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wlwmarvelenthusiast · 3 years

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Turn Your Luck

Summary: After a day filled with bad luck and a series of unfortunate events, Natasha manages to turn your day around

Pairing: Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: None

Words: 6,167

When you woke up in the morning and smacked your big toe off your bed frame, you didn't even think twice of it. It sent a jolt all throughout your foot, but after a few swear words, you were already feeling a little better. You didn't bother making the bed you'd just stood up out of. All your life you'd reasoned that it wouldn't be 24 hours before you just messed it up again. You grabbed a towel and moved into the bathroom. The hot shower made you forget all about the sore toe you'd been sporting only a moment earlier.

You were feeling great when you stepped out of the shower. The warm water had always instilled comfort into your very bones even this early in the morning. You wiped some of the condensation off the mirror to brush your teeth. The tube of toothpaste was completely empty, and the drawer where you usually kept the new ones was also barren. You rolled your eyes at your own irresponsibility, before brushing your teeth without any toothpaste and then using some mouthwash to try and compensate for it. You stepped out of the bathroom.

You got dressed in your favourite white shirt and black pants before making your way into the kitchen. You tossed your phone onto the counter as you passed it on the way to the small kitchen table. You were after the fruit bowl, which was already needing a refill. There were still a few apples left, though, and you were expecting to have one for breakfast. You were mistaken. You pulled the empire apple out of the blue bowl to find the bottom had grown immensely soft and was clearly not in any condition to be eaten. You were disappointed but tossed it into the compost bin and moved on.

Humming a soft tune as you moved, you popped a pod into the single-serve coffee maker and pressed start. You were moving toward the fridge in no time when a strange noise caught your attention. You whirled to face the coffee maker. Instead of the steady stream of coffee you usually got, it was spraying the hot liquid like it was a shaken pop can. You jumped behind the small island, using it as a shield. Thankfully, you'd managed to keep your white shirt safe from the wrath of the coffee. When it stopped, you finally dared step back into the kitchen. The dark liquid was dripping down every nearby surface. You huffed, running some paper towel across the biggest surfaces quickly.

You gave up on the coffee. It seemed you weren't going to get it anyway. You glared at the machine as if it had intentionally smitten you. Instead, you reached into the fridge instead and poured a glass of orange juice for yourself. You sipped it before setting it back onto the countertop. When your phone buzzed and indicated an incoming message, you reached for it. Your elbow hit your glass and it fell onto its side. The orange liquid spilled off the counter and into your white shirt. You gave the mess the middle finger, tossing a dishtowel on it to soak it up, with the intention of actually cleaning it after work. You already had to clean the coffee up anyway.

Any attempt at breakfast was abandoned. After the three kitchen incidents combined, you were convinced you'd be better off heading to some drive-thru on the way to work. Now in a new blue shirt, you grabbed your bag and headed out your front door. You unlocked your car, slid into the driver's seat, and hit the ignition. The car sputtered for a few seconds, before refusing to start. You tried again, and then again, before groaning, taking out your frustration on the steering wheel in front of you. You stood up and stepped back out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind you with much more force than necessary.

Then, it was off to the bus stop. You headed down the sidewalk to the nearest one, pulling out your phone as you walked so you could check your app to find out when the next bus was coming. When you saw big red letters informing you that the bus was halted until further notice, though, you had to refrain from throwing your phone hard into the concrete. You supposed you should have had a little sympathy for those in the accident that had halted your bus, but you couldn't find it in yourself right then. Your morning was not going well.

It was a good thing you hadn't smashed your phone against the sidewalk. It was the only thing you could use to get you to work now. You switched apps and ordered an Uber to come to pick you up. When the driver arrived, you climbed into the back seat and gave him the address of your place of work. He nodded and pressed his foot down on the gas. Your eyes had been glued on your phone, but your gaze flickered at the driver's movement. He was adjusting the mirror and you were absolutely sure he'd angled it to face you a little better. You could have puked when you realized the creep was checking you out. You didn't say anything, at this point just wanting to get to work and be done with it.

You practically sprinted into the building when you arrived. Security didn't seem to mind your rush, having seen your face every day for over three years anyway. You hopped up the stairs two at a time, faster than the elevator would have been able to carry you anyway. When you reached the meeting room door you took a few seconds to catch your breath, not wanting to seem too flustered in your professional environment. When you finally pushed the door open, everyone was rising to their feet. Their eyes all darted up to glance at you. You smiled sheepishly.

"You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry." That was honest. You might have been frustrated, but you hadn't wanted to inconvenience any of your coworkers as well. "I've really had a rough morning."

Your boss nodded. "We've all had those days. I'll send you an email and give you a summary."

You thanked him and left the meeting room with everyone else. You trudged into your office, throwing your bag to the floor, and refraining from slamming the door behind you. You collapsed into your office chair and closed your eyes for a brief moment. But you didn't have time for that. The paperwork on your desk needed your attention. You gave it. The hours you spent on all the files, emails, and documents were the smoothest thing that had happened all day, even if it was mind-numbingly boring and felt absolutely endless. It might have been smooth sailing, but it didn't brighten your spirits at all.

When your phone rang, you reached out blindly until you felt your hand come in contact with it. You shuffled it until it was upright in your hand. You were so completely absorbed in the document that was displayed on your computer screen that you didn't even bother to look at your phone as you fumbled to slide the answer bar. Only when the incessant ringing had finally ceased did you know you'd successfully answered the call. You hesitated before you slowly raised the phone to your ear, eyes still scanning the lines in front of you.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Hun."

Immediately you regretted not checking the caller ID before answering the phone. You could have kicked yourself. In fact, the move was so ridiculously and incredibly stupid that you could have beaten yourself to a pulp. The voice on the other end of the line was familiar, completely unwelcome, and not a surprise after having the day that you were having. You turned away from the screen, resting your elbow on the desk and massaging the migraine that was beginning to form in your forehead. You sighed heavily, sure she heard it.

"Hi," you stated. "What?"

"Hun-"

"Please stop calling me that, I already asked you."

You had asked her that. Multiple times. You'd broken up months ago after she'd broken your heart. Catching her in bed with someone else had left you shattered and unsure if you could trust anyone. You'd been okay for a couple months now after some comfort and reassurance from your best friend, who you were having dinner with tonight. You glanced at the time. Your attention was unfortunately brought back to the girl on the phone, though, when she sighed your name as if she were the one who was hurt. She had no right to be hurt.

"I just-"

"I'm working," you finally said bluntly. "Is it urgent?"

"No. No, I'm sorry. I... I can call you tomorrow."

You wanted to snap and tell her not to bother, but you didn't. You just nodded despite her not being able to see it, said goodbye, and hung up. Once more you were faced with the urge to smash the stupid phone. Once more you fought it, instead shoving it into a drawer so you could ignore it and work on the mountains of paperwork you had to get through before your six o'clock reservations. You got back to it. Soon enough, the information was able to push your ex far from your mind. You didn't want to think about her anyway.

It felt like it had been eons since you'd arrived at work, and yet, according to the clock in the corner of your screen, you still had over an hour until your reservation. You might have slammed your head down onto the desk in front of you had two things not stopped you. The first was the migraine that was still throbbing in your head, and the second was the ringing of your office phone. Even though you knew she couldn't call you on here, you checked the caller ID before you picked up this time. It was the front desk.

"Hey, Tamara. What's up?

"There's someone here for you. She said you're going to miss your reservations."

"Reservations? It's only 4:45."

Tamara hesitated. "Daylight savings. It's 5:45."

You had entirely forgotten about that and even if you hadn't, you would have expected the computer would auto-update something like that. But you had forgotten, and the computer hadn't jumped forward, and now you were going to be late, and you still hadn't turned in the file that you'd promised to turn in today. You groaned in frustration, but transferred the file to a flash drive, shoved it into your bag, and left your office. Clearly, everyone else had remembered the time change, as the office was empty.

You cursed all of your coworkers in your head. You made for the elevator. When you stepped on and hit the button to bring you down to the lobby, you actually crossed your fingers. With your luck, all of the cables on the elevator would snap and you'd plummet all the way to the parking garage and die in a fiery explosion. Thankfully, your little gesture of luck seemed to work, for the doors slid open safe and sound in the lobby. As you stepped out, though, your bag hit the door, and the company ID snapped off and slipped in that tiny little crack between the elevator and the floor and out of sight. You cursed loudly.

