#in honour of the news here is a gif that has been sat in my drafts for literal years

[ieromoon]

[anyonewannasteponme]

Summary: Your marriage with Aemond had been one of honour, not of love, yet when subjected to your husbands cruelty upfront you cant help but ache for a way to take your revenge.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol Usage while Pregnant, Incest

Authors Note: I feel like Aemond is lowkey out of character and I kind of hate this but oh well.

You sat awestruck, in shock at the vile accusations your own husband had just made not only against your brothers but yourself as well. You held back tears as you all but waddled over to where your step father held back Jace. "I'm sorry." You whsipered to Daemon. Your step father just gave you a pitying look as you caressed your heavily pregnant belly. Your emotions were already running rampant, you couldn’t believe Aemond had been so bold as to dishonour you in front of his own family. You didn’t just feel humiliated you were furious.

Aemond caught your eye from across the room, where he stood with his brother and sister. You could barely hold his glance, simply turning away and storming out of the dining hall tears brimming in your eyes. Please. You thought selfishly. Please come after me. Because even after the insult he had dealt you and your family tonight, you still wished for your uncles comfort. Craved it. Of course as was expected of Aemond, he did not.

When you were younger you had imagined it to be customary for husbands and wives to sleep in the same bed, now you knew that was not the case. Aside from a few moments of passion, of which Aemond never spent the night you and he had kept entirely seperate chambers throughout your marriage. That usually made you saddened, wishing and wondering what your marriage could have been like if you had simply not been born a bastard. Because of course that’s why Aemond had disrespected you. He saw you as less than, nothing more than a duty he owed to the realm as the second born son.

Tonight, you must admit you felt relieved that you didn’t share chambers with Aemond, knew you wouldn’t be able to control your rage if met with him directly.

A knock sounded at your door, startling you slightly, you prayed to the old gods and the new that it wasn't Aemond. You arose overcome with a sense of trepidation as if you were moving in slow motion, if it was Aemond what would you do? What would he do? You opened the door.

"Aegon?" You whispered, slightly taken aback. He simply grinned raising his left arm, in his hand a bottle of wine, he shook the bottle slightly as if hoping to get it through your thick skull that he wasn't here to chastise, he was simply here to... drink? "It’s Arbor Gold" He said. "Your favourite... now can I come in or are you going to keep me confined to the doorway." You cleared your throat stepping aside and allowing your uncle to enter your bedroom.

"Aegon if Aemond-" Aegon interrupted you by putting his finger to your lips and letting out a condescending assortment of hushes. "Aemond never did like to share, fear not niece I haven't come here tonight to take advantage of your delicate state, I simply come to offer a sense of comfort. From one person that has been sincerely fucked by this family to another. "

You didn't understand, Aegon had taken as much pleasure in your public humiliation as Aemond and yet you didn't open your mouth to argue knowing Aegon's temper you would take this act of goodwill with little complaints unless you wanted to risk waking the dragon. "I appreciate that." You responded. "But you know I can't drink this right? The Maester insisted."

"The Maester is a cunt." Aegon replied simply, pouring himself a glass that resided on the small table you oft took your breakfast at when you weren't expeted to be publicly feasting with your family. "Truly Aegon, if Aemond finds out-"

"What are you so afraid of." Aegon laughed, turning towards you, two glasses in hand. "My brother may have trained with the sword but I doubt he would turn his hand to his own lady wife."

Truly you didn't have a clue what Aemond would do and that was what frightened you. Yet you must admit a wave of excitement went through you at the thought. Your husband, who rarely showed you any emotions at all, losing his composure, the idea was intoxicating. You took the glass from Aegon, sitting yourself down beside him on the carpet at the foot of your bead. "I do have seats you know."

"Fuck seats."

You frowned. "You curse an awful lot for a prince of the realm." Aegon smiled at that. "And your awfully prudent, which is certainly not befitting of a bastard born daughter." His words hit where they were supposed to and you shut your mouth taking a gulp from your glass of wine. There was a fluttering in your womb at that, you thought nothing of it, treating it as a mere coincidence that came with how far along you were in your pregnancy. Yet you still placed a hand on your lower belly giving a comforting caress to the babe in your womb. "Does it ail you?" Aegon asked, staring down at your stomach in what may have been awe. "No." You responded. "Didn't you have Helaena to ask these questions to during her pregnancy?"

"I was hardly around during Helaena's pregnancy and I was most certainly not at the birthing." Those words saddened you. Your Aunt had been one of the only people in this court who had shown you kindness since your betrothal to Aemond and your Mother and Brothers taking their leave to return to Dragonstone. The thought of her laboring alone hurt your heart. Maybe that's because it could very likely be yourself in a few months, Aemond would most certainly provide you no comfort.

The night escalated from there, you had hardly meant to drink as much as you did but Aegon kept pouring you glass after glass until you were both shattered, giggling messes simply lying on the floor and complaining about how your lives had ended up the way they did.

"I always wanted to go to the north, marry a Stark." You whispered. "I hear they value honor above all else."

Aegon frowned. "Do you not think my brother honorable?"

"No!" You replied, flustered. "That's not what I meant." Yet you couldn't form a coherent thought or come up with a way to defend yourself courtesy of the alcohol. Aegon simply laid his head against your shoulder beginning to doze.

You found yourself relaxing too. Until your door swung open and a visibly irritated Alicent burst in. "Aegon." She growled. "Wake up you fool." She stood above her eldest son looking exceptionally regal despite her grievances. But Alicent wasn't who you were focusing on. No it was your husband, a stony, cool look washed over his face as his took in the compromising position you were in with his brother. Alicent had managed to prop Aegon up and began leading him out of the room, not before shooting you a look filled with malice. Aemond closed your bedroom door and locked it. That act alone sent shivers down your spine and a strange feeling began to well in your lower belly, accompanied by a neediness you had never felt before.

Aemond cleared his throat, clearly aiming to appear composed, yet you saw through his illusion; through his clenched jaw and blazing eyes, it was clear he was furious. He opened his mouth appearing unsure how to start a conversation with you. "Did he touch you." He began, getting straight to the point. "No of course not." You responded immediately. "I know you think me a baseborn idiot, incapable of remaining any semblance of loyalty but I assure you, I know where my loyalties lie."

"I never claimed you to be an idiot." He responded through gritted teeth.

"Yet you treated me as such when you toasted my brothers, blatantly questioning their legitimacy." You swallowed, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. "Jace is to be your future king and Baela his queen, you ought to treat them with the respect they deserve."

Aemond tipped back his head and laughed heartily "The day your brother ascends the throne will be the beginning of the downfall of this kingdom."

You froze in pure disbelief that he would say something so bold. "What you speak is treason."

His eye glinted with amusement. "Are you going to tell on me to your mother?" He chuckled cruelly. "You are no true Velaryon, that is for certain."

"Perhaps not." You whispered, approaching Aemond slowly. "But I am as much a Targaryen as you are and you'd do best to not forget it."

He went silent. Something passed between the two of you, maybe it was the alcohol acting but you found yourself staring at his lips as his tongue darted out to wet them. Wondering what they would feel like on your own.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips against him, he stiffened immediately at the contact arm coming up to grip your own, as if he was unsure whether he should pull you away or not.

“I will not take you.” He said at last pulling away, lips swollen. “Not if my brother has had you.”

You hated how chivalrous he always had to be. “He hasn’t.” You whispered. Please. You wanted to say, yet you caught yourself when you realised the picture you were painting of yourself. Bedding a man who had attacked and debased your family regardless of if he was your husband or not would come across as needy. You didn’t care. “I want it.” You whispered. His eyes widened and then something changed, his gaze became hungry, his eyes roving over your body, drinking it in. You were still in your dinner dress, now crumpled and stained from your drinking with Aegon. Your pregnant belly strained against the material.

“Lay on the bed.” Aemond ordered.

You obeyed.

“Spread your legs.” Aemond approached the foot of the bed where you sat. When you spread your legs, with slight difficulty due to your belly, he snaked his hand between them, pulling down your undergarments before assisting you in taking your dress off.

Aemond pulled a chair up to the foot of the bed and sat down, his legs spread. You found your eyes drawn to his straining cock immediately. You felt a thrill, having not taken him in months. “Touch yourself.” He stated.

Your eyes widened. “Pardon?”

He smiled cruelly as if you were nothing more than a joke to him. “You want it?” You nodded. “Then show me.”

You had only allowed yourself the reprieve of masturbation on your loneliest nights when you wished for anyone to keep you company in your large, cold bed. You gulped, snaking a hand down between your legs and finding your clit. You began to rub circles around the bud, letting out a light gasp at the jolts of pleasure coursing through your body simply by having someone watch you.

“You’re filthy.” He said simply, smiling and palming between his legs as you began to buck into your touch. “Close already?” You nodded desperately. “Hands off.” He said. “When you cum I want it to be from me.”

You continued, his words barely registering. In seconds Aemond was on you, ripping your hand from between you legs and pinning you to the bed. “Stupid girl.” He snarled. “Dumb already and you haven’t even had a cock in you.” You whimpered.

“Please put it in me.” You whispered prompting a growl from Aemond. He spread your legs even wider before undoing his zipper and freeing his length. “I shouldn’t be giving you what you want.” He growled. “Not after the stunt you pulled tonight.”

He aligned himself with your entrance before pushing in ever so slowly. You let out a cry of pleasure. “Fuck.” Aemond whispered, so feint you could have missed it, his eyes fixed on where the both of were joined. “Feel good?.” He asked.

All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and nod as his thrusts became deeper, more frequent.

“This is all you needed huh?” He asked with a laugh. “A cock to fill you up and you’re satisfied.” His words weren’t computing, your eyes rolled back into your head. “Fuck I’m close.” He growled, thrusts picking up. “Where do you want it?”

“In me.” You said before tipping your head back and moaning as you played with your clit, walls fluttering around him as your orgasm finally overtook you. You must have been squeezing him like a vice because Aemond came shortly after you, collapsing beside you as he breathed deeply.

You lay like that for a few minutes, before Aemond placed a hand on your belly giving it a light rub before standing up. You grabbed at his wrist. “Stay.” You asked, eyes pleading. How you had gone from being furious with him to asking him to spend the night you had no idea.

Yet it was Aemond. He left anyways.

Perhaps that was for the better. Aemond was blood of the dragon, as were you and yet some days he made you feel like a sheep in comparison to himself. So you went to sleep. The only evidence he had been in your room dribbling out between your thighs.

[fandomnsfw]

I Can Be Your Biggest Fan - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

(Ignore that unfaithful little witch who deserved the death she got! But his face is just so cute right here...At least the gods approve of sexual desires) 😂🤣

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless x Reader

Promt: My obsession with Ivar and his poor underloved self. Poor baby just need love and someone who could actually get his dick hard 🥺

You are a slave and have been most of your life but because of this you got the chance to meet the most handsome man you’d ever seen...cripple or not.

