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When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 12: And I'm Just The Boy Who's Had Too Many Chances]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, violence, serious injury, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content (18+), snack time for Sunfyre, dream sequences, murder, sad sad children, the return of an old friend, a road trip (boat trip??)! 🥰

Series title is a lyrics from: “7 Minutes In Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More Touch Me” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @yawneneytiri @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

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She is the third prisoner you have visited in the dwindling hours of their life, as if you are a dark omen, a giver of last rites, the Stranger. Otto was resigned. Baela was overconfident, unsuspecting. But the woman behind the iron bars now—the one the people of Westeros are calling the half-year queen—is restless and pacing like a trapped animal. Her gown is black velvet with gore-scarlet accents. Her long silver hair hangs tangled and limp. You reach into her cell to place two items on the stone floor: a piece of bread, a cup of tea.

“Poison?” Rhaenyra says, sharp, derisive.

“No,” you answer truthfully.

“Why not?”

“Because that would be painless. And I want you to suffer.”

“What happened to you?” she whispers, stunned.

I lived, I died, I was resurrected. “I’m a different person now. We all are.”

“You have aligned yourself with the Usurper. You must have, you would not be permitted to visit me alone otherwise. You have betrayed me. You have betrayed House Celtigar. How could you? I remember how gentle you once were, how kind. I remember your father telling me how you begged him to let you serve in the war as a healer. You just wanted to stop people’s agony. You would tend to men of any allegiance. You were harmless. You were a saint, an angel.”

“The world clipped my wings, it seems.”

“Where is my son?” Rhaenyra demands.

“Wherever the king wishes for him to be.”

It leaps into Rhaenyra’s face: terror, helplessness, desperation. She rushes towards you and grabs for your hands, her arms jutting through the spaces between the iron bars until the metal digs into her shoulders, until the rust leaves stains on her gown. You rip away from her, feeling no mercy at all. “Please,” Rhaenyra whimpers. “Please. Don’t harm my son.”

“It is not my decision to make.”

“He’s all I have left.” She is weeping; she is lurking in the doorway between reason and insanity. “The people turned against me. They killed Syrax, they killed Joffrey. The Dragonpit is gone. My family is gone. Daemon is gone. The prince is all I have left now. Please, please…”

“You could have stopped this,” you say, cold like a blade. “When your father died, you refused to yield the throne. When you captured King’s Landing, you refused Alicent’s proposal to split the realm between you and Aegon. And even now—hated by the smallfolk, staring death in the face—you refuse to surrender. You refuse to kneel to Aegon and send the Stark men back to the North and end the slaughter. Every drop of blood spilled in this war is on your hands. You are filthy with it, you are nothing but red. You took them all from us. Jaehaerys, Maelor, Otto, Helaena, Autumn’s baby, Everett, Criston, Daeron, Aemond. I charge you with their deaths. Your life is the only possible repayment for the debt.”

“Help me and I will give you anything you want,” Rhaenyra pleads. “Free me. Assist me and my son in escaping Dragonstone. I will go to Cregan Stark, he will shelter me, and when he has won the war for us I will lay the world at your feet. I will give House Celtigar dominion over all the Crownlands, you will be second only to the Targaryens in regard. I will appoint Clement to my Queensguard and name you the head of your house. You can spend your wealth as you see fit. You can marry anyone, or no one, or marry a man and push him from a cliff and then marry again. None of it matters to me. Help me now, and I will make you free forever.”

“I won’t help you murder Aegon.”

“He’s dead either way. Only Aemond and Vhagar could stop the Northmen, and they’re gone.”

That’s not true. That can’t be true. “Enjoy your last meal, dragon queen,” you tell Rhaenyra as you turn away. “The king has a fitting end planned for you.”

When you cross through the dungeons into the main castle—your gown fluttering around your ankles, vivid red velvet like fire, like blood—Lord Larys Strong is waiting. He trots after you as quickly as he can, his cane striking loudly against the stone floor. “Your Grace, I must implore you to beseech the king to spare the boy’s life.”

“It’s for Aegon to decide what to do with him.” Presently, Rhaenyra’s last remaining child is locked up in the bedchamber once claimed by Prince Aemond. He is young, afraid, watchful, old far beyond his years…but he is unharmed. Two servants and two guards have been assigned to the boy to ensure his needs are attended to and that he cannot escape. The small entourage that Rhaenyra landed on Dragonstone with—expecting to be greeted by Baela and Moondancer, and swiftly disappointed—was executed immediately.

“He is an invaluable asset to our cause,” Larys insists. “The king needs an heir. Jaehaera, as a girl, cannot inherit. But if she was married to Aegon the Younger, they could unite the warring factions and end any enduring ill-will. Their union could pave the way for peace that will last generations.”

“And that’s what we fought for, so little girls could go on being traded like horses and shoved into whichever marriage bed promises the rest of us the greatest advantage.”

Larys is hurt; you have chastised him for something he has no control over. “That is the way of the world, Your Grace. Marriages are arranged. Women are bartered with. The poor die for the rich and cripples are overlooked entirely. There is no changing any of this, it is madness to try.”

“Oh, are any of us not mad yet?” you quip back, sweeping into Aegon’s bedchamber. Larys breaks away, leaving you and the king alone.

Aegon is standing in front of his mirror. He wears all black, his sword and dagger at his belt, his scars on his face, the Conqueror’s crown glinting with rubies. He rubs at his lower back and winces without realizing he’s doing it. His kidneys, you think with dismay. Aegon says as he stares at his reflection, only half-joking: “Who is that?”

You go to him, lay two fingers on the line of his jaw and turn his face to yours, kiss the rough red scar tissue of his right cheek and then his lips, wet with wine. “I think you should spare the boy.”

“So he can marry Jaehaera someday?” Aegon replies cynically.

“No.” You touch your forehead to his and close your eyes. “Because mercy is increasingly rare, and once the last of it is gone what made us ourselves will be too. He’s just a child.”

“So were Jaehaerys and Maelor. So was Autumn’s son. The Blacks murder children.”

“Yes. But you don’t have to.”

Now Aegon is quiet, gentle. “Show me your hand.”

You give it to him, hastily scrubbed and bandaged the night before. He unwraps the linen and examines your palm, split down the center with a shallow gash surrounded by rusty smudges of dried blood. Aegon presses your hand to his face and inhales deeply, then cleans the maroon stains from your skin with his tongue. He grins, dazed with wine and milk of the poppy. “I can’t waste a drop of you.” And when he kisses your lips he tastes like copper and dreams and the ancient salt of the ocean that breaks against the rocks outside.

Aegon staggers around his room collecting items you once used to save his life: linen, vinegar, rose oil. He wants to take care of you this time, he wants to mend the flesh that once patched his back together. He remembers the steps, you observe; he reenacts them with reverent care.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you away last night,” Aegon says as he tends to your hand. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I’m sorry.”

“You were in shock. You were grieving.”

“What did the witch tell you? You said that’s why you harmed yourself.”

Horrible things. Unbelievable things. “She swore she didn’t know what would happen to Aemond. And that their son will become a knight of House Whent.”

“House Whent? I must have slept through that lesson.”

“For once, your educational apathy is not at fault. It doesn’t exist. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’ll scorch the rubble of Harrenhal,” he says, dark and low. “I’ll have her tortured to death. She took Aemond from us.”

You reply softly: “Killing Alys won’t bring him back.” And if her son is real, he is the only piece of Aemond we have left.

Now there are tears in Aegon’s eyes; he blinks them away so he can see well enough to finish bandaging your hand. “He was there when I was burned. He was there when I broke my legs. He was there for me when I had nothing to give him in return. He shouldered the burdens of ruling without ever trying to take the throne.”

“Yes, he did.”

“I never told him what he meant to me.”

“But he still knew.”

Your hand is your own again. You braid a lock of Aegon’s short silver hair, remembering the first time you ever did: he was a dying adversary, you were a Black loyalist destined to marry Cregan Stark. “The boy can live,” Aegon decides. “But he must learn the price of treason.”

Down on the beach, the guards have driven a stake deep into the sand. The midday sky is thick and tumultuous with dark clouds; the waves of the Narrow Sea thrash and roil, lethal undercurrents, surging riptides. Aegon insists on descending the craggy stone staircase himself, not like an invalid but like a king. He moves haltingly, clutching at the wall for support. By the time he reaches the shore, Aegon’s legs are trembling wildly and his face is flushed, agonized, drenched with sweat despite the metallic chill of winter in the air. One of the maesters fetches Aegon a cup of milk of the poppy and he gulps it down so urgently that opalescent beads of liquid escape to roll down his chin. Lord Larys appears to stand beside him, both hands laced over the handle of his cane.

Now the guards are roping Rhaenyra to the stake. She wears the same gown she arrived in: filthy, ripped, ruined from travelling. She does not fight them; she only asks: “Where is my son? Where is the prince?”

And then she spots him. His tiny hands are clasped by guards. The wind rakes at his silver hair. He is confused, frightened, peering around with huge glistening eyes that are a murky blue like the king’s. He must be about five years old now. He has been led to the beach to watch his mother die. You glance uneasily at Aegon. He does not notice; he attention is fixed on Rhaenyra.

“How did it feel, sister?” Aegon calls out to her. Something glows fierce and mindless behind his eyes, something devours ravenously like fire.

Rhaenyra watches him warily, not understanding. At the edge of the beach, curled in on himself and breathing in slow rattling heaves, Sunfyre glares at the half-year queen.

“My father’s love. I never knew it.” Aegon lurches closer, grinning without any humor, baring his teeth like an animal. “I knew other things, sure. I knew his indifference. I knew his fury. I knew his boots and his contempt. But I never knew his love. Neither did Aemond, though he worked for it, worked himself bloody. Neither did Helaena or Daeron or my mother. Did it keep you warm, Rhaenyra? Did you spend your childhood so instinctively aware that there were always hands waiting to catch you?”

“I had my trials too, brother,” Rhaenyra says, her head held high and defiant. “I lost people. I was compelled marry against my wishes.”

“And you found solace in the arms of others, the same as I did!” Aegon roars. “And Father defended you! He saw proof of your failings—obvious, indelible proof—and he didn’t just forgive it, he erased it, he made it a crime to mention it, your sons cut out Aemond’s eye and still all Father could bring himself to care about was your honor, your wellbeing! Well, he’s gone now, Rhaenyra. Your protector is ashes but I’m still here. The throne is mine. The retribution is mine. And your life is mine too.”

“You will not live a month after me!” she hisses into bitingly cold wind. “The wolves are closing in. Winter is coming. Cregan Stark is the Kingmaker now, it is a title he wears with great pride. He will not pardon your treason. He will have the Boltons flay you alive.”

Aegon cackles; he is toying with her. “Why would the wolves want my skin? It is not so handsome now. Shall I tell you what it was like when Meleys burned me at Rook’s Rest? It was the worst pain imaginable. I begged to die. But I didn’t. An angel brought me back from the dead. And now it’s your turn to burn.” Aegon shouts something to Sunfyre in High Valyrian. Sluggishly, the dragon uncoils himself and ventures towards Rhaenyra, sniffling, salivating. His claws sink into the wet sand; his belly drags on the ground. His golden eyes glint with wounded reptilian wrath.

“Mama!” her son wails, struggling against his captors.

“No, no, don’t cry,” she soothes. She is beginning to sob. “Don’t look, baby. Close your eyes. Don’t cry. Mama isn’t scared. Mama loves you. Now close your eyes and don’t open them no matter what you hear—”

“It’s such a shame that our uncle Daemon is at the bottom of the Gods Eye,” Aegon taunts Rhaenyra. “You two were made for each other. Treacherous, grasping, scheming, beloved by Father in measure that far exceeds your worthiness. What a fated romance. You built such an infamous legacy together. You should have been set ablaze together.”

“Mama!” the little boy screams.

“Dracarys,” Aegon commands Sunfyre. The beast growls at Rhaenyra but does no more than that. He is weak, he is dying. Aegon tries again, almost manic with pain: “Dracarys!”

You lay your bandaged palm on Aegon’s forearm to calm him. “Let Sunfyre smell her blood,” you murmur, and with trembling hands he gives you the dagger that he uses to cut his hair, that you opened your flesh with to summon Alys Rivers and her terrible prophesies. You cross the sand to meet the Black Queen.

“Don’t hurt her!” Rhaenyra’s son shrieks. “Mama! Mama!”

Rhaenyra is bound around her legs, waist, and shoulders; her lower arms hang free and useless. You take her left hand, turn it over, and press the point of the dagger to her wrist. You have done this once before, when you tested Baela for a pulse; now it comes just as easily. As you glide the blade down Rhaenyra’s wrist and open her veins, Rhaenyra says, hushed and venomous: “You have sold your soul, Lady Celtigar. And in the service of a dead man. I hope it was worth it.”

Still gripping the dripping dagger, you leave her and go to her son. Behind you, you can hear Sunfyre snarling and Rhaenyra moaning in dread. As the boy bawls, you wave the guards away and pull him to you, embracing him, shielding him. “Don’t look,” you whisper; and he clutches you like you once held onto Aemond on this beach after Aegon’s legs were shattered, not because he wants to but because you are here, and because you understand the weight of horror like this, the poison that replicates in the marrow of your bones, the debt that can never be paid.

There is heat, a blistering inferno, and a scream that Rhaenyra cannot bite back. You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in the sickeningly sweet miasma of seared human flesh, and suddenly you are back at Rook’s Rest as Aemond dragged you through the burning woods where embers fell like snow, into the tent of green canvas, to the table where Aegon writhed and suffered and pleaded for death. There are sounds of tearing and crushing. There are dry snaps that can only be Rhaenyra’s charred bones splitting between Sunfyre’s jaws. The dead woman’s son clings to you, and you look across the beach at Aegon. He gazes back, and something flits across his eyes, glassy with pain and exhaustion and wine and milk of the poppy, and he knows he’s done wrong. There is shame. There is an apology, not to the boy but to you. To all the bright, benevolent mercy that his war has carved out of you. Then the king collapses, drained and unconscious on the cold sand.

Aegon is carried to his rooms. The child—in shock, in hysterics—is dosed with a few drops of essence of nightshade by the maesters and put to bed. You go to the castle library and pour over books searching for how to cure ailments of the kidneys, for any scrap of wisdom you might have missed before. You read until you fall asleep with your cheek resting against pages chronicling the signs of doom: paleness, weakness, no appetite, swelling in the hands and feet, pain in the lower back, blood in the urine. Night descends like a wave that pulls you under. Candles flicker on the table. Lord Larys leaves you bread and wine and a bowl of crab soup in case you wake hungry before dawn.

You don’t know that by the time you rise in the morning, the Master of Whisperers will have received word that Borros Baratheon’s army seized the capital for Aegon and sent out calls for the king in hiding to return to the city. It’s time to sail across Blackwater Bay to King’s Landing. It’s time for Aegon to go home.

~~~~~~~~~~

On your last night in the gloomy, beast-haunted walls of Dragonstone, you dream of Alicent’s youngest child Daeron. You are walking on the beach outside, and you know this isn’t real because the sand is warm and golden, and the sky is a cloudless blue, and winter is nowhere to be found, it is summer now and it will be tomorrow and it will be forever after that as well. Daeron soars down to where the serene crystalline waves meet the shore on Tessarion, and the swanlike Blue Queen waits patiently in the frothing surf as her rider strides over to meet you. He stands tall and proud; his long white-blond hair whips in the sunlit wind; he is beaming. His cape billows out behind him like the sails of a ship. He is clothed in bright cheerful seafoam green, just like he was on the day he died.

“I’m so sorry, Daeron,” you say as the sunshine beats down like heavy rain. “You were too young. You deserved more time.”

But Daeron just grins, crooked and cocky. “Do not mourn for me, sister. I was blessed with a hero’s death. There is no better way to leave this earth than in battle. And I roasted as many of those bastards as I could before the end.”

“Why have you come back?”

“I have a favor to ask,” he says; and only now do his large blue eyes go soft and misty. “When you return my cape to Mother, ask her to burn it. She will want to bury it in accordance with the funeral customs of the Faith of the Seven, but I want to be laid to rest as a true Targaryen. There’s no chance for my body. Your wolf threw me into a mass grave.”

“I don’t belong to Cregan Stark.”

“Someone should tell him that.” Daeron sighs. “I miss Aegon. We all do. Things are clearer where I am now. Things like disappointment and bitterness are just words; we’ve forgotten how to feel them. But we do know absence. And we see how he suffers.”

“What can I do to heal him?” you ask, you plead. “I’ll do anything. What can I do?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Daeron says. Then he treks back to Tessarion and they vanish together into a clear summer sky, a fleeting glimmer of ethereal blue like a comet.

~~~~~~~~~~

Aegon is kneeling by Sunfyre, his hand on the dragon’s clever, angular face. The beast is dead. He ceased his labored, clattering breathing in the night and was gone long before the king struggled out of his nest of blankets; Aegon is always cold now. Sunfyre is at peace, he is reunited with the fallen creatures of his kind, Tessarion and Vhagar and Dreamfyre…but the world has so much less magic in it than it did before.

“Your Grace, we must leave now,” Larys nudges, sympathetic yet insistent. At the end of the pier, a small ship bobs in rough slate-grey waves. Everyone else is already aboard, the servants, the guards, the maesters, the captive child. You touch Aegon’s shoulder, knowing what he is thinking: Everything I own, everything I’m given…it is destroyed, gets killed, goes mad. I ruin causes. I ruin people.

“He can’t be gone,” Aegon says numbly. “I don’t know how to live without him. I can’t remember a time before he was mine.”

“He held on as long as he could for you,” you tell Aegon. “He saved your life more than once. He lived and died in your service.”

“I want monuments built for him,” Aegon says, sniffling and swiping away tears. His ring—gold wings, jade eyes—flashes under scant beams of muted sunlight. “And for my brothers, and for Helaena, and for Criston and Otto and the children. Daeron’s statues should be laughing, and Aemond’s should be fierce, and…and…”

“Anything you want, Your Grace,” Larys agrees. “But first we must go home.”

There are jubilant crowds waiting to welcome Aegon into King’s Landing, and not just Baratheon soldiers whose fortunes are staked upon his victory but bakers, butchers, blacksmiths, tailors, potters, drunks, orphans, widows, actors and madams and whores. They do not flinch away when they see his dragonfire scars or his slow, painful gait. They only cheer more deafeningly. They see in him what they all have known: the feeling of being broken, the hope of being resurrected as something greater. They believe he can win the war for them. They believe he can keep the wolves at bay. Meanwhile, Larys smuggles Rhaenyra’s child into the city in an enclosed carriage; he does not want the masses to rip the Blacks’ heir apart piece by piece.

In the Red Keep, Alicent flies through the corridors to rush into the unsteady arms of her last living child, her only son. She is skin and bones, an auburn-haired ghost with translucent skin and fingers knobby with arthritis. She kisses his face and weeps and spills out a litany of mourning for Helaena, Daeron, Aemond, Criston. Aegon tries to soothe her, but he doesn’t know what to say. There are no clocks to turn back or nightmares to startle awake from. This is the world now, there is no escaping it, what is lost will forever remain ashes or earth or bones at the bottom of the Gods Eye.

Along with Alicent emerges Jaehaera, much the same as you remember her, a bit taller, grave for someone so young, but still with Aegon’s oceanic eyes and high cheekbones and the gentleness that he used to have so much more of. The girl does not seem to have much interest in her father—if she recognizes him at all—but smiles and waves timidly at you from behind the skirts of her protector. And this is a face you remember too: a wry smirk, hazel eyes, skin milky and freckled, framed by long coppery ringlets.

“I’m glad you’re still alive, my lady,” Autumn says. “Have you bought me a castle yet?”

~~~~~~~~~~

When you dream of Helaena, she is sitting on the rim of a fountain in the gardens of the Red Keep. Her gown is a soft butter yellow and her hands are crawling with butterflies. They perch on her fingers like rings: ruby, sapphire, amethyst, moonstone, emerald, gold. It is warm, it is summer. It is always summer in the land of ghosts. You join Helaena, and butterflies form a kaleidoscopic blizzard in the air. The water spouting from the fountain trickles cool and clear.

“I didn’t know you were going to jump,” you tell her. “I would have stopped you. I’m sorry I was too late. I’m sorry I looked away.”

“Things are better where I am now,” Helaena says. “It’s miles and miles of gardens. Jaehaerys and Maelor are there. Daeron and Aemond are there. Grandsire is there too, and we all eat supper together each night, and no one ever argues. Everett is there with Autumn’s baby. He is a joyful little thing, he sleeps and smiles and never cries. Everett carries the baby as he walks through the gardens. At night, Everett reads to us. He loves to read. He and Aemond have struck up quite the rapport. And there is no killing. Everyone is already dead.”

You watch her, a tenderhearted sunlit spirit. “What do you need from me, Helaena? Why have you come back?”

“I was not able to be a good mother in life. But now I see my children as they truly are.” She gazes at you with urgency in her eyes like rainwater, orchids, aquamarines. “Jaehaera is so young, so vulnerable. To be a woman at the mercy of men is a terrible thing. She will require a champion in high places.”

And you picture her: the little girl who looks so much like Aegon, the child who is sweet and compliant and forever trying so hard to be brave. “I’ll always do what I can to protect her.”

“You must whisper into the right ears. You are believed to be merciful; you must be seen to act out of mercy, not for love of who her father was.”

Who her father was, not is. Was. “Helaena—”

“If she is seen as a rival, she will be put to death. Please don’t let them kill her. Please let one of my babies grow up.”

“I promise I’ll help Jaehaera, but Helaena—”

She leans in and grabs your face with her right hand, butterflies still gleaming on her fingers like jewels. “It’s time to wake up now.”

And you fall backwards into the fountain that turns from water to air to the feather mattress of Aegon’s bedchamber.

~~~~~~~~~~

“After Rhaenyra killed my boy, I knew where I had to go.”

When the Baratheons took the city and freed Alicent, she arranged for Helaena’s old rooms to be given to Autumn. You sit by the crackling fire with her as Jaehaera and Aegon the Younger play with wooden blocks across the bedchamber, speaking to each other in tentative, bashful murmurs. They do not comprehend that their families slaughtered each other. They are two lonely, profoundly wounded children, building kinship out of loss and ignorance. Rhaenyra’s son has swiftly become attached to Autumn; he trails after her everywhere, clutches at her skirts, reaches up to ask her to hold him. She has lost one silver-haired child, yes, brutally, horribly; but she has gained two.

“Everett helped arrange for me to escape to Storm’s End,” Autumn continues, sipping hot apple cider to warm her as winter bears down upon the Crownlands. You have a cup too; steam curls up from the amber brew like smoke from a dragon’s jaws. What dragon? you think. They’re nearly all dead now. Autumn looks at you with sad, shining eyes. “You have to believe me when I say that I never loved the king. But I grew to love the baby we made together. And when he was taken from me…when he was dragged out of my arms, still wet with blood from the womb, I…I…” She shakes her head, swallows down the longing that will never quite leave her. “I felt that if I could not be with my own child, at least I could be with his sister, a girl who was so alone in the world.” Now Autumn smiles. “I know I called her an inbred little freak before. That was cruel of me. She isn’t so bad. I love her to death, actually. I would break bones for that kid. She never complains. She tries her best at everything. It’s not her fault she’s inbred.”

“Borros Baratheon let you stay in Storm’s End?” you ask; he is not known to be a generous or trusting man.

Autumn shrugs. “Jaehaera recognized me. She was able to confirm that I had been a handmaiden to the Greens. Lord Borros took some convincing, but…no harm was done. We came to an agreement.”

“I’m so sorry, Autumn,” you say solemnly. “I wish I could have done more for you. But things are different now. You’ll never have to sell your body again.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. The wolves will be knocking on our doors within the week. Whichever way it goes, I intend to survive. I always have, I always will. Whatever it takes.” She peers through the window at dim grey skies, at bare tree limbs. “You heard about what happened to Everett?”

Alys’ vision flares in your skull like lightning, like dragonfire. “Yes.”

“I can’t even blame the people,” Autumn says. “They hated Rhaenyra, and rightly. They hated her for Helaena, for Jaehaerys and Maelor, for my son. They didn’t know the difference. They thought one Celtigar man was just as guilty as the next. Now Everett is dead, his body parts squirreled away in a hundred different households as souvenirs, and from what I understand when Rhaenyra was driven from the city Clement rode north to join Cregan Stark.”

“Of course he did,” you mutter bleakly.

“Angel, the king…he’s…he’s not well, is he? He doesn’t look well. He looks like a dead man. He’s so pale, so slow when he walks, and his eyes are sunken way down in their sockets—”

“He’s healing,” you say, and Autumn just stares at you. “He’s been through suffering, terrible suffering, but when the war is over he’ll finally be able to rest. He’ll get better. He has to get better.”

“Of course,” Autumn agrees; but she bites her lip and takes your hand and holds it so tightly it hurts.

That night as Aegon crawls into bed—the same bed that was his when you were first brought to King’s Landing, the bed where you healed his burns and massaged rose oil into his scar tissue and ensured that the milk of the poppy he received was enough to kill his pain but not his body, the same bed where you fell in love with him—he gathers you into his arms and draws you closer, closer, your head against his scarred chest, his heartbeat slow and drumming beneath your fingerprints.

Aegon says: “Someone finally remembered that Corlys Velaryon was locked up down in the dungeons and set him loose. He has joined my cause in exchange for our assurance that Rhaena will never be mistreated. I’ve told Corlys that Daeron killed Baela and Moondancer. He has accepted this as one of the many tragedies of the war, and he harbors no resentment towards you. And don’t think that I’ve slandered Daeron. He would gladly take the credit if he was here.”

“I’ve done so many unforgiveable things,” you marvel.

“Yes, for me. Only for me. I bear the weight of those sins, not you. Now let me distract you from them.”

But he can’t do it, not any of it; he’s too weak, he’s bloodless, he’s empty. He’s panting out apologies and calling himself useless. You’re trying to console him. You kiss his face, his throat, his chest, all the ruined pieces of him. You tell him you’re not disappointed, that you can try again later.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry—”

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, Aegon.”

“It’s not,” he moans, eyes closed, already plummeting into unconsciousness. “But I don’t have a choice.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Aemond is in the rookery of the Red Keep, scrawling letters at the writing desk. Ravens squawk and paw at the bars of their cages. He wears a deep ancient green that makes you think of pine trees, swamps, snakes, lizard-lions. His silver hair is tied back in a single thick braid, as if he might be hurrying off to ride Vhagar into battle soon, as if he might roast the Northmen in their armor. But of course, Aemond can do no such thing. Not anymore.

“It’s cold at the bottom of the Gods Eye,” he says without looking at you.

“You’re still there?”

“I’m everywhere and I’m nowhere. It’s strange. Sometimes I’m in the water. Sometimes I’m in the gardens. Sometimes I’m watching Alys. Sometimes I’m watching you.” He turns around, and you see that he is grinning. His eyepatch is gone and his sapphire glittering, just like it was that night on Dragonstone. “But perhaps that is not so welcome a thought.”

“I wish you would have listened to us,” you say, not with anger but with deep, desperate sorrow. “I wish you could have understood the worth you had and stopped chasing phantoms.”

“I believed that by redeeming myself, I could save my family. You think if you take enough lives Aegon will get to keep his. We’ve all made mistakes. But now the debts have been called in. And there’s nowhere for us to go but down.”

I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to imagine it. “What do you need from me, Aemond? You need something. Everyone does.”

“Please do not harm Alys,” Aemond says, calm, courteous. “She was good to me. She loved me, and I loved her, even if that love was woven of dark, destructive threads. And my son…” Aemond smiles, proud and wistful. “He will have a part to play in what comes next.”

“I miss you,” you say, almost like an apology. “More than I thought I would.”

“I did not always treat you fairly. I did not always conduct myself in the most honorable manner. It is a regret of mine.”

“I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I know,” he says with his sly, taunting smirk. Then he stands and crosses the rookery, and just as he strikes out to catch your forearm you startle awake in a cold, dark room. You roll over, move closer to Aegon, watch his chest so you can tell if he’s still breathing.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, Aegon wakes up alone. This is not unusual; he sleeps at least twelve hours a day now, and when you rise you go about your tasks until he catches up with you. He fumbles for the cup of milk of the poppy that you left for him on the bedside table and takes a swig. It’s enough to bring the pain in his legs and his back and his soul down to an ache, but he is never rid of it. He wonders, as he twirls the drained cup between his fingers, just how much it would take to kill someone. He wonders how much you gave to Baela in the dungeons of Dragonstone.

Aegon tries to climb out of bed but ends up stumbling to the floor instead. He tries to stand and can’t manage it. Groaning, hating himself, he scrabbles around under the bed for the porcelain chamber pot. He grabs it just as the situation is about to get even more mortifying, kneels on the floor, and relieves himself, sighing deeply. He yanks back up his cotton sleeping trousers and ties them snugly around his ever-shrinking waist. Then he looks down.

“Oh fuck,” he exhales in a whisper, hidden like a crime. The chamber pot is full of blood.

