ireblongstuff

[ireblongstuff]

Daenerys + Mastermind

Taylor Swift Writing Challenge: Mastermind

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Daenerys Targaryen | #taylor swift writing challenge | AO3

synopsis: Daenerys had to confess something to you, a sin that she carried alone for to long, but little did she know it wouldn't surprise you.

warnings: none.

Your city was liberated by her. The chain breaker. The conqueror. The mother of dragons. She saved your people, and after it she stayed to rule them. Daenerys brought justice to masters and workers: for some it means justice, to some it means care. They called her Mhysa.

Your master died during the revolt. She agonized, suffered until her last failed breath, and bled into the expensive sheets. You watched it. You didn't kill her, the other slaves did, but you watched every second. You were loyal to Daenerys even before knowing her.

Daenerys didn't kick the workers out of her new castle. She employed them, with fair contracts. And as the old palace master's seamstress, Daenerys gave you new and fair contract. She wanted you to sew her clothes. And so you did.

At first, your only interactions were when you needed to take new measurements and test the size of the pieces. As she was trying a blue summer dress, her serious expression made you swallow. "How did you learn to sew?"

With a pin, you marked the places you should press. The first time you marked her clothes with Daenerys using it, you were shaking the whole time. So scared of hurting her. 'My mother taugh me, as her mother taugh her." You don't shake anymore.

Daenerys spoke again as you knelt down to measure the hem. You saw her curling her toes. "Would you teach me?"

You bit your lip. "It would be a honor."

From the very first moment Daenerys saw you, something burned inside her. A new flame took over her entire body. She's a dragon, and you lit a fire inside her.

She can remember. You paralised, watching your old master dying, enable to do anything but stare. There was some sense of relief on your face, but she saw your hands shaking. You remind her of herself.

Daenerys would lever let chance determinate her path. You see, all the wisest woman had to do it this way. Society says women were born as pawn in every lover's game, but now Daenerys knows the truth: women were born to plan.

So, yes, everything was a choice. To keep your job, to change your quarters, to make weekly tests, to have you teaching her sew. None of it was accidental. Every unassuming touch, every supper with the employees, every second you spent talking to her about dressmaking, working to your last master, your life before her.

Daenerys heard songs about love. They didn't do justice to you.

When you played her, it was Daenerys idea. When you kissed her, it was Daenerys idea. When you went to bed with her, it was Daenerys idea. When you loved her, it was Daenerys idea. When you cried, it was Daenerys idea. When you stayed by her side, it was Daenerys idea.

Daenerys is the wind in every free-flowing sails. And she's the liquor in your cocktail.

But deep down she knew this lie-truth wasn't going to last. That she couldn't plan without feeling guilty. What wouldn't you think when you found out about everything she's done? What would you think of her?

That wasn't the first time she planned everything around her, but it was the first time she felt the need to confess. It felt like a sin. Like something you wouldn't forgive.

"Love is always a story about how once upon a time, the planets and the fates and all the stars alligned" Daenerys laid the groundwork. "Two people end up in the same room at the same time."

You left the glass on the bedside table and crawled closer to her. Your silence was a plea for her to continue.

"But what if I told you none of it was accidental?" Daenerys held your hand. She needed your touch to continue. "And the first night that you saw... nothing was gonna stop me."

And Daenerys would keep talking. She really would. She had a whole speech. But Daenerys saw a wide smirk on your face. You knew the entire time.

"A love based on chance. Mathematical chaos", you didn't try to hide your smile. "It' seen like a boring story."

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[ireblongstuff]

I'm trying my luck one more time :D After all, the previous two I picked were good. :) Q and 10? And thank you for doing this!

I'm glad you liked them!

Q: Daenerys

10: "You're gonna regret that." "F- I already do."

Wheel of Tropes: Accidentally Married

You really don't know how it happened. Really. You weren't that drunk or anything. So how had you ended up married to Daenerys?! You blamed Daario. He had been the drunken one who brought the septon in. For some reason, he thought it was good idea to playfully have you and Daenerys recite marriage vows.

So here you were, married to your best friend and queen. The two of had figured it out when you woke up in bed together that morning. The septon had confessed to everything so now you were waiting for Daario to wake and make his way in.

It didn't take long before he appeared, looking worse for wear. He froze upon seeing the unamused faces of you and Daenerys. "You are going to regret what you did," you told him, arms crossed over your chest.

"Ugh, F- I do already." You rolled your eyes. "Not your hangover, Daario. Your little joke. As it happens, Daenerys and I ended up married for real." Daario's eyes widened. "What?" You nodded.

"Fortunately for you, I don't mind being married to Y/N, but there will be consequences for you." You felt your face heat up when she said that and looked at her. That was going to be a great conversation for later.

[ireblongstuff]

secretly dating rhaenyra targaryen would include...

Secret: As the heir to the Iron Throne Rhaenyra had already been betrothed to Laenor Velaryon. They had an agreement, one most wouldn’t accept or understand, but you did. Laenor was the only one aware of your relationship and he supported it wholeheartedly. While they kept up appearances and had some form of love for each other, Rhaenyra’s heart only really belonged to you. Both of you often talked about your dreams of being together openly, but you knew that could never be.

Affection: In private Rhaenyra was beyond affectionate with you. She always wanted to be close to you, showering you with hugs, held hands and kisses. In public, she couldn’t help but allow her hand to brush yours from time to time. She needed that touch, no matter how small.

Family: Rhaenyra happily included you in any family activities she could. She wanted you to have a close relationship with the ones she loved most (besides you). The two of you would often spend time playing with her children and she adored your ability to be goofy with them. Her kids loved you and her father saw you as family as well, often questioning Rhaenyra about where you were when you weren’t by her side.

Comfort: Whenever Rhaenyra was upset, whether it be because of a loss or the whispers about her being unworthy of the throne, she would often come to you for comfort. The way you held her and reassured her meant the world. There was nobody in the whole of Westeros that could calm her down quite like you could.

————

AN: Here’s another ‘would include’! I hope you all enjoy this one. I’m really having fun doing these short little pieces 🥹🫶🏻

[ireblongstuff]

ᝰ.ᐟ point of impact

| gamora x reader. ~1k words. fluff, comfort. alphabet soup G.

masterlist. | oneshot masterlist. | alphabet soup.

You never expected her to look at you like that.

Not after all the fights you'd barely survived side by side, not after the sharp silences and tight-lipped sarcasm traded in between debriefings. Not after learning the hard way, that Gamora kept her heart hidden somewhere deeper than most people knew how to reach. And certainly not after the mission that left you limping through the Milano’s corridor with a cracked rib and grime still dried under your nails, with more adrenaline than sleep in your system.

But she did. She looked at you like something had shifted.. maybe not in her, maybe not even in you, but in the space between. You felt it like gravity, like the subtle but inarguable weight of something pulling you forward.

You’d been her teammate for a while now, long enough to read her moods in the angles of her shoulders, and long enough to know when she was carrying a memory too painful to name or when she was just tired of pretending to be unaffected. You never pushed. You never had to. Gamora didn’t offer pieces of herself easily, but she respected those who didn’t try to take what wasn’t given.

That was how things started, really. It wasn't with sudden sparks or grand declarations, but with that quiet, shared recognition. A respect for the walls you each had up, and a deeper respect for the rare moments you both chose to lower them.

After that last mission, the silence between you in the ship wasn’t tense. Just exhausted. You sat across from her in the common room, both of you nursing half-drained medpacks and clumsy bandages, with the hum of the engines and the occasional clink of metal be the only sound for a while. It was strange, how comfortable the quiet could be.. how it settled not like distance, but like understanding.

She didn’t talk much, not unless she had to, but there were things she did that said more than words ever could. The way she shifted the ration tray toward you without asking. The way her eyes flicked to your side when you winced, like she was already cataloging damage, and already calculating solutions. The way her shoulders relaxed a fraction when you met her gaze and didn’t look away.

You weren’t close, at least, not by anyone else’s definition. But closeness had never been the goal. Survival was. Functioning under fire. Covering each other’s blind spots. You were rivals, sometimes -- sparring partners who trained until the sweat ran slick, and the bruises bloomed across your arms like fading maps of something unspoken -- but even when she was trying to knock you flat, there was a strange trust in the way she moved. Like she knew you’d get back up, and she knew you wouldn’t break.

You didn’t realize how badly you wanted her to look at you like this, with something like softness buried under the usual severity. Not until she did.

And once it happened, you couldn’t stop noticing it.

It was in the way her eyes lingered on you when you were talking to someone else, brow slightly furrowed like she was trying to understand something she hadn’t yet decided to name. It was in the way her voice dropped ever so slightly when she spoke only to you -- less command, more curiosity. It was in the way she watched you when you weren’t looking, only you were. You always were.

Whatever it was, neither of you acknowledged it. Not directly. That wasn’t how this worked. But things changed.

She started showing up early to training... not to lead, not to correct, just to stand in the corner of the mat and observe you with that unnerving, laser focus of hers. She didn’t speak much during those sessions, but sometimes after, when your pulse had started to slow and your breath returned to normal, she’d offer you something small. A comment. A correction. Once, a compliment so blunt and unadorned it caught in your throat like a confession.

You started noticing the little things, too. The way her armor shifted when she moved. The faint scar along the inside of her wrist, only visible when her gloves were off. The way she leaned slightly to her left side when she was bored, favoring a healed injury you suspected she’d never properly let rest. You noticed all of it. Not out of curiosity, but out of care.

And there was something there now, unmistakable, humming just under the surface. Not fragile because nothing about Gamora was fragile, but unsteady in a way that felt unfamiliar. You knew desire when you felt it, but this was something else. This was slower, and sharper... like the edge of a knife you didn’t realize you’d been walking into.

She never touched you... not unnecessarily. But one day, in the stillness after a mission, adrenaline fading and blood already starting to dry, she reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder.

It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t warm. But it was deliberate. You felt the weight of it for hours afterward, like a mark. You didn’t talk about it. You didn’t talk about any of it.