Warning: SMUT! Dirty Ivar loving smut! Foul language because I swear more than a sailor.

ENJOY!!!

********

“Her.” You felt your body freeze as the queen stopped in front of you. You had no idea how this queen would be with you but once she had picked you had to follow her either way. You kept quiet as you looked around the village. They hadn’t told you what your work would be but you hopes it wasn’t sex. You’d managed to save yourself so far.

The queen took her place on the throne before assessing you thoroughly. She smiled softly at you and for some reason you felt a sense of peace. Hopefully she was a fair mistress.

“What is your name girl?” She asked curiously her face keeping its smile.

“My name is Y/N, my Queen.” You spoke clearly if there was something you had learnt over the years is that people with respect you more if you speak confidently even if you’re a slave.

“You will be my personal help. You will serve my family dinner, help me bathe, help with grandchildren once I have some.” She informed confidently her wise smile still on her face.

“It would be my honour my Queen.” You gave her a grin letting her know you were more than happy with the job choice.

“Okay, well the cook has food ready so if you could get everything ready that would be good.” She chuckled before shooing you away to set the table.

You were fast getting it done so the queen gave you a happy grin as she sat at the table and waited for her sons. Eventually 3 boys walked into the hall, laughing at something. You stood next to the queen with your hands behind your back.

Then he came in. The most beautiful man you’d ever seen dragging himself around on his hands. That must’ve taken a lot of muscle to do that everyday. Yet he looked like he could take on his brothers with ease.

“This is Ubbe my first born.” The queen pointed to her elder son. He was handsome he had similar eyes to his cripple brother but for some reason they weren’t as captivating.

“This is Hvitserk my second son.” She pointed to the son next to Ubbe and he gave you a cheeky grin.

“That is my third son Sigurd.” She pointed to the opposite side of the table at the strawberry blonde man who looked you up and down with a smirk and it made your stomach churn.

“And my youngest son Ivar.” She cupped her youngest face with affection before looking up to you. He looked up at you with a curious gaze but didn’t say anything.

“This is Y/N my new slave. You are not to touch her without her permission.” The queen glared at all her sons except Ivar.

“You know maybe you should worry about Ivar not us.” Sigurd snickered as Ivar shot him a glare.

“The only one who made me feel uncomfortable with their eyes was you master Sigurd.” You mumbled your anger surfacing. Why did you say that? You should’ve kept your mouth closed but before you could apologise the queen started laughing a long with Ubbe and Hvitserk.

“I like her mother.” Ivar chuckled as he stared up at you in wonder. You met his ocean blue eyes with a sweet smile and he shot you a charming smile that made your heart melt. You felt your cheeks flush so you tried to avoid his eyes, yet you couldn’t stop from looking up only to see he’d yet to remove his eyes from you.

Unlike when Sigurd did this it felt exciting when Ivar did it. It was flattering you thought to yourself. The queen seemed to notice the flirting eyes you were sending each other but chose not to say a word until later on in the night.

………

“What do you think of my sons Y/N?” The queen asked mischievously as the rest her arms on the side of the tub, watching you closely.

“They are good reliable men.” You responded awkwardly as you got her night clothes ready.

“What about Ivar?” She asked quietly trying to his her smirk behind the tubs edge.

“I-Ivar is just as reliable as his brothers if not more.” You muttered quietly as you held out a wash cloth for her.

“Who is the most handsome of my sons?” She teased as she began washing herself.

“Ivar.” You wish you’d at least paused before answering but you blurted out his name so fast it actually visibly shocked the queen.

“Why not ask to lay with him?” She giggled playfully it made you giggle too despite being a queen she was quite playful when she wanted to be.

“Because I am a slave and I have no right to ask a prince and son of Ragnar to lay with someone like me.” You laughed bitterly before giving her a small smile silently asking to move on from that topic.

…….

You were pouring the queen a drink when Ivar appeared at the door, dragging himself straight to the seat near the fire. You finished pouring the queen a drink before walking over to Ivar with a cup. You passed the cup to him with a smile before filling it up in silence.

He tried to keep a straight face but you could see he was trying to not smile. He suddenly patted the spot next to him signalling for you to sit with him. You sat down with no hesitation, placing your hands on your lap as you waited for him to ask or request whatever he was going to.

“I have never been with a woman. I don’t even know if I can.” He said so quiet you thought you’d misheard but you knew you hadn’t. This handsome and desirable Viking is a virgin.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of. I am thankfully still a virgin. I’ve been lucky in having mostly female mistresses.” You giggled softly as you moved a little closer to him.

“Would you have sex with me?” Ivar asked awkwardly looking away with a blush.

“I would really like to, yes.” You blushed but continued watching him. His eyes widened and he looked at you in amazement as if he was shocked by your answer.

“I thought you were most handsome of your brothers before you asked me. I even told your mother yesterday.” You mumbled shyly as you moved your hand closer to his on the seat.

“Really?” He asked with raised brows.

“Yes…c-can I kiss you?” You stutter not sure if casual affection would be okay. You were not his wife or his lover so you really had no right.

He nodded gently before turning towards you a little more. You leant up and placed a soft kiss on his lips your hands still resting on the bench. His right hand came up to cup your cheek softly as he kissed you so sweetly, it made you melt.

“You said no forcing the slave to do intimate shit!” You heard a voice shout behind Ivar. Ivar released you immediately like he’s done something wrong but you stood up angrily and you couldn’t stop your stupid mouth.

“This was completely consensual! I’m the one that asked to kiss him! Oh wait how about proof!” You shouted before straddling Ivar making sure not to hurt his legs in the process before kissing him roughly.

He gripped your waist tightly as he kissed you back, his tongue meeting yours in a battle for dominance. You let out a little moan when he bit your bottom lip softly before finally pulling away.

“Why would you want to when you could’ve had any one of us?” Sigurd asked in utter confusion.

“Do you even understand how much strength he has to drag himself round all day? While his bones break over and over? He is the strongest and the most handsome out of all of you and I would gladly pledge my undying loyalty to him not any of you. Sorry master Sigurd.” You huffed before turning to Ivar with a shy smile as you tried to climb off his lap but he held you there with a grin, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

You giggled and snuggled into him wrapping your legs around his waist so you were more comfortable. The queen was watching the entire situation in humour and relief that someone finally realised how unique and strong her youngest son is.

........

Later that night at dinner you sat in Ivar’s lap while he ate and fed you little bits. He was very sweet to you and it made your heart ache to be more than his slave. If only you could be his wife.

“Will you be joining me in my room tonight my sweet?” Ivar whispered in your ear playfully earning a giggled from you. You gave him a happy nod before he picked a little meat off the bone and holding out to you. You took the meat from his fingers before licking his finger seductively.

He bit his own bottom lip as he watched your tongue like he was hypnotised by you. You gave him a cheeky smile before placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Can you two save it for the bedroom?” Sigurd hissed as he slammed down his cup onto the table.

“Leave them be Sigurd I’m happy to see Ivar happy.” The queen scolded with a glare before she turned to her side to look at you and Ivar with a soft smile.

You roles your eyes to Ivar making him laugh before placing an amused kiss on your lips. You gave him an ecstatic smile at his proud face. You curled up against him shyly, but he happily wrapped his arm around you tightly using his other one to stroke your hair sweetly.

“Why don’t you go to my room and I’ll be in soon, hmm?” He muttered against your hair.

You gave a nod before standing up and making your way to Ivar’s room. You sat on his bed and waited patiently for him to drag himself into the room. It wasn’t much time before Ivar dragged himself into the room with no struggle. He climbed into the bed before turning to you to talk.

“Come here sweetheart.” He groaned as he dragged himself into the middle of the bed, his back against the headboard.

You crawled to him slowly until you were in his lap. He ran his hand from your thighs up to your rib cage so swiftly it made you gasp. You gripped his shirt tugging at it letting him know you wanted it gone. You quickly pulled the shirt off him after he gave you a nod and you were practically drooling.

“See something you like Y/N?” He chuckled deeply as he laid back observing your blush as his hands rested just beneath your breast.

“Touch me please Master.” You begged shamelessly.

“Call me Ivar my sweet.” He whispered as he sat up pressing his bare chest against your clothes one. You sat back enough to rip your entire dress off throwing it across the room leaving you completely naked.

He observed you for a few seconds with hungry eyes before bringing you into a searing kiss. His tongue dominated yours in seconds and you let him because giving him control was the least you could do for this strong man.

“Ivar…” You moaned against his lips as you took a break from kissing. Your hand trailed down his chest and suddenly his hand grabbed your wrist with a worried glance.

“I’m not sure if I can…” He muttered nervously but you gave him a sweet smile.

“You can. I promise you just have to want to fuck me enough.” You whispered seductively into his ear as you grind your wet pussy against his clothed crotch.

“Shit well that should be easy enough.” He groaned against your neck before he lay you down. His muscles bulged as he did making you whimper at the sight.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered against your naked breast before kissing his way to your nipple, catching it in his mouth and nipping on it earning a moan from you.

His hand traveled downwards towards your core and as soon as his fingers touched you, you let out a needy little whimper earning a groan from the man hovering above you with just one arm supporting him. When you hands tracked down his chest he didn’t stop you this time though he did tense up.

When you reached his pants you felt the outline of his very much working dick and letting out a moan at how big he was. Would that even fit? You didn’t care you wanted him. He looked down in pleasure as you rubbed his erection gently.

“You’re so big.” You whispered in pleasure as his finger rubbed circles over your clit so gently it was driving you mad. You pulled at the lace in his pants undoing it and pulling his stuff member out of his trousers. Ivar’s eyes widened slightly before he pulled you in for messy passionate kiss.

As his tongue fought against yours he pushed two fingers into you, curling them slightly. His hands were rough but they felt good either way. You felt yourself getting close as your moans got louder.

“Ivar m’gonna cum.” You arches your back pressed your chest to his as you thrust against his fingers. He gave you a smirk before moving his fingers faster as he used his thumb to put pressure on your clit.

“Cum for me my love.” At the affectionate nickname you came all over his fingers , your body shaking violently as you came down from your orgasm.

“Fuck me…please?” You begged desperately spreading your legs further so he could come closer.

When his tip brushed against your wets folds you both let out groans of want. His eyes were staring straight into yours as he caressed your cheek lovingly. You nuzzled into his hand kissing his palm lightly before looking at him.

“Ready sweetheart?” He asked gently before giving you a chaste kiss. You gave him a nod and he slowly pushed his tip into you with a breathless gasp. He kept pushing into you slowly, your nails digging into his skin on his back as he stretched you in a way your own finger never could.

