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chaptersleftunwritten · 1 month

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Beauty is a beast that roars

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Blurb: You quietly long for Eddie’s attention, and when things with Chrissy start to look serious you resort to desperate attempts for him to look at you the way he looks at her.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, hurt (no comfort), Eddie is kinda a dick, obsession, hurtful notes being passed, mentions of bulimia/eating disorder, mild stalking, low talk about self image, societal pressure to look a certain way, mental health struggles, characters are 20+ and in a college setting!

divider by @reveriesources

It started as a slow burn inside of your chest. You blamed it on the stress of finals but the more you saw them together, the more that burn worsened into a blaze; scorching your heart and tarring it black.

You didn’t think it possible to be obsessed with someone that you didn’t love- but you worshipped the very ground that Chrissy Cunningham walked on. At times, you thought she was able to read your mind. The way she effortlessly flicks her natural glowing golden hair over her shoulder as she laughs, looking like she was sculpted by Aphrodite herself- or how she presses her perfect rosy lips in peppery and sweet kisses to Eddie’s cheek. She had him wrapped around her skilful fingers. You couldn’t stand it.

It twisted your insides into a rope like knot- so tight and big and uncomfortable. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think straight when you looked at her. At them. Your brain harbouring thoughts of envy, rotting from the inside out with lightless horrid concepts.

You couldn’t help but follow study Chrissy. Her signature blue eyeshadow that adorns her gorgeous blue eyes, her tiny upturned nose, her well proportioned features- her body. You had never repeated this information to anyone before, not even Eddie, because not only would it expose your research into Chrissy, but because you definitely weren’t ever supposed to find out.

You had walked in on her one day in the bathroom. She was hunched over in a stall, her white sneakers peeking out from beneath the cubicle door. She was vomiting. Harshly.

At first you thought she may just be sick, and she was, but it was a different conversation. You entertained that thought until you walked in a second and third time to her in the exact same position- her fatigued body draped over the toilet bowl. You understood how she maintained her physique. It broke your heart; momentarily.

What broke your heart more was that Eddie evidentially had no idea. You knew, deep down, Chrissy was just like you. A sad, broken girl. But she was better at hiding it. The Duchess of disguise. The Queen of your psyche. Your admiration of her was unhealthy, you knew that much. You just couldn’t stop. You needed Eddie to look at you the way he looks at her.

So you cut your hair into a fringe, and you change your clothes. You find your own signature colour of eyeshadow and you even purchase a few skater skirts. Sports had never really interested you until now; now you were trying out for the cheerleading team. And with being Chrissy’s friend- of course she gave you direct entry.

Because despite her beauty, Chrissy was also kind. Which made the knot in your stomach grow firmer, imbedding itself within you permanently.

“Hey, Eddie!” You make sure your voice is dripping with the sweetest form of honey as you bat your mascara thick eyelashes at him. He glances at you from his magazine, quirking a brow at your chirpy energy.

“Hello… What’s up?” He asks, his words clipped as his eyes focus back on the flimsy book he holds sturdily in his hands. God… his hands. The rings that compliment his slender fingers and the bracelets that dress his wrist. You couldn’t get enough of it- of him.

It was impossible for you to hold his attention for more than a few seconds, and you had bound into the library full of hope and partial confidence today. You had pieced together one of your best outfit. A denim jacket draped over your shoulders, a white tank top (with no bra) and a cute skirt in your favourite colour which also matched your eyeshadow. Your hair was in a voluminous pony tail, held up by a great big scrunchie and your eyes were bright with popping colour. Your cheeks were dusted with blush and your nails painted perfectly; with the help of your mother.

You couldn’t think of a reason why Eddie wouldn’t look at you. You looked totally bitchin’!

“Uhm…” you stutter, your small confidence wavering at his lack of interest, “We haven’t really hung out in a while… I thought maybe we could? If you like!” There is a festering in the pit of your stomach, a panic that grows with every anticipating second, “We don’t really hang out anymore... just us, I mean.” You add, hoping further context will make you sound a little less desperate.

You and Eddie used to hang out every day. Sometimes alone, sometimes with the whole group. But lately… things have changed. And you know the reason why.

Eddie acknowledged you with a hum, finally placing his magazine down and narrowing in on your appearance. You thought you wanted him to look at you, but the intense confusion on his face made you long for the earth to gape open beneath you and swallow you whole.

“Looks like ya did a deep dive through Chrissy’s wardrobe.” His chuckle makes your ears heat and your face flush as his fingertips pluck at the sheer scrunchie wrapped in your hair. You can’t tell if he is joking or not— but to you, it’s a compliment nonetheless.

After a moment of pause and total excitement you gather your composure quickly and cough a meek reply, “I’m trying something new.”

You’re trying to be someone new.

“Hmm,” He examines you further, “I dunno,” Eddie scratches at his chin, his once soft and playful features now express something more distasteful, “I personally prefer your old style— this seems… out of character.” There was a lilt to his deep voice, which made him sound interrogative.

“You.. you do?” You curse inwardly at the stutter in your airy voice. To say his words shocked you was an understatement. They had your jaw hanging loose and your eyes opened broadly. Had you gotten it all wrong? Were you really just as pretty before all of this? Or was he teasing you… was he trying to make you feel better? Was this his attempt at telling you that you look like an utter clown in comparison to Chrissy?

You’d never know… because you would never ever ask him such things.

You think back to a note that got passed to you in class not too long ago- you weren’t sure of the culprit (you suspected Jason) — it read along the lines of,

‘Apply all the makeup you want, but at the end of the day it’s just lipstick on a pig.’

Were you a pig? Was this all just a feeble and comical attempt at beauty? To be desired. To be wanted. It’s all you longed for. It’s all you dreamed of.

You wanted Eddie to see you. To want you. And at this rate, you were losing all hope.

“Yeah,” alongside a small laugh he also flashes you a toothy smile, a mocking smile— and you clamp your jaw closed to stop yourself from shaking out a sob, “Listen, you’re free to chill here with me if you want but— hey!”

You couldn’t take it. The embarrassment. The knife twisting in your chest and puncturing your heart. You flee from the table abruptly before Eddie even has a chance to say anything more to you.

What was wrong with you? You wanted his attention, you wanted him alone and when you got it you despised the humorous way he gazed at you. You didn’t want to be entertaining or funny— you wanted to be loved.

Loved by him.

To please him.

To make him proud…

On exiting the library you pass Chrissy who was entering through the heavy fire doors, clearly she is on her way to meet Eddie. It was uncanny, almost like looking into a mirror.

The blonde spares you a small smile but not without a worried and intrigued glance at your attire before she is muttering a quick ‘Hello’ which you don’t even bother to return. You are too focused on your pursuit to the bathroom where you can hide yourself in an empty stall and cry without judgement. The only issue? You didn’t bring any makeup wipes for the mascara that has plagued your face in splotches and streaks of black tears.

Your eyes sting furiously and your bottom lip quivers outwith your control. It’s hard to believe that you have allowed yourself to stoop this low, crying shamelessly on campus in front of your peers. Their sympathetic eyes and taunting grins don’t go unnoticed by you as you finally make it to the bathroom, bursting into the void room like a bat out of Hell. Slamming the cubicle door closed and sitting on the toilet bowl where you start to question reality.

What are you doing?

You despise the fact that you know, no matter what, no matter how stupid you look- how ridiculous your clothes are and your sorry attempts at looking pretty, you would continue to do it. Even if people stared, gawked, whistled, laughed… you would continue on this descent into madness. The chase of perfection. The downward spiral of your mind had only just begun and you had a far distance yet to fall.

Whilst classes had finished for a long weekend and everyone was outdoors enjoying what was left of the sun before Fall crept its way in, you were sat in front of your bathroom mirror.

Pulling, pinching, tweezing, twisting, sucking, shaving, grabbing and crying.

God, you couldn’t stop crying.

You couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t cry.

To you, winter was already here. You were chilled to the bone, hollow in your chest. Insides were sunken. You felt vacant of any joy.

“Honey!!” Your mother yells suddenly from the bottom of the staircase, her voice is cloud like and warm, “Someone is here to see you!” There is a mutter of something inaudible, “Chrissy!” She confirms snippily and your face drops heavily into a worried frown.

“I’m in the shower!!” You shriek back dishonestly and you are reminded that you have a heart as it shudders inside of your chest. You aren’t ready to see her— you don’t have a lick of makeup on, your hair isn’t done and you are still wrapped up in your bath towel.

Your first thought is how do you get rid of her? How do you lie your way out of this?

You couldn’t.

“Okay, she’ll be waiting down here for you then…” Your mother’s voice dies out and you can hear her offering Chrissy something to drink and eat; which Chrissy declines.

You move around your bedroom agilely, hustling to get as presentable as you possibly could to face the girl waiting downstairs for you. It doesn’t quite register that Chrissy is sitting with your mother, chatting and possibly gossiping. All you care about is getting some makeup slapped on your face and some nice clothes hugging your body.

Your hair can be brushed, but you don’t have time to style it— that’ll have to come later. After multiple a few sprays of your favourite perfume that smells like vanilla and a tinge of cedar wood you feel ready enough to leave your sanctuary.

Nearly tripping over your entire wardrobe that covers your bedroom floor you fly toward the door handle, bracing yourself at the top of the staircase before you descend.

Time to meet your maker.

Your intense gaze flicks hurriedly between your mother and Chrissy as they both stand to meet you as you enter into the lounge room. Chrissy’s hair is twirled and curled to perfection and a short pink summer dress embraces her small frame. On her feet is a pair of red Mary Jane heels and you catch a peek at the silver jewellery strung around her neck and her wrists.

“Hi,” you say, feeling like it is the first breath you take since entering the room.

Chrissy bounds over to you, stringing her arms around your shoulders and pulling you in for a quick but sweet hug, “Hi!” She giggles in a sing song tone before pulling away, “You smell amazing by the way! You’ll have to let me know what that is later!” Her fingers linger on the exposed skin of your bicep and you cringe away from her touch.

“Thanks,” Your mother has long left the room and you walk a few paces away from Chrissy.

“We were heading to the movies, you wanna join? It’s meant to be such a warm night tonight!” To your disadvantage Chrissy follows behind you closely, closing the distance you were trying to create between the both of you, “The whole group will be there! Plus, it’s a thriller which I know you love.” She winks at you and you hate that you can feel your lips curving up into a minuscule smile.

“I dunno, Chris.” Your hand palms at the back of your neck, you feel hot with discomfort and to be quite frank all you want to do is lay in bed and mope.

“Please!” She clasps her hands together, inching closer to you— if that were even possible, “I’ll even buy your ticket!” Her pillowy bottom lip pouts out slightly, “I just wanna hang out with you, it’s been so long.”

And she was right. It had been a long time. You had been so swept up in this horrible pursuit of yours that you forgot you were actually friends with Chrissy. Long before you even knew of Eddie’s existence.

A defeated sigh leaves through your nostrils and you raise your shoulders to your ears, “Fine.” You smile, a smile that feels the most genuine it has in weeks.

Chrissy squeals with excitement, jumping up and down on the spot before taking your hand into hers. Interlocking your fingers so she can make sure you don’t make a run for it, “Let’s go, tiger!”

You all find your seats quickly, settling into them with your snacks and beverages. You partially regret not getting a drink but you decide that you’ll be able to soldier through. It’s what you do.

It was no surprise to you that Eddie was there too, but you couldn’t help but panic at the sight of him waiting for you and Chrissy to arrive at the theatre. His tatted arms crossed comfortably over his chest and a love filled smile teasing at his lips as Chrissy trotted over to him, practically jumping into his arms for a hug.

You fell behind them, ensuring you left as much distance as you possibly could. The sight of Eddie alone was enough to send you tumbling into a frenzy of inky feelings.

You could smell Eddie’s cheap cologne mixed with a hint of powerful weed and for a moment it clouds your senses. Taking hold of everything you knew— past, present, future. You couldn’t think about any of it, not with his scent engulfing your nostrils like second hand smoke.

Once the group had settled into the dimly lit theatre you sink into your seat behind Eddie and Chrissy, your shoulders slumping as you wish for the seat to turn into some sort of magical trap door that will transport you to another universe. But of course, you could never be so lucky.

The movie begins with a deafening introduction and you wince at the sound, your finger tips brushing over your ears gently to make sure that they hadn’t been blown off of the side of your head.

Steve occupies the seat next to you, and Robin is next to him with Vickie. You had grown to quite enjoy Vickie’s company. You loved how happy Robin got when she was in touchable reach… you pined for a connection like that.

Normally, you would be in your element as you watched a thriller movie, but something in front of you proved to be far more interesting.

Eddie and Chrissy were whispering sweet nothing into one another’s ear, Chrissy giggling and blushing at whatever it was that Eddie had said— probably something dirty and ridiculous.

And you could handle that. You could endure that.

But what you couldn’t take was watching as their tongues battled it out in a sloppy and erotic kiss. Chrissy had asked you to come and see this film— was it all a rouse just so she could show you who Eddie truly belongs too? So she could dismiss your attempts and break your heart further?

Unbeknownst to you, Steve had clocked the expression on your face. Tears glossing over your eyes, your front teeth gnawing on your bottom lip to try and contain whatever this was that you were feeling— but most importantly, he noticed the newfound stiffness in your body. He could feel you going rigid next to him.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice is low and kind and you should have paid more attention to his attentiveness but you don’t.

“I need to use the bathroom.” Is all you reply before lugging all of your stuff loosely and lazily into your arms and bolting for the theatre isle, but not without earning a few confused looks from Robin.

You bypass the restrooms, your eyes focused on the colossal glass doors which would separate you from Eddie and Chrissy officially.

The humid air hits your skin in an agonising envelop of warmth and you pull your sleeve over the palm of your hand to rub against your soaked cheeks.

Your chest feels heavy with every shaking intake of breath that you manage to pull into your lungs. You are heaving, gasping for air as you sob into the thick material of your sweater.

The sound of passing cars hits your ears and you slightly angle yourself away from the access road connecting the theatre to other public establishments. The images of Chrissy tongue down Eddie’s throat plays over and over in your mind— you don’t even know what the film was about because you were so hyper focused on them.

Your skin feels as though it doesn’t fit right over your skeleton and you grab at the material of your skirt, fisting the fabric as you try to ground your raging emotions.

You catch a whiff of theatre food and it causes bile to raise up the back of your throat, vomit threatening to project from your mouth.

People pass you by, their out of context conversations entering one of your ears and leaving the other. You felt so overstimulated— so riddled with anxiety that your brain hadn’t had space to even register Steve’s hand on your shoulder.

But when you do, you flinch away from him, taken aback by the horror stricken look on his soft features, “Hey… what’s going on?” His voice is low, a whisper as he tries to contain the situation between the two of you. Not wanting whatever this is to spill into the public.

You shake your head, your strong walls flagging up, “Nothing,” you dismiss him, “That movie was just… really scary..” you lie through your teeth and your watery eyes betray your words as tears continue to stream down your flushed skin.

“Bullshit.” He spits, his eyes turning to slits as he inches in closer to you, “Tell me what’s wrong right now.” His thick eyebrows have furrowed deeply on his forehead and you continue to deny him of any information.

“Steve— I’m fine! That movie was scary, I’m scared! That’s all… and.. and I needed some fresh air.” You shrug your shoulders, hoping that the messy headed man would leave it at that but he replies to your dishonesty with a discontent shake of his head.

“You’re fucking lying. Why are you lying to me?” He is so close to you now that you can feel his breath fanning onto your face, “We’re friends, right?” He cocks his head slightly to the right, his eyes becoming a bit more gentle, “Right?”

“Yes!” You respond instantly, “Of course we are friends-“

“Then tell me what’s going on! What is all of this about!” He gestures to your face, but his eyes scan across your body as well. He wants to know the whole truth, and you aren’t going to give it to him.

“I just told you!” You try not to yell, and thankfully your despair is doing a good job at strangling your voice, “I needed air—“ Steve cuts you off.

“Stop it. Stop it now.” He takes a hold of your arm, hurrying you away from the movie theatre entrance, “Just tell me. Whatever it is, I can help! I can help, okay? There’s nothing too big.” You stare into his honey suckle eyes, seeing your owe reflection staring back at you. It causes your stomach to flip with disgust.

“Why can’t you just let this go? I’m fine, Steve! I’m fucking fine! I just wanted air because I felt sick and you’re causing a scene!” You’re yelling now, your once sadness provoked tears turning to anger.

“I’m causing the scene? You’re the one lying to me and busting my balls! I just want to help you!” He takes a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone, I’m fine on my own. I can take care of myself— you don’t get it! You’ll never get it, Harrington!” You jab at his chest, your body shaking with adrenaline.

“Harrington? Wow, okay. Something is definitely bothering you because you only ever call me that when you are really fucking pissed and I know I haven’t angered you this much so just tell me.” He circles you like a shark in murky water and you flee from him, needing some breathing space.

“Tell me!” He demands, charging after you.

You swing around to face him, your entire body feeling as though it’s going to combust.

“You wanna know, Steve? You really wanna fucking know?!” You march toward him, stopping a few paces away from his large frame.

“I’m in love with Eddie!” Your voice is an unattractive squeak, “Is that what you want to know, Steve? Are you fucking happy now?” You’re trembling now— a mix of rage, melancholy and dread.

“I am in love with someone who will never love me back. I… I have tried so hard to win him over.” You pluck at your t-shirt, scoffing at the silliness of it all, “I tried to change everything about me. I tried to be the one he would want but he doesn’t want me. He’ll never fucking want me, Steve.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, a form of defensiveness, “I’ll always be second best— no.” A moment of ugly realisation hits you, “I’m not even on his list. I’m not even a back up option to him. I’m a nobody. I can’t compete— I can’t compare.”

You’re a mess now. Smudged eyeliner. Smeared lipstick. You are a museum of failed art.

“I am in love with Eddie Munson and he doesn’t even know who I am.”

You try to lessen the blow of your own words with a tight lipped teary smile and a shrug of your shoulders… but whatever was left of your bruised heart was now torn to shreds. Unfixable. Unlovable.

“No one wants me.”

Through your distorted vision you hadn’t even noticed the tears pricking at Steve’s own eyes as he watched you fall to pieces in front of him.

Gently he brings you to lay flat against his chest, one of his hands rest tenderly against your hair whilst the other it draped over your shoulders.

He doesn’t say anything. He just holds you silently and allows you to sob into his broad chest— your makeup destroying his pristine white shirt.

A few moments of the embrace pass and that’s when you hear a muted voice from behind Steve’s large frame. A voice you had hoped to not hear— a voice that belonged to someone you had prayed would never ever hear you confess what you just had. A voice that was laced with what you could only pinpoint as malice and repulsion.

Eddie.

“What.. the fuck?”

And as Steve’s body tensed against yours, you blinked away the last of your tears and accepted your fate.

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers

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sansaorgana · 1 month

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— SISTER'S CHOICE

BROKEN OATH (AU)

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Princess Elaena Targaryen (OC)

SUMMARY — You manage to escape Oldtown after fifteen years of marriage to Ser Gwayne Hightower in order to join your sister Rhaenyra in the upcoming war. Despite the oath given to Rhaenyra, you struggle to be away from your husband and children. Things complicate when you meet Gwayne in the battlefield.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written from the Reader’s perspective but she is a Targaryen and Rhaenyra's younger sister. I did not describe any of her body or face features except for that she has silver hair, lilac eyes and her name is Elaena. The story is quite long already so I haven't described the beginnings of Reader/Elaena with Gwayne or her childhood – you can find them in the "Broken Oath" fanfic (link above), which is an AU of this one (or this one is an AU of "Broken Oath" 🙈). Canon events are treated very loosely here for the purpose of the plot (Rook's Rest for example).

WARNINGS — Reader/Elaena is responsible for the deaths in the battlefield & if you're Team Black you might be unhappy about the ending (+ I don't like Daemon and it shows, sorry)

WORD COUNT — 9,930 (💀)

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

SISTER'S CHOICE

It was quite a long trip from Oldtown to Dragonstone but you hadn’t made any stops and now both you and your dragon were exhausted. The sun was slowly rising when you arrived but you had a weird feeling deep in your guts – some sort of anxiety – before seeing your sister after fifteen years. How would you even greet her now? What would you say? That fear alone was stopping you from landing.