Because for all her strength, all her certainty in battle and command, Gamora had been hurt in ways most people couldn’t begin to understand. She had been hurt by hands that raised her, by people who turned survival into obedience, and love into a liability. She didn’t let herself want things easily, and if she did, she never showed it.

So you didn’t ask her to name whatever this was. You didn’t give her an ultimatum or force her hand. You just kept showing up. Steady. Consistent. Unafraid.

And slowly, she began to meet you there.

Not in declarations. Not in kisses or confessions or anything that would’ve felt like surrender, but in the way she held your gaze a second longer. The way her shoulder brushed yours in a hallway and didn’t pull away. The way she started to trust you -- really trust you --with things she hadn’t said aloud in years. Pieces of herself she usually kept hidden behind discipline and blade.

She told you once, in a voice so quiet it barely reached across the space between you, that she didn’t believe in fate. That everything she’d ever had to fight for came with a cost.

You didn’t try to change her mind. You just told her that some things were worth paying for.

And when her hand slid into yours, you didn’t say anything at all. Because sometimes the point of impact isn’t violent. Sometimes, it’s a slow shift, a silent pull, or a steady gravity that rearranges the way you stand, the way you breathe, the way you choose to stay.

And in the silence of that moment, in the absence of fear and the presence of her, you finally understood that love didn’t always need to be loud to be real.

Sometimes, it just needed to endure.

[ireblongstuff]

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[ireblongstuff]

[x] // requester: @gameloversblog // request here

IMAGINE: HARRY, HERMIONE AND RON NOT KNOWING WHERE YOU’RE FROM BECAUSE YOU’RE MULTILINGUAL AND GREAT AT IMPERSONATING ACCENTS.

“What if y/n is American or something?” Ron speculates, and Harry laughs as Hermione rolls her eyes. Your friends have been speculating for some time now about where you’re from, seeing as each time you open your mouth, you seem to have a different accent. Not to mention you speak so many languages, the trio aren’t even sure which is your native language. Even when they try to ask you directly, you always have some vague response that they can’t quite decipher. Shooting Hermione a look, Ron defensively continues, “What? I think it’s possible.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Why would he come all the way here for school when there are perfectly good wizarding schools in America?” Hermione replies, exasperated. “I reckon that y/n’s jus—”

“What are you guys talking about?” you suddenly startle your friends, appearing around the corner as the three of them exchange awkward but knowing glances. “Okay… keep your secrets then. You guys ready to go to class?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk about keeping secrets.” Ron mutters under his breath, and Harry bites back a smile.

[ireblongstuff]

A KISS AND A BANDAID

injured!peggy carter x nurse!reader

tw: blood and medical stuff? tension and a kiss!!

It was the middle of the night, and after a long, exhausting shift in the hospital, you finally settled down in bed with a book in hand and a warm cup of beautifully brewed British tea resting on the bedside table. Late-night shifts had taken a toll on you, and the taking care of patients and stress of the day left you craving a moment of peace. You were grateful to finally let your muscles relax, allowing yourself a well-deserved escape before facing another challenging shift tomorrow.

The curtains were drawn, and the soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light across the room, just bright enough for you to read the words on the pages of the book lying on your stomach. The gentle ticking of the clock tried to lull you to sleep, your eyelids growing heavy as you fought to finish the chapter. Just as you began to drift off, a sudden, loud banging at your door jolted you awake.

“Please be awake.” A weak, familiar voice called from the other side, accompanied by frantic knocking. Your heart raced as you recognised the urgency in her tone.

“I'm coming!” you shouted, annoyance mixing with concern as you threw the duvet off and rushed to the door, quickly grabbing your dressing robe. “Quit banging!”

When you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat. There stood Peggy, her usually vibrant brunette hair was tangled and matted with beads of sweat forming on her skin. She gripped her side tightly, blood seeping through her fingers, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of dread.

“Peggy?” you gasped, rushing forward to steady her as you wrapped her arm around your shoulder. “What happened?” It was almost embarrassing how quickly you recognised her, her expensive English perfume and accent betraying her even in this state.

“I fell,” she murmured, collapsing onto your couch with a wince, fatigue and pain etched across her face.

“You have to go to a hospital!” you urged desperately, your heart racing as you moved to close the door behind you before you returned to her side.

“No! No hospital,” she pleaded, tilting her head back with a whimper, applying pressure to her wound. “I have people after me. I can't go there.”

“So you came here?” you exclaimed, disbelief mingling with worry. Her condition was serious, yet here she was, making it even more complicated. You could feel a wave of frustration, but also the strong desire to protect her. “You’re better off at the hospital!”

“I said no hospital!” Peggy insisted, her voice shaky yet firm, meeting your gaze with that same intensity that always seemed to make your heart race. Even in this vulnerable state, she held a powerful presence that both intimidated and drew you in.

“Fine!” you nodded, accepting her wishes even though every instinct screamed against it. Kneeling beside her, you gently checked her pulse, your brow furrowing in concern. “Your heart rate is high but steady.” As you reached for your medical bag, you struggled to hide your worry. “What happened, really?”

As you lifted her shirt and carefully examined the wound, you hissed quietly. “I was trying to get someone,” she explained, a pained whimper escaping her lips as you began to clean away the blood. “I fell through some railing and landed on some steel bars.”

“I thought I told you to be more careful during your missions,” you chided gently, feeling a mix of frustration and protectiveness. You often felt like her mother, but it never got easier when she showed up injured, needing your help in such serious circumstances.

“I don’t need mothering,” she replied with a tired sigh, shifting slightly as you skillfully began to stitch her up.

“Then stop being restless and annoying, then I wouldn’t have to be. A kiss and a bandaid won’t always work!” You spat back, accidentally pulling the needle a little too tightly which caused Peggy, for the hundredth time today, to yelp. “Sorry.”

As you continued to tend to her, the room fell silent except for the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the sound of Peggy’s laboured breathing. “There we go,” you finally murmured, standing to dispose of the waste before returning to her with a bowl of water and a cloth.

“Thank you,” Peggy whispered, her voice softer now as you gently wiped the sweat from her forehead. “I appreciate you, even when I don’t say it. Truly.”

“I know, Pegs,” you replied with a warm smile, placing the bowl and cloth beside you. “I don’t mind you going on your missions, but it would mean alot to me if you came home safe.”

You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face and allowing yourself a moment to admire her beauty. Her stunning brown eyes sparkled even in pain, and the natural wave of her hair framed her face perfectly. Even in this dim light, she radiated an almost otherworldly beauty. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice barely above a murmur.

“Just be more careful next time,” you urged gently, maintaining eye contact, hoping she could see how much you truly care.

“You know I can’t promise that, my dear,” Peggy responded, a gentle chuckle escaping her lips, though it carried a trace of tiredsome.

“I understand, but I want you to try,” you said, offering her a warm smile as you rose to your feet. Clearing your throat, you added, “I’ll grab a pair of pyjamas for you. You’re staying in my bed tonight, i’m not letting you leaving my sight right now.”

As you turned to walk away, a weak hand wrapped around your wrist, causing you to pause and look back at the brunette. “Maybe… a kiss and a bandaid could help me feel better?” she suggested softly, vulnerability shining in her eyes.

With a sigh laced with affection, you rolled your eyes playfully before leaning down to her level. You cradled her face in your hands, your heart swelling as you pressed your lips against hers. The kiss was delicate and tender, her warm, rouge lips sending a rush of comfort through you. It had been too long since you’d shared a moment like this, especially with Peggy’s busy life often keeping her away. Finally having her here, sharing this intimate exchange, made all the waiting feel truly worthwhile.

๋࣭ ⭑🕸🦇🕸๋࣭ ⭑

AUTHORS NOTE:

ik this isnt a gross!natasha one 😔 and i know its short but i went to a world war two show today and i had the urge to write summit for peggy… plus i swear this woman gets more hate than she deserves!!

SORRY FOR NOT WRITING FOR AWHILE ASWELL!! A FOOT INJURY AND WRITERS BLOCK EATS ME OUT EVERYDAY 😨

[ireblongstuff]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ᴇᴀꜱʏ

Daenerys Targaryen x reader

Words : 1.1k+

Summary : In a world of a Targaryen, nothing but love was easy. Sometimes, even that was hard, too.

Warning (s) : mentions of violence.. this doesn’t make sense??

req by anon <3

prompt : sharing a soft smile across a crowded room.

ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || REQ POST

∵※∵

Her dress was slightly askew, hair disheveled and lips red and plump; there was little to no resistance as you dived in again, taking in the taste of her and drowning in the plethora of colours that erupted behind your eyelids before the knocks on the door became noisy enough to be of reason to let you breathe.

“You might need to answer that.” Your voice came out breathy, chest rising up and down rapidly, desperately catching air in your lungs as she, too, recovered from the heat rising in her cheeks. Daenerys paid your words no mind, however, as her arms wrapped tighter around your waist and her face found your neck to hide in, showering the exposed skin in featherlight kisses.

The rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, melting in your embrace, putty in your hands – it was something you never thought would be a sight you’d get to witness; at least, not because of you.

“Leave it be.” Daenerys mused, her mind somewhere it shouldn’t be.

“It could be of urgency.” Patience was not her greatest virtue, so it took only three boisterous knocks for Daenerys to groan and unlatch herself from your arms with great despair. Your hands reached out before she could move far, fixing her collar and smoothing out her hair, fingers brushing against her forehead to loosen the frown between her brows – she was ethereal; the real embodiment of Targaryen beauty, violet eyes, defined jawlines and silver locks flowing down her shoulders, braided in the ways of Dothraki and waived in honor of her warrior ancestors.

It was not befitting for her to hold a lover by her side in these times, yet she did so around her closest courts without much a care for their sneers and the claim of dishonor she was bringing to her name. Daenerys was no easy woman – she was a Targaryen, blood of Valyrian and widow of a Khal, mother of dragons and so many more – the silver-haired Queen would not take just anyone as her hand and beau, if you could call it that.