You didn't dare shine your flashlight down the crack to try and see how far it'd gone; either your phone would have gone down after it out the doors would have slammed shut on either side of your skull. Neither of those things were a chance you were willing to take. You abandoned your ID and continued to the front desk, letting Tamara know what had happened. She nodded in understanding before pointing out your best friend, who had come to collect you after you'd let her know this morning that you'd taken an Uber to work. You approached her and tapped her shoulder.

"Hey," she said brightly.

"Hey, Nat."

Natasha Romanoff was the best thing to happen to you all day. She was your very best friend. Too, maybe you wanted her to be a little more. She was the most beautiful woman you'd ever laid eyes on, the red waves on her head only accentuating her emerald green irises, which sparkled when she smiled at you. That was only her physical beauty. Though she was, to most everyone that knew her, a tough, scary Avenger, you knew it was a façade. Natasha was the kindest, most generous, selfless, and caring person you'd ever had the pleasure of knowing.

"Tamara tells me you forgot about daylight saving time started last night."

"Shut up," you grumbled.

"Irritable because you lost an hour of sleep?"

"Nat," you said, already feeling bad for snapping at her. You rubbed your head. "I'm not having the greatest of days."

That was how your friendship with Nat was. You both understood that not every day was a good day. She tried to convince you not to compare, but you especially understood that. Natasha had been through hell on Earth when she was a child and you wished with every fibre of your heart that you could bear some of that for her. But you couldn't, and you were sure that if you could have, she wouldn't let you. So instead, you understood the bad days, and in turn, she did too. When you stated that today was one of those days, she turned to you with concern sparkling in those beautiful eyes.

"You okay?" She asked.

Your heart fluttered when her hand took yours.

It was a friendly gesture, of course, but you couldn't help but wish it otherwise. You wanted to hold her hand and have it not be just as a friend. You wanted to be able to intertwine your fingers with hers and squeeze her hand tight and feel that constant touch against her. You didn't want it to be friendly, you wanted it to be more. You wanted it to be so much more. You wanted to call her yours and for her to call you hers. But she was just a friend, and it was far better than nothing.

You hadn't always believed that someone could fall in love without some sort of a romantic relationship leading up to it. Now you realized it didn't need to be romantic. You and Natasha were close. You were closer than you'd ever been with anyone before. Because of that relationship, you knew you loved her. You were head over heels in love with her at this point, and you'd realized that a little while ago when you caught yourself fondly admiring her as she drummed her fingers against the table, deep in thought. It was a habit that had once had the ability to drive you up the wall.

"Hello?" She tried again. Her hand squeezed yours.

Your stomach flipped. "Yeah. I'm alright. Just waiting for my bad luck to run out."

"What happened?"

"What didn't happen?" You scoffed. "My fruit is all spoiled, my coffee maker broke, I spilled orange juice on my favourite white shirt, my car won't start, my bus wasn't running this morning, my Uber driver was a creep, I missed my meeting, I almost missed our reservations, I lost my ID badge and... she-who-must-not-be-named called."

Natasha's eyes darkened, her hand gripped yours tighter, and her gaze moved to meet yours. You took a chance and swiped your thumb over the back of her hand to try and get her to ease the tension out of her muscles. It seemed to work, as she relaxed a little. Her shoulders moved back down, the crease in her eyebrow lessened, she loosened her grip on your hand and exhaled carefully. She nodded in thanks, green eyes once against soft and gentle as she searched your eyes. You knew she was looking for any hint of you being upset. You weren't, though. You were with her.

Natasha hated your ex-girlfriend about a hundred times more than you did. She'd begged you to let her sneak over to her house at night and slash her tires and egg her house. You'd given that a firm no, not wanting Nat to get in any sort of trouble. It was Natasha's idea to never speak her name again, and to burn a bunch of photos and clothes that were left behind at your house. She'd gone so far as to have the bench you'd once carved your names into removed from the park and replaced with a brand new one... on Tony's Starks card, of course.

"What did she want?"

"Dunno. I told her I was busy," you actually laughed a little for the first time that day. "It wasn't exactly a lie. I was swamped today."

"Hey, if Fury is overworking you, I'll kick his ass."

Imagining Natasha kicking Nicholas Fury's ass was utterly amusing. You had no doubt she could, but Fury was a force. She'd kick his ass and the next day half of S.H.I.E.L.D. would be at her doorstep to retaliate. But he was a good boss. It wasn't his fault you'd procrastinated your own work for days. That was on you, and you knew it. So, you shook your head no, he wasn't overworking you. She seemed satisfied by that, but the topic of your ex wasn't dropped yet.

"Next time she calls you can direct her straight to me."

"Tasha, you won't answer."

"Damn right I won't."

You laughed again. It brought a smile to her face too.

With that, you continued on down the street without another word of she-who-must-not-be-named. You had almost reached the restaurant where Natasha had left the reservations when you stepped on something that most definitely was not concrete. If Natasha hadn't had your hand, your leg sliding out from underneath you would have left you on your ass. She held tight to your hand, her other arm catching you around the waist. You had to force yourself from blushing red as a tomato.

You glanced down at what you'd stepped in and could have punched someone. The white paint that was being used on the storefront had spilled onto the sidewalk and of course, you'd stepped in it in your new, black shoes. You scraped the bottom of it off on the sidewalk, grumbling all the while. Natasha had let go of your hand when you'd tugged it away from her to wipe the excess paint on the side of your shoe onto the post of the 'no parking' sign next to you. It was still ruined, but at least you'd gotten enough off that you wouldn't stain the restaurant's floor.

"You weren't kidding with the bad luck, huh?"

You shook your head no. You motioned onward, though. She got the hint, and you closed the distance between you and the restaurant. You shifted your bag on your shoulder as you stepped in, hoping they wouldn't notice the wet paint you were tracking onto their floors. If you managed in and out without them seeing, you'd be alright. It was New York City. You were sure people had walked in with worse things on the underside of their shoes.

You watched Natasha closely as she gave her name for the reservation. You hated how the host eyed her even more than you hated how your Uber driver had eyed you this morning. You didn't want anyone to eye her like that. You wanted to be the only one allowed to look at her like that. You knew you weren't, though. You ripped your gaze away from where it had been travelling along her jawline just in time for the host to arrive and lead you to your table. You sat across from her, keeping your eyes down and you collected your thoughts.

"What are you having?"

When you looked up, her eyes were trained on you. Her eyes were your absolute favourite part of her. They always shone so brightly, and so clearly expressed whatever she was feeling. They sparkled like they could see into your very soul and were so deep you could get lost in them for hours. Even the colour was perfect. They were that amazing shade of green that had very quickly become your favourite colour. You often found you'd been staring into them for a little longer than what might be considered normal. Now was one of those times. You looked back down at the menu.

"I'm not sure. Definitely a drink," you hummed. "Though I might get poisoned."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't think your luck is so bad that your assassin will choose to poison you today."

No, because she would protect you from anything. She always had. You might have been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but she was always stepping in front of you to defend you. You couldn't say you minded. You liked having her at your back. Some people had a physical location where they felt safe. You didn't. Natasha Romanoff was your safe place. When you were with her, you felt like nothing in the world could touch you. She wouldn't let anything hurt you, and you wouldn't let anything hurt her.

Soon enough the waitress was stepping up to your table and taking your order. You gave yours first, opting for a simple fettuccine alfredo. Natasha gave hers, unaware of the way you watched her lips moving as she talked. When the waitress left and she looked back to you, your eyes were cast toward the window, watching a young couple pass by, huddled close together in the cool March evening. When she called for your attention and you gave it immediately, looking over to her. She sipped her wine as you did.

"You said your car wouldn't start?" She said.

"Yeah. It keeps sputtering on and on."

"I'll drive you home and take a look at it tonight. I know a thing or two about cars."

It was a good thing she did, because you knew absolutely nothing about what was going on under the hood of the car. All you could think was that maybe the battery had died on you, but that wasn't possible. If you'd left the lights on, you would have been able to see it through the window in your bedroom the night previous, and you hadn't. There was no other reason the battery could have been drained. You'd driven the car yesterday from your house to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s New York location. You might not have known what the hell was wrong, but Natasha would figure it out in seconds. The thought of her bent over to study the underside of the hood made you shiver.