Eventually, you spotted a few people looking out for you from the castle. They had to be wondering what were you doing, circling around Dragonstone without clear intentions. After spotting your sister’s long silver hair in the wind, you decided to order Onyx to land on the sandy beach and you waited for someone to come out and greet you.

Sighing, you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. It felt so odd to be out of Oldtown – you hadn’t left it in fifteen years. Not even once. You had grown so used to it that you nearly missed it now. You certainly missed your children. They had to slowly wake up now and you wondered what your husband would tell them about your sudden absence.

Would they understand? Would they grow up to hate you? They were only children, you couldn’t expect them to comprehend the complicated situation of the upcoming war, the delicacy of your family’s relations. And what kind of mother abandoned her children like that? Perhaps it was true what they were saying about The Targaryens – just like dragons they rode, they were difficult to tame. Even an obedient and dutiful Princess like you still had fire and blood running through her veins.

Finally, you spotted your sister and a few of her guards walking towards you. You took off the hood of your cloak and petted nervous Onyx to calm her down.

“Sister,” Rhaenyra greeted you and you hurried to her side, leaving your dragon behind you. You gave her an anxious smile as your eyes scanned hers carefully.

She had grown older those past fifteen years but you couldn’t help a feeling that she had grown sadder, too. Either way, she was still your sister but also your Queen now.

“You came, Elaena,” Rhaenyra smiled at you nervously.

“My Queen,” you bowed down and the hood of your cloak fell onto your head again. Rhaenyra chuckled at that and approached you to fix it.

“It is green,” she pointed out while caressing the fabric of your cloak when you two were face-to-face now. Then, her fingers moved down to the golden clasp, which was The Hightower emblem.

“Forgive me,” you unclasped the cloak and let it fall down on the sand. “I am here now, by my sister’s side,” you told her.

“Come, we’ll make space for Onyx in the dragonpit,” Rhaenyra smiled at your dragon and tilted her head a little. “She’s as big as Caraxes now, do you know?”

You were surprised. You had no idea that your young and small dragon had grown so big. It was also unexpected that it had happened in Oldtown where Onyx had been alone and you had not been flying on her often either. She had been spoiled with sheep and your affection but that would be it, really. Other than that, she had been pretty bored there.

“I am glad,” you smiled at your sister. You wanted to take her by her arm but something was stopping you – some invisible barrier between you two and it was not because she was The Queen, no.

She had always been your father’s heir to you anyway. You had gotten used to the fact that Rhaenyra was your superior. The barrier was caused by the fifteen years apart. Despite knowing it was your sister, despite sharing the same blood, the same silver hair, the same lilac eyes – it was a stranger walking down the beach with you.

“Why did you come?” Rhaenyra asked, genuinely. The guards left you behind and watched Onyx fly up again to rest in the dragonpit after the long journey.

“You need dragons and dragonriders in the upcoming war with Aegon,” you answered, a little surprised as if you couldn’t understand why she had even asked that. It was obvious, after all.

“You loved him when he was a babe, did you not?” Rhaenyra smiled gently.

“I love him still, just like I love you – and to you I have sworn my loyalty,” you answered.

“Haven’t you sworn it to your husband, too, on your wedding day?” She kept inquiring and you grew uncomfortable with that. You didn’t want her to mention Gwayne because you were trying your hardest not to think of him.

“Are you suspecting I might be my father-in-law’s spy?” You suddenly turned your head around to look deep into her eyes. “If so, you hurt me deeply.”

“I would never suspect that!” Rhaenyra gasped and held your wrist to squeeze it assuringly. “You have been telling me in your letters that your marriage is a good one, that you love your children dearly. And now you are here, with me,” she pointed out.

“The war is coming,” you only shook your head.

Hadn’t she been expecting you to come and join her? In her letter, you had read that between the lines and now she was shocked to see you? When she had been asking for your loyalty and for remembering your oath… What had she been exactly expecting?

However, you had no opportunity to continue this conversation because you reached the castle and your uncle Daemon was waiting there with a very unpleasant expression on his face.

At first, your heart swelled in your chest at the sight of him. You wanted to run up to him and greet him like back in the old days when you had been a young girl and he would bounce you on his knee. But you froze at the sight of him eyeing you up and down as if you were an intruder.

“What does she want?” He asked Rhaenyra and you swallowed thickly at that tone of his voice.

“She is my sister, Daemon. She came to support me,” Rhaenyra explained.

“And you believe her?” Daemon whispered but you could hear him perfectly well.

“I can hear you, Uncle,” you nodded at him and he shot you a cold glance.

“That is King Consort to you. We don’t trust Hightower cunts here,” he drawled out.

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra scolded him and you were standing there, petrified.

You were not used to being treated this way. In Oldtown you were a Lady of the town – every man was bowing his head at you, they were showing you nothing but respect and your own Lord Husband would challenge Daemon this very moment if he had heard or seen the way you were treated.

But your Lord Husband was not here because you had abandoned him to join your sister. Your sister – not Daemon. So, you held your head high and clenched your jaw at him.

“I am Princess Elaena Targaryen,” you introduced yourself to him in case he had somehow forgotten. “Lady Hightower, to you, dear Uncle. Lady of Oldtown,” you added even though the last title was not technically yours yet as long as your father-in-law was alive but you had been ruling the city in his name alongside your husband for fifteen years now and everyone called you that.

Daemon, however, found your titles somehow funny. He chuckled at you.

“Onyx has grown, Daemon,” Rhaenyra informed him. There was a hint of harshness in her voice that made shivers go down your spine. Something deeply disturbing was going on between them and you had a feeling her marriage was not as wonderful as she had been describing it to you in her letters. “She’s as big as Caraxes now,” she added.

“But not as experienced,” Daemon dismissed that and laid his eyes on you again. He squinted them and looked you up and down before speaking to you again eventually. “Well, come in, Elaena. We are not in a position to refuse any dragonriders,” he said and turned around to walk away.

You looked at Rhaenyra, questioningly.

“Forgive him, he is nervous about the war and we have also lost our child recently… Our baby girl was born dead,” she sighed and caressed your arm.

“I am so sorry to hear that,” you whispered and gave her a hug. “Still, that gives him no right to speak to you in such a manner. You are his Queen, but, most importantly, his Lady Wife,” you explained. “Such manners are shocking to me.”

“It makes me glad,” Rhaenyra answered mysteriously and you furrowed your brow, “for it means that you had never experienced such treatment from your husband.”

You were given your own chambers in the part of the castle reserved for the royal family and you knew that it was the highest standard for Dragonstone but you missed your chambers in Oldtown dearly. The comfort was incomparable… The Hightower was cosier and warmer – it was full of wood and colours instead of the cold, grey stone. The Reach was warmer overall and the sound of the waves was soothing there, meanwhile in Dragonstone the stormy weather was keeping you up all night.

Not just the sound of the raging sea but also thoughts of your family. Each evening you were crying yourself to sleep, imagining the bedtime of your children, remembering all the rituals Gwayne was doing before going to sleep and you missed them dearly. You especially missed laying in your bed together and discussing your day – trying to work out some problems around Oldtown or with your children… Sometimes gossipping together. And now, you were squeezing your pillow tight and trying to communicate with your husband telepathically. Yet, you still had no idea what you would tell him if it was possible.

He hadn’t written you any letter and you couldn’t blame him since you left Oldtown without even a note on his desk. Yet, each time there were new letters coming to Dragonstone, you were expecting to see the familiar green envelope and your husband’s handwriting; begging you to come back. Gwayne, however, had his pride and you couldn’t be sad or angry about it now because you had always admired him for it.

Seeing Rhaenyra’s relationship with Daemon was only making you miss Gwayne more. He was a Lord Husband that so many women could only dream of – even The Queen of The Seven Kingdoms, apparently.

Daemon was not the only person treating you with a hint of mistrust. Your aunt Princess Rhaenys was by your side but even young Jacaerys was staring at you without a word most of the time even though you had been playing with him and bouncing him on your knee when he had been a babe.

It was not easy to get used to all of this – the coldness and emptiness of your chambers, the treatment of others. From the beloved Lady of Oldtown to a mistrusted Princess, a prodigal sister.

Your loyalty and surname that had been given to you through marriage was being brought up regularly, mostly by Daemon – especially during dinnertime or supper.

“It was not my choice to marry a Hightower and even if it was… I married Gwayne fifteen years ago. No one could have suspected this war…” You rolled your eyes at one more remark by the dinner table.

“Don’t be naive, Elaena!” Daemon snapped. “Everyone has suspected. That was the very reason why Otto Hightower sent you to his son in Oldtown.”

You didn’t answer and you felt the eyes of everyone staring at you and expecting some sort of remark. Daemon smirked at your silence, feeling like the winner.

“I am not used to being yelled at and treated in such a way. And I am certainly not used to dinnertime being a battle between the family members,” you stated calmly.

“Go back to Oldtown then,” Daemon scoffed. “If you find it so insufferable here, then go back to your husband. Do you think he is going to greet you with open arms after such betrayal?” He laughed and shook his head while taking a sip of the wine. “He is going to greet you with his sword instead, Princess,” he mocked your title and you swallowed your food thickly, feeling your stomach turning upside down.

Daemon had only voiced out the anxiety that you had been having for some time now – that Gwayne did not miss you at all. That he did not feel nothing but anger at you and that he would kill you at the very first opportunity. After all, you had hurt his pride and you had stained his honour and these things mattered to him more than anything else – except for your children, of course.

Your marriage had been good but it didn’t change the fact it was an arranged union and not a love match. Sometimes, though… Sometimes, laying in your bed, here, in Dragonstone, tossing and turning, you were quite sure that you had grown to love him, which was quite ironic to have such thoughts now when you had already ruined everything between you two. But you were sure he was not having the same thoughts about you anyway.

“My sister is more than welcome here,” Rhaenyra gave her husband a scolding look and squeezed your hand. You smiled at her, gratefully.

But the thing with Rhaenyra was that despite being The Queen, no one really seemed to care about it. No one except for you, Rhaenys and Daemon’s daughters. All the men, though, were still doing everything their own way. And Rhaenyra herself could not find any solution to deal with that, which made you wonder if she would really be a good Queen…

Not that you had ever voiced that out for it would be treason. You loved your sister and you were obliged to serve her because of the oath you had sworn. But still, you sometimes couldn’t help feeling that she was not a strong leader. On the other hand, it was not that surprising because she had no real experience in such matters and when things had gotten difficult in King’s Landing, she had fled to Dragonstone instead of staying in The Red Keep and learning how to be a good ruler.

The death of Lucerys had shaken everyone. The very first victim of the conflict being such a young and innocent boy… You were speechless and you had no words of comfort to offer. You were a mother, too, and you just couldn’t imagine what Rhaenyra had to feel.

You locked yourself in your chambers instead and spent your whole day staring at the small portrait you had taken with yourself from Oldtown. It was a portrait in the size of a locket and it was of your own four children – twelve years old Steffon Hightower with silver hair and lilac eyes standing next to his nine years old brother Loras Hightower who was a copy of his father with his auburn hair and blue eyes. The girls were sitting on the carpet – six years old Lysa Hightower with her father’s auburn hair and your lilac eyes and three years old Roslin Hightower with silver hair and blue eyes. You felt the warm tears streaming down your cheeks and all you really wanted was to hold them and make sure they were alright.

Sometimes you regretted your decision to flee from Oldtown. Perhaps you should have been an obedient and loyal wife like your mother had always been teaching you to be. It would save you lots of trouble.

Fifteen years earlier, before your departure to marry Gwayne, Rhaenyra had confessed to you that she had wished to be more like you – less rebellious, less stubborn. Meanwhile, you had always wished to be more like her and now you kind of were but you finally understood the price for it, too.

It was Princess Rhaenys that came to your chambers on that day. She sighed at the sight of you and approached you with a soft smile. She took the small portrait from your hands and took a look at the faces of your children.

“How accurate is it?” She asked.

“Very,” you sniffled your tears back. “I sleep with it under my pillow every night. And by day, I have them close to my heart,” you confessed.

“They’re very beautiful children,” Rhaenys sat next to you on the edge of your bed and handed you the portrait back. “What are they like?”

You knew she was trying to help you. She wanted you to talk about your children and let out all the tears that no one else in the castle would want to see now. Not even Rhaenyra because she was grieving her own loss. Meanwhile, your children were safe and sound in Oldtown but your heart was in grief anyway. You were grateful that your aunt wanted to hear about them because you felt like it was expected from you to not express any feelings towards The Hightowers, Oldtown, your husband or your offspring at all. Each display of affection or a hint of the fact that you were missing them was perceived as an act of treason.

You had sacrificed so much for them but no one seemed to understand the significance of it. No one except for Rhaenys and Rhaenyra but they were only two and against many.

“You would like Steffon the most, I think,” you caressed his little face on your portrait. “A true Targaryen, look at him. And he is so…” you chuckled through the tears. “So brave and bold. He’s going to be a knight like his father and, somehow, I have a feeling he’s going to be a dragonrider, too. I don’t know how but he’s determined enough to claim one,” you assured her. “And then there’s Loras…” Your fingers moved to your second son. “He inherited all the kindness and goodness and gentleness from Gwayne. From me, too, I assume. There is not a mean bone in his body. And my girls…” You moved your hand down and sighed. “That is Lysa, the one with auburn hair. And the little one with silver hair is Roslin. They… They were spending their whole days following me around and clinging to my skirts… I have no idea how they are managing now…” You sobbed and hid your face in your hands.

Rhaenys put her arm around you and pulled you closer as she rubbed your back to soothe you. She leaned in to kiss your temple.

“Their mother is strong and brave. She is righteous,” she whispered. “One day, they will understand it and forgive you. You had this calling in you, the calling to join your sister for you are a Targaryen, you are a dragonrider. We are never only mothers and wives and proper ladies. We are wild creatures, Elaena. Just like our dragons,” she lifted your chin up, forcing you to look into her eyes.

“I thought of taking them with me but… But they’re safer in Oldtown, far away from here. And Gwayne… Well, he would hunt me down and kill me for that, I am sure. He is a devoted father,” you tried to explain yourself but no matter how much you were doing so, you still felt like a terrible mother.

“You were right to leave them with him then,” Rhaenys caressed your arms. “Your husband will protect them and of that you are sure, I can see. They are safe there.”

“When this war ends, when we win…” Your lower lip trembled. “I will be allowed to reunite with my family, right? Rhaenyra will allow me?” You asked, a little unsurely.

“I am rather convinced that after we win this war, you are going to remain the Lady of Oldtown,” Rhaenys nodded and kissed your forehead. “You’re going to raise your children there and watch them grow happily.”

“And… And my Lord Husband?” You sniffled, while Rhaenys tilted her head. “I mean… He has to die, right?”

“I highly doubt Daemon would allow it any other way,” Rhaenys told you.

“Whatever he might be saying, he is not The King,” you reminded her.

“That decision will not be Rhaenyra’s to make. Daemon and Gwayne will most likely meet on the battlefield sooner or later,” your aunt reminded you and fixed your hair delicately. “You must think of your husband as dead from now on if you want to survive this,” she added and stood up to leave your chambers.

You knew that she had meant that with the best intentions but it only made you sob even more. You took another look at the portrait of your children and your heart squeezed in your chest. What was giving you a guarantee that Daemon would not hurt your babies, too? He seemed to be filled with an ugly desire to wipe all Hightowers out from this world.

Weeks had passed and you had grown colder and sharper lately. Daemon was not around any longer for he had left for Harrenhal, which was helpful, but if he was still in Dragonstone, you would surely be ready to confront him each time now. You were confronting everyone else whenever they doubted you and on multiple occasions you had confronted them to defend your sister, too.

You still missed your family but all those lonely nights had made you turn pretty heartless sometimes. All those suppressed feelings and regrets had made you a woman who was holding her head high and who was more and more sure of her skills. You were flying Onyx every day now to strengthen your bond even more and it was giving you lots of confidence.

Despite the fondness you still felt towards your marriage, you knew aunt Rhaenys had been right and the marriage was over now. You also realised how much you had missed out in those past fifteen years. You had been living more like a Hightower than a Targaryen. Your husband was a good and kind man but still – he had been trying to tame the dragon blood inside of you. You had not been riding Onyx enough and your High Valyrian had become rusty. Now you were finding your old self back again and all the pain you were feeling because of missing your children only fueled you to be even colder and sharper towards all of those who were doubting you.

When you entered the hall where the council was gathered, everyone nodded their heads at you and you didn’t even bother to nod back. As the Lady of Oldtown you had been respected but you had always been kind in return, too. In Dragonstone everything seemed to be turned upside down.

But why would Princess Elaena Targaryen bow down to any of these men inside the castle that had belonged to her ancestors for centuries now? It was your home – perhaps not in the same domesticated way as The Hightower but Dragonstone was your blood’s home and you would not bow down to anyone inside of it except for the monarch.

The only person you bowed at was of course Rhaenyra herself – your Queen, your sister. Not a perfect Queen and only slightly better sister but you had sworn to her and you valued honour just like your Lord Husband did.

“The battle is coming,” she explained to you as she pointed at the table with the map of Westeros because you were late to the gathering after flying on Onyx for a little too long this evening. “Tomorrow, the armies will clash around Rook’s Rest,” she added and pointed at the place.

“That is close,” you tilted your head. “But the castle has no significance to us, does it?”

“We have already lost enough and we cannot lose more!” one of the Lords protested. “It’s about our honour, my Princess.”

“I want to send a dragon,” Rhaenyra moved one of the stone dragons on the map to put it alongside the Black Army. “I do not intend to use it in battle. No burning, no crushing. I do not wish to be remembered as the first side of this conflict who used a dragon to kill her enemies because once we use them as weapons, the destruction from both sides will be unstoppable,” she explained and the Lords from her council sighed and rolled their eyes.

Those foolish, non-Targaryen men really wanted Rhaenyra’s dragons to cause slaughter, not understanding the possible consequences.

“The dragon will be there to patrol the battlefield – it will be there just in case the Greens send their own, too. And it will be there to intimidate the enemy. Intimidate only,” Rhaenyra pointed out.

“I shall go,” Baela spoke up and everyone laid their eyes on her but you spotted that Rhaenyra was unsure. Baela was like a daughter to her and even if the dragon was not supposed to actually participate in any fighting, it still was a risky business to go.

“I shall go,” you straightened your back and now everyone looked at you. Baela was visibly unhappy with that, too. She wanted to prove herself.

“But…” She started.

“Onyx is bigger than Moondancer,” you told her. “And I am older. This is far too dangerous for you.”

“But…” She sighed again and looked at Rhaenyra in a way that suggested she knew something you had no idea of. “Who is going to tell The Princess?”

“Who is going to tell me what?” You shook your head questioningly as you looked at all the gathered members of the council. The men clasped their hands and looked down or they tried to avoid your gaze in different ways; looking through or behind you, turning their heads away and clearing their throats. “Who is going to tell me what?” You repeated the question, irritated now.

“Elaena,” Rhaenys finally spoke up and you looked at her, “it is your husband who leads The Green army now, so we have been informed. Your father-in-law called for him and Ser Gwayne Hightower came all the way from Oldtown to lead the army of his nephew.”

You blinked a few times at that revelation, still not processing it fully.

“And Cole?” You asked.

“Aegon named him his new Hand,” Rhaenyra informed you. “He was summoned back to King’s Landing.”

“And Otto?” You furrowed your brow.

“Probably on his way back to Oldtown, Gods only know,” Rhaenyra scoffed. “It doesn’t matter now, Elaena. What matters is that your husband leads the enemy’s army.”

Short silence occurred and you knew that everyone was observing your reaction carefully as if they were inspecting you. But those past few weeks you had learnt how to keep a poker face on. Your jaw was clenched as you discretely wiped your sweaty hands in your skirts.

