothers together and happy that hurt, it was seeing them so close to a time right before he lost them.

Before the weight of pain and guilt hurled him into a feeling that’s never truly left. How even in a vision, your hearts all belonged to each other and how normal it was for it to be that way. Did it hurt to know that you were destined for them, even in their angelic forms? Or did it hurt that this vision showed him the truth of his own feelings.

That he didn’t just lose his brothers, he was losing himself to the very thing his brothers loved in the exact way that lost them their dear sister. Was the pain of what life was before, or was the pain that they’ve found happiness where he only has fallen further. Even moreso now.

It wasn’t just the Ring of Light that forced Michael’s hand. Ripping away parts of Simeon’s very being, a pressure on his heart as he blocked more and more of Simeon’s power away from his control. Michael was smart, he knew that Simeon wouldn’t have given that ring to anyone. No. Stealing such an artifact, something that Michael had held onto with his own pain and guilt, and giving it to a human just as they sacrificed themselves.

Such an action, looked far too much like Lilith in his eyes. Simeon did it out of love.

Love for his once brothers was one thing. Not willing to watch your pacts be destroyed, something that despite their words of affirmation, meant the world to each of the demons. Losing such a bond wasn’t fair and they did nothing to deserve having that taken away. Saving Lucifer’s life wasn’t even the hard choice either. He wouldn’t let anyone bring him to harm like that. They were brothers once, if not now in truth, then somewhere deep in their hearts.

But you? Simeon knew what you would do. Your love was the most powerful thing about you, so much so that your angelic rooted magic almost didn’t matter. You would protect them, and you would never choose yourself if the cost was killing another. Especially Lucifer. No, Simeon knew what the night dagger required and he knew what you would do.

If the world was at stake, you would do whatever you needed, but if the answer was them or your life?

You chose your life, ending the source of the destruction rather then destroy what led to the ring’s creation. And Simeon refused it. He refused that ending for you, it was worse then what Lilith did maybe. She fell in love, so did Simeon. But Lilith wasn’t the one who took such a martyrdom from your fate and altered your course forever. No, only he did that.

And that was the love that got him in trouble. That was the love that forced Michael to keep Simeon’s abilities away from his reach. Simeon let his love interfere with the human fate to such a degree that he thinks perhaps the only reason Michael didn’t drag him into his fathers presence to be obliterated from existence was mere shock. That one of their own after everything was capable of letting such romantic emotions sway their actions in a way their father had refused to do in centuries.

The Celestial Realm had long been trying to let go of interfering so severely into human affairs, so for Simeon to give you The Ring of Light? Fathers last reminder of what happened to his favourite son? Stolen from the safekeeping of Michael and given to a human who was willing to die to protect that very favourite child?

Well, honestly it all made Simeon’s head spin. You tried to kill yourself to protect Lucifer and everyday he saw you, he could see it in your eyes. The worry that maybe you should have. And he hated it. He hated that doubt, because Simeon gave you that chance of life uncaring as to if it would cost him his.

But then you hugged him. And he knew why he wasn’t dropped to his knees in front of father and stripped of his wings in such an event it would leave the floors bloody before being cast into nothing.

Because this was supposed to be the punishment. Force him to the human world, see you, and feel the shame of what he was giving up for.

But it didn’t work. Did it father?

You were so warm in his arms, much like the brothers he stood tall and large against your smaller human self. Your head tucked so perfectly against him that his chin could rest at the top of your head as he held you as tight as you did him. He was supposed to be feeling guilty that he was letting a human take away what made him an angel.

You however, only gave him the hope that maybe one day, the guilt he had been carrying for thousands of years already could be eased away in your gentle touch. He understood why Lilith refused to stop seeing the human, he understood why despite the consequences for herself, she allowed father to imprison her rather then give them up.

Only there was no Lucifer to bravely free Simeon from his cell, no Lucifer in the Celestial Realm to fight for whats right instead of what his duty was for the first time in their lives. There was no one up there to fight for Simeon, so why should he care about returning.

There was comfort in the way you hugged him that he would be refused the second he returned to his once home. Why should Simeon want to go back, atone for his sins and drop to his knees and plead to father to return his powers to his control. You didn’t care if he had those powers, you cared about him on the inside.

So he did exactly what he wasn’t supposed to do. Spoke aloud the one thing that in his fathers eyes couldn’t be swept under the rug. “I’d like to kiss you right now..”

It wasn’t really a question, but you didn’t really answer either. He could see your breathe pause, a need in your eyes that mixed with the softness that he previously had only ever seen directed towards the brothers. You were a timid little lamb sometimes, though.