The image was pushed from your mind when the waitress returned with your food. She placed your pasta down in front of you and you thanked her politely. She set Natasha's down as well. The redhead smiled widely and after double-checking that everything was alright, the server left the two of you to your dinner. Natasha glanced up at you, a very amused smile playing on her lips. You knew exactly what it was about, too. You'd gotten the wrong order and said absolutely nothing of it. Honestly, you didn't really care. At this point in the day, you just wanted to eat.

"You could've said something," Natasha teased.

"It's nothing. I'm hungry and this is just as good."

"We can still say something."

"It's fine," you assured.

"Let's stop and buy you a couple hundred good luck charms on the way back to your place."

You laughed aloud.

Dinner was good, despite having gotten the wrong order. You suspected that was due to Natasha's presence. The two of you had been exchanging stores of the craziest missions you'd ever gone on. Of course, she was winning. She was an Avenger. Your missions as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent were anything but boring, but they didn't compare to the alien invasion last year that Natasha had been at the heart of. You'd been helping from the edges of the city, evacuating civilians and the like, but you suspected she'd killed hundred more of the Chitauri than you did: one.

Before long you'd both finished, and the empty plates were cleared away. The server returned to you with the bill. You made sure your card was out before Natasha could even think about trying to pay. They collected your card, and you gave Natasha a very smug little smirk. She only rolled her eyes and thanked you softly. You thought all was said and done when the server returned. You prepared to leave but she shook her head, signalling you to stop what you were doing. She reached out, handing you your card back. You took it.

"I'm afraid the transaction isn't going through."

It seemed that your bad luck had struck again. You were fully confident that there was enough money in your account. There had been last night when you'd checked it, anyway. Either you'd had the misfortune of your card deciding to kick the bucket while you tried to buy dinner for Natasha, or even worse, someone had gotten into your bank account and cleared it out. That thought made your heart drop into your stomach as you reached for your phone, hardly noticing Natasha pulling out her own credit card this time.

You prayed for one tiny bit of luck today. Your prayers went unanswered. You logged into your online banking to find that someone had managed to get your credit card number and had been online shopping all day. Your card had long hit its limit and you were already dreading the phone call you were about to have with the bank. You huffed as you set your phone down roughly on the tabletop. Natasha glanced over at you as the server took her card this time. She raised an eyebrow. You were sure smoke was billowing from your ears.

"Luck isn't turning yet?"

You didn't answer that. "Thanks for dinner, Natasha."

She laughed. When the server returned her card and wished you both a good evening, she took your hand and dragged you back out the doors onto the noisy streets of New York. She was leading you back to S.H.I.E.L.D., where you knew she must have left her bike. When you got there, she scanned her ID and brought you both down into the parking garage. She brought you right to the motorbike and lifted the helmet off from where it was hanging on the handlebars. She reached out and set it on your head, doing it up underneath your chin. Her fingers brushed your skin as she worked at the straps.

"Normally I would never condone riding without a helmet, but I only have one. This head," she said, rapping her knuckles twice against the helmet on your head. "Is much more important than mine."

"Is not," you laughed. "There's hundreds of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but there's only six Avengers."

"And there's only one you," she insisted. "The helmet stays on that pretty little head of yours, and that's final."

That compliment seemed to awaken the butterflies in your stomach. They were still present when you both climbed onto the bike. They fluttered even more when Natasha told you to put your arms around her and hold tight. You could have stayed like this forever if she'd asked you to. You almost wanted her to ask you to, because you loved the ways your arms fit perfectly around her waist. Facing forward, she wasn't able to see the smile that was growing on your lips. Maybe all that bad luck was to make up for this.

Reluctantly, you took your arms off from around her when she pulled into your driveway. She put the kickstand down and took the helmet once you'd pulled it off and handed it back to her. You straightened out your hair a little bit in the reflection of your car window. Wordlessly, Natasha had moved to the hood of your car and tapped on the red paint to get your attention. You unlocked the car and popped the hood for her. She unhooked the latch and lifted it up, studying the inside carefully. That scene you'd been picturing earlier was coming true before your eyes.

"Start the car for me?"

You nodded. You dropped your bag on the doorstep, digging through the pockets until your hand had closed around your car keys. You withdrew them by tugging on the dinosaur keychain that Natasha had once given you after winning it at the arcade, where you'd spent hours at all the different games. You slid into the front seat, turning on the car when Natasha gave you the thumbs up. The car sputtered loudly. Then it made a sound you might have mistaken for a gunshot. The backfire nearly made you jump out of your seat. You quickly got out.

"You alright, Nat?"

"I'm good," she nodded. She moved away from the car. "It's probably just your spark plugs. When's the last time you had them replaced?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Hell if I know. I drop it off for a tune-up and expect them to tune it up."

Natasha laughed. "I'll grab some tomorrow and replace them for you."

You nodded. You watched as she reached up and grabbed the hood of the car, closing it again. She rubbed her hands against her pants. You clicked a button on your car keys, locking the doors. The lights flashed to indicate that it was indeed secured. You fiddled with the keys in your hand to get the house key out, opening your mouth to invite Natasha in as well, but found you couldn't find the golden key. You growled at nothing and dug through every pocket in your bag to see if it had fallen off in there, but there was no trace of it.

"My house key is missing."

Natasha actually laughed at this. "Did you walk under a ladder this morning? Spill the salt? Break a mirror?"

You glared at her. "Can you help me get in through a window?"

She nodded. You both moved around to one of the windows that you'd left open last night, after telling her you weren't sure you had locked it when you shut it this morning. Indeed, she found that once you'd removed the screen, she was able to slide the window open. You linked your fingers together to make a spot for Natasha to use for leverage. You boosted her through the open window and then moved back to the front door just as you heard the deadbolt slide out of place.

"My hero," you grinned as she opened the door. "I owe you a drink. Come on."

"I still have to drive home."

"Stay the night," you offered. "If you don't, I could very well just get murdered tonight."

Natasha laughed. "Well, I'd better stay and make sure you're okay, then."

You smacked her gently. She knew her way around your small bungalow well, having visited what could have easily been a million times. She made herself at home on the couch, tossing her leather jacket beside her. You moved into the kitchen, only paying half a glance at the towels you'd thrown over the two spilled beverages. You poured the both of you a drink and then brought them into the living room, kicking back on the couch beside her. You grabbed the remote, clicking the TV on. The screen lit up the room. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the beautiful face beside you that had been illuminated. You turned back to the screen.

"I can put Netflix on," you said, pressing a button. "What do you want to watch?"

"Can I test your luck?"

"What?" You responded, turning your full attention to her.

She didn't offer an explanation. You felt her hand touch your thigh. Your breath hitched and the remote almost fell to the floor. You managed to set it down on the table as your cheeks began to burn red. She left her hand there for a few seconds before it slid away, letting you take a moment to remember how to breathe. Her hand moved away and wrapped around her glass. You knew how obvious you were being when you watched her touch the rim to her lips and the slight movements in her neck as she swallowed the alcohol. You needed a drink too, but you were frozen.

"I just mean... I could either turn your luck around or just maintain the bad luck."

You still didn't know what she meant. She was setting her glass down on the coffee table. Her eyes searched yours and you were once again tossed into the sea of green that you were so obsessed with. When she leaned forward and connected your lips, though, you lost sight of emerald green. Her eyes had shut and only a second later, yours had fluttered shut as well. You put a hand on the back of her neck to hold her closer and moved your lips with hers. You wondered briefly if you were dreaming. You didn't have long with your thoughts. Your mind was so overcome with whatever was happening right now.

Natasha pulled back. Her hand had, at some point, moved back onto your thigh, and was resting there gently. Your hand moved to cover it. She flipped hers over so that her fingers could intertwine with yours and for the first time, it didn't feel like it was just in a friendly manner. It felt so much more than that, just liked you'd wanted it to. Your eyes moved from there up to her face. She had been studying you intently. You'd never seen Natasha Romanoff look nervous. Not until that very moment. You chuckled a little, nervousness in your chest as well, and let your eyes fall.

"You definitely turned it," was all you said.

"Yeah?"

"By a long shot. I mean, I think this amount of good luck was enough to actually balance out the bad luck."