“I shall go,” you nodded, surely.

“Elaena…” Rhaenyra gave you a meaningful look as if she was scolding you. “I do not think this is a good idea.”

“It must be. It is my husband,” you explained.

“Do you think he might stop his army from attacking at the sight of you?” Jacaerys asked you but you spotted a hint of mockery in his voice.

“I do not know. It might motivate him further to attack, it might want him to stop or it might make him indifferent,” you admitted, truthfully. “But it must be me going there,” you insisted, looking deep into your sister’s eyes.

You desperately wanted her to understand that it was important for you to see him again – even if it would be under such circumstances.

Rhaenyra nodded and you cracked a smile although some men were whispering between each other about this decision but you decided to pretend not to hear it.

“You shall leave at dawn,” Rhaenyra told you. “But, Elaena, remember – do not attack, do you hear me? If The Greens bring their own dragon and they use it, only then you are allowed to join the fight,” she pointed her finger at you.

“I understand,” you nodded your head. It was the reason why you wanted to do it – because it meant patrolling and intimidating only, not the real fight.

“Good. I trust you, sister,” Rhaenyra smiled at you.

“Thank you, my Queen.”

In the morning, you didn’t even have breakfast, too nervous for the upcoming battle. You let your maids braid your hair according to the Valyrian customs and you wore an armour that had been made for you recently. It would be the first time you'd actually wear it outside.

The armour was made of black metal with the ornaments made of Valyrian steel. It was light and feminine but it was intimidating, too, and surely worthy of a dragonrider. You insisted on the black colour because of Onyx’s scales.

You hid the small portrait of your children inside your armour and you looked at yourself one more time in the mirror. You couldn’t help but smile although it was difficult to recognise yourself like this.

“I am a dragon,” you whispered to yourself and lifted your chin up. “I am a Targaryen Princess and I am a dragon blood, a dragon rider – a dragon myself,” you repeated, trying to motivate yourself and with a deep breath, you left the chambers as fast as possible to go to the dragonpit.

Onyx was already waiting for you and a brand new saddle had been placed upon her back – it was matching your black armour. She purred at the sight of you and you petted her nose the way she liked it.

“We have a job to do, my girl,” you told her. “We have to scare Gwayne a little,” you chuckled and she huffed in a way that resembled laughter, too.

With a smile, you jumped on her back and you flew out of Dragonstone. Onyx roared when you were up in the sky as if she was saying farewell.

It didn’t take long to get to Rook’s Rest on a dragonback but the closer you were to your destination, the more nervous you were becoming. You saw from a distance the banners of the two armies and you could hear the clinging sounds of their armours in the wind, the battlecries and the cannons.

They were starting the battle already when you arrived and Onyx announced you with a long and loud roar. You straightened yourself and looked down proudly, with a smirk on your face. Everything froze below you for a moment and then a thunderous cheer greeted you amongst the Black Army.

It was a powerful feeling, you had to admit. No experience of yours could match with it – no memory from when you had been The Royal Princess living in King’s Landing, no memory of your recent time now in Dragonstone and not even any memory of yours from Oldtown where you had been the Lady Hightower.

No amount of respect and power that had ever been shown towards you could match to what you were feeling now – you felt pretty invincible, in fact. And you knew it was bold of you and it was only caused by the sudden rush of adrenaline but in that moment you felt like The Queen yourself. Like you could challenge Rhaenyra and Aegon both – after all, you were their sister, too. Your father had been The King and you were a Targaryen. You had been born to rule over those people below you – those small figures that resembled ants in comparison to your Onyx and its fire.

It was scary how easy it was to forget that you were one of those ants, too.

You ignored the cheers of the Black Army and you looked down at The Greens, searching for one person only – obviously. And you spotted him as your heart skipped a beat.

Gwayne was sitting on his horse in his beautiful armour that you had always admired. Even from this great height you could see that he was looking up with fear in his eyes. You smirked and Onyx roared once again, more angrily this time. The Green Army was panicking as the men were shouting at each other and some were trying to hide.

All the time stopped for you for a short while, though. Your eyes were fixed on your Lord Husband only – it had been a few long weeks apart from him. You wondered what was going inside his head at the moment but most likely it was nothing but a paralysing fear. It was a painful death to die in the fire and he had been telling you about it a few times before that it was one of his fears whenever you had teased him about using Onyx against him. Now, it was no longer a banter between a married couple but reality.

You didn’t want to torment him any more. You ordered Onyx to fly away and leave The Greens alone for now as you went back higher in the skies to patrol the battle. Despite giving them a sign that you were not there to kill them, from the corner of your eye, you spotted that some of the cannons of the Green Army were now aimed at you and Onyx.

Gwayne, however, shaking out of his state of fear, ordered them to turn around and aim at the castle and The Blacks instead. You smiled to yourself and kept circling up in the air as Onyx roared.

Despite your strong bond with her, you could feel how uneasy she was, how impatient. It surprised you because Onyx was a young dragon and she had no experience in battle. In fact, you had suspected her to shy away or get scared at the sight the real fight. And now, your girl seemed to be pretty bold and angry as she huffed and puffed, while her muscles tensed.

“Lykirī, Onyx, lykirī,” you ordered as you patted her neck to calm her down but you had to admit that her restlessness was making you feel worried if you were even able to fully control her after all.

She roared and lowered herself. You squinted your eyes to observe the battle but you had to shout Lykirī! all the time at your dragon because she seemed to be more than eager to join the fight. The sight of her and the sounds she was making seemed to work, though. The Greens were terrified and kept looking up all the time to make sure she wouldn’t burn them all any second. Your intimidation plan seemed to be working better than you had expected.

A few times during the battle, you found Gwayne’s eyes somehow and he would look up back at you but then he would ride away on his horse. Each time, your heart clenched inside your chest and Onyx had to feel it because it was when she was growing the most uneasy.

So far, it was the Green Army that had been winning battle after battle but now they seemed to be too distracted by the dragon flying overhead. It was not the fault of your husband’s leadership – your knowledge of warfare was little but you could see even from up there that most of his orders and ideas were good. It was just simply not enough when a huge beast was a constant deathly treat. The morales were simply too low and you could see that some knights even tried to desert the battlefield in a desperate attempt to save themselves from your hypothetical dragonfire. Meanwhile, The Blacks were not as organised but they felt more confident than ever with The Targaryen Princess watching over them.

“Lykirī, Onyx!” You shouted at your dragon when you felt that her neck was tensing as if she was about to let out the fire. “What’s wrong with you, girl?” You hummed to yourself and leaned in to pat her neck and then you froze at the sight below you.

Gwayne was not wearing his helmet anymore and he was no longer in the saddle. You couldn’t spot his horse but he was surrounded by the Black Army knights. He was fighting them bravely but he was alone against four men and it was a hopeless struggle yet he refused to give up and become their prisoner. You looked around and spotted that most of the Green knights that remained in the battlefield were struggling in a similar way to your husband. You knew very well how it would end now. It would be the very first victory of your army and Rook’s Rest would be defended.

But at what price?

You could see Gwayne’s face more clearly now as Onyx lowered herself even further. He was exhausted and bruised, dirty from the mud and blood and his lip was cut. You had to fight an urge inside of you to just run into his arms, to hold him again, to kiss him, to be with him.

But, so far, it looked like you would never be able to do it since he would lose soon. And you would continue your life with the image of him dying in the battlefield – you would continue your life with regret of leaving him and then doing absolutely nothing to help him in the battlefield.

Onyx groaned loudly and exposed her claws and teeth. You were about to calm her down again and then you noticed something that you had not noticed before – she was not trying to attack the Green Army but… the Black one.

You froze as you realised that her eyes were fixated on the knights carrying your sister’s banners. The fire forming in the depths of her throat was aimed at the men gathered near the castle walls and trying to stop the attack of Gwayne’s army.

Onyx was not loyal to Rhaenyra, after all. Onyx was your dragon and she was loyal to you only. You were her mistress and her rider. She knew you better than anyone else.

Some of the knights of the Black Army cheered at you and your dragon – so confident and sure of themselves that they hadn’t noticed that Onyx’s anger was aimed at them. You squinted your eyes at the black banners of Rhaenyra and then the few of the remaining green ones of Aegon.

Gods damn it, you thought. You loved them both – your sister and your brother. But you also did not really care about any of them being the ruler of Westeros because you were not close with any of them. You had been close to your sister but that was fifteen years ago and now she was like a stranger to you. Aegon had been a baby when you left to Oldtown. Your real family – the man you loved, the father of your children – he was down there, struggling, and surely about to die soon if you wouldn’t do anything to help him.

“Dracarys, Onyx,” you ordered after taking a deep breath in. You watched as if you were outside of your own body how her fire destroyed half of the Black Army in mere seconds. You blinked a few times, still detached physically and mentally from the scene that you were responsible for.

Your dragon seemed to have lots of fun, though. She landed on the ground, crushing a few Black knights on the way. The remaining ones were widening their eyes, too terrified to move or they were trying to run away. Onyx did not need your commands anymore, she just kept on burning them as her waving tail destroyed the castle’s tower, killing dozens of men in the process. You were sitting in the saddle with your back straightened and your chin high, looking over death and destruction with the poker face you had mastered the previous weeks.

You had just become the murderer and the destroyer – the very first person in this war who used her dragon as a weapon. And yet, you felt nothing. Perhaps the regret would come later but all that mattered to you now was that Gwayne was safe again. The remaining Green knights ran up to him and helped him to defeat his enemies and then they stood behind their commander while watching the scene in terror.

When the Black Army was defeated by Onyx nearly single-handedly, you turned her around to face the remaining knights by your husband’s side and Gwayne himself. Onyx roared at them and you could hear that she was happy to see them but they didn’t know her the way you did, therefore they remained terrified. After all, you could have been a maniac who would kill everyone, right?

You were a Targaryen, after all.

You enjoyed their fear for a short while and then you ordered Onyx to lay down and she did so, allowing you to dismount her. Your legs were a bit shaky from all the hours in the saddle and all the emotions but you managed to do it gracefully enough.

You turned around to look into Gwayne’s blue eyes. They were filled with shock and terror but you ignored that completely, finally doing something you had wanted to do for weeks now.

You ran up to him and straight into his arms, nearly knocking him off on the ground as your armours clashed loudly. The knights surrounding him were observing the scene carefully, too scared to react in any way since your Onyx had just given the show of what she was capable of.

Now, however, she looked pretty adorable and innocent as she seemed to take a small nap in the middle of the battlefield full of ashes and blood.

“My Lord,” you cupped your husband’s face and he looked into your eyes with a hint of sadness that you could had expected. However, you were glad that it was sadness instead of anger. “Will you ever forgive me for abandoning you?” You asked, nearly innocently, while biting on your lip as if you weren’t responsible for all this death and destruction below your feet.

Gwayne looked nervously at Onyx napping behind your back and cracked a sad smile at you.

“Do I have a choice, my Lady Wife?” He tried to make a joke as he put his hands on your waist. “If I say no, you will order your dragon to burn me.”

“Onyx would never burn you,” you shook your head with a chuckle as you sniffled your tears back. “That dragon is more difficult to manage than I expected.”

“She is just like you then, my Princess,” Gwayne raised one of his hands to caress your cheek. His touch was gentle like he could not believe that you were really there, standing in front of him.

“She is my dragon, after all. Onyx knows my heart – I could lie to myself but I could never lie to her,” you nodded and then you looked around. “What a mess I have caused.”

“Indeed,” Gwayne only nodded and took his hand away from you.

He turned around and ordered his men to look for the wounded knights and to go for the castle since it was practically left for the taking now. They had to put the new banners on the walls now. You kept standing there and waiting for him to finish so you would be left alone to talk now. When it happened, he looked at you with a sigh and you cracked a smile at his handsome face even though it was bruised and dirty.

“I had to leave. She is my sister, I have sworn to her, she needed me,” you explained.

“I know,” Gwayne nodded. “It broke my heart, Elaena, but I understood. At least some part of me did. I could not understand how you could leave our children like that,” he approached you and you looked away, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

“How are they? What have you told them?”

“They are safe,” Gwayne assured you. “They miss you…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I have lied to them… Well, not really. I have told them that you went to visit your sister. That it was an urgent family matter and you had no time to say farewell but you would be back… Soon,” Gwayne explained. “They are too young to know about the war so they believed me.”

“I doubt Steffon did. He is ten and two now, of course he knows about the war,” you pointed out and shyly looked up. “I shall go to them, even today. I shall take Onyx and go back to Oldtown to hold my children and…” You stopped when you realised something painful. “Of course, that is, if you allow me,” you fixed yourself.

“You are the Lady of Oldtown, I would never forbid you from the city,” Gwayne shook his head. “And you are their mother, they need you.”

“Yes, but so do you. Especially now,” you explained. “After seeing our children, I shall come back to you. I shall accompany you in each battle from now on. I have started something you have no idea of… Now Rhaenyra will make sure to send her dragons to war, too. Her pain and anger will be great from my betrayal,” you pointed out.

“Why did you betray her?” Gwayne asked, raising his eyebrow. “You have sworn to her, haven’t you? What made you change your mind to support King Aegon instead?”

“Fuck Aegon!” You dismissed him and he widened his eyes. “And fuck Rhaenyra. I don’t care about any of them.”

“You shall not be heard saying such things,” Gwayne chuckled nervously.

“They are my siblings, I can speak whatever of them,” you shrugged your arms. “I am by your side only,” you confessed and you looked away.

You knew it was a bit stupid to confess such things when you were the one who had abandoned him without a word of a warning or any explanation. You should be grateful that he was talking to you instead of cutting your head off – as your Lord Husband he had every right to after your stunt and since you were technically a traitor to both of the sides, no one would even punish him for killing you.

But Gwayne moved even closer to you and grabbed your wrist to squeeze it, which made you look up at him shyly again.

“I love you, Elaena. And please, do forgive me that it took me losing you to finally say it out loud. And if it took you running away to realise the same about me, then I can be only grateful for this experience. You are a dragon, my Princess, and I am sorry for forgetting about that,” he whispered.

You couldn’t believe your ears… He was apologising to you?!

“Do not be too greedy, Lord Husband. Do you really expect me to admit out loud that I love you as if I haven’t just betrayed my own army for you? Is that not enough?” You chuckled and so did he, awkwardly. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon the palm of your hand and then he caressed it lovingly. You could feel the longing and yearning in those gestures. “I’ve missed you,” you confessed. “I’ve missed us.”

“So have I,” Gwayne kissed your forehead. It was not proper to exchange such affections in public but you were in the middle of the battlefield so you did not bother to care about it. “But it would be my greatest wish for you to stay in Oldtown after coming back there. I do not want you on the battlefield, Elaena.”

“You can’t stop me,” you shrugged your arms and squeezed his wrists lovingly.

“Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?” He tried a different approach as he smirked at you.

“Watch me,” you smirked back and gently kissed him on the lips.

You hurried through the halls of The Hightower while all the maids and servants were staring at you with widened eyes. They certainly had not expected to ever see you again but no one was trying to stop you. You rushed to the nursery room where all your children had been gathered after your arrival. You had changed from your armour into a comfortable dress and had ordered your maids that you wanted to see your sons and daughters.

You finally pushed the doors open and tears of joy streamed down your cheeks at the sight of their faces. Loras, Lysa and Roslin hurried to you with big smiles and hugged you tightly. You crouched down to squeeze them all lovingly.

“Mummy!” Little Roslin seemed to be the happiest and she was practically shaking at the sight of you. Your heart ached for her when you kissed her all over her tiny face.

“We’re so happy to see you again, Mother,” Loras greeted you like a big boy and you cracked a smile at him before kissing his forehead.

“I am so happy to see you again, too, my love. I’ve missed you terribly,” you confessed, looking at Steffon from the corner of your eye. The silver haired boy was keeping his distance from you and staring at you questioningly. “Steffon?” You called for him and he walked up to you reluctantly.

“Mother,” he only said and kissed your cheek before moving away. “Does father know that you’re here?”

“Of course,” you furrowed your brow at him. “I saw him yesterday,” you nodded at him but he didn’t look convinced.

“And how was the time with your sister?” Lysa asked and you kissed her cheeks.

“It was good,” you nodded with a sad smile. “But I regretted that I couldn’t be with you.”

“Will you stay now?” Loras asked and you caressed his head gently.

“I wish I could but I have to join your father,” you explained. “We will be back soon. Together,” you assured him.

“Father left for the war,” Steffon pointed out.

“And I must, too. I am a Targaryen and a dragonrider, my darling,” you tried to explain. “Either way, let’s not dwell on that now. We have a whole day to spend together,” you squeezed the hands of your girls.

You didn’t leave your children even for a second for the whole day and in the evening you allowed them to sleep with you in your chambers that you share with Gwayne. Since he was not in Oldtown, there was a lot of empty space in the bed. Steffon did not join you in the evening, though, and for the whole day he was roaming around but never actively spending his time with you either. It was hurting you deeply but you wanted to give him space and you were aware that he was old enough to realise more than you’d like him to. You could not blame him for being angry.

Watching your sweet babies sleep, you could not drift off to the land of dreams yourself. You had spent the previous night in the arms of your husband after weeks of being apart and it had surely helped you to fall asleep but now you were being haunted by the visions of what had happened in the battlefield and of what Rhaenyra’s reaction had to be after hearing about your betrayal.

You were laying on your back and staring at the ceiling when the doors creaked as they opened and you lifted yourself on your elbows to see the intruder. It was Steffon.

“Mother?” He whispered. “Are you asleep?”

“No, my love. Come in,” you whispered back and carefully left the bed, making sure not to wake up the rest of your children.

You approached your son and put your hands on his shoulders. The night was cold, therefore there was a fire burning in the fireplace. You brought him closer and you both sat on a fluffy carpet there. Steffon avoided your gaze but you could see he was dying to ask you something.

“What is it, my love?” You fixed his silver hair gently.

“I know what the war is about and that you left to see your sister…” He mumbled out quietly. “You chose her. Not us,” he pointed out and dared to look up, his lilac eyes meeting yours.

“No, I chose you. You have no idea what I have done, the choice I have made,” you nodded at him and caressed his cheek with your finger. “I left to see her, she is my sister, my blood. I grew up alongside her, we share the same father and the same mother. But there was a hole in my chest because I missed you and… And I missed your father, too,” you confessed.

“I have never seen him sadder,” Steffon said and your heart clenched inside your chest. “I knew it was not about you visiting your sister. I knew immediately you had abandoned us.”

“I know you are angry at me now and you have every right to be. And I know how much children hate it when they are being told that but one day you shall understand it. Because you are a Targaryen, perhaps the most out of all my children,” you smiled at him.

“Because of my hair and eyes?”

“No, my love. All of my children are as Targaryen as Hightower. But you have the spirit… The fire,” you told him. “I love all my children dearly but you are a dragon,” you nodded.

“Do you have to leave again?” He asked and his lilac eyes filled with tears.

“I’ll be back,” you promised. “But I’m a dragonrider and when the war calls, I am on the go,” you explained. “Your father needs me by his side and King Aegon needs more dragons.”

Steffon sniffed his tears back and he finally moved closer to hug you. You wrapped your arms around him and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

In the evening of the very next day you were already dismounting Onyx in King’s Landing. All that travelling had been exhausting for you and her but it was necessary. You patted her and allowed her to rest in the dragonpit as you were being escorted to The Red Keep by a few guards.

You were wearing your armour again even though it felt a bit wrong to wear the armour that Rhaenyra had requested to be made for you so you could fight the war for her.

Gwayne was waiting for you by the gates to the castle. You smiled widely at the sight of him and you ran up to your husband as he ordered the guards to walk away because he would escort you to The King himself.

“And how was it?” He asked you after kissing the palm of your hand.

“Only Steffon knew, just as I suspected,” you sighed. “But we have explained everything to each other. I believe he has forgiven me or at least he is no longer cross with me,” you nodded. “I miss them again but the pain is less when I know I am with you,” you smiled and Gwayne took you by your arm to lead you to the council meeting.