You leaned in, hesitating to close such a gap. Simeon suspected for more the one reason, how the brothers would feel about such an action. Which there was little conflict in his mind. Were you to truly let him him, Simeon may have to discuss it with Lucifer, well fight more was a better word. Time had only made the mans pride worse but Simeon was as stubborn as Lucifer was prideful. And deep down, both men could feel the pull that was once there as angelic brothers. Lucifer wouldn’t accept anyone else having your heart, but Simeon might just make a case to slip in.

But more importantly, you knew it had to be his choice. Simeon couldn’t let you choose for him, he had to do it himself. Take the final step that was unforgivable.

Slowly, Simeon slid one hand up the side of your neck. Gently holding you in place to tilt up, his thumb trailing over your cheek as he leaned down nudge his nose gently against yours. Eyes already fluttered shut, he could hear how much your heart pounded and it only made the guilt melt more.

You were nervous to kiss him, and Simeon liked it. What could be less angelic then that?

Very slowly he hovered over your lips, green eyes bright as he looked at you for as long as he could handle before his too slid shut as he closed the distance. Pressing his lips to yours.

Your lips were as warm as your soul and as soft as your heart. He felt so much at once it overwhelmed him. But with nowhere else to put it, he buried the feeling in a kiss. He had no practice and yet it seemed he didn’t need too. You followed his touch, his lead, let Simeon guide how he kissed you and it consumed him. His other hand sliding just under the fabric of your shirt and wrapping around to your back he pulled you into his chest.

Your palms moving to rest on his own, one staying close to his own heart as different as they were while the other hand slid up his neck. Sending shivers down his own spine at the sensitive touch while you wrapped it behind him, fingers so soothingly toying with the ends of his hair. His hand on your jaw was a little less kind then before at such a feeling.

His hand on your back a pressing you into him a little further. His kiss harder, rougher and it could have made him laugh at how his father would dare tell Lilith to give something like this up to go back to such a demanding, distant existence.

The hand on your jaw loosened a bit, enough that Simeon could dance over your hair and firmly press the back of your head to keep your breathless lips attached to his. He’d kiss you until you passed out if he had a little less sense. The brothers love for you made sense, he felt all of then.

Greed to take more and more of your kiss for himself, Envy that the seven of them had you in even more ways then this and so much more freely. Wrath for his father and Michael to dare tell them that angels weren’t allowed to feel this kind of closeness. Gluttony for the sweet taste of your lips and how much like honey you reminded him of. Sloth because honestly he could do nothing for the rest of his life and be content like this.

Pride that you still had room in that pure heart of yours for him. But most of all, he for a brief moment, understood what it was that made it so hard for Asmodeus to keep away from you. Lust burned through his veins and lit like a wildfire at the tiny sound of a whine.

Simeon hadn’t even realized how right he was gripping your skin under the shirt, hadn’t noticed how he had wanted to be so close to you, he bit your bottom lip begging for you to let him in. Your whine was full of such an innocent need for more. It made his cock twitch, the lust screaming at Simeon to turn you in his arms. Move you into your single room and keep you there until either the run rose or the brothers demanded you back.

But, you were still just his little lamb. And no amount of corruption the brothers gave and took from you and your body, you still were kind and soft inside your heart. And Simeon couldn’t just give into all of that without even thinking. He may be teetering on the edge of no longer an angel but he wasn’t a demon. Not yet at least.

So he pulled away. Pressing one last small kiss to your lips, watching you struggle to even breathe again and take a moment longer then him to even open your eyes. Simeon dreamt of what that would look like, waking up beside him in his bed, nothing but a sheet over both of your bodies but this was good too. Better even, because your lips swollen and slightly more red from his bite?

This was better because it was real.

Simeon couldn’t even hear himself speak at first. He didn’t make sense, and he didn’t even know what he could be saying to you. He had to pause, collect himself. Letting his hand on the back of your head slide down to the other side of your waist, holding you too him and your foreheads gently pressed together.

“Just looking at you makes my heart pound.” Your own palms slid back down to rest on his chest, no doubt feeling it beneath them. “Suddenly, I want to abandon all inhibition and tell you exactly how I feel.”

Now wasn’t really the time, there was too much on both your sides of the tracks to deal with before he had any right to barge in on your love. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t prepare you that it’s coming.

Maybe he should tell you he loves you. It’s easy, it’s the truth, and it doesn’t require making the pain of returning to life from such a sacrifice hold more weight then already burdened your very being.

Simeon let you go though. Mammon and Satan held your heart in the ways Simeon wanted, and he would never take your time away from them.

Or Luke for that matter. You were as much a sister to Luke as any other true angel was. He’d want to spend time with you before returning home as well. And he wanted you too, it’s something he knew without a shadow of a doubt is part of what made Lucifer fall so deeply in love with you.

How much you could love in so many ways, how gentle you were at all times with them and their emotions and wanted nothing but the best of their lives to be in front of them. Lucifer adored that about you, and so did Simeon.