“Go easy on them, will you?” She didn’t nod, but her lips pressing into a thin line suggested she would consider it, if only for your honor. She would have to take more time to mend her appearance before facing the court, and who was Daenerys, if she didn’t take a chance when she saw it?

Capturing your lips once more, the Khaleesi sighed when you pulled away again, this time letting you slip away from her grip and climb over her windowsill – the edge of her lips turned down, the sight never settling right in her chest. To treat you as a secret, to show her lack of interest in public, to false her indifference upon your presence.

Even Daario Naharis would watch her retreat with heavy heart, despite never approving of her ‘fling’, the use of word often caused a fire brewing inside her that Daenerys swore she could breathe flames as scorching as her dragons.

“Send my greetings to Missandei!” With a wink, you disappeared from her view and away to your quarters, possibly to assemble a presentable attire to stand by her side – Daenerys shook her head at your antics, wondering if you were to wear white to match her gown. Best not, she thought, for it would insinuate something, surely, would it not?

The lopsided grin Missandei spared her was enough to turn her cheeks into a dark shade of pink, the translator’s brown eyes straying to the opened balcony and her unmade hair.

“Had fun, Your Grace?”

Daenerys grunted, wishing you were here to bear the humiliation with her.

↭

You weren’t there. The crowd was deranged, bellowing like crazy from the stands, as if watching people stab each other to death was of the best entertainment they could get in their lives – Daenerys wished this could be avoided, but she’d learned young, too early to become versed in the grim ways of life.

To her left, sat her supposed betrothed, the man with little brain and much arrogance in his strides. If all goes well, she would have herself married by the end of the month and her place in Mereen would be secured, as secure as one could be in the middle of riot – she hadn’t trusted the man that claimed to have had authority; she had more than him, and if the Gods were good, he would die soon.

Someone would scold her for thinking such a thought, yet there wasn’t anyone, was there?

Daenerys didn’t heed the words spewing out of his mouth, only the face of the fighters filling her field of vision and blocking any other sights – until you scurried in, taking a stance by Daario and meeting her eyes briefly. She didn’t fight the smile that stretched her cheeks and crinkled her eyes – you responded with a small grin and a bow of your head, averting your eyes to the fighting range.

You remembered distinctly the rules of the match explained in hushed whispers, catching the stare Daario was shooting your clothing that oddly matched the Queen’s – he didn’t comment on it. Smart decision, boy.

The first battles were nothing short of boring. There was a tension building in Daenerys’ shoulders from the casual beheading, spears penetrating flesh and blood spurting onto the ground – the violence had always been a constant, but it didn’t mean she was anywhere near comfortable with it.

When Jorah the Andals appeared on the arena, you knew there would be no outcome where you’d return to your chambers peacefully tonight. Daenerys cared for him more than she’d admit – the man had confessed his love for her the same day he was caught to have betrayed her from the beginning; understandably, you’d felt more resentment than sympathy for him.

“He’ll be fine.” You’d kneeled by her side, ignoring the glare he – Loraq, you believed his name was, sent with extreme fury it was starting to look hilarious on his face. Daenerys was too focused on the fact that Jorah was losing to notice the stare-off happening on her back, but her hands squeezed your own in a death grip, her previous attempt to calm down abandoned as she exhaled a little easier with your hold.

You only hoped the little gesture went unnoticed.

No one knows. Does everyone know?

They did. Their eyes followed their Queen, the other figure on her right that seemed to have taken a residence in her heart – they knew, and it was the first thing they targeted when they stroke.

Jorah had won his battle – and when his spear was impaled on a masked assailant just aiming for you, all hell broke loose.

Chaos was lurking just over your shoulder, and it erupted with a glazing shine of a knife intended for your lives.

∵※∵

you made it! thank u for reading <33 tell me your thoughts and send prayers LOL

[ireblongstuff]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ totally over it! ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anonymous ˚₊ ⊹

ft. apple white (& raven queen) x f! reader — ever after high

╰₊✧ the break-up doesn’t bother her at all anymore, it totally isn’t on her mind twenty-four-seven!┊1.1k words

contains: toxic/unhealthy one-sided relationships, obsessive/possessive behavior but not quite yandere, reader is a rebel & a charming

➤ author's note: toxic yuri, my beloved! ever after high was one of those shows where i had a crush on the girls but it didn’t click that i was sapphic yet T-T

ex girlfriend! apple white who acts like she understands when you end things with her, nodding her head while blinking back tears and agreeing to just stay as friends. her plastic smile is so close to breaking because she truly doesn’t understand it at all when she thought everything was perfect and going wonderfully. she doesn’t want to be the stereotypical ex who throws a tantrum screaming and crying while on her knees sobbing for another chance, but she certainly feels like doing it. has the previous year and a half meant nothing to you? she already had your next anniversary plans in mind all the way up to the next nine years, but all of that shattered in a single sentence. 

ex girlfriend! apple white who manages to keep herself together until she barges into briar and ashlynn’s shared dorm room, throwing herself onto their bed and crying her heart out. she can barely speak coherently between her wailing and sniffles, recounting the events that had just happened with a shaky voice as if she was telling a horror story. she doesn’t get broken up with, she’s apple white, daughter of snow white, and she was so certain you were her prince(ss) charming— why was this happening to her?

ex girlfriend! apple white whose friends sorta saw this coming. as beautiful, benevolent, and dedicated as she can be, there were some fatal flaws that made your relationship bound to fall to pieces. the first and most prevalent being your different views on destiny. despite being a daughter of the charming family, you had never wanted to be a knight or a young royal who was only known for having a nice smile, instead dreaming of living a peaceful life out in a village away from all of that. of course, royals and rebels can usually still be friends or lovers, but when apple is constantly talking about her dreams of living in a palace with you wearing poofy dresses, dainty tiaras, and being adored by crowds of thousands… it was never going to be something that was going to be happily forever after. 

ex girlfriend! apple white who won’t stop awkwardly bringing up how you aren’t girlfriends anymore for the following few weeks or so, just like how she used to bring up how raven didn’t sign the storybook of legends expect a lot more often. she also won’t stop referring to you as her girlfriend, wrapping her arm around yours and then sheepishly giggling that she forgot. it was fine the first few times and you tried your best to be patient, but after a couple dozen times, you’ve grown to be agitated. you’re trying to be nice about it since you really do want to keep her in your life as a friend because she’s a wonderful person, but she’s making it more and more difficult to even be in the same room as her. 

ex girlfriend! apple white who started stalking you obsessively to implement meticulous plans to make you jealous, running into you multiple times throughout the day looking as beautiful as a goddess with people trailing behind her with compliments and asking for her number. she’s pretending she’s fine, doesn’t care, has moved on, and is ready to mingle with other singles. she’s not staying up all night crying and bitterly reminiscing on the moments you previously shared, definitely not! she’s totally over it! 

ex girlfriend! apple white who will flirt with and kiss other girls to prove she’s over you— hell, she’s even been linking arms with daring again despite the fact that he completely fails at making her heart flutter and just makes her look good for appearances. she only does these things in front of you though in an attempt to make you care, the second you turn the corner without sparing a single look while chatting with raven, she sulks and walks off trying to think of her next move.

ex girlfriend! apple white who refuses to tell her mom about the state of your relationship. she knows she’ll figure things out eventually, it’s impossible to do so with how tightly her life is monitored to ensure perfection, but she’s hoping she can put everything back together again before snow white could tell her “i know that girl was trouble!” she still refers to you as her girlfriend whenever her mother calls, making up fake dates and such that happened to prevent suspicion. she feels so guilty lying to the queen, but she’s determined it won’t have to be like that for much longer!

ex girlfriend! apple white who throws a tantrum as soon as she’s out of public when she finds out you and raven queen are dating, spotted sharing a kiss by the lockers before classes started with the news catching on like wildfire throughout the school. whatever happened to the rule of not dating a friend’s ex?! she truly knew nothing of girl code, but that’s probably a product of social isolation as the evil queen’s daughter. raven can’t really be blamed, but the betrayal still feels like a sword in the back.

ex girlfriend! apple white who uses her influence to get information about your current status. blondie is one of her best friends and a bit of a blabbermouth, the gossip queen of the school who knows everything about everyone and is skilled at discovering whether the information is reliable or not. she’ll ask her to take down the article about your new relationship with raven under the guise of how she didn’t want either of you to get hate, but really it’s because she can’t stand seeing that stupid photo of you two together on everyone’s mirrorbook. she’ll also try to hook up with cupid to ask if she could work her magic on making you fall in love with her again, but it’s against her own ethics to break up a happy couple (maybe apple tried to steal her bows and arrows just to find out they don’t work unless you have the divine blood of eros in you after testing them out on some trolls).

ex girlfriend! apple white who is as stubborn as she is beautiful and won’t let up until you’re in her arms again. she’s crazy enough to sabotage what you have with raven, but clever enough to make herself look more like nothing more than an innocent bystander. she’s also popular enough for people to question you directly why you could have possibly broken up with someone as perfect as her while being confused when you claim you don’t need perfection. she’s infinitely creative in thinking of how to win your heart once again, one of her ideas will work one way or another— she just knows it!

request [ I’m soooo happy to see another eah writer!!! Could I request something that is like Ex! Apple White? I would like to see more toxic WLW in this fandom hahaha, maybe reader is a Charming rebel so that’s why things were ended? ]

[ireblongstuff]

Night Terrors

Daenerys Targaryen x reader

Summary : Daenerys seeks comfort when a bad night occurs.

Warning : um.. nothing?? Just comfort :’

Words : 1058

 

•°•°•°•

 

Night time hasn’t always been kind to Daenerys. Everytime she closed her eyes, she would see shadows or corpses of people she failed to save. She would hear the screams, begging for mercy of the masters she’d punished. Then it would be of the children, crying for their mothers, some of starvation, or illness.

 

The darkness in her room taunted her every night – she would see an outline of a man, covered from head to toe. He would carry a knife, or when her mind decided to be cruel, a long sword, in his hand. She feared that it would be true, somehow. Her heart is always pounding in her chest, and no matter how many breaths she took, it doesn’t make her less frightened.