You didn't know Natasha could giggle, but she did. The sound made a smile immediately spread over your face. You reached out and took her hands in your own. You leaned forward and kissed her again, infatuated with the feeling of her soft lips pressed against yours so rough and yet somehow so soft. One of your hands pulled out of hers so it could thread through the red waves on her head. You'd wanted to do that for so long. She only pulled back when you'd both lost your breath. Your forehead rested against hers and you could smell the whiskey on her breath.

"Do you know how long I've wanted that?" You breathed.

"I'd guessed it, but I thought it was just my imagination because I wanted the same thing."

You laughed. She put her hands on your shoulders, pushing your back down against the couch and then putting her knees on either side of your waist. Her lips were on yours again, a little hotter this time. You didn't complain. You just let her lean down over you and kiss you and run her hand down your side. You only raised a hand to her chest and pushed her away when you once more felt the need for oxygen burning inside your chest. She didn't move far, face inches from yours, studying you this time from above. You blushed under her gaze.

"I... I've felt really strongly about you for a while," you said, hand moving so you could trace your fingertips across her cheek. "You know what I mean?"

"Are you trying to tell me you love me without saying you love me?" She asked, the teasing back in her voice again. "Because you're not going to scare me off. You can say it if you want."

"I love you, Natasha."

"I love you, too."

You couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't funny in any way, but maybe it was the relief trying to find a way out of your body. The sound seemed to make Natasha's eyes, sparkle. Your heart softened and the laughter fell from your lips and you didn't move a muscle. Her face was so beautiful looking down at you like it was. You felt so right having her touch you like this and touching her the way you were. Her hands were holding her torso up above yours and yours were touching her face so gently. It wasn't like a friend touched a friend anymore.

"Thanks for turning my luck."

"Are you kidding me? I'm the lucky one."

"I think we're both really fucking lucky, Natasha. Thank you."

#natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #mcu #marvel #wlw #lesbian

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 7

(Y/n)'s POV

The next few days I settle into a routine that feels almost normal if you don't count the fact that I am getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur.

Each morning I take Ancient Greek with Annabeth, and we talk about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which is kind of weird. I discover that Annabeth is right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek isn't hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English. After a few mornings, I can read a few lines of Homer without too much headache.

The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something Percy and I are good at. Chiron tries to teach Percy archery, but the three of us find out pretty quickly that he isn't any good with a bow and arrow, but I find that I was pretty okay at it.

The only thing Percy and I excelled at is canoeing, and that isn't the kind of heroic skill people expect to see from the kids who had beaten the Minotaur.

I know the senior counselors are watching the two of us, trying to decide who our dad is, but they aren't having an easy time of it. Percy and I aren't as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. I don't have Hepheastus's skill with metalwork or - gods forbid - Dionysus's with vine plants. Luke tells me and Percy one night that we might be children of Hermes, a jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I get the feeling that he is just trying to make us feel better. He didn't know what to make of us either.

One day, I am out by the canoe lake, just sitting on the dock, when I look over my shoulder to see Annabeth walking down the dock. She silently sits down beside me.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Annabeth wonders and I gather my thoughts before speaking.

"What if I'm not good at anything? What happens if I never get claimed?" I look over, my sea-green eyes meeting Annabeth's stormy-gray eyes.

Annabeth's gaze is slightly sympathetic and when she answers, her response doesn't really make me feel better. "You'd stay in the Hermes cabin."

I nod before gazing down the calm water of the lake again.

. . .

Thursday afternoon, three days after I'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I have my first sword-fighting lesson. Everyone from Cabin Eleven gathers in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor.

We start with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor.

I can't feel a blade that feels right in my hands. Either they are too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tries his best to fix me up, but he agrees that none of the practice blades seem to work for me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Annabeth and Chiron standing at the entrance of the arena.

We move to duel in pairs and Luke announces that he would be my partner, and Percy would have an older camper since it's our first time.

"Good luck," one of the campers tells me. "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years."

I face Luke, an uneasy expression on my face and he shoots me a reassuring smile.

3rd Person POV

Annabeth and Chiron watch (Y/n) and Luke's demonstration, and even Chiron is slightly interested as he watches (Y/n).

Luke thrusts his sword forward and (Y/n) instinctively sidesteps, and Luke, expecting to hit (Y/n)'s shield, stumbles forward.

Luke's eyes narrow and he presses her with more force.

(Y/n) steps forward and tries a thrust of her own and Luke deflects it easily.

The two's blades clash over and over again for a minute or so when the sword in (Y/n)'s hand grows heavy; the balance not quite right.

She tries the disarming maneuver that Luke had been talking about earlier.

(Y/n)'s blade hits the base of Luke's and she twists, putting her whole weight into a downward thrust.

Clang!

Luke's sword rattles against the stone; (Y/n)'s blade is an inch from his undefended chest.

The other campers are silent.

(Y/n) lowers her sword. "Sorry," she says sheepishly.

For a moment, Luke is too stunned to speak.

"Sorry?" his scarred face breaks into a grin. "By the gods, (Y/n), why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

This time, there is only a little bit of sparring before Luke hits the hilt of (Y/n)'s sword and sends it skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, someone in the audience says, "Beginner's luck?"

Luke wipes the sweat off his brow, appraising (Y/n) with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he says. "But I wonder what (Y/n) could do with a balanced sword. . ."

. . .

Friday night, after dinner, there is a lot more excitement than usual.

At last, it's time for capture the flag.

When the plates are cleared away, the conch horn sounds, and all the campers stand at their tables.

Campers yell and cheer as Annabeth and two of her siblings run into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It is about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies run in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a blood spear and a boar's head.

Percy turns to Luke and yells over the noise, "Those are the flags?"

"Yeah."

"Ares and Athena always lead the teams?" (Y/n) asks curiously.

"Not always," he answers. "But often."

"So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do - repaint the flag?" Percy asks.

He grins. "You'll see. First, we have to get one."

Luke fives Percy a sly look, as if he knows something the other two don't. The scar on his face makes Luke look almost evil in the torchlight. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And you are going to help."

The teams are announced. Athena had allied with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Privileges had been traded —shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—to win support.

Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what Percy'd seen, Dionysus's kids were good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter's kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff, but they weren't very aggressive. Aphrodite's sons and daughters he wasn't too worried about. They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. That, of course, left Ares's cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet.

Chiron hammers his hoof on the marble.

"Heroes!" he announces. "You all know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spreads his hand and the tables are suddenly coated in metal equipment: helmets, bronze swords, speaks, oxhide shields covered in metal.

"Whoa!" Percy says. "We're supposed to use these?"

Luke looks at him as if he's crazy. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here — Chiron thought these would fit. You'll be on border patrol, (Y/n), you're with me, I want to see what you can do with that sword."

Luke hands (Y/n) a circular shield and she straps it onto her arm. She tests the weight of the shield and is satisfied with the fact that it's not too light or too heavy.

Annabeth yells, "Blue Team, forward!"

The Blue Team cheers and shakes their swords and follows her down the path to the south side of the woods. The Red Team yells taunts at them as they head off to the north.

Percy manages to catch up to Annabeth, (Y/n) at his heels, without Percy tripping over his heavy equipment.

"Hey," Percy says; Annabeth keeps marching. "So what's the plan?" he asks. "Got any magic items you can loan me?"

Annabeth's hand drifts towards her pocket, as if afraid he'd taken something.

"Just watch Clarisse's spear," she tells Percy. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. (Y/n), come with me."

With a blink, the two girls had ran forward, leaving Percy in the dust. . . .

Once they're in positions, a conch horn blows, and (Y/n), who Annabeth had left with Luke, sneaks forward.

She moves forward a few yards and instinctively raises her shield against an Ares camper. (Y/n) thrusts her sword and the Ares camper sidesteps. Changing her momentum, (Y/n) does a spin, hitting the Ares camper in the stomach with her shield; the camper falls to the ground.

Feeling more confident in herself, (Y/n) slinks into the shadows, her shield and sword low as not to glow from any lights nearby.

(Y/n) makes it across the boundary into enemy territory and sneaks forward a few more yards until she hears Clarisse's voice, "Give him a haircut. Grab his hair."

(Y/n) changes direction, breaking into a run and then bursting from the line of trees.

The five Ares campers turn on her and three advance, Clarisse and another continuing to beat on Percy.

(Y/n) swings the flat of her sword and hits the first guy's head and he crumples to the ground.

Two other guys come at her and she slams her shield into one's face and uses her sword to shave off the horsehair plume on his helmet.