But he shook the thought off. Lucifer wasn’t going to be an easy discussion when he broaches that subject. He still was a demon after all, and if there ever was a more possessive once then him Simeon would be amused to find them.

Maybe, never returning home would be alright. Michael could strip away everything that made him an angel and cast him down to whatever depths human or otherwise. But as long as it gave Simeon the chance to kiss you once more, maybe it would be worth the suffering.

Simeon went to bed before anyone else that night, but still didn’t truly sleep.

Too consumed with the wonder of which sin consumed Lilith’s love when it was her? Because as little as Simeon would admit it to anyone else, he couldn’t deny that the buzz on his lips that made him still feel as if your kiss was right there.

Lust truly felt like a rabbit hole of sin for a fallen angel.

#obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon x mc #obey me simeon #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #simeon obey me #obey me imagine #obey me Simeon imagine

[blood-injections]

Some Weird Doctor Death/Phoenix Witch related headcanons

He’s called Doctor Death Defying for a reason, he survived the helium wars and he continues to survive in the zones despite being a disabled veteran and staying mostly out of the fight. They say he has a deal with the witch, that he’s actually been ghosted many times but just keeps returning.

-He doesn’t actually have a deal with the witch, she’s just an old friend. There wasn’t a Phoenix Witch until the zones came to be and the Helium Wars were fought. There was a woman that Doctor D fought with that was one of the first killjoys to die and she was so brave and passionate and when she died and found her spirit haunting the battlefield she decided to become a guide to those that followed her. During the wars she became a battlefield ghost story from soldiers that nearly died and swore they saw this diety. She became known as Mother War and when the wars ended that story was forgotten and as the younger generation took up the fight and started seeing her she became known as the Phoenix Witch.

-He alone can talk to her, that’s how he always knows the bad news as soon as it happens, how he can broadcast the traffic and say what killjoys have been ghosted moments after it happens.

-He’s a bit of a cryptid or urban legend because lots of joys, especially the younger ones, think he’s a ghost or spirit haunting the airwaves because they’ve never met or seen him before, only heard him. He’s talked about in a similar air to when people talk about the Phoenix Witch, like he’s something mysterious and unknown or out of their ability of understanding. Doctor D thinks his ghostly status is hilarious, especially whenever Cherri complains about joys not believing that he knows him

-If you tune to the AM radio there’s no stations except for a scratchy weather station from Battery City, but there are strange noises in the static and if you drive around the zones the noises turn into whispers as you seemingly get closer to the broadcasting source. The whispers are said to be the radios picking up the Witch as she talks to ghosted killjoys and guides them on their way. But if you follow the sounds to the place where the whispers are clearest, loud enough over the static to sometimes make out words and piece together conversations, you’ll find that you’re outside Doctor Death’s radio station.

-When he really does die and Cherri takes over the radio, he announces a “Doctor D’s Ghost Hour” just like how Doctor D once announced Cherri Colas Poetry Corner and let him take over the radio for a little while. Everyone expects it to be an hour of silence, maybe as a memorial, or maybe it’s an hour of telling stories about him. When Doctor D’s voice actually comes on, however, people think Cherris playing old recorded tapes of him. But he’s not, it’s exactly what it’s titled as.

#doctor death defying #dr d posting #the phoenix witch #my chemical romance #danger days #ttlotfk #mcr danger days #mcr #killjoys #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #the fabulous killjoys #corvidscrap

[dootznbootz]

I went on tiktok to just watch some silly Odysseus videos but then I mostly saw people going like "Yeah, maybe Odysseus cried on Calypso' island every day but honestly he had that coming after what he did Achilles and Patroclous/Circe!!!" and "Everything that happens in Odyssey is deserved cuz he took Patrochilles to war!!!" and "I feel so bad for Circe and Calypso and Penelope, they deserved better!!!"

For fucks sake I beg you, read anything different from Millers bs and like educate yourself- And please stop goddamn saying that rape victim. deserved it.

Circe probably didn't give a flying fuck, Calypso is a rapist and abuser and Penelope deserved everything she wanted and SHE WANTED ODYSSEUS

I think I've had enough internet for today, imma go wash my eyes with bleach. Anyways sorry for ranting here, i hope you don't mind it lmao

It's alright. I absolutely understand the vents about the whole thing. :'D No one deserves to be a victim of such a thing no matter WHAT they've done. I hope your eyes are okay after the bleach

Like Odysseus does so many fucked up things but Calypso and Circe? He is the victim. Period. It's very clear that Odysseus is in extreme distress on Ogygia. And Circe wasn't some sort of FwB situation. There's fear and numbness in the language he uses when talking about it. There's so much victim blaming and it SUCKS.

While back then it probably wouldn't be considered SA but now? It clearly is.

Even then, Odysseus' journey was kind of about "temptation" or just straight up "Die or get out of my sea." From Poseidon. "I don't want you in my waters so I'm gonna try and give you things that will keep you on land or just kill you."