When he reached your barrier he stopped to give you a slow sensual kiss as he pushed past it with a sudden firm thrust. You cried into his mouth as he stopped kissing away the tears that escaped your eyes.

After a minute or so you thrust your hips up experimentally, to see if it still hurt but instead of pain you just felt pleasure. You thrust you hips up again more forcefully and Ivar took the hint and began thrusting into you at a slow yet deep pace that had you begging for more.

He smirked down at you and he kept up with the agonising pace not saying a word as he watch you writhe underneath him. You were growing angry and before you could rethink you actions you rolled both of you over so you were on top.

Without a word you began lifting up and slamming down on him at the fast pace you wanted. Ivar let out an almost animalistic growl as he clutched you hips as took control. You felt your pussy clench around him as your second orgasm started coiling in your stomach. He must’ve felt it because he started rubbing circles on your clit and you bounced on his cock taking what you want from him.

“Are you going to cum all over my cock, my love?” He growled his nails digging into your naked ass as he helped you bounce up and down. That’s all it took to push you over the edge, his sickly sweet yet sadistic voice whispering dirty things.

“Y-Yes! Oh Ivar!” You screamed riding out your orgasm happy before collapsing on top of him.

He flipped you both over again and started pounding into you mercilessly. He was like an out of control animal and you loved it. You cling to the furs below you try to hold onto anything as you try to ground yourself.

“Oh gods your so big! Feel so full…” You moaned you voice was so desperate like you were addicted to him. His grunts and groans had you getting riled up all over again the feeling was different though it was stronger because you were over sensitive from recently cunning twice.

“Yes! Oh g-gods…Think m’gonna cum again!” You screamed as you felt your entire body start shaking, the pressure building more and more.

“Me too love…fuck.” He groaned as he thrust faster into you as his hand came down to brush across your clit in a fast brushing motion. And sudden your vision went white. You came so hard you felt liquid gushing out of you and Ivar had stopped his thrusting and pulled back to watch as you just kept shaking.

“Shit that was sexy...”he growled as he started thrusting even harder than before.

“M’Gonna fill you up my love.” He grumbled as his thrust became erratic and untimed.

You lay there still twitching as he used your pussy to finish himself off. As you felt the hot spurts hit your walls you moaned it made you feel full and warm. Ivar collapsed on top of you panting, his skin sticking to yours due to the damp skin.

You brought your arms up, wrapping them around him stroking his hair gently as you bother enjoyed your afterglow. He eventually sat up with a type of smile you had never seen on him, but it’s made your heart flutter.

“I’m glad I’m the first man to see you like that.” He mumbled shyly as his eyes flicked around to avoid yours.

“I am also glad, that no woman has had the pleasure of you as well. I came 3 times.” You giggled grinding down on his cock that was still inside you.

“Yes that last one was interesting. Does that normally happen?” Ivar asked with sudden interest his eyes quickly meeting yours.

“No that’s never happened when I’ve touched myself.” You answered honestly though a blush still made it’s way to your cheeks.

“I wanna do it again.” He muttered with a semi evil smirk before he thrust inside you again.

This was going to be a long night, you thought to yourself with a giggle.

……

The next morning you walked into the great hall right next to Ivar as you laughed and teased each other. As you got to the throne you tried to keep you face straight and curtsy politely but Ivar kept looking up at you with a childish grin and it was hard not to laugh.

“I see you two are getting on.” The queen chuckled as she observed you both.

“Master Ivar is treating me with much more respect than I probably deserve my queen.” You answered with a grateful smile to Ivar who just frowned.

“I want her to be a free woman.” Ivar declared with a glare making sure his mother knows he’s serious.

“W-What?! Ivar n-no the queen doesn’t ha-”

“Okay.” The queen interrupted you with a grin.

A smile spread across Ivar’s faces as your eyes just widened. You were free, just like that. You couldn’t believe it. This felt like a dream to you, you looked down at Ivar before your legs decidedly gave out causing you to fall down right next to him. He sat up and pulled you into his arms as tears fell from your eyes. You cuddled into his chest clutching onto him like he was your life line.

“Thank you!” You sobbed over and over again into his chest.

He stroked your hair cradling you in his arms, like you were the most precious jewel in the world. You looked up at him drying your eyes with a shy smile. He matched your smile as he caressed your cheek sweetly.

“I would also like to ask if you would like to be my wife?” He whispered down to you with a soft gaze. Your eyes widened once again, he wanted a boring ex slave to be his wife?

“Me? I am not worthy of you…a-and you barely know me…Why?” You asked so quietly you weren’t sure he even heard you until he spoke up.

“You are more than worthy my love. You have shown me I can be a normal man despite my crippled legs. I know that you would never betray me and I know that I wish for you to be my wife.” He stated gently his eyes shining with affections and in that moment you realised this man was a gift from the gods and you would happily marry him.

“Yes I will marry you.” You giggled happily before pressing a kiss to his lips.

[ladyhiddlestoner]

The New King

Part One

Part two is here

Summary: Loki wins the New York battle and becomes the king. He wants to play with his newest toy

Note:This is my first writing I hope you like it.

Warnings: Smut,(Well, there are a lot of warnings. Please don't read this if you're under 18.)

"Do you know who I am? Do you comprehend how little you are compare to me, human? You should be in awe of my mere presence. I am Loki, the god of mischief, your king."

He said this with a dominant voice as he was sitting on his throne with his scepter in his left hand, while she was kneeling in front of him with her hands tied behind her back. She felt so nervous, and her heart was racing.

She looked around. The room was full of guards.

"Look at me, midgardian girl. You know why you're here, don't you?"

She looked down and whispered quietly, "Yes."

He hummed in approval. "Say it. And make sure to be loud enough for everyone to hear. "

She paused for a moment and said, with a shaky voice, "I'm... I'm here to serve you, my king."

"That was good, my toy, but that wasn't loud enough. Louder. " He commanded.

She closed her eyes and repeated, this time louder. "I'm here to serve you, my king."

The god of mischief laughed and sat back on his throne. " Good girl!" he says as he sipped his drink.

"But I don't want your empty words of politeness. I want your fear. And your submission."

He sat up and started to walk towards her. He put his hand on her neck and squeezed a bit at first, but he started to increase the pressure. She yelped from the pain.

"I'll let you go on one condition, human. You submit completely and absolutely to me." He laughed at her tears and watched her in amusement.

"Say it. Admit that you are mine, and I am your master. Say it. I command you." He squeezed her neck even further. She started to choke, and then he loosened his grip a little.

She cried and begged, still couldn't breathe. "Please, I'm yours."

"Good, then say it louder. I want to hear you say it. " He squeezed her a little harder, just enough to remind her of her situation. She didn't know how, but she managed to speak louder. "I'm yours." She said it with a trembling voice, tears running down her cheeks.

He smiled with glee and released the squeeze on her neck.

"That's a good girl. I will reward your submission greatly." He kissed her cheek and stroked her neck.

She gasped as she tried to breathe.

He took her into his arms.

"Shh, shh, now, my pretty little toy...everything is alright." He stroked her hair and smiled at her, "You will be treated well."

He whispered to her, "It has been centuries since I have had my way with a human. You should be...thrilled about the honour of being my plaything. Now...kiss me."

She panicked, moving slowly towards him and blew a light kiss on his cheek.

He smirked and pulled her closer, kissing her lips passionately, "Good girl… That's it…"

She panted as her heart was racing.

"Now you're getting the hang of it." He smiled seductively. He looked over at the royal guards, who were watching with intrigue.

"Your body is mine now, pet, to do what I please with." He whispered in her ear.

"I am going to show you what a god can do to a mortal woman." He pulled her closer and whispered his intentions as he kissed her neck lightly. She gasped as his lips touched her neck. Her cheeks started to turn red.

He bit softly down her neck and started slowly untying her hands.

He whispered back to her, "You will give me much pleasure, pet, You have nothing to fear. This night is going to be...epic." He stroked her hands softly. Then he put his hands on her dress, starting slowly to undress her. She pulled back and whispered shyly, "But sir, the guards are here."

The god of mischief snickered and grabbed her hand to stop her,"Shhh, My Toy. They are here to watch us. They want to see what a god can do to a mortal woman, and you will show it for them." He gave her a seductive glare and sided his hand down her cheek.

"You are mine, girl." He whispered back to her, "and I will do as I please with you now."

"Please, maybe they can leave, sir." She pleaded.

"No, pet, they will not leave. They will stay here, in awe and envy of the great Loki's powers with a mortal woman." He took his hand and sided it past her ear and started caressing her. "There's nothing to be afraid of my toy, They enjoy it." He smirked. 

"But I've never been naked in front of anyone, sir. I can't." She looked down. 

He smiled seductively,"You don't have a choice now, girl. You're mine." He started slowly to took her dress off.

"Let them watch." He whispered to her.

Her dress fell off her chest as he tried to hide herself, She was glad that at least she still had her bra on.

He smiled and took her hand, making her stand in front of the royal guards with nothing but her underclothes on.

"This is what you want, isn't it, my pretty girl? To be adored? To have them envy your body? And me, as the owner...the master." He grinned.

She closed her eyes and shook her head in shame. Her cheeks were so red and her body was trembling. She looked at the god with pleading eyes. 

"Shhh, no shame, little mortal. This is why the gods took mortal girls...so they could serve them in very way." He said slyly, enjoying her embarrassment and shyness.

He chuckled and put his hand on her chin lifting her head up. He put a finger on her lip.

"Listen. You can hear them wanting it and enjoying. But you are mine to possess." He grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

He could feel her warm breath now. She put her hands on his chest and looked into his eyes,"But I've never done this before, it feels weird and wrong."

"That's what makes it interesting, my plaything. He smiles as he caressed her chin, and whispered right by her ear.

It's not wrong when you are under the protection of the god of mischief. You don't know it yet, but you crave this."

He kissed her throat again and whispered mischievously,"You're enjoying this...you're letting me take care of you... aren't you?"

She loved it when his lips touched her, and his voice and words were doing magic to her. She didn't know how, but she was convinced. Well, it wasn't like she had a chance against the god of mischief. She stood there and let him do what he wanted to her. And she nodded in defeat.

He smiled, he was amused, and he stroked her hair with his hand.

"That's it... That's a good girl. You are doing so well, my little courtesan." He looked at her, licking his lips.

"You are learning quickly that you can let go...submit...let me control you. It doesn't feel wrong, does it?" He asked seductively.

She didn't say anything, she just stood there obediently.

Loki caressed her cheek and pulled her face towards his. Somehow, she was trying to hide herself with his large figure, but he noticed that." You can't hide yourself away like this. I want to see you." He caressed her neck." And I want them to see it happen...okay?"