I have to throw it somewhere. I can’t let her see it. He peers around frantically. Out the window?? Into a potted plant??

He doesn’t want the servants to deal with it; they might gossip, she might hear them. Aegon is still thinking—no simple undertaking through the haze of milk of the poppy—when he hears footsteps in the doorway.

“Seven hells,” Autumn gasps. Her horrified gaze darts from the bloody chamber pot to the king and back to the porcelain bowl of blood, a bright and unmistakable and murderous red. “I’m sorry, Your Grace…I was looking for extra blankets…the children have never known a winter before and they are cold, and I…” Her eyes snag on the blood again like a fish on a hook. “Oh. Oh gods.”

“Don’t tell her,” Aegon pleads. “She can’t cope with it. She doesn’t want to believe it. I haven’t figured out how to tell her yet. Please don’t say anything.”

“Of course I won’t,” Autumn replies, tenderly now, tears brimming in her small hazel eyes. She knows exactly what it feels like to lose the man you love. “Here,” she says, pointing to the chamber pot. “Let me help you get rid of that.”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader

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chelleztjs18 · 1 year

Text

Biggest Fans (E.O)

Fem!Writer!Reader x Elizabeth Olsen

Summary: It was a casual lunch day out for you and Lizzie until the unexpected thing happens.

Warning: None. I'm just feeding you with fluff story. :D

A/n: Hello! It's me with another fluff fic! Thank you for your patience. I'm trying my best to write more and give you more contents. Also, this might be the last time I will post with the taglist. I'm planning on making a library side blog. I will update you once It's ready. Anyways, happy reading!

P.S: The italic prints means texting convo in this fic. The bold print means their thoughts.

Main Masterlist

“Hello. I really love your writing.” was how it all started. A friendly message you got but you never knew that it will lead to something unexplainable with such all good feelings you can’t describe. A message that led to other more messages between you and this girl. Before you know it, you talk to her 24/7 for almost a year. Flirtatious messages with various sweet pet names exchanges happen a lot between you two. Is it a friendship? It sure did start from that point. Is it more than that? You don’t know. All you know, you can’t hold back a smile every time you get a message from her through your writing blog apps. You always wait for her messages. The second you wake up, you will go to the apps to text her good morning and sometimes you would find that she beat you and left the morning text before you.

Liz, that’s her name. As much as you want to see her pictures or hear her voice through a phone call, you respect her request to wait until she feels comfortable to do so. You both agreed to not talk or ask anything personal just yet. Despite all that, both of you never run out of things to talk about which is what you love about her.

You hear your text notification from your phone and your heartbeat doubling in speed instantly. You knew who it was and as usual, you are smiling reading anything she texts you.

_____

*Ding* Lizzie's phone informs her another message replies. She laughs a little and then smiles the whole time while she's typing her turn in the conversation.

Scarlet sees it from the corner of her eyes while she is checking out the restaurant's menu but she can't help herself to ask, "Is that from your writer girlfriend?” She teases Lizzie.

“Huh? What? No, she’s not my girlfriend.” The younger actress realizes Scar’s teasing question and denies it instantly. A blush shows up on her cheek obviously.

“Well, you both have been talking all this time. You have been all smiling every time you text with her. Wait, how long have you been talking with each other?”

“Well, you told me about this whole fanfiction writing blog stuff like around june last year i think?” The brunette answers.

“That’s almost a year! Wow and she still doesn’t know who you are? Or at least your voice? Does she know that you are from Los Angeles? She seems pretty patient about that."

"Uh yes. I gotta admit, she has been understanding about it very much. Sometimes I feel that it's unfair to her because I have heard her voice on the voice notes she left me. She sounds really cute. And, yes. She knows that I'm from here just like her." Lizzie expresses her thoughts and doesn't realize that another smile curves on her face.

"Aww. That's cute! You like her, don't you?" The blonde actress asks as she wiggles her eyebrows teasing her best friend once more.

Lizzie laughs and covers her face in embarrassment. "Who wouldn't like a nice sweet funny girl that you can talk to about everything 24/7?"

“Haha! I knew you like her!”

“Uh maybe we should order some food now, the waitress has been asking us twice, Scar.” Lizzie looks at the menu to avoid eye contact and to not let the topic go further.

“It wasn’t my fault, you were the one who kept forgetting to see what you want because you are busy texting with your girlfriend.” Scarlet teased and soft crimson shades slowly show up on Lizzie’s face.

“Oh look, Liz! She just posted a new fic. Ouh, I wonder what it is about now.” A mix of excitement and curiosity floats around her as she playfully makes a little dance move with her shoulders.

“Oh, she posted it earlier than she planned, that's good. It’s a Wanda story. She told me the idea, it’s about—-” before Lizzie can finish her words, Scarlet interrupts her.

“Nope. nope. Nope.. No spoilers please. I’m gonna read it later.” Scarlet raises her index fingers as her stop sign.

Lizzie laughs at her antics. “Okay, okay. All I’m gonna say is, it’s a really good plot. You’ll like it.”

The girls order their food and spend some time catching up.

_____

Liz:

“Have you eaten lunch yet, sweetie?

Y/n:

“Not yet. I was too lazy to get out of my apartment but since you keep reminding me to eat something, I am getting lunch now. 😁"

Liz:

"Are you going to cook something?"

Y/n:

"No. I'm just gonna go to this restaurant I love. I'll be right back, darling. I'll text you when I get there, love. 😘"

Liz:

"Okay, talk soon. 😘"

Even just the short conversation makes you and Lizzie feel like you are on cloud nine, drunk with happiness.

______

Some fans sometimes come to them for pictures or autographs but both Marvel actresses were enjoying their lunch and their leisure time together until one message from you popped up. Lizzie's eyes widened, her stomach turned and her heart dropped after she read what you sent her.

Y/n:

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Liz! You will not believe who I see right now! Elizabeth Olsen!! I see her at the restaurant I'm at now. She is so gorgeous. She's with Scarlet Johansson right now."

"Oh my god. Shit. Scar, she's here." Lizzie exclaimed in whispers, trying her best to keep calm and look around casually so it wouldn't look obvious.

"Huh? What happened? Who's here?" The Black Widow cast asks in surprise and confusion at the same time.

"Y/n. She's here!" She whispers.

"What? How did you know?" Scarlet pitched out another question as she kept her head straight looking at Lizzie.

"She sent me this." Lizzie lets Scarlet read your message.

Then another message popped up.

Y/n:

"I really want to come up to her and say hi."

"Gosh, now she's gonna come here and say hi." Panic starts to scream a little in Lizzie's tone and she shows her phone to Scar again.

"You don't know what she looks like, right?" Scarlet asks.

"No. I don't know that she is a huge fan of.. you know, me." Lizzie taps her fingers rapidly and nervously.

"Well, d'uh, Lizzie? She writes fics about you and Wanda." The blonde laughs a little and shakes her head.

"Oh yeah. Yeah. You are right. My brain just can't think—" Lizzie tries to respond but gets interrupted. "Straight?" Scar finishes her words in a teasing smirk.

Lizzie rolls her eyes and holds her smile knowing what Scarlet really meant. A fan comes and asks for a selfie with them.

As soon as the girl leaves, Lizzie asks Scarlet in a whisper, "Do you think it was her?"

"Well, I don't know, Liz. Oh text her and ask if she decides to come to Lizzie" Scarlet pitches the idea as she forms an air quote on Lizzie's name.

The now nervous younger Olsen sister follows the suggested idea and texts you.

Lizzie:

"So, did you decide to go say hi to her?"

A few minutes passed and she hasn't got any reply from you. Then another fan politely interrupts the silence.

Lizzie doesn't realize that she stares at the girl a little longer while her mind wonders if it's you until Scarlet nudges her elbow and she continues talking friendly then takes another selfie with their favorite MCU casts.

The more fans come to them, the more it drives her mind all over the place and keeps guessing which one was you. Her curiosity makes her ask each fan their name, just in case it was you. Anticipation is killing her by now and she decided to text you again.

Lizzie:

"Babe? Are you okay? How was it?"

Silence was still what she got. "Why hasn't she replied yet?" She asks herself with a little frustration as she keeps checking on her phone for your reply.

"Well, if she already came to you then what would you do?" Scarlet questioned the brunette.

“I don’t know.” Lizzie shows her thinking looks as she mindlessly bites her nails. Then her phone brings her back out of her daze. “Oh! That must be her.” She talks to herself as she undoubtedly checks her phone.

A Surprised facial expression appears as she sees your message with a picture of her that you took from afar earlier.

Y/n:

“Look how beautiful she is. I saw that she was very sweet to her fans. I think I'm not going to come up to her. I feel bad that she doesn't have her privacy to have her lunch, people keep coming to her. I’m just gonna finish my food and maybe go home after that.”

Lizzie tries to look as calm as she can as she wonders where you are sitting from the view of her picture you took then looks back to check the picture again and avert her eyes around. “Scar, don't look around, I don't want to look obvious that we are wondering which one is her but here, look what Y/n texted me.”

As soon as Scar saw the pictures and read the message, she almost couldn’t help herself to turn her head to where you possibly were but Lizzie stops her.

“Aw she’s so sweet and thoughtful.” The blonde comments. “So, if she’s not coming to see you, what are you going to do now Liz? She added.

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking of asking her if she wants to meet up or at least have a video call. Should I try to come and have a spontaneous meet up with her here right now? She said she’s leaving soon.” Lizzie rants out her thoughts as she casually searches around that might give a clue which one is you.

A full minute of silence from Lizzie as Scar waits for the answer of her question. The brunette finally breaks her silence. “Uhm.. I don’t know. Uh, I… I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back, Scar.” but being friends with Lizzie since she joined Marvel makes Scarlet know her pretty well like the back of her own hand.

Scarlet gently grabs Lizzie’s arm to quickly stop her from getting up. “Wait, wait, wait Liz. I know you. You are not going to the bathroom, you are going to find her, aren’t you?” The blonde actress guessed in a teasing tone and smiled.

No words come out of her lips but a little smirk forms and that’s all Scarlet needs as an answer then she lets go her hand off Lizzie’s arm. “Well, good luck. Have fun on your first date with your girlfriend. Text me if you want me to wait or not.” Scarlet cheers her and wiggle her eyebrows.

With that, Lizzie walks away to find you.

_____

Unfortunately, today is a pretty busy day at the restaurant. After a few steps away from her table towards the direction she guessed where you are at, most tables are occupied. Her eyes look for a woman she thinks looks like your age and any other clue that can help her.

At first she looks for a woman who is on her phone but she realizes it won’t help. Most people are on their phone these days. Then she remembers that you posted a story earlier, her mind instantly thinks that you have your laptop with you on your table right now while having your lunch. It helps her narrow down her obstacles to find you after she sees some women has their laptop with them.

She tries to be as casual as she can. Some pairs of eyes recognize her and some don’t or perhaps they are just trying not to stare at her. She then texts you again, a subtle question that won’t be too obvious that she wants to know if you are still there or not.

Lizzie:

“How’s your food babe? Are you still having your lunch?”

A few minutes of silence, none of your replies come to her inbox. “Dang it! She probably turns her phone on vibrate mode again.” she thought to herself, knowing your habit.

Meanwhile, you are trying to prevent yourself from staring at your idol from far away so you are focused on writing your new romantic fic, you can’t keep Liz out of your mind. All those sweet touchy ideas and stories you wrote were inspired by her or your conversations with her. It even sometimes makes you smile. You miss her today but you know her plan for today, spending time with her best friend so you try to let her “girls day out” time.

As you get distracted by your own feelings of missing her, you can’t help yourself and you grab your phone to text her only to find out you missed her text.

You quickly reply.

Y/n:

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t see your message. My phone was on vibrate. Yes, I’m still here, but I’m done with my lunch and just waiting for my check. I hope you are having a great time with your best friend. I can’t wait to chat with you again. I miss you.”

Just like that, your message definitely dropped a bomb of jumbled feelings on her. She reads it in awe, her heart feels light and she feels giddy when she reads that you miss her yet she is now alarmed that her time is running out and she needs to pick up her pace to find you. Like a cherry on top, the nervousness gradually grew over the other mixed up feelings.

She directs her eyes from one table to another table as she walks. She starts to feel more anxious that she would miss the chance to meet you, her mind rapidly thinks.

Her fingers start to get cold, her heart beats race but a final resort of thought jumps into her mind.

She takes a deep breath. “Fuck it.” She mumbles and she opens the apps on her phone then calls you and her eyes are ready to spot you whenever you pick up her calls. “Come on, y/n. Pick up the phone.” she mumbles once more with full of hope.

_____

The waiter drops off your bill. While you are checking on it, you notice that your phone vibrates.

Your stomach does somersaults and your heart cheers with such thrill, you swear you could hear it. Despite all that, you are nervous. You stare at your phone screen for a good few seconds, questions bouncing around in your head as you tap your finger on the table nervously.

Why is she calling me? Is this an accidental call? Should I answer it? What if I got speechless?

_____

Lizzie hears you answer the call on the other end of the line. Her eyes jump from one person to another and her heart skips a beat when she finally spots you. She knows it was you as soon as she sees you has the phone with your left hand.. “H–hello? Liz?” She can hear your highly strung voice and her feet lead her to your table slowly.

“H-hi y/n. Yes, it’s me Liz.” her timorous voice wrapped in excitement makes its way to be heard.

“Uh-it’s so nice to finally hear your voice. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you were gonna call. I wasn’t prepared.” you let out a nervous laugh.

“Oh yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you first I was gonna call. I got your text. I miss you too. So, I decided to call you. So are you leaving soon?” Lizzie can’t stop smiling while she talks to you.

“Uh yeah, pretty soon. I just got my bill. Are you still having lunch with your best friend? Where are you now?” you ask curiously. You start to calm down from your sudden nervousness.

“Aaw, you are leaving? I think it would be a great idea if you stay a little longer.” She ignores your question yet pitches out an idea that caught you in confusion.

Of course you asked “And why is that?” followed by a little laugh. All you can think is how cute she sounds. You always think that she is cute but to think that her voice melts your heart this easily? No, you never thought of that. Or perhaps you fell for her, so hard.

“Because I’m right here.” She answers enthusiastically. Lizzie tries to take her exhilaration down a notch to avoid attention from people surroundings.

“Wait, what? You–you are here? What did you—” you stop your words as soon as you feel a presence in front of you. From the corner of your eyes, you can see someone standing and you quickly look up to see who it is. “---mean?” you finally finished the word you were gonna say in a very low voice. You felt like you just got struck by lightning. Your eyes refuse to blink, your mouth is slightly open. You are stunned, or you can even say that you are frozen like an ice sculpture. You are shocked and confused why in the world the most beautiful woman, the woman you idolized so much, is standing right in front of you, smiling and her green eyes sparkling in happiness looking at you.

“Uh–I–uh-W-wait–Liz..hold on..Lizzie Olsen is standing right in front of me and you just told me that you are here. So..does it mean–” you stupidly still hold your phone against your ear and talk on the phone.

Lizzie lets out a cute laugh and thinks how cute you look. “Hello, I really love your writing." She intentionally said the same exact words with her first message to you through the phone.

Her intention to prove to you that the Liz who you have been talking to this whole time and her are the same person worked. You swiftly connect the dots and are convinced by the truth. “Oh…OH!!! Oh my god! Liz? Lizzie? I have been talking to you this whole time?” You yell in a whisper, trying to suppress your popping elations. Your skin slowly turns red.

She laughs a little louder at your reaction but she tries to calm you down as she leans to you a little and whisper “Y/n, shusshh. We wouldn’t want to attract more attention than we already have right now.” She puts her index finger on her smiling lips.

“Oh, yeah yeah. Sorry.” you take a deep breath and exhale them out. “Okay, okay. I’m good.. I–I’m good. Uh–” you ramble.

“Can I join you?” she asks softly.

“Yes, of course. Please have a seat.”

"So this is the blind date we have been talking about?" The iconic laugh of hers follows right after her teasing question.

"Well, it's more surprising, unplanned and spontaneous than I thought it would be but y-yes of course! This is it.. this the blind date." You awkwardly yet subtly try to fix your look in front of her.

Oh that smile, those green eyes and even her perfume have successfully turn your brain into a mush.

You are hypnotized by the ethereal views in front of you and you are lost in your thoughts. You still can’t believe you have been talking to her this whole time, romantically to each other. The one and only gorgeous Elizabeth Olsen has been telling you that she loves everything you write and everything about you.

Both of you have been the biggest fans to each other this whole time and nothing can beat that.

A/n: Welp, that's it for today. Let me know what you think and I hope you like it. Reblog and comments are highly appreciated. Follow me for more. See you in next!

Cheerio!

Taglist: @madamevirgo @musicinourlips @unstable-sapphic-hoe @fanboy7794 @chloe7076 @b0mbdotc0m @trikruismybitch @ichala @californianwhiterabbit @honey-sweet-hiraeth @imfuckinggenius @sxfwap @chaekhan @daenerys713 @luvmcgrath @stupidsapphicsstuff @pattypavo @stonemags @frvny @franfineashell @heyyoweveryone @ygtft-chen @yaaskasey @sweeet-likeeee-cinnamonn @paumxmff @dopeyouth @beaniejennie @ineedafinghug @idkwhatimwriting @lucydiibi @mainly-rebloging-fics-i-like @gloriousfoxruins @grxvitye @mcubreakdown101 @aos22 @wandanatstan @paulawand @yeeterthekeeper @femalehomosexual666 @snowdrop1026 @modernmonalisa @nothingisrealanyway @idamaemann @sweeterlust @royalityofmultifandom @playboysaleen @peabrain112 @gwhaley127 @harleyswanda @bodhi-j @darth-rain @cristin-rjd

#elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x y/n #elizabeth olsen x you #lizzie olsen x reader #lizzie olsen x y/n #lizzie olsen x you #elizabeth olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen fluff #lizzie olsen fanfic #lizzie olsen imagine #lizzie olsen fluff #mcu cast

626 notes · View notes

watsittoyah · 11 months

Text

Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, time travel, oral sex, rough sex, fang play, size kink, breeding kink, slight angst…

(My Spanish isn’t great, so I did use google translate to help…)

Chapter 7- Everything is not what it seems…

It was the last night of your vacation and you really didn’t want to go back home. You were relaxed and well rested.

“Here mi amor. This piece is juicy.” Miguel feeds you a piece of mango and you moan because of the taste and juice. “I am going to miss eating mangos on this hammock.” You say as you sit up.

“I’ll miss it as well, but we can always come back.” Miguel kisses your shoulder and cuts more of the mango and eats a piece. You then remember what awaits you when you get back to Nueva York and you groan leaning against Miguel’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I still have to have that dinner with your ex. Do you think you can get Spider-Man to help me out?” He hands you another piece. “I can see what I can do. Maybe I can swoop in and save the day.”

“Yeah, maybe you can like throw her out a window too.” Miguel shakes his head. “Amor…”

“Okay, okay. I’ll throw her out the window.” You joke. Miguel gets up and he helps you out of the hammock. “Let’s go my little villainess. I have one more thing that I want to do with you before we have to get back home.”

“I thought we were staying in tonight?” You ask as you two walk into the house. “We are and we aren’t. You go ahead and get dressed and meet me in a few. Wear that pretty dress I bought you and wear those gold heels.” Before you could ask anymore questions, Miguel had ushered you into one direction while he goes another.

I guess you’re getting dressed.

You had a few things packed up like your souvenirs, and your clothes you’ve wore and washed. You pull out the gorgeous scarlet red dress that Miguel wanted you to wear. It was floor length and you take out your six inch golden heels.

As you get dressed, you look around the room and smile. This week was probably the best week you’ve ever had. You got to go scuba diving, seen the sights. You even got to eat delicious foods and spent a great amount of time with Miguel. This vacation was well deserved.

You put on your earrings and look yourself over in the mirror. This dress made your body look amazing. It clung to the right places and smoothed out others. You grab your lipstick and carefully put it on, you pull your braids up in a high bun and smile. “Perfect.”

Your heels clack across the floor and on the way out of the room you freeze. Something about this, it seems familiar. “What is up with this feeling?” You take a step forward and find Miguel wearing a suit.

“Miss Valentine. Please come with me.” He holds out his hand to you and you take it, hiking up your dress just a little so you don’t trip.

You hear music playing and you follow Miguel until you see a candle light dinner. “Miguel when did you have time to do this?” You ask as he pulls out your seat for you.

“I’ve had this planned since the first day. You know it’s pretty tricky making sure you didn’t know until now.” He says as he sits down.

On the table were red rose petals and two covered dishes. He nods for you to see and you expect to find food under the tray but instead you see a box.

“Miguel what’s this?” You look up and see him standing. “Just a gift for the wonderful woman in my life.” He picks up the box and opens it. Revealing an opal and rose gold necklace. “Here let me.” Miguel places it the necklace on for you and you immediately get up. “Baby, thank you, thank you, thank you!” You kiss him leaving lipstick marks all over his face. He smiles as you wipe it off. “There’s one more gift. Now close your eyes, and hold out your left hand.”

You frown at the instructions but you do as you’re told. “Mantenlos cerrados, princesa.” He says to you. “Miguel my eyes are closed, come on.” You feel him waving his hand in front of your eyes and you stand still in anticipation.

You then hear a loud alarm and you openly your eyes out of fear. “Forgive me. I need to answer this.” Miguel walks away from you and he speaks into his smart watch. You can’t hear what he’s saying but the look in his eyes he gets looking over at you tells you that he’s going to have to leave.

He walks back over to you after he was done with his conversation and he looked guilty. “What’s wrong?” You ask feeling scared. “It’s nothing serious, but I need to leave for just a few hours. As soon as I’m done I’m coming back to you. I guess you’ll have to wait for your other surprise.” Miguel kisses your cheek and he runs into the house.

“Wait Miguel! Where are you-“ You enter the house and strangely you knew he wasn’t there. “Going… Miguel?” You call out to him but there was no answer. Your hand touches the necklace and you sigh.

This is your life now, dating a hero means you’ll have special moments like this and it’ll get interrupted. Which this was okay. This is what you signed up for. The thing that you didn’t understand was how did Miguel just disappear from the house?

••••

Erica was smothering you with her boobs and telling you to never leave her that long again. “Get your tiddies out of my face!” She lets you go and you scoop up Milo. “Hi baby boy. I missed you.”

“You heifer! You don’t miss me but you miss my cat? Give me my son.” You laugh and give her a side hug. “I missed you too E. I got you and our friends some souvenirs. Let me just go unpack and then I’ll give it to you.”

You put Milo down and he meows and runs to the kitchen. “You’re a whole different breed, T. You’re the only person I know who gets home and immediately unpacks.”

“Who sits there and unpacks weeks or months later?” Erica points to herself. “Normal people.” You roll your eyes at her and she watches you unpack a bit.

“Where Miguel? I figured you two would be joined at the hip and talking about getting married by now.”

“He had to handle some business. So he won’t be spending the night.” Erica studies you and she sits on your bed. “What’s wrong?” You want to tell her the weird feeling you had but instead you bring up the other subject thats on your mind.

“So long story short, I have to have dinner with Miguel’s ex.”

“WHAT!? Explain please I need details, I need to know her name. What does this hoe look like?” You knew Erica was down for whatever and you loved her for it. “I’ll pause unpacking and tell you everything if you grab your laptop, some snacks and something harder than lemonade.”

“Girl shit you ain’t say nothing but a word. I’ll be back on five minutes. Milo! Don’t come in here we’re doing hot girl shit!”

About an hour later, Erica was stalking Dana’s socials. “She had the nerve to say hmm I see he has a type.” You say as you take a sip of wine. “The fuck is that suppose to mean? See she was kinda cute but that was ugly. I see why he dumped her ass. Just a bully.”

“I will say she does look like a model. And she has pretty hair.” You say as you twirl your fingers around one of your braids. “Girl I know a Brazilian twenty four inch bust down when I see one, snatch that bitch off and she’s bald headed. She’s not all that. Miguel upgraded when he got with you. Oop hold up, look at this.”

You move across the bed and you look at Erica’s laptop. She points and on her Facegram she had posted a memory.

The memory was a photo of her and Miguel at some fancy dinner. The caption says: Here with my date, isn’t he the cutest?

Miguel looked blankly at the camera while Dana was smiling like a child on Christmas.

“Save my boy, Miguelito! He looks miserable.” Erica bursts out laughing and you look at the date. “This was from last year. From today. Why did she repost this today?” You ask out loud. “I don’t know she’s weird. Didn’t you say that Miguel said she had issues?”

You nod and you take Erica’s laptop and look at Dana’s post. You look at her page and see she has a few posts about charity evens and even some posts about vacations, but those were dated months ago.

Why did she repost this picture the day you came back from your vacation? Were you being paranoid? Was there something behind this?

You close the laptop and you down the rest of your wine. “I’m going to keep an eye out on her. There’s something about her that I don’t like.”

“Well I don’t like her period. So when you go to that dinner I’m coming.” You give her a look. “Now how are you going to be coming?” She shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m not letting you be alone with that wanna be Bratz doll. Wait I take that back, I liked my Bratz dolls when I was little. She’s more like a furbie. You know those ugly little things back in the day?” You nod and get up out of your bed.

“I’m getting some more wine do you want some?” Erica yawns and shakes her head. “No, but I’m sleeping in your bed tonight. I hope you don’t mind.” You leave the room and as you get some more wine you see your phone light up on the counter. You check it and see you have a voicemail from Miguel. You go ahead and give it a listen.

“Hola amor. I’m sorry for not seeing you off to your apartment. I’m going to be busy for a while. It’s some lab things and you know my other job. But I want to say again that I enjoyed being with you this past week. And when I am finished up, I want to talk to you about something. Huh? Oh…Tommy mi amor, I love you. I’ll talk to you soon.” The voice mail ends and you smile at your phone.

As you turn to go back to your room, you swear you see something pass the window. You stop and you look at the window.

Something…

Something was at the window but you don’t see it. You walk up to the window even though in your head, it’s telling you to stop. It’s telling you to turn around and don’t look at the window. You cup your eyes and search and-

“T! Can you make sure Milo has water?” Erica calls out. “Yeah sure!” You say back as you turn your back to the window.

You can’t see it, but something was out there…

•••

“Are you sure you can’t kidnap me for the night?” You ask as you look at your calendar as you switch your phone from your left to your right ear. Miguel chuckles over the other end. “Amor, if it’s so bad then just push back the dinner.”

“I did, twice. I can’t push it back anymore. I have to go tonight. Can you stay close by?” You ask him as you grab a pleated skirt and cute shirt from your closet. “I will, but I thought Erica was going to be with you?”

“Her boss is making her work late tonight.” You tell him. “I’ll be close by, amor. I promise.” You groan at your outfit because you wanted to be perfect. You didn’t want Dana to out dress you.

“Amor, I know you. Are you overthinking your outfit? Video call me, and show me.” You two hang up and then you video call Miguel. He answered immediately. You prop your phone on your desk and then you show him your outfit.

“I feel like I look like a school girl in this.” Miguel motions for you to do a spin and you do it. “I see nothing wrong with a school girl look. Maybe you should save that outfit for us later. We can role play the naughty school girl and the horny professor.”

You try to keep the smirk off of your lips but fail. “Miguel I’m serious. The dinner is casual but I feel like it’s a trick somehow.”

“Dana is the type to go against dress code. How about that emerald dress? You know the one that’s thigh length? You can wear the matching heels I had bought you and have your hair down.”

You get the outfit together and you change into the outfit. You hear Miguel clapping. “Yes! Esa es mi chica! You look beautiful. I’m pretty sure Dana will be jealous of your outfit.” Your face warms up and you smile. “Thank you, I should let you dress me up more often. Being your doll is kind of fun.”

“Mm, I prefer undressing you, amor…I wish I could be there. I miss those lips.” You sit at your desk and lean forward, letting him see your chest. “Which pair?” You joke. He stares for a moment and then he look up at you. “Both, if I’m being honest. Life as Miguel and Spider-Man can be very tiresome.”

“It is, but I’m proud of you. I’ve been keeping tabs on you and I clipped some newspaper strips.”

“You sound like my biggest fan. I bet you have a scrap book started.” You raise your brows. “How did you know?” He bursts out laughing. “Because I know you amor. When I’m all done and when you’re done with your dinner, I’ll come over. Draw you a bath and you can tell me about everything.”

“That actually sounds so good…oh I have to get going. Baby, how will I know you’re around?” You ask him. “Well you two are having dinner at the Moore Lounge. I’ll be close by. Trust me you won’t miss me.” You nod as you grab your clutch and your keys. “I’m leaving now, I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

“I love you too amor.” You both hang up and you tell Milo to be good as you leave the apartment.

You arrive at the Moore Lounge and as you head inside you walk over to the host. “Hello I’m here for the D’Angelo party.” The host gives you a smile. “You must be Miss Valentine. Right this way please.” They lead you further inside and you were brought to the upper level.