“You have become quite a controversial figure, my Princess,” he informed you and you chuckled nervously.

“I do wonder why,” you tried to joke.

The doors were opened in front of you and you were announced as Princess Elaena Targaryen, Lady Hightower while everyone was staring at you.

The man sitting right in front of you had to be your brother Aegon because he was taking your father’s seat by the table. You bowed down at him and after a short while of silence, he laughed and clapped his hands.

“Sister!” He greeted you so happily that you were nearly suspecting an ambush. He stood up and rushed to your side to wrap his arms tightly around you. “Sister Elaena! How good it is to see you again! Do you remember me?” He took a step back and looked deep into your eyes, hoping for a positive answer like an excited puppy.

You cracked a smile at him and dared to move your hand up to brush a single silver hair strand behind his ear in a motherly way.

“Of course I do, my King,” you nodded. “You were a small babe then but I remember it fondly,” you assured him and it was no lie. “You loved to sit on my lap by the table and eat all the sweets that I was spoiling you with despite our father’s scolding looks. It was always our secret how many cakes you ate,” you reminded him and Aegon grinned at you.

“This is my sister!” He pointed his finger at you after turning around to face his council. “My sister who has burnt Rhaenyra’s army for me. Her loyalty shall not be questioned,” he announced and walked away to sit on his chair again.

You didn’t want to correct him that you hadn’t burnt anyone for him because it would be a political suicide to do so. You only cracked a smile at your husband. You didn’t expect the greeting to go so smoothly. Aegon seemed to be very desperate for any sort of attention or affection.

“Princess Elaena’s loyalty shall still be proven,” the tall young man without one eye smirked at you. That had to be your brother Aemond, whom you hadn’t met.

You sighed and rolled your eyes at that. Each side had their Daemon, apparently.

“I will be proving my loyalty to The King, brother. I do not owe you anything for we are equals,” you reminded him with a smirk, too.

Suddenly, Queen Alicent stood up and approached you to give you a warm hug. You hugged her back even though you were surprised by that welcome from her.

“We are happy to have you back,” she said and you spotted honesty alongside the sadness in her big, brown eyes. You nodded your head at her.

“My Queen,” you greeted her.

“Queen Dowager,” she fixed you. “Helaena is The Queen now. Do you remember her?”

“Of course,” you smiled at the image of tiny Helaena from your memories. “I would love to see her.”

“After the meeting,” Queen Alicent nodded and pointed at the empty chair for you. Gwayne stood behind you as if he was your sworn guard.

Well, as your Lord Husband, he was.

After the meeting of King Aegon’s council, you went to Queen Helaena’s chambers with Queen Alicent.

“Helaena, you have a guest,” her mother opened the doors gently. “It is your sister, Princess Elaena.”

After that introduction, you walked inside and bowed your head in front of your younger sister. She was standing by the window and turned her head around as her eyes widened at the sight of you.

“An oath-breaker,” she greeted you in a mysterious way that made a chill go down your spine. “You bring death and destruction.”

You had no idea how to answer that and you looked at Alicent, searching for some sort of explanation but she only blushed and looked down, uncomfortably.

“Our Queen often speaks in riddles,” she told you.

“No, your majesty,” you shook your head, “I do know very well what our Queen means.”

MASTERLIST

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x oc #targaryen oc #lilysfiction

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hughiecampbelle · 1 month

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The Boys Preference: Dying Of The Supe Virus

Requested: Hi!! I wanted to request a preference for the boys + homelander reaction if R was dying from supe virus... I love your blog, thank you ♥️♥️♥️♥️ - anon

A/N: I kinda took it in two directions, either actively dying or already dead. I think some perspectives just worked better that way! I really hope you like it my love! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher pretends it didn't matter to him, but he definitely blames himself. It might've been Sameer who shot you up with the virus, but it was him who put you in charge of him. It was Billy who thought to put a Supe in charge of the only thing in the world that could kill you. When Frenchie breaks the news, Kimiko carrying your body in, he feels like he's going to be sick. He was the one who was dying. It should have been him. He tries to help the team move on, focus, and orders Frenchie to extract the virus from your body, but underneath he's broken. He didn't trust or like a lot of Supes, the majority actually, but you were different. You were close, whether or not he could admit to it. There was nothing he could do to save you. He couldn't turn back time, he couldn't prevent this. He looks like he's moved on, but Butcher feels stuck in the moment, watching your face, waiting for you to laugh and tell him it was just another sick joke.

Hughie laughs. He's hysterical. The ridiculousness of it all, of the situation. You? Dead? You couldn't die. You walked away from a bullet between your eyes with a smile. You made moving on from death look easy. Effortless. He's afraid to touch you, to look at you. He truly believes, for a moment, that that's not you. Your features are bubbled and blistered, but he recognizes your hands. Hughie backs away, stifling a laugh, escaping to the bathroom where he throws up. Annie tries to go after him, but M. M. stops her. He smiles despite himself, crying and laughing, unable to control himself. He already lost his dad. He couldn't lose you, too. Like M.M. he feels like an idiot, selfish even. He never imagined a world where you could be killed. He never thought he'd have to worry about you. Now you weren't just hurt, you were dead. Murdered. He can't accept it. You didn't deserve to suffer the way you did. You didn't deserve to die. Hughie is a mix between denial and hysteria.

Annie is overwhelmed with despair and depression. You've known her since the beginning. You were the first person she ever became close to in NYC. Now you were gone. She throws herself into your funeral arrangements, practically biting the head off anyone who tries to interrupt her or make her take a break. When she's not staying up until the early morning trying to make the memorial perfect, she's sobbing behind closed doors. She tries to keep herself composed as much as possible, but everyone can see the mask slipping. Cracking. Her eyes are permanently black from mascara running. She's not eating or sleeping. When Butcher says to extract the virus from your body, she goes postal. She calls him cruel and heartless and pathetic. She can't help it. Your body is barely cold and he's still thinking about taking down Homelander. It was inhumane.

M.M. is angry. Angry at Frenchie and Kimiko (he knows it isn't fair, but he just can't help it), angry at you, and angry at himself. He got too close to you. You were a Supe, after all. The very thing he vowed to hate. And then you showed up, and he started to care about you despite himself. And now you're gone. He feels like in idiot. He thought you were bulletproof. Literally. He never once had to worry about you or think about what would happen if you passed. It never crossed his mind. He was constantly worrying and fixating on everyone else, but you would always be okay. His OCD gets so much worse in response to his grief. Everything must be done in threes. The burners, the locks, everything must be checked three times. Everyone starts to worry the more out of control his rituals become. His panic attacks, too, get worse. Less manageable. Every time he thinks about you, what happened to you, he feels like his heart will pound out of his chest.

Frenchie is deeply in denial. He was so busy bickering and then making up with Kimiko that he hadn't realized Sameer had broken free. You were the first to jump at the chance to stop him, and that's what got you killed. The needle plunged into your ankle. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't cut off your limb. Your Supe abilities didn't work like that. The blisters bubbled fast, moving up your leg to your torso, your chest. You clawed at your neck, crying out, unable to form words. Frenchie begged and prayed, but it wasn't stopping. He had to break the news about your death. He definitely blames himself. If he had been paying more attention. If he had been the one to react instead of you. Even though he watched you die, he's still in denial. He can't accept it and thinks you'll be back in no time. He gets angry when you don't call or text and is intensely lonely because he's expecting you to reach out. He just can't wrap his head around it and absolutely hates that Annie's planning your funeral. You were fine. Why did you need a funeral for someone who was perfectly fine?

Kimiko blames herself, too. If she'd been the one to get the virus, if she'd been the one injected, they could have stopped it. They could have moved on. Instead, she sat beside you, unblinking, unmoving, stroking your arm. Even as Frenchie extracts the virus from your body, your blood, she doesn't let go of you. M.M. and Annie urge her to sleep and eat (though they're both doing little of that themselves), but she can't move from you. When she does sleep, it's with her head beside you. Everyone knows you only have so much time before your body starts to decompose. They want to give her as much time as she needs, but they're also working against the clock. She definitely reacts like after Kenji was killed, crawling and hiding under tables, unresponsive with her usual kindness. She's cold, cagey, spiky. There's no reaching her when she's like this. They have to let her be. Let her grieve. Eventually she'll find her way back.

Bonus! Homelander thinks everyone's lying. Ashley breaks the news to him, petrified and sweating. Something, a virus or bug or whatever, killed you. Because The Boys still needed your body, they mailed pictures of you to the Vought Tower addressed to Ashley. He looks through them, and though she tells him they're not fake, he orders them to check again. He holds on to one, unable to look away. When they tell him that yes, definitively, they are real, he orders everyone out. He goes to his floor and destroys everything. Everything is a mess. He hasn't cried like this in years, decades even. Uncontrollable sobbing, caressing your picture. You were the only one he ever really cared about. Now you were dead because of those asssholes. He doesn't come up with a strategy or plan. He will search the entire world until he has Butchers head on a platter. Until that whole fucking group is torn limb by limb.

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luveline · 1 year

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hiii jade i have a request for u if you’re up for it!! something about spencer and the reader in a new relationship and sort of keeping it from the team but having to tell hotch for an HR report or something and the subsequent kind teasing from him and the team? thank u love u have a wonderful day

thank you, ily I hope you have a great day too! tysm for u request! —you and spencer tell the team you're in a relationship. 1.1k, fem!reader

You decide to take the plunge if only to save Spencer the embarrassment, but things don't go as planned.

You knock on Hotch's office door primly, invited inside with the same professional politeness. You and Hotch actually get along very well, and though it took some time for him to warm to you, once Hotch is warmed, you can't ever not feel it.

"L/N," he greets. You're startled to receive his full attention, no notes scratched under his hand or phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder.

"Hi, Hotch. So, uh, I'm a little nervous, but I have something to tell you."

He sits back in his chair subtly. "You don't have to be nervous," he says. "Unless you've broken the coffee maker again. I'm afraid I won't be as forgiving twice."

"It's nothing broken, it's…"

"Do you want to sit down?" he asks, his joking softened to a familial concern.

"No, it's not as bad as I'm making it out, I just know how embarrassing this is going to be. I," —you squeeze your hands together as you take the plunge— "asked Spencer to be my boyfriend, this weekend. And he said yes. I know it's not very convenient because we work together, but I checked the government website and it said that we have to tell you, and that you'd actually have to fill out a bunch of forms. I'm sorry."

Hotch's eyebrows rise a little further with every sentence. "I'm sorry you can't be afforded a little more privacy," he says, standing up. He smiles as he rounds his desk. "Congratulations, Y/N. This is good news, no matter how many forms I have to fill in."

You sigh in relief as he pulls you in for a hug. "Thanks, Hotch. I'm really happy."

"It's been a long time coming," he murmurs, rubbing your back quickly before he steps back. "Excuse me a second."

You bring your hands together at your abdomen, startled. "Sure."

Hotch walks out of his office onto the landing overlooking the bullpen. Spencer, who didn't know you were going to do this, is sitting unawares at his desk, a look of dread flooding his features.

You frown.

"Reid, a word," Hotch says.

The rest of the team look up at his scary tone, see you confused in his office, and offer looks of mirrored confusion plus a good helping of sympathy.

Spencer gives you a reassuring smile as he follows Hotch back into the office. The door closes with a formidable thunk.

"Y/N's just told me you have news."

Spencer's hand twitches toward you.

"Congratulations," Hotch says, dropping the act.

You're honestly astounded —Hotch can be playful, especially with the team, but not often at work.

Spencer seems a little dumbfounded too. "Thanks, Hotch." They share a hug. Spencer relaxes into it quickly. "We're sorry about all the forms," he says.

"Y/N's already apologised. What's another mountain of paperwork?" They step apart. "I'm happy for you both. Really. This job is different when you have someone at home you're doing it for."

You leave Hotch's office together and in shock, though the floor feels cushioned, weight shelling off of your shoulders with every step. Spencer puts his hand behind your back as you descend the steps back into the bullpen, his fingertips impossibly affectionate. They're only fingertips, how can they be loving? But they are.

You smile at him dopily, endeared by the blush staining his cheeks.

"What the hell was that about?" Emily asks in a whisper shout, tucking her dark hair behind her ears. "What did you guys do?"

Spencer steps closer to your side. Too close; a colleague would never have reason to do so, nor to put the hand behind your back. He doesn't even need to curl his hand over your hip for Emily and Derek to understand, but he does.

"You're kidding!" Emily cheers.

"Don't act like you guys didn't know," you say.

Spencer isn't the shy, awkward boy he was a few years ago, but he also isn't uber confident, and the attention you feel all of a sudden has his grip tightening on your hip.

"You finally told her?" Derek asks, practically leaping out of his seat.

You get the first hug. Spencer gets the longer one. You know it means a lot to him that Derek approves, and luckily Derek loves you. "Actually, she asked me," Spencer says, pulling away with a blinding smile.

"Really?" Emily asks.

"Well, I asked Spence to be official," you amend, accepting her side hug. "He kissed me last week in New York."

"I knew it!" Emily says in your ear, nearly deafening you.

"I thought you chickened out?" Derek asks Spencer, jabbing him in the side with two hands.

Spencer did not chicken out, the opposite. You'd been sitting together at the end of his bed after the case finished, lamenting over your lack of sight-seeing. Spencer had shrugged, said, "We'll come back."

"For a case?" you'd asked. "That's not likely, right? We barely ever come to New York."

"We could come without the team. Me and you."

"You and me?"

It wasn't an overly charged run up, though there have been moments of tension between you both. This was tame, and sweet, the perfect confession. Spencer as courteous as he always is, cautious with nerves, took your wrist into his hand and looked you in the eye. "If you want to see more of the city, we could come together. There are so many places here I think you'd be interested in."

"As friends?" you'd asked, knowing it was make or break.

"No… Not as friends."

It wasn't a second longer before you were closing your eyes for a kiss.

"I told you, man, it's the city of love," Derek says.

You laugh and move forward to slide your fingers between Spencer's. "That's Paris."

"You kissed, didn't you?" Derek pretends to dry his eyes. "My babies are all grown up."

Spencer rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. "We'll be subjected to this for a while."

"A few weeks, at least," you agree.

"Wait until JJ and Penelope find out," Emily says with a laugh, her eyes lit with amusement.

You look up at the side of Spencer's face with a huge beaming smile. You can take any amount of ridicule if it means the space between you is finally nullified. You're sure of it. He turns his head to you, smiling with less zealous joy but the same budding, dizzying affection.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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thelonelyshore-if · 9 months

Text

Meet me at the cabin. Please.

You weren’t sure what to make of it. A cryptic late night text sent from your younger sibling, begging you to meet up at your family’s old lake home. The plea for help was as concerning as it was confusing. As far as you knew, neither of you had set foot in the cabin in a decade. You had your hesitations, but Willow seemed desperate. You couldn’t help but oblige.

Everything goes downhill fast when Willow's research into childhood ghost stories lands you in a town that doesn't exist. A town where people go missing at an alarming rate, where things that aren't quite human run businesses with hungry eyes, where time runs differently.

A town you can't leave.

Something about Easthaven is wrong. A supernatural fog permeates the town, so thick you could choke…but you’re one of the only people who seems to notice it. You’re quick to realize the fog keeps the residents ignorant, keeps them passive, keeps them trapped. When people who have long since gone missing start coming back home, you realize Easthaven’s mysteries go deeper than you could have ever imagined.

Explore the magic and the horrors of the small town of Easthaven, team up with the few others who can see through the fog, and do everything you can to make your way back home.

The Lonely Shore is an 18+ supernatural horror story (and mystery) inspired by works such as Midnight Mass, The Mist, Scarlet Hollow, and Gravity Falls. A story about how sometimes places can feel like people, how easy it is to do terrible things for those we love, and how small towns have a way of eating you alive.

FEATURES:

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; trans or cis. Choose up to two sets of pronouns or input your own. Customize your appearance and develop your personality throughout the game.

Romance or befriend a cast of characters. Options for ace and aro routes, as well as three polyamorous paths.

Customize Willow, your younger sibling. Select their gender and determine what your relationship with them is. Will you rebuild a broken relationship? Or let a good one go down in flames?

Explore the world of Easthaven, a town that exists outside of time, separated completely from the rest of the world. A place where tragedy is mundane and death is around every corner. Encounter the Fog, the source of all of Easthaven’s horrors.

Build up to one of five distinct magic styles as your character comes to life; including necromancy, clairvoyance, manipulating the Fog, becoming something monstrous–or suppressing your magic instead, having it come out in uncontrollable bursts.

Solve the mystery of the Returned: citizens who have been missing for months, years, decades but who have recently started coming back home.

CHARACTERS:

Jaylen 'Jay' Jones (M/F)

A veterinarian-in-training and member of the town's Search & Rescue team who has seen Easthaven's horrors firsthand. A kindhearted but wary person who cares more about keeping people safe than they do about solving the town's mysteries. They're tired of losing people.

Yasmin Bakir-King (F)

The local librarian, a fiercely clever widow with very little patience for nonsense. Very outgoing, she's one of the most well-known figures in town. She starts the story unaware of Easthaven's dangers but very quickly gets thrust into the middle of the town's latest mystery.

Amir/Amara "Croft" (M/F)

A reclusive, ill-tempered horror author who just so happens to be the town's latest newcomer…until you show up. Croft came to town with their share of secrets, and there's nothing in the world they want more than to escape Easthaven.

Beck Dawn (genderfluid)

Fun-loving and reckless, Beck is an adrenaline junkie who can't seem to stay out of danger…despite being completely unaware of the town's secrets. A magnet for trouble, it's no surprise Beck lands right in the middle of Easthaven's latest mystery.

Ravi Singh (M)

Easthaven's local mortician. Ravi is easygoing and quick to laugh; though sometimes his humor leans towards the macabre. But his easy smiles don't cover up his almost chilling comfort with the Fog; nor do they get rid of the pile of skeletons in his closet.

Perri Loveless (M/F/NB)

Runs one of Easthaven's three radio stations. In the day they play music, and at night they host a supernatural-themed call in radio show, The Lonely Shore. Perri is an enthusiastic (if a bit awkward) person whose theories tend towards the unbelievable. It's unfortunate that, despite all of their theories, Perri has no idea what's actually going on in Easthaven.

And…

"Willow" (M/F/NB)

Your little sibling. Flighty, impulsive, and outgoing; their fascination with the occult is what lands you in Easthaven. Your relationship can range from best friends to sworn enemies. Will they be able to save you from the mess they've made?

LINKS:

DEMO | ROs | Content Warnings

( current wordcount : 225,095 without code )

#interactive fiction #if intro #choicescript #dashingdon #hosted games #if wip

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turcott3 · 1 month

Text

greedy

ethan edwards x fem! reader

warnings?: alcohol, cursing, fluff fluff FLUFF, and one kiss!

masterlist

you found yourself dancing with a drink in your hand, in the living room of none other than, the hockey team.

of course you were looped in with them pretty well, being close with some of the girlfriends, class with some of the guys and one of them you were particularly close with.

the one who got teased for being the only singleton besides luca, but luca was mostly left out of the mess with his dating history. not that it was bad, he just dated one of their sisters and now they want him single, leaving no one else other than ethan.

you danced in the close quarters, hoping and praying that somehow the crowd would push you and ethan closer together so you could finally talk to him. almost instantly, you were pushed along running into him, like your wish was granted.

“oh hey y/n, you look amazing.” ethan says eyeing you up and down. the two of you had a little something going on that you kept a secret, almost against your will. it hadn’t been very long though, you hadn’t even kissed him before.

“hi ethan, thank you.” you reply smiling as the small talk flowed naturally for a few minutes. ethan grew irritated as the guy behind him kept stepping back and leaning on him, you could tell his annoyance was growing by the second.

“hey dude, could you fucking stop.” ethan says loudly. suddenly the guy turns, elbow flying straight into ethan’s nose.

“oh sorry didn’t see you there.” he says in a mocking tone, turning back around. once ethan finally removed his hands you saw the blood start to drip.

“fuck ed, you’re bleeding.” you say tilting his chin up to keep it from dripping onto his white shirt.