He whispers seductively. He gave her goosebumps each time he whispered in her ear. 

He leaned back and looked at her half naked body and admired her. He caressed her skin and ran his tongue across her neck. "My, my. What exquisite skin. Like gold under the moonlight. Such a delicacy." He smiled seductively. "You have no idea how badly I wanted to see this..." He bit her neck gently and whispered. 

She jumped a little from the pain.

"Shhh, that's okay." He bit down even harder, drawing a few trickles of blood. "I like it when you're in pain, my beautiful human."

"Does it hurt?" He whispered to her. "Or does it feel more like pleasure...?" He looked at her closely with a smirk on his face as she feels his hot breath on her neck. She felt herself grew wet, it felt so good. She let out a quiet moan. "Umm... It's kind of both." She said hesitantly.

He bit down harder than before, smiling as he saw the pained expression on her face.

"Oh…so the human body is quite sensitive to pain? And in such a pretty place, the neck? Do you know what happens when you mix pain with pleasure?"

She gasped at the pain and shook her head. She was scared by the way he was treating her. 

He saw the fear in her eyes and his smile grow to a wicked smile.

"Oh...but my toy...if I enjoy causing pain...and you enjoy receiving it...that means we're both winners...don't you think?" He said as he bit down harder, drawing more blood. She whispered from the pain and pleasure. 

"You like that, don't you?" He asked with an evil smile, then bit down harder, holding her still. "That's right...your pain turns you on, doesn't it...?"

She nodded. 

"Use your words, pet, and address me as your master." He ordered. 

"Yes ,master." She said with a low voice.

"Good girl...that's exactly what I like to hear." He saw the red bite marks covering her neck and felt her body shaking from terror. "Hmm...what else can I do to you?" His voice dripped with excitement.

"Why don't you just close your eyes..." He placed his hand over the bite marks on her neck." And wait... I will surprise you."

He put his hands on her breasts, and cupped them gently. Then he started to unclip her bra. "Hmm. ..Let's move on to something more ...interesting." He whispered in her ear.

"We'll see what happens when your body is fully exposed for the world to see… " He chuckled and whispered to her.

He caressed her body up and down.

"Good girl!"

She kept her eyes closed while her breath was heavy and her heart was beating so fast.

He moved to her lips and kissed her softly. While he was touching and stroking her breasts, he rolled his hands slowly around her nipples and said, "Yes, that's right...just give yourself to me, my dear." He whispered in a husky voice. 

He smiled slyly as he pulled her body closer, his voice still whispering in her ear.

"Good, toy. I'm so proud of you, little girl. You'll learn to enjoy being my plaything. And you'll learn to make yourself useful for me."

He ran his fingers across her lips.

"There's something more I want."He whispered suggestively. "Will you give me that for this night?"

"And what is that, Master?" She asked nervously. 

He chuckled; his voice was full of excitement. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun…"

His smile grew wider as he motioned for one of his guards to approach. He looked over at the guard and nodded. The guard moved closer to her and touched her cheek.

She looks scared and confused. She tried to avoid his touch, but he grabbed her waist.

Loki asked the guard while he was holding the poor girl in place, "Have you ever been with a mortal woman?" 

The guard said, as he was looking at her with lust and desire. "No, my lord, I haven't."

She blushed, she was really confused. Didn't he say that you are mine? She thought. 

The other guards envied his luck so much. Wanting to be in his shoes. 

"Oh, that's a shame. They are such fun. Look at her, so young and pure, ripe and ready." He smirked and turned to her. 

"Look at her, guard, have you not wanted to have a mortal woman before?"

 He gestured at her, and looked at her with a lustful glance. "Look at those curves, look at those eyes, and her lips, so, so kissable"A smirk formed on Loki's face, and he nodded at the shuddering girl indicating that she should give her body to the guard.

She was scared now, and it only became worse as he asked the guard to continue to touch her body. 

She looked at the god and protest. "But, please, you said that I'm only yours." She shuddered. 

"Only to me? Well, what kind of god would I be if I took ownership from others? You...my dear girl...are to be shared with my warriors." He smiled mischievously. 

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hi! Can you do a Morpheus x reader where she’s like his right hand and has been around since the beginning and is the second command and/or hand of the king and Morpheus is down bad and everyone can see he worships the ground she walks on and people who don’t know them are confused who is the ruler and who is actually the right hand because there so attentive to each other.the reader stays In The dreaming when Morpheus is captured and never stops trying to bring him home.and maybe a confession/proposal from dream

"The Right Honourable" - Morpheus x Reader

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.3k Sandman-inspired playlist

The dispute over Roaring Plains went back to the creation of Dreaming. Barty and Garth claimed that the land belonged to their respective ancestors and that either should be the rightful and exclusive owner of the seven hills. After aeons of arguing and waking up every entity nearby at the crack of dawn with their yelling, Barty and Garth decided to finally take the matter to the King. After all, whose judgement could settle their dispute if not the voice of the Lord of the Realm?

Morpheus had a curious habit of sitting on his throne leaning slightly to the left where you stood as if he was always expecting you to chip in like a temptress whispering sweet words that slowly ruin an empire. Only you were quite the opposite - a temptress that softened the strong hand with which he ruled like a warm sunray brushing against frosty cheeks on a winter morning.

Due to the slightly overwhelming emptiness of the throne room, the rushed footsteps belonging to Barty and Garth resounded throughout the hall in a loud echo. As they marched through the marble corridors, their blurry reflections on the polished marble following them in an equally irate manner, the two farmers made sure to keep their comically large distance between each other.

Barty, being significantly taller than his neighbour Garth, approached the throne much faster and wasted no time in starting a broil. "I have come here to regain my rightful land!"

"Your rightful land?!" Garth asked between his pants. He tried to push Barty but the taller man didn't even flinch - he seemed to be more angry about Garth touching his brand new velvet green vest than attempting to shove him. "Roaring Plains belongs to me, ya dobber!"

The marble corridors as if with newly-found spite managed to make the affront louder and sharper sounding. Hearing the tasteless insult, you wanted to cut the growing tension as soon as possible. It was no way to speak in the presence of a king. "Garth, if you could-"

"Hey!" the farmer interrupted you. A deep wrinkle appeared between his thick, furrowed eyebrows. His angered face was about as maroon as his plaid tam o'shanter. It was worth noting that he took the hat off a little too late considering he had originally entered the throne room of the palace with his head covered. "I'm trying to speak to our merciful lord!"

Suddenly, Morpheus clenched his hand in a fist and moved ever so slightly out of the throne, sitting now on its very edge - ready to jump off it at any moment, a poked lion ready to pounce. "You will address the Right Honourable with proper respect," he began in a bizarrely calm, wavering voice like all of his energy was directed at not lashing out at the very moment, "or you can leave my palace and hope I have too many duties to tend to on this day."

Garth almost opened a dispute but managed to bite himself in the tongue. Barty tried to discreetly slap his neighbour on the shoulder as though to bring him to his senses.

"Garth and I came to you, my merciful lord, due to an old dispute about the land, Roaring Plains. After generations of disagreeing, we decided to leave the judgement to you, the highest and most rightful instance in this beautiful realm."

You looked at Morpheus when Barty regurgitated sleazy brown-nosing you had heard many times before. Despite the general lack of expression on his face, you could quickly tell he was growing tired and angrier: it was visible in the way he sat, the way his foot tapped against the floor and even the way he occasionally inhaled in a strangely sharp way as if he closed his ears to all the sweet-talking and consciously focused on breathing calmly to not lose his grip on emotions. It was something you appreciated about him as a king as well as a man - Morpheus was pragmatic. He yearned for honesty and straightforwardness, which wasn't exactly common in the royalty of any kind.

"I've heard enough." Morpheus interrupted the respective ramblings of Barty and Garth, each of them telling tall tales as irrefutable proof of being the exclusive, rightful owners of the disputed land. Given the severity of the conflict, it was pretty surprising that both farmers stopped talking the moment Dream asked them to. Neither of them was willing to go back home defeated.

It was such a normal thing for you to lean down and whisper. Only occasionally did Morpheus not expect for you to chip in and on such rare instances he made it very clear - he leaned as far away from you as he could while remaining seated. "My lord, Roaring Plains is too much land for one man to farm, no matter how driven. They could share it, bring prosperity in place of envy."

Another normal thing regarding your council was the way Morpheus would look at you. His bright eyes stared into yours with a certain reflection, always making you wonder what in the world he was pondering while admiring your face merely inches apart. Sometimes his blue eyes seemed strangely vacant as if the moment you appeared before them all coherent thoughts left his mind and there was only you in the entire universe. But it was only a nice thought about a nice man - you never quite believe there was even a grain of truth in that little observation.

Visibly reluctantly, Morpheus finally looked away from you and at the two farmers who nervously waited for the king's judgement. Barty kept picking at the hem of his velvet vest, picking off invisible dust and lost strings, while Garth crumpled his hat in his clammy, stained hands.

"So it shall be," Morpheus announced garnering the attention of the farmers. Both of them raised their eyebrows in surprise, clearly not knowing what their merciful lord meant through his words. "Roaring Plains shall be shared by you and your families from this day forward. Dismissed."

Barty and Garth looked at each other unsure. The taller of them forced a smile on his face and reluctantly extended his hand to the other man. Garth looked at the hand, then at the man's face and slowly shook Garth's hand. Barty quietly said something to his neighbour only to put his arm around his shoulder afterwards and lead him out of the palace. The ancient dispute seemed to have disappeared in a matter of minutes.

"King Morpheus unites and not divides," you said in an exaggerated official tone when the two of you were alone again. "Sounds rather lovely, doesn't it?"

He stared at you with a shadow of a smile dancing across his face. Everyone knew about Dream's affection towards you, perhaps except for the King himself. Should he be asked about it, he'd deny any favouritism and simply state that he follows your advice because it's good advice. "I owe such praise to my Right Honourable."

Some, however, began to consider a certain shift of power having witnessed their lord's curious affection towards you. In a colourful analogy, one might compare the arrangement to a magician and his assistant: everyone knows that it's the assistant who does the real magic. While the audience is captivated by the showman pulling another bunny from a hat, the true prestidigitator has a chance to fool the onlookers right in front of their faces. Such nonsense would have been already disputed officially in the King's court but firm believers of that conspiracy remained too anxious of their lord to ever bring their suspicions to light.

If someone from the Waking World was to visit Dreaming, one of the first things they'd notice would be the strangely unchangeable weather and a suspicious lack of wind. The latter, however, was a much more complex issue as there were only two places in all of Dreaming where air moved: Fiddler's Green, with its gentle spring breeze and the terrace garden of the King's palace where an equally gentle zephyr brushed against vines, trees and flowers.