 

Some nights, she would dream of home, with the red door and a lemon tree, her family somehow alive. She would bask in the sun, walk through the gardens, sneak into the kitchen to steal leftovers, and then she would see you. There isn’t one dream of her home where you weren’t present. It simply wouldn’t exist without you, she thinks.

 

Tonight isn’t any different. She had taken a bath, had dinner with you. It had been a long day of listening and fixing problems and trying to please the people. It was exhausting, but the satisfaction of seeing smiles on their faces paid it off fairly.

 

When she settled under the covers, the silence suddenly became so deafening. The moon emitted some light to her room, and a chill went down her spine at the gentle breeze blowing through her window. Two candles were lit on both sides of her bed, yet she still felt uneasy.

 

Eventually, Daenerys drifted off, her exhaustion catching up on her faster than she’d anticipated. She felt the world burning. Fire were consuming the whole city, and she stood on top of the castle, unmoving. There was the crackling of the fire as they destroyed and melted rocks, terrified screams echoing in her ears.

 

When she turned to her back, she found a faceless man holding a knife to your throat, and when he moved, your head rolled onto the floor with a heavy thud and a scream ripped through her throat. The scene changed from that of your lifeless eyes to the plain wall in her room, breath coming in pants as she tried to calm her nerves.

 

Without thinking, Daenerys got off of her bed and stood on shaky feet, not even bothering to cover herself in warmer clothes. Her feet carried her to the door located just at the end of the hallway from hers, knocking several times and waiting anxiously.

 

When the door opened, she stepped into your arms without so much as a word, sighing as she felt your warmth under her skin.

 

Your eyes widened at her actions, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you checked for intruders before closing the door slowly moving towards your bed with Daenerys still clinging to you. She looked vulnerable, and so you touched her shoulder attentively, as if she would break if you added a little more pressure.

 

You laid on your back and she followed suit, except she was laying on your chest. You stretch out and she settled between your legs, arms on either side of your body and head tucked under your chin. Tucking both of you under the covers to keep warm, you brought up your hand to caress her head, smoothing out any tangles in her hair.

 

Daenerys has never been one for physical affection in public. But little did they know, the Mother of Dragons is such a cuddle bug behind closed doors.

 

You didn’t say a word, and neither did she. One thing was concluded; she wasn’t feeling good. Possibly another nightmare. That would explain the erratic breathing and the bead of sweat on her forehead, the slight tremble in her grip on your nightgown.

 

You hummed a random tune, wrapping your other arm around her tightly, squeezing in reassurance as you felt the wetness on your shoulder, sniffles coming out of her occasionally.

 

“Never leave me.” She expressed, her voice hoarse from all the crying. You nodded, unsure of where this is coming from. She gripped your arm and lifted her head, causing your hand to fall off. “Promise me.” You frowned, was the nightmare that bad?

 

“I’ll try my best not to.” You reassured her, but it didn’t seem to be enough. “Promise. Please.” Your heart ached at her plea, “I promise.” And with that, she sighed in relief and tucked her head under your chin once more.

 

“Tell me a story.” She murmured against your chest. You chuckled, the vibrations in your chest sending a smile to the silver haired woman’s face. You hummed, contemplating on what story you should bring forward to the Queen tonight, knowing she needed the distraction.

 

“You see,” You started, shifting a little to let Daenerys adjust, finding a more comfortable position. She moved to your side and tangled her legs with yours, your arm making its way around her, the other touching hers that was draped on your stomach.

 

“There is a tale, of dragons. But they were gone. For some time.” Daenerys furrowed her brows at the start of your story, confused. You continued quickly, not giving her any time to interject. “But, one day, A beautiful girl with silver hair, brought them back from stones.”

 

Daenerys closed her eyes as she let herself be enveloped in your presence. Her mouth quirked up at certain points of your story where you exaggerated her actions, making them sound more heroic than it actually was.

 

She fell into slumber as she listened to your voice, basking in the comfort you radiated and the feel of your heartbeat against her cheek.

 

Tightening your grip on her, you trailed off as you noticed her breathing even out. Right there, you willed her tears to dry and wished her pain to go away, so she wouldn’t have these ever present scary nights where it was hard to even close her eyes.

 

Placing a kiss on her head, you breathed carefully, falling into a deep sleep yourself.

 

Daenerys didn’t wake up in cold sweat or screams anymore that night, instead she was warm and content, in a place where she knew she belonged.

[ireblongstuff]

𐑺 ˖ ࣪ ࿐ྂ DATING JOHANNA MASON | gender not specified, but fem!aligned.

johanna mason, whose preferred love language is being an asshole. (affectionately)

johanna mason, whose walls always remain up after her two experiences in the arena, but somehow crumble involuntarily when she's around you.

johanna mason, who lets you touch up the cherry red streaks in her hair, standing between your legs while you sit on the countertop, face cradled in your hands as you coat every strand of hers with the color.

johanna mason, whose eyes flicker from sharp and piercing to ever so soft as her gaze lands on you.

johanna mason, who talks of future plans with you during the games should she not survive the quarter quell, dreaming of the house you would have bought and the life you would have shared if it weren't for the corruption of the capitol.

johanna mason, who teaches you how to wield an axe, her scarred hands cradling yours as she guides you through the motions.

johanna mason, who tends a nasty gash on your arm after your attempt at wielding said axe.

johanna mason, who scolds you for attempting to use her axe and mocks your 'stupidity', as if she hadn't been totally terrified just seconds earlier.

johanna mason, who's the black cat to your golden retriever.

johanna mason, who lets you call her by all the cheesy nicknames you wish—nicknames that she would rather die than hear come from anyone else's mouth. johanna mason, who feigns disapproval of such affectionate names, but you can see the slight upturn of her lips whenever you address her by one.

johanna mason, who is constantly afraid of you leaving her, due to her snappy and impatient personality that she uses as a defense mechanism to cover up the vulnerability and trauma that lies underneath. johanna mason, who has never let you know about her insecurities, but maybe she'll let it slip as the years go by.

johanna mason, who's a total winter bug and immediately clings to you the second the temperature drops. latching onto your leg and gazing up at you with red, puffy eyes and a runny nose as she suffers through the flu, begging for you to stay with her when you try to go brew her some tea.

johanna mason, who smiles a lot more when you're around. and not her usual cynical 'i'm lowkey judging you' smile, but a quirk-lipped smirk that appears every time you enter the room.

johanna mason, who wakes up thrashing and trembling in the middle of the night, as the nightmares of her time in the capitol continue to haunt her even after she escaped. she either clings onto you for dear life, needing to feel your touch, or pushes you away completely, struggling to come to grips with her reality.

johanna mason, who holds you firmly against her when you both go back to sleep, her eyes unblinking for the first few hours because she needs the reassurance that she isn't dreaming and that you won't leave her.

johanna mason, who whispers to you in your sleep, telling you how much you mean to her because there's no way she can be this soft when you're awake.

in conclusion, johanna mason. that's it.

©heartss4val — do not steal, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is prohibited.

[ireblongstuff]

. . . late night calls .ᐟ

natasha romanoff x fem! reader. fluff!

after a hard mission, all she wants to do is talk to her girlfriend

“Did I wake you up?” The hoarse voice of Natasha Romanoff is the first thing you hear in your bleary haze, as you blink, willing yourself to wake up. You stare at the unknown number on your screen – burner phone. She wasn’t supposed to communicate with you during missions.

“. . . Huh?” you mumble. Your eyes glance over to the clock; 2:14 A.M. glares back at you, as you focus back on the voice crackling through your phone. You shake your head, before seeming to remember that she can’t see you on the other side of the line. “No,” you correct, perhaps a little too delayed. “You didn’t wake me. Been up. For a while,” you lie. She snorts. She still didn’t understand why you tried to lie to her– she was a professional spy, for god's sake. She was always going to know. Still you liked to try. 

She doesn’t comment, instead admitting, “I needed to hear your voice.” She pauses. Was that too vulnerable? Sometimes Natasha worries that you may be in love with the Black Widow the world sees, and not the broken-down, morally gray Natasha Romanoff. She was a fragmented soul, and she dreaded the day that you would gain clarity of that and take your leave. Being with an Avenger already wasn’t easy work – hell, the title had at least a decade of trauma attached to it. It probably was in the contract. Being with the Black Widow? That was more trouble than she was worth.

“I missed you too,” you responded simply, and she was thankful that you were able to read in between the lines of what she was not brave enough to say. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” she starts, and before you can reassure her, she continues, words flowing now that she had begun, “I had to exterminate a target today. He was a HYDRA agent. He had a picture of his kids in his wallet,” she confesses, voice cracking as she tries to recompose herself. “You probably think I’m being ridiculous. Having more empathy for this random man than he had for everything I stand in,” she mutters. 

“I don’t think you’re ridiculous, Natasha. I’ve never thought that,” and you can picture the way her shoulders relax at your words. She had always worried that her flaws were too varied – and her strengths too lacking. “I think you’re incredibly strong, especially to feel so much empathy over someone who was not on your side. I love you,” you tack on, almost like a reminder that she's allowed to feel with you – she’s allowed to admit things and be vulnerable and it's okay. 

She clears her throat, and your heart aches for her. Long distance truly never got easier, but absence did make the heart fonder. “When do you come home?” you offer. Natashas' window of vulnerability had closed by now. But every time, that window got a little longer (for you. The S.H.I.E.L.D. appointed therapist still didn’t even have a window). 

She hums at that, and you can hear ruffling on the other line – she liked to talk to you before bed. It was her version of long distance pillowtalk. “Should be home tomorrow night.” she answers, as a yawn escapes your lips. “You’re tired,” she notes, and there's a hint of apology in her words. 

“‘M not even tired,” you mutter in protest, “I have never yawned in my life. Swear,” you grouse, and she lets out a soft laugh at your words. Your lips curve up at that. You always liked being able to make her laugh; she didn’t laugh unless it was genuinely funny. She laughed with you quite a lot.