They open a private room and there Dana sat. She looked bored until you came in sight. She got up and walked over to you. “Tommie, it’s so good to see you again.” She kisses your cheek and you feel a shiver because her lips felt cold.

“It’s nice to see you as well.” You lie. She takes a step back and she was wearing a mustard yellow form fitting dress. How did this girl make an ugly colored dress look so good? You think to yourself. “You look so pretty, and your hair.” She reaches over to touch it but you move back.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I know how you people get when being touched.”

What the fuck is that suppose to mean?

You ignore that comments and she ushers you to the table. “Miss D’Angelo thank you for giving Mr Stark the opportunity to work-” She waves your comment off. “Please, just call me Dana. I should be thanking you. If I got an invitation from my boyfriends ex I’d be suspicious. But you don’t have to worry about me. I want us to be friends since my father and your boss will be working together.”

A waiter comes in and asks if the two of you are ready to order. “I’ll have a bottle of your finest and I’ll have a steak medium well, shrimp, chilled and a fresh side salad. No dressing please. You can order anything you’d like. Money is no option.”

Why does that remark makes you feel as if she’s trying to be funny?

“Right…I’ll have the chicken carbonara, and a side salad, with thousand island dressing please and just an apple martini.”

The waiter lets the two of you know that your meals will be ready shortly

Dana leans over touching your knee and she smiles. “Again, thank you for coming tonight. I don’t have many girlfriends. The ones that I do have seem to like me for my connections, and not for me.” You nod feeling a bit sad for her.

“Thank you for inviting me. This place is very nice. And I’ve heard the food here is great.”

“I sure hope so, my father gifted me this place last year for my birthday.” You side eyed her as she checks her makeup in the reflection of a butter knife.

Okay spoiled much.

“Tommie, how’s Miguel been these days? Does he still work like a mad man day and night?”

“Well, yes. But he makes time for me. I just love how passionate he is when it comes to his job though.” Dana rests her cheek against her knuckles and she gives a smile. “Oh yes, I remember. There was this one time where we were going out but he had to cancel at the last minute and go to the lab. Tell me has he ever shown you his office? His desk is just so spacious.”

You grind your teeth because how does she know that?

“Yes, but from what Miguel told me you two only went out on one date.” You tell her seeing her eye twitch. “Well, yes. But it was one date in the public eye. Him and I were together for a while. Didn’t he tell you?” You try not to look pissed off and your eyes land out the window where you see movement.

You then see Miguel dressed in his spider suit and Dana moves her head to see what you’re looking at but you scoot in to stop her. “Enough about Miguel, I heard that your family does a lot of charity work. That’s impressive, what charities has your family done?” You ask.

“Oh tons, mostly some for cancer, some for orphans, I think we did one for a school in Africa but I don’t remember. My parents are the ones who does that sort of thing. You know you look really pretty. Like you’re model pretty.”

“Thank you. You’re too kind.” You tell her. “So, how long have you and Miguel have been together?” She asks as the waiter comes back with your drinks. “Oh, for a while.” You answer.

“But how long? Months? Several months? Has he shown you his…other side?” You pause before answering. “What other side are you talking about?” You challenge as you glance at Miguel out the window.

“Oh nothing too crazy. Just…Miguel tends to have a temper. But then again you know what they say about Latin men. And he is Irish. He just oozes red, doesn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t know, he’s only ever been sweet to me.” You say as you sip your drink. “Well aren’t you a lucky, lucky girl.” She says as she pours herself a drink. She sips it and watches you from the corner of your eye.

“Are you mixed? You look mixed.” She asks you. “No, my parents are both black. Why?” She gives a slight shake of her head and giggles. “Mm, forgive me it’s just Miguel dating a woman such as yourself seems so, well you know.”

“No I don’t. But do explain.” You say gripping your glass, thinking about throwing it in her face. “Well-”

The waiter comes in with your food and you couldn’t be more happy. Maybe her chewing will make you not want to jump over this table and knock her teeth down her throat.

As you cut into your food you see Dana looking into her phone. “Ah, did I mention my trip from Italy? It was gorgeous. The food, the culture. The men. All delicious.” She says as she places her phone down and she grabs her fork and knife.

“That’s nice.” You say keeping your replies short. “Tommie, I get the feeling that you don’t like me much. But I’m only looking out for you. You know seeing that we both have been with the same man.” You put your utensils down.

“Dana, I don’t know what sick and twisted things you’re trying to do but cut the shit. Miguel is a sweet man. I don’t know about his past with you and I don’t care-” She tries to interrupt but you stand up. “I’m not finished. You need help, and you need to get over whatever it is. Thank you again but I think I’ll be leaving.” You turn and she laughs.

“Oh sweet little Tommie. I’m only warning you because I was where you were. Miguel isn’t who he says and you deserve to know. And if you’re not careful you’ll become like me, the girl watching Miguel play with his new shiny toy. But you go ahead and play stupid, baby girl. When he breaks your heart. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You fight the tears as you leave the room and you continue walking to the parking lot. You know Miguel is close by but you rush into your car and you peel out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.

You don’t even know how you made it to your apartment without breaking down, but you slammed the door and kicked off your heels.

You felt hot all over as you unzip your dress and let it pool at your feet. You snatch the dress up and as you go to your bedroom you hear your window open, but you don’t bother to turn, you know who it is.

“Am-” You shoot Miguel a venomous glare and he takes a step back. “Tommie, what is wrong? What did she say to you?” You ignore Miguel for a moment and you grab a t shirt, throwing it on.

“Miguel, be honest with me. How many dates did you go on with Dana.” You turn to him as you pull your braids into a high ponytail. “Only one-”

“Then why in the fuck does she know stuff, Miguel? She knows intimate things that I know because I’ve been intimate with you!” You snap at him. He walks to you but you place a hand up and take a step back.

“Tommie, I don’t know what she told you but I’m telling the truth. I only had one date with her and I never even kissed her.” You take a deep breath through your nose.

“She made me look st-“ You clasp your hands together as if you were praying and you calm your breathing. “She made me look stupid, Miguel. She told me how you two were together for a long time, she told me about your office. About the spacious desk. She told me about your tempter that I’ve only catch glimpses of. How could she know those details? H..how.” You can taste the tears in the back of your throat.

He pulls you in and you push back. “Answer me!” You lash out. “Amor, I don’t know. But I’m telling the truth. Dana and I have never been intimate. When I left her, I knew she was heart broken but I didn’t think she would lie to you in this way.” You look up into his eyes and there. Right there you can tell he’s telling the truth.

“Miguel just go to your apartment. I want to be alone.” He shakes his head. “No, I’m not leaving you alone like this.” You try to push him back but he was solid. “Then go sleep on the couch. I want to be alone. I want to be alone.” You feel your shoulders shake as the tears you’ve been holding back finally falls.

You let out the tears and Miguel pulls you in, engulfing you in his arms like a security blanket. “I’m here. Estoy aquí mi amor. No te estoy dejando.” Miguel says as he kisses your forehead. You wrap your arms around him and you two stand in your room as you let the tears fall…

After an hour, you were sniffling and Miguel was rubbing your back as you two laid in bed together.

“It’s okay, pretty girl.” Miguel whispers as he wipes the remaining tears from your face. You turn your head so you’re facing your pillow. “I am not pretty right now. My eyes are puffy, my lips are chapped. I probably look like those bums that beg for change at the gas station.” You moan into the pillow.

“Well I’d give you every last cent.” You look over at Miguel after that comment and he leans in. “You’re stupid.” You laugh and he gives a smile.

“There’s my pretty girls smile.” You sit up and sniffle still. “I’m sorry for that. Yelling at you and just crying like a big baby.”

“No, amor. You don’t have to apologize for that. You were frustrated. I’d rather you let it out then bottle it up.”

“Dana just made me so mad. The way she talked down to me and how she talked about you. I was so close to hitting her.”

“I’m glad you didn’t resort to violence. But I think it would be best if you aren’t near her.” He says as he pulls you between his legs. “Yeah, because next time she won’t be so lucky. I have to ask, why the hell did you even date her?”

He gives a heavy sigh. “I did it out of pity and for her to leave me alone. Dana has this thing where she picks and picks until she gets what she wants. She had invited me to a charity event and when we arrived she looked bored. She only perked up when the cameras were around. But she was the most self centered, boring, egotistical woman I had ever met. She was even rude to the waiting staff and I just couldn’t take it. I told her that this wouldn’t work and I broke it off with her right then and there.”

“Hmm, she sounds fun.” You say to him. “She wasn’t my type of fun. But enough of Dana. I want to tell you about tonight, you’re going to love this.” You turn so you’re facing him and give him your ear.

“So there was this group of kids, and the smallest one was trying to catch up but I could tell he wasn’t going to make it across the street in time, so I land in front of him. Casi lo asusto. Poor kid, but he looked at me and he asked if I could help him cross the street.”

“And did you?”

“Of course. Once I got him across the street the other kids all crowded him, treating him like the coolest kid ever. I know it might not sound spectacular like saving people from a burning building, or stopping a mugger. But that smile on that little boys face was, the best reward ever.”

You push him back and get on top of him, kissing his face. “Can I just say that I am so proud of you? You do so much, and no matter the problem you find a way to solve it.” Miguel holds you by the hips and he rubs your lower back. “It’s nothing, amor.”

“Stop being so humble. You can flex a little baby. You deserve it.” You lean down and you kiss his stubbled face. “Oh, that tickles.”

“Debería afeitarme. I’m starting to look like my sperm donor.” You let out a laugh. “Well I think this stubble looks sexy. Makes you look rugged. Like those men who come home after cutting wood all day.”

“Oh, so thats what turns you on? Lumberjack men?” He flips you onto your back, causing you to scream as he tickles you. “Stop! Miguel! Stop!” He gives you mercy and he just looks at you. “What? You look like you have something to say.”

“Can I take you out tomorrow for a bite to eat?” He asks as he rubs his nose against yours. “Of course, I’m sure I can squeeze you into my busy schedule.” You wrap your legs around him and he kisses your neck, and starts kissing down to where your necklace sits. “Miguel, what are you doing?”

“I am admiring you. You are beautiful and before you wave my comment off, you deserve to flex. You deserve to do so, amor.” You roll your eyes. “I know you didn’t just quote me to me, you dork.” You tease as your hands reach under his boxers.

“Ay dios mío, princesa. What are you doing?” You look up at him fluttering your lashes at him. “I’m not doing anything bad.”

“Oh but you are being bad. You’re…mmmm, siendo muy mala. Amor, don’t just stroke me…guide it in.” He moans as he gently grips your throat. You bite your lip smiling at him as you scoot your panties off.

“Awe but Miguel, you called me a bad girl. And if I’m so bad, then why would I…” You rub him against your lips and clit and you watch his eyes flutter closed. “Tommie, por favor deslízalo, amor.” He begs which makes you giggle. “I like this side of you. You begging.” You slide the tip in and he moves his hand and he holds himself up by his elbows.

“Don’t tease me. Por favor, cariño, no te burles de mí.” You bite and pull at his bottom lip and you flick your tongue up as you see his fangs. “I’m a bad girl, remember? Why don’t you just thrust in? It won’t…take much effort.” You guide him a little deeper and in a snap his eyes went from a dreamy hazel to a blood shot red.

He thrusts in and he places a hand over your mouth. “If you were my good girl, then I’d let you moan. But you were a bad one. Now lay there and just take it. And if you let out even a whimper without my permission, I will stop. Me entiendes?” You nod, letting him know that you understand and he thrusts in as he holds your hands above your head.

“Esto es demasiado bueno. This is just too good amor. I bet you want to moan and let me know you want me to go deeper.” You nod and he gives a chuckle.

“Too bad, you’ll get it how I want it. And I want it like this.” He does a quick thrust and he slows down then slides out. “Would you look at that amor. I guess I have to slide it back in.” Without warning he thrusts it back up almost causing you to groan.

“Qué fue eso? Huh? Did a sound just come out of that pretty mouth?” You shake your head and he slides back out almost getting a whimper out of you. “Awe, princesa. I bet you want to speak. I bet you want to moan my name. Don’t you? Go ahead you have permission to answer me.”

“Yes, yes I want to moan. I want to m-” He puts a hand over your mouth. “That’s enough.” He bites your neck which catches you off guard and causes you to let out a loud moan.

Miguel draws his fangs back and he raises a brow at you. “Oh I heard that. But I’m a merciful man, am I not?” You nod and he slides out of you and he pulls you over so you’re on top. “You’ll listen and be a good girl this time, right amor?”

“I’ll be good. I promise.” You tell him as you straddle him and feel his dick resting against your lower stomach. “Buena, now show me how I like to be ridden, belleza.” He places his hands behind his head and you hike yourself up.

You position yourself above his dick and when you slide down he moans. “Oh fuck.” His dick throbs as it stretches you out and you place your hands on his chest to keep yourself balanced.

“No tengas miedo. Show me how good girls ride.” Miguel takes one’s of his hands and he cups your right breast, massaging it. “I’m no…not scared.” You lean back and you rock your hips just how he likes it.

You lean your head back as you look up at your ceiling. You moan out his name as he calls you several pet names in Spanish. Miguel then moves his hips and you lean forward quickly. “I know what those clenches mean, amor. Come for me.” And on command it seems, you grab him upwards and you come as he holds you close to him.

He grabs a hold of your ass and he comes deep inside of you. “I love you, I love you so much.” He moans as both of your bodies relaxes together. You two look into each others eyes and you kiss him. “You are mine, Miguel O’Hara. Do you understand me? Mío.” You say rubbing his stubble with your fingertips. “That is right. I am yours amor. And your Spanish is getting better I see. Let me teach you something. Say this. Eres mi corazón en forma humana.”

“Eres mi corazón en forma humana.” You say perfectly. “Good, you did good, amor.”

“Thank you, but uh what did I say?” You ask as the two of you lay back down together. “Nothing bad if that’s what you’re wondering.” You give a scoff and you look at your ceiling again. “Baby? Can I ask you a question?”

“I hope it’s not about Dana.” You make a face. “Ew, hell no.” You lean up on one of your elbows and you look at Miguel’s profile. “Are there more people out there like you? Like an elite team of Spider-people?”

He chuckles at you question. “You can say that.” You get wide eyed. “Wait for real? Can I be a spider person?” He shakes his head. “Yes for real, but no to you becoming like me. I love you the way you are, and this job is tough. Anyways, what would I do if my heart got hurt?” Miguel strokes your cheek and you hold his hand close.

“I could be your side kick. Spider-Man and his trusty partner in Justice. Spider-Byte.” Miguel gives a yawn and cuddles you. “Maybe we can talk about a different type of partnership later. But for now let’s get some sleep.”

“Alright, good night Miguel.” You kiss his cheek one more time and he inhales your scent. “Good night, amor…”

••••

“Miguel, where are you taking me?” You ask as he drives further down town. Miguel was taking you out somewhere special and you were a bit anxious on where exactly. All you see were a bunch of buildings close to each other.

“It’s a surprise. But the hint I’ll give you is, this place means a lot to me. And to someone I cherish close to my heart.” Miguel says as he parks his car on the side of the street. You look around as you get out of the car and Miguel takes your hand.

He leads you to an apartment and he knocks on the door. A small woman with dark black hair answers the door and her eyes lights up when she sees Miguel.

“Ay! Mi bebe varon!” Miguel leans down and kisses the woman on her cheek. “Hola Mama. Esta es mi novia, Tommie Valentine.” Miguel looks at you and you give a shy wave. “Hello Ms. O’Hara.”

She opens her arms to you and you step in for the hug. “You are so beautiful! Oh! Come, come inside. I have lunch ready. Espero que ustedes dos trajeron su apetito. Miguel, help me in the kitchen. Tommie, please please have a seat.”

She leads you to the living room while Miguel heads to the kitchen. When she leaves you there, you look around and you see pictures of two boys.

One of them looks like Miguel but he had two missing front teeth.

“Oh he looks so cute, the other little boy must be his brother.” You hear Miguel laughing in the kitchen and you walk in to see what’s going on. “Mom, I don’t think we can eat all of this food.”

“Nonsense, you’re skin and bones, niño. I remember when you use to eat three plates of my food. And then take from your brother.”

As you watch the two of them you smile. Seeing Miguel interact with his mother was adorable. “It smells really good in here, Ms O’Hara.” You say to Miguel’s mother.

“Tommie, you don’t need to be formal. You can call me, Conchata. Or mom if that’s easier. Anyways has my son been eating? He seems to have lost some weight.”

“Oh Miguel loves to eat.” You say giving him a side eye. He glares at you but shakes his head with a smile. “Well, mom. Tommie feeds me well. In fact this morning-” You step in. “Here let me make you a plate, you look famished.”

Conchata stops you. “You sit, both of you. I’ll make the plates. Tommie, I have pork shoulder, Spanish rice, some salad. Oh I have chicken and I think the ice tea is cold. Niño please grab it for me. Tommie, you aren’t a vegetarian are you? I should’ve asked.”

“No, I eat anything except jello.” You joke. She makes you your plate and she places it down and gets started on Miguel’s.

“Mom, ven a comer. I can make my plate.” She waves Miguel off. “Let me do this. It’s not like I get to do this often. You don’t visit me like your brother does.”

“Mom, you know I would come to visit more often but my job keeps me busy.” Miguel tells her as she places his plate down. “And Gabriel is a cop, but he comes and makes time for his mother.” Miguel gives her a look and goes to eat.

“Primero da las gracias, Miguel.” He sighs and takes my hand and his mothers hand. “Thank you lord for this food. Bless the hands who have prepared it. And lord, please let my mother understand why I don’t visit often.”

“Miguelito...” She warns. “Amen.” She kisses his temple and she gets her plate on the table. As you take the first bite you moan from the taste. “Conchata, this is delicious.” You take a few more bites and she gives you a kiss on your temple too. “Thank you, Tommie. You know Miguel has told me a lot about you. I can see why my son is so in love.”

“Mom, don’t embarrass me.” Miguel whines. “No te estoy avergonzando. You are in love, and that is beautiful. You know your brother he’s in love with his girlfriend. You would know that if you came for family dinners.”

Miguel just eats his food. “I know mom, I know.” He mutters as he chews his rice. “Tommie, make sure you save some room for dessert. I made tres leche cake. It’s Miguel’s favorite.”

“Oh, he’s made that a few times for me. Do you make it with lots of strawberries?” She nods. “I do, but lately they’ve become so expensive at the grocery store.”

“Well, my grandmother, she has a garden and she has a lot of fresh strawberries. Maybe I can ask her to give you some.”

“Ay niña, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure my grandmother would love to meet you as well.” As the conversation continues, you hear fire trucks in the distance. Conchata gets up and peeks outside of her window.

“Oh Dios mío! Mr Li’s pizza shop is on fire.” You look over at Miguel and he gives a slight nod. “Mom, I’ll be right back. I just need to use the bathroom.” Miguel gets up and you get up and walk Miguel’s mother back to the table.

“Conchata, can you tell me about Miguel when he was younger?” You ask to keep her distracted. “Miguel he was my sweet boy. Always sticking up for what’s right. He would come home with bruises but he would smile through the pain because he would make sure the bullies knew their place. But I taught him that he can use more than his muscles. He could use his brains. My sweet boy he created so many inventions in the garage I thought the fbi would come by the house at any moment.” She laughs at a memory and you touch her hand.

“Miguel is a brilliant man. I’m just lucky he’s in my life.” She touches your hand as well and touches your cheek. “My son is blessed to have you in his life. And just between us, I think you make him a better man. He was down for a while but when he did come and visit he mentioned how he finally got to talk to you. He said the pretty girl down the hall gave me a chance. Do me a big favor, niña. If he ever forgets himself, remind him who he is from time to time.” She winks at you and you smile. “I will.”

“Are you ladies talking about me?” Miguel says as he enters the kitchen. “No sé de qué estás hablando.” She says to him.

Miguel gives his mother a kiss on the cheek and he sits back down besides you. He holds your hand and that was perfect. “Mom, can we have dessert outside?” Miguel asks. “Sí. We can.”

After lunch the three of you were on the back deck and you feel Miguel hold you from behind as you look at the scenery. “Miguel not in front of your mother.”

“Amor, we aren’t doing anything my mother hasn’t done. Need I remind you she has two sons.”

“Miguel, behave yourself.” Conchata says as she places dessert on the table. “Oh no, I forgot to grab the coffee.”

“Mom, nosotros no lo necesitamos.” She gives her son a frown. “Miguel, tú y Tommie vayan a la tienda y compren el buen café.” Miguel goes to protest but stops. “Don’t take out your money, mom. I got it. Tommie let’s go.” You follow Miguel to the front and as you do you see the firefighters taping off the pizza place.

“How many people did you save?” You ask him. “Six. It was pretty easy, but I’m not bragging.” He says as he holds your hand. “Right, not bragging. So do they know how the fire started?”

You two cross the street and continue to walk. “They said it was faulty wiring. Hopefully Li can get that han-” Miguel stops and looks up. As you do the same you see something in the air flying around. “What is that?” You ask as it’s getting closer.

“Run!” Miguel yells as the green creature swoops down and throws what looks like a pumpkin.

As the pumpkin lands, you hear a high frequency sound and it explodes causing you, Miguel and the few people on the street to go flying.

You can feel your hand being ripped away from Miguel and when you land, you land hard. The wind was knocked clean out of you.

You sit up and all you see is the aftermath of the chaos. You look around for Miguel but he was nowhere in sight. “Miguel!” You call out his name and as you go to stand you wince. You definitely feel that you have a broken rib or two. You see an old woman on the ground. You go over and you help her up. As you check to see if she’s okay you hear laughing in the air behind you.

“Look at what we have here.” You turn and you see a person in what looks like a goblin costume. “Miss, go.” You usher the lady to go elsewhere and you take a step back. You then see a glowing red web and you see Miguel in his spider suit.

He swoops in and he sends a deadly punch into the gut of the goblin wearing freak. You hold your side as you start running to safety.

“My baby! I can’t find my baby! Please help me find my baby!” A woman runs and screams. You run to her to help. “Miss, what does your baby look like?”

“He’s….a small boy, he’s wearing a black panther shirt and-oh my god! Jacob!” You turn to where the woman is looking and you see a small child crying in the middle of the street. Your legs take off running before your brain can figure out what to do next. You see a large concrete slab fall but you swoop in and grab the boy just in time.

You run into a building and the boy was crying. “I want my mommy.” You hold him close. “I know, and I’ll bring you to your mommy. We just-” As you try to leave the building, you see another pumpkin fall and you run back inside. It explodes causing the building to crumble.

You go towards the back of the building and you cover the boys nose because the smoke just smells terrible.

You make it up the stairs of the building and you see a balcony. You wave down below for anyone to hear and you hear Jacob crying harder for his mom.

You set him down and you cough. “Hey, hey you’re Jacob right?” He nods and you hold his hands. “Jacob, I see you like super heroes, well I have a super hero friend. His name is Spider-Man.”

You feel wind past you and there was Spider-man. Jacob hides behind your leg and you kneel down. “This is my friend Spider-man. I know he can look big and scary, but he is going to bring you back to your mom. Is that okay?” Jacob nods and you pick him up and hand him to Spider-Man.

“Hold onto me miss.” You wrap your arms and legs around him as he hold Jacob in his other arm. As he swings through the buildings, you point to Jacob’s mother and he lands. He hands Jacob to him mother and she kisses his face, while telling Spider-Man thank you.

You unwrap yourself from him and you get a strange sensation in the back of your throat.

You bend over and cough out blood. As you wipe your lip you feel your legs give out. He catches you and you notice it’s harder for you to breathe.

“Amor, breathe. I need you to breathe.” He says in a panic as he holds you upright. You try to make your lungs work but they don’t listen. Instead you cough up more blood and you hear sirens in the distance.

“Tommie! Necesito que respires! Come on, baby breathe.” He shakes you a bit and you get tunnel vision as your throat fills with blood. “She needs help!” You hear Miguel scream as you lose consciousness…

Previously, Next

#miguel o'hara #watsittoyah #along came a spider #along came a spider 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x tommie valentine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x black reader #tommie valentine #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x female reader #spiderman smut #across the spiderverse #oscar issac hernandez estrada #oscar issac smut

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pastshadows · 3 months

Text

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 9: Midnight Masquerade

Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.8K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

Your eyes creep open when you hear the softly shutting door. Pushing yourself up, you smile while watching Astarion remove his coat, unbutton his chemise, and place it aside as shadows from the withering fire greet his pristine ivory skin.

“You’re gawking.” Astarion tsks with an endearing, lop-sided smile.

“Yes,” you smirk, drawing your lower lip between your teeth, “I am. Please continue undressing until you're bare.”

“Bold tonight, darling. Very bold.” He grins while removing his trousers and sits beside you on the bed, kissing your cheek, “I’m sorry I woke you. It seems I am out of practice.”

You give him an inquiring once over, “How did hunting go?”

No. Not out of practice. Hungry.

Astarion groans, rubbing his face, “Either I am truly not as subtle as I believe myself to be, or you know me exceptionally well.”

“A bit of this and a bit of that. Would you like to dine together?”

Astarion sweeps some stray strands of your hair behind your ear. His finger trails over your jaw and down your arm, “I can go a few more days.”

Rolling your eyes with a huff, you jostle him, “Foolish man.”

Astarion pulls you in and wraps his arm around your waist, pinning your back against his chest. You gasp as the temperature contrast sends shivers rocketing like a bolt of electricity down your spine while pulling your hair to the side and bearing your neck to him.

He kisses your shoulder, fingers ghosting up your stomach and between your breasts, “You like it when I feed on you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” your voice quivers with excited anticipation.

“Why is that?”

For a moment, you feel shy and become annoyed at yourself. You were never shy, not in general and certainly not with him. You’ve always been confident and unashamed - until he left.

“You know why.”

He mumbles against your neck, “I want to hear you say it.”

“It’s intimate - for me, at least.” You pause to quell the wave of embarrassment that heats your face. “It arouses me.”

“There’s my girl.” Astarion coos, pulling you tightly against him to hold you steady, “Ready?”

Astarion’s silken lips slide over your neck as he searches for the vein. He’s quick when he bites, so the sharp sting of his fangs puncturing the supple skin of your neck dulls to an icy throb promptly, and he draws liquid life leisurely in deliberate increments. Such an odd feeling, like being split in half; one part of you is corporeal while the other is a peaceful rain, drizzling and scattering through his veins as your souls intertwine, welcoming each other home. You relax into him with a sigh, and he groans against your neck blissfully.

You’re pleasantly lightheaded when you feel Astarion buck his hips, pressing his erection against your back, and he removes his fangs from you with care. His tongue flits against your skin to catch any residual blood as his thumb traces the contour of your breast.

“Delectable, as always,” he purrs near your ear, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you breathe huskily.

“It’s intimate for me, too,” he whispers, guiding your eyes to him gently. The scarlet pools shimmer as if made from stardust, immersing you in the cosmos, “Only with you.”

“And arousing?” You giggle, the faintness loosening your tongue.

He smirks and grinds his hard length against you, “Exceptionally. I thought that was obvious.”

You grin, “I wanted to hear you say it.”

“Lippy as well as bold tonight.” Astarion sucks on your lower lip, “I want to hear you cry my name.”

Hells. Yes. Yes, please.

He teases your nipples into peaks and sweeps the pads of his fingers against the sensitive tips, making your body twitch. Heat rushes and swells between your thighs as your heart rate climbs, seemingly skipping beats. Astarion’s fingers brush down your stomach to your hips, guiding them in little rolls against himself, and he growls low in his chest. His kiss is insistent and eager, tongue exploring your mouth with a passionate zeal that makes your core clench involuntarily.

Your ability to reason is quickly deteriorating, siphoned away as he dominates your senses. His fingers tentatively whisper over your sex, and your hips jerk up toward his hands, beseeching him for relief.

“Good Gods, you’re beautiful,” his voice husky and rich. “You’re wet.”

Be bold.

“Astarion,” you pant barely above a whisper, batting your eyelashes at him, “I’m soaked, nigh on dripping.”

“Yes, my sweet,” a corner of his mouth lifts in a smug smirk. “Look down. You have made quite a mess of my lap.”

Astarion’s fingers find your chin, and he gently directs your gaze down. Evidence of your arousal shines sleekly on his legs.

Your cheeks feel feverish, but you shore up your resolve to be brave, be you, “I’m not sorry.”

“Nor should you be. The way your body responds to me is unparalleled praise. I adore it.”

You watch as his fingers part your folds, easing the fiery heat between your legs. You sigh with a shaky breath, all your nerves humming, and your body trembles with the potency of your longing. Slipping your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, you silently implore him to keep sinking you into serenity.

Astarion rubs languid circles around the border of your aching clit, causing your body to shudder with delight and your hips to buck viscerally, matching his movements. You stifle a moan as he rubs and sweeps his fingers against your sensitive bud, swollen with need, making you spasm, yearning to be filled. Gods, you’re a convulsing mess in his lap, writhing under his touch.

“You want to be filled by me.” Astarion growls provocatively, his chest rumbling. It’s not a question and doesn’t require an answer. He is simply stating a fact. “I want to taste your desire. May I?”