(Y/n) steps into the water and pulls her twin to his feet, feeling as though she'd eaten some of her mother's double espresso beans.

Clarisse and the fourth guy advance and the guy swing his sword, catching (Y/n)'s shield arm and leaving a huge cut, from her wrist to elbow.

Percy catches Clarisse's electric spear with the edge of his shield and sword and snaps it like a twig.

"Ah!" she yells. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!"

She probably would've said worse, but Percy smacks her between the eyes with his sword-but and sends her stumbling backward out of the creek.

Then the twins hear yelling, elated screams, and see Luke raising towards the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He is flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks get up and Clarisse mutters a dazed curse.

"A trick!" Clarisse screams. "It was a trick."

The Ares kids stagger after Luke, but it's too late. Everyone converges on the creek as Luke runs across into friendly territory. The Blue team explodes into cheers and the red banner shimmers and turns to silver. The boar and spear are replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of Cabin Eleven. Everyone on the Blue Team picks up Luke and starts carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron canters out from the woods and blows the conch horn.

(Y/n)'s POV

The game was over. We'd won.

Percy and I are about to join the celebration when Annabeth's voice, right next to me in the creek, says, "Not bad, hero."

I look, an eyebrow quirked, but Annabeth isn't there.

"Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" Annabeth asks. The air shimmers, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.

"You set me up," Percy says, looking slightly angry. "You put me here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out."

Annabeth shrugs, "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan."

"A plan to get my pulverized," Percy retorts.

"I came as fast as I could. I was about to step in . . ." she shrugs. "You didn't need help."

Then she notices my wounded arm. "How did you do that?"

"It's a sword cut," I respond. "Where do you think it came from?"

"No. It was a sword cut," Annabeth says. "Look at it."

I look down. The blood is gone; where the huge cut had been, there is a long white scratch, and even that is fading. As I watch, it turns into a small scar and disappears.

"I - I don't get it," I stutter.

Annabeth is thinking hard. I can almost see the gears turning. She looks down at my feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and says, "Step out of the water, (Y/n)."

"What -" I question.

"Just do it."

I step out of the creek and immediately feel bone tired. I almost fall over but Annabeth steadies me.

"Oh, Styx," she curses. "This is not god. I didn't want . . . I assumed it would be Zeus . . ."

Before I can ask what she means, I hear a canine grows.

A howl rips through the forest.

The campers' cheering dies instantly. Chiron shots something in Ancient Greek, "Stand ready! My bow!"

Annabeth draws her sword.

There on the rocks, just above us is a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

And it's looking right at me.

Nobody moves except Annabeth, who yells, "(Y/n), run!"

She tries to step in front of me, but the hound is too fast. It leaps over her - an enormous shadow with teeth - and just as it hits me, as I stumble backward and feel its razor-sharp claws ripping through my armor.

There is a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after another; from the hound's sprouts a cluster of arrows.

The monster falls dead at my feet.

By some miracle, I am alive. I don't want to look underneath the ruins of my shredded armor and sway a little. My chest feels warm and wet, and I know I am badly cut. Another second and the monster would've turned me into a hundred pounds of deli meat.

Chiron trots up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim.

"Di immortales!" Annabeth says softly. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't...they're not supposed to..."

"Someone summoned it," Chiron murmurs. "Someone inside the camp."

Luke comes over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone.

Clarisse yells, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summons it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron tells her.

We watch the body of the hellhound melts into the shadow, soaking into the ground as it disappears.

"You're wounded," Annabeth tells me. "Quick, (Y/n), get in the water."

I'm too tired to argue and I step back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around me.

Instantly, I fell better; I fell the cuts on my chest closing up.

Some of the campers gasp.

"Look, I - I don't know why," I say, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry . . ."

But they aren't watching my wounds heal, they're staring up at something above mine and Percy's heads.

"(Y/n), Percy," Annabeth says, pointing. "Um . . ."

By the time I look up, the sign is already fading, but I can still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming.

A three-tipped spear: a trident.

"Your father," Annabeth murmurs. "This is really not good."

All around me, campers start kneeling, even Ares cabin, though they don't look happy about it.

"Our father?" Percy asks, looking completely bewildered.

"Poseidon," says Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus and (Y/n) Jackson, Son, and Daughter of the Sea God."

Word Count: 2641 words

#female reader #reader insert #fem reader #percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert

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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years

Text

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 18- Protection

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 4461

Warnings: None

17- Goddess

...

"Are you afraid of me?" He asks.

"...Should I be?"

"You once were."

"I was. You were an ass." Ivar chuckles.

"And now?"

"And now it is you who looks afraid." Artemis smiles, shifting under the furs. He sucks his teeth.

"I do not."

"But you are nervous."

"Are you not?" He asks, tugging her arm when she tried to leave the bed. She giggles in his warm embrace, laying her chin on his chest as she brings her eyes to his.

"I am," She says, "But I trust you.

Ivar grunts as he hobbled his way toward the church. He barely paid any mind to the meeting, thoughts of the night before circulating in his mind. Heat creeped up towards his neck and onto his chiseled cheeks.

He hoped Hvitserk paid enough attention to explain whatever the meeting was about.

Ivar felt like a child, worse, he felt like Arvid, the hopeless dope. But while Arvid displayed his hopeless romanticism, Ivar buried his true feelings, only displaying, well, his usual self. Cranky, bitter, and dissatisfied. Ivar could only hope that he wouldnt mess it up.

He couldn't mess it up.

The harshness of his braces scraped along the stone floors of the church. He could never be inconspicuous like he wanted, but not even he could disturb her from her prayers. The light shinning through the crucifix shaped windows casted over her, giving her an ethereal appearance.

Ivar blinks, biting his lips before grunting again.

"Must you do that?" He calls out to her, his voice palpitating against stone walls. The response was immediate.

"Yes. Must you always interrupt?"

"Yes," Ivar snorts, "Is your cross not enough?" Artemis flutters her eyes open, craning her head slightly to flash Ivar an annoyed expression. He never forbade her from praying to who ever she was praying to, but he didn't prefer it. He'd rather have her on her knees for him.

Before he could conjure up more inappropriate thoughts like a prepubescent boy, she interrupts him.

"You are ridiculous." Artemis stands, dusting off her skirts before making a sign of the cross.

"And you are like the bishop, always in prayer." Ivar grumbles, sending away the guards and sinking himself down onto the alter steps behind her to rest his aching legs. He twisted round to gaze at her "What are you even praying for, hmm?"

"Forgiveness." She says without hesitation.

"What for?"

"Fornication." She mutters, already knowing Ivar could not make sense of the word.

"What?"

"For mounting a heathen." She says, plopping down again on her knees beside him.

Ivar narrows his eyes, a pout ready to form as pink dusted over his cheekbones. He was more timid and introverted about such things than she was, for obvious reasons. He knew she'd heard the stories back in Kattegat, the rumors of his impotence. But they were just stories concocted to shame him, as he had been shamed the entirety of his life.

Perhaps she regretted it.

He prepared his words, fiery and dangerous on the very tip of his tongue in retaliation but cut himself short when she broke out into a grin.

"Ivar," He liked the way his name fell from her her lips, "I'm only teasing."

Oh.

He supposed he earned her teasing humor, it was her way of settling the score.

Ivar huffs with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn't stop the smile that itched at the corners of his mouth, eyes twinkling in amusement as she lowered her head upon his shoulder.

"You're not funny." He mutters.

"I think I am." She says, shyly playing with his fingers.

Ivar had...very skilled fingers.

"Protection." She clears her throat.

"Hmm?"

"I was praying for protection." Confused, Ivar nudges his shoulder to get her to look at him.

"Do you think I cannot protect you?" He asks, leaning forward enough to trace his nose along her face. He feels her smile, her lashes tickling his cheeks

"No, I know you can, but..." She pauses in all seriousness, struggling to find the right words, "Who will protect me from you?" He pulls away from her, the question hitting him full force, like a blow upon the head.

Ivar's eyes were wide in shame, brows curved in worry.

He hadn't forgotten that day, nor what he had done. He shamed her. He remembered her angry red back and the tears streaming down her face in humiliation. He wouldn't forget it, thinking it could be put into the farthest corner of his mind, but it was clear she couldn't do the same. He didn't blame her.