“i am?” he asks.

“yes babe, come on.” you reply as you grab onto his hand, pulling him up the stairs and into his bedroom, which conveniently had a bathroom. you shut the door behind you quickly and looked around.

“can you sit on the bed for me? and keep your chin up please.” you shout from the bathroom.

“yes maam.” he teases from a few feet away, a red blush flushing over your features. you rolled up a few sheets up toilet paper and stuck it in his nostril to soak up the mess that could’ve been made.

“that guy was such a dick, did it hurt?” you ask, standing in front of him.

“it happened too quickly i’m honestly not even sure, but it does hurt a little now.” he says, observing that it’s definitely not broken.

“he’s a pussy, he couldn’t even break it.” he laughs. a few minutes go by allowing the blood to dry. carefully you pull the tissue out and toss it to his trash can, handing him one more sheet.

“make sure you’re all done.” you say and he nods, wiping the dried blood from his nostril.

“all good.” he says, setting the tissue on his nightstand.

“good, i kept your shirt from a stain.” you smile as you place your hands on either side of his face, his arm wrapping around your hips and pulling you between his legs.

“thank you for cleaning me up y/n.” he says lowly.

“yeah of course, it’s no problem.” you reply locking eyes with him.

his face inches forward quickly with a smile on his face.

“can i kiss you?” he asks still moving forward, his grin growing wider.

“no, not here ethan, not now.” you giggle, turning your head to the side, his lips hitting the corner of your mouth.

“fuck, you’re better at this than i am.” he sighs, a glimmer in his eye. you wrap the boy up in a tight hug, one of your hands toying with the hair on the back of his head as he presses sweet kisses from your neck all the way across your collarbone to the tip of your shoulder. you smiled as you sighed, loving the intimate moments you shared with him. he kisses left hot impressions on your skin without question. they made you wish you could just make him yours in a house full of people, but you wouldn’t dare. especially not with the door unlocked.

“you’re so damn cute right now, you know that?” he says pulling away, his hands unwrapping from your back straight to your waist.

“thank you handsome.” you say, your arms wrapping back around him as you pressed a handful of kisses to his cheek. you could feel the smile on his cheeks as you hugged onto him, never wanting to let him go. his arms were now one of the few places you really felt comfortable.

“it’s getting late, should i walk you home?” he asks, pulling away for the last time.

“if we can sneak out unnoticed, yes.” you smile as he nods, opening his bedroom door for you.

the two of you made your escape with ease, everyone too drunk to realize you were even still there in the first place. you and ethan remained buzzed, but far from drunk. you walked around the neighborhood for what seems like hours before you finally made it to your front porch.

“this is it isn’t it?” he asks, dropping your hand as you walked up the steps to your front door.

“yep.” you sighs, wanting nothing more for him to just kiss you in this moment. you were alone and far from any possible spies.

“i’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, placing light hands on your waist, preparing to hug you again.

“of course.” you smile lightly as he pulls you in for one of the warmest hugs he’d ever given you. slowly, he pulls away locking eyes with you before leaning in and locking his lips onto yours.

finally.

his lips fit on yours like a perfect match. they were soft and sweet just like you’d imagined in all the fake scenarios you’d created in your head to make you feel better about your situation. his grip on your waist squeezed one last time before pulling away with a smile on his face and his eyes shut, looking straight at the ground.

“what?” you giggle.

“nothing baby, it’s nothing. god you don’t understand how long i’ve been waiting to do that.” he sighs out in relief.

“well if you were wondering, it was amazing but i think i need a few more to really give you a good review.” you smile, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as he pulled you flush against his chest for another one. this kiss more natural and loving, even better than the first.

“i guess i should be getting back now.” he frowns as the two of you pull away, pressing a kiss to your hand before turning his back to you.

“eddy wait.” you call out to him.

“yeah?”

“i don’t want you walking all that way by yourself,” you half lie, “why don’t you stay with me? my parents aren’t home.”

“are you sure?”

“yes baby, come on.” you reply waving him back, tugging him into your front door by his shirt.

the next morning, you were finally able to wake up by his side for the first time. your eyes fluttered open as the brunette laid peacefully asleep next to you. you took it all in as you both laid there, your fingers raking through his soft hair. he groans after a few strokes, yawning as his eyes flickered open

“good morning sleepy head.” you giggle.

“good morning pretty girl.” he smiles lightly, pulling you to his chest as he pressed light kisses all over your face.

if you could never leave this moment, let alone the last 24 hours, you wouldn’t. you wanted to stay wrapped up in him forever if you could. and maybe you could even finally tell your friends about him.

#ethan edwards fluff #ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards #umich hockey #umich imagine #turcs’ talk

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ltash · 11 days

Text

In wolf's disguise

Ghost shares you with his twin brother

SimonGhostRileyxfemalereader 6k words

Warning: 18+, MDNI, smut, nonCon, dubCon, p in v, sexual theme, threesome.

You’d always thought working in the SAS would be intense, but you hadn’t expected it to be this intense. The moment you were appointed to the administration team, things had been overwhelming. The high-paced environment, the constant movement of soldiers, the silent intensity that seemed to hang in the air, it all took some getting used to. But the strangest part was how your life seemed to have shifted the day you caught the attention of Lieutenant Ghost.

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley, as he was formally known, had a reputation that preceded him. Stoic, quiet, and always masked behind that skull balaclava that made his very presence feel like the room temperature had dropped. You’d heard stories of his calm, unflinching demeanour in even the most dangerous situations. Ghost was the kind of man people didn’t mess with.

And yet, ever since you started, you noticed his eyes on you. Watching. Protecting.

At first, you thought it was just in your head, but it became more evident with time. He seemed to appear when things got tough, when you had trouble with a task, or when someone looked a little too long at you. His silent, looming presence became a sort of shield. It made you feel... safe, even though you hardly knew him. You weren’t sure what to make of it.

Things remained quiet for a while, that is, until you met Ghost’s twin brother.

Lieutenant Wolf Riley, Simon's identical twin, had an uncanny resemblance to him, down to the sharp features, the piercing eyes, and the intimidating aura. However, Wolf didn’t wear the infamous skull mask, and that wasn’t the only difference. Wolf’s physique was even more pronounced than Simon’s. He was taller, broader, and carried an air of arrogant confidence that set him apart. Where Simon was silent and mysterious, Wolf was loud and boisterous. And where Simon seemed to keep his distance, Wolf had no qualms about getting too close.

“Hey there,” Wolf had said the first time he cornered you, his voice a silky murmur that sent chills down your spine. “I’m Simon’s brother. Wolf. And you must be the new girl who’s caught everyone’s attention.”

He had said it with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. It was predatory, in a way. You’d felt uncomfortable immediately, but you didn’t want to be rude.

“Nice to meet you,” you’d responded politely, trying to inch away without making it obvious.

From that day on, Wolf made it his mission to seek you out. Wherever you were, he wasn’t far behind, his flirtatious comments, the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long, the subtle touches that made your skin crawl. It was no secret that Wolf had a reputation with women. He was a notorious playboy, always seen with a different woman, and it wasn’t hard to imagine the trail of broken hearts and damaged souls he’d left behind. The problem was, he had his eye on you now, and it was only a matter of time before he made his move.

Ghost seemed to notice almost immediately. You hadn’t realized it at first, but the more Wolf pursued you, the more protective Ghost became. He’d show up unexpectedly when Wolf was around, his presence like a silent barrier between the two of you.

“You alright?” Ghost would ask in that deep, gravelly voice of his, though his eyes spoke more than his words.

“Yeah,” you’d reply, grateful for his intervention but unsure of how to express it.

One evening, after you’d finished a long day of administrative work, you noticed Wolf lingering in the hallway outside your office. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, with a cocky smile on his lips as you approached.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that made your skin crawl.

You forced a polite smile, trying to walk past him, but he stepped in your way, his arm outstretched to block your path.

“Where’s the rush? We haven’t had the chance to really... get to know each other.” His voice was slick with implication.

“I’m just tired,” you mumbled, trying to push past him. “I need to get back to my room.”

But Wolf didn’t move. His expression darkened as his fingers grazed your arm. “Come on, don’t be like that. You’re always running off. I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.”

Panic began to rise in your chest. Wolf wasn’t like the other soldiers, he had a way of making you feel trapped, as if there was no escape. Just as you began to feel genuinely afraid, a cold voice cut through the tension.

“Back off, Wolf.”

Ghost appeared seemingly out of nowhere, his towering form casting a shadow over the two of you. His presence was like a wall between you and the growing danger. Wolf’s hand dropped from your arm as he turned to face his brother, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, if it isn’t the knight in shining armour,” Wolf mocked, though there was a hint of irritation in his tone. “Come to save the damsel in distress?”

Ghost’s eyes were fixed on his brother, the intensity of his gaze hidden behind the skull mask but evident in the way he held himself. “I said, back off,” he repeated, his voice low and threatening.

Wolf raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. There is no need to get all worked up, Simon. I was just talking.”

Ghost didn’t move until Wolf had walked away, the smirk never leaving his face. Once he was gone, Ghost turned to you, his expression softening, though it was hard to tell behind the mask.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, though your hands were trembling slightly. “Yeah... thank you.”

Ghost said nothing more, but you could feel the weight of his silent protection. From that moment on, you knew he wasn’t just watching over you out of duty. It was something more.

Weeks passed, and despite Ghost’s constant vigilance, Wolf’s interest in you only grew. He became more possessive, more intense, and more reckless with his advances. You started locking your door at night, terrified that one day he’d push too far.

And then, one night, he did.

It was late, the base was quiet, and you were in your room trying to unwind after a long day. Suddenly, there was a loud banging on your door. Your heart skipped a beat as you froze, hoping it was just someone making a mistake. But the banging continued, louder this time.

“Open up bitch!” Wolf’s slurred voice came from the other side. “I know you’re in there!”

Panic surged through you. He was drunk. You didn’t know what he was capable of when he was like this.

You rushed to lock the door, your hands shaking as you tried to secure the latch. But just as you turned the lock, Wolf slammed his body against the door, breaking it open. He stumbled inside, his eyes wild and unfocused.

“There you are,” he slurred, a twisted smile on his face. “You’ve been hiding from me, haven’t you?”

You backed away, your heart racing in your chest. “Wolf, get out.”

But he didn’t listen. He took a step toward you, and then another, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous hunger. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, reaching for you. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Just as his hand brushed your arm, the door slammed open again, this time with a force that rattled the walls. Ghost stood in the doorway, his mask in place, but the rage radiating off of him was palpable.

“Get your hands off her,” Ghost growled, his voice like thunder.

Wolf turned to face him, his expression shifting from drunken lust to irritated defiance. “What’s the matter, Simon? Can’t let me have a little fun?”

Ghost moved faster than you’d ever seen him move, grabbing Wolf by the collar and shoving him against the wall. The two brothers locked eyes, the air thick with tension.

“She’s not yours to touch,” Ghost snarled, his voice deadly.

Wolf laughed, though it was clear he was taken off guard by Ghost’s aggression. “You really think she’ll choose you over me?” he taunted, though his voice was weaker now. “You’re just the silent protector. I’m the one she wants.”

Ghost leaned in closer, his voice a low growl. “If you come near her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

For the first time, Wolf looked genuinely intimidated. He shoved Ghost off him with a snarl, straightening his jacket. “Fine. Have it your way, Simon. But don’t think this is over.”

Wolf stormed out of the room, leaving you trembling in the aftermath. Ghost turned to you, his eyes softening behind the mask as he approached carefully, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, though tears pricked at your eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The commonroom hummed of the overhead lights barely cutting through the silence. Ghost sat at a table in the corner, the steam from his coffee swirling in the air as he took a slow, deliberate sip. His mind was on you, as it often had been lately, his thoughts tangled with a protective instinct that had grown sharper in recent days. Wolf, his twin brother, had been lurking around more often, his intentions clear, and Ghost could feel the tension brewing them.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Wolf sauntered in, his usual swagger evident in every step. Ghost didn’t need to look up to know it was him. The air changed when Wolf entered a room, like a storm about to break.

“What do you want now, mutt?” Ghost grumbled, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

Wolf slid into the chair next to him, too close for comfort, with a smirk plastered on his face. His presence felt invasive, like a shadow creeping in where it didn’t belong.

“I have something for you that you can not deny.” Wolf’s voice was a low drawl, dripping with arrogance.

Ghost’s eyes finally flicked up, narrowing as he studied his brother’s face. There was always some twisted game in Wolf’s words, and Ghost had no patience for it today.

“And what might that be?” Ghost asked dryly, his voice laced with irritation.

“You know she’s mine,” Wolf replied, leaning back casually, as if he were discussing the weather.

Ghost’s expression hardened instantly. He knew exactly who Wolf was referring to, you. The thought of Wolf claiming you, speaking about you like you were his possession, sent a wave of anger through him. He turned his body slightly, squaring his shoulders as he faced Wolf directly, his eyes dark beneath his mask.

“She is not yours,” Ghost growled in a low, dangerous tone, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you're making a mistake thinking otherwise.”

Wolf chuckled softly, a smug smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t intimidated by Ghost’s cold demeanor. In fact, he thrived on pushing his brother’s buttons.

“Look, Ghost. She is mine. She takes my gifts. And right now, she’s wearing red lingerie that I gifted to her,” Wolf said with a dark glint in his eyes.

Ghost froze. His grip tightened around his coffee mug, his knuckles turning white as his mind processed the words. Red lingerie? The image of you, innocent and kind, accepting something so intimate from Wolf made his blood boil. He could barely contain his jealousy and disgust at the thought.

“You gave her what?” Ghost hissed through clenched teeth, the anger evident in every syllable. His hand shook slightly as he forced himself to stay seated.

“I have a deal for you,” Wolf continued, ignoring the fury radiating from his brother.

Ghost narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, his body tense as he spoke. “What kind of deal?”

Wolf’s grin widened, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s a virgin, Simon. We share her tonight.”

The words hung in the air like a toxic cloud. Ghost’s eyes widened, disbelief and disgust swirling within him. The idea of sharing you—you—with his twisted brother - was so repulsive that it nearly made him lunge across the table. His fists clenched tightly as he forced himself to breathe, trying to keep control.

“Absolutely not,” Ghost spat, his voice low and threatening. “She is not a piece of property to be shared. We will not be doing that.”

Wolf’s smirk didn’t falter, his eyes gleaming with amusement as if he enjoyed watching Ghost struggle with his emotions. “We will… I will make you do that. You know what I can do, Simon. She’s mine. You can ask her, and she will do anything for me. Even lose her virginity to you.”

Ghost’s jaw clenched painfully as his brother continued, pushing and taunting. He knew Wolf was a manipulative bastard, but this was beyond anything he could have imagined. The thought of you being coerced into something so twisted made his stomach churn.

“I don’t care what she’d do for you,” Ghost growled, his voice barely controlled. “And I definitely don’t believe she’d want to share herself like that. You need to back off, Wolf. She’s not yours, and she never will be.”

“She is,” Wolf insisted, his voice dark and laced with certainty. “She didn’t tell you, did she? She’s my little vixen. But she’s still untouched. I want you to claim her first, Simon. After all, you’re my dear brother. And you know I’m kind of… rough.”

Ghost’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind spinning with the sickening implications. This was a game to Wolf, some twisted, perverse fantasy that he wanted to drag Ghost into. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Not with you.

“No,” Ghost said firmly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “I won’t do it. Even if she’s untouched, she’s not some prize to be claimed. She’s a person, and I won’t treat her like some object for your sick entertainment.”

Wolf’s grin faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer. “And what if she agrees?”

Ghost stared at him, his stomach dropping. Could you? Would you?

“I need to talk to her first,” Ghost said slowly, his voice strained with conflicting emotions. He didn’t believe for a second that you’d willingly agree to something like this, but if Wolf had manipulated you…

Wolf’s smirk returned, a victorious gleam in his eyes. “You’ll see, Simon. She’ll agree. And tonight, we’ll go to her room, and she’ll submit.”

Ghost stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as his temper flared. He had never wanted to punch his brother more than he did in that moment. “Why are you so hell-bent on this?” he snapped. “Can’t you see how messed up this is? You’re trying to manipulate us both, and I won’t let you get your way.”

Wolf stood too, looming over Ghost with that same twisted smile. “You will, Simon. And so will she. It’s only a matter of time.” He paused, his voice lowering to a dark, mocking tone. “She wants you, you know. She just won’t admit it. She’s been parading around in those skimpy clothes, trying to get your attention.”

Ghost’s breathing became ragged as he fought to control his anger. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of Wolf’s mouth. “You can’t make us do this,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “And you can’t treat her like a piece of meat. She’s a person, damn it.”

Wolf’s laughter was dark and unsettling. “She’ll agree, Simon. She’s cheating on me in her heart, so I’ll let her get laid by my own brother. Consider it a twisted little gift.”

Ghost felt his stomach twist. He couldn’t stand the way Wolf was talking about you, like you were some toy to be passed around. But more than anything, he hated the nagging fear that maybe, just maybe, Wolf was right about how you felt.

Wolf’s voice turned cold as he stepped toward the door. “Tonight, Simon. You’ll see.”

And with that, he left, the door closing with a heavy thud, leaving Ghost alone with the storm of emotions raging inside him.

Ghost stood outside your door, his heart pounding in his chest. The quiet knock had shattered the silence of the night, but the seconds dragged on, making him wonder if you were awake. His mind swirled with doubts and conflicted thoughts. Was this the right thing to do?

Finally, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open. There you stood, dressed in a long black silk nightgown, the fabric clinging to your body in a way that made Ghost’s heart race even faster.

"Can I come in?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You nodded silently, stepping aside to let him enter. The air between you was thick with tension, the night pressing in on both of you. Ghost walked in, his eyes unwilling to leave yours, but every fiber of him was aware of how the silk moved against your skin. He swallowed hard, trying to focus.

"You want to talk about something?" you asked, your voice soft, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Ghost replied, his voice gravelly. "There’s something I need to ask you."

"Ask away."

He hesitated, the question weighing heavily on him. "Wolf told me something... about you."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

Ghost’s voice lowered, almost a whisper. "He said you and him were intimate... that you’re not a virgin."

Your eyes widened in shock, anger flashing across your face. "What? I don’t even know him like that. No, that’s not true."

Ghost stared at you, relief flooding through him. He could see the sincerity in your eyes. "You don’t?" he asked, almost disbelieving.

"No, I don’t," you replied firmly.

His mind raced. Why would Wolf lie about something like this? He paced the room, frustration and confusion mixing with relief.

"He told me that if you agreed to... be with us, together..." Ghost struggled with the words, his voice breaking. "He asked me to claim you with him."

Your shock was palpable. "What the hell? Is he serious? How could he even think like that?"

"I don’t know," Ghost growled, his expression darkening. "It’s twisted. Sick."

He stepped closer to you, mere inches away now. His voice was barely a whisper. "I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to share you. Especially not with him."

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, sharp and taunting. Ghost froze, dread creeping up his spine.

"Who is it?" he called out, his voice tense.

"Who do you think, bro?" came the smug voice from the other side. Wolf.

Ghost clenched his fists, his anger rising. "What do you want?"

"I heard you talking," Wolf said, sounding amused. "I thought you would’ve started by now."

Ghost growled, barely keeping his composure. "She doesn’t want this. It’s not happening."

There was a pause before Wolf spoke again, this time with more irritation. "Don’t be shy, Simon. I know you want her."

Ghost’s temper snapped. "I’m not sharing her. And she doesn’t want you either."

"Open the door," Wolf ordered, his tone darkening.

For a long moment, Ghost hesitated, torn between his desire to protect you and his anger at his brother. Finally, with a low growl, he unlocked the door.

Wolf stepped into the room, his eyes gleaming with malice and desire. "Well, well," he smirked, "looks like we’re ready to get started."

Ghost’s body tensed, his fists clenching. "We’re not doing this," he said, voice low and dangerous.

"Let’s not pretend," Wolf cut him off. "You want her. You’ve always wanted her. And she wants us both."