“Yes,” you whimper, a plea upon your lips.

“Can I trust you not to scream?”

Any reserve or shyness you might have had has been devoured by the untamed wildfire of lust sweeping through you, a riptide made of flame. “Probably not,” you admit as your body jerks, muscles tensing as the tension starts to coil and pool in your belly.

Astarion giggles and tosses a pillow at you with a cunning smile, “Can I at least trust you to scream into that?”

You groan as he parades light kisses down your stomach, nipping your hip gently. Astarion parts your legs, his tongue running down the sensitive skin of your inner thigh while he places it over his shoulder. His fingers glide through your folds, coating them slick with your need. Astarion moans as his tongue divides your folds, and he laps at your aching clit with long and slow strokes. Your back arches off the bed with a hasty inhale, and you bite your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out.

His fingers tease your entrance, and your hips angle, appealing him to take you. He sinks them in, working you open and allowing your body time to adjust until he’s knuckle-deep. He’s inside you. Gods, he’s inside you, and it’s surreal. The pressure is heavenly, and you squirm, whimpering and sputtering his name in adoration, losing your composure. Astarion groans deep and sonorant, and it vibrates your sensitive pearl. His tongue pulses in an exquisite rhythm that numbs your mind while the tips of his fingers sweep over your G-spot with every perfectly orchestrated pump. Your lewd moans and whimpers are a sinful symphony that only he can orchestrate.

As the tension builds, your fingers clutch his hair as he drives you toward your crest. “Astarion…” Your eyes close as your pleasure increases. The pitch of your voice rising higher and higher, every muscle in your body taught, “Fuck! Astarion.”

Without missing a beat, he grabs the pillow by your hip and chucks it at you. You grasp that damn pillow like it might keep you afloat in this sea of pleasure you’re downing in. His lips envelop your clit, gently sucking, and he swallows your ecstasy with a hedonistic, contralto moan that strums your sensitive flesh. His scarlet eyes open and watch, captivated by you through dark lashes. You gaze into them as your euphoria crests over the edge, and you cry his name into the pillow, shuddering and contracting around him so strongly and violently that you forget how to breathe.

Astarion holds you firmly in place as he entices every shockwave and spasm out of you, releasing you when you’re panting his name, all but begging for mercy.

“Positively mouthwatering, my love,” he coos, kissing your flushed cheek as you try to collect yourself and catch the breath he stole from you.

You sputter nonsensically in reply as Astarion lays back with a contented sigh, drawing you close and guiding your head to his chest. His fingers brush through your hair, massaging your scalp affectionately. Your eyelashes flutter as you watch his erection twitch. Gods, you long for the heady taste of him so much that it makes you salivate at the notion, and you swallow hard.

“Astarion-” You start and trail off, unsure how to pose the question or even if you should, but you want it so badly it makes your desire ignite anew.

He requested I stop being overly gentle with him. I don’t know how, but I must try.

He looks at you with a cocked brow, follows your line of sight, and laughs, “Gawking again, are you? Did no one ever teach you it’s rude to stare?”

How could I not stare? Idiot.

“I, uh,” your voice is small, unsure, and so low that it would be impossible for anyone but him to hear. “I would like to do more than gawk - if you’re interested.”

“Oh,” he props himself up, “And what exactly would you like to do?”

You give him a sultry, smouldering gaze, biting your lower lip.

Comprehension overtakes his features, and he grins boyishly handsome. “I’m interested.” Astarion purrs, smoky and sensual, “Very interested. I would like to try.”

“Stop if you need to,” you murmur, kissing his forehead.

“I will.” He nods, “You have my word.”

He shudders as you place long, drawn-out kisses down his chest and over the chiselled muscles of his stomach until you’re in position. You wait for his approving nod and glide your flat tongue up his shaft before taking him in your mouth. Astarion sucks in a sharp breath as you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip. You relish his taste, the salt of his skin, and Hells, you will drink down everything he gives you. He tenderly sweeps your hair back, holding it out of your face, and you gaze up at him through hooded, seductive eyes.

Astarion watches raptly, mouth parted in pleasure, and your heart palpates, prancing in your chest. You suck, hollowing your cheeks around his cock, and his head lolls back with a groan. “Good Gods,” he murmurs, his fingers twitching and curling into your hair.

You let him guide the pace, and he urges you on as you bob your head, lips gliding down his hard length as he encourages you to take him deeper and deeper. “That’s it,” he pants his praises, watching himself disappear into your mouth, “Just like that.”

Your clit throbs, core clenching, at the sight of him. His face is twisted in pleasure, sweat glistening on the planes of his chest as it rises and falls rapidly. All for you. It takes everything you have not to straddle him and beg him to claim you.

Hells, he’s a sight to behold.

His head falls back, he moans loudly, and Gods, you can’t help but moan repeatedly in response.

His fingers in your hair quiver, his breath hitches in his throat, and his cock twitches on your tongue. “Love,” he whimpers with a shaky pant, “Fuck. You’re going to make me come.”

His hips jerk, cock pulses, and he cries and sputters your name as he empties himself into your mouth. You swallow every last drop with unadulterated greed.

“Mouthwatering, as always, love,” you taunt him with his words and a wry grin while licking your red, swollen lips. “I think you were louder than me. You should have used the pillow.”

His chest heaves, and he laughs, “You’re something else, you know that? That was…” His mouth hangs open, and he shakes his head with a grin, “You have left me speechless, my dear. I have no words.”

You giggle, his praise making your heart flutter, “Earth-shattering? Realm-ending? Devastatingly satisfying?”

Astarion pulls you atop him and kisses you deeply while pulling the blankets up to keep you warm, “All of that and more.”

You touch his temple, “And you’re okay up here?”

“I’m much more than okay,” he beams. His fangs glint in the firelight in plain view. He does not need to hide them from you. Astarion takes your hand and kisses the tip of your finger previously held to his temple. “I’m happy.”

With the tips of his ears flushed pink, his eyes vibrant and glinting like polished rubies, and the relaxed, glowing smile on his face, your heart swells in your chest and tears well up in your eyes and slide out the corners.

His brows knit together, “Love,” his fingers sweep the unbidden tears away, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” you cross your arms over his chest and rest your chin on your hands. “I’m just happy too.”

He closes his eyes, but he does not let himself slip. He hangs in that dreamscape between wakefulness and his trance while he listens intently to her heartbeat, a lullaby nestling in his soul. It’s only a matter of time before the nightmares that plague her impend on her rest, and when they do, he will be here to chase them away. She used to have troublesome dreams now and again, but she never used to wake up screaming. His chest tightens around his withered heart. Is it sadness, guilt or perhaps a mixture of both suffocating him?

He does not know. These are emotions he’s still not used to feeling, and he has difficulty discerning which is which. Centuries spent anesthetizing himself against everything, but loathing, disgust and anger have left him unaccustomed to little else. He’s so fragmented that he can’t even feel accurately, and sometimes, those insecurities still tell him that he should never have returned to her. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the shadows that fester in his mind.

He forces himself to drown in the oppressive ocean, trying to decipher it. Fear? Guilt? Shame? Sorrow? What in the Hells constricts his chest? What good is he to her if he cannot be sure of his feelings?

But he is sure of her, and that is enough.

Focusing on his body, he leans into that comfortable, warm weight of her draped over him, her breath a gentle summer breeze fanning his chest. He sinks into the comfort too much, and his mind wanders.

She’s coming toward him. Why? She advances slowly, but he still feels the reflex to step back. Her arms fold around him, encasing him in her warmth. He doesn’t know what to do with this kind of physical affection, so he just stands there rigid and bewildered, like a fool.

Sex – now that is a language he can speak fluently, but this, what in the Hells does he do with this?

He flexes his hands as if testing to see if they are capable of supplying this kind of intimacy. When was the last time someone hugged him, simply to hug him? Good Gods, when was the last time he hugged anyone back? His arms fold around her, slow and unsure. Is he doing it right? Is he too cold on her skin? How tight is too tight or too loose? Can she tell he has no fucking idea what he’s doing?

"You don’t have to hug me back, Astarion,” she mutters against his chest with a giggle. “Am I making you uncomfortable? Say the word, and I will stop.”

Pulling her tightly to him is the only reply he can manage. His voice will surely shake and betray his distress. She feels good in his arms like this, a surprise that shocks him more than the initial hug. He relaxes into the moment, and his mind stops its incessant whirling. She steps away too quickly. It takes everything in him not to pull her back and never let her go.

“You... you are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Her eyes bore into him, and his words tumble out, “Honestly, I have no idea what we are doing. Or what comes next,” he adds because he cannot promise her there is anything next. He may not be capable of being with someone. He simply doesn’t know how to be anything other than the rake. He offers her his hand, desperate to touch her again, to feel the comforting heat of her skin thawing the ice in his veins and the crystals that have formed in the ventricles of his long-dead heart.

She takes his hand without hesitation, and Gods, he could swear that his heart quivered in his chest, “But I know that this? This is nice.”

“Yes, is it.” Her voice is tight, and her fingers twitch against his palm, “I need to get some rest. Goodnight, Astarion.”

"Ah, yes. Of course.” He jerks his hand away, lacing his arms behind his back with a shallow bow, “Sleep tight, my dear.”

Walking towards his tent, he turns to ask her to stay with him tonight. That is what couples do. Isn’t it? They are a couple now, aren’t they? Why does the title matter to him? He doesn’t get the chance to ask as she trots away and disappears into her tent.

He slips into his trance with an ease he has not felt in some time, especially in this cursed place with its hungry shadows and eternal darkness, but something is moving around. Eyes snapping open, he wakes quickly, his daggers poised and ready to kill. He peers around the dim camp, blinking the remainder of his meditation away, forcing his mind to focus.

His ears twitch at the sound of breathy, muffled sobs, and he sheaths his daggers. He would know her voice anywhere, and he jogs toward the sound.

Her back is turned to him as he approaches the furthest corner of camp. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, pulled tightly to her chest, and her head rests on them. Her body trembles as she fights to keep her pain muted. He’s never seen her cry before, and he’s taken aback. He had seen her bleeding out and on the verge of death, and her eyes were only ever ablaze with determination.

“Darling,” he rasps and hates how startled his voice sounds. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

She jumps at the sound of his voice. Her hands come up quickly to wipe the tears from her face, and she plasters the worst concocted smile on her face he’s ever seen.

“Oh, uh, hello. Everything is fine. I’m not hurt. I just, uh, need a moment.”

Teardrops wishing to be spilled cling to the corners of her eyes, and she chokes back her sobs. He wonders if he should leave her to her misery. If she wanted to talk to him, she surely would, right? He looks back at his tent.

No. No, that is not what a partner would do.

Sitting beside her, he pats her back awkwardly and inwardly cringes at himself, “If you do not wish to speak about whatever is the matter, I will not pry, but I am here for you. You can talk to me.”

“I should have seen it. Fuck. I should have known. If I had read the situation better, I would have been able to stop you from putting yourself through this.” Her eyelashes flutter as she looks at the shadows writhing across the sky like a pit of snakes. “I’m so sorry you felt like you had to manipulate me. I would have protected you with my life even if you didn’t sleep with me. I hope you know that. I will always protect you, Astarion.”

She’s... Hells, she’s crying because of what he said? She blames herself for his flawed notions. He almost wants to admonish her for being a martyr. What he did and how he acted is entirely on him.

“Don’t be so stupid,” he spits a little too harshly, and she balks. Shit. He is terrible at this, isn’t he? Consoling someone does not come naturally to him. “Apologies. That was crass,” he sighs. “I’m terrible at this, aren’t I?”

She giggles at him, and a smile slinks across his lips, “You could use more practice in this particular social skillset. That smart mouth of yours is a little too sharp sometimes.”

“I am not accustomed to this,” he admits, raising his arm in an invitation to get close. She scoots over and leans against him, “It’s new territory for me. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Astarion. I understand,” she chimes in that sweetly forgiving inflection. “It’s already forgotten.”

“What I did was not a reflection on your character.” He gently guides her gaze so it meets his, and he speaks only truths, “You’re incredible, and you’ve seen nothing but incredible since I dragged you to the ground with a dagger to your lovely neck.”

“You never have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?” She grips his shirt in her fist, tugging on it slightly. Behind the tears brimming in them, her eyes glow with that determination he’s used to seeing. “Never, Astarion.”

He’s astonished, and his mouth drops open. When was the last time someone never required him to do something he was uncomfortable with? He nods his understanding, and she relaxes into his arms.

“Do you want to...” he swallows hard, “do you want to rest with me tonight?”

“Oh,” she jerks slightly, and her eyes shift. “That’s not needed. Honestly, I’m fine.”

“It is what couples do, is it not?” He asks because he honestly wants to know.

“What does it matter what other couples do?” she arches a brow at him with a devious grin. “We are us, and we can do as we please.”

Us. He does like the sound of that.

“Well,” he pauses, his tongue pressed hard against the top of his mouth as if trying to taste the words, “Then it would please me immeasurably if you joined me in my tent tonight.”

“This is real,” she breathes while staring up at him with those eyes that make whatever is left of his soul mewl, “You and me, we are real, and this is what you want, right Astarion?”

“We are real,” he purrs. “I may need time to learn and adjust, but this is real, and I’ve never wanted anything so fervently in my life. Come, rest with me tonight, my love.”

“My love?” her voice trembles.

“That’s right.” It’s all he can say without truly saying it.

The sitting room fire burns brightly as you lay on the lounge with an open book on your lap, but you haven’t been able to concentrate on reading. Your mind and body are restless. Mr. Blackwell is due to return to the city soon, and Gale has already told you that word has spread about Aldous’s “mysterious” disappearance. You knew this was coming, of course. That damn bookshop was frequented by many, and the fact that it’s been closed was sure to cause a stir.

You’re still unsure of how to handle the situation. You could try to convince Mr. Blackwell that Aldous ran off, but he was already suspicious, which will hamper your silver tongue. In truth, that would likely only be putting off the inevitable. When Aldous doesn’t return and is never heard from again, the problem will arise anew. At best, it might allow you to get Astarion out of Waterdeep, but that left Gale in a precarious situation.

No. This needs to be dealt with, one way or another.

A sphere of fire revolves above your palm, a comfort to you in times of uncertainty. When you feel powerless, your mastery and control of fire is a solace you often indulge in. The sphere bursts like a firework at your mute request and becomes dozens of glowing orbs that revolve and twist above you in a spellbinding flourish.

“Well, that’s quite the spectacle,” Astarion muses, “Although you only do things like this when you’re troubled. What’s going on in that head of yours? Should I be prepared for you to bolt again?”

He knows me too well.

“I won’t bolt again,” you scoff at him, pretending to be irritated. You may be broken, but your skin is still thicker than to be bothered by his flippant taunts.

He chuckles at the feigned sourness in your voice, “Tell me what’s troubling you.”

At your command, the orbs reshape into birds made of fire that frolic around Astarion, twirling, swooping and diving whimsically. They glint in the red of his eyes, casting attractive shadows that complement the angular planes of his face. Astarion smiles, watching the captivating pageant cavorting around him before you quell it completely.

Truth. I must stop trying to hide things from him.

“Gale said Mr. Blackwell will be back soon,” you sigh, rubbing your face, “and I still don’t have a good plan. He likely knows about his son’s disappearance, and we both know where he will come looking first.”

Astarion sits, and you stretch your legs across his lap, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We will workshop the details as we go. We always have.” He cocks his head, “You have never cared for a plan much before. Showing up and causing chaos has always been more our style.”

“You know I’m fine with chaos,” you admit. “But Gale is not, and this is his home. He is well-known and respected here. I won’t tarnish his reputation. I can’t do that to him.”

Astarion nods and smirks at you playfully, “I’m guessing that means good old-fashioned murder is off the table?”

With a small laugh, you give Astarion’s shoulder a gentle shove. “No more murder, Rogue.”

“Sorceress,” he pouts, clicking his tongue at you. “You used to be much more fun.”

“When we leave Waterdeep, you may murder until your heart’s content.” A truth. You may try to spare life when you can, but you do not require Astarion to. You fell for him as he is, as he has always been, and your love is not conditional.

“I await the day we leave then,” he chuckles, “Will you come out with me tonight? I would like to take you on a date.”

You giggle, “More courting?”

“Wooing. Courting. Romancing. Pleasuring,” he smirks slyly, “There is a ball being held tonight in the glory of some deity or another.”

“The balls held here are generally for the high society and nobles.”

“Indeed. They are,” he retorts, “which means we must look the part.”

“Looking the part is only half the battle,” you muse, “The other half is convincing them to give you entry.”

“Darling, I’m almost offended.” Astarion tuts, clicking his tongue with a frown, “Do you truly forget who you’re talking to? I can get us in one way or another. I am sure of it.”

Your lips twitch up in a devious smirk, “Are we going to cause some chaos?”

“A man can dream,” He smiles brightly. “You will come, yes?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of missing the chance to see you in action,” you purr. One of your favourite things has always been observing him doing what he excels at, and he adores the attention. “Do you have something to wear, or do you need me to go out and pick up something?”

“No need. I acquired something,” he winks with a wily grin. “Do you?”

“Acquired, huh? You went thieving without me, naughty boy.” You pull yourself up using his shoulder and glower at him playfully, tapping the tip of his nose softly, “You’re lucky I have something that will do nicely.”

Astarion giggles, taking your hand and using your finger to tap your nose back, “I am happy to take you thieving any night.”

“Promises. Promises. A future date, perhaps?"

“Dates where we go commit crimes?” He chuckles, kissing your forehead, “You’re far too perfect, my love. We leave at nightfall.”

Preparing in your old room, you slip into the lavish dress you thought would never wreathe your body. It was an impulsive and frivolous purchase that cost you more than any magical item, quarterstaff or robe you’ve ever bought and many times more useless.

The ivory silk sheaths your body, hugging your curves in all the right places with an off-the-shoulder neckline. Golden flames with a meticulous amount of detail are elegantly embroidered up the sides of the bodice until the flames lick across, meet in the middle and wrap around your breasts, accentuating them. Lace and silk flow over your hips and trumpet out slightly, licking the ground.

You wear a golden chocker that gives the appearance of gleaming wings wrapped around your neck and pin the delicate gold chains of the matching headpiece in the elaborate twists and curls, keeping half your hair up, leaving some to waterfall down your back in waves. Staining your lips a deep red hue, you line your eyes with black and shimmering gold and then slip into your heels.

Gods, how long has it been since I wore anything other than flat boots or sandals?

Descending the stairs, your eyes snap to Astarion. He’s chatting with Gale, wearing an exemplary raven ensemble lined in a rich, dark violet and piped in gold. How in the Hells he managed to steal something that fits him as if tailored to his body is beyond you.

Astarion turns, and his expression of utter disinterest dissolves. He bows low before offering his hand. “You look,” Astarion stutters, clearing his throat, “positively ravishing.”

“Yes.” Gale stammers, jaw slack. He recovers his poise quickly, “You look lovely, my friend.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about the surprise I see in both of your faces, but thank you,” you laugh and give them a sarcastic curtsy and take Astarion’s offered arm. “Shall we go?”

“You two have fun.” Gale smiles, his hands laced behind his back, “Please try to stay out of trouble.”

Astarion clicks his tongue with a huff, “Gods, you could not be duller if you tried, wizard.”

Arm entwined with Astarion’s, you approach the grand manor. Nobles in their regal garb flit about in a cacophony of voices as you approach the door. Several City Guards stand at the entrance of the multistory residence. You look anxiously at Astarion, and he taps your hand comfortingly.

“Name and invitation,” the guard’s husky voice drones with boredom.

Astarion answers in the choreographed intonation of manipulation you know so well, “Lord and Lady Ancunin,” he drawls confidently while handing over an invitation.

Lady Ancunin.

Your heart leaps, doing cartwheels in your chest, and Astarion’s eyes flick to yours. His lips twitch as he supresses a chuckle, and a wine-hued flush spreads across your cheeks.

The guard’s eyes flit over the invite, but his partner shakes his head while looking at some other list his fingers are clutched around, “I’m sorry, Lord Ancunin. You are not on the list.”

Astarion doesn’t flounder, “I’m positive you’re mistaken,” he accentuates commandingly, “Please check again.”

The guard looks to his comrade, who quickly flicks through sheet after sheet of paper. Your heart rate spikes, and your magic reels unprompted, palms heating.

Finally, the guards bow low, “Our sincerest apologies, Lord and Lady Ancunin. We mean no disrespect. It seems you were a late addition. Please enjoy the event.”

You enter the large foyer, its white tiles polished to a mirror-like sheen. Grand stone columns, carved with vines and flowers intricately wrapped around them, stretch to the high ceiling. The sheer size dwarfs you and makes Gale’s manor look small. A substantive fountain sculpted into the facsimile of Lliira, the joy bringer, is situated under an enormous crystal chandelier that casts rainbows athwart the room.

Who the Hells needs a fountain inside their home?

“This fountain is horrific,” you whisper to Astarion while frowning.

“Isn’t it?” He smirks, “I told you I would get us in.”

“I never had any doubt, love. Who did you steal the invitation from?”

“Who knows?” Astarion shrugs, “I did not request their name while I pilfered their pockets.”

“And getting our name on the list?”

“Our name, hm? I do rather like the sound of that, you know,” he purrs, with a dreamy and contemplative guise that makes you wonder what’s going through his head. “That was substantially more of a challenge. Perhaps I broke in last night and penned our name myself, perhaps I paid someone off, or perhaps the guards just found me too intimidating. Trade secrets I’m not about to divulge.”

You giggle. He’d planned this, and for someone who is not a planner, that fact plucks your heartstrings, “I will get those secrets out of you.”

“I wish you the best of luck with that,” he tuts, tapping your lower lip. “Your silver tongue is impressive, my dear, but it does not work on me. I know all your little tricks.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you flash him with an impish smirk. “My silver tongue seemed to work wonders on you last night.”

“Good Gods, did it ever,” he drawls with a wolfish grin. “Don’t remind me of that here, naughty girl.”

“What’s wrong, Astarion?” You taunt, letting your fingers climb his chest. “Having trouble containing your, shall we say, enthusiasm?”

“With you?” Astarion kisses your palm. “Bloody always.”

You laugh as he drags you into the rabble of the ballroom. Illusion magic is clearly at play, the ceiling obscured by whirling lights of blues, whites and yellows, frolicking between clouds. Beautiful music fills the air, hidden under the chitchat of the other patrons. A long table of assorted drinks and treats splits the ballroom, filling the air with a sweet, zesty scent.

Astarion flits about the patrons, skillfully avoiding questions that might unearth your true identities. You’re nearly as skilled a liar as he, and untruths roll smoothly off your tongue, but whenever you falter, Astarion is there to throw you a lifeline and give you an escape.

Astarion escorts you onto the dancefloor and draws you into a dancer’s embrace as the music slows. With his cheek against yours, he whispers, “Nobility is as insufferable as ever.”

“Yes, this must be nigh on one of the utmost pretentious events I have had the pleasure of crashing.” Astarion glides you across the dancefloor, your feet following his expert lead. “Yet, you fit in with them effortlessly.”

“It takes considerable effort, darling,” he lifts his arm, and you pirouette at his side. He crosses your arms about your waist so your back is against his chest, and you sway slowly, side to side, “If I had it my way, I would be picking the pockets of every sod in here.”

“Well,” you say as he spins you again, and your arms wrap around his shoulders while he dips you low with confident steps, his hand at the small of your back, “Why aren’t you? Pandemonium was always our way, was it not?”

“As much as I would adore robbing these fools blind, you and me, in this moment, feels magical, does it not?” His fingers curl into your back as he gazes into your eyes with affection so sincere and deep it swallows you whole, and he brings you upright slowly, “I’m right where I want to be."

Be with me. Hells, be with me forever.

Before you can answer and tell him you want to be his again, an unpleasant shove on your shoulder nearly sends you tripping over your feet if it were not for Astarion’s tight hold on you.

A svelte woman with her hands on her hips dressed in a silvery shimmering dress smirks at you with a haughty glower, peering down at you over an upturned nose. She looks at Astarion, and her expression softens as her eyes slither over him.

Here we go. Again.

People have been eyeing him all night, vying for his attention. It was only a matter of time before some brazen imbecile attempted to do away with you.

“Oh my! I should watch where I am going,” she croons with a hand in front of her mouth, a facade of innocence if you’ve ever seen one. “My apologies, Lord….”

“Ancunin,” Astarion concludes, not even looking at her, “It’s quite alright.”

The woman bats her eyes, “Lord Ancunin,” she muses through pouty lips, “May I apologize by offering you a dance?”

Of fucking course.

“That is not necessary,” he almost growls but keeps his intonation courteous.

“Come, Lord Ancunin.” The woman babbles in an unpleasant nasally intonation. “It’s the least I could do.”

Your palms blister, and you can’t help the scowl that deepens the shadows dimming your face. You step in front of Astarion and retort with a voice layered in piercing frost, “I believe my husband said no.”

The woman jumps when you come into her line of sight as if she had not seen you there, and you resist the urge to reach out and slap sense into her.

“Oh,” she gapes while you flay her with your eyes, “I meant no offence.”

“None taken. Enjoy the night.” Astarion bows stiffly before dragging you to an uncrowded stretch of the room. He chuckles, “Cool that twitchy palm of yours, my love.”

You scoff and turn your nose up, crossing your arms, “I will reduce her to ash if she touches you.”

“Possessive, are you?” He giggles with an avid glare, “You need not worry. I am yours and yours alone, wife. ”

Wife. Hells, I called him my husband, didn’t I?

“Call it possession if you like. You said no, and like most wealthy idiots, she heard “try harder,” and I will not stand for it,” you seethe, watching the woman behind his back, still staring at him hungrily.

“There’s a veritable ocean of flame in your eyes,” he chimes with an arched brow. “Is she still watching?”

“Yes,” you condemn bitterly. “She is about to be charred,” you vow, caught in the riptide of your envy.

He pulls you into a passionate kiss full of love and intimacy. Slipping his tongue past your lips, his hands cradle your face, and he pushes his body into your curves. You glance over his shoulder and watch the woman frown, turning away with slumped shoulders, making you smile against him.

“Well,” he soothes under his breath, fingers inching up and down your arm, “Did it work?”

“Yes,” you brim with glee. “She stopped staring, but now everyone else is.”

“Let them stare,” he waves dismissively, not a whit ruffled by the attention. “I could use a drink. Would you like one?”

“Yes, please. You pick.”

Astarion nods, kisses your temple and disappears into the rabble. Closing your eyes, you lean against the wall. Were it not for that woman, you would have asked Astarion to be yours. Perhaps it isn’t necessary. Astarion has never cared about titles, but it matters to you.

Fear stirs like poison seeping from your bones, and there’s still doubt, but it no longer holds you hostage. Broken or not, you’re ready to step away from the gallows of your heartache.

“You!” A gruff voice, cold with fury, breaks you from your ruminations, “What have you done to my son?!”

Your eyes snap open and land on Mr. Blackwell, flushed red with woebegone rage.

Shit.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I've loved writing since I was a child but have never been confident enough to post anything for others to read. The encouragement I've received has been positively incredible, and it's been helping me through some hard times in my life - sincerely thank you so much! :)

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

- Astarion's POV seems to be well received, so expect us to switch between his POV and Tav's, which means we will learn more about what he was up to when he left from his perspective. I am excited to write this in upcoming chapters! - Mr. Blackwell is back. Uh oh. - I am once again thinking of giving Tav a name and changing the tags around but grappling with it since I never meant to. It's just feeling a little odd for them to be having heartfelt conversations, and Astarion never actually uses a name besides pet names. Let me know what you are thinking. I understand it would be rather jarring at this point in the story.

#astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #shadows of the past

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 3 months

Text

The Art of Healing: Chapter 7

pairing: wanda maximoff x agatha harkness

summary: our two favorite witches confront an enemy and wanda discovers true control over her powers

content warnings: smut, cunnilingus, knife, blood, murder

word count: 2.4 k+

Series Masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Complete Control

Brunette curls framed Agatha’s face, her brows furrowed as a pair of glasses rested lightly on her nose. She was seated in her office, seemingly unaware of the young redhead who lingered near the doorframe. Green eyes took in her stance, the straight back and elegantly crossed leg taking most of her attention, but the glasses were what really made her pause.

Wanda was seconds away from stripping naked and crawling toward the dominant aura that encompassed Agatha when blue eyes flickered over to her.

“Well don’t just stand there,” Agatha drawled, a single eyebrow raising. The corner of her lips turned up slightly when Wanda blushed and stepped fully inside the office.

“I was just…” Wanda stopped herself, knowing that she didn’t have an excuse. “You look really good with glasses.” She offered instead, a warm feeling filling her up when Agatha’s smile widened.

“Thank you, sweet cheeks.” The pet name made Wanda blush even further, the tips of her ears burning.

Clearing her throat, Wanda finally noticed the open laptop that Agatha had been so intently staring at. In an attempt to divert the intense focus of the brunette, she gestured towards it, asking, “What have you been doing all morning?”