Immortal goddesses wanting you would be many people's dream come true but not for Odysseus. And I think that's the point. His determination, how he clawed his way back into the arms he never wanted to leave in the first place, is incredible. Many people would've given up and just started a new life but he never would because no life he could ever create would compare to the life he had before. Even if it's different, it's what he's always wanted.

He literally tells Calypso "I'm not stopping until I'm home. I don't care if I suffer more until I do. I'm going home."

“Mighty goddess, do not be angry with me over this. I myself know very well Penelope, although intelligent, is not your match                                          to look at, not in stature or in beauty. But she’s a human being and you’re a god. You’ll never die or age. But still I wish, every moment to get back to my home,                                                       to see the day of my return. And so, even if out there on the wine-dark sea some god breaks me apart, I will go on— the heart here in my chest is quite prepared to bear affliction. I’ve already had so many troubles, and I’ve worked so hard                                  through waves and warfare. Let what’s yet to come be added in with those.”

(Book 5, Johnston)

Circe's a goddess and what happened is nothing like Dionysus and Ariadne and Apollo and Hyacinthus for example. Circe never gave Odysseus a crown of stars and he would never go out of his way to kill 120 people for bothering her. They did not love each other and he can't refuse as she's a goddess.

If you interpret them sleeping together the entire year,(It's only explicitly said that they had sex once so that's what I go with personally.) that doesn't mean he was happy with it! Even then, the whole situation is not what a healthy FwB should look like! I'm asexual and even I know that no one in a FwB situation should have to BEG in any way that basically says "Please let me go or kill me" with supplication!!! The fact that he leaves so quickly he forgets one of his men? The fact that during Elpenor's funeral, he doesn't greet Circe himself? He was avoiding her. Wouldn't he want to get "one last night together" during Book 12 if they were fwb? 🙄

It's bonkers to me that people hate him for being a "cheater" when A.) having multiple lovers wasn't uncommon in Ancient Greece, and B.) the two people he is explicitly said to have "cheated" with, weren't his choice. He wasn't actively searching for pretty women either!!!

As mentioned, while it was common for men to have many lovers, Odysseus never had any listed unlike some of the other men. (not bashing any of them. I'm just making a point in comparison.) He also has no other children besides Telemachus in Homer's works. There's no evidence of him having other lovers other than speculation. (funny enough, I once read somewhere that the reason why Odysseus is so mean is because he doesn't "bond" enough with the other soldiers. 😂)

Does that mean he didn't have other lovers? Technically, Nope! It's just never explicitly stated either way. He has slaves but none were ever said to be concubines or that he sleeps with them. He has deep bonds with his fellow soldiers but that doesn't mean he sleeps with them. That doesn't mean people can't write or talk about him doing so even though it's not mentioned! Just like it also means that someone can write him not doing so as there's nothing that says it either way in Homer's Works! :D

It's fucked up when people say "He didn't try to leave Calypso enough" or something of the like. It just tells you how A.) they didn't read the Odyssey or have piss on the poor reading comprehension or B.) ...you should probably stay away from that person...

With Circe though??? I can understand the confusion but digging deeper and looking at the text, he wasn't having a good time. Or at the very least was walking on Eggshells the whole time. I hate bringing up that essay over and over again but like...I literally wrote everything there.

I also don't like how people take Circe's morally gray-ness away from her. Let her do something fucked up to be fucked up!!! Let her traumatize Odysseus!

Idk, I kind of hate that I'm "known" for this but I relate to this idiot asshole a lot and it means a lot to me that his story, despite what happens to him, has a happy ending :'D

#Thank goodness I don't have tiktok >:) #I wish there was a way to like. have anonymous posts? because I made that PTSD post to show how him refusing to be bathed #by Nausica's maids and him choking Euryclea and was giving reference to make a point but I wish I wasn't like. Known for this??? #but like... I HAVE something to say. Having specific knowledge of some things just...really makes it clear in what happened that I don't #think others have considered. #And I was afraid if I was “vague” then people would say “You're just saying that to get sympathy points” and I didn't want to deal with #that :'D plus like in his outbursts I saw myself you know? #I just kept thinking “oh shit. I KNOW what you're doing because I did it too aAAAAAHHHHHHHHh” #I relate to Helen too but in a way. The Odyssey shows her “HEALED” (which fuck yeah!!! YESSS!!!😭) it doesn't show the #PTSD in the same way as she's had many years to recover. Watching it happen in “real time” for Odysseus was...really nice. #i said it before but the Odyssey feels REAL compared to the “girlboss queen slay” shit. Him tryiing to force himself into normalcy #only to act out is...yeah. #save me morally gray circe #ask #anon #Mad rambles #tw sa #tw ptsd #tw sex assault #anti madeline miller #anti circe #essay