“You’re a liar,” she chides. “And you snore. I miss your snoring,” she admits.

“That's gay,” you mumble, head lolling against the pillow. 

“So was the phone sex we had last night?” she counters, and you both delve into giggles. Even though the two of you were apart, you can tell that she muffled her laughs in her pillow – just like you did. 

“Shut up. I need to go to bed,” you mutter, trying to change the topic. You would probably never get used to how easy it was to talk to her. “Stay on the phone. Don’t hang up”

“Needy. Have I ever hung up on you?” she asks, the indulgence in her voice ridiculously evident. “One time your phone died,” you retort, before letting out a big yawn. “Tell me about the rest of your day” Mid-way through her story, she hears a soft snore crackle through the line. “Are you asleep right now?” 

“. . .” 

If you were awake, you’d be able to visualize the fond look on her face. “Goodnight. I love you. Sleep well,” she whispers. 

[ireblongstuff]

Living Darkness

Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,117

Summary:

Warnings: Angst

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted.

"Khaleesi."

A soft voice whispers but she doesn't bother to turn around. She only squeezes her eyes shut at the intruding noise. Trying to block out everything that was around her.

Trying to block out the memories.

Every time she opens her eyes she was met with a constant replay of events that she could never change. Taunting her for her failures.

Every time she hears whispered words as she passes she hears the sound of Viserion's cry. The sound of your scream when he wouldn't pull up. The sound of her own when she saw what was happening.

Every time she blinks she sees your broken body falling from the sky. A crimson trail following in your path. She could see Viserion diving towards you. His cream colored scales stained red.

Every time she closes her eyes to sleep she's met with broken ice. Ice that quickly turned from blue to red.

"Daenerys."

Her mind keeps replaying everything over and over again. Telling her what she already knew. What she's known since you disappeared underneath the ice.

She had failed.

She had failed you.

She had failed Viserion.

She had failed everyone.

"Dany."

Everything she has worked for meant nothing now that you were gone. You were her light, shining brilliantly like a flame. Your constant warmth and love exuding from you igniting her with a passion of a thousands suns. One of the reasons Viserion had chosen you as his rider. Your shared gentleness a clear indicator in the potential bond.

Despair starts to fill her heart at a rapid pace. Paralysing her within it's dark embrace. Trapping her in a constant repeat of events that she would do anything to change.

Causing her to remember everything with perfect detail.

All the events that transpired before. Everything that could have been changed to stop her light from being taken.

-----

The plan was set, everything was going into motion. With each step she was closer and closer to claiming her birthright. Nothing was going to stop her now. The sound of soft laughter interrupts her thoughts but it brings a warm feeling to her heart.

Daenerys turns her violet gaze towards yours. Your beautiful eyes sparkling underneath the sun. Your hair getting tousled by the wind. She couldn't help the smile that spreads across her lips at the sight of you. Watching as you play with Viserion, whose eyes were sparkling with delight. Both of your movements in sync with one another. A true testament to how close you two have gotten over time. A sight that brings the same warm feeling back to her heart.

Her earlier thoughts returning to her but with a new addition. That when she took back the throne she would finally make you her wife. She would finally show the world that you were hers and she was yours.

With the plan underway she was that much closer to her goal.

For a better life not only for the people of Westeros, but the both of you.

Her forever with you coming closer and closer as each moment passed.

A thought that brings a lightness to her heart and soul, and a smile to her face.

-----

If only I had stopped it. I should have listened to her when she was trying to talk me out of it. I should have known that she was right, Daenerys thinks, her mind crying out everything that she should have done. I should have protected her and Viserion. If only I'd known.

Tears were escaping her eyes at a faster rate. Her sorrow consuming her and darkening her world. It was her fault her love and son were gone. If she had been faster, if she had been paying more attention to her surroundings she could have prevented it. If she would have been better than you would still be with her. Bringing joy and laughter wherever you went.

Instead her world was nothing but despair and agony. Her body trapped in self-inflicted numbness to everything but her pain.

Her pain was the only thing that kept her close to you.

Her pain was the only thing that kept you alive.

Her pain was what she deserved for failing you.

She should have listened to you, the pain was only her punishment for not doing so.

-----

"Dany, please, we both know that this plan is suicidal, at best. We shouldn't be wasting our time in trying to impress Cersei Lannister. Every moment we waste gives her more and more time to grow her defenses. We shouldn't be wasting our time heading beyond the Wall when our most immediate threat is here," you plead, your eyes staring at her with urgency. Your words ringing loudly across the silence of the room.

"The plan has already been set into motion. It was decided that this course of action would be for the best," Daenerys responds, her words calm and precise. Trying to show you the necessity of this course of action.

However, you simply shake your head. Disapproval shining within your eyes, and laced in your voice. "This is not the best course of action. We both know that Dany and even if it is the best course of action it, certainly, isn't so for us. You're not only risking one of your most trusted advisors but the possibility of the North blaming you for their king's death if this were to go wrong," you stress, you hands starting to fidget by your side. A nervous tick that you have always had, she thinks fondly. "It would be much safer and more efficient if we take King's Landing now and issue a royal decree to help the North. Why should you get Cersei's approval when you can do what she can when you're queen?"

Daenerys closes her eyes at your words. Knowing that you were right but everything has already been decided. There was nothing more that she could do. This was the course that was set and agreed upon. There was no changing it now.

"My love, I know you disapprove of this decision but please believe in it. Believe in me, everything is going to be fine and Cersei Lannister will learn the truth. A truth that all of Westeros needs to know. I promise you nothing will happen," Daenerys says, bringing her hands to clasp yours. Her hope for you to understand growing with each moment as you look at her.

"You have done amazing things, Dany. Things I could never in a million years do but, not even you, could predict the future and I don't want to see that future when you're proven wrong with this. Only death awaits when you head beyond the Wall. I just hope you don't come to regret your decision."

With those parting words you slip out of her hold and into the hall. Your words ringing loudly in the silence of the air even as you presence was long gone. Echoing like a phantom within her ears.

I just hope you don't come to regret your decision.

-----

She does.

With each ragged intake of breath that takes more and more energy to accomplish.

God she does, with every moment that you're not by her side. It was like the world around her was swallowing her whole. Consuming her in darkness and despair. Her mind and heart at a constant war with each other. Her entire being screaming out in agony for not having you there.

She couldn't breathe knowing that you were no longer doing the same. Like the air was toxic and was clogging up her lungs. Only causing her sobs to become more and more erratic with each breath she takes. Her body folding in on itself because she couldn't find the strength to keep standing. To appear strong and collected when her whole being was shattered beyond repair.

Her mind was only a vessel for her pain.

Her body was a prisoner to her despair.

Her heart was a hollow shell of what it used to be.

Everything was different without you by her side. Without Viserion's playful cries in the morning towards Drogon and Rhaegal. Now there were only sounds of mourning. Their cries raising towards the heaven and echoing across the land.

They too understood what was lost because they weren't good enough.

They too remember when everything fell apart.

-----

The snarls of the dead fill the air. Drowning out the whistling of the wind.

Daenerys lifts her gaze towards the sky and watches Viserion and Rhaegal. She could tell that they were starting to get tired. Something that sends a bolt of terror through her chest. They needed to get out as soon as they could. Drogon rumbles underneath her, clearly, agreeing with the sentiment.

Daenerys brings her gaze towards the mass of Wights. Their eyes sending a shiver down her spine. She had never seen such soulless eyes before. Not a hint of emotion within their depths. She knows that they have to get out of here soon. Their time here was out and they're running on borrowed time.

Bringing her gaze towards Jon's she sees the desperation within his gaze. Clearly he hadn't expected this sudden attack. None of them had expect you. Daenerys feels her heart skip a beat at the thought of you. Fighting with their children while she was stationary on the ground. A fact that she was not happy with but there was nothing she could do.

Daenerys reaches out her hand towards Jon when she sees he's coming close. The sooner he was on Drogon the sooner they could leave. The sooner they could leave the less likely any casualties will happen. As Jon grows nearer she could feel a lightness starting to take over her body. Her heart slowing down from its erratic beat.

Only to completely stop when Viserion's cry echos through the air. Filling her with a complete sense of dread as she turns to him. Her eyes only widening at what she sees.

You.

Falling towards the ground in a deadly arc. The crimson of your blood staining the air around you.

Daenerys didn't even realize that she had let out a scream of her own. The sound sounding like she was having her heart ripped from her body. It was a sound that all that were present would remember. It was the sound of complete and total agony.

Agony that was encompassing her as each second passed. Her only reprieve being when Viserion dove after you. Hoping beyond anything that he would be able to catch you. He was always the fastest of the three, and he would be able to catch you.

He had to.

Her hope starts to dwindle, however, when you grow closer and closer to the ground. With Viserion showing no signs of pulling up.

Your scream was a testament to what was happening. "Bē, Visērion, jikagon bē."

You knew what was going to happen. What Daenerys was willing not to. You knew and so did Viserion.

He wasn't fast enough.

He wouldn't be able to catch you.

You would hit the ground and there was nothing anyone could do.

A thought that brings another, sharper, cry from her lips. Despair filling her being within its embrace.

Her pain only grows that much more when Viserion tucks his wings tighter into his body. Knowing that she wasn't only going to lose you today she was going to lose both. She was going to lose the love of her life and her son.

She could see Rhaegal diving towards them but Daenerys knew he was too far away. Causing tears to start to slip from her eyes. Her pain growing more and more as you grow closer and closer to the ground.

She watches as you grab Viserion's neck and hold on. Clinging to him for the last time and Daenerys feels her heart break even more.

More so than the ice when you finally hit it.

The explosion of water shatters the silence of the landscape. The howls of the dead and the wind comes back, but Daenerys can't bring herself to move.

Her body and mind completely numb to everything. She was stuck staring at the hole you had dissapeared into.

Even as Drogon took off into the air she couldn't bring herself to look away.