The case of said terrace gardens was interesting in itself as it wasn't as old as the rest of the palace. In fact, there were villages in Dreaming that were older than the flowery addition, although the thickness and sprawl of the red ivy could suggest otherwise. Aside from ivy, the garden had beautiful flowerbeds of white roses, buttercups, carnations and lilies. Morpheus always thought they bloomed so nicely only because they were envious of your own charm.

"Right Honourable?" The familiar voice distracted you from the thick book you had in your hands. Morpheus was strolling towards you, clearly not in a rush to get on with any duties left for the day. "Lucienne doesn't take lightly the books leaving her library."

The sun was behind your back, creating an angelic halo of bright light and blooming flowers that filled the terrace garden. If you were to be gone the next morning, that was the way Morpheus would have wanted to remember you: happy, with nature cradling around you to admire your beauty with him. Thankfully, you were going to be in the Dreaming the next day. And the day after that as well as many more centuries to come. You were sitting on a marble bench with carved decorative birds and for a moment, Morpheus considered whether you needed a blanket or a set of cushions. Surely a seat of stone could not be a comfortable reading place.

"I am sorry to inform you, my lord but I'm afraid I'm the only exception to that rule. Lucienne has told me that I might be the only person who actually returns them on time."

"What is it you're reading?" he said as he sat down beside you. It was a rare occasion that both of you could do something else besides tending to the kingdom. Quite curiously, even during those scarce moments of downtime, you still decided to spend it with each other.

"The Goldfinch, my lord." Keeping your finger inside it, you closed the book to show the minimalistic and yet very meaningful cover. "It's about a boy who steals his late mother's favourite painting from a gallery and runs across the world with it. He ends up in Holland..." your voice trailed away and Morpheus silently waited for the questions you were inevitably going to ask. "Do you think Holland's nice?" you said as you looked at him.

"Waking World is no place for us." He spared no time in repeating obvious rules you were more than familiar with - you were there when they were written.

"I know, my lord," you answered in a slightly sadder tone. Sometimes you wished he didn't remind you of the fate bestowed on you. "Yet the stories from there always make me wonder. Like the titular goldfinch: it's this small yellow bird with black wings and a black forehead. Must be beautiful with its noble look." Your free hand longingly traced the bird on the cover as you spoke. "I'd love to see one someday, even in someone's dream."

The next few hours Morpheus and you had spent in silence as you were reading the book and he seemed to be thinking about something. It was a comfortable silence: one that falls between people who know each other a little too well to always be talking about something; after aeons spent together, there was hardly anything new you could tell each other but it wasn't awkward or upsetting in any way. No, it was a very comforting feeling that one may know someone too well to flood them with their stories and thoughts. After all, to be known is to be loved. Your next day began with an unfamiliar chirping outside the palace walls.

And one day he simply did not come back. He made promises and assurances and for the first time since the dawn of times, the word of the Dream Lord was not kept.

The palace was... silent. But not in the sense of a lack of sounds, no. It was silent of life, as though the moment the Lord of Dreaming had left his realm, all of his creation began slowly dying. You could only hope their fatal condition was not unanimous to Dream's. It was as if in creating his realm, Morpheus placed a part of himself in each particle present in that world. With him gone, that easy-to-overlook and yet entirely essential element had disappeared too. The genius loci of Dreaming didn't simply change in the absence of its master, no, it was completely gone as if vacancy could be a wraith that haunts.

"You have done all you could, Right Honourable," Lucienne assured you. The echo of her voice made the marble halls feel even more empty and abandoned than when they were drowning in dreaded silence. "We can only await our lord's immediate return." In her mind, he was always on his way back, about to reappear the very next moment, despite long decades of his absence.

"'All I could' seems to not be enough, Lucienne."

"We all miss him. You're not alone."

"It's quite the contrary, my dear," you answered without looking at her at first. With Dream's prolonged absence, she was adamant about keeping you company. "Morpheus was someone else to each and every one of us. I can not understand your loneliness and you can not understand mine. We are both lonely in our loneliness, how sad is that?"

Lucienne didn't answer your question but truthfully, you weren't exactly looking for one.

Dream's throne wasn't comfortable to sit on but he wasn't a man chasing comfort. The seat was rigid, prickly and made one overly conscious of their body and how it was contorted. Maybe there was some timeless wisdom in the king's throne being uncomfortable to sit or perhaps Morpheus was a bit of a masochist. Funnily enough, both options seemed equally probable.

"He always hated when I-..." you hung your voice. A heavy sigh left your lips before you corrected yourself. "He hates when I sit here. He tries his best not to show it and pretends he doesn't see but I can tell. And now, when I have to, I dread it. Do you think he feels the same way when he sits on the throne? That he has to watch his breath or else the whole kingdom turns to ashes."

"Our lord Morpheus is a noble ruler. We must have faith in him, Right Honourable."

"That we do," you said quietly under your breath as you sighed. You remained seated on his throne, staring mercilessly at the palace door as if you could will his return into existence.

And one day, a long overdue day, he simply showed up - tired, confused, angry, barely dressed. He refused to talk at first, storming through the palace halls, filled with rage that would put gods of war to shame. Something dark got a hold of him and you couldn't imagine what that meant for Dreaming and you.

After a hundred years of staring at the entrance of the palace, the king had finally returned but not exactly the same as the day he left. There was a strange coldness in his attitude, something he never quite showed towards you or Lucienne. Not wanting to anger him further, you quietly sneaked out of the palace to wait out his labile mood in the gardens. Ever since he disappeared, you watched them only through the windows, never daring to leave the throne room in case Morpheus suddenly returned or a calamity fell on the realm and you were responsible for mending it.

What once had been a terrace garden, now was nothing but a sad remnant of happier days, a monument of longing and heartache. Ivy was completely dry, its red leaves were nowhere to be seen. Brown vines barely engulfed the walls of the palace, threatening to break off and fall with a mere gust of wind. The flowers, too, had forgotten their former glory; shrubbery that had died so long ago that even soil forgot what they once were. The palace haven was once filled with excited chirping, while now none could be heard. Out of the goldfinches Morpheus had made, only one of them was left: an exhausted, emaciated bird that occasionally let out a quiet, sad chirp as if he was still trying to call out to his long-gone brothers.

The sound of heels tapping against the tiled floor made you turn around and finally look away from the ruins that you once called a garden. He seemed to not look at you but rather at the shrubbery behind you - at the dry ivy, dead flowers and the golden bird that refused to fly farther than a meter or two. For a moment you felt invisible as Morpheus walked towards the railing to get a better look at the gardens below. Judging by the slight raise of his eyebrows, you knew it was the first time he was seeing them after his return: he didn't know what ruin awaited in place of flowers and birds.

"What happened to you?" you asked quietly after a moment of silence. You weren't sure yourself whether you meant his sudden coldness or the entire century he was gone. Both had left you worried and unnerved.

"I was imprisoned by an amateur witch," he answered quietly. His voice was filled with contempt. "He managed to steal my tools as well."

Quite unsurprisingly, you didn't know what to tell him. A simple 'I'm sorry' wouldn't cut it when a case of being held captive for a hundred years was considered. "Morpheus, I-" you stuttered.

"While in captivity, I have had a lot of time to think," he continued without letting you interrupt.

"About what?"

"Various matters," he said in a dismissive manner. "Things passed as well as those that are yet to happen. Perhaps even things I wish would become true." You couldn't know it as you were looking at the dead plants but Dream bore his eyes into you as he spoke of his potential wishes.

"Such as?" you coaxed him.

"Although your council has always been wise and dear to me, there was another reason why I followed your advice. To make you happy."

Why in the name of all things holy would the king of Dreaming be concerned with that? You furrowed your eyebrows and quickly turned your head to look at Morpheus who was already staring at you. There was an intimidating intensity in his eyes like he was about to bestow a deeply hidden secret upon you.

"Like this garden." He looked away from you for a moment. Staring at his profile, you saw him slightly push his lips tighter together. "Its only purpose was to cure your unhappiness that tore my heart. It failed its purpose as did I. And this little bird, which occupied your mind as much as... I'd like to."

His confession seemed strange, to say the least. Morpheus wasn't one to talk about his feelings and so whatever knowledge he just shared with you it was of utmost importance as well secrecy.

"Morpheus, I'm afraid I don't entirely understand what you're trying to say." To be exact, you had a burning suspicion as to what he was suggesting but you wanted him to say it out loud - just to make sure it wasn't your yearning imagination bending the edges of reality.

In a gentle manner, he took your hand into his and looked into your eyes. The intensity you had seen in them before had only gotten deeper, rawer. "I had miss you greatly, my Right Honourable. I'm asking you to become my queen if you're willing to have me as your king."

"My king?" you repeated. "It nearly sounds obscene if you put it like that."

The corner of his mouth slightly pulled up. For the first time in a hundred years, the lonely goldfinch chirped happily. Perhaps, its loneliness, just like yours, was about to end.

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Lowborn!Aemond x Highborn!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of Prince Daemon and a close friend of Prince Aegon who, like your father, is notorious for sneaking off to the streets of flea bottom. The one time you decide to join him on his nightly endeavours, you run into a charming yet mysterious someone who’s as beautiful as the sapphire that’s replaced one of his eyes.

Now a year later after the both of you went your separate ways, it would seem like the goodbyes you both exchanged were not permanent.

Warnings: none.

part 1, part 2, part 3

Part 4 [final chapter]

Aemond felt that Ashai seemed to be dull in comparison to King's Landing but then again he sensed that it was simply because he was presently a bit down after having to say goodbye to his princess.

Stop it, he scolded himself, you knew this was going to happen the moment you dared to fall for her.

Still, it had been well over a few months since he'd made his arrival to this new town and it was bothersome that he still felt for you the same way he did when he first kissed you.

Aemond had taken up a proper job this time, instead of resorting to his regular ways of stealing. He had started out as a chimney sweep for a Barron; Robert, a widower, who lived further down the harbour in a lavish manor. Then later he'd been given the job to read to the older man since he was a bit short-sighted. Eventually, Robert began to treat Aemond like a son, even though he had one of his own. He had Aemond dine at the table with him and his boy. The baron and his son weren’t as close and with the man taking a liking toward Aemond, it only increased the animosity between father and son.

Robert had then begun to take Aemond's input regarding his business of wine and Aemond was happy to give insights, which proved to be beneficial to the business. Aemond was granted access to the manor's library and he spent his spare time reading. He began to take an interest in history, particularly the Targaryen dynasty. Of course, it had nothing to do with you.

Aemond was well aware of the fights that arose between Robert and his son on his account and had many times considered leaving but the Baron told him to ignore his boy. Finally there came a day when the Baron's son wanted to make a life of his own, away from this small town. He took whatever wealth he needed and left, leaving the Baron quiet heart broken.