Wolf’s eyes flicked toward you, his gaze dark and predatory. "Right, princess?"

You moved toward the door, but Wolf’s hand shot out, gripping your arm with a force that made you wince.

"Where do you think you’re going?" he sneered, pulling you toward him.

Ghost’s anger flared. "Let go of her!" he demanded, stepping forward.

"Not until she agrees to play along," Wolf replied, his grip tightening. He looked into your eyes, a sinister smile curling his lips. "Come on, baby doll. I know you want this."

"Why are you doing this?" you whispered, your voice trembling.

Wolf’s grin widened. "Because I can. Because it’s fun. And because deep down, I know you want us."

He pulled you closer, his body pressed against yours, his eyes filled with lust. Ghost’s rage grew as he watched Wolf’s fingers trail down your arm, his touch invasive and wrong.

"Let her go," Ghost repeated, his voice shaking with barely controlled fury.

"Make me," Wolf taunted, running his fingers through your hair. He leaned in, his lips brushing your neck, his hands tugging at the rope of your nightgown. Slowly, he loosened it, the fabric slipping down your body.

"C’mon, Simon," Wolf said, his voice filled with smug satisfaction. "She’s yours too."

Ghost's breath caught in his throat. He could see the flicker of fear in your eyes, but there was something else, a vulnerability that only deepened his protective instincts.

"She’s not a toy," Ghost growled, stepping closer, his fists shaking with the need to hit his brother.

Wolf ignored him, placing wet kisses along your neck. You bit your lip, eyes fluttering shut in discomfort. Ghost’s jaw clenched.

"I said, let her go!"

Ghost's throat tightened as he watched Wolf's lips trail across your skin, leaving wet kisses on your neck. His jaw clenched at the sight, his body torn between desire and rage.

"She's not a piece of meat, Wolf," Ghost growled, fists trembling at his sides. "I'm not going to use her like you do."

Wolf grinned, his hand sliding through your hair and pulling you closer. "Fine by me. I'll have her all to myself, then."

Your body arched under Wolf’s touch as he continued to kiss and squeeze you, leaving Ghost to watch helplessly. His jealousy gnawed at him, and despite the disgust he felt for Wolf's actions, the sight of you, vulnerable yet tantalizing, unraveled him.

Ghost’s breath hitched when Wolf’s hand brazenly moved to your chest, squeezing your breast, making you moan. He bit down on his anger and stepped closer. "This is wrong, Wolf. You can’t do this."

Wolf, unbothered, tugged at the straps of your nightgown, letting the fabric pool at your feet. Ghost’s eyes darkened as he saw your exposed body. His mind raced, and for a moment, his need to protect you was overshadowed by a primal urge to claim you for himself.

"You’re going to regret this," Ghost muttered through gritted teeth.

"Then do something about it," Wolf taunted, grabbing Ghost’s hand and placing it on your breast. Ghost’s heart pounded as he squeezed, feeling the softness of your skin against his gloved hand.

His body trembled with desire as he felt your warmth beneath his fingers, torn between the need to protect you and the undeniable pull of his own lust. Wolf’s words barely registered as Ghost’s mind clouded with need, his hand instinctively tracing your curves. The boundaries between rage and desire blurred as he found himself pulled deeper into the moment, unable to resist any longer.

Ghost’s lips hovered just inches from your skin, the heat of his breath mixing with the tension thick in the air. His gaze flicked between you and Wolf, anger and desire warring in his chest. But when his eyes locked on yours, there was no turning back.

He leaned in, capturing your neck with hungry kisses, his hand firmly cupping your breast. His fingers tightened, feeling the softness of your skin, and your breath hitched in response. Ghost’s restraint unraveled, and he let himself go, pressing his body against yours, his need palpable.

A low growl escaped him as he heard your soft moan, and he kissed you harder, more urgently. His hand slid lower, dipping beneath your delicate lace underwear, finding your wet folds with practiced ease. A shudder ran through him as he touched you, your body arching in response.

"Already so wet," Ghost murmured against your skin, his voice dark and possessive.

His fingers moved slowly at first, teasing, exploring, as his lips claimed your breasts. Each moan you let out only spurred him on, his body completely consumed by the need to have you, to make you his.

He lifted you by your thighs, handing you over to wolf. "Hold her tight, Wolf." He said, parting your legs.

His gaze was dark with intent as he knelt before you, his hands gripping your trembling thighs. He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin, and you could barely breathe from the anticipation. Without breaking eye contact, he whispered, "I'm going to taste you now," the promise in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

His mouth found your sensitive core, lips and tongue working with a precision that made you moan instantly. Each flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure through you, your body arching involuntarily. Wolf's grip on you tightened, holding you steady as your thighs trembled, his lips capturing yours to swallow the sounds of your pleasure.

Ghost continued his assault, his tongue exploring every inch of you with a fierce hunger, his low growls vibrating against your skin. "You taste like honey," he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with desire. His fingers parted you further, giving him full access as he ravished you with unrelenting intensity.

Your body writhed between the two of them, your moans muffled by Wolf’s mouth as Ghost pushed you to the edge, the sensations overwhelming, your mind clouded by the intensity of their touch.

As Ghost's tongue works its magic, Wolf's hand reaches down to join Ghost's fingers, spreading you even wider for their dual assault.

Ghost looked up, his eyes meeting Wolf's over your body. They shared a moment of understanding, a silent agreement to drive you mad with pleasure.

Wolf's gaze locked onto Ghost's as he began to move his fingers in sync with Ghost's tongue, the dual penetration sending you hurtling towards a climax. Ghost increased the pace of his tongue, his lips sucking gently on your clit as Wolf's fingers curled inside you, stroking your inner walls.

Your breathing grew ragged, your chest heaving as the sensations became too much. Wolf's hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to watch Ghost's face between your thighs. "Look at him," Wolf growled, "See what he's doing to you."

The combined sensations were too much, your body convulsing between them as a wave of intense pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your voice muffled against Wolf's shoulder as Ghost continued to lap at you, drawing out your release until you were boneless and breathless in their arms.

Ghost and Wolf held you tightly, their arms wrapping around your trembling body, holding you against them. They shared a look over your head, a look of triumph and possession.

"You're ours now," Ghost growled, his voice low and possessive. "And we're not going to let you go anytime soon."

Take her now. Wolf said.

Ghost looked up at him, a hint of surprise on his face. "You sure about that?"

Wolf nodded, a smirk on his face. "Absolutely. I want to see this."

A slow, predatory grin spread across Ghost's face. He laid you down on the bed, his eyes roaming over your body appreciatively. He climbed onto the mattress, positioning himself between your legs, his body hard and ready. "Look at me, love," he murmured, his voice low.

Ghost looked down at you, his eyes filled with hunger. He wanted you, wanted to claim you completely. He gave a small nod before shifting his position, lifting you up and positioning you carefully.

He looked down at you, his eyes meeting yours. He waited a moment, letting the tension build, before speaking again. "I want you, darling. I want all of you. And I'm going to take my time."

"Open up," Ghost instructed, his voice ragged as he slowly pushed into you. He gave you time to adjust, his eyes locked onto yours as he filled you inch by inch. "Wolf wanted to see me take you,"

You could feel the heat between you, the way your bodies fit together perfectly. Ghost was in complete control, the air heavy with tension and desire.

Ghost slowly began to move, his hips rolling against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He savored the feeling of being inside you, the warmth and tightness that only you provided. He looked up at Wolf, who was standing beside the bed, his eyes glued to the scene unfolding before him.

Wolf's gaze was intense, his eyes fixed on the two of you. He was watching every move, every contour, every expression. He was enjoying the view, the way Ghost was claiming you, marking you as his.

"Touch her," Ghost rasped, looking up at Wolf. "I want to see you touch her while I'm inside her." Wolf leaned over, his hand cupping your breast, his thumb teasing the peak.

Your body responded instantly, arching into his touch, your breath catching in your throat. Ghost continued to move, his thrusts growing harder, more demanding.

As Wolf played with your breasts, Ghost increased his pace, his hips snapping forward as he drove into you. His breathing grew heavier, his grunts punctuating the rhythm of his movements. "You feel so good, love," he hissed, burying his face in your neck. "So good..."

Wolf leaned in, capturing your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. He swallowed your moans, his tongue dueling with yours as Ghost's pace quickened. The room was filled with the sound of your combined moans, the creaking of the bed, and the rough grunts of the men claiming you.

Wolf's hand moved down from your breast, tracing down your stomach, lingering on your hip. He was watching you two intently, his eyes smoldering.

Ghost's movements became more urgent, his body moving with a primal need. He wanted you, all of you, and he wasn't going to hold back anymore.

He pulled back, his eyes meeting Wolf's over your head as they continued to share you. He knew that the two of them working together would drive you wild, make you come undone. It was a power trip for both of them, a game of possession and dominance.

"Fuck, she's so tight," Ghost groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Wolf, I need you to hold her down. I don't want her to move." Wolf quickly complied, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you back against the bed.

You were helpless now, trapped beneath them, completely at their mercy. They had you exactly where they wanted you, completely surrendered to their control.

Ghost's movements became frantic, his hips slamming against yours as he chased his release. Wolf held you still, his other hand coming up to wrap around Ghost's wrist, guiding his thrusts. "Now, Ghost," Wolf commanded. "Now, fill her up."

"Look at me," Ghost panted, his body tensing as he reached his peak. You looked up at him, your eyes filled with unspent passion. He thrust deep one last time, his body shuddering as he released inside you, filling you with his essence.

Ghost trembled above you, his body spent and sated. His eyes never left yours, his gaze holding you captive.

"We're not done with you yet, love," Wolf whispered.

"It's my turn now." Wolf said.

Ghost chuckled, rolling off you and onto the mattress beside you. "Go ahead," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "She's all yours for now."

Wolf's voice was low, his eyes glinting with unspoken desires. He began to unbuckle his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. "Ghost has had his turn. Now it's my turn to claim you." He pushed his pants down, stepping out of them before climbing onto the bed.

He loomed over you, his body taut and toned, his muscles rippling as he moved. His eyes were fixed on you, a possessive fire burning within them.

You bit your lip, your eyes widening as Wolf positioned himself between your thighs. Ghost shifted beside you, his hand trailing down your side as he watched Wolf prepare to enter you. "You look so eager," Ghost whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "He's going to take you so good, love."

Wolf's eyes locked onto yours, his expression intense and focused. "I'm going to make you scream," he promised, his voice a low rumble. "And you'll love every second of it."

Ghost's hand tightened around your hip, his fingers digging into your skin as he watched Wolf prepare to enter you. He leaned up, pressing a kiss to your mouth as Wolf pushed forward, slowly sinking into your warmth. "Fuck, she's so tight," Wolf groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Ghost watched intently, his eyes never leaving the sight of Wolf inside you. He could feel your body responding, could see the way you trembled beneath them.

As Wolf pounded into you, Ghost reached out and wrapped his hand around his own throbbing length, starting to stroke himself in time with Wolf's thrusts.

"Fuck, look at her," Ghost said, his voice rough with desire. "She's taking you so deep, Wolf. So fucking deep." He reached out, his hand coming down to rest on your stomach as he felt the vibrations of Wolf's thrusts through your body.

Wolf's thrusts grew harder, faster, his grunt of effort filling the room. Ghost could see the sweat beading on his forehead, the muscles in his arms straining as he held your knees apart. "Ghost, she's squeezing me so fucking tight," Wolf gasped out, his voice cracking with pleasure.

Wolf's pace never faltered, his hips pounding into yours with relentless intensity. Ghost could see the sweat beading on your forehead, the way your breasts bounced with each thrust. "I need to touch her," Ghost said, his voice desperate. "I need to feel her while you're inside her."

His pace only intensified, his thrusts becoming brutal and unrelenting. You could feel his cock hitting all the right spots, sending jolts of pleasure through your body with every snap of his hips. Ghost's hand on your stomach tightened, his fingers digging in as he struggled to keep himself under control.

"You're... so... tight," Wolf hissed between clenched teeth, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. "So... warm... so... perfect..." His fingers dug into your thighs, spreading you wider as he increased his pace, his breath hot against your neck.

"Touch her," Wolf grunted, his voice strained with effort. "Make her come on my…" He trailed off, his words devoured by a low moan as he continued to pound into you. Ghost needed no further encouragement.

"She's so close," Ghost hissed, his voice barely a whisper. "Listen to her, Wolf. She's loving every second of it." He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "Come for him, love. Show him how much you love it."

"Come for him," Ghost growled, his voice low and commanding. "Show Wolf what he does to you, love. Show him how much you love having us both like this." His hand slid down, his fingers finding that sensitive nub between your thighs and rubbing in rhythm with Wolf's thrusts.

Your body tensed, your back arching as the overwhelming sensations became too much. Wolf leaned forward, his body covering yours as he continued to drive into you. He captured your cries in a searing kiss, swallowing your screams as he pushed you over the edge. "Good girl,"

"Look at him," Ghost urged again, his voice hoarse with desire. "Look at how he's claiming you. Look at how he's making you his." His fingers stilled, applying just the right amount of pressure as he felt your body tense one final time. "Wolf, she's....."

"Wolf," you moaned, your body arching as Ghost's skilled fingers pushed you closer and closer to the edge. "Oh, god, Wolf!" Your body tensed, your back arching as the waves of pleasure crashed over you.

"That's it, love," Ghost encouraged, his voice hoarse with desire. "Come all over him. Show him what a good girl you are." Wolf's face contorted in pleasure as he felt your inner walls spasm around his hard length.

Wolf buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around you as he found his own release. Ghost's hand slid back up to your belly, his fingers splayed wide as he felt the jerking motions of Wolf's body against his own hand. "That's it," he whispered.

"That's our good girl," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You took us both so well."

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nickfowlerrr · 1 year

Text

the truth is this

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (friends to lovers)

warnings: fluff, kissing, very slightly edging on heavy petting, mention of an erection, no smut but still 18+ only.

words: 2.9k

notes: loosely based on these prompts: platonic forehead kisses starting to give u the feels. LIKE ITS SOMETHING MAGICAL. and "is that really all 'A' is to you?" thank you so much to @anthony-sharma for the request! thank you in advance for reading and as always, feedback and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated!

"So you're telling me you didn't notice the way she was looking at you just now?" Sam asked skeptically.

"I'm telling you I have no idea what you're talking about," Bucky rebuffed, his brows furrowing in agitation.

"Well I do know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about you and her finally pulling your heads out of your asses and realizing you like each other."

"No shit we like each other, Sam. She's one of my best friends."

"Is that really all she is to you?" he questioned pointedly.

Bucky stopped in his retreat as he took in Sam's words. He instantly knew his answer, but still told himself had to think about it. Because although his thoughts were flowing with all of the things you were to him, all things that went way beyond the scope of just friendship, he was still too scared to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else.

Sam watched as Bucky swallowed hard, his jaw tightening and brows furrowed even more. It looked as if he was blinking away his thoughts when he finally looked back at Sam. An annoyed look taking over his features once again. He didn't say anything, just grumbled in response before he continued out of the room.

For nearly three hours after the little confrontation he had with Sam, Bucky raged with himself in the privacy of his own room. His head was swirling and he could barely keep track of what part of him was winning the argument until a knock came on his door.

Not just any knock, your knock. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was expecting you, he had just lost track of time with the internal struggle he had been trying to sort out.

Something changed, though, when he heard you. All thoughts of not acknowledging his feelings, in part to not wreck what he already had with you, went right out the window.. kinda.

He could accept the true depth of his feelings for you, but he'd be damned if he spoke them aloud until he knew that there'd be no shot at hurting your friendship if you didn't feel the same.

Sam's words came back to him as he considered that you didn't. The way she looked at you...

How had you looked at him? Were all the signs there and he was just blind to them? Well, he'd be sure to pay close attention tonight. See if he could see what Sam saw.

He got to the door and opened it for you, greeting you with a smile as you walked into his room and instantly wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. When you pulled back ever so slightly, peering up at him with sparkling eyes, Bucky swore he felt himself get weak in the knees.

Your smile was the most beautiful thing to him. He'd do anything to get one out of you, though he really didn't have to try all that hard. Your usually stoic demeanor, or resting bitch face as Kate had called it, was rarely ever broken; but as the rest of the team noticed long ago, Bucky seemed to have a knack for breaking it quite easily.

It was like you just couldn't help your smile when he was around. You'd always get more talkative and seemed a lot more approachable than when you were alone. It wasn't like you were a mean person, far from it, you just had a bit of an intimidating presence most of the time. You were a quiet person and weren't typically the most open. It wasn't something you put on, it was just your natural disposition. One of the reasons you and Bucky had gotten so close so quickly was because he was one of the only people to not have been put off by your introversion; he wasn't hesitant to talk to you, in fact, the moment he had seen you, he just had this feeling that you and him would get along swell. And he was right.

He'd gone up to you and introduced himself, and you gave him your name with a small smile in return. You and Bucky had a lot in common and though it took you a little while, you soon found yourself more comfortable around Bucky than you had been with anyone else...ever.

You guys could talk for ages and never bore, or you could sit in each other's silence comfortably for hours on end, not needing anything other than each other's company.

Neither of you realized how close you had gotten or how you appeared inseparable until it started getting pointed out by everyone else.

Repeatedly.

Over and over again.

Whether it was playful jokes at your mutual expense during meetings, or pestering whispers in your ears by your friends trying to bring your attentions to what everyone else could already see, to what everyone had seen from the very start of your and Bucky's friendship: That it was so definitely more than just friendship.

He wasn't sure what it was about Sam's comments this time that finally had him taking it seriously. Maybe it was because he felt it too. And truthfully, he always had, but maybe he just couldn't keep pushing the thoughts away. Maybe... maybe it was because he knew deep down, the love he felt for you was way more than just platonic. Maybe he finally realized that he was well and truly in love with you, and maybe he had a bit of hope burning bright that you felt the same way.

Bucky collects himself as he gazes into your eyes, feeling like if he stares too long he'll lose himself to you completely. But he really doesn't think he'd mind one bit. You pretty much have him already.

"So," you breathe as you begrudgingly pull away from his warmth, "did you decide? Movie or tv show?" you ask as you step past him further into his room.

He shuts his door before turning and following you to the kitchenette where you easily find the stash of candy Bucky keeps for your "movie" nights.

"Uhhh, you pick," he says as you pass him once again, heading to the couch and throwing your stockpile of sweets on the coffee table before you as you get comfortable.

"Okay," you agree, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the titles to find something at least halfway decent to put on.

Your eyes flick over to Bucky and you realize he's still wearing the clothes he had on earlier while you're in your pajamas, like you always are on movie night.

"Why are your clothes still on?" you ask as you peer up at him from your spot on the couch.

Bucky's breath catches in his throat as his heart nearly stops beating entirely, heat rising to his cheeks. In the same moment your eyes widen as you hear yourself and your breath stutters for just a second. Why did you say it like that? you chide yourself. Wishful thinking, some other part of your brain snickers. You push the thought away. Inappropriate.

"Huh?" Bucky asks, though he heard you full well.

"I mean, you're not in your pajamas," you clarify.

"Right, yeah, I uh, I was a bit distracted before you got here," he admits as he absentmindedly rubs the back of his neck. "I'm gonna change, you put something on. I'll be right back."

Bucky changes his clothes quickly and returns to you just as you find something to put on.

You watch him enter the room and laugh as you note that you're kinda matching now. You're both in gray sweats and as you wear a black long sleeve v-neck, Bucky has on a short sleeve v-neck in the same color.

Bucky notices as you do, "I swear this wasn't on purpose," he chuckles as he settles down next to you.

You titter as you start the movie and adjust in your seat to get more comfortable. And by more comfortable, you really just meaning scooting over to be closer to Bucky.

Bucky watches you as you move to be closer to him, smiling to himself as he realizes you're trying to be cool about it, trying to not make it too obvious. It's cute, but he really doesn't mind. In fact, the closer you are the happier he is. Your thigh brushes his as you keep a bit of space between your upper body and his chest.