Knowing that her light had been taken away.

Plunging her world into darkness.

The North may be facing their Long Night when the Night King comes.

Hers had already come, she would live in darkness until she saw you again.

Until she would be able to see her sun again.

[ireblongstuff]

Undercover

Summary: Natasha and you play a happy couple for an undercover mission.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

-----

It’s mortifying.

As you lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, the moment replays in your head over and over and over again. How you wish you had an off switch for your brain.

This is supposed to be an undercover mission, and yet you can’t keep your true feelings hidden from Natasha.

Undercover as a married couple, no less.

Today, while you were sitting in the living room of your “newlywed home”, reading a book, Natasha approached you. Her hand rested on your shoulder.

“I’m going out for a run” she had said. You nodded absentmindedly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“I’ll start dinner now”

And it wasn’t until you heard the door shut, that you snapped out of it.

You didn’t have to pretend inside the house. There was absolutely no reason for you to kiss any part of her like that, no one was watching.

Your cheeks flushed and your palms began to sweat. Feeling stupid and exposed, you tried to cook dinner, finding it hard to focus on what to do.

If Natasha noticed the slightly burned meatloaf, she didn’t comment on it. Even as you downed your wine quickly and poured yourself more, she remained stoic and acted as usual.

The night went by in a blurr and now you’re staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Natasha is in the study, doing surveillance and thank God, because sharing a bed after what you did today?

Impossible.

How do I get myself in these situations?

—

“The Maggia” Fury said, looking around the room. There were only five people there, which told you this was an important mission. “What do you know about it?”

“Family of criminals, from Europe, mostly Italy. Loose alliance at that, each family just stays out of the other’s way” you casually said. Hell, you could go on and on about them for much longer.

“Someone does their homework” Fury nodded.

“Show off” Natasha leaned forward, whispering in your ear. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you tried your best to hide it.

You feared your best wasn’t very good.

“Their operations consist mostly of loan sharking, narcotics and prostituion” Maria continued. “But, we recently recieved intel that the family in New Jersey is playing something more dangerous”

“Potentially, HYDRA and the smuggling of Trinium”

“What’s Trinium?” Rogers, who had been following in silenece, finally intervened.

“Incredibly rare element and highly explosive if exposed to a special charge”

Of course, it was always about blowing something up.

“We’ve located the leaders of the Jersey family. You two will be sent immediately to start the undercover mission, as the timeline indicates that the purchase will happen in less than three months. Sorry for not getting you a gift, but your wedding was done in such a rush” Fury slid down the files towards you and Natasha.

You took it and were about to hand it to Steve, since he was sitting behind you, but Fury just chuckled, shaking his head no.

Maria had to bite the inside of her cheek to not laugh at your shocked expression, while you turned to look at Natasha with wide eyes.

“Oh, darling, I’ll make you so very happy!”

—

Just your luck, Natasha decides to stay and work from home on Friday. Your plans of eating junk food and wasting away watching reality tv to feel better after your slip up are down the drain.

Instead, you are out gardening. It’s part of the cover, you insisted since you moved. What kind of person would not make an effort to improve their house? One they were planning on living in for years to come.

And truly, you had outdone yourself. In the month you’d spent here, the grass went from dry to green, all kinds of flowers blooming thanks to your hard work and the knowledge provided by years of helping your mother.

It doesn’t matter if the sun is burning your skin or sweat is dripping down your back, you absolutely cannot spend the morning inside the house with the woman who you have a crush on, and who probably knows your true feelings now, thanks to that stupid, stupid…

“Hey” her voice snaps you back to reality, looking up to meet her green eyes, soft and gentle.

“Hi” you reply from your place in the ground, wiping your forehead. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been at it for hours now, and it’s getting too hot. Come get some rest”

“It’s fine, I just need to…”

She calls your name, more of a plea than a warning not to argue with her and you sigh, standing up. As you go up the porch, she hands over a glass of cold lemonade and you take it, realising that you were very much in need of some refreshments.

“What are you doing?” you mutter when you put the glass down, and she takes her hands in yours.

“You’ve been acting strange since yesterday”

“Natasha”

“Did you act on instinct?” she asks, her lips inches from yours.

“Y-yes”

“That’s what a good agent does. You act natural. It’s not something you put any effort in. You don’t drop the cover under any circumstance”

She is throwing you a life line, a gracious way to salvage some of your dignity -if you have any left, that is- because you both know, you are not that good of an agent.

“She’s walking towards the house” Natasha warns, your back to the street. You don’t look behind you, allowing the redhead to pull you into a heated kiss that steals your breath.

“Hey, neighbors”

You turn around, Natasha’s hand falling to your lower back. Waving at Beatrice Costa, the both of you fake smiles. It’s still hard to believe this regular looking woman is leading a criminal organization next to her husband.

“Your garden is looking spectacular!” she admires.

“Thank you, Beatrice. I’ll stop by to give you some flowers when the hydrengeas bloom”

“As long as your wife doesn’t get jealous” the woman jokes, and you feel Natasha’s hand snaking around your middle, pulling you flush against her front.

“She does” the redhead says in a teasing manner, making your neighbor/suspect laugh.

“Anyways, I came to invite you two over for dinner tomorrow. To thank you for last week”

“Oh, it was no bother, really” you say, smiling.

“I insist. Eight o’clock?”

“Sounds great” you nod, and once she says her goodbyes, Natasha turns you around in her arms, still not letting go of your waist.

“See? It’s working. You’re doing great. Nobody questions us” she eases your nerves over what happened yesterday.

Nobody questions you because you are really in love with her, that’s the truth.

“What are you doing?” you say, your breath hitching when she leans over, about to kiss you.

“She’s still around” Natasha says, letting you close the distance to meet her lips.

By the time she drags you back inside, so you can have lunch, the only thought in your head is the feel of her lips in yours.

—

It had been a simple ruse, so simple that it was a wonder it worked.

Natasha made sure Beatrice’s car would malfunction. She always parked outside, and you made sure to be Natasha’s lookout as she drained the battery.

Morning came, and true to her routine, the woman was ready to leave home when the luxurious Mercedes Benz refused to turn on. It just so happened that you were running by, and as any good neighbor would do, offered to help.

What a coincidence, your wife knew enough about cars to fix the issue and send the woman on her merry way.

Beatrice was too polite and too rich to waste the opportunity to thank you -and flaunt her wealth- so next morning she stopped by with a tiramisu from the most expensive bakery in town, to thank you both.

And fuck, it was good tiramisu.

Now, she would greet you and Natasha when either one of you would run past her house (part of your intelligence operations).

Four weeks after the start of the mission, and it had finally paid off, as you received an invitation into the lion’s den.

“So, what’s our game plan here?” you say, looking over yourself in the vanity mirror.

“Enjoy the evening” Natasha says, smiling at your reflection.

“What?” you turn to look at her, confused. “We’re gonna be inside their house. We could bug it”

“Their phones are tapped. That’s all we need. And the man’s computer. But maybe I’ll excuse myself and break into his study”

“That’s too dangerous” you protest. Even if they act like normal people, they’re life long criminals with an extensive network. And you don’t feel prepared to take over anything if Natasha’s compromised. “Could you not?”

“If you have any idea on how to hack into their financial system, sure”

You huff, annoyed at her bored tone. As if she’s not risking herself over something that can be done a million other ways.

“Nat, I don’t want anything bad happening to you. We’ll find another way, ok?” you insist, putting on your heels.

“Ok, darling” she nods, as a spouse would do to calm their crazy wife and you glare, but take your win.

Without another word, you prepare to leave the room, when you feel her arms around your middle.

“What are you…?”

“Clothing tag was out” she says, fixing your sweater. “There. Perfect”

Her words, accompanied by a squeeze to your stomach make your head fuzzy. Clearing your throat, you nod and go down the stairs, picking up a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.

“Trust me” you say when Natasha gives you an inquiring look. “Ready to go?”

“After you, sweetheart”

As you walk down the street to the Costa residence, Natasha takes your hand, running her thumb over the back of it. She might sense your nerves, or is apologizing for before. Either way, you keep a light conversation until she knocks on your suspect’s door, her arm firmly around your waist.

“Welcome!” Beatrice says, ushering you into her home. It’s elegant and big, but not too flashy or pretentious. “And what do we have here?”

“Just a little gift. It’s actually one of the bottles we got from our honeymoon” you take the lead, your hand in Natasha’s as you navigate the luxurious home all the way to the dining room.

“Oh, this is close to the place where my family is from originally”

Oh, what a shock. It’s not like you know everything there is about the Maggia, along with the history of the Gulf of Naples.

While Beatrice goes to the kitchen to check on the food -made by their staff, of course- Natasha looks around the room. You know that inquiring look, as she evaluates every threat and possible complication should you be compromised.

To help her ease into the environment, you take her hand in yours, feeling less exposed because you’re in front of other people who should believe your relationship is real. The mission is the only way you can justify your desire to feel Natasha’s touch.

By the time Beatrice comes back, Alessandro is right behind her and he introduces himself. His clothes scream old money, and the watch on his wrist screams fucking loaded of ilegal money as well.

“This wine is magnificent” he comments when you sit down and begin to eat.

“Le Lune del Vesuvio” you say, looking at Natasha across the table. “We spent our honeymoon in Italy and I just had to drag Nat to Pompeii for a tour”

“Are you familiar with the region?” Alessandro asks and you nod, having practiced everything.

“Yes, I did my dissertation on cultural identity in Pompeii”

“She’s a genius, my wife” Natasha says with a smile, impressed at how much detail you’re putting on everything to keep them engaged.

“Well, Beatrice’s family, the Fortunatos are from the same area. The Costas are from Sicily. So we are very happy to hear that you know it so well”

“How did you two meet?” Beatrice pivots, and Natasha is happy to answer.

“I was working on a client’s divorce settlement and needed an art expert. Y/N was the only one with the knowledge to help our lawfirm. A divorce brought us together” she says, looking at you with a smile.

Such a romantic.