"Aemond" Robert called for the boy who was sitting in the library but a few feet away from him "come here son"

Aemond put away his book, slightly annoyed that he was interrupted when he was getting to the best part. He was reading about this war dragon, Vhagar.

"Yes, sir?" he politely asked as he sat in a chair across from the older man.

"I have no wife, and now it would seem that my son has left as well" he spoke in a calm voice "my business has been doing well as of late, I suppose I have to thank you for some of your suggestions"

"I was happy to help" Aemond smiled.

"Yes, and it would seem that the royal family too has much appreciation for my wine," he said rather proudly "They wish to serve it at a grand feast they’re having at the end of this month, a feast to which I have received an invite. How would you like to go with me, as my heritor"

"Uh.. I-" Aemond was at a loss for words. Was he truly considering taking him to the royal feast?

"I'm getting old and more weak by the day, I need someone to take on my business and carry my name after I have passed" he went on "Someone who is equally just as involved with the winery as I have been"

"That is quiet an honour, sir" Aemond subtlety pinched his arm to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

"First off, we need to buy you something better to wear. Maybe something that might catch the eye of the princess Y/N"

"Princess Y/N" Aemond's heart skipped a beat at the mention of your name "she-she'll be at the feast?"

"Of course she'll be at the feast, it's been arranged for her to begin with," Robert said as a matter-of-factly "Oh you don’t know about the details of the feast do you?"

Aemond only nodded in confusion.

"It is a gathering for the princess to find herself a suitor"

As excited as Aemond was for the feast, he felt just as much nervous. The boy felt like a fish out of water. He had never stepped foot inside the castle and once he found himself in the midst of nobles, he immediately felt out of place. And it did not help when people constantly kept turning to stare at him and his eye patch, it made him even more self-conscious.

"Don’t fidget" Robert whispered and Aemond immediately stopped fiddling with the buttons at the cuff of his sleeve.

The hall in which the feast was being held was rather spacious and Aemond immediately felt so small.

"I'll only be a moment" Robert told him before he wandered off to find the king and the queen, to thank them for the invite, leaving a rather nervous Aemond amidst the sea of nobles.

You were seated at the large table next to Aegon. You huffed a sigh as you slouched in your chair and Aegon snickered at the sight.

"You have a room full of suitable husbands and this is how you spend the evening?" he raised a brow as he playfully nudged you "you should feel lucky you get to pick who you marry, a privilege I was not granted sadly"

"I hardly call this a privilege" you scoffed in response, reaching for your goblet of wine "all these men are here only because of my title. Besides, I did not wish to get married so soon"

"Remember when we were children, we promised each other that if we didn’t find a partner, we'd marry each other" Aegon chuckled at the memory "gods, we were so naïve"

You smiled softly as you took a sip of your wine. Things were so much simpler when you were younger. All you had to worry about that time was which dress you'd wear for the day.

You lazily looked around and almost choked on the wine you were drinking. You immediately spat it back into the cup, not caring how improper that was of you.

"Are you alright?" Aegon asked with concern, patting your back as you began to cough.

"I'm fine" you responded in a strained voice before you quickly stood up, your chair screeching against the stone floor as you pushed it backwards. You left the table in a hurry, not bothering to say an 'excuse me' before you walked toward the crowd of nobles.

"Finally" Aegon sighed, thinking that at last you decided to go and actually talk with the men who had come with hopes of being betrothed to you.

You did not care about them. No, a certain someone with an eye patch, who was looking around like a lost puppy had caught your eye instead.

You were unsure at first, if it was truly him. What would he be doing at the Red keep? He was in Ashai to your knowledge or maybe he had left for Dorn, where he'd told you his younger sister was staying ever since she joined the sisters of the faith. Still, there was an ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe, it was him.

"Aemond?" you called out, expecting no reaction from the boy who was curiously looking around as he fidgeted with his sleeves.

To your surprise, he turned at the mention of his name, his blue eye meeting yours.

You froze, as if you'd seen a ghost or worse: as if you were dreaming. Your breath hitched in your throat and by the looks of it, even Aemond seemed stunned.

"What are you-"

"How have you-"

The both of you spoke at the same time and immediately, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. Aemond only smiled, allowing you to speak first.

"You're here" you simply stated, taking a step toward him and Aemond instinctively responded by holding out his hand for you to take, just like how he always would when the both of you met in secret.

"I am" his voice came out in a whisper when he felt you slip your hand into his.

Your eyes darted from his face toward his neck and you reached out with your other hand to gently examine what caught your attention. Aemond drew a sharp breath when he felt your cool fingers graze against the skin of his neck as you touched the piece of jewellery he wore. It was a simple silver chain with a small ring dangling from it. Your ring.

"You still have it" the corners of your lips turned up to form a smile.

"Of course" he looked down adoringly at you as he tried to pinch himself to make sure this was real, a gesture that you happened to catch.

"I'm here" you assured as you gently caressed his cheek, right below his scar and Aemond tilted his head a bit to further press his cheek into your palm.

"How did you.." you wanted to asked him how he entered but you knew it sounded rude. By the way he was dressed, in a sharp formal attire, there was a chance he was accompanied by someone "Who are you here with?"

"Oh, the Baron of Ashai, Robert" he told you, momentarily looking away to find him in the crown but to no avail. He turned to look at you again "He's the one who is supplying wine for the feast"

"You're with the Baron?" You repeated, a bit shocked "he mentioned he was here with his son"

"Ah well, he sort of-" Aemond heaved a nervous sigh "he's named me his heritor. I must admit, him calling me his son is a touch overwhelming"

"So that means you’re a Barron" You asked to which Aemond responded with a shy grin. Gods you had missed his smile.

"Man with a title" he looked down at you with a playful smirk "something I recall being of some sort of importance when it comes to courting you"

You bit your lip to control your girlish giggle but it didn’t work; Aemond never failed to make you laugh.

"I take it you are hoping to win my hand?" you asked with the same amount of playfulness to which Aemond simply shrugged, pretending at first that he didn’t care which only made you giggle more to his reaction.

"Will kissing you help me being named victor?" he asked slyly and you rolled your eyes at his playful demeanour.

"It most certainly will" you smiled but quickly placed your finger on his lips when he leaned closer. You went to whisper in his ear when you saw confusion flash across his face. He clearly did not know of the mannerisms one had to follow at court and that was alright, you were patient enough to tell him about each one "not here. It would give rise to quite a scandalous rumour"

"Oh" he cleared his throat "apologies, I thought that since-"

"It's alright" you assured him with a gentle squeeze of his hand "come, I have to introduce you to my kepa"

"Kepa?" Aemond asked as he followed you.

"My father" you translated "he's at the table with the rest of my family"

"Oh your family" Aemond felt the nerves getting to him again. He did not know if he would manage to maintain his calm composure in front of the King and the Queen "m-must I meet them?"

"It is a requirement if you wish to court me" you playfully nudged him "don’t worry, they're not as intimidating as they seem. Besides, you do have to speak to them at some point if you wish to discuss a possible betrothal"

"I- I can ask for your hand in marriage?" Aemond had never been more grateful for his title and suddenly seemed to be a touch more eager than yourself to meet your family.

As you walked, you turned to look at him and without thinking you leaned toward him and kissed his cheek, catching him by surprise.

"Thought you said kissing was off limits for now" he grinned.

"I think an innocent kiss to the cheek is alright" you smirked up at him to which Aemond chuckled in response.

The both of you walked toward you family, laughing joyously, hand in hand.

Taglist: @yentroucnagol @kateris-world @praline357

[pedrito-friskito]

the domestication of steven grant rogers - a study in red, white, and blue

summary: when Steve came out of the ice, you were one of the first people he met outside of S.H.I.E.L.D., and quickly became the only thing that made sense to him.

warning: smut, fluff, my heartache over steve rogers, explicit sex, canon-typical violence

a/n: I wrote this last year (DAMN) in honour of my favourite star-spangled man with a plan’s bday, and since it’s been a whole year and I haven’t posted a steve fic on here yet, here ya go!

| main masterlist | ao3 |

2012

Steve Rogers has gone to the same cafe every day, sat at the same table, drank the same black coffee, since he came out of the ice. When the weather’s nice, he takes the table in the middle, with the clear view of the clock above Grand Central Station. If not, then the one just inside the cafe, right beside the front door. Sitting at the table, he fills journals with notes about what he’s learned, general musings, sketches in the corners of the pages.

He’s spent every night sifting through the files S.H.I.E.LD. provided him with, catching up on some of what he’s missed. His head spins over something new every day, and so he’s kept up some sort of routine. Same cafe, same table, same coffee. Something, anything to keep him tied to the earth, make him feel some sort of normalcy once more.

He learns the staff rotation of the cafe pretty quickly. During the week, there’s an older woman named Dolores who brings him his order without a word. She introduced herself the first day he went to the cafe, quickly understood Steve wasn’t one to talk, and kept the coffee coming. On the weekends, a tall, lanky guy named Eric who doesn’t have the same social radar Dolores does, and will talk Steve’s ear off for an hour before finally leaving him in peace.

And then, a few months into his routine, something changes, and it throws him through a loop.

He shows up Monday morning, a fresh journal tucked under his arm and a perfectly sunny day ahead of him. He takes his normal table outside, cranes his neck towards the cafe entrance, but instead of Dolores’s familiar figure, he sees you.

And damn it all if you don’t take his breath away.

He catches himself. His feelings for Peggy Carter are still fresh, the thought of what they could have had if he had survived hanging around the back of his head like an unwelcome shadow. He knows she moved on, that she married, had kids and built a life with her husband, and he can’t fault her for it. Knowing what he does, he’s glad, in a way, that she did, that she didn’t let the loss of him get in her way. Peggy’s still alive, he knows. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to go visit her in Washington, not yet. 

You walk towards his table, steaming cup of coffee balanced on the tray in your hand, an easy smile on his face. Y/N your name tag reads, and he commits it to memory. There’s a uniform for the cafe, a light yellow button up and a black skirt, and you wear it well, the shirt tied up at your waist, red chucks on your feet, hair piled atop your head in a messy bun. The skirt clings to your curves in a way that has Steve stifling the blush that creeps up the back of his neck, and his mouth goes dry when you come to stop in front of him, lifting the coffee cup from his tray and setting it in front of him.

“You must be Steve,” you say, and your voice is melodic in a way that makes Steve want to ask you a million questions, if only to hear you talk more. In an instant, he’s hooked.

He’s staring, he realizes after a moment, his mouth apparently forgetting how to stay shut and his palms going sweaty. “I…uh…yes.”

The smile you give him makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Dolores told me about you. You were her favourite regular. She told me to take good care of you.”

“What happened to her?”