Bucky fights off the urge to grab your legs and pull them into his lap but he can't fight the urge he has to pull you in closer.

His arm comes around your right side as he pulls you into him. You look up at him in a bit of surprise, but he doesn't return your gaze, he keeps his eyes set on the screen before him.

You blink in wonder before you look back at the screen too. You bite your lip to keep from smiling at his unexpected action and settle into his hold, scootching closer as you recline against him and let his hand rest on the curve of your waist meeting your hip.

You feel like you’d been dropping hint after hint, purposefully, these past two weeks after a long night of talking with Sam and Nat when you were finally able to put a name to your feelings; the realization you had entirely fallen for your best friend was maybe a bit pulled out of you by them but it was true nonetheless.

You’d stopped holding yourself back the way you normally did when it came to touches and hugs lately, hoping maybe Bucky would get the hint and you wouldn’t have to say it outright.. at least not first.

Admittedly, you could feel the tiniest bit of awkwardness - or maybe tension was the better word, between you and him at the moment. Not entirely unpleasant, but still it was there. At least it had been for a minute. But soon as Bucky settled his hand on your hip, that all faded as soon as it appeared. It was completely comfortable, it felt right, being this close to him. Though, truthfully, it always felt right when Bucky around.

As you fought your smile and Bucky’s hand gently squeezed your hip unconsciously, your heart warmed. Maybe he was finally picking up on what you were trying to do and hopefully the reason why.

Sam and Nat had been sure to let you know it was obvious that he felt the same for you, but still you were nervous to come right out with it.

Slow and steady, you remind yourself. No need to rush things anyway. You’d rather him come to the same realization you had on his own time, not yours.

But god, you hoped he really felt the same.

Bucky takes a peek down at you once he feels your eyes are off of him. He smiles to himself at how perfect this is. How comfortable you both are with the more intimate touches, despite neither of you bringing it up. It just feels natural.

So natural, he isn't really thinking much when he leans down and places a gentle kiss to your forehead. When he catches himself doing it, he zeros in on your reaction to it. It's not like he hadn't done it before, but any time he had it was usually in parting, as customary for you guys as a hug.

This was clearly more intimate. A show of affection he wanted to give you, no other reason than that.

He admires the soft fluttering of your lashes and the way you lean further into him, letting your head rest on his chest.

For half a second, he sees you worry you've made a mistake as he pulls his arm from around you but when he gently takes hold of your chin and turns you to face him, time seems to stand still as you gaze at one another.

You wait with bated breath as you search his bright eyes that are gleaming down at you. He can hear the change in the rhythm of your heartbeat and as he lets his eyes flit to your lips, he swears he hears the sharp intake of air you breathe as your eyes fall to his own lips before returning to his stare.

The next thing he knows, Bucky is holding your gorgeous face in his hands before he leans in closer and takes your lips in his. It's slow and gentle as he takes his time savoring your first kiss. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers your hands on his as you return the kiss, and it quickly turns a bit more fervent. Like you've both been waiting forever for this exact moment to happen.

You pull your legs up onto the couch as you turn and move closer to Bucky. You're not thinking as you straddle his lap, the kiss only growing deeper and more intent with each second that passes.

Your hands leave Bucky's as you move them to stabilize yourself without full on sitting in his lap, one hand behind his neck and the other on the couch behind him. Bucky's own hands find their place on your hips before he pulls you down, forcing you down on his lap.

You moan into his mouth as he grabs a handful of your ass and you feel him growing slightly beneath you.

You have to break the kiss to breathe, both of you panting heavily as you press your forehead to his, nose to nose as you breathe one another in. You can't help the smile that breaks out on your face as you laugh breathily, gripping his neck as you shake your head in disbelief.

You place a soft kiss to his lips once more as he holds you to him.

"Sorry," Bucky begins, though he looks to be the furthest thing from it as he smiles that charming smile of his. "I just.. I think I've wanted to do that for a while now. It just felt right."

"You don't have to apologize," you smile softly in turn as you play with the stray hairs curled at the nape of his neck. "I think I've wanted you to do that for a while now. And it did," you breathe with a nod, "it definitely felt right."

"I wanna do more of this," he murmurs against your lips after he places another kiss to yours.

"Me too," you agree with a peck of your own. "I think I wanna make out with you," you muse.

One side of his mouth slants up in a smirk as his hands run up your sides, "I think I want you to make out with me, too," he says, amused before going in for another kiss. You both smile into it and you swear your heart is near bursting as your tummy flutters in your happiness.

"There's something I need to tell you first," he says seriously as he parts just slightly from you.

His hands rubbing up and down your back keep you from worrying as he effortlessly soothes you.

He maintains eye contact as you wait for him to continue.

"I think, - no, I know," he corrects himself. "I love you," he breathes your name as part of his confession.

You move your hand from the couch and gently hold his stubbly cheek instead, thumb rubbing over the skin of his cheek softly.

You smile again, holding his eye as you lean into him before you kiss him slow and deep, trying to get all of the things you're feeling across to him, but most namely, the main one. The love.

You part from him gently as he follows you, mindlessly chasing your lips before catching himself.

He blinks up at you as you perch over him slightly.

"I love you, too, Buck," you nearly whisper as you caress his cheek. "This doesn't change anything, ya know," you add.

He furrows his brow in slight confusion at your words.

You laugh lightly at his expression before continuing, "You're still my best friend. Nothing's gonna change that."

"Wouldn't expect it to," he smiles.

It's quiet between you for a moment before you speak again.

"Promise," you urge softly.

"Promise?"

"Promise nothing's gonna change that," you say as you look down at his chest, moving your idle hand to play with the chain you find there.

"I promise, hey" he says sincerely as he puts two fingers under your chin and has you meet his eye once more, "I promise."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't," he reassures you before suddenly turning you both and flipping you on your back as he leans over you. You gaze up at him a little breathless as you titter.

"Okay," you whisper your trust, your arms reaching up to wrap around his thick neck, pulling him down closer to you.

"Okay," he echos before brushing his lips against yours once more.

The movie is long forgotten as you and Bucky spend the rest of the night completely wrapped up in one another. Talking, touching, just being with each other. The way you were always meant to. It was comfortable, easy. And you couldn't ask for more as you felt entirely whole and at peace in his strong arms promising to never let you go.

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes drabble #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x reader #best friend!bucky x reader #friends to lovers #another day another drabble that turns into a oneshot despite my best efforts #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic

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filmofhybe · 10 months

Text

new written series ! — by filmofhybe.

IN EVERY MULTIVERSE

in which

> y/n was a young girl who believed in the multiverse. Believed that in each multiverse your in, something special or memorable would happen. What if she figures out a way to travel through each and every multiverse she would be in, and meet seven different boys that captures her eyes. Which she sadly can’t seem to get them off her mind at the end of every Adventure.Will she ever meet them again in her every multiverse?

PAIRING : ot7! x reader

🥥 GENRE : friends to lovers , academic rivals , streamer x streamer , stranger to lover , patient x doctor , singer x dancer , café owner x regular customer , coming of age

WARNINGS : angst , swearing , kissing , romance , kys jokes , dad jokes lmao

🗯️ FEATURING: enhypen obvi , rei - ive , K & Jo - &team , Yunjin - Le Sserafim , Sana - twice , Hanbin - ZB1

TAGLIST : feel free to comment to be added :)

STATUS : every Friday :) (hopefully…)

The perfect blend - YJW

synopsis : can you ever imagine in this multiverse, you having the biggest fattest crush on your best friend - Yang jungwon, however knowing he already has a “girlfriend” hurts more than just a sting from a bee.

warnings : angst (100%) , fluff , crying , kissing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

video our love - LHS

synopsis : you were extremely camera shy in the actual world, so what makes you be so confident in front of millions across the world while facing towards the camera with your lover - Lee heeseung.

warnings: kissing , slight angst towards end (not much tho) , tooth rooting fluff

Healing hearts - PJS

synopsis : doctors and patients aren’t suppose to have romantics love towards each other. However, in this multiverse, your very much in love with you hot doctor - Park Jeongseong. Whose secretly trying to heal your broken heart..

warnings : kissing , tooth rotting fluff (cheer cuz there isn’t any angst on this one WOOHOO!!)

Academic Enmity Rivalry - JS

synopsis : all the studying just to make your parents proud until your biggest academic rival - Sim Jaehyun decides to have the biggest academic comeback. And offering you free legit tutoring lessons so you can beat him

Warnings : tooth rotting fluff , kissing , begging

Amidst Crowns - PSH

synopsis : crazy to think about how your a Royal in this multiverse, only for the crazy self-obsessed prince himself - Park Sunghoon to hit on you 24/7. Finding it annoying you decided to throw insults at him, not knowing the consequence.

warning : insult comments , fluff , slight angst , crying

Brewing Love - KSN

synopsis : now your a café owner?? Serving your favorite regular customer- Kim Sunoo everyday was the highlight of your day. Realizing you were falling for him before he starts bringing in girls, crushing your heart as you can’t handle it.

Warning : ANGST (I mean heavy) , kinda fluff , kiss on hand

Melodies of music & love - NR

synopsis : the last and final multiverse , your a singer to your lover dancer - Nishimura Riki. Promised to Perform together until realizing it isn’t your passion anymore. Maybe you want to continue in this universe and never go back… but how when you miss every boy you met in the other 6 multiverse..?

warning : sweet fluff , comfort , angsty (at the end.)

TBA….

SERIES TAGLIST : @enhaz1 @dubuii @in-somnias-world @ultimatestayandminoronce @yenqa @euncsace @hoondiors @yannew @mrchweeee @ariadores @oldjws @frukkoneeeeg @dimplewonie @seobstarr @asteria-wood (white = i cant tag)

; AUTHORS NOTES : since is December 1st on Friday , I would be updating this series every Friday leading up to January-February (or even earlier than that) . I hope you guys enjoy this series as much as I do. Don’t hesitate to ask to be on the taglist by commenting!! I love you all and hope you enjoy this series that’s going to be delivered to you soon :)

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adventuringblind · 11 months

Note

Hello darling🫶🏼 I hope everything is okay🥹 I love the way you write, it’s sooo feel so real!

I have a request Lando x fem!reader, were she is Italian and she’s working for another team. So they live this relationship for so long distant, and she can’t go at every race as a McLaren supporter, but , and that’s situation make the things between them very difficult. So at some point, when everything looks like an end, he decide to ask her to live with him in Monaco.

Idk I feel this a little bit angst but happy in the end.🥺🥺

Thanks for all of your works, are amazing😍

Monaco Bound

Lando Norris x Ferrari Reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Summary: Lando is lonely, and Refer thinks he doesn't want her around. Turns out Lando just doesn't know how to ask. Featuring Max being blunt and the Ferrari boys trying to be emotional support.

Warnings: miscommunication, Lando is anxious, reader is so confused

Notes: Just so you are all aware, I am getting to requests! I've been working on the series more, as well as my works on AO3. Sorry it's taking so long, everyone!

Masterlist

Everyone says long distance is difficult. And when your partner needs physical contact and quality time, they really aren't joking.

Her and Lando had been making long-distance work for the last year and a half. Her living in Italy for work and Lando living in Monaco. Sure, they see each other in at races, but working for different teams really doesn't help anything.

Hope came in the form of teleworking. Finally, they'd managed to make it so she could do work from home, working remotely from the factory.

Did she tell Lando? Yes. Was she hoping to move to Monaco with him? Also, yes. But she also didn't want to just straight up ask him. That could make him uncomfortable, and then it would be awkward. Instead, she leaves it alone. Patiently waiting for Lando to maybe ask her.

On the other side of things, Lando could not decide whether his girlfriend simply isn't into him anymore, he had done something wrong, or she's just shy. He wants her to come live with him. To the point where he has broken down over in when he's alone in bed at night.

The next race weekend, he caught her talking with Charles and Carlos. Knawing insecurities creeping their way up his throat. He avoided all three for the rest of the day.

No phone calls were answered. No texts responded to. Always going to opposite direction. Was he being petty? Possibly, but he needed to think this through.

That night, he's shocked when Max comes knocking at his door. Lando opens the door and greets his friend cheerfully. Max though, looks solem.

"Wanna talk about why your girlfriend is acting like she's killed you?"

Lando's face dropped. "What?"

Max shoves past him and takes a seat in one of the chairs at the small table. "Carlos and Charles are worried also. They tried consoling her, but she's hysterical mate. Thinks you don't love her or something."

Again, Lando's face drops. She thinks he doesn't love her? She believes she did something wrong? He's misread this situation entirely.

"I- I thought that - that she was falling out of love." He admits. His face turns away from Max to the floor.

"She was raving to Carlos and Charles that she's finally able to work from home and wants to live in Monaco with you, but you hadn't asked."

"Why didn't she ask to live with me?"

"Maybe she didn't want to seem rude?"

And suddenly Lando is running out the door. Sprinting to his car to get to the hotel he knows she's staying at. With the room number she'd given late last night when she arrived.

It's a blur, really, the trip from point A to point B. He doesn't come back to reality until he's staring at her door. He can hear the muffled sobs on the other side.

He knocks. She opens. They collapse into each other.

"I thought you didn't want to come live with me."

"You idiot. Of course I want to live with you! I love you!"

"I'm your idiot."

Does she move to Monaco? Yes. Is Lando like a koala bear clinging to her every second of the day? Absolutely.

But she wouldn't trade it for the world.

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matchesarelit · 6 months

Text

Imagine If You Will... Just Us (Lars Pinfield X gn!Reader)

Prompts: “I thought it was going to be just us today” from @pookie-and-cereal's list (here) AND #17, #28 and #30 from @thelonelyempath's list (here).

W.C: ~3k

Warnings: Gary gets typical 3rd wheel treatment, science flirting (it's real bad),

Coming back from Ray's, your arms were killing, turns out hiking over an hour over public transport with more than ten kilos of, for a lack of a better word, junk, was not the brightest idea. Lars had texted you late last night, gushing over the newest adaptions he'd make to the extractor; how much time was saved on every use, how low the resistance rate was etc.

So naturally, when he invited you to come in on the weekend to try it out, your reply could have broken the sound barrier, if it weren't a text that is. You weren't exactly in his realm in regards to ghostbusting science, now don't get me wrong you did ghost bust on occasion, but your main focus was on the PR end of Ghost Corps. Yes, it is a very stressful job. That being so, you weren't sure why he'd chosen to invite you, surely another scientist would be able to understand it better.

Well, who truly cares... you were getting the rare chance to witness his dorky joy and that was not something you were going to turn down.

Finally trudging in through the main doors, you let out a grievous grunt as you dropped the box of trinkets onto a nearby trolley. Tugging it along behind you as you made your way to the main lab, you waved as you always did towards the enclosed ghosts in the hallway. Finally setting sights on the elaborate workspaces of the many scientists that work crammed into the space, you allowed your smile to overtake your features, eager as always to see Lars in his natural environment.

You'd first met when you stated on the G.C PR team, you'd been eager to set up a web page for the Ghostbusters with a page profile for all involved scientists. Winston had had you meet them all here in the lab, Lars was one of the first you'd met and you'd gotten along immediately.

"Heyo! I think you're gonna have to send Ray a gift basket with the amount of stuff he gave us-" Your rattled-out greeting was cut short as your eyes fell on the pair of men huddled by one of the desks. As they turned to greet you, you felt your steps slow, the air felt dense against your movements. Lars had forced out a smile that had no hopes of reaching his eyes, while the man by his side, Gary Grooberson, seemed to be dripping in ecstatic energy as he jogged over to meet you by the steps.

As he lifted the front end of the trolley and helped you carry it down, your eyes fell back on Lars, he was once again facing away from you and he'd retreated to the large mechanical focus of your visit. His hands were busy doing, what even you could tell from across the room, was absolutely nothing.

Cutting your study short, Gary captured you in a hug, it was as it always is; warm and comforting and definitely more for him than it was for you. You had time and time again succeeded in putting a good spin on whatever ruckus his family had created, so he was by no means a new acquaintance, neither was his proclivity for hugs a surprise.

Gary's greeting however flew right past your ears, tearing your focus away from the man on the other side of the space was proving much too difficult. To your luck however, you managed a gentle greeting and casual inquiry of how his family was doing before a notable amount of time had passed.

With a conscious effort you set your eyes on Gary, resolved to focus on the conversation at hand, the man before you was a friend after all. As the conversation continued, small updates about how the Spenglers and co were doing outside of the ghost busts filled the next half hour, before the dialogue began to stall.

Until, Gary, ever the extrovert, started to rifle through the box you'd brought in,

'So, are you as excited for today as I am? It sounds like Lars has been making absolute leaps and bounds with this stuff.'

Now, you wouldn't say you were projecting your voice when you spoke up, nonetheless, it definitely wasn't a normal speaking level. 'Yeah! I can't wait to see what he's been up to...' You trailed off as you glanced towards where Lars still stood, his back to the two of you but his hands had now stilled in place, a change you all but reveled in.

Lars wasn't a guy who enjoyed being alone all to much, you'd been able to gather as such within moments of meeting him. Luckily, that first time, you'd caught him on a good day; when talking about his work, rather than doing it, was pretty much exactly what he wanted to do. He'd tried to come across as a sort of stoic and while it was clear he did enjoy the solitude, the way he interacted with his peers made it crystal clear how much he also enjoyed such conversations.

That was part of why his actions today seemed so strange... You weren't exactly his peer as a scientist, but you knew enough about ghosts and he'd shared similar achievements with you in the past, not to mention the fact that he, himself, had invited you here only last night.

As for Gary, he was a scientific man himself, so why the Lars wasn't chatting happily with him about the newest changes to the mechanism was a mystery to say the least.

You'd hate to admit it, although it wasn't hard to notice by any means, you'd obliviously thought it was just going to be the two of you. So it took some quick metal re-wiring upon realizing you wouldn't just be able to fawn so freely over the unsuspecting scientist as you often did.

In that moment you'd felt bad, noting that both of you were acting strange and that that couldn't have been too fun for Gary.

Although... you considered perhaps Lars was simply overthinking his progress, now that his audience was present. Maybe he just needed a little push to start, like one of those old timey planes.

'Lars' Your call cracked through the silence of the facility, your voice finally tugging the man in question to turn on the spot. 'Come on Science-man, show us what you've got!'

He shook his head slightly in a sort of incredulity as he turned back around, your shoulders fell slightly, but only momentarily as his voice soon bounced around the room.

'Come on then'

Your eager smile reappeared on your face as you beelined towards the large prism like container in the middle of the workplace, where he stood hitting, what you could only assume, were the start up buttons. Your eyes on him, and his eyes on the machine -with you safely in his peripherals- Gary was left to wheel over the box of supplies. His mumblings of something about third wheeling and losing his phone, all but faded to oblivion in your focus.

Stepping back from the small panel and towards yourself and Gary, Lars seemed to pause for a moment, glancing once between you and his chair that sat empty by the control screen. You brushed off the look he'd given as he began to speak, as a mutual offer between him, yourself and Gary, You'd chosen consciously however, to not plop down in it yourself.

Strangely, claiming his seat whenever he stood from it, felt like something you could only do in private, although it usually occurred when ten or so other scientists also occupied the space. You suppose, sitting there; your head in your hand, as you gawk up at him was a lot more obvious when the only other person in the room would be standing mere feet away.

Whilst you turned your own thoughts over in your head, Gary had taken the chair for himself, muttering out a cheeky, 'ya snooze ya lose'. While you were still mulling things over, Gary caught what you didn't; a flash of a glare passing over Lars' features as he paused his explanation.

Choosing to remain comfy, Gary shot the younger scientist a simple smile, before tilting his head in your direction. With one look to you, your in-your-head state was obvious and Lars was talking a step towards you, your name a whisper on his lips.

Snapping out of your thoughts, and meeting his eyes, you immediately rushed out an apology running shaky hands down your face as you promised to listen closely.

From there it was somewhat business as usual, Lars went about explaining his changes, with yourself, and Gary, asking prompting questions every once and a while. You'd resolved to simply enjoy his company as you usually would, extra company be damned. Sorry Gary.