A weary sigh escapes Agatha, the sound almost too soft to hear. Anyone less perceptive than Wanda would have missed it. Her fingers twitch, almost as if to close the laptop, before she removes her glasses and rubs the bridge of her nose.

Wanda immediately misses the look of those glasses framing Agatha’s face and watches her set them down gently. Beckoning the redhead closer, she swivels the laptop around and begins explaining.

“I like to keep an eye on witch hunters,” Agatha says, Wanda taking in the information from the page she was seeing. “This one,” She points to a picture of a man with long, stringy hair, “He’s gotten close to figuring out who you are.”

Green eyes widen in surprise before terror fills them.

“Don’t worry, hun,” Agatha watches Wanda manually slow her breathing, the red wisps around her fingertips threatening to escape her control. “I’m going to get rid of him for you.”

“How?” Wanda hates the raspiness in her voice, her accent wrapping around the word as she locks her eyes on Agatha. There’s a desperate look in them, panic threatening to overtake her.

“I’m going to kill him,” Agatha states, watching Wanda carefully for a reaction. “It’s the only way to stop these fanatic types, they won’t stop until they’ve either revealed us to the world or killed us.”

Wanda’s head moves, nodding slowly. Her eyes have a distant look in them, and with a single curl of her fingers, the red magic surrounding them disappears.

“Good.”

A surprised look makes its way onto Agatha’s face. She hadn’t expected Wanda to agree with her methodologies, but considering the HYDRA base that was now a fine dust of concrete somewhere in the forests of Sakovia, she should’ve expected it.

“I want to come with,” Wanda looks up, her green eyes blazing, a scarlet hue around them. “I want to help you kill him.”

Agatha doesn’t say anything, simply staring at the redhead seated across from her. She looks her up and down, assessing her.

“I’ll do anything.” Wanda’s tone is firm.

Well, Agatha can’t say no to that. She doesn’t speak, simply gesturing with her hand. Wanda follows the unspoken instruction, moving from the chair silently and kneeling in front of the brunette.

Sliding her pants off, Agatha watches Wanda’s pupils dilate at the sight of her nude pussy. Spreading her legs, she gently threads her fingers through silky red hair and pulls Wanda to her.

A strong tongue swipes through her folds, massaging Agatha’s clit. A loud moan erupts from her and Wanda smiles as she looks up. Her tongue moves quickly, incessant against her as Agatha rolls her hips against the redhead’s face.

The chair crashes against the wall, Agatha’s legs wrapping around Wanda’s shoulders as her heels dig into the redhead’s shoulder blades. Pulling her closer by her hair, fingers wrapping around soft strands, Agatha ruts her hips against her incessant tongue.

Wanda smiles and moans against her, the vibrations causing the brunette’s hips to snap roughly against her. The only thing she can smell and taste is Agatha, her hands gripping the woman’s thighs as she breathes slowly through her nose while she wraps her lips fully around Agatha’s clit and sucks.

When Agatha cums, it's like a rising tide that crashes into the shore over and over again. Her muscles contract, her hips jerking wildly against Wanda’s tongue as she practically convulses against her. The fingers in Wanda’s hair tighten, pulling painfully at the strands as she loses control over her limbs.

The chair gently bangs against the wall, hitting it with each jerk of Agatha's hips. Eventually, she pulls Wanda’s head away from her over-sensitive pussy, her fingers trembling slightly as she runs them through strands of red hair.

Cupping Wanda’s face, Agatha lets a slow smile spread across her face. Using one of her thumbs, she wipes away some of the arousal coating Wanda’s chin before slipping it past the redhead's sticky lips and enjoying the strong tongue that wraps around it.

“You know,” Agatha leans back, teasing her hair slightly and enjoying the hungry look that appears in Wanda’s eyes at the action. “I was always going to let you come with me, but seeing how desperate you were really turned me on, sweetness.”

Wanda fights the urge to roll her eyes, choosing to send her mentor an exasperated look instead. Then, she glances meaningfully at Agatha’s parted legs and licks her lips slowly, savoring the taste of her. Dark blue eyes watch her, arousal swelling as Wanda speaks, “Well, since I’m already on my knees…”

She doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence before Agatha’s strong hands are back in her hair and pulling her towards her still-dripping pussy.

—

The moon shines brightly, a faint dusting of clouds reflecting its light as Agatha silently walks towards a warmly lit cabin. Wanda follows behind, her shoes gently hitting the ground with each step, the scarlet magic beneath her skin itching to be released.

Looking back, blue eyes meet green as Agatha tilts her head. Wanda nods silently, pushing the plan for the night to the front of her thoughts, knowing that her mentor is reading her mind. Blue eyes flash in approval before Agatha’s attention is drawn back towards the cabin.

They can see the witch hunter inside, his head bent as he frantically writes something down. Even from outside the cabin, Wanda can tell that his hands are shaking and his hair hasn’t been washed in a few days. Judging by the state of his clothes, he hasn’t washed much of anything in a while.

Agatha steps up towards the door, fingers twisting as a purple wisp wraps around it. Looking back, she saw that Wanda’s scarlet magic was curling around her fingertips, a hungry look in the redhead’s eyes.

The door clicked, the latch unlocking. Agatha swung the door open, a surprised squeak escaping the man, his hands freezing from where he had been madly scribbling in a notebook. Frenzied eyes darted between the two women, widening when he saw the magic twisting around their fingers.

“W- Wi- Witches…” His voice cracked pathetically, and Wanda couldn’t stop the smirk that spread slowly across her face.

Advancing slowly, Agatha stalked towards the man. His stringy hair partially covered his face, but Wanda could see his beady eyes fillingl with fear. He looked like a scared animal, and Wanda mused that if he was the prey in this situation, Agatha was most definitely the predator.

Pens clattered to the floor, the man backing up and gripping the table for support. Agatha’s piercing blue eyes didn’t stray, her gaze locked on his trembling form. Wanda silently closed the door, sealing the windows and doors with her magic as she watched.

Before the man could react, purple tendrils crept towards him, wrapping around his limbs in a way similar to vines as Agatha chuckled lowly at the strangled choking noise that escaped him.

Tearing her gaze from the now-kneeling man wrapped tightly in purple tendrils, Wanda finally took in the cabin. Most notably, the pages upon pages of writing and photographs covering the walls.

She vaguely remembered watching an American crime show with Pietro, and them both laughing at the red string the cops had put in between pictures of different criminals. The walls looked eerily similar to that show, minus the red string, although it wouldn’t have looked out of place. Instead, lines of bold black connected different reports and security camera pictures.

Scanning the writings briefly, Wanda felt her stomach turn as she began to understand his so-called ‘research’. One wall was completely dedicated to the best way to kill a witch. Different pages described in detail the most efficient methods, some of which caused an involuntary flinch to make its way through Wanda.

Reluctantly turning her gaze toward another wall, Wanda stiffened at the sight of her picture in the center. It looked like her passport photo, and she wondered how he had managed to procure that specific picture before her gaze wandered to the other photographs and news articles around it.

Wanda’s heart dropped, a ringing sound making its way into her ears as she scanned the multiple articles speculating about the HYDRA facility that had crumbled to dust. Whenever magic was mentioned, the man circled it in red marker and drew an arrow towards her. There was a grainy photo of her and Pietro entering the facility, probably from a security camera, and Wanda’s heart clenched painfully.

‘That’s her, the witch. The one from that building. The one that crumbled to dust. Shit. I have to run. Can I run? Is this actually magic keeping me immobilized? If I could just reach my knife…’

Wanda tore her gaze from the wall, catching a glimpse of metal. Turning fully towards the desk, she stalked forward, an eerie scarlet glow in her eyes.

Agatha remained silent, watching as Wanda picked up an intricate dagger, buried beneath some papers. The man whimpered at the sight, his shoulders sagging as panicked eyes stared at her.

‘Fuck. She’s going to kill me. My work isn’t done yet, I can't die yet. Not when there are so many other witches to hunt.’

“What do you mean,” Wanda asked, her voice deadly and low. The man paled but didn’t speak. Wanda didn’t need him to, choosing to instead read his mind as thoughts of him ritualistically killing different women flashed through his mind.

A few of them weren’t women, they were girls.

The image of a child flashed through his mind, her eyes glassy and wide as blood pooled beneath her, and Wanda wrenched her magic out of his mind. Scarlet tendrils whipped around her and Agatha lazily formed a protective shield around herself as she watched green eyes lock onto the man.

‘How old was she?” Wanda asked, her accent making its way into her words. The man paled further, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to formulate an answer.

“Eight.”

Scarlet tendrils knocked over a candle, the small flame eagerly licking at the dry paper covering the walls of the cabin. Agatha raised an eyebrow, glancing at Wanda. The redhead walked closer to the kneeling man, knife glinting dangerously in her hand.

“She deserved it,” The man suddenly snarled, his eyes wild. “They all did. Witches deserve to burn in hell.”

He was panting, his eyes darting nervously around the room as the flames crept quickly up the walls. Smoke was beginning to fill the cabin, both Wanda and Agatha using their magic to breathe.

A spike of anger shot through Wanda, her vision blurring as her hands moved. Her body seemed almost detached from her brain, her eyes simply watching as she slammed the blade into the man’s chest. She brought her mouth close to his ear, whispering the last words he’d ever hear.

“And now you will too.”

Wanda twisted the knife, a choked cry escaping the man as warm blood poured over her hands. Her mind became sharper, and suddenly she was back inside her own body, a fizzy feeling worming its way through her.

Feeling her emotions fade, compartmentalizing themselves neatly in her mind, Wanda let the fizzy feeling take over, filling her limbs with warmth. She felt present, completely in the moment as her sharp eyes watched a trickle of blood escape from the corner of the man’s spasming mouth.

She’d never felt so aware, so focused. It was intoxicating, and Wanda immediately wanted the fizzy feeling to stay.

The man’s eyes grew glassy, his chest no longer moving and his form slumped over the knife as blood continued to pour onto Wanda’s hands and wrists. She pulled the knife free, breathing heavily, and the fizzy feeling grew sharper.

The feeling twisted deep within her, turning into something sharp and filled with jagged edges. It threatened to overtake her, seeping into her mind as green eyes watched the blood from the dagger drip onto the form of the dead witch hunter. Wanda smiled, and Agatha grabbed her arm.

“We have to go now, hon.” Her voice was low, only a slight note of urgency to it. “The cabin is about to collapse on us, and I’d rather be long gone by the time the authorities show up.”

Wanda turned to face her, a small smile still cemented on her face. Agatha smirked at her, forming a purple archway directly back to her basement. Lifting her hand, Wanda let a wisp of scarlet magic play across her knuckles, Agatha observing silently as she pulled the redhead through the portal.

The smile on Wanda’s face grew wider, the blood-soaked blade dropping onto the cold concrete of Agatha’s basement as the doorway closed behind them. Her magic floated lazily around the room, casting a soft scarlet glow on the two women.

“See?” Wanda’s smile grew wider, her eyes sparkling. “I’m in full control now.”

The fizzy feeling grew stronger, twisting in her chest and threatening to turn into something sharp and dangerous. The jagged pieces of the hole in her heart started to soften, the chasm of her grief narrowing slightly as green eyes met blue.

As their gazes locked, Wanda sensed the dawn of a new beginning, a flicker of warmth amidst the cold shadows of her past. It buried itself deep within her, nestling comfortably alongside the jagged chasm and swirling scarlet magic at her core.

Next Chapter

#charsgaythoughts #wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #wanda #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda fanfic #marvel #mcu #wanda marvel #lesbian #writing #wlw #wlw smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x agatha harkness #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut

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syddsatyrn · 3 months

Text

Je t'aime Violet

By Sydd Satyrn

Chapter 1 ⛧ Chaper 2 ⛧ Chapter 3 ⛧

⛧Pairing: - Alastor x OC!Reader Violet

⛧Warnings: Drinking, smoking, swearing, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, adult themes, smut, P in V, sexual themes 18+ not for minors

⛧Words: 1.8k

⛧Fic playlist: Click here!

⛧Summary: Hello ladies, gentleman and nonbinary friends! I present to you, my series Je t'aime Violet. This story is staring my OC, Violet! She is a deer demon containing a lot of personality. With a gifted voice and a bit of jazz, she's got style and class on lock. After 7 years, Violet and Alastor's feelings towards each other never dissolved. Violet reconnects with the man who left with her heart, will she forgive him? Does Alastor have the ability to set his pride aside for love?

⛧Notes: @hellfiremunsonn is my lovely beta reader.

⛧Chapter 3: Under My Skin

Stirring in your sleep slightly you feel warmth radiating from behind you. A pair of arms holds you close and you fight your heavy eyelids. Your eyes slowly open and you roll over slowly to see a sleeping Alastor curled up behind you. Your face turns several shades of red, why are you so shocked? It's not like you two haven't slept in the same bed before.

Alastor’s usual composed demeanor was softened in slumber, his features relaxed in the gentle morning light filtering through the curtains. You couldn't help but reach out and brush a stray strand of hair from his face, marveling at the contrast between the ruthless demon he presented to the world and the man who lay beside you now. The memories come flooding back in from the previous night and the conversation you both had. Alastor stirred awake with a soft murmur, his sleepy scarlet eyes meeting yours. “Don’t go…” He says, barely above a whisper. You smile and wrap your arms around him, he presses his forehead to yours. “I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper softly and he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Alastor's eyes held a mixture of relief and longing as he gazed at you, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on your back. Your ears sit flat, you almost fall back asleep, his heartbeat and body heat lulling you back to slumber. Suddenly a loud knock accompanied by an even louder voice. “Alastor! Open up! It's me!” Mimzy says interrupting your peaceful sanctuary.

Alastor roused from his slumber at the sound of Mimzy's voice, his expression shifting from contentment to annoyance. Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from you and grabbed his long red robe, wrapping it around himself and tying it in the middle. He’s muttering under his breath about unwanted interruptions. You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his grumbling.

As Alastor opened the door, Mimzy barged in with her usual exuberance. Her eyes widening in surprise as she caught sight of you still in his bed, barely awake. "Well, well, well! Look who decided to drop by," she said with a mischievous grin. Alastor shot her a warning glare before turning his attention back to you.

"Can't a demon have a peaceful morning without you barging in, Mimzy?" Alastor quipped, though there was no real malice in his tone. Mimzy simply laughed and flopped down on the couch, making herself at home. “Violet, Its good to see you, doll! I heard you had a show tonight at the Brimstone lounge?” She asks and your eyes get wide, you sit up fully and recall the conversation you had with the owner last week. “Oh dear, It slipped my mind completely. But I will be there! Thank goodness you said something.” You reply, and hold out your hand to Alastor. “Would you care to join me as my guest tonight?” Violet asks,

a mischievous glint in your eye. Alastor's lips curled into a genuine smile as he took your hand, his touch sending a comforting warmth through you. "I would be delighted to accompany you, mon cheri." he replied graciously and gently pressed his lips to your hand. Mimzy clapped her hands in excitement, already planning the evening ahead. You’ve known Mimzy for a long time. Both of you work for the jazz, burlesque, and cabaret clubs in the city. A long while back Alastor had introduced you two and you both hit it off immediately. “I came here to invite Alastor out, but it looks like ya beat me to it, toots.” Mimzy says with a laugh. “It's good to see you two together again.” You smiled at her when you realized she was trying to set you two up. You finally get out of bed and give her a hug. “Well, I won't keep you, I’m sure you two are very busy.” Mimzy teases once again. “I’ll see you two love birds tonight!”

As Mimzy left, you turned back to Alastor with a sheepish smile. "She certainly knows how to stir things up, doesn't she?" Alastor chuckled softly, his eyes full of warmth as he gazed at you. "Indeed she does, but I must admit I am grateful for her interruption. It gave me an excuse to spend more time in your company." He says, taking a few steps closer to you. He tugs on your sweater, pulling you closer. “You of all people don’t need an excuse.” You reply with a playful tone as Alastor leans in and kisses you. Your arms wrap around his neck and you stand on your tip-toes. You smile against his lips and giggle at the radio demon's sudden display of affection.

The day passed in a blur of preparations for your show at the lounge. Alastor proved to be extremely helpful, assisting you with everything from selecting the perfect outfit to helping you with your setlist. Alastor wore a suit and you wore one of your best cocktail dresses. With your arm around him you both enter the dimly lit lounge, the place was thick with cigarette smoke and the smooth melodies of a jazz band. Soft amber lights cast shadows that danced across the walls. There were busy waiters, many conversations and glasses clinking. It is a rather busy night, which makes you a little nervous. Alastor guided you to a reserved table near the stage, his hand warm against the small of your back. As you settled into your seats, the anticipation of the night ahead began to build within you. Alastor's presence beside you was a grounding force, his scarlet eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The jazz band started playing again, filling the room with alluring melodies that set the perfect ambiance for your performance. One of the staff members approaches you and asks you to come backstage to set up. They have a couple questions about your prop. You squeeze Alastor’s hand. He gives you an encouraging smile and a nod. The staff members were bustling around, making final preparations for the rest of the evening's performances. “This is enough water, right?” The gentleman asks, he gestures to the giant martini glass. You inspect it, and it looks good from what you can see. “Yes, this seems about right.” You answer, a couple of staff members push a rolling set of stairs behind it, they lock the wheels in place and take off to the next task. You head to your dressing room to get changed. Just as you finish putting on the final touches, there is a knock at the door. “You’re on in five, Miss Violet.” Says the voice on the other side. “Thank you!” The band was playing a soulful tune, setting the stage for your grand entrance. As you stepped out onto the stage, the spotlight illuminated you in a soft glow, casting a enchanting aura around you. The music swelled and the purple velvet curtains open. You wave at the crowd as everyone hollers, cheers and claps. You walk up to the microphone and take a deep breath. “I've got you under my skinI've got you, deep in the heart of meSo deep in my heart that you're really a part of meI've got you under my skin”

Your voice filled the room, some people whistled and other sat quietly. You remove the silk robe and toss it somewhere on stage, revealing your outfit. “I'd tried so, not to give inI said to myself this affair never will go so wellBut why should I try to resist when baby I know so wellI've got you under my skin” You slowly shed your left glove, one finger at a time, then the right, they fall to the floor. Your eyes lock onto Alastor’s, a visible red tint spreads across his face. He forgot that over the years you’ve perfected your shows, now you are more enticing as ever. “Don't you know, little foolYou never can winUse your mentalityWake up to realityBut each time that I do just the thought of youMakes me stop before I begin'Cause I've got you under my skin”You make your way to the set of stairs behind your giant martini glass and take a seat when you reach the top. The band continues to play as you slowly slide into the glass. Its a little cold but you get used to it quickly. As you recline in the giant martini glass, you pose your legs in different appealing positions. You splash the water around and you position you elbows on the edge of the glass to support yourself. A Stage hand walks over and grabs the mic and proceeds to hand it to you.

“Oh my love, I've got you under my skinI've got you, deep in the heart of meSo deep in my heart that you're really a part of meI've got you under my skin”

As the final chords of the song echo through the lounge, a wave of applause erupts from the audience. There is a radiant smile on your face as you wave to the crowd. You give Alastor a playful wink and the curtain closes. He had forgotten just how much he adored your voice, and your body was as alluring as ever. He feels like an utter fool, letting you go was clearly one of his biggest mistakes.

You went to the back to change into the dry clothes you came in with, you felt like you did really well, despite having Alastor’s eyes on you all night. Some of the staff waved as you left, this club has always been a pleasant place to work. When you exit the stage, Alastor is waiting there, his hand extended. His gaze never leaves you as he leads you back to the table. "You were absolutely stunning, my dear," he praised, leaning in to place a tender kiss on your cheek. You take a seat and he does the same. He wraps his arm around your waist as he sees others staring, some look rather angry. Alastor paid them no mind, really. One of his past times is irritating others and reveling in their jealousy. A sinister smirk on his face as you sit and chat with Mimzy for a moment. After a couple of drinks, Alastor starts to get a little handsy. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and scratches behind your fluffy ears. He plays with your hair and whispers compliments in your ear for the next hour. You both watched the remaining performers along with the Jazz band finish out the night. As the lounge began to empty out and the lights dimmed low, Alastor offered you his arm once again. “Shall we return to the hotel?” ——————————— Somewhere along the way home he said all the right things and made all the right moves because you were both making out in the hallway. He clumsily leads you back to his room while his tongue traced your bottom lip and entered your mouth.

As you stumble into his room, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in desire. The air is charged with anticipation as he pulls you closer, his touch sending shivers down your spine. The room is dimly lit, casting shadows that dance across his face, making him look hungry and dangerous. Your heart races as his hands explore every inch of your body, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you both. In that moment, nothing else matters but the raw connection you share with him. Alastor’s hands find the zipper on your dress, the straps fall down the shoulders and you let the garment fall to your hips.

His fingers trace your neck and shoulders, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He plants tender kisses along your jaw and collarbone. Every part of you tingles in anticipation. Alastor's hands roam over your curves, exploring the curves he hadn't seen in years. His mouth traces a path down your chest and stomach, making its way to the black lace of your bra. Alastor removes it carefully,

his hands snake down to your hips before pulling off your dress completely, leaving you in just your matching black panties and stockings. He slowly leads you to his bed, you kick off your shoes and climb into bed, Alastor craws on top of you. Your heart races as he brushes his hardness against you, his hands move up to cup your face gently as he kisses you deeply yet again. You loosen his tie and begin to unbutton his shirt, reveling in the sight of his skin

you can't help but run your hands over. He sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening, his horns grow as he gazes at you hungrily.

Alastor's hands reach for the button on his pants, and with a deft touch, he unfastens it. He pushes his pants down, revealing his hardness underneath. Your eyes lock onto it, and a moment of hesitation passes between you both. “Alastor?” You say his name softly and he hums in response. “I want you so bad…Please…” You whine and he pulls off your panties slowly, admiring every curve and stroke along the way. “Patience my dear, I truly missed this, you’ll have to excuse my indulgence. His fingers brush against your clit and you gasp at the sensation, moaning loudly as he takes it into his mouth. He sucks on it gently, causing nearby candles to flare. His ears flick and his tail twitches once he tastes you. You feel his tongue dance around it teasingly before slowly sliding two fingers inside of you. You moan loudly followed by something that sounds like his name.

You grasp the sheets tightly, unable to contain yourself as his tongue laps up every drop. Each movement of his lips and fingers elicits more whimpers and gasps from you. Your thighs shake slightly, desperately wanting more of him.

You can feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance now, teasing it before slowly pushing inside of you. Alastor's deep red eyes lock onto yours, every inch of him claiming you as his own. You gasp as he starts moving in and out of you in a slow rhythm that mirrors his breathing. The bed creaks underneath you both as he thrusts deeper inside, hitting that perfect spot inside of you with each stroke that makes you cry. Your arms wrap around his neck as you let out another lewd moan. “I’ve missed this, Violet. You’ve always been a good pet. ”He says in you ear, Alastor's voice is like honey, deep and smooth as he speaks to you. He had a commanding presence, like a predator stalking its prey, and yet there was also a tenderness in his touch. His words were like sweet poison and you’re desperate for more.

As Alastor continues to pound into you, his hips slapping against yours. Every thrust sends a wave of pleasure through you, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you lose yourself in the sensation. You can feel your climax building, your walls clenching around his length as you beg him to go faster.

"Oh gods... Alastor!" You scream out, your voice shaking with passion as hot white-hot pleasure washes over you. He growls low in his throat, taking advantage of your desperation and driving even deeper into you with every stroke. Your body tightens around him again and again as waves of pleasure roll through you. Moments later, Alastor cums inside of you with a groan followed by another low growl. He fills you up, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he tries to ride out the rest of his high. “Fuck…” He says as he tries to catch his breath. He doesn’t swear very often so when he does, its rather funny. You lay in his arms panting, attempting to catch your breath. Alastor cups you cheek, stroking it with his thumb. "You're simply breathtaking, Violet," he whispered, his voice rough and full of static. Your fingers card through his hair and you both take a moment to recover in each other's arms. Alastor slowly pulls out of you and your breath hitched. Alastor reluctantly removes himself and your muscles relax against the mattress. You both clean yourselves up, he crawls into bed with you and pulls the covers over your body. Alastor curls up behind you and kisses the top of your head. "It's been a long time, Violet," Alastor says, tracing his fingers lightly down your cheek.

“Well…you know what they say” You reply just barely above a whisper. "The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again."

#hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor radio demon #alastor smut #demon alastor #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel series #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x oc

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honeykaes · 1 year

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—𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐢

✦ pairing: scaramouche x reader x dottore

✦ w/c: 2.6k

✦ warning: dark content, yandere content, 18+ content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: gender-neutral!reader, yandere content, god/goddesses au, based on hades and persephone myth, all characters in genshin are gods, dottore claimed reader since birth, implied stalking, side-character death, isolation, gaslighting, unedited, scara is referred to as wanderer and scaramouche.

[part i]

Heart thumping out of your chest, sweat dripping on your brow, you couldn’t believe what was happening to you. Dottore was the force that had left your life so miserable, taking away all the things you enjoyed beside gardening. The bloodlust Scaramouche argued with was no better, the image of the mauled dead man ingrained in your mind.

How had you caught the eye of these two Gods? It wasn’t as if you devoted yourself to them as others did—you hardly prayed if you were being honest. You swallowed, forcing yourself from heaving bile up due to your already weakened state. You crept back towards the cracked door. As awful as it was, you needed more information—you needed the truth.

Winds were beginning to pick up around the Wanderer as his hair began moving with the gale, his eyes glaring down at the God of Death. His clenched jaw softened, shifting his face to that of smug amusement. Wanderer crossed his arms, displaying his newfound confidence.

“Stop trying to act like (Y/n) ate over 12 seeds from your hellish fruit. They ate only 5 of them,” he declared. Dottore narrowed his own scarlet eyes, licks of azure fire beginning to appear on his cyan locks signaling his frustration. You leaned into the door closer trying to understand they’re conversation better compared to the muffle voices you heard earlier.

“You’re only bound to her for 5 months out of the year, lowlife. Stop acting as if they only belong to you,” Wanderer seeth, leaning into the man. Dottore forced himself to laugh, looking down at the other God. You felt tears pricking your eyes as you tried to wipe them as a sense of dread consumed your body. Your suspicions were right. The pomegranate Dottore insisted would be the force of your freedom had the exact opposite effect.

“So fucking what. You act as if I can’t give them another,” he hummed, irritating Wanderer. Frustrated by his statement, Wanderer clicked his tongue. You grabbed the soft fabric of your ornate black robe on your stomach tightly. Would it be possible to get them out still or would they be digested already…?

“You’re forgetting something. What will make them trust you once more? You already broke it,” Wanderer responded, a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his thin pink lips. Dottore’s tongue swipes over his predator-like teeth, before a cruel grin forms on his pale face.

“...What about you, little puppet? You’ll try to claim what is rightfully mine for 7 months. Hardly seems fair to me,” Dottore replied. You bite your lip tightly, a line of blood dripping down from your open wound. Puppet? How did that make sense? They clearly knew of each other much closer than any stories had assumed. All this time, just competing with one another? Your arms hug your shoulders tightly, shivering in disgust.

“It’s what I deserve! You didn’t see them in the village, alone and by themself. They had the strength to continue the torment you brought, their kindness not wavering once. Those orphans lived because they gave them their produce, they could have easily enjoyed themself. I feel for them and want to reward them after their misery” Wanderer seethed, stomping his foot. The winds around the wanderer were beginning to pick up once again.

Wanderer watched you for that long? You knew Gods and Goddess often came to the mortal realm using their powers to make them naked to the invisible eye, but you never thought Wanderer would do that towards you. Farming and winds didn’t mix well together after all, as cyclones would often uproot gardens.

“You sure it's them you truly love, or the fact they were blessed by your beloved savior, Nahida?” Dottore asked, sticking out his pierced tongue to get a reaction from his younger sibling. A wave of winds rushed past you for a second. It seemed as though it was a warning.

“Watch your mouth before I blow your form into pieces. Don’t act all high and mighty either. Why do you love them in the first place, huh? Are you just that lonely since Nahida banished you to this land with the rest of the lowlife deities?” Wanderer hissed. Dottore paused for a moment, simply looking at the infuriated God. His eyes wandered up, towards a stain-glass window.

“...I first saw them when the God of Pestilence and Commerce, Pantalone decided to infect whomever in his sights. I tagged along with him out of pure boredom, ruling the land of the dead can be often dreary, ya know,” Dottore muttered.

“He killed their parents, I collected their souls. They were so fucking loud that night since they couldn’t stop crying. Humans are such sensitive creatures…” Dottore trailed off. A single tear drifted down your face. At least there was some solace to know your captor didn’t kill your parents, as opposed to his deranged associate. The plague did ravish your village, but you didn’t have much memory of it being so young.