That night he had gone to see her, for no other reason than to sit with her, but once he saw Sigurd there attempting to comfort her, he crawled away in his anger. Sigurd was always-

Oh. Sigurd.

Had he forgotten already? His death had caused turmoil and distrust, and Ivar still wasn't sure if his brothers would ever forgive him. And Artemis? Perhaps she thought him a monster.

"I don't know what to say," Ivar frowns, his shoulders sagging, "My heart grieves for the pain I've caused you."

"Then say nothing," Artemis replies with a shrug, "But just so we are clear, I expect nothing of the sort to happen again." There was a sternness in her tone, a warning.

"Forgive me," Ivar pleads, shyly bringing her closer into an embrace. She melts against him, closing her eyes when he runs a hand down the expanse of her long hair. "I will always protect you, I swear it, upon all the gods. Do you believe me?"

"I believe you," She smiles into the crook of his neck, "But that is not up to us."

"Mmm," Ivar hums, finally loosing his patience and lack of courage, carefully hoisting her onto his lap, "I suppose you are right." She yelps in surprise, her arms going around his neck in support.

"It is up to the gods."

"Or God." Ivar scoffs.

"Explain to me what it is your God can do that Odin or Thor cannot?" Artemis places her brow against his temple as she thinks for a moment.

"He can give a man wealth and strip him of such luxuries, like he did in the story of Job." She says.

"I don't know of this Job."

"He was a rich man under the protection of God. One day the devil decided to test him, stripping him away from his luxuries and family to see if he would stray away from God. But he didn't. He remained faithful, and God restores him his wealth." Ivar didn't look impressed.

"A man can just take wealth," He snorts, "As I have here in York."

"A hainous act, if you ask me."

"Well, it is good I didn't asked you then." Ivar smiles against her wild hair, breathing in her scent. They sat like this, in comfortable silence with only the outside bustle as a disturbance.

"Do you... pray for me?" He asks hesitantly, lowering his chin onto her shoulder to shield his face away from her.

"I have," She nods, "I have prayed for the Lord to soften your heart." Ivar let's out a soft chuckle, tightening his hold on her. She felt so small in his arms, fragile and innocent, yet he knew she was capable of much more than a weak disposition. She could probably hammer a man to death if she wanted.

"Then I suppose your prayers were answered," He mutters, "Like...a miracle?"

"You know about miracles?"

"The bishop has attempted to enlighten me on such things."

"A heathen learning of Christian ways? Are you ill?" Artemis places the back of her hand upon his brow, checking for a fever she very well knew wasn't there. Ivar rolls his eyes but smiles, grabbing her hand to give her knuckles a quick kiss.

"There you go again believing you are funny."

She ignores his comment, bringing her fingers to probe at the tightness of his hairstyle. His hair was twisted away from his face and pulled back towards the nape, his preferred style. It made him look regal, but she missed his silken hair splayed out on his shoulders. It so easily slipped through her fingers.

"Baby bird?"

"Hmm?"

"Your mind wanders again." He chuckles, already knowing how easily her mind distracts her.

"Oh, well, I'm only thinking of you." She says, her eyes leaving his twisted hair in favor of looking at him.

"Good thoughts I hope?"

"Good thoughts," She repeats, offering him a bashful smile, "And how warm I feel in your arms." His brows shoot up, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

"Then I suppose you shall never leave my embrace."

...

There would be an attempted invasion of Kattegat, and Ivar's mission was to dethrone its queen. Ivar had grown weary of such ill feelings towards Queen Lagertha, and his desire was to end her life and take over his home as its rightful king.

Many claimed it to be a war that would bring about Ragnarok, the end of their world.

His mother was dead, living on in his memory, but his heart would never be at ease until Lagertha's blood was on his hands. He spoke of it many times in the past, but now it was becoming all too real. It was a dangerous mission, Lagertha was not a weak woman and neither were her warriors. The fortifications around her city were well guarded, and she was well loved by her people.

Such thoughts plagued Artemis, and for once, she truly worried for Ivar's life. He was never afraid to prove himself, and such was his pride, made to smile in the face of danger. So young yet so ambitious, Ivar could not be persuaded otherwise. He was certain he would be victorious with his gods by his side.

The journey back to Norway would not be long, but the winds worried some. The days of storm clouds finally broke into clearer skies, the perfect sign that the gods favored their journey. King Harald had left soon after the 2 kings were defeated with the intentions of carrying the news to Queen Lagertha. It was Ivar's hope that the king had made it back safely into his own lands. They would reunite soon enough.

Ivar's warriors were itching for war, blood thirsty men that were insatiable. Their entire lives were centered around war and the honor of dying on the battlefield. Valhalla was only a throat slit away, but imbedded in them was the lack of fear to be taken in the arms of the Valkyries.

Ivar was no different.

Although he wanted Lagertha dead, he did not mind dying for his cause, so long as he took her from the earth as well. He always thought his life useless, perhaps for his legs, and once Artemis had heard Sigurd say their father practically left him for dead. It didn't bother Ivar in the least, not anymore. He had come to terms with death since he left his mothers womb. He didn't fear it then, and he would not fear it now.

The anxiousness plagued her. It settled in the pit of her stomach uncomfortably. She felt this way when forced from Crete, and again when leaving Kattegat. Leaving meant more wars and no peace, more death and blood, and more distance between who she was and who she is now.

Day after day she felt less of a Christian, less of what she knew and who she was raised as. Ivar was keen on her forgetting her old ways, her old life, as it would serve her no good. At least, that was what he believed. But how could she? Heahmund was a bitter reminder, and although he was of western faith and she of eastern, they did believe in the same concept.

Odin, Thor, Loki, Frejya, Freyr, Baldor...these entities that were taught to her in constant lessons by Ivar and Hvitserk couldn't overshadow her own beliefs, not just yet, and not in the way they wanted.

Whenever the winds blew and carressed her cheeks, Ivar said it was a blessing from Frejya, or when the english skies boomed with thunder it was Thor riding his chariot towards the heavens. But they were just stories to her, greatly reminding her of the ancient tales of her ancestors.

Yet, in Ivar's eyes, she could see how he wanted her to take part in his traditions, in his warrior culture, and most importantly, in his life. To know their language was one thing but to completely assimilate into it was entirely different.

Artemis was reminded of Helga at such times, how the blonde woman would want her to be a part of them, even as a slave. How the woman would laugh if she knew how far she has come. She thought of her every now and then, reminiscing the few memories she had with the kind woman. Helga would be greatly missed.

She struggled with this, even now, with the sight of the dragon headed boats bobbing by the waters edge, intimidating, as they begin their preparations to sail away, back to where they came.

Artemis would be sailing back, not as a slave, but as a free woman. It was strange. Before, she wanted nothing more than to run, to escape and never look back. But things were different now.

Ivar was no longer just a crippled bastard, and she was no longer just a thrall.

Ivar said it was the gods who placed her there, and it was the gods that saw to her destiny.

It didn't make sense to her, but Ivar was certain everything was for a reason, that she was taken from home for a reason, and that his affections for her was for a reason.

Everything was for a reason.

Being taken away from home, only to get involved in foreign wars did not seem reasonable. But then again, love wasn't reasonable, and her new relationship with Ivar was beyond anyone's understanding, sometimes even her own.

She just hoped he was right.

...

Everything was set for departure, and the shoreline was littered with Ivar's army, scattered about in excitement for what was to come.

Artemis leans far over the side of the ship, swirling her fingers into the clear waters. She was thinking, that much was evident to Ivar. He sat behind her, watching her with keen eyes. If he wanted to, he could probably read her thoughts.

"Be careful, you might fall over." He warns.

"I'm fine."

"No, you are thinking again."

"No, I'm not." She calls from over her shoulder.

"What are you thinking of?" He tries again. She sighs, moving away from the edge to look at him. His brows were raised in question, motioning for her to sit. She drags her feet, plopping down in front of him.

"Well?"

"I was thinking of my father." She says quietly, her eyes appearing quite sad.

"You must miss him," Ivar comments, reaching for her hand to run his thumb over her skin, "I understand."

When his mother died, he was inconsolable, mourning her death deeply. It has been a year after her death, he still silently mourned her. Artemis was ripped away from all she knew, from her only family. He recounts the time she had mentioned the death of her mother and then her brother, leaving only a father in her life.

Although Ivar's family has been severed at this point, with his own brothers battling for dominance, he was always surrounded by family, slaves, and even Floki who watched over him when Ragnar never did.