“Oh, that’s lovely. Well, not for the divorced couple. But not everyone can get a happy ending, I suppose” Beatrice says.

It’s your turn to ask the usual questions and Natasha acts surpirsed, following up the way any normal person would, as if you don’t know every single detail about their lives and criminal record already.

When the conversation pivots to Alessandro, you perk up. This has proven to be the hardest part of the mission, as he keeps a tight leash on all their financial records through obscure third parties.

“You know, I also teach some finance classes. Would you be open to giving a lecture on art appraising? I think it’s an interesting market” he turns to you.

“That would be interesting” you say, groaning internally. Now you’re gonna have to actually work on a presentation, for fuck’s sake. Nobody told you you were gonna be quizzed to this extent during the mission.

Natasha hides her smile with the glass of wine, and you kick her under the table. Her smile fades just a little, but you can still see the teasing in her eyes.

She’s having too much fun with this.

—

The next morning you wake up to a note from Natasha. She’s picking up a “special” package, which means she’s coordinating with Maria the next stage of the mission.

You’re surprised to find a bouquet of flowers adorning the dining table.

Natasha is doing her share of the mission and you have to focus on yours, which is the fucking presentation. There better not be a Q&A session or you’ll lose your damn mind.

Moving to the study that also works as a surveillance room, you pull out your computer and begin to work. To be fair, you enjoy art enough to know more about it than the regular person. You had also been in contact with appraisers and auction houses back in your Interpol days, as you tracked ilegal art dealers.

For obvious reasons, you can’t mention that bit.

You’ve been working for a couple of hours when you hear the front door open, Natasha hurrying up the steps.

“Hey” she says with a frown.

“Everything ok?”

“You didn’t answer my text. Have you even taken a break to eat?” she puts down a heavy box in front of you.

“Sorry, I was preparing for the lecture”

“I got you your favorite food for lunch. And did you see the bouquet?” Natasha insists.

“Uh, I did… but is there a reason for…?”

“You seriously don’t remember?”

“Is it our fake first date anniversary, baby?” you tease, leaning forward. Natasha’s so worked up it's almost comical.

“Y/N, it’s your birthday”

“What?!” you turn to look at the calendar. “Holy crap, how could I have forgotten my own birthday?”

You are so focused on the mission, this completely slipped your mind. What were you supposed to do any way? Being undercover meant cutting off contact with the rest of the world. The timing sucks, but work is your priority right now.

“Work on that thing tomorrow. You should be resting and having a special day”

“Nat, it’s fine. It won’t be the first or last birthday that I’m stuck at work” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

“Please?” she reaches for your hand, and the gesture is so gentle that your heart skips a beat. Natasha is very serious about taking the day off.

“Ok” you nod, and the hint of a smile can be seen on her face as you take her hand. She gets plates for the both of you and even agrees to watch Project Runway, which she loathes and you love. Without either one of you noticing, you end up across the couch, your legs on her lap.

“Our dinner reservation is at seven” she says, her hand going up and down your thigh.

“Dinner?”

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t take you to dinner?” Natasha smiles, making you blush.

“Well, no one really knows it’s my birthday, so…”

You leave out the most obvious part of how her logic is flawed: you are not even married.

“I know it’s your birthday. Come on. Just let me spoil you once?”

You clear your throat and nod, afraid that if you speak, your voice will give away how much those words affect you. Natasha telling you she wants to spoil you?

That alone is the best birthday gift you’ve ever gotten.

—

It’s honestly a lot more than you could have asked for. The restaurant is beautiful, the food is amazing, and Natasha is looking at you in that special way that makes you feel so happy and confused at the same time.

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn you saw love in her beautiful emerald eyes.

“How’s your food?”

“Here” you take a forkful of your pasta and offer it to her.

“Really good. Almost as good as the one we had in… where was it? Naples?” Natasha teases, and you smile.

“That’s the city. The whole region is actually really beautiful… maybe I should take some of that time off and travel again” you ponder, thinking about how life has been all about work for the past years.

“Where would you go? Aside from Naples?”

“Sorrento, Lecce, maybe Positano. I don’t know, I guess I’d spend it around the south, just because the food is that good” you sigh, dreamily.

“How come you know so much about it?” Natasha inquires, smiling softly.

“My parents owned a house, because my grandparents were from Salerno. So we’d all spent every summer there, until they sold the property” you explain, letting the waiter take your empty plate. The memory of hot days, cold water and delicious food comes back to you, coupled with the places you’d visit, driving everywhere with your family.

“So, maybe you were destined to be on this mission” Natasha says, smiling.

“I don’t know if destined or it was Fury messing with me” you slip up, hurrying to take a sip of your wine. He had teased you endlessly about your crush on Natasha, and he was probably laughing his ass off as he prepared your identities.

“Whatever it was, I’m happy we’re in this together” Natasha admits, smiling to you.

“Me too” you agree in a low voice. Then, you look at her and smile mischeviously. “So, since it’s my birthday, can we get a nice dessert?”

“I’m already on it” Natasha raises her hand, the man bringing a plate with a slice of chocolate cake and a candle. “Make a wish”

What could you possibly wish for? You wanted to spend time with Natasha, get to know her, have her look at you the way she was doing right now.

Your wish was granted already. Still, you smile, and lean forward to blow out the candle.

—

“Maybe this is a bad idea”

Natasha is hovering. Hovering and following you and asking all kinds of questions while you prepare your bag.

“It’s gonna be fine” you say, again.

“It’s too risky”

“All I have to do is place this phone next to his computer” you lift the device that Maria sent. “And we’ll have access to his files”

“What if he notices?”

“I better run fast then” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “I’m a SHIELD agent, not a history nerd with no fighting skills”

“Except you are a history nerd” she mutters and you turn to glare at her.

“You know what, Romanoff”

“Can I at least drive you there?”

There’s a moment of hesitation on your side. Does she think you’ll screw up the mission? Or is she actually worried about you? Either way, she looks conflicted and there’s no reason to not give her some peace of mind.

“Alright”

On the way to the lecture, you review your notes, missing the way Natasha smiles at the things you’re saying about the subjective value of art and how it has changed throughout history.

Such a nerd.

“I’ll be in a cafe monitoring everything. Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up”

“Yes, darling wife” you say with a slightly mocking tone, the same way you always call her your wife in public, but with no one else around.

As you exit the car and walk towards the university, Natasha calls for you.

“I didn’t get to wish you good luck” she explains, pulling you close and kissing you softly. “Good luck”

“T-thanks” you say, out of breath.

Natasha nods, letting you walk as if she didn’t just do the sweetest thing in the world.

You try not to think about how much you’ll miss this when the mission’s over.

But now you have to stay focused.

Alessandro waves his hand in the air, and you walk towards him with a smile.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this”

“It’s not a problem, really”

It totally is, you criminal motherfucker.

“Oh, I forgot my laptop, could I use yours? I have the deck on a flash drive”

Alessandro hesitates for a second, but his mask slips back to place instantly. If you really were a regular person, you never would have noticed his concern.

It means he keeps everything hidden there.

“Sure. Let me just…” he quickly types his password, and you look around the classroom, pulling out the phone and placing it on the table next to his computer. “All set”

“Thank you”

As the slideshow is projected in the auditorium, you look around the room, feeling more confident.

“So, how much would you guys pay for a banana taped to a wall?”

—

“I’m telling you, he keeps everything there” you say to Natasha, browsing through the device. “There’s some encryption, though”

“My expertise”

“Show off”

“Let’s get something to eat” she changes the subject.

“You don’t wanna go back home and check if it’s working?”

“I think a few hours won’t make a difference. We won’t be long, detka”

You think Fury would disagree, but she’s calling you detka and your gayness outweights your sense of duty.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything you want”

“Pizza”

“Anything but pizza” she says, making a face and you laugh.

“Natasha!”

“Sushi” she proposes.

“Fine, sushi it is”

The evening is spent talking about everything but the mission, and by the time you’re driving back home, all you want to do is get in bed and sleep.

“Where are you going?” you ask when Natasha walks to the study.

“You did your part, now I have to work” she explains with a smile.

“Fine” you close the door to the bedroom, joining her in the study. “Either way you’re gonna wake me up when you come back to bed. Might as well help you now”

“Sure” she says, even though you know next to nothing about code and hacking.

While she works on the computer, you look at the window, yawning and stretching in the couch.

Natasha finds out that Pluto is the banking organization they use for their covert operations. To access the accounts she needs a code-string of numbers.

“How many numbers?” you ask, half asleep.

“Six”

“Not coordinates. Could be dates. Most of them like to write down the dates of their oldest founders' tombstones anywhere they can, like a fucking tramp stamp” you joke, falling asleep. “Get into the database and try those”

“Maybe…” Natasha begins to say, but when she turns around you’re snoring.

And what does she know, you are right, the key to the algorithm is based on tombstones’ dates. Talk about morbid.

“Nerd” Natasha says affectionately. Deciding it is enough work for the day, she closes the laptop, helping you up to your shared bedroom.

Truth is, she’s not ready to finish this mission.

—

The end is near, you both can tell. With the encryption finished and the communications that you have intercepted, SHIELD has enough to arrest them.

According to the conversations you recorded, the exchange is set to happen two weeks from today. So you have two more weeks of fake domestic bliss. And then back to being just colleagues.

“I’ll be home as soon as I have a response” Natasha says.

“See you later” you say from your spot in the couch.

“No good luck kiss?” she jokes, referring to the time she said goodbye to you before the lecture.

But you’re not messing around when you stand up and place a chaste kiss on her cheek. If these are the last two weeks you get to do this without being questioned, you’ll make the most of them.

“Be safe”

“You too” she smiles, squeezing your hand.

The sun is setting, but you don’t feel like cooking anything or watching television. Instead, you decide to go out for a run, passing by the Costa mansion out of curiosity.