“Since Pantalone was active, and I had to collect the souls, I saw them often. ...They talked to the plants around her as if they were people. Even if it was rather odd, my life didn’t feel as lonely with them. I didn’t get everything I wanted from that poor excuse for a goddess like you did, after all. Signora even insisted they could be the rule the underworld with me. How romantic is that?” Dottore exclaimed.

Wanderer rolled his eyes, and turned his head, only to catch your intrusive gaze. Your eyes widened, turned your body away from the crack in your door. Cursing under your breath, you tried to calm your fast-paced heart. Was he going to try and collect you?

“Nahida thought the same. They could rule my realm with me,” Wanderer stated, still looking to where you were. Confused by his counterpart’s lack of attention, Dottore glanced towards the direction Wanderer was looking at, noticing the door to your room was cracked open. An amused smirk appeared on Dottore’s face.

“Are theyfinally awake—” before Dottore could move to retrieve you, his body was blown away quickly colliding with the brick wall. Resentful eyes looked at Wanderer as Dottore’s body fizzed into a cloud of black smoke. Before you could properly get away from the door, the black smoke appeared in front of you, clouding your vision. All of your senses were blocked, until suddenly, you were in front of a displeased Wanderer, with large arms wrapped around your waist from behind. The smell of ash ever-present behind you. Dottore nuzzled his head into your hair, earning a growl from Wanderer.

“Aw, look at the spoiled brat, lovely—“ Dottore cooed before his focus drifted to a floating white feather. Dottore snarled, burning the feather with one touch. Wanderer looked up to see a man with a large set of wings flying above the three of you. You stared in awe gazing at his large wings.

“If it isn’t Barbatos” the man greeted, before descending down. The winged man had dark hair with glowing turquoise ends tied up in two braids. His teal eyes gazed down at you filled with amusement.

“Sorry, did I interrupt a lovers’ quarrel?” he teased. As you opened your mouth in an attempt to escape, Wanderer placed a cold man on your lips, cautiously warning you from doing that.

“What is it,” Dottore asked in a monotone voice. You could feel the malice radiating from Dottore. The amusement and teasing nature in his voice was gone. He didn’t exactly like this...creature, did he? The winged-man just laughed at Dottore’s hostility. Wanderer’s hand left your face as he crossed his arms instead.

“We’re being summoned, right, Barbatos?” Wanderer muttered. The winged-man nodded his hand, holding up a scroll.

“I mean, this was going to happen eventually boys. The 7 Main Gods, including myself, have to decide if a mortal can become the Goddess of Spring as opposed to just being one of your nymphs,” Barbatos shrugged.

You? A Goddess? Nothing about you was divine. What were these two thinking?

Dottore suddenly erupted in laughter, earning the attention of everybody. His grip on you subconsciously tightened, peering at Wanderer in amusement.

“Can’t believe we had the same thing in mind...”

If someone ever told you that your eyes would be graced by the beauty of Mount Celestia, you would have called them a liar. Your eyes soaked up the atmosphere of this divine place. In the sky, on a cloud, was a whole city filled with Gods, Goddesses, Nymphs and other spiritual creatures.

As you were being escorted by Dottore, Wanderer, and Barbatos, other deities seemed to be looking at you with confusion. Your ears picked up on their whispering, questioning how you were able to ascend to such a holy, unachievable place. While walking to whatever court that would be deciding your fate, a white hair caught your eye. The small girl had slightly-tanned skin, her green-clover eyes wide and full of worry looking at you.

“Scaramouche—” she called out, reaching out his hand, but another man with gray hair put his large arm out, preventing her from getting closer.

“Nahida, it isn’t worth it. You know how he gets. We’ll try to knock some sense out of him after the meeting…” You turned your head forward, pondering on the deities’ conversation. They clearly knew Wanderer— one even wanted to stop him. Would they ever aid you in your escape or remain loyal to their friend?

As much as you wanted to think about escaping, you had to face the 7 ranked Gods of Mount Celestia. Each of them had a high ranking position due to their popularity in your realm. They were mainly praised in bigger villages and towns, but their power was known throughout Japan.

Soon enough, you entered the hall. The building was similar to that of a white marble colosseum. You stood in the middle, along with Dottore and Wanderer. Above you, in scattered seats, were the 12 ranked Gods. With a wink, Barbatos flew up to take his position.

“I, Barbatos, Messenger of the Gods and God of Winds, Festivals and Micheviety call a meeting to see if (Y/N) is deserving of receiving Godhood with the power of spring” Barbatos called out. With his announcement, each of the Gods and Goddess rolled off their names, gazing down at your trembling form.

“There hasn’t exactly been a mortal turned goddess before,” the Goddess of Strength and War, Murtata said, playing with her hair. Her ruby eyes looked down at you in a bored manner. You knew Murata was usually celebrated by warriors.

“I’ve made my decision, she isn’t worthy” Goddess of Justice and Tsunamis, Focolars muttered out, voicing booming loudly in the room. Her cyan eyes were filled with fire and annoyance. She clearly didn’t want to be here, and probably didn’t understand why the Gods sons were infatuated with you—you didn’t exactly understand either. You didn’t know much about Focolars in folklore, all you knew is she had a bad temper.

“Please everyone, let’s calm down. We have two deities speaking in favor of her receiving Goddess-ship,” Morax, the God of Gods, and Contracts announced. You resisted the urge to bow your head. Morax was known to be a merciful ruler with a dark past he was trying to grow from. Out of every God, he probably had your respect the most.

“Firstly, Nahida. Please consider her testimony,” Morax said. In front of you, a plant began to sprout up. It rapidly grew larger, until the white-hair girl before emerged from the plant. She glanced back, giving Wanderer a smile and you, a pitiful glace before her focus went towards the ranked Gods.

“I’ve known (Y/n) for a good portion of their life. They were always kind, helping the village I overlook, continue growing wondrous crops. Instead of indulging in riches or food, they chose to share the gift of produce with young abandoned mortals,” Nahida called out.

“I, therefore, bless her, proud of what she accomplished. My...friend, Scaramouche fancies them, captivated by her kindness and sense of charity, melted his heart. He hopes they can continue showing him new perspectives so that he may continue being a great God,” Nahida finished. Although her back was turned towards you, you could see the sense of dread of Nahida’s face. She must know your true predicament, she was the Goddess of Academics after all. Nahida bowed before walking backward towards Wanderer, his face appearing as you thought it would floating back up and sitting down at her respected seat.

“Thank you, Nahida. Now, for the other one…Tsarista, Goddess of Love” Morax sighed. A cloud puffed towards revealing a young woman. Her white blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, icy eyes cold and glaring at the 7 Main Gods.

“It’s been forever since you’ve summoned me. Since my trial that is,” she scoffed. The Goddess of Love was a difficult deity. She was known for making trouble. It didn’t surprise you to hear she was banished from Mount Celestia as well.

“Dottore has cared for this mortal for so long. It’s honestly unlike him. He’d use any excuse to try and go see them. He was even creepy enough to talk back with them when they was talking to plants,” Tsarista laughed. Dottore scoffed, narrowing his eyes at the Goddess.

“So you did not use your powers on him?” Ei asked. So this was Wanderer’s mother. The Tsarista glared at her.

“That’s right. Dottore never acted so...sweet, before. Come now, he deserves a partner. Do you know how many mortals die a day? Too many to do alone. This might be what motivate him more,” she finished. Morax sighed, placing his hand out to signal his desire for her to be silent. She kept her mouth close, but a small smirk was on her face as she backed away towards Dottore.

“...I’ve heard enough. From my understanding, the two of you are fighting over who shall rule with them. Wanderer walked forward, looking up towards the ranked Gods.

“Yes. After the villagers destroyed part of Nahida’s blessed forest, hurting her in the process, I decided to betroth them so she would be free from their binds. I gave them until the end of the month so that they may enjoy whatever experiences they could as a mortal,” Wanderer responded. Dottore rolled his eyes, stepping forward next to Wanderer.

“They ate death’s fruit, consuming 5 seeds in the process. They are bound to me and Scaramouche can’t change that. They ate this before he collected her at the end of the month,” Dottore called out. Wanderer narrowed his eyes at Dottore but didn’t erupt into anger as he did previously. Morax paused, bright amber eyes looking at your small form before he clicked his tongue.

“How about this? They shall become the God of Spring, doing their duties of sprouting plants and assisting Nahida with the Wanderer. They shall do this as the Wanderer’s mistress from March to September. Once they fulfill their duties assisting the Wanderer, they shall be with Dottore from October to February to help him with whatever he pleases,” Morax called out.

You tried opening your dry mouth, but you couldn’t. What exactly could you say? They terrify you, but if you didn’t agree, you’d most likely be killed on the spot.

You had to play along for now.

“Fine...I agree to it,” Dottore muttered. Wanderer sighed, not looking very pleased with the outcome.

“Very well…” he whispered. Morax clapped his hands, gaining the attention of the rest of the deities.

“Do I hear any descent for this?” Morax hummed. No one spoke up, making the God grunt in response.

“Perfect. I believe a congratulations is in order,” Morax murmured. You lowered your head and took a deep breath before looking back at them with a fake smile. You could feel Wanderer and Dottore’s intense gaze piercing your body.

“...Thank you…”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere dottore #dottore x reader

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hinatastinygiant · 9 months

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Pairing: Itadori x Fem!Reader

Caught in a terrifyingly twisted experiment, Y/N faces a captor obsessed with exploring the breaking point of the human mind. Not to mention that Y/N is also keeping a huge secret about the relationship between her and Itadori from two of her close friends… It'll definitely be one camping trip you'll never forget.

Warnings: Language Warning! NSFW (18+) Sexual Content, Violence!

one [Crimson]

two [Ruby] [NSFW]

three [Scarlet]

four [Burgundy]

five [Cherry]

six [Maroon]

seven [Vermilion]

eight [Rose]

nine [Raspberry]

ten [Mahogany] [NSFW]

THE END.

I DO NOT OWN JJK OR ITS CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE OC’s.

(Updated October 7, 5:00pm est)

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voraciousvore · 3 months

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The Giant and the Princess (1/10)

Length: 10 parts, ~25k words total

Author's Note: This story can be read on its own with no context. However, if you are familiar with my other works, this is the tale of Ajax (Chester's father from The Giant) and his past that is hinted at in The Half-Blood Giant when he gives horrible advice to his grandson. The story takes place in a time where the giants and humans lived together in the same world, before the war between them, and Ajax was still a young man, not the crusty old bastard he is in the other stories.

Word Count for Part 1: 2858

Content Warning: Multiple instances of soft, fatal, unwilling g/t vore, both humans and animals (not too explicit)

------ Part 1 ------

Ajax was hungry, and he smelled blood—not just any blood, but fresh human blood, in a sufficient quantity to be fatal. He was out hunting in the woods, and his interest was piqued, so he followed the scent. The trees in this forest were spaced out widely and gigantic in scale, but not quite as tall as his staggering height of 280 feet, so if he wanted to be subtle he’d have to crouch. He didn’t believe this precaution was necessary, however, if his quarry was already dead.

His keen senses picked up the sound of hooves galloping towards him, bringing with it that distinctive blood scent. He spied the horse through the cover of the leaves on the trees, heading for his feet. The poor creature was spooked, sprinting blindly and frothing at the mouth. Its coat and tack were stained red from its rider, who was sprawled out at an unnatural angle over the saddle. He appeared to be a royal soldier, with flashy armor and insignias decorating his clothes, but he was clearly deceased.

Ajax crouched down and snatched up the horse in his hand. The horse bucked and whinnied, but couldn’t escape as the giant stuffed it into his maw, equipment and rider and all. He swallowed the beast of burden whole, sighing with pleasure as he felt the creature thrashing all the way down his throat into his belly. He smelled more prey nearby, so he prowled forward, prepared for more.

He observed clear signs of a scuffle as he continued on his way: broken tree limbs, chaotic hoof prints in the mud, splashes of crimson, random articles strewn on the ground during a struggle. He came across the corpses of men and horses, slain with arrows and swords and splattered with mud and scarlet. Though Ajax overwhelmingly preferred live prey, since he enjoyed the sensation of his meals squirming in his gut, he wouldn’t refuse fresh meat. He dined on the limp bodies as he passed them, not bothering to strip them of their accoutrements. His stomach was strong enough to tear through such trifles.

He slowed his pace and ducked below the tree line as he heard shouts up ahead. His mouth watered and his heart rate quickened in anticipation of the hunt. He could distinguish at least six unique human scents, each with a horse. He could scarcely believe his good fortune; he would feast richly today. He crept forward with minimal disruption to the surrounding vegetation, balancing himself on his fingertips and the balls of his feet.

Soon enough, the unlucky group of humans came into view. Ajax could tell what was going on right away. Four of the men, all on horseback, were a ragtag group of bandits that were harassing the other two travelers. One lone man, a knight, was fighting a losing battle against them. He was heavily wounded and exhausted as he savagely fought off their blows. The last human was a woman, a petite female, whom the knight was struggling to protect. Her horse was inches from death, bleeding profusely from a wide gash in its neck, and in no condition to carry her to safety. She was lavishly dressed and clearly a high-ranking individual.

The giant saw his opportunity to strike and charged in. With a single sweep of his hand he captured two of the bandits, along with their horses, and shoved them in his mouth. The other two, startled by the intrusion, charged off in different directions. The knight stood his ground to protect the lady, who cowered on her dying horse, but he was obviously terrified. Ajax leapt forward, shaking the earth as he slammed his hand down to block one of the horsemen from escaping. The horse reared up with a frantic neigh and raced in the opposite direction. Ajax corralled the other bandit in a similar fashion, then grabbed them both and gobbled them up with delight.

While the giant was eating the other men, the knight hastened to transfer the lady to his own horse, so they could run away. However, the horse was spooked by the colossal giant stomping around and slaughtering the others. The knight, under normal circumstances, could maintain control of his horse, but in his weakness his hands slid off the reins. The horse bucked off both humans and fled into the forest.

The knight was fading fast from his wounds as he fell to the ground. The woman refused to abandon him and tried to drag him away, but a full-grown man with heavy plate armor was too much for her to handle. She knew she couldn’t outrun a giant with such an impossible burden. She collapsed next to him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Their time had come; they were going to die.

Ajax swallowed his final victim and massaged his twitching belly with a burp. After eating so many writhing men and horses, he was stuffed. His gut was bloated almost to the point of discomfort as it protruded over his belt. He looked down to his feet, at his remaining prey, debating whether he could cram two more people and a dying horse into his limited gut space. He kneeled down to examine them closer. He was surprised the woman didn’t run, despite her lack of injuries. She was crying over the other human, who was barely moving by now. The giant reached down and plucked her up by the back of her dress between his fingers. The tiny lady squealed with fright.

“No!” she blubbered. “Don’t eat us! You have no right! Don’t hurt him…” She sobbed, looking at Ajax with pleading, watery eyes that contradicted her sharp protests.

Normally, when humans begged for their lives, Ajax would just ignore their supplications and eat them anyways. He didn’t hate humans, or have anything against them, but he saw them as food more than as people. He knew some of his fellow giants were crueler, and enjoyed tormenting and toying with more intelligent prey that could plead for mercy, but that wasn’t in his nature. All he wanted was a full belly, and right now his hunger was already sated. Eating another morsel would only cause discomfort from an overly stretched stomach.

He debated what to do with her. He could take her with him, and save her as a snack for later, but he was sure the other giants back home would want to eat her instead. He wouldn’t be able to hide a human with such an enticing aroma, and he didn’t want to get into a fight over food. At the same time, though, it seemed like such a waste to just leave her here. The knight would die from his wounds, and she didn’t appear to have the survival instincts to make it on her own, without being picked off by a wild beast.

Ajax sighed as he looked at her. Humans were difficult to catch, and it would truly be a shame for such a delicacy to be lost to a dumb animal. Besides, as he gazed down at her squirming helplessly in his fingers, he couldn’t help but notice her finery, and her beauty. Even among humans, she was no ordinary specimen. She was disheveled due to the scuffle, but he could make out fair features with almond eyes and flowing flaxen hair. Despite his apathy, he felt the smallest drop of sympathy creep through. It must be a difficult life, to be so pathetic and helpless, with no way to protect oneself from hardship.

Maybe he was just in a generous mood because his day had been fruitful, and his stomach was nice and full, but he decided to help her. Why not? He carefully tucked his fingers under the knight and scooped him into his hand, trying his best not to antagonize his injuries. The man’s forehead was drenched in sweat, and he winced with a soft groan, but he was too delirious from blood loss to protest.

“Don’t you dare touch him! Let him go!” the woman shouted, attacking his fingers with all her strength. Ajax smirked. He had to appreciate her spunk in the face of such unattainable odds.

“Relax, human. I’m not going to harm him,” he assured her. “Nor you.”

She stopped her wriggling, obviously stunned by this new development. “R-really?” she stammered incredulously.

“Nah. I’m not hungry anymore,” he explained. She looked up at him with wide eyes, hardly daring to believe her good fortune. “Where should I take you? Obviously he’s in no condition to walk…”

She blinked, still in shock, then pointed in the general direction. Ajax knew there was a walled human city nearby, complete with a castle and a moat. The humans cast protective spells around their cities so giants couldn’t stomp over and destroy them. Not that Ajax would want to anyway: He was content to pick off the occasional straggler that wandered too deep into the giant woods. His stomach gurgled noisily as he digested his meal, causing the human woman in his hand to shudder.

She stayed silent, but he could feel her trembling with fear. And no wonder: She had just watched him heartlessly devour a whole buffet of men. Ajax felt strange, carrying humans in such a gentle manner. He was used to eating them and breaking them in his hands, not… whatever this was. Somehow, though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, the experience was nice. He liked not having the tiny beings screaming and cowering in terror at his very existence.

He tried not to jostle his hands too much while walking, but the terrain was rough and uneven in patches. A small jolt caused the woman to topple forward in his palm and grip his pinky out of reflex. Her weight was inconsequential in his gargantuan hand, her touch light as a feather. An odd emotion surfaced in his heart, one of mild warmth. He stopped to allow her to regain her balance before continuing. She shivered as she sat in the center of his palm.

Finally, after he strolled along for a few minutes, the city appeared on the horizon. Even from this distance, Ajax could tell how puny the castle was compared to his great height: The tallest tower probably wouldn’t even reach his waist. The knight had lost consciousness, but Ajax figured he would survive as long as he received medical care in a timely manner.

“Th-thank you…” the lady’s miniature voice squeaked from his hand. “Thank you so much…” Ajax glanced down at her. She sat in his palm with her back facing him, but by the shakiness of her voice, the giant suspected she was crying again.

“No problem. I guess,” Ajax grunted in return. For some reason, he felt an urge to pat her on the head with the tip of his finger, but he refrained. She was scared enough as it was; he didn’t want to send her into a panic. It was a miracle she was as docile as she was—most likely out of desperation, not trust.

She turned her head and stole a peek up at his fearsome, yet noble, mien. His dark brown hair was long and untamed, with a thick beard and eyes of a similar shade to match. His features were sharp and defined, with a big nose and a wide mouth with thin lips. She’d never seen a giant firsthand, since she spent most of her time ensconced in the castle walls. Watching him eat all those men was terrifying, yet she was relieved to be spared, and grateful he had rescued her from the bandits whom she had no doubts were trying to kidnap her. He saved her, when it would’ve been very easy to scarf her down like nothing more than a scrap of meat. She was surprised by the compassion he displayed, helping her and her last surviving guard rather than leaving them both to die. She always just assumed that giants were nothing more than revolting man-eating monsters, based on the stories she’d heard. Perhaps not.

Ajax’s approach was far from subtle as he clomped towards the city with his prodigious bulk. The castle guards saw his massive figure from afar and rushed out in case they needed to defend the city. Their valor was commendable, yet they stayed within the confines of the magical barrier where the giant would be unable to tread. The only visual sign of the barrier was an occasional flicker in the air, like a ripple in a clear pond.

The giant stopped outside the barrier, looking down with hesitation at the tiny armed men. He couldn’t reach them, but the barrier didn’t stop the soldiers from lobbing projectiles outward at him. Unless they used heavy artillery, the flimsy arrows and spears of individual men typically weren’t enough to be dangerous, but they could still hurt and draw blood. He slowly bent his knees and lowered himself to the grass. The diminutive guards stiffened, prepared for trouble. Ajax gently touched his hand to the ground so the little lady in his hand could dismount. He set the injured knight down on a soft patch of grass next to her.

The soldiers gasped as she gracefully climbed down from his colossal fingers. “Princess Iris!” several voices called out. The soldiers, virtually in unison, dropped to their knees in respectful bows. Ajax raised an eyebrow. He could tell by her dress and entourage she was somebody of high status, but he didn’t expect her to be royalty.

“Get up, you dullards!” the princess shouted, exasperated. “Help him! He’s dying!” She gestured to the knight, whose body was just outside the barrier. The soldiers froze up; none of them dared forsake the protective magic and expose themselves to a grisly death. The princess, more concerned about the man’s life than her dignity, huffed as she struggled to drag the body herself with her slim little arms. Ajax helped by nudging him along with his finger, until he was stung by the barrier and had to pull away.

As soon as the knight crossed the barrier, the guards rushed to follow the princess’s orders and aid him. A few guards left to alert the king and fetch a horse for the princess so she wouldn’t have to walk like a peasant. Princess Iris regained her regal comportment and watched them scramble to obey. Once she confirmed everything was in order, she turned and looked up at the giant, without a shred of nervousness or fear.

Her mouth didn’t move, but her expressive eyes spoke volumes. She had a vivacious fire that surprised Ajax, even enchanted him. Despite how rough and ragged her dress and hair were after her struggle, her stately aura shined through. It wasn’t just her expensive clothes that distinguished her from the commoners; it was her imperial demeanor and character that resonated with authority. She was no ordinary human woman; Ajax was transfixed.

Her spell gripped him even after she left on a horse adorned with the finest livery. He stayed in place, observing her until she disappeared into the walls of the small city, oblivious to the anxious stares of the soldiers at his feet. Ajax raised himself to a standing position and dusted off his knees. He retreated back into the woods, glancing over his shoulder until the city vanished from view.

He returned the same way that he came, deep in thought. He passed by the dead horse with the slashed throat and the smears of blood in the grass and on the bark of the trees. A familiar scent caught his attention. He turned on his heel, sampling the air through his nose to pinpoint the source. He squatted on his haunches, peering through the leaves. Laying hidden in a disheveled patch of shrubbery was a bright glint that was saturated with the princess’s natural fragrance. Ajax collected the microscopic object carefully between his fingertips and held it close to his face, squinting.

It was a miniscule crown, fitted for her tiny little head. The crown was encrusted with expensive jewels and plated with shining gold. Ajax rolled it between his fingers, fascinated. He stared at the gleaming object for a while before stashing it in his pocket and continuing on his way. The sun was setting, so he decided to return home for the night and prepare for bed.

Later that night, when he laid down to rest, he couldn’t sleep. He fetched the crown to admire it again, playing with it in his fingers. He couldn’t get the tiny woman out of his mind. He recalled the distinct feeling of her small form resting in his palm, and the striking way she looked at him before she left to enter the city. He felt a little sad when he realized he’d probably never see her again. They inhabited vastly different worlds, after all. With a melancholic sigh, he placed the tiny crown on his chest and intertwined his hands over his belly. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

Part 2

Writing Masterpost

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folkloreintime · 1 year

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7 Days of Taylor Smut - Christmas Edition

Day 2 - sugar high

summary: You and Taylor are baking Christmas cookies and things get a little messy

warnings: smut, food play, oral, nipple play, fem!reader

word count: 764

The slight crackle of the fire could be heard as its heat emanated around the room. There were classic Christmas songs playing quietly out of the speaker. The frost on the windows made a perfect backdrop, each icicle so unique. The smell of different sweet spices filled your senses as Taylor pulled a tray of cookies out of the oven.

Immediately, the intense cinnamon and ginger scent overcame you, “That smells so good.” You said, wantonly. Taylor had convinced you to bake with her, even though you were a terrible baker, but she loved it so much you took a chance and it turned out better than expected. “So, when do we get to eat them?” You asked, expectantly, feeling a small rumble in your stomach.

Taylor gave you a small smirk and derisive laugh. “We have to decorate them first!” She grabbed a bowl and began to measure out some sugar for the icing. You were content to just watch her, meticulously measuring her ingredients, mixing them all together so they would incorporate perfectly and her cute little sneeze when some powdered sugar drifted into the air. She noticed you staring and stopped, “What?” She murmured, shyly.

“You look beautiful.” You said, plainly whilst crossing the kitchen counter to come up beside her. You gave her a kiss and when you pulled apart you leaned your foreheads together. She giggled and rolled her eyes playfully and pulled you in for another kiss. Her movements began to speed up as she linked her hands around your neck, using her tongue to push forward into the opening of your mouth.

You pulled back. “Baby, the cookies?” You teased her, not breaking eye contact with her. “Fuck the cookies.” She huffed, her red lipstick was slightly smeared to her chin. “No, no, no… you made all this delicious icing” You said whilst pulling the bowl towards you, “It shouldn’t go to waste.”

You languidly swiped a finger through the mixture and timidly sucked on it, never wavering from her eyes. Swirling the sweet flavour around your mouth, “It's so good, baby, well done. Wanna try?” You asked, quizzically with fake curiosity, knowing she wouldn’t turn it down. She nodded and began to put some on her fingers when you put a hand on her wrist to stop her. “Oh no, baby. Not from there…”

Carelessly, you pulled your sweater off exposing your breasts to the air. You took another swipe from the bowl and started to wipe it on your nipples. A thrill rushed through you as you saw Taylor completely fixated on you. “Okay, take a taste for me, my love.”

She immediately took up one of your nipples, licking every inch, lustfully. She moaned and it vibrated across your skin as you reached a hand down towards her midsection and played with the edges of her shirt. Taylor made sure every dollop of icing had disappeared before moving onto the next breast.

She gave it little nibbles and crossed between sucking on the peak or tonguing around your full flesh. You groaned, the sensation of her mouth making you indescribably wet. When she was satisfied with her effort, she looked up at you, complicity.

You said nothing and instead began to undress her, quickly. You motioned for her to sit on the counter and tediously spread her legs. She looked at you inquisitively, unable to anticipate your next move. Fervently, you lifted a generous amount of icing from the bowl and began to apply it to her thighs.

She gasped as the soft liquid mixture made its way on to her, dripping down her legs. You instantly connected your mouth to her, sucking and lapping at her thigh. And when she cried out, you gave her small bites that turned into lush scarlet bruises that painted her thighs.

For her sake, you began to lick your way up her slit, the sugary mixture mixing with her wetness on your tongue. You suckled on her clit while digging your fingernails into the new scarlet patches you had just made. “Bedroom. Now. Please.” She groaned out as you could see her shiny wetness seeping through her folds, mixing saccharinely with the icing that coated her.

You gave into her requests and a few hours later when you came back to finally ice and decorate your cookies, she half-heartedly scolded you for using most of her mixture, grumbling about how she would have to make more. She did. Half made it onto the cookies and half made it on to her, much to your enjoyment and pleasure.

end.

Day 3 - everything is icy and blue

#taylor swift #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift imagine #taylor swift x fem!reader #taylor swift imagines #taylor swift headcanon #taylor swift smut #taylor swift headcanons #prisaylor #7 days of taylor smut

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randomshyperson · 2 years

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Rulers of The Multiverse - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Chapter Ten

Summary: Strange’s faulty spell will cause a series of unexpected events, from your reunion with the love of your life in another world to the appearance of a child capable of traveling across the multiverse. This story follows the journey of a very tired Guardian alongside mischievous America Chavez and Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: (+18) explicit language and sexual content, violence, a lot of magic, found family, mentions of abusive past and trauma, mind control, use of illicit substances, mostly top!reader, soulmates analogies. CW: a bit of angst and sexual tension. || Words: 6.142k

A/N-> We reach chapter 10 already guys!! Only more 7 to go, hope everyone is liking this so far.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

--//--

Chapter Ten - The Library of Alexandria - Part One

America raised her eyes to the strangest scene of the last few days - and this coming from someone who had been in a universe where animals behaved like people was quite something.

You and Wanda were rolling on the ground, one trying to hold the other by the wrists but seeming to possess exactly the same physical strength, because you couldn't keep the other pinned down. The weirdest part, you were both all covered in paint.

She blinked in confusion, looking around and realizing that you were all in some kind of empty art studio, and from the position in which the portal closed, you and Wanda had hit and knocked the pots of paint off each other before you started rolling.

"Stop resisting, I swear to god I'll turn you into a frog!" She heard Wanda grunt angrily, but you rolled over her again.

"A frog? What are you now, the evil witch from Snow White?" You scoffed back, but your chuckle turned to a grunt of pain when Wanda hit you in the stomach, and America almost laughed at her expression of pure guilt and hesitation when you fell on your stomach.

"Oh, baby, did I hurt you?" Wanda asked worriedly putting her hand on your cheek, and you quickly denied it, even grunting a little. "Good, good. Stay."

But as Wanda stood up, eyes red toward America who flinched in confusion and fear, you grabbed her ankle, causing her to stumble and fall to her knees.