You spin the tray once in your hand and then tuck it under your arm, pulling an order pad from the apron around your waist. “She retired. Her and her husband are moving to Florida, right on the beach.”

“Sounds peaceful,” he says.

You hum in agreement. “It does, doesn’t it? But I’ve got her shifts now, so you’ll have to settle for me instead.” Across the tables, towards the cafe entrance, someone calls your name, and your head turns toward it. Steve is still staring. “I gotta go, but let me know if you need anything, okay? Table’s yours as long as you want.”

He watches you go, until you’ve disappeared into the cafe once more, and an elderly man at the table beside him pipes up, leaning back over his chair. “Ask for her number, you moron.”

Steve spends the rest of the day hunched over his journal, pencil in hand, sketching. He’s never been great at faces, but you make enough appearances outside that he gets all the angles he needs. You catch him staring a few times, winking when his gaze meets yours, and he blushes every time.

The sketch is rough, and the paper is filled with a few different versions, but it’s still your face. He’s pretty pleased with himself, and tears the page from the journal. He scribbles a note beneath his sketches, and leaves the page folded beneath his empty coffee cup, a ten dollar bill along with it.

See you tomorrow.

+

When Dolores announced her retirement, and your boss at the cafe asked if you were willing to pick up the extra shifts, you were more than happy to oblige. You were bouncing between two jobs, the cafe at Grand Central, and some retail shop on Broadway, but you liked the cafe better. The atmosphere was nicer, the pay was better, and people tended to tip heavier when they were in a hurry to catch a train.

So you said yes, altered your schedule, and gave your two weeks at the other place. Dolores gave you the rundown of her day-to-day, when she’d come in, what she’d get done before the cafe opened. She also filled you in on all of her regulars; where they sat, their orders, how long they usually stayed. She had it down to a science, nearly, and supplied you with detailed notes in a tiny red book. 

Steve was the latest entry on the list, his details specific enough: table in the middle (outside unless it’s raining - right by the door if it is), black coffee (keep it coming), he’ll stay as long as he needs, handsome.

The last word was underlined three times, so hard the mark had scratched through the page, and it made you laugh.

She was right, he was handsome. However, she’d failed to mention who he was, though part of you wondered if she knew.

Captain America. 

Captain America was now one of your regulars. Captain America had spent the day drawing sketches of you from his spot outside, and had left you the evidence with a promise scrawled along the bottom of the page: See you tomorrow.

You certainly hoped so.

The history was common knowledge. You’d read the books in high school, listened to the lectures in the history elective you’d taken in college. You knew the story, at least what was shared with the public: the experiment that had turned him into the super-soldier he still was, all the lives he’d saved crashing a plane carrying enough explosives to level the state. They’d searched the world over for his body, but if they’d ever found him, you didn’t know about it.

Until you stepped out of the cafe with a black coffee on your tray and realized you were delivering it to Captain America himself. He’s just as handsome in real life as he’d been in the photographs you’d seen, maybe even more so. The same floppy blonde hair, combed to the side in true forties fashion, piercing baby blues that would make the ocean jealous, broad shoulders that were definitely something to write home about. He was…Captain America. Steve Rogers.

Your interaction had gone smoothly enough, and you’d kept an eye on him through your shift. You didn’t press him; he looked…spooked, in a way, like a deer in the headlights, and you didn’t want to make it worse. He didn’t once move from his table, only asked for a refill after you pressed him, and spent most of the day hunched over his journal. Towards the end of your shift, you’d stepped outside to find his seat empty, and gone to clear the table, only to find a folded piece of paper beneath his empty cup, with a ten dollar bill.

It was you. He’d drawn you. Over and over again.

It occurs to you that in another circumstance, maybe you’d maybe find it creepy, but the detail is so good that you find it almost…endearing? He even managed to sketch the clover-shaped necklace at your throat, a gift from your parents when you graduated.

You put the paper in your purse, hang up your apron, and head out of the cafe. The night shift has arrived, and you bid everyone a goodnight before stepping outside.

And straight into Steve Rogers’s chest.

“Oh!” you cry out, startled and nearly tripping over your own shoes. Steve catches your wrist easily, his grip warm and his skin soft on yours. “I thought you went home.”

“I did,” he replies, “did some thinking, decided to come back and ask if you’d like to have dinner with me?” His voice hitches at the end with the question, and you can feel a grin pulling at your mouth. He starts talking again before you can answer, dropping your wrist and taking a step back, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck and staring down at his shoes. “I’m sorry, if that’s too forward, I just…well, you’re very nice. And beautiful, and I…” He trails off, finally looking back up at you. “I am not very good at this.”

You wave him off. “No such thing. I like the forwardness. Dinner sounds great.” You look down at your shirt, stained with coffee from a rogue pot and your skirt dusted with flour from the pastries you’d helped bake earlier in the day. “But if we’re going to go to a restaurant, I need to change first.”

“Of course,” Steve says, gesturing with a hand in a way that makes you giggle. “I should have just asked for your phone number, like a normal person, made plans for another day when you haven’t been on your feet for eight hours.”

He pauses for a breath, but then opens his mouth to keep talking, and you lift a quick hand, pressing your finger to his lips. There’s something so endearing about him, you can’t get past it. The whole man-out-of-time thing is working, not to mention those blue eyes make you want to roll over and die. “Steve,” you say, laughing, “it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you drop your hand. “It’s been a long time since I asked a dame on a date.”

You scoff a laugh. “Dame?”

He blushes. “Sorry. Girl. Woman?”

He’s got you laughing again, and you shake your head at him. “I live a few blocks over. I’ll change, and then we can go to this little Italian place on the other side of the park.”

Steve doesn’t say anything more, but just nods. He offers you his elbow, bending slightly, and you slip your hand into the crook of his arm and lead him away from the cafe.

+

Half an hour later, Steve is standing outside your apartment building, leaning against the fence on the sidewalk. You’d asked if he wanted to come up with you, but he’d declined. Was that appropriate now? To be alone in an apartment with a girl you barely know? Woman? Dame? His head is spinning, but he’s hooked onto one thing: you said yes. If he’s honest, it’s the best thing that’s happened to him since he came out of the ice.

The door opens again and you step outside, yanking it shut behind you, and for the second time that day, you take his breath away. Gone is the coffee-stained uniform, replaced with dark pants that cling to you, and a white top made of flowing material that makes Steve think of fairies from stories he read a long time ago. 

You’re beautiful, and he’s struck by it. Again.

“Ready?” you ask, your lips painted a deep pink colour. He wants to kiss you. Is that appropriate? Damn it.

“Uh, yes,” he replies, and offers you his elbow once more.

He lets you lead as you walk through the streets of the city. It’s familiar to him in a strange way; the streets themselves haven’t changed much from what he remembers, but the buildings that line either side are completely different in some places, identical to his memory in others.

You both talk as you walk. You more than him, but you don’t seem to mind. He asks more about you. Did you grow up in the city? No, you’re from the South originally, but your parents had moved a lot when you were a teenager and you’d ended up in New York for school. Any siblings? Only child. What did you go to school for? You were a history major in Columbia, graduated a few years back with a minor in creative writing as well.

Learning what you studied answers his next question, the one he’s been dying to ask. “So you know who I am.”

You pause, seemingly choosing your words before you reply. “I do. The second World War was one of my focuses in senior year. I wrote my final thesis paper on Allied experimentation.”

Steve’s brows lift. “Impressive. I might know a thing or two about that.”

The easy smile returns to your face, and Steve’s gut clenches when you bite your bottom lip gently. “Your name came up once or twice. I did a lot of research, and I’ll tell you, I don’t usually know my dates this well before meeting them.” 

“I’m assuming you don’t usually date men from your history books.”

Something changes in your expression then, you brows pulling down. “We don’t have to talk about it, you know. What happened to you. I mean, if you want to, then I’m all ears. It must be…shocking, I don’t know.” You pause, put your hand on his arm, stopping you both. You’re in the middle of Central Park now, the streetlights just starting to come on. “Are you okay?”

Steve balks for a second at your question. The truth of it is no, he’s not okay. 

It’s been a strange few months to say the least, and he doesn’t know the last time someone asked him if he was okay. They’ve poked and prodded him enough to know he’s healthy, but save for Fury, few have had the courage to speak to him, let alone look him in the eye. Most people he’s encountered in public have either resorted to whispers behind their hands, or snapping pictures from afar.

And yet here you are. 

“I’m fine,” is what comes out of his mouth instead, hands clenching into fists at his sides and continuing on down the pathway. After a moment, he feels your hand around his wrist, your skin warm against his. He lets you unfurl his fingers, and your hand slips into his.

“I could try and help, if you’d like,” you offer, double-stepping to get a little closer to him. “Answer whatever questions you have, try and catch you up on the world. I know my history pretty well, and I’m a master of reality television.”

His brow lifts. “You’d do that? I’ve got a lot of questions. Lot of stupid ones, probably. Like, what’s a selfie?”

You let out a laugh, and Steve’s gut twists. Your laugh is just as pretty as your face, and he wants to drown in it, wants to hear it again as soon as it stops.

“Come here,” you say, your grip tightening on his hand and pulling him closer to you. You angle yourself in front of him, pulling something rectangular and metallic out of your pocket. Your finger swipes across a blank screen, illuminating it, and it takes Steve to realize that it’s a phone. The screen is covered in tiny icons of all different colours, and you press down on one. A moment later, the screen changes, and he can see the two of you reflected back on the screen.

You hold the phone at an arm’s length, reaching back with one hand to pull at his shoulder. He crouches slightly, positions his face close to yours.

“Now, smile!”

You press a button on the screen, there’s a strange sound from the phone, and you pull it close to you again, swiping at the screen again and pulling up the photograph. It’s the two of you, a beaming smile on your face, a toothy grin on Steve’s. He’s in awe, shocked that you can see the picture right away.

The confusion must be clear as day on his face, because you slip the phone back into your pocket and take his hand again. “Okay, maybe we need to start a little smaller. Do you have a cell phone?”

S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him some sort of phone when they’d released him into the world, with a quick tutorial on how to use it. He still didn’t totally understand it, but he didn’t have anyone to talk to, so he hadn’t investigated it further.

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the silver flip phone, and hands it to you. You flip it open, start tapping away at the keypad, and then hand it back to him. “There. Now you have my number. Number two on your speed dial.”

“My what?”

“Press the two,” you say around a smile, “and it’ll call me.”

“Huh.”

He slips the phone back into his pocket and takes your hand again. “It’s a start,” you say, lifting a shoulder.

You go a few more steps before he asks another question. “What about the internet?”

“Oh.” You blow out a breath, shaking your head. “Food first, Captain. Then we can get into that.”