He sympathizes for her.

"I do." She sighs, "He could be dead and I would never know."

She had twisted the scenarios over and over in her head till she mentally exhausted herself. The prospect of her father's demise sent pangs of pain to her heart. If he wasn't dead, then surely he was dying of heartache for a lost daughter, just as she had been suffering the heartache of separation. She hoped that he wasn't guilt ridden for her disappearance. It wasn't his fault.

Ivar continues to eye her, admiring her simple beauty. He smiles, mentally thanking the gods for her. She was not at all what he thought her to be.

Ivar let the silence fall upon them as he thought for a moment, pursing his lips before speaking.

"I will be king of Kattegat." He announces suddenly, almost haughtily, his chest puffing out in pride.

"...Indeed you will," She replies bewildered, "So?"

"So, as king, I will organize many expeditions." There was a smile on his face. He was speaking to her as if she already knew where his ramblings were going.

"And?"

"And perhaps one would be to the Mediterranean." She blinks, her face twisting into further confusion. She stares at him, their eyes in a constant battle.

"To raid?" She asks suspiciously.

"To explore," He corrects. Artemis snorts.

"You want to explore the Mediterranean?"

"Your island, Crete," Ivar shrugged, playing with his axe as he usually did. He runs his calloused thumb over the freshly sharpened blade before continuing, "We could inquire on your father, if you'd like."

He had never seen such a look on her face, mostly because he couldn't describe it. It was a mix of confusion, happiness and shock, all in one. Her mouth opened as if to speak but she immediately presses her lips together as she couldn’t find the right words to express her thoughts.

"Ivar, are you being serious?"

"Why would I be lying?" He demands, placing his axe aside in favor of pulling her closer to fill the gap between them. He kisses her as he so loved to do. He never realized how much he liked to kiss.

"So let me understand this," She says over his persistent lips, giggling when he takes a nip at her, "You are willing to take me back home to inquire on my father?"

"You sound doubtful." He mutters over her lips, still on his quest to devour her.

"It sounds impossible." She sighs, ducking away from him. Ivar frowns.

"Why? It wasn't impossible for Bjorn to bring you to Norway, why would it be impossible to bring you back?" Artemis licks her lips, shrugging her shoulders as she begins to play with the ends of her braided hair.

"You would do that for me?" She asks shyly, keeping her eyes low.

"I think you deserve it." He pushes a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"Please, just make sure not to make any promises that cannot be kept." When she finally brings her gaze to his, he sees the glossiness in her eyes. He gently pulls her forward into an embrace, and she immediately borrows within him.

"Once I secure Kattegat, it shall be done." He whispers in her ear, smiling when he feels her nods against him. She pulls away, offering him a peck to which he beams, right before catching a glimpse of someone that soured his mood immediately.

Annoyed, Ivar cocks his head, sneering at Arvid before crossing his arms like a child.

Artemis knew exactly what bothered him, and with a sigh she turns round to see Arvid at the shore line with Alfhild, bidding their farewells to the men. Alfhild waves at both Ivar and Artemis with a grin on her face before retreating back to their camp, leaving Arvid alone to brood. His eyes catch hers as if begging her not to go.

"Well go on, you have my permission." An annoyed Ivar says, clearly daring Arvid to try something.

"I am not sure I should." He sucks his teeth.

"He needs to understand you have chosen."

What he meant to say was that he needs to understand she has chosen Ivar.

Artemis cracks a smile at Ivar's brooding form, standing up slowly as if dreading the meeting.

"I will be here," He reassures, though it was not as if he were going anywhere else. He shoos her off, watching every step she took off the ship, onto land, and straight to Arvid.

The annoying prick.

Artemis timidly smiles at Arvid, mostly because she had no idea what else to do. He stood with his arms crossed in a disapproving manner, his eyes swimming with many questions.

"Have you forgotten you are a free woman now?"

"I haven't forgotten." She says.

"And still, you choose to go with him?"

"Clearly that is what you see, Arvid." She calmly says, not wanting to attract attention.

"I don't think it wise."

"And I am not seeking your approval."

"Hmm." Arvid snorts. He shakes his head but says nothing more of it, "I want you to have this." He says, fishing into the pocket of his trousers and revealing a leather cord with a small pendant hanging from it.

Artemis takes it in her hands, and upon closer inspection she comes to find it is Mjölnir, a small representation of Thor's hammer. She noticed it everywhere, Arvid wore it about his neck, as well as Hvitserk, and even Ivar, hidden under all his leather and armor.

"Do you know what this?" He asks her, watching her run her thumb over the grooves of the small pendant in curiosity.

"Thor's hammer," Artemis replies, peeling her eyes away from its details in favor of finding answers in Arvid's eyes,"Why are you giving this to me?"

"So that you may always have Thor's protection," He says, his eyes looking past her and onto a more focused point, "To protect you from those who would hurt you."

Artemis looks behind her, only to meet Ivar's cold eyes staring back at them with such intensity, a sneer settling on his handsome features. Arvid stared back just as fiercely, both stubborn men resembling hungry wolves with an innocent doe between them.

"I don't know what to say," She says, turning back to him, "This was thoughtful of you. Thank you."

"Take care of yourself." He says, finally looking away from Ivar and onto Artemis's softer features.

"You as well, and may your child come safely into this world. I shall keep you and Alfhild in my prayers." Her genuine words soften him a bit, and he rubs the back of his neck.

"Perhaps we shall cross paths again?"

"Perhaps."

Artemis smiles, casting him one last look before heading back towards the noisy docks. Ivar sat patiently waiting for her in the lead ship, Bishop Heahmund's sword appearing at his side suddenly, leaning against his left leg while he held his axe tightly in his right.

Ivar always had the appearance of being shrouded in mystery when wearing his black cloak, watching like a predator as Artemis came back to him.

She collapses beside him, running her fingers on the surface of the silver pendant over and over again.

"He is absolutely besotted with you." Ivar snorts.

"I haven't a clue why."

"You are a treaure." Artemis snorts this time, but the seriousness in Ivar's tone meant he was not jesting.

"What? I am but a woman."

"And?"

"A foreigner."

"So?" Ivar smiles, crossing his arms and leaning back against the ships railings.

"I thought you didn't favor foreign girls."

"Artemis, shut up." He breathes, draping an arm around her shoulders to bring her as close to him as possible.

She laughs, stretching her legs out right beside his. She watched his hounds whine in their cages in the farthest corner of the ship for their fear of the seas. The little hound that ran between her heels sat away in his own cage, attempting to sleep with all the noise going about.

Ivar grips the pendant in his own hand, and she was afraid he'd throw it over board. Instead he admires it.

"Certainly made by Arvid. His work never disappoints," He remarks, placing it back into her hands, "It's for protection."

"Just like yours." She says, placing her fingertips gently onto the delicate skin of his throat before reaching to grab his necklace that remained hidden. Ivar's Mjölnir was larger and in more detail compared to Artemis's dainty one.

She felt him swallow thickly under her touch, a much desired reaction that excited her.

"Mhm." He hums with a sigh, leaning in to plant a kiss to her brow, smiling against her skin. She leans against him, closing her eyes as the winds swept across her cheeks, and the small waves rocking the ships lulled her into comfort. There was a moment of peacefulness that happened often when they were alone, a comfortable silence where the singing of the sea birds brought about tranquility.

"Ivar," Hvitserk calls out to him, "Everything is ready for departure,"

"Very well, tell the men to sound the horns."

His older brother runs off, shouting for the horn signals. They were heard immediately, and men started to remove the ropes from the masts, the ships slowly drifting off into the calm waters.

The nervousness came back to haunt Artemis, settling again in the pit of her stomach. It must have shown on her face for Ivar quickly grabbed the pendant from her hands and gently placed the leather cord over her head and onto her exposed collarbone.

"Worry not, baby bird," He says to her with a reassuring smile, "You have our protection."

...

"Welcome Ivar, Hvitserk." Harald's smile was brighter than the sun, even from quite the distance away across the docks, his grin was blinding.

"Is that not Astird?" Artemis heard Hvitserk whisper to his limping younger brother, who only shrugged as best he could while maneuvering on his crutch.

"Seems Lagertha is running out of alies." He whispers back before politely smiling at Harald, who greeted both Ragnarssons with a firm shake of hands.