Gaping up at him in the way you always did, you were yet again in awe of Lars. The way his eyes shone a little brighter when the machine worked perfectly and how he would always look eagerly to you a soft smile on his face. Ghost by ghoul, the three of you went about testing for a while, with Lars occasionally ducking his head towards the wiring or control panel to make some small adjustment, only to return with a beaming smile when the following test went by even faster.

Watching him work was always enjoyable. He was always either grinning like a fool or he had that small frown and furrowed brow that graced his features in a moment, usually quite brief, of struggle. All the same, even that echo of a scowl wasn't enough to diminish the glow you swore he gave off. Today was slightly different, there was no lab coat in sight, his goggles hung loosely around his neck and the top half of his jumpsuit had been tied 'round his waist. He seemed relaxed, at least if you ignored the tension that seemed to be holding his body together.

'Amazing' your murmured comment, and the countless like it, were more about him than his machine and whenever you caught his eyes with your own, you hoped he could see that. Gary, on the other hand was completely enthralled by the testing, rattling off compliments of his own with much higher frequency, mentions of the 'stellar efficiency' and 'innovative programming' which, I'm sad to say, went in one ear and out the other. Except, for when he managed to interrupt you in the midst of his enthusiasm, at which point he was met with yet another brief glare from the man of the hour.

The setting sun that bathed the three of you in warm tones of orange and yellow took you by surprise, and a quick glace to the box by your side revealed you had powered through more than three quarters of your supplies. You felt your shoulders fall considerably at this thought, now achingly aware you'd be expected to leave somewhat soon. Shocking you from your melancholy was the loud ring of Lars' phone, some 8-bit version of the Ghostbusters theme you'd set up on his phone some time ago, echoing about the space.

He hurriedly excused himself, and unwitting as usual your eyes lingered on the doorway he'd left through. Until a clambering of legs swung into your own, following them with an eyebrow raised you met Gary's stare as his own eyebrows wiggled fancifully. 'Soooo... I'm gonna get going, Callie just texted-' Catching him in a squinted glare you doubted '-didn't you say you'd lost your phone?'

'um-uh, okay so I'm just a little aware that you guys want to be alone.' His tone was anything but unsure, nevertheless he seemed hesitant to voice his concern.

'No don't go, I'm sorry I-I know I get a bit absorbed seeing him work, but he wants you here!' You'd felt horrible, you weren't aware how obvious you'd been.

'Its okay, I know you didn't mean to... Also I highly doubt Lars is all that happy about me being here.' You opened your mouth to argue but he shook his head simply as he continued. 'Winston invited me after Lars let him know he'd be here today, He didn't know until I got here and that half an hour before you arrived was tense enough.'

You supposed he was right, Lars had seemed pretty off earlier, but surely it wasn't that deep that Gary should leave. 'That's silly though, you're a scientist, if anyone is annoying him by hanging around surely its me... I mean I was asking all those inane questions.'

Your concern was met with the most well meaning, yet still a bit of a brush-off, cackle you'd heard from him, 'Except every one was met with a soft explanation and a confirmation that you understood, which wasn't exactly the response I've been getting. I doubt today was meant to be about the science as anything more than as a justification for inviting you over.'

Your brow furrowed at that, yourself and Lars had hung out before, you supposed it wasn't too frequently and it was usually a work outing where the two of you peeled off for a bit. Even so, why would he feel like he had to justify inviting you over?

'But we're friends, he knows he doesn't have to-' you stopped yourself as his footsteps reverberated through the halls, growing closer by the second.

Mid-way through turning your head to catch the doorway, Gary darted out of his chair. Stealing back your attention as he addressed yourself and you supposed lars, who you could imagine had stopped, lingering at the end of the hall at the other man's outburst. 'I've gotta get going, great seeing you guys... Good luck with the rest of the testing...' He was backing away now, towards the entryway, maneuvering around stray chairs and tables as he went. With a final flourish of a finger gun in Lars' direction, he was crossing the threshold and calling back over his shoulder. '...Not that you need it!'

You found yourself scoffing in disbelief as you continued to watch as the doors swung closed with a slam. Slowly turning on the spot you set sights on Lars. He was making his way over to you, shoulders still higher than usual, tight due to, as far as you could ascertain, the dramatic exit of the older man. Reaching out, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. As the slight weight of your hand settled on him you noted the relaxed fall of his shoulders, a sigh falling from his lips. Content with the slight ease in his demeanor you gave a slight squeeze and a hum of your own.

'So, should we get back to it?' Lars nodded, but otherwise remained completely still until you elected to remove your hand, at which point he spun on the spot and traipsed back over to the machine with a vigor that'd been notably absent all day.

Narrowing your eyes at the man in front of you, you watched as he returned to his regular As Seen On TV type demonstration. Now, with a pep in his step that you always found almost too intoxicating he placed a new object inside the chamber, closed it and started towards the computer.

'Hey, Lars? Can you level with me on something?' you hated to see how his movements stuttered to a halt at your vague interruption, but the question fell from your lips before you could think, 'Do you not like Gary?' His gaze seemed to flutter about the space, until his eyes were screwed shut, a shaky hand messing through his locks as his jaw dropped open, dancing silently in the nonexistent wind until you fixed him with pointed look and he suddenly found some words.

'I don't dislike him he's just very- He's smart it's just- its just that...' he trailed off, seemingly deciding to communicate through a jumpscare like gesture of his hands.

'He's very eager?' he nodded, glad you gotten his meaning, but he stilled when your head tilted ever so slightly.

'So am I.' With that thought your eyes had drifted from his, not shyly to the ground but dazed, as if fixed on some invisible specter only you could see. Your mind grew harsh faster than you'd care to admit, retroactively scanning every interaction with him against some intangible measure of frustration. There were surely times your presence slowed his work, distracting him with conversation or absurd what if's, not to mention the plethora of what you now realized must have been idiotic questions.

Surely he'd been speaking while you re-considered your very existence, but it wasn't until you felt the warmth of his hands on your shoulders that an ounce of sound managed to reach your brain.

'Hey, you okay there? You-you went blank on me.'

'I-um yeah -I just...' You had no clue what to say, how could you? Yeah sorry I was just thinking about how insufferable I must be to you, that came with a little spiraling as a treat.

Gathering that you'd most likely missed his in depth explanation of the difference between yourself and Gary from his perspective, Lars stepped away from you, considering the best way to dissolve the tension evident on your features. 'You and I, Us, we're not just colleagues, you don't just come to me to get new gadgets or answer some question you have... even if you do have a few. We're... something else, but when he's here its like he's extracting facts and figures, all the while you're just trying to understand me, m-my work. Its not his fault I- just I-'

'-Thought it was going to be just us today?' Cutting off his rambling you finally met his eyes. He shrugged nodding slightly as he held your gaze. 'If it makes it better?.. it is now.'

He released a bemused hmmf. 'I'll admit I wasn't the biggest fan of having to fight for your attention today. I'm pretty glad it is just the two of us again. Splitting your focus between me and my work is as much as I can handle.' Shaking your head in amusement at his sudden bluntness, you stepped towards him, a gentle hand against his chest, the eye contact mere inches long as you stood in his orbit.

'You are so oblivious... Trust me Lars there was not a moment that you weren't the nucleus of my afternoon.' A light groan was his only response to your overy-cheesy claim. 'No? what about...' you thought for a moment, tapping a finger to your chin.

'I'm much too weak to resist the gravity of your presence.' he narrowed his eyes at you own, looking for something you couldn't distinguish.

'Is that why you're in so close? My pull is too strong?' He didn't bother to cover the roll of his eyes or the teasing tone in his voice, but the smile that was paired with them was comfort enough to keep you talking.

'Mhmm You're just too enthralling Pinfield, you're gonna have to work on that if you want other people to be able to stand being around us'

Amidst all his scoffing and modest smiling, the blush that spung up across his cheeks was a sight for sore eyes, as his head lowered and he whispered into the paper thin space between you his tone even and resolute;

'Who says I'd ever want that?'

#lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield #ghostbusters frozen empire #gbfe #ghostbusters

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faeriekit · 6 months

Text

Health and Hybrids (XXI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Wonder Woman! Robin! Impulse! Danny! Dick drawings! Who says that occupational therapy and learning a second language can't be fun?

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

EXTRA TW for: vomiting, panic attacks (this chapter only)

Danny can hold a spoon now. He is unstoppable.

So, when the lady isn’t there to feed him dinner (more mush), one of the not-the-lady nurses gives Danny a tray, and lays a mat over his lap so that he can eat without completely messing up his bedsheets.

Eat he does. Slowly. Maybe a little messily, and it’s kind of embarrassing to have to admit to himself that food definitely spills out of his mouth and onto his lap. The doctor/nurse/medical person, whoever they are, turns on the television, and Danny doesn’t try to ask for the remote. The television only gets something like ten channels, and none of them are cartoons at lunch hour.

So. News it is.

Most of the news follows the same cycle; the weather, sports teams Danny can now recognize the colors of, traffic cameras, and events with long, scrolling text to detail the happenings onscreen. There’s something about dogs? That’s fun. The scientist/nurse/tech, whoever they are, says something in the tone of Aaw, aren’t they cute? as puppies run about and wrestle on screen.

Danny kind of misses Cujo. He picks at his bedsheet, and doesn’t say anything.

The dog program transitions away— there’s a bright banner in its place. Danny’s seen it before: it’s something to the equivalent of Breaking News. It’s usually weather, or crime, or something.

Um. But it’s not that. Danny’s spoon drops, because a ROBOT LADY lights up the screen with a glistening silver suit, not unlike the Ecto-Skeleton his parents used to keep in the basement. Or, well…this one might be more streamlined?

Danny shifts. He can’t help. He’s here, in the hospital. Or. Uh. The space…hospital. His body is very broken.

But there’s a robot lady wrecking a town on Earth.

And Danny can fly.

…Could fly. Could have flown. If he was. Well.

Danny’s not well, and his body aches and his hands don’t work and his legs work even less, but there’s people out there who need help. People who are getting shot at with rays and Danny can fight them, and humans can’t. Danny can help. He—

His core throbs. Danny chokes. He pulls at his chest, trying to find some kind of purchase on his medical gown to tug himself—up?? Out?? He can’t fly right now, but maybe—?

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, abide, abide.”

Danny grits his teeth. “Look!” he snaps, and jams a finger at the television. “There’s—look! There’s a giant robot out there punching buildings!”

“Wacie,” the human protests, but at least turns up the volume so that Danny can see better. “Wacie, þær eart firas þær nou.”

What does that mean?!

Danny hasn’t lifted himself in forever. His legs don’t work, but his arms…might.

He presses his palms down to the mattress. He pushes.

There is a liberated fraction of a second where Danny’s whole weight is on his arms.

—And then he comes crashing back to reality, his elbows snapping back into place. His butt slams back onto the bed and the whole frame jitters.

Danny pants. His arms quake.

The medic completely barrels through Danny’s usually meticulously-kept personal bubble, trying to make sure Danny didn’t dislodge his IV or rip his ligaments and tendons or tear his muscles or. Something. Danny barely notices, barely cares, because someone else blasts onto the television screen in a red bathing suit and gold boots.

And suddenly, both the people on screen are fighting. It’s brilliant. It’s bloody—it’s physical, in the way that flesh and bone and metal must be. Danny’s never seen serious fighting like that before.

And the new woman flies.

Danny stares.

She flies. She fights. She wins—narrowly dodging or displacing lasers with something shiny on her arms, and getting long hair singed in the process. In the end, the robot is tethered down with some kind of shiny metal rope, screaming and kicking all the way.

…Danny barely remembers to choke in air. That's so cool.

The medical person says something reassuring, but Danny’s too tired to listen. He watches this new woman take her applause, floating down on nothing but air to meet the reporter and answer questions. She looks poised. Confident. People clap. People shout things out. People smile. People cheer.

…No one is screaming. No one is running.

There are no ghost hunters in the crowd.

Danny’s exhale is manual. So is his inhale. His heart monitors are making all sorts of funky pictures most likely, but that’s not his business—he watches a woman in armor who flies take off into the sky, free to come and go as she pleases.

It…it hurts. It’s so beautiful and so peaceful and gentle and it hurts so much.

His eyes well up with tears. Why did she get this? This…niceness? Everyone had hated him when he'd tried to help—the teachers, Vlad, the town, his parents. They’d hated him! All he ever wanted to do was help like she did!

What made him so different?! Why was it Danny who got hunted down and shot at? Why was it Danny who got kidnapped and taken hostage?!

Tears burn his eyes like fire. It’s got to be the salt. Danny’s strangled whine turns into a choked off sob before he can catch it. His hand goes to his mouth, but he can’t stifle the noise.

He doesn’t want to. He wants to cry. He thinks he deserves it.

The tears come until he is sobbing, crying, wailing—because WHY WHY WHY was it so easy to hurt him?! WHY DID THEY HURT HIM, WHY DID MOM HURT HIM, HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!

A towel appears in his hand. They’re so nice to him here. So much nicer than when Mom and Dad had—

Danny’s cries are as much screams as they are anything else.

There are hands on his shoulder. On his back. Rubbing. Danny wants to shove them off but the lady isn’t here, which means that it’s one of the staff-members who isn’t supposed to touch him. They’re not supposed to touch him in case Danny hurts them but one of them gave Danny a clean towel to scream into and is rubbing his back because he’s crying.

They’re trying to be so nice and gentle but EVERYONE JUST WANTS TO HURT HIM.

They’re smart, though. They notice before Danny does, and have a bucket ready by the time heaving sobs turn into outright vomiting.

At least the mush mostly makes it into the bucket.

…So.

Having a breakdown…sucks.

Danny has to carefully brush his teeth with an extra-soft bristle brush and rinse out his mouth before he gets more water.

Someone is being very nice. There’s artificial fruit punch flavoring in his drink. He wants to feel grateful but he mostly feels dead.

…His eyes slide listlessly across the room. Ha. Dead.

Danny is horizontal and wrung dry and too tired to do anything but pant by the time the lady comes back to his room. She’s in quicker than usual—her gown is sort of sloppy, hair sticking out of her hair net, and she’s still looping her mask around her ear.

She gets down on her knees beside his bed. She asks him if he’s alright.

Danny’s not alright. He isn’t sure he’s been alright in…ages. Ages and ages. Before he was trapped and tied down. Before he was hated. Reviled.

…Before he was Phantom, maybe; before Danny Fenton had died a shocking, senseless death.

Tears try to wring themselves out of his aching eyeballs, but he’s too dry-eyed to cry; the lady make sad, wet eyes for him, and that’s probably enough between the two of them. Danny’s misery is a vast, gaping void, and all he has to show for it is the shovel he’s been digging through all this shit with for the last few years.

The lady brings her hands closer to his hairline, curled fingers hovering in the air. Her word’s don’t mean anything to him, but the gesture is clear: May I?

“…Mm,” Danny agrees. His eyes fall closed when she gently scratches at his scalp with her fingers.

No one’s touched him gently, on purpose, in…ages. When he was little, Dad used to pop him between him and Mom in bed. Mom would brush out Danny’s bangs with her fingers and Dad would hum. It was always something ill-fitting and silly. Guns N’ Roses. Led Zepplin. Santana. Sometimes Jazz would sit with them, crushing him until Dad had to pull him up and out of harm’s way.

In the quarantine lab, hurting him had just been part of the scientific process. What if there was some new discovery under his fat layer? On the other side of his ribs? Nestled between his alveoli?

Danny sniffles. He’s too dry to cry. He blinks invisible dust off of his eyelashes, and focuses on the weird lady who’s with him now.

Up close, when his eyes work, she looks nice. She has blue eyes, like him. Like Dad. They’re kinda…glowy, maybe? Sparkly? They remind him of ice in the Far Frozen—inhumanly brisk, and impossibly clean. She has eye crinkles where she smiles, tan skin making them more defined than their actual depth. Between her hair net and her medical mask, little wisps of black baby hairs shine through.

She pets him. She smiles. Danny isn’t sure why, but. Whatever. Jazz used to insist that human skin-to-skin contact was an essential need, so this is probably, like, also medical care.

Yeah. Danny squints. …Sure.

Whatever. It’s nice.

So Danny gets petted and it’s fine. He almost doesn’t notice the giant gauntlet under the paper sleeve of her gown, but then it’s right in his field of vision, and. Hey. Didn’t he see that on TV, like, an hour ago?

Danny stares.

He can’t actually tell if they’re gold under the pale blue color of the gown, but. The color is certainly some sort of unusually colored metal, cold to the touch even through the paper-like material of the gown.

…He doesn’t want to touch her, or let her know that he’s touching her. But. He brushes the back of his wrist against the bracelet, and it hums against the paper gown between it and his bare skin.

The lady blinks. She looks down at where they made contact, and asks him if he’s alright.

Danny looks away.

She knows she saw him reach out to her, though, so she takes her hand off of his hair (…hey…) and pulls back the sleeve on her gown. “Sest,” she offers. See?

It is the same kind of bracer he saw on TV. Up close he can see the designed etched into it—geometric lines stretching down from her fingers to her elbow, terminating in something structural. Not quite diamonds. Just…strong.

There’s a couple of very, very tiny letters down towards the bottom. His eyes strain when they try to make any sense out of them; they’re too small for him to actually focus on, which sucks.

She steps back, and pushes her sleeves down to show off her gold bracers. She lifts up the hem of her gown, revealing red boots that go waaaay up her thigh. They have the same gold metalwork as she does on the bracers.

Danny just saw those on the television. His eyes widen.

“You—“ he starts, and then remembers their difference in language. He points his hand at the television. “You fought? You were on TV?”

“Hwæt?”

“The TV?” Danny repeats. She doesn’t understand. Danny doesn’t know how to tell her what he means. “The…you were there?”

She looks at him to expand. Danny looks back at her.

…So they just stare at each other silently.

The door cracks open; the person who’d mediated Danny’s breakdown pokes their head in and says something. “Eower feoht wæs an þe box todæge.”

The lady blinks. Danny blinks. Wait. Did they just call the television the box?

“…Box?” Danny clarifies, and lifts a hand to shakily point at the television again.

The lady blinks, and grins. “Yea!” she returns, pumped up. She stands, to the powerful height she’d had on the television—excuse him, the box—and flexes her now-exposed arms to show off massive biceps.

Holy moly. Danny hasn’t seen any bigger biceps on his Dad.

She flexes one arm, the other, both—in front, and behind. If Danny had that much definition, he’d be showing off too! She leaps back impossibly far—and holy crap she can fly— to show off some mock punches at invisible enemies at speeds that Danny would be hard pressed to follow even with supernatural abilities.

He goggles.

She laughs at him, but she doesn’t sound mean—she sounds show-boating and silly, and teasing and playful, but not mean.

She’s like him. She’s not a ghost but she flies and she’s not human. She’s not human just like Danny. Just like that one green guy. Like the fast kid who visits him.

It’s such a relief. It’s so scary. Who are these people? Why are they healing him? Why are they keeping him?? Why do they have access to so many non-human people? What do they want him for? Is Danny supposed to fight like that?

He would fight. If he had to. He’s done it before.

If they make him fight, Danny’s pretty sure he’s going to fall apart like cheap glass.

The lady comes back when Danny goes quiet, her gloved fingers brushing up against his knuckles. The sensation is enough to bring Danny out of his…fog. Sometimes everything is so cloudy and vague. The pain medicine makes it go away, and the pain medicine brings it back.

Danny curls his hand into a shaking fist. He bumps her knuckles against his.

She makes a surprised noise. Danny feels her gently move his fingers, rearranging, moving where his thumb goes—

He huffs out a laugh. His fist wasn’t good enough to her standards. Her fist bump meets his in the middle with a smirk and a laugh, victory written all over her face.

#Whoever told you healing was linear was LYING TO YOU #my boy has PROBLEMS #'he's healing' Physically? Yes!#ngl I got through the whole chapter and wrapped up and started updating this post and THEN went. Wait. Is this a panic attack?#turns out! It is!#health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dcu crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw medical #tw gore #tw body horror

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