“Hey, neighbor” Beatrice greets with her signature wave. She often looks like royalty waving at the commoners. “Want some refreshments?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m just out for a short run”

“Come on, you could use some rest! I’d love to hear how the presentation went”

Feeling cornered, you nod, stepping foot inside her mansion. Beatrice has a glass of lemonade ready, which surprises you, but you take it and sip slowly.

Damn, even her lemonade tastes amazing.

“Heard those students were fascinated by your presentation” she encourages you to speak, and you nod, the movement making you a bit fuzzy.

“It was fun… yeah”

“Everything ok?” Beatrice comes close to inspect your face, and you try to step back. Your leg gives in, so you end up on the floor.

“I’m not sure…”

It isn’t until the very last second you understand the woman drugged you.

—

Everything is upside down or so you feel as you struggle to open your eyes.

“See? I told you she’d be fine”

“Oh, shut it. We’ve been waiting for hours” a man says and you blink several times. Their names come back to you slowly.

The mission.

Was your cover blown?

“Y/N, dear, I do apologize. My wife may have overdone it with the clonazepam” Alessandro says. You try to move, but your hands are tied behind your back. “Yes, about that. Don’t worry, we won’t keep you here for long. We just really need to use your connections in the art world to smuggle a tiny, tiny thing”

Good news (for you). The cover is safe.

Bad news (for them). Natasha is gonna kill them.

It looks like you’re in an abandoned warehouse, and judging by the sound, it’s close to the river.

“Yeah, uh… look. I don’t know how to say this, but you’d be better off crossing the border, whichever one. South, north”

“I’m not following” Beatrice says.

“Well, I’m afraid Natasha’s gonna kill you when she finds you two” you grimace, almost feeling sorry for them. They truly don’t know what’s coming.

“No offense, but I think a Maggia family will be more than safe from…”

“The Black Widow?” you say, with a smug smile.

“Bullshit” Beatrice snaps, pulling you by the hair. “Stop the nonesense and help us out. Or we’ll send you home to your loving wife in a body bag”

There’s a loud crash outside of the warehouse, and a widow bite is shot close to Beatrice’s foot as a warning.

“Hands off my girl” Natasha says, gun raised and pointing at Alessandro. “You ok, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Sorry for missing dinner”

“It’s fine. We’ll heat it up when we get home” Natasha jokes. With a nod, you throw yourself to the floor, shattering the chair. Beatrice throws a couple of punches, and she’s quite the fighter.

While Natasha is engaged in battle with Alessandro, the woman escapes and you’re following close behind. The drug is still in your system, and you can tell by the way your steps are a little clumsy.

Beatrice leads you to the edge of the river and you catch up to her out of breath.

“It’s over” you say, hearing Natasha step right behind you.

“Cap’s got the other one. Let’s bring this one in” she says, walking past you. She fails to see the gun that Beatrice is hiding, and you push Natasha out of the way. The bullet passes between you both and you launch your body against Beatrice, knocking her down.

Still, your diziness makes you lose your footing and you fall to the river.

“Rogers, Hill!” Natasha calls over comms, borderline hysterical. “Someone come in”

“I’m here, Romanoff” Tony says, flying over the redhead.

“What the hell took you so long?”

Tony’s suit scans the river and finds you.

“She’s ok, I’m getting her out now. Handcuff our suspect there”

Natasha turns to glare at Beatrice, punching her so hard she’s knocked out.

“Bitch” Natasha says, handcuffing her.

Maria approaches to make sure Natasha doesn’t kill Beatrice, while the redhead sprints towards the spot where Tony drops you off.

“Are you ok? What hurts?”

“J-just cold” you mutter, holding on to her hands.

“Let’s take her to the Medbay. Romanoff, stay so you can lead the rest of the mission” Steve says.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Natasha screams so loud that every agent on the scene turns to look at her. “I’m going with her to the hospital, I don’t give a crap about your mission, Rogers”

“Tasha, I’m fine” you insist, but enjoy the way she pulls you against her, her hands on your lower back. Natasha kisses the top of your head, leading you to a car that will drive you to SHIELD’s medical facility.

Fury turns to look at Hill, amused.

“Remember our little bet?”

Maria rolls her eyes, annoyed. She pulls out a twenty dollar bill and reluctantly hands it to her boss.

“So not fair”

—

Bruised ribs, a potential cold from your night swim and a minor concussion. All things considered, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Natasha seems to disagree, which is why she pushes to postpone the mission debriefing.

“You need to rest” is all she says.

Back in your old room, you shower, enjoying the hot water and clean clothes. Natasha is still sitting on your bed when you walk out of the bathroom.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep without you” she confesses shyly, which makes you smile.

“Me neither”

“I thought I lost you”

“I got lucky. Those two idiots actually thought I was an art dealer” you chuckle.

“You’re a very convincing art nerd” Natasha teases, and you want to pull back but she grabs you by the waist. “I wish I still had two more weeks”

“It doesn’t have to be just two weeks” you say, running your hand through her hair. “I don’t want to pretend to be with you, Natasha. I want to be with you, for real”

“Yeah?” she looks up at you, a guarded expression on her face.

Instead of answering, you lean forward, kissing her softly until she pulls you to straddle her lap.

“You know, we never consumated our marriage”

“Seems like we should get on with it” you laugh as she flips you over, making you lie on your back.

“Just as long as you don’t fake an orgasm” she jokes, kissing every inch of your body.

“Promise I won’t”

Your reality turns out better than any undercover mission could ever be.

[ireblongstuff]

How do you think Cersei, yara, Sansa, Margery, Brienne and Daenerys would react to having a girlfriend who has fainting spells from a previous head injury, and who neglects to tell them until it happens?

did yall kno .... tumblr mobile + desktop dont tell me about messages in my inbox anymore...... at least they fixed the askbox thing showing up on a post amirite. anyhoo, ladiesssss

Brienne - Brienne caught you when it happened and carried you back to your chambers, fretting the whole way. She stayed calm outwardly but was internally panicking as she called a maester. She figured you didn’t want a ton of attention drawn to you, so she wouldn’t tell any family members unless it was serious ... Then the maester explained this often happened since you had received that injury, he assumed Brienne knew.

When you woke up, she was right there with both tea and water, like the maester said. Brienne didn’t want to overwhelm you, but she was worried and a little exasperated that you didn’t tell her what happened. She’d like to know all she can, especially something this serious, so she can protect and care for you better. She somewhat understands, but she’s still worried, dang it. So she stays until you’re feeling better.

Cersei - She’d be right there when you woke up, huffing and pouting. She’d lecture you about not telling her, because she remembers the injury happening and how you brushed her off. As you look around you notice there’s food and water on your bedside, super fluffy pillows, soft sheets, familiar perfume sticking to your skin... you’re in her room. 

“I told them to bring you here, of course.” She says it like it’s obvious. “You’ll stay here until you feel rested.” Cersei ended up hovering close, made Maester Pycelle come in, snapped at him to leave once he was done and spent the rest of the day with you. She’s especially pushy when she’s worried, and you worried her. Her mind has a way of jumping to the worst conclusions. 

Yara - Some of her crew make a move to pick you up and she barks at them to fuck off and carries you herself. She’s got some sharp-smelling herbs that help you come to, and she bluntly asks if this is related to that injury you got. Yes, she remembers it. She’s annoyed that this has been happening and you didn’t tell her... “Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same, but I don’t like being surprised like that.”

She’d make a point to tell the crew you were fine and to leave you alone, Ironborn are a hard lot and she can’t have them suspecting weakness. She’d likely leave a non-Ironborn lady on the shore anyhow, keep them away from her crew even if it’s lonelier. If you are Ironborn you both understand there’s a reputation to maintain, esp for women, so you both have a system and excuses for when it happens.

Sansa - Panic! External panic! Until she collects herself, then it’s internal, and her mind is going through dozens of scenarios for what the problem is. She connects it to the injury while you’re resting. You wake up in your room, and she’s got a whole meal and water ready for you. Sansa wouldn’t call the maester until you woke up and spoke with her, she’d want to hear how you were feeling and if you wanted one in the first place. 

Once you were settled in and cozy, she’d have a serious talk about the fainting spells, since she’d come up with so many scenarios where it might be more serious - “What if you fainted on some stairs?! What if no one was around to help?!” - and you may have to reassure her because she thinks of so many things at once. She settles eventually and brainstorms what she should do the next time it happens, where she should take you, what you’d need, and so on.

Margaery - She’s normally a collected lady, but her love for you is great, so when it happens she makes an audible gasp and tries to catch you, even though strength isn’t her strong suit. She’d call Loras or Garlan to come carry you, as she’d trust them to keep quiet. The idea of secrecy occurred to Margaery instantly, something her grandmother taught her, so she would also wait until you had woken to ask if you’d like a maester. Margaery would tsk and give you a little wap on your arm when you told her the likely source of the fainting spells.

“I remember you telling me about that! You should have said this was happening...” She’s a little put out that you didn’t tell her this wasn’t the first, second or even fifth time. Margaery tells you almost everything, maybe too much, and she wants the same in return. She’ll absolutely protect you the next time it happens and like Sansa, has plenty of excuses and distractions if anyone questions it. It’s probably overkill, but she’s always hyper aware of reputation.

Daenerys - She jumps into action right away and is the sort to snap at others to handle you carefully and get this or that... then shoos all of them away so she can do it herself. Because of Drogo, she has difficulty with any future partners showing illness, and she remembers that injury you took some time ago - that was scary enough. She doesn’t connect the two right away, too distracted by trying to carefully rouse you awake. Once your eyes open and focus, she’s visibly relieved.

Afterward Dany is a little embarrassed by her strong reaction, but she was worried, damn it. When you tell her it’s been happening several times, she tries not to get angry. She’s more exasperated, wishing you had told her, but also knowing she would’ve been smothering and overly worried. You’ll have to reassure her that it’s just the fainting spells, nothing else, promise. She’ll keep a close eye on you for a few weeks, understanding you aren’t some fragile girl, but still feeling that old anxiety and pain from Drogo.

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House of the Dragon: Season 2 Opening + References [*book/show]

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Sunrise on the Reaping (2025)