"My queen," The king introduces, "Astrid." Lagertha's former shieldmaiden wore a passive expression, her blue eyes outlined in the blackest khol. She was pretty, and quite tall, dressed in the finest of fabrics and jewels, but she still carried the air of a warrior.

"Welcome." She says to them, inclining her head in respect. Harald's intense stare falls behind the brothers and onto Artemis's small form, carrying her hound in her hands like a babe upon its mothers breast.

"Artemis?" He says her name with a chuckle, "Ivar hasn't killed you yet?"

"Not yet, King Harald." The king belts out a laugh, turning to look at Ivar who was not particularly amused.

"She is my companion." Ivar answers the silent question.

"Oh?" Harald turns his eyes back to her, brows raised.

"I am a free woman, King Harald." It felt strange to say such words.

"Well then, you shall be recieved in my home as a free woman. I welcome you all to Vestfold."

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @rastakami23 @inforapound @leilabeaux @ostra814 @zumzum96

#ivarxofc #ivarfanfiction #ivar imagine #ivar #vikingsfanfiction #vikings fanfic #vikings ivar #vikings #alex hogh andersen #ivar the boneless

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lovemecharlie · 5 years

Text

Secret Admirer

Hennessy × Erik. Happy Valentine's Day.

"Someoneee has a secretttt admirerrrr," Raven sang grinning mischievously as she carried a handful of flowers into the greenhouse where Hennessy sat at her desk, jotting down notes. Hennessy looked up noticing her assistant and her eyes dropped to the colorful bunch. She sat up in her seat as Raven sat the bouquet of yellow, purple, and pink flowers mixed with baby's breath onto the desk.

"Whose are these, are they mine?" She stared at the flowers confused. They were nice, but Erik had done way better in the past. Raven's fingers began to drum curiously on Hennessy's desk, edging toward the small card attached. As Hennessy's assistant, she was naturally nosey and interested in anything involving Dr. Chiron.

"To the The Beautiful Hennessy.. Happy Valentine's Day," she read aloud, "There's no other name attached, only the words 'From a nigga who be watching.' Oooh," she grinned, "I wonder who it is that's been watching and do they know you're a married doctor? I smell drama."

"Oh there's no drama. Anyone who knows me knows I'm married and my man is crazy about me and in general. It's probably why they chose to keep their identity a secret," Hennessy flipped her hair before feeling the petals of a pink flower. Her eyes cut at Raven, dismissing her. In Hennessy's mind, they weren't that close for the young woman to be in her business like that. Besides, didn't she have work to do? Taking the hint, Raven sighed and returned to the store front.

Alone, Hennessy's radiant smile couldn't be tamed as she took pictures of her Valentine's Day flowers, making sure to get every single detail including the card. She was pressed and all kinds of gassed, rereading the card over and over and looking at the sloppy handwriting. Erik's handwriting was nice for the most part, so this definitely wasn't his work. Who was bold enough to attempt to woo her, knowing Erik was not the one to play? She had no clue. Trigga Trey was dead, who else was there?! Excited energy bubbled through her and she giggled, her feet dancing. She could imagine Erik's response to the flowers. If he were to find out she really had a secret admirer.. One this bold.. She shivered. It made her feel sneaky.

With her tongue out, she decided to be messy. She put the pictures up on her Instagram and even posed holding the flowers with a peace sign and a sweet grin. She had butterflies, feeling giddy.. Erik would be perturbed! All there was to do now was wait.

And wait.

She was bored, her feet on her desk as she smoked a joint with no side effects, one of her favorite and most lucrative creations. Why wasn't Erik blowing her up right now?! Did he not see it? She checked the post again. She'd posted four pictures that she swiped through. 132 likes and not one of them Erik. Comments from Charlie, Bastion, Aly'Sha, and Angel highlighted, but none from Erik. His was the only response she cared about at the moment. She was so annoyed. She'd even posted a short live in her impatience, dancing with the flowers in her grasp and blowing kisses to her secret admirer, whoever it was. When the footage ended, she sat the phone down, returning to her pouting, her arms crossed over her chest. Checking her phone again, he'd clicked on it! No DM. No text. No nothing!

"Ughhhh!" She kicked at the air under her chair before dropping her head on her desk with an irritated whine.

"Dr. Chiron?" Raven spoke and Hennessy straightened herself immediately, smoothing her clothes and putting her professional shield back up. "You have another delivery.. this one's pretty big. Should I let them bring it in here?"

Hennessy stared, confused and interested, nodding her head. Raven waved to someone unseen and when they appeared, there was a large arrangement of white long stem roses. It looked like four dozen combined. Hennessy's jaw dropped as she rose from her seat reaching out to take them from the delivery man. "Toss them weak ass flowers," she read aloud, her chest contracting with a silent laugh. This one was from her husband, there was no question. As her face split in a grin, another three men appeared with equally large displays. One all red, one all pink. "These are almost bigger than mee," Hennessy squealed, bouncing with glee, her cheeks heating and turning rosy. She had the bouquets set up on her desk and they swallowed the flowers from her secret admirer. Those pathetic flowers were no longer visible, an afterthought. Three more mega bouquets came and she thought she'd drown in roses. They smelled fragrant and fresh and they were everywhere!

"Last bunch," Raven waved the men in and the last one stood in place, not moving to lay down the roses. Hennessy waited, wondering if he needed a minute before saying fuck his minute. She wanted her damn flowers! Walking to him, she pulled them from his hand with attitude.

"UM. THANK YOU, SIR- AHHHH!!!" She dropped the roses jumping into his arms excitedly, her lips pressing into his over and over as her legs wrapped around his waist.

"Yeahhh," his eyebrow raised smugly, "You was.. in here.. going crazy.. wasn't you.. I know," Erik mused between kisses as Hennessy attacked his mouth. "Nigga had to make a trip. Don't nobody outdo daddy." Hennessy snickered between her barrage of kisses and Erik gripped her ass tighter, squeezing it. "Why is your assistant in our faces right now," he whispered loudly, his eyes darting to Raven. "Get," he whispered and she flinched as if electrocuted, taking off. Hennessy and Erik were finally alone. "Who's this secret admirer," he murmured facing her, eyes low. Her lips were still attacking him.

"I don't know, they're secret," she replied not letting up. She sucked his neck as he carried her to her desk that was so full of roses, he couldn't sit her down. That was fine by her.

"What you do with that weak excuse for flowers?" He looked around. They weren't in the trashcan.

"Y'all buried them under all of my roses," she chuckled watching him burrow under hundreds of roses for the frail, in comparison, flowers.

"Hold onto me," he said letting go briefly to aggressively rip the multicolored flowers apart. Her snicker stuttered on his neck as he dropped the peices into the trash can before gripping her again to steady her. He picked up her phone handing it to her. "Put THAT on ya Instagram," he pointed to the trash and she did, also photographing the ridiculous amount of roses crowding her desk. Another quick live on IG showed her grinning, still flushed with joy in Erik's arms. "Send my wife flowers again and that's gone be ya ass," he grinned threateningly to the camera, his platinum fangs glinting beautifully. Hennessy kissed him on his cheek ending the video. "I don't like niggas sending you shit," he pouted.

"Awww, fathead," she pinched his cheek and he leaned into her hand, throwing her over the roses. "Geez," she wheezed, giggling as he kissed down her neck, pushing up her dress and pulling her panties to the side. She was in heaven, his tongue rolling and licking, doing tricks. His locks were braided back neatly so she gripped his shoulders and then the back of his head in ecstasy. "That feels good daddy, don't stop," she moaned watching his head move, the sounds of his tongue flicking loud in the air. She spread her legs further and Erik settled in between, diving with his tongue before sucking on her inner thighs and returning to suck her clit. He wanted her to cum and she gave him what he wanted.

By the time he left, she was on cloud nine. She sighed, her face still flushed with the dopiest grin that she could not control. It was totally worth sending herself those tacky cheap flowers.

@poosypoosy @bastioncarterstevens-udaku @hennessystevens-udaku @itsangeludaku @alyshastevens-udaku @itskimorafireudaku @allhailnjadaka @bidibidibombaclaat @blackpinup22 @destinio1 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @leahnicole1219 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @trevantesbrat

Based on this post:

*I didn't use a fruit arrangement so someone else can write it with one!

#the kompound #fics #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #erik killmonger smut #erik stevens

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