She screamed your name in rage, but you just kept fighting to keep her away from the child, and America began to jump from side to side, dodging the energy balls that Wanda was trying to hit at her in desperation.

"What's going on? I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" America exclaims. "You two lost your minds? Was it the free food and shelter?"

"Hide America, I'll take care of this!" You yell trying to immobilize Wanda again, who hit you on the chin with her elbow as you let go, and as you grunt in pain, she screamed between her teeth:

"Don't you dare run!"

America thought it best to hide, ironically or not, inside a closet.

Suddenly a bell rang, and she heard noises of children, wide-eyed, America jumped out of the closet just as the door to what she once thought was an art studio, and now understood to be a classroom, opened.

At least a dozen children hesitated in their excited rush inside to find two paint-smeared witches wrestling on the floor.

But America was more impressed by the teacher who was exactly like the angriest witch she had ever met.

"Everybody out, everybody out." Ordered the woman in desperation - America was not sure she should call her Wanda as well, since this one had brunette perfect brushed hair pinned by a bee clip, and it looked sweet, very different from the witch covered in colored paint rolling around on the floor with her wife - while pushing the children away, even though the fighting had already stopped. "Go stay with Uncle Steve, go, go."

But two little boys held the teacher's legs tightly. "Mommy, I'm scared!"

"Me too, mom!" Cried the smaller one.

"It's okay, honey, it's almost time to go home, follow the others." Insisted the variant, trying to push the boys outside.

But scarlet magic shut the door hard, and the teacher held the boys tighter, hiding them with her body while shrinking into the corner of the room.

"Please, we won't-" She started only to be cut by the Wanda America actually knew.

"Give them to me." Wanda ordered between her teeth, stepping forward with her hand raised as you failed to follow her with a painful gasp leaving your lips. "They are mine!"

America looked up at you on the floor, clearly losing consciousness, a little blood coming out of her ears, and rushed to kneel down beside you.

"Wanda, I think Y/N is dying..." She tries, but Wanda grunts impatiently.

"She's fine!" Wanda retorts without taking her eyes off her own variant and the frightened little boys, who by now have begun to cry. "Give me my children!"

"Please, you're scaring them." Begs the brunette.

Wanda shakes her head, frowning, but as soon as she notices the tears and the way the boys are cowering, trying to hide behind their mother, her raised hand shakes as her gaze.

"N-no, I’m not… I would never… I'm just trying to..." She starts to justify herself and shudders with fright when the door opens all at once.

"Wanda?" Your variant asks and frowns in confusion at finding the witch, but the fright is short-lived, because as soon as your variant finds brunette Wanda cowering in the corner, you stand in front of them, one hand raised. "Stay away from my family."

"What, I don't-" Wanda starts, but your variant looks at her seriously.

"Please, you can take whatever you want. We're just an art school, but we have some savings. Just don't hurt us." Your variant insisted with concern in their eyes.

"I would never hurt you." Wanda retorts with a tear-stained face, feeling her heart-shattering in her chest at the horror she finds in yours and the twin's faces. "I would never hurt them, or anyone.."

"Then let us go." Your variant asked seriously, and Wanda swallowed dryly but nodded. They ran out of the room quickly, rushing to join the other kids outside and Wanda sobbed as she was left alone.

She wanted to cry, for hours and hours until the shame and guilt were out of her chest. But America started calling her name, and she had to push those feelings aside to focus on what was happening at that moment.

"Wanda." America called out again, and she tried to control her tears before looking up. "She really needs help."

As soon as she sees the way your eyes are lost, Wanda rushes over to meet you, gently patting your cheek.

"Hey, hey, look at me." She asks in a whiny voice, but you blink helplessly. "No, don't close your eyes."

"Wanda, you can't let her die." America asks in desperation from her side, and Wanda grunts, shaking her head.

"No one is going to die." She retorts, turning her gaze back to the girl. "Do your trick."

America frowns in confusion. "But how will I know-"

Before she can complete, Wanda places her hand on her cheek, her eyes reddening like America's.

"She needs magic." Wanda warns, and America at her command raised her hand in the air. "Find a universe where Oshtur's influence is strong."

You've lost your mind, this will kill you. Chthon screams in her mind, but Wanda only silences him.

The portal opens and she releases America, focusing her magic on carrying you on her lap and marching inside.

–//–

Wanda feels as if she has a very strong cold, but with no other symptoms than extreme tiredness in her muscles.

You, on the other hand, are helping America pick an apple from a high branch.

It's been a couple of hours since you woke up - and a dozen or so since they arrived in this universe - and you've been wandering aimlessly.

You would think this world had no civilization whatsoever if it weren't for the signs you found on the empty roads, and Wanda would have tried somewhere else if you hadn't improved so dramatically since you arrived.

"Here you go, shorty." You teased as you came down from the branch with a golden mace that you handed to America.

"Climbing a tree doesn't make anyone taller." She grumbles as you accept it.

"Sorry, I can't hear you from down there." You mock laughing as you receive a gentle nudge.

Wanda can barely smile at the scene, feeling a fever forming. But when you meet her gaze, she does her best to cover it up.

America walks ahead of you, trying to make all the birds that have landed on the grass fly away at once. And you lick your lips before you build up the courage to ask:

"Are you mad at me?"

Wanda blinks in confusion. "What, why?"

You give a lopsided laugh. "Well, for everything. From overwhelming you with my memories to taking you to a universe where your children exist."

Wanda sighs heavily, shaking her head. "No, Y/N."

"It's okay if you are." You assure her. "I'll just figure out a way to stay healthy, and we can find another world where Billy and Tommy-"

"No." She interrupts, swallowing a wagon in her throat. "I don't want to do this anymore."

You blink in confusion but then assume a sad expression. "Oh, I understand. I can wait here and America will take you to where you want to go and then you make her come back and-"

"What?" Wanda cuts in again with a frown.

"I figured you were saying you didn't want to be around me anymore."

Wanda gives a tired laugh, shaking her head. "I don't want to look for the kids around the multiverse anymore."

"Oh." You exclaim in surprise. "Oh. B-but why?"

Wanda sighs, shrugging. "I just... I don't hear him here. And even if I did listen, something clicked when I saw the twins looking at me like that. And your variant too." She counters. "It wasn't the first time someone had looked at me in fear, but it sure was the hardest."

You swallow dryly, listening without interrupting. Wanda sighs again. "I just mean that I don't want to keep doing this." She says. "Invading worlds after versions of my children. They won't be my Billy and Tommy, and like you said, what happens if something bad happens to them? If they get sick or worse, die? Do I trade them in for others? I don't want that."

You became quiet at her words, tugging at the loose strands of her shorts. "Yeah, I understand."

Wanda tries to meet your gaze, but you clear your throat and continue looking forward.

"When I find a solution for my health, we'll take you home."

Wanda hesitates but nods as she forces a smile. She throws her hair out of her eyes, and after a moment, asks:

"Why have you never tried telepathy to choose the next universe?"

You give her a humorless laugh. "Because it's invasive and painful." You say simply. "America is probably the only family I have now, and the only friend I had in this vast multiverse. When I started traveling the worlds after you, I didn't want her to think that I was only using her for her powers, she was important to me too. I would rather make rules, and make sure she was safe, even if it slowed us down than let her have that wrong impression."

Wanda absorbs your words for a moment, and just as you start kicking the grass with your feet, she calls out to you, getting a hum that you were listening in return.

"I just think that for someone who heard all her life that she was selfish, you think a lot about other people." She says and gives you a short smile when you raise your surprised eyes to her.

You walk back in silence, stealing glances and smiles for a few moments until America joins you again.

"Let me guess, you're hungry." You comment receiving a guilty chuckle in return. "But I just picked a golden apple for you!"

Wanda smiles at the interaction, although her head is hurting a bit.

"It's not my fault, we waited too long for you to wake up!"

"We?" Wanda retorts with an arched eyebrow, remembering all too well America sleeping next to you.

"Wanda spent a long time waiting for you to wake up." America corrects humorously. "And just look at her pale face, I'm sure she's hungry too."

You give a light chuckle, but seem to absorb the meaning of America's sentence a second later, your gaze wavering as you notice the paleness on Wanda's face.

"Hey, Wands, are you okay?"

"Mm-hmm, just a little tired from the walk." She lies so easily she can almost laugh from the irony of the events.

"Can't you two conjure something, Miss Super Important Sorceress and her Evil Witch wife?" America asked playfully, and this time, Wanda chuckled lightly at the nickname. You rolled your eyes, ruffling Chavez's hair and causing her to grunt and turn away.

"You don't use creation magic so lightly, America." You said.

"Lame." She grumbled and before you could retort, Wanda let out a tired sigh.

"Actually, I think the idea of conjuring a car sounds great." She said and forces a neutral expression as you look at her with concern. "I am tired, and I would appreciate not having to walk forever."

You sigh, but nod in understanding. "You, hm, want to do the honors?"

Wanda shakes her head quickly and disguises it with a forced smile. "You feel better right? I'm sure you can use your magic here."

You look at her suspiciously, but don't insist, eventually not asking anything else again when America excitedly jumps up next to you trying to make several suggestions as to which vehicle you should conjure.

You ended up conjuring up some sort of travel van, against the laws of physics and mechanics but within the laws of magic, two floors so that America had a room to herself - even though she insisted on sitting in the passenger seat next to you - and two single beds for you and Wanda.

The redhead went to rest in the back of the vehicle, and America busied herself with the radio while you drove.

"This magic is pretty cool, but can't you conjure some decent music?" The kid asked making you laugh with an arched eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon? Are you criticizing my taste in music?"

"I don't know any of those bands..." She grumbles but you lean over to take one of the CDs from her hand.

"What are you talking about, I showed you The Cure on our fourth or fifth trip! And not knowing Frank Sinatra is just a multiversal crime."

America laughed rolling her eyes and taking the CDs from your hand to add to the other pile. "Okay, I know the names. But it's nothing I want to hear right now. Can't you make a Taylor Swift CD or something?"

You sigh and roll your eyes with amusement. "1989 or Reputation's era?"

"I think Lover suits the moment more."

You laugh at the insinuation, but end up conjuring up the entire collection in case America changes her mind. Soon, the soft melody begins and you focus on the empty road as Chavez hums softly beside you.

This quiet moment continues for a few hours of empty road, and even though the signs still appear, you are getting tense with the lack of civilization.

"Hey, Chavez." You call out to her - who is in the seat next to you with a packet of cheese snacks from the cupboards in her lap - and received a mouthful of hum in return. "Have you ever gone to an empty universe?"

America made a thoughtful expression and finished chewing before answering:

"Not really." She said. "But I have been to very, very empty universes. Once, I appeared in a world where everyone was small and the countries were all visible at my feet. And I was so guilty of stepping on the Eiffel tower that I opened a portal on the spot."

You laugh softly at the story. "That sounds like a dream."

She shrugs her shoulders, muttering a "Could be." before going back to eating.

You turn your attention back to the empty road, trying to convince yourself that the lack of people might not be a bad sign.

Meanwhile, Wanda tries to maintain a decent sleep with considerable difficulty.

She has managed to fall asleep at times, only to wake up with small jolts because of the content of her dreams.

Chthon's influence, however low, was still there. But he chose to torture her in another way apparently because Wanda was not having terrible dreams about her twins, but very hot dreams about you.

The first one looked a lot like one of the memories you showed her, only instead of her variant, Wanda was the one riding you. And she could feel everything, from the dildo filling her completely, to your hands guiding her hips, and your lips and panting whispers against her ear.

She woke up in a jolt so sudden that she hit her head on the overhead cabinet, and had to quickly mumble that everything was fine when you and America asked from the steering wheel what had happened.

She assumed it had been an embarrassing coincidence, but once she managed to fall asleep again, the second dream was even better than the first.

She was back in her cabin, and you arrived on the 157th day as arranged. And you didn't even give her time to greet you properly before you kissed her hard, clothes falling off on the way as you stumbled in. Wanda threw her head back as your tongue sank into her, and just as she was reaching her high, she woke up in a jump.

The second knock hurt more than the first, and she muttered another mumbled "I’m fine" before putting an arm over her eyes.

This had to be some divine punishment. Delicious, embarrassing divine punishment.

Wanda had two more dreams - one of your fingers inside her as she tried and failed to make dinner, and one of you in her old bed in the Avengers compound, making out hot and hard under the blankets - The last of which was enough for her to take an attitude, and get up with a frustrated sigh.

But she let out a pained grunt as she sat up, suddenly very nauseated.

Oshtur was clearly not a fan of her there.

She tried to calm herself for a few minutes and smiled as she recognized Taylor Swift from a distance, taking a deep breath before joining you at the front of the Van.

"Hey." She greeted and felt almost out of place by the way that both you and America offered her kind smiles.

"Man you need to see how much food Y/N conjured up!" America counted excitedly, getting out of the armchair to open the cupboards. "There's everything from chocolate to cheese snacks, and toast and soda and-"

"Any vegetables?" Wanda asks with an easy smile, making you and America grunt softly. She laughs at the reaction. "Do you know how to feed a kid properly, Y/N?"

"It's a magic van on a planet of golden apples, Wanda, I'm sure the snacks must have all the vitamins she needs." You humorously retort, and Wanda laughs again, moving to take the seat America left empty.

The kid rests her arms on top of the two seats. "Hey, when are you going to teach me how to drive?" She asks you, and the reaction of disbelief from you and Wanda is equal and immediate.

"Excuse me? You're like 12 years old." You retort, and America rolls her eyes.

"You know I'm 13." She grumbles, but with that, you let out an exclamation.

"Oh my God, America, your birthday!" You say. "I totally forgot about that."

"What about it?" She asks confused, but you let out a sigh of suppression.

"Have you forgotten what Doctor Strange said when we arrived at the Kamar Taj? It's been a whole year since we started our trip." You remind her, losing the thoughtful expression that is beginning to form on Wanda's face. "That means you're 14 years old now!"

"Oh, that's nice." She mumbles half-heartedly, but you let out another exclamation;

"Nice? It's incredible! It's our first birthday together, I'm going to get you a present." You say, and charm the steering wheel to drive by itself as you leave the chair and head to the back of the Van. Wanda lets out a soft exclamation, not trusting this very much, and takes your seat as America follows you to the back.

"Y/N, you don't have to give me anything." She says in a shy chuckle, but you just grumble as you rummage through the cabinets. "What are you doing?"

"Creation magic is intentional, but in the automatic, it is bound to our unconscious." You answer without looking at her. "That means I'm waiting for my brain to think of an amazing gift because I have no idea what to give you."

America and Wanda laugh softly at your response, and it takes about five minutes for you to let out a celebratory exclamation and pull a medium velvet box from the upstairs closet.

"That sounds promising." You mutter to yourself before extending the box to America in a theatrical manner that makes her laugh. "Come on, it took me a long five minutes to get a breakthrough on this."

She rolls her eyes with amusement, but as soon as she opens the box and the small gold necklace glistens in her eyes, her smile falters.

"Hey, Y/N, this is actually pretty cool." She says sincerely, and you let out a small exclamation of excitement.

"Yay, I'm so good at giving gifts!" You celebrate by making her laugh before taking the cue to help her put on the star necklace. The next silly joke doesn't leave your lips because America hugs you tightly just as you finish putting the necklace on her, and you sigh in surprise before matching it.

"Thank you, I love it."

"Don't mention, kiddo." You retort, and as you move to put the velvet box away, America moves back forward to show Wanda your gift.

You stayed in a relaxed mood for at least another hour and a half, until America's eyes began to grow heavy and you suggested she try her new room. As soon as the girl climbed the small wall staircase to the room above, you took the passenger chair.

Wanda seemed a bit lost in thought, and you didn't want to disturb her, so you busied yourself with the radio. When Don't Blame Me started playing, she asked you about the silence of this world.

You hugged your legs thoughtfully. "At first I thought it was strange, but someone must have built the roads and put up the signs right?"

Wanda sighed. "I guess so, but we've been driving for almost six hours now haven't we?"

"Mm-hmm."

A pause. "It's weird." You and she say together, exchanging a small smile of complicity.

"Maybe it's another world where the celestial has emerged?" you suggest, and Wanda scrunches her face lightly.

"God, don't even remind me of this." She mutters. "When the evil huntress version of Nat told me there was a giant robot growing inside the earth that was born to destroy the planet I thought I had gone crazy."

"You got before that, with the book of the damned thing." You joked in a mocking tone, receiving a pinch in the ribs although Wanda laughed as well. After you stopped chuckling, you added, "No, I totally understand. In my world, the story of the Celestials is in fairy tale books for children. It's a scary bedtime story. I don't think anyone has ever survived the emersion to warn people that they are actually out there. Or maybe, no one ever tried to stop them."

"It's so creepy." Wanda murmurs half thoughtfully. "And it kind of makes things, so... small."

You grunt in agreement. "That's exactly what I said when I read about them, can you believe it? Colossus growing inside the earth that destroy the whole planet with their birth. I thought it was the most unlikely thing of all because no chance of having anything more significant than me failing to conjure a portal in Master Mordo's class." You comment with a chuckle that Wanda accompanies. "And it just so happened that not only them but a lot more grander stuff than a hard lesson was real. I guess Kamar Taj's lessons work out in the end."

"Which ones?"

You squirm slightly in your seat, looking out at the scenery.

"Well, you know, for you to learn about the mystic arts you have to open your mind to all this supernatural stuff and gods and so on." You mutter. "And I think one of the first things they teach us is about our insignificance in the face of the cosmos. And how nothing matters but maintaining the natural order."

Wanda sighed softly. "Don't take it personally, but to be honest, it seems kind of miserable to live thinking nothing matters."

You smiled, resting your face on your knee. "Exactly, Wanda. Why do you think I've abandoned the Kamar Taj so many times?"

She laughs shyly, trying to focus on the direction as she feels your gaze on her. You swallow dryly before diverting onto the road again.

After a few more minutes of driving between beautiful but empty orchards, and with only the sound of the radio, you hear Wanda grunt softly and raise a curious look at her.

"Are you okay?"

Wanda thinks about lying, but the truth escapes her lips first. "Just a little cold."

You don't question why she doesn't conjure up a sweater, and makes your way to the back of the van, only returning when you have a dark denim jacket in your hands.

"It's so weird how the closet has all my favorite clothes from both life and television." You comment as you hand the item to her, missing the way Wanda looks at you because you are sitting down. She mumbles a thank you as she puts the item on, but after another few minutes, she grunts coldly again. "Wands, are you sure everything is okay?"

She swallows dryly, and forces a smile at you, only when she meets your worried gaze, does all her walls come tumbling down at once. She shifts her gaze to the road as she says:

"I'm just feeling a little weak since we arrived, and I don't want you to worry."

You frown, immediately settling into the armchair and assuming a worried posture. "How weak?"

"Y/N, don't start, we needed to come to a universe where Oshtur's influence was strong for you to get better, and Chthon muttered something about it being bad for me but I wasn't going to let you-"

The van brakes hard and all at once.

"God, why did you do that?" Wanda shouts in shock, but you shake your head in the negative.

"I didn't do anything!" You say quickly.

Wanda looks away in confusion and then notices the stop sign. "What the hell...?" She starts by sticking her head out the window at the empty street, "But there's no one coming by."

She tries to accelerate the car again, and half hesitantly moves forward as the vehicle - or the planet - allows it.

"That's going to go into the weirdest things of the year." You mutter settling into your chair. "Speaking of which, I just remembered that you still have the book of the damned. Can you hand it to me?"

"No."

"I wasn't asking."

Wanda lets out a short, ironic laugh, without looking away from the road to you. "You don't want to get into that, honey, I assure you."

But you just threw a charm on the steering wheel again and advanced on Wanda, causing her to grunt in surprise at being held in your lap. She let out an exclamation next, but you carried her into the room, and the single beds moved and turned into one for you to throw her on.

"You are not weak for being a Scarlet Witch, you are weak for carrying the forbidden book of Chthon into a realm blessed by Oshtur." You say hovering your Wanda, both hands resting at the side of her head.

The redhead thinks she deserves a lot of recognition for being able to debate with you in this proximity.

"How can you say that with certainty?"

"I am a very intelligent sorceress."

"You are very annoying that's for sure." She retorts but the van brakes hard again, and she chokes softly as gravity throws you forward, your body pressing hers perfectly before you pull away again.

"Pretty please, Wanda." You insist with a short smile, and to torment her, you trace a line down her hip. "Come on, tell me where you hide it."

"Y/N, get off me." She retorted between teeth, her cheeks reddening as she kept her gaze on the roof of the van.

Instead of obeying her, your fingers tapped the front pocket of your jeans. "I know it wasn't in this one..." You comment, moving your fingers the other way, and causing Wanda's breathing to hitch as you trace a line across the front. But you stop at the left pocket, "Is it here?" You ask in the same tone, this time sticking two fingers inside her pocket, and Wanda swears her neck must be burning. "Too bad, it wasn't."

You hum lightly, and when Wanda feels your hand begin to skirt the curve of her ass to her back pocket, she lets out a sharp sigh and closes her eyes tightly, letting out a shaky:

"Stop."

Your movements stop immediately, and you move your hands away to the side of her body, looking at her intently. "Are you going to tell me where you hide it?"

She nods with her eyes already open, and you smile, moving away and standing in the doorway.

Wanda swallows dryly, being able to breathe normally with you at an acceptable distance, and with a simple movement in the air, the book cuts a slit and appears, floating around.

"Thanks, that wasn't so hard was it?" You tease, and she is ready to curse when the car brakes again. The dark hold flies off, but you hold it before it passes into the corridor.

And this time, the car doesn't move again.

You and Wanda exchange glances and you tuck the book under your arm before walking to the door. America - who by now has woken up from the amount of braking - comes down the stairs with a sleepy expression, and Wanda stands in front of her in case of any threat outside.

After taking a deep breath, you open the van door. But there is no one there, only a sign.

It reads Βιβλιοθήκη Αλεξάνδρειας (Library of Alexandria) in gold letters. You only have time to frown before the door closes by itself, and the car starts moving again.

"What the hell is wrong with this place?" You complain loudly, but Wanda and America are rushing into the front seat.

"Y/N, I think we're in Greece!" Wanda comments impressed as she sees the landscape of a typical Greek-Roman town begin to form as if it had always been part of the end of the road.

You grunted softly, dark hold under your arm as you approached them as well.

"And no one thinks the ghost road and the magic signs are weird?" You questioned, but America shrugged.

"We're in a van that you made out of your head right?"

"Fair enough." You mutter, and when the girl looks curiously at the book, raising a hand to the cover, you and Wanda let out loud, worried exclamations at the same time.

"Never touch that!" You warn together and America's eyes widen, raising her hands in surrender.

"Okay!" She says, laughing softly at the faces. "I think I'll go back to my room."

"No, kiddo, look there." You say pointing to the majestic building where the same name on the sign read. "I think we're supposed to come down now."

It becomes evident that this is exactly what it is when the car stops in front of the entrance, and simply refuses to move even if you charm it.

After grunting in irritation, you, Wanda, and America decide that there is no alternative but to get out of the vehicle.

The three of you make your way to the long, majestic golden door, and America wastes no time in rhythmically knocking.

Wanda, arms crossed at her side, looks at the darkhold under your arm before meeting your gaze.

"Will you be holding this the whole time?" She asks.

"Well, it's a library, they might want to keep it." You retort with a smile, and she decides not to answer.

The doors open the next moment, and apparently like the rest of the country, the place is completely empty.

"Hey, America, stay close." You warn as soon as you see the girl's sparkling eyes, and give Wanda's hips a gentle nudge as you add, "You too, witchy." which makes her roll her eyes in amusement.

Alexandria was the name that belonged to the largest library in history in your world, and you don't think even that does justice to the size of this place.

Countless, endless rows of books and scrolls, which seemed to stretch on and on as you tried to look at the end.

You tried to follow the girls, holding the darkhold tightly under your arm, and looking for any sign that this place was inhabited.

"Oh my god, they have books from my planet!" America exclaimed suddenly, running between two bookshelves further on probably as she recognized letters that your translation rune was unable to read for you.

You and Wanda followed her to this shelf, looking curiously at all the strange books she was tracing the cover until you heard a noise of something falling.

"Okay, everyone ready to fight or run." You tell them with light humor before starting to move forward into what appeared to be a hallway division center.

Scanning the place, at first, you didn't notice anything different. A stack of brown books, a stack of blue books, a birdman, a stack of yellow books and-"

"What the fuck is that?" You exclaimed loudly startling both the girls and the obvious library employee - with his short hat and blue uniform.

The man let go of the books he was carrying with an animalistic scream, hovering in the air a few inches in fear, until he let out a nervous laugh at the sight of the invaders.

"By the sacred Oshtur, don't do that." Complained the birdman placing his hand on his heart, his large, golden wings quivering on his back for a moment.

"Pardon me, sir." You said taking a hesitant step forward. "We are visitors."

He laughed, blinking in surprise and only seeming to really realize what he was seeing now. "Visitors? No, no, that's impossible. We don't have visitors yet."

"B-but my car brought us here, yes?" You insist seriously, even though the man has started picking up the fallen books, and doesn't seem to be paying much attention. "And well, I don't know if it makes a difference but you should know that-"

"I know everything yes, yes." He interrupts lifting all the books, and to your surprise, he starts flying, taking the objects to the higher shelves in that room.

"And do you know who we are, birdface?" America asks half loud enough to be heard. The man gives a short chuckle, and the books set themselves on the shelves as he descends.

"Yes, yes, look here." He says moving to what looks more like a reception desk in that place. He pulls out a logbook, which although thick, has all the empty pages. Or, you get the odd idea, you are the one who is unable to read the ink. But he goes almost to the last page and points his finger at the first line. "Look, it's written, yes? At sunset."

And there it was, in bold:

Wanda Maximoff (The Scarlet Witch - Origin Reality: Earth-616A. Belonging Reality: Not Applicable). Delayed Return. Darkhold.

Y/N L/N Maximoff (The Guardian of Order - Origin Reality: Earth-616B - Belonging Reality: Applicable to Forge of the Corresponding Witch). Loan For Internal Use. Book of the Vishanti.

America Chavez (Miss America [Uninitiated] - Reality of Origin: Utopian Parallel Dimension. Belonging Reality: Not applicable. Withdrawal. Handbook of Cosmic Interdimensional Teleportation, Volume One.

"I was waiting for you all at sunset, I don't like people who come early or late." Complained the birdman, but you and the girls were too shocked by the logbook to say anything to him. He sighed impatiently.

"Let's move along, without further delay, especially Miss Maximoff and her overdue darkhold. Gracious Oshtur made Aarif immortal but not patient, yes?" Said the man closing the register tightly and starting to walk towards the next room.

You blinked away the shock and forced your legs to walk.

--//--

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x yn #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #Rulers of The Multiverse

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

Note

Omg SR reader on her period. How the bucci gang takes care of her?😳

🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ TAKING OFF AT TOP SPEED TO ANSWER THIS

Warnings: Some mild not SFW implications, Reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

Giorno

Your GioGio is excellent at reading between the lines and likely knows what you want before you even know what you want. His main concern is ensuring you’re content and as comfortable as you can be, he’ll stop at nothing to achieve this. Giorno knows you’re not helpless, but during this time, he tends to be somewhat more protective of you. Absolute zero tolerance for nonsense. Some pushy solicitor on the street keeps bothering you? He’ll wrap an arm around your shoulder and give them a stare so frigid even you can’t help but shiver. Tourists keep asking for directions? Giorno will either take over for you or come up with an excuse to whisk you away. He’s always an ideal gentleman, but he ramps it up when you’re on your period. You joke that he’s like a prince (a comment that actually manages to fluster him some). He’ll take your shoes off and massage your feet at the end of the day, dry your hair after you shower, bridal carry you to a warm bath if your muscles are sore... he wasn’t joking when he said you’d want for nothing if you gave him in the honor of accepting his affections.

Bruno

Bruno becomes sweet enough to give you cavities. He actually really likes the thought of doting on you 24/7, but doesn’t want to come off as infantilizing, so this gives him the perfect excuse to really pull out all the stops. Anything work-related on your most difficult days he promises to see to himself so you can take it easy. He wakes up extra early each morning despite being worn out himself, cooking up your favorite foods and bringing you breakfast in bed. Should any carnal needs arise on your part he’s more than happy to sate them. The presence of blood is nothing to a mafioso, after all. He’ll never admit it, but there’s something nice and domestic about having you rely on him so heavily. If the two of you aren’t married yet, he’ll really feel like you’re husband and wife. You’re trusting him at your most vulnerable. It makes his heart soar just thinking about it. May or may not visit a jeweler while he’s out getting you some snacks to start eyeing different engagement rings...

Fugo

Since you were both roomies for a while, he’s somewhat familiar with the affliction you endure when it’s that time of the month. Back then, he’d quietly do a few more chores, but never address it directly. Now that you’re in a romantic relationship, he tries to be more intentional. Fugo probably knows when you’re cycle is about to hit days in advance and asks if you have everything you need. While he normally enjoys engaging in dry banter with you, he tones it down so as not to accidentally upset you when you’re at your most emotionally sensitive. He’s at an absolute sputtering loss when you cry. He internally berates himself for not doing more, when in reality, you think he’s doing a great job of taking care of you. Your boyfriend sets unrealistically high expectations for himself in everything and settles for nothing less than perfection. Fugo gets disheartened when he considers another man may be treating you like a princess when being super affectionate is something he struggles with. Express some gratitude to him and he might actually get emotional. Now you’re crying, he’s crying (though he refuses to admit it), everyone’s crying...

Mista

Mista is chill about almost everything in life and that applies here. Absolutely the type to run to the store at 3am if you got hit with a random craving. He’s down for whatever would help you feel better, just tell him and he’s on it. Want to cuddle nonstop in your pajamas? His arms are already open and he’s telling you to come on over. Prefer having space? No problem, he’ll be in the next room over, ready to drop everything and amble over the second you ask. Even the Pistols, notorious for their snack-thieving ways, come together and form a pact until your period’s over. Then your snacks are fair game again. Normally, you both alternate choosing what movies/shows to watch. Mista releases this rule for now and will watch whatever you want without complaint. This is a privilege exclusive to you.

Narancia

It’s actually you who is comforting him the first time you get your period while living together. You wake up to him acting like you’re a priest at a confessional booth, admitting to all the supposed wrongdoings he’s never told you about. He tells you he’s the one who ate you leftovers that one time, not Mista, and that dress you liked that mysteriously disappeared is because he got rid of it when people kept checking you out in public. Groggily, you have to calm him down and explain that you’re not dying despite all the blood. He almost passes out in shock when you tell him periods don’t go away until you’re like, 45 or something. Narancia was a few seconds shy of calling an ambulance. From that point on, he’s super sweet, asking if you need anything nonstop. Is even more grateful for your existence than usual after what he assumed to be a life-threatening scare.

Abbacchio

Abbacchio tends not to take initiative, not for a lack of caring on his part, he just doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He figures if he wasn’t feeling well, the last thing he’d need was someone hovering over him nonstop. A lot more lowkey than the others. His love shines through in the small details — washing the sheets/blankets while you’re away so your bed is always clean and smelling nice, setting out painkillers for you every morning, offering to handle meal prep/cooking/cleanup. You both normally split chores, but he picks up your half without even needing to be asked. Abbacchio’s a big softie for you no matter what that prickly exterior portrays. He gets grumbly and flicks you on the forehead should you point this out to him, though he’s all bark and no bite. Calls you a “spoiled brat” then proceeds to tuck you into bed ten minutes later. The duality of a man.

#giorno x reader #bruno x reader #fugo x reader #mista x reader #narancia x reader #abbacchio x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #bucciarati x reader #pannacotta fugo x reader #guido mista x reader #narancia ghirgha x reader #leone abbacchio x reader #jjba x reader #vento aureo x reader #scarlet ribbons #answered #Anonymous

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mudstoneabyss · 10 months

Note

can you make a list of your top indie horror game recs ::3

yeah! so these wont be in order of what i like the most, they're just going to be here in whatever order I think of them. i'm also trying to go with what I think are more lesser-known ones, and if one is more popular it'll because I think it's one people write off that are actually good. as i'm writing this i'm going back up to say the descriptions for these will become less detailed because i got tired and cant keep repeating the art!! the atmosphere!!

Scarlet Hollow: A heavily choice-based horror mystery visual novel about going back to Scarlet Hollow- a small town in south historically ran by your family- for the funeral of your late aunt. its episodic and there are currently only 4 of the 7 episodes out. even with just them it is my favorite game. I love the writing and the art and the whole atmosphere of the game AND the soundtrack brought Brandon Boone (the composer) into my top 5 artists in my spotify wrapped last year

Slay the Princess: Another choice-based horror visual novel (and dating sim!) by the creators of Scarlet Hollow where you are tasked with, well, slaying the princess to prevent the destruction of the entire world. It's only a demo right now-releasing q3 of this year- but I'm excited for the whole game! my selling point for it with my followers is that the narrator (and some other characters) are voiced by Jonny Sims and hey podcast fans you like him check out this game

Endacopia: A click and point horror game inspired by Humongous Entertainment games such as Pajama Sam. Currently also a demo and set to release in October of 2024, I can not emphasize enough how excited I am for it. The game's style is so fun and there's lots of little details and the music??? There's two musical numbers in the demo alone. Some of the style and writing also reminds me of Undertale and even Homestuck somewhat (I say as someone who hasn't read homestuck)

FAITH: The Unholy Trinity: This is an 8-bit style horror game inspired by the 1980s Satanic Scare coming in 3 chapters with multiple endings, a very good example of games not needing high-end realistic graphics to be scary

Doki Doki Literature Club: Glances at my icon. who could've seen this one coming. I feel like most people know about ddlc by now, even if they don't know anything past "horror anime dating sim". It starts off for a long while a seemingly normal, if bland, visual novel dating sim until-seemingly suddenly- twisting into psychological horror. There's, however, a lot of foreshadowing once you see the beginning again after knowing what will happen. Honestly I think this games brilliant and its such a shame it somehow got lumped in with "cringe" mascot horror (its not even a mascot horror game?). For me a lot of the horror comes from the amount of scares left up to a random percentage- and how subtle a lot of them are. You can replay it and have a fairly different experience than you did the first time- and be scared by completely new things. There's also this existential and cosmic horror element that is less one you experience while playing it, i think, and more thinking about it afterwards. This isn't even touching on a lot of the secrets and easter eggs. a few years after the original game came out, Doki Doki Literature Club Plus was released, and it leaves the og game experience essentially untouched while adding a new vn experience the length of the og game (thats seemingly horror-less) as well as some more lore to the world, not of the game, but around the game, and builds more on the existential/cosmic horror. Needless to say from the length of this, I adore this game. also take the content warnings seriously, in the (free) og the game opens with warnings and a link to a page with specific tws, and in ddlc+ you are given the options to see those warnings listed before starting the game, as well as the ability to turn on tw pop-ups before game events

Home Safety Hotline: Also currently a demo, a horror game where you work for a home safety hotline, answering calls to help people deal with pests and other household problems. as the game progresses you get some more... off-putting calls and access to more unusual problems. I love games that put you into the role of someone who works a mundane job dealing with horrifying shit (similar reasoning to why I like the I'm On Observation Duty games, which I think are more popular rn than I want to put on this list)

NiGHT SIGNAL: By the same creator of Home Safety Hotline, this one's a short one about getting a new tv set and finding some strange channels during the night, inspired by The Twilight Zone and a 1995 game, The Dark Eye. A lot of the art in the game is done with clay which creates this really nice uncanny look and atmosphere- details about which you can see in an artbook you unlock after playing the game, which is REALLY cool I adore seeing the creativity behind and what goes into games like these.

and there's a bunch more I like, these are just the ones off the top of my head and I also dont feel like typing a bunch more dfnafnsk I'll also say if yall haves one you really like that I havent mentioned feel free to send an ask talking about them

#ask #anonymous #I'll ramble off a few more um #WATER WOMB WORLD is really good but I think a lot off ppl know Yames's games. Darkness Under My Bed I haven't played myself or seen too #too much of but I loved what I saw. Cooking Companions I played the demo and enjoyed but I havent played the full game though I plan on #doing so. Future Racer 2000. Cave Crawler. The Missing Parts of Maria Gwozdek. Out of Hands I've also only seen part of but I think slays #long post #I also have a BUNCH of itch horror game pages bookmarked to play

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scifimagpie · 6 months

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Heads Up 7 Up

@bluberimufim got me this time, so y'all are getting more CLIMACTIC DRAMA from the tail end of Monsters and Fools! It's the sequel to this

MAJOR CONTENT WARNINGS FOR GORE, BLOOD, MURDER, POLICE VIOLENCE, ALL APPLY. BE WARNED.

***

I thought I’d seen a lot of blood before, like when Akheilos bit Chloe’s arm, but—this was a fountain. Scarlet spattered over me as he lurched forward. His weight, deadweight, pressed onto me as he gurgled and struggled. He whimpered, and I felt the loose red flesh around his neck catch my hair. I heard the clicking of blunders, but Una was next to me, pinned underneath his massive body. The cops were yelling at each other. Everything around me was red and sticky. Una’s arms had tangled around me somehow, and even that hurt, because of my ribs. Always the fucking ribs.

***

Tagging in!

@cheeto-flavoured-pasta @enne-uni @dreadpirateroe @fleurtygurl @ruinmegently @fire-but-ashes-too @feuervogel

#spoilers #cw gore #cw #murder #police violence #cops #writers of tumblr #writeblr #the underlighters #tag game #scifimagpie

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sortofanobsession · 2 years

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To Cry for the Moon Part 13 (Moon Knight x Female Eternal!Reader)

Author's note: This is the longest part so far but I think you will like it. @jupitersmoon167 did and she started the whole thing! So I hope you all enjoy it. There will be a few more parts, so don't think it is over just yet. Stay tuned.

Please do not take, copy, or translate without talking to me first. Reblogs, likes, and comments are encouraged. But anything else please message me first.

Y/N = Your Name. Y/N/N = Your Nickname. Reader pronouns She/Her. Story is 3rd person POV.

Italic text is the reflected alter talking. Bold Italic text is sign language for Makkari.

Tag Requests are Open just message me.

Tagged: @rosaren2498, @yuugenmomo, @faefanatic, @urlocallsimp @assassinsasha23, @queenariesofnarnia, @rmoonstoner, @crypticruler, @animelover18, @philiasoul, @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol, @22carolina08, @preciousbabypeter, @sleepyamaya, @so-done-with-bullshit

Primary Pairing: Steven Grant x Eternal!Reader, Marc Spector x Eternal!Reader, Khonshu x Ma'at!Reader

Content Warning: Mental Illness, Manipulation, Mind control, Death, Violence, Verbal Fighting, Physical Violence, Anger.

Word Count: 4K+

WIP Series Masterlist

Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 14

Part 13: The Battle Begins

Temple of the Gods

The gods had pinpointed the emergence point as soon as the volcano began to rumble. The eye of Horus could see all, making it easy.

"You look better than ever," Osiris told Y/N. Instead of her usual armor, since she hadn't been wearing it when she died, the gods had granted her a brand new set.

"You just want me to show off for you," Y/N grins. She runs her finger along the feather of truth as it is secured in a band around her head, as it often was before they created the scales. "But the feather's a nice touch."

“You are whole again, Ma’at,” Osiris tells her. “And use it to punish those who would condemn so many innocent souls. Show them we gods are not to be underestimated.”

“Oh, I will,” Y/N nods.

Aboard the Domo

Sersi had given Marc and Layla all the details she knew about everything they might be facing as the Eternals get their armor and the UniMind bracelets set. She also tells them as much as she can about Ikaris and his fighting style. Marc had seen it in action once. Thena told them what she knew as well. Druig told them the easiest ways to get Ikaris angry. Only after everyone was suited up did they split into two groups. Sersi, Druig, and Makkari would head to the exact point of emergence and put Tiamut to sleep. Phastos stays to pilot the Domo. Thena would wait at the entrance of the Domo for Ikaris. Marc and Layla would too, but they would stick to the shadows until after the fight began. They were to keep Ikaris distracted at the Domo for as long as possible.

It didn’t take long for Ikaris to show up.

“Where’s Druig?” Ikaris asks.

“He’s busy,” Thena replies, her blade appearing as she does.

“Thena, play nice,” Ikaris warns. “You’ve never had to fight me.” He takes hold of the blade as she swings it.

“But I’ve always wanted to,” Thena says, transforming the blade into an ax to knock his grip loose and back into a sword. She summons her shield, and the two begin to fight. She uses her powers as a shield to block Ikaris’ eye beams. When it seems Ikaris is getting the upper hand, the Moon Knight begins to attack—throwing crescent dart after crescent dart to get Ikaris’ attention off of Thena. Scarlet Scarab makes her way towards the entrance of the Domo, joining in only as it becomes a more hand-to-hand fight.

When none of the other Eternals show up to fight him, and Thena’s armor begins to glow, signaling the use of the UniMind, does Ikaris realize he is wasting time and outnumbered. He resorts to using his eye beams to force them to shield themselves, putting enough space between them that he can get away. He flies from the Domo. Moon Knight and Scarlet Scarab follow suit. Unfortunately, Thena’s connection shows him exactly where the others are, and right as Druig begins to use his powers, Ikaris shoots him down with his eye beams. There are little the others can do as Ikaris flies Druig up and throws him full force down to Earth. Ikaris then uses his eye beams to force Druig deep into the ground. Plan A has failed.

Makkari lets out a heartbreaking wail.

Ikaris then turns his attention to the Domo and uses his eye beams to send it crashing towards the others. Makkari has just enough time to get Sersi out of the way before the Domo crashes. She then goes to retrieve Thena and Phastos from the downed ship. Moon Knight and Scarlet Scarab keep Ikaris occupied as she does.

“Funny, Moon Knight, whatever god gave your ex those wings ripped her technique straight from Y/N’s playbook. No wonder you went back to her so soon after Y/N’s death. Who knew gods were so replaceable,” Ikaris taunts. Again, he uses his eye beams to force them back. He turns his attention back to the other Eternals.

“Druig’s gone,” Ikaris says as he hovers just above the ground, “It’s over.”

Makkari takes advantage of him being at their level and takes out her pain and anger at having watched Druig taken down in an unrelenting attack using her speed to pummel Ikaris. The pair of avatars are awestruck. The speed and force makes them realize Makkari had truly taken it easy on them in Egypt. Makkari could have easily hurt them, but as angry as she was at Marc for breaking Y/N’s heart, her heart was shattered now. Makkari had lost both Y/N and Druig. It filled her with rage and made her virtually unstoppable, especially given that her speed gives her the advantage of avoiding most of the beams from Ikaris’ eyes. As the volcano begins to erupt they all begin having to dodge lava bombs and debris. The try to refocus as best they can. Sersi decides she has to stop the emergence while the others keep Ikaris out of the way. It’s not until Ikaris manages to catch Makkari in the chest with his hand and get a hand around her throat does he get the upper hand. He hits her square in the chest with an eye beam sending her onto her back across the sand. They miss the way Sprite tricks and stabs Sersi. They also fail to notice Druig take Sprite out with a rock and tell Sersi that it is her fight now. The others begin a full assault on Ikaris. Crescent darts, energy blasts, and every projectile the group can summon are sent at Ikaris. They fail to notice Kro emerging from the water intent on revenge. Makkari gets back on her feet to help. They seem to have the advantage until Kro attacks Ikaris. The evolved deviant quickly draws the attention and anger of Thena and Moon Knight. Pastos reminds them that they can’t let Kro absorb any of their powers, even Ikaris’. They all turn their focus on Kro. The onslaught overpowers him and Kro is thrown into a cave. Thena is right behind him. Marc goes to follow but is slowed by Layla.

“Do you really think Y/N would want you to pick fighting that monster over finishing her mission?” Layla asks.

“Killing that thing is my mission,” Marc tells her. “Help me or don’t. I’m going in there.” Marc makes his way into the cave. Layla begrudgingly follows. The Moon Knight mask gives Marc an advantage in the dark. He sticks to the shadows, Layla close behind him.

Temple of the Gods

"Show them who you really are," Osiris says as the path before her opens to the emergence point. Y/N spins the glowing dagger in her grip and nods before taking a running leap and taking to the sky.

Point of Emergence

Again, Ikaris realizes they aren’t all there. He notices Sersi isn’t with them. He goes to find her, but is stopped in his tracks by an unexpected round of projectiles. He turns to see Y/N clad in golden Egyptian armor. Wings glowing as she watches him. The shocked look on his face made her grin.

"You underestimate the gods, Ikaris. You always have," she says, gripping her daggers tight. "Such a pity you never had much faith outside your mission." She sent another wave at him, but he dodged it. "I don't need to feel your heart to condemn you. You never loved humanity. It was always just the mission. No wonder you forgot how to love." His anger hits her in the form of his eye beams in the side. Her new armor was helpful, but she didn't know how long it would hold. He tries to take advantage of her being hit to go stop Sersi, but Phastos traps him midair and drags him to the ground using several anchor points.

The new arrival and fight on the beach remain unnoticed by the group in the cave. Layla and Marc join the fight to help Thena when combat begins. The avatars’ attacks are mostly fended off by Kro’s tentacles and the occasional hit or kick. The pair are hesitant to do much else to keep from harming Thena. They attack full force when the evolved deviant begins to drain her powers. Thena manages to summon blades into her bound hands and uses them to sever the deviants tentacles before attacking Kro’s head and face, killing him. Thena and Marc take satisfaction in watching the glowing remains of the slain deviant fall to the ground.

As Sersi begins to transform Tiamut, Ikaris manages to break free of the trap Phastos had kept him in and goes after Sersi. But Sersi having touched Tiamut makes a connection with the celestial that causes the armor of all the Eternals to glow, not just those with the UniMind bracelets. Even Y/N can feel it. They all are connected to Tiamut. It gives Sersi the power she needs to transform Tiamut. The celestial’s partially exposed head and hand have risen out of the water, but where the celestial’s gold once was is replaced by stone. An unearthly noise can be heard, as Tiamut’s glowing eyes go dark and the massive figure turns to stone, its movement ceasing. The Earth stops shaking as the emergence has officially been stopped. Sersi did it. Tiamut is dead. The planet is saved. They won.

The others can’t see Ikaris crying and apologizing to Sersi, but they do see him fly off into the sky.

As soon as Y/N feet touch the sand, Makkari speeds over and pulls her into a hug. Makkari's hands go to Y/N face before she pulls away.

"You're here. I can't believe you are here. I missed you so much, and they said you were dead, and I couldn't-”

"Kari," Y/N laughs, holding Makkari's hands in her own for a moment before she pulls away to sign. "You are going too fast. I missed you too. Heard you have some precious artifacts that some humans couldn't be trusted with. You'll have to show me."

"I have so many for you," Makkari smiles, but it turns sad when she remembers what happened to Druig. Y/N hugs her and smiles against Makkari’s shoulder when she sees Sersi returning with Druig and Sprite.

She knows when Makkari feels them approaching by the shift in her grip. Y/N carefully extracts herself from Makkari’s grip and smiles. “Go,” Y/N signs. Makkari hurries over to Druig. Their reunion is almost too adorable to watch.

Sersi comes over, and despite the pain in her side, she pulls Y/N into a hug. "You really are here. I was worried it was just an illusion," Sersi says when she pulls back to grip Y/N's face like she had before she died. "What happened? We couldn't find you."

"Hey, don't I get a hug?" Druig says as he and Makkari join them.

"Of course," Y/N moves from Sersi to hug Druig. Groaning and wincing at the pain in her side.

"That bastard got you good too, yeah?" Druig asks.

“Yeah, got me in the same spot the deviant did. I don’t know if he was trying to or if it was dumb luck, but he did.” And before Druig can even look at it, Makkari is already shifting Y/N's armor to get a look. Makkari's eyes go wide, and she disappears only to reappear with something Y/N can barely see, and in rapid-fire succession, she feels the armor give way, the wound wrapped and armor replaced.

"Wow, Thanks, Makkari," Y/N signs. Makkari dusts her hands off and seems proud of her work.

"Better?" Druig asks.

"Much," she says, hugging him again and pulling Makkari in too, earning a few laughs.

"So, do I get my answer now?" Sersi asks. Y/N pulled away, but Makkari drapes her arm around her shoulders, and her hand falls to feel the vibrating beat of Y/N’s heart. She pulls Druig in and does the same. Y/N grins but turns her head to answer Sersi. She was sure they all wanted to know.

"The eye of Horus sees all, everything under the sun and moon. The gods had been set to keep an extra close eye on everything. With the emergence, the Ennead was on high alert. Horus was watching, and Osiris used the feather of truth," Y/N answers. She gestures at the feather in her headband. "It's connected to me, and the god of the Dead knew something was very wrong when the scales began to fail. So instead of just letting whatever happens when we die happen, they stepped in. He used what was still there to bring me back. Granted, he needed help. Anubis always had a role in the transition between worlds, so they patched me up and returned what power the feather still had to me. Took a bit to recover. And we decided not to risk me only having partial powers, so they decided a little touch of my old style was needed. Full power helped get me here in time to help. Though I'm sure you'd have pulled it off without me."

"But we didn't need to," Sersi says. “You’re here.”

"True," she laughs but groans again at the pain. Makkari goes to move, but Y/N puts her hand over hers and squeezes it.

"You good?" Phastos asks. "Took a few nasty hits, and your armor is a bit…"

"Archaic? Ancient?" Y/N grins.

"I was going to say it’s not yours, but that works too."

"Not like I could make a stop at the Domo and change. Time was already a bit limited. And I couldn't let you all save the world without me. I have people I care about here too."

Sersi sees movement behind the others. She was happy to see the trio survived the battle with Kro. She also realized that Y/N had no idea the gods’ avatars were there, and she might not be happy about it.

"What? What's happening?" Y/N saw the shift in Sersi's features.

"Just don't be mad at me, okay?" Sersi says and points past them. Y/N turns around and cannot believe what she is seeing.

"Marc?" Y/N says as she sees Thena leading Moon Knight and another armor-clad individual towards the group. "MARC!"

Marc's pretty sure his heart stops when he hears his name called by a voice he thought he'd never hear again.

"Y/N/N?" He is almost scared to ask. He looks back at Layla to make sure he hasn't lost his mind completely.

"What the hell are you looking at me for?" Layla tells him. "GO!"

Marc takes off in a sprint. Y/N does the same. They practically crash into a desperate bone-crushing hug. Marc pulls back to get a look at her.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, Sersi's request suddenly makes a lot more sense, and she feels a bit angry at her family for letting them join in on the fight.

"What I should have done in London, helping kill that deviant,” Marc states.

"But-"

"They took you from us, did you really think-" but he was cut off as she felt him shift and the familiar feeling of Steven's heart beat before her. She smiles as he grips her face. "You're really here. We haven't died again."

Y/N let out a laugh, ignoring the twinge of pain in her side. "I'm here, Steven," she says as she grips his hands.

"How?" He asks and then takes in her armor. "What are you wearing? Is that-" he is cut off by another laugh. He lets that sound settle deep in his heart and soul. He had missed it.

"The gods. Osiris used the feather of truth to bring me back. It was in the underworld, so it was too far away for me to draw enough power off to help me during the fight. It meant I was a bit weaker, but it also meant when my family thought I was gone for good, the avatars of Osiris and Anubis took me back to the temple and brought me back. Horus' avatar told me I had to focus on healing and wasn't allowed to call anyone. He didn't want them, or you, to have to suffer me possibly dying again. But I'm here. I made it and managed to stab that backstabber Ikaris. But you know if Khonshu had asked Osiris, he would have told him. Even…" She looked at Layla and the armor clicked. "Even Taweret knew." She looked at him, confused. "Steven is…that's Taweret's avatar. I recognize the armor." Steven looked between Y/N and Layla. He shook his head before leaning in and giving Y/N a kiss. He pulled away with some regret. He muttered to Marc, "Sorry, mate. This one is on you."

Y/N looks confused again when they shift, and Marc is back. "Yes, it is, and that's Layla." He knew better than to lie. He'd learned that lesson.

"Layla, as in your ex-wife, Layla?" Y/N goes to take a step back, but he just holds her tighter.

"She insisted on coming to keep me from doing anything stupid like getting myself killed again trying to avenge you. I told you, she and I split on good terms. The initial split wasn't, but we worked it out over saving the world from Ammit. And she watched me die then, but Osiris, Taweret, and Khonshu brought me back. And she became Taweret's avatar."

"Marc I don't…"

"She knows I love you. She knows Steven does too. She's been keeping me busy with missions and telling me I'm not allowed to just self-destruct because that would have pissed you off. She didn't know you, but she knew how we were with you. She-"

He was cut off by her lips meeting his, and he practically melted into it.

"I love you too," Y/N says against his lips, "Both of you."

Marc let out a breathy laugh. "I know. Dane only shouted it at us loudly in our flat, and Sersi kept saying it, but we never thought we'd get to hear you say or that we would get to say it to you."

"Well, you did,” she smiles. “And I will say it every day, for as long as we have."

"You aren't the only one." He kissed her this time. A day or two ago he didn't think he'd get the chance to do this again, so he wasn't going to waste it. He pulled her closer with an arm around her waist. Unfortunately, it put pressure on the spot that Ikaris had hit her. She let out a hiss of pain against his lips.

"What? What happened? Are you hurt?" Marc finally asks. And puts enough space between them that he could look her over. "Shit," he says when he sees the scorched and dented armor.

"It's fine," she says, trying to redirect his gaze back up to her face.

"It really isn't," he says as he tries to get a better look. He starts to move the armor aside, and when that didn't work, he tried to remove it, but she swats his hands away.

"It really is, for two reasons. One, Makkari already patched me up. She is much faster than you. Two, You do not get to undress me in front of my family and your ex-wife. Not happening."

"But Makkari can?" He questioned with a smirk.

"She is a literal blur when she moves. Druig was there, and even he didn't see anything. I barely saw anything."

"Why do I feel like I should be worried about how close you guys are."

"Says the guy running around a tropical island with his ex-wife."

"That's fair," he laughs.

"And once we get back to the Domo, you can check over every scratch and bump the deviant and then Ikaris gave me. Makkari already took care of the worst of what Ikaris did."

"Ikaris," Marc spat the name. "We will tear him apart," he says, looking for said eternal.

"He took the coward's way out," she tells him. "As far as we could tell, he flew towards the sun. Don't know if he's dead or not, but he isn't here."

"Well, if he isn't dead and I see him again, I'm jamming a dart through his stupid laser eye and into his brain for trying to take you away from us again."

"Aww, all for me? Aren't you sweet," she laughs.

"We missed you so damn much," he says, leaning his forehead against hers.

"I missed you too,” she assures him. “Both of you."

"About that, your buddy Druig managed to bring out the other guy. He said his name's Jake Lockley and he's dark."

"How'd he manage that?"

"Doesn't matter," Marc says, but she could feel him hesitate. It wasn't a lie per se, but she felt it.

"Wait, did he drag you into this?" She asked.

"What?" Marc asks before what she asked sinks in. "Oh, no, that was Makkari, but he did get into our head a few times, and he wasn't very happy Layla was around." She looks confused for a moment before she turns around as best she can while Marc refuses to let go.

"Druig!” She shouts as loud as she can. “What the hell did you do that brought out the alter that only comes out if the other two are in mortal danger."

"Nothing!" Druig shouts back.

"Oh, that is a lie!" She yells before softening her tone to address Marc. "Marc, sweetie, can you let me go? I have to go punch Druig."

"Nope," Marc tells her. He just moves closer and carefully pulls her back against his chest and buries his face in her neck. She frowns in confusion.

"Marc…" she starts.

"He showed your lover your death for breaking your heart," Thena tells her.

"He what?!" She shouts. "Druig, I am going to drop you off the top of the Domo! Why would you show him that!"

Druig looks at Makkari and signs, "Run!"

"Don't you run away from me!" She goes to go after him, but Marc pulls her back.

"I don't think so," he chuckles. "I just got you back and there is still the issue if a very angry bird beaked god that is going to demand an explanation. He took it almost as bad as we did. Though I will admit, the silent treatment from Steven was a lot worse than the bird wanting to take over being your justice. He said, 'They will pay for what they have done. I will be her justice'." Marc mocks Khonshu's tone.

"Aww, the big bird said that,” She says, her demeanor softening. “That's probably the sweetest thing he had ever said, and I mean ever."

"Yeah, well, why else do you think he insists on arguing with you,” Marc points out. “He's a manipulative bird brain, but he only sticks around to argue if he thinks it's worth his time to get you to see his point. If he doesn’t respect your opinion he just does it. The fact he fights you means your opinion is important to him. Or do you think he just stalks anyone? You think after centuries you would know that by now." She could feel his smirk against her skin.

"Well, I thought about all three of you when I was dying. You, Steven, and Khonshu. I wanted to see the moon one last time. I even tried to call out for him, but I couldn't. I…"

She felt him shift, and Steven's hand gripped her tighter. "Ok, I won't go into details, but I did feel better knowing you guys were still out there. And that Sersi and the others weren't giving up." She turned back around in his arms and ran her fingers through his hair. "Think we'll still have jobs when we get back?"

Steven shrugs. "Doesn't matter, because I wasn't going to go back again without you. It didn't feel right."

"Oh, Steven, I never wanted to leave you," she tells him.

"I know," Steven states.

"Hey, love birds! We are heading to the ship!" Phastos shouts. "Hurry up!"

"Be right there," she tells him.

"Love birds, is that a bad pun or just a coincidence?" Sersi grins.

"Both."

"We still get to look you over for more injuries, right?" Steven asks.

"Every single inch," she smirks as she pulls away. "You coming or what?"

"Absolutely," Steven grins, hurrying after her and taking her hand in his. "We go where you go."

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