+

Dinner is lovely, and Steve Rogers is nothing short of a gentleman.

You sit out on the terrace, the whole patio covered in little twinkly lights that are cliche as anything, but still put a smile on your face. The food is delicious, as it always is, and the expression on Steve’s face when he tries your gnocchi keeps the smile in place. You share a bottle of wine, and he’s quick to offer you his jacket when he catches you shivering at the slight chill in the air.

He has a lot of questions, but you didn’t expect anything less, and you’d meant it when you offered your help. The internet probably takes the longest time to explain - and admittedly, there are parts of it you still don’t understand - but he has a decent grasp by the end of it.

By the time dinner and dessert are done, you’ve covered the important parts of 2012, best that you can think of. You’re sure you’re missing something, and you can tell by Steve’s expression that he has more questions, but you’re both tired with the information overload, yawning around your wine glasses when the waiter brings the check.

You reach for your wallet, but Steve waves you off, pulling a surprisingly thick money clip from his pocket and pulling out enough bills to cover the check and a decent tip. “Apparently whatever money I had back in the forties just sat in the bank collecting interest for seventy years,” he tells you, tucking the clip away. “I’d buy you breakfast too, if you’d let me.”

Your brows raise. There’s an innuendo there, and you know he doesn’t mean it that way, but to say your mind hasn’t wandered in that direction a few times over the course of the evening would be a lie. “I start work at eight,” you reply, “but before that, I’m all yours. If you’re willing to get up that early.”

The waiter returns to collect the cash, thanks Steve for the tip, and he waits for the waiter to disappear before responding, leaning his elbows onto the table. “I slept for seventy years, Y/N. I’ve had my fill. Besides, I’d rather spend my time with a beautiful girl than dreaming of a life that isn’t mine anymore.”

The words are both sincere and sad, and it pulls at something in your chest. Before you can think any better of it, you lean forward, reaching for the collar of his shirt. Your fingers curl in the fabric, thumb pressing against a button, and you bend across the table, your lips meeting Steve’s in a sweet kiss that tastes like wine and tiramisu.

When you pull back, he’s flushed as anything, and you sink back into your seat slowly. “I’m sorry,” you mumble out, chewing your lip, “if that was too forward.”

His gaze goes far off for a moment, and then focuses on you again. “I like the forwardness.”

“Was that your first kiss since 1945?” you ask.

He swallows hard. “…yes.”

You nod, reaching for your wineglass and draining it to it’s dregs. “Not bad.”

Steve just starts to laugh, a low chuckle that shakes his shoulders. His laugh is infectious, and it’s half a second before you’re following suit, laughing along with him. After a second, he gets to his feet, offers you his hand, and leads you off the patio and back towards the park. You’re both quieter on the way back, full of food and wine and information.

All too soon, you’re standing outside your apartment again. You give him back his jacket, thank him for dinner, and ask Steve if he wants to come up for a cup of coffee, but he politely declines. “I’ll see you for breakfast?”

You nod. “Pick me up at six thirty?”

“It’s a date,” he replies, and you go to turn away, stepping up towards the door that leads into your apartment. He reaches for your wrist before you can reach for the door, and spins you backwards, your feet slipping on the step. You all but fall into his arms, and he catches you easily, his arms around your waist, yours around your shoulders. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you murmur, and this time, he’s the one that kisses you.

It’s different than the soft kiss you’d shared at the restaurant, which was quick and gentle and over before it had even begun. This is much different, his lips moulding against yours in a way that has your toes curling in your shoes, your fingers twisting in the fabric at his collar. Your bodies press together, heat sparking deep in you, and you can feel his palm pressed against the small of your back.

He makes a noise when your teeth glance across his bottom lip, and you pull back, nearly stumbling out of his grip. He follows you up the step, crowding you into the corner beside the doorway, his arms finding your waist once more. You fist both hands in the front of his jacket, pulling him closer, your mouth on his. It’s…intoxicating.

You pull away before he does, and Steve’s lips are a perfect shade of pink, his cheeks flushed in a way that makes you want to kiss him some more. “Are you sure you don’t want to come upstairs?”

He chuckles again, and takes a step back, stuffing his hands in his pocket. “I should go home. To my apartment. Where I live.” There’s a pause, and he leans forward, kissing your lips once more before pulling back again. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You smile, the taste of him still on your mouth. “Goodnight, Steve.”

You watch as he heads down the sidewalk, waiting until his figure completely disappears from view before you head inside yourself.

+

Steve doesn’t get much sleep. Not that he’s really been getting any; since he came out of the ice, it’s like everything is constantly on high alert, and his body doesn’t want to stop. He can’t stop.

And then there’s you. You, who have completely turned the world on it’s head, before he could even recover from the first flip. You, with your pretty eyes and your voice like a song he’s never heard before, but somehow known all his life. With your laugh and your questions and answers. He could have sat on that patio forever, listening to you talk, watching you move.

It’s a miracle he didn’t stand outside your apartment and kiss you until the sun came up.

He spends the night as he normally does, sifting through the piles of information S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him, flipping through his journals. He finds himself sketching faces; Bucky Barnes, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, the Howling Commandos. Faces he remembers, faces he’ll never see again.

But then, just as he had at the cafe, he draws you.

The sketches are different than what he’d drawn earlier in the day. You’d worn your hair down to the restaurant, the ends curling around your shoulders. He’d wanted to run his fingers through it, and cursed himself for not doing so when he kissed you outside your apartment.

By the time the sun comes up, his pencils are dulled and one of his journals is full. He changes quickly, swapping his button up for a white t-shirt and his leather jacket. Is it awful that part of him hopes it’s cold outside, just so he can see you wearing his jacket again?

The subway is bustling for six in the morning, and he hangs around the doorway, waiting for his stop with his hands stuffed in his pocket, foot tapping impatiently.

Bucky would give him hell, to see him all doe-eyed and anxious over a girl like this, but things are different now. Everything is different now.

You step onto the sidewalk as he’s approaching your building, dressed in your cafe uniform once again, a denim jacket tucked under your arm. You spot him quickly, stepping off the porch and heading for him. Steve’s not sure what to do with his hands, not sure how to greet you, but you beat him to the punch, a beaming smile on your face as your hand settles on his chest and you lean up on your toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Good morning,” you murmur, and when you pull back, he can see your eyes are a little droopy with sleep, that infectious smile still on you lips. Your hair is tied up again, a stray strand curling around your cheek, and before Steve can stop himself, he reaches up and tucks it behind your ear.

“Morning,” he replies, then offers you his elbow. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you say, your hand slipping into the crook of his arm. He lets you lead again, and to his surprise, you don’t take him to a restaurant, instead to a bagel cart a few blocks down from Central Park. You order two everything bagels, bacon and cheddar cheese, and two coffees, one black, one with cream and sugar. He reaches for his money clip again but this time it’s you waving him off. “Put it away,” you say over your shoulder. “I got this one.”

Bagels and coffee in hand, you lead him through the park, down a few pathways he hasn’t ventured through yet, and come upon a mostly empty stretch with benches lining either side. You take the closest one, sitting down, tucking one leg up underneath you. Steve sits down beside you, and you hand him his bagel and coffee.

You eat in silence for a while, but Steve can’t help the groan that escapes him when he takes a bite of the bagel. You let out a little giggle, smiling at him around yours. “They’re good, huh? Best bagel in the city, I swear.”

“I think this is the best bagel I’ve ever had.” His knee knocks against yours. “Although, the company definitely makes it better.”

Your eyes light up in a way that makes his heart leap in his chest. “Are you flirting with me, Captain Rogers?”

Surprising both you and himself, Steve leans in and plants a kiss on your lips. You make a little startled noise that makes him smile against your mouth, and you taste mostly of coffee. A little bit like bagel, but he doesn’t mind. 

For a moment, he thinks, everything else can wait. It can all wait. For a moment, just a moment, he just wants to be this. He just wants to sit on this bench and kiss a beautiful girl until he forgets his own name.

It can all wait.

He’s been so tired. He’s the kind of tired that sleep won’t fix. The kind of tired that seventy years in limbo couldn’t fix. The man out of time, the super soldier, the good man. And he’s trying. He’s trying so hard, trying to feel like he has a place in this world that chewed him up nearly a century ago and spit him back out into a future he doesn’t understand.

And then there’s you. Bright-eyed and gorgeous and somehow knowing just the right things to say. He talks to you, and he feels…light. Like maybe things won’t be so bad. He’s getting ahead of himself, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to care.

So he sits on that bench beside you, one hand cupping your cheek, keeping your face tilted towards his, and kisses you until the coffee goes cold.

+

The weeks that follow are the same routine for Steve, only you have now implanted yourself into his daily life. And he’s grateful for it.

He still goes to the cafe everyday, you always waiting with a fresh cup at his table. You even put a little reserved sign on it, so no one else will snag it from him. Most nights, he has dinner with you, exploring the different restaurants New York City has to offer. Your favourite places, mostly, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

You’re off work from the cafe on the Fridays and Saturdays, and those days are for adventures, you decide. The Met, the Museum of Natural History, the Guggenheim, everywhere. You have to physically drag him into a Yankees game, but Steve doesn’t really mind it that much - especially when the two of you get caught on the jumbo-tron and you plant one on him.

You help him find a boxing gym, and Steve’s quick to get a membership. He’ll spend a few hours everyday there, practicing his kicks and punches until you’re off the clock or his body is too tired to carry on. It takes his mind off of everything, off the sneaking feeling he’s been having lately that something is coming, but he can’t put his finger on what it is.

His phone starts to ring more often. You always call him when you’re grocery shopping, talking his ear off while browsing the produce. You show him how to text, and it takes some getting used to, but he gets the hang of it pretty quickly.

There’s a number he doesn’t recognize that keeps calling as well, but those calls he declines without a second thought.

Whatever it is, it can wait. It can all wait.

Things between the two of you…escalate. He’d be a fool to try and deny his attraction to you, and there’s more than a few nights spent at your apartment that you end up straddling his lap, your hands in his hair, the two of you breathing the same air. He’s quickly become addicted to the feeling of your body in his grip. Your hips fill his hands perfectly, and more than once he’s slipped a hand up the back of your shirt, feeling the notches of your spine. It’s heat and longing and seventy years creeping up on him in an instant.

He wants to. There’s no question about that. On more than one occasion, he’s…taken care of himself once he got home from your apartment, images of you flashing through his mind. He’s not shocked at how quickly he finds a release, but he also wishes you were there to share it with him.

But Steve Rogers is a gentleman, through and through.

Nearly a month into your romance - is that what he’s supposed to call it? - Steve finds himself alone one Friday night. A few of your girlfriends from college had dragged you out to a bar to celebrate somebody’s birthday. You’d extended an invitation, but he’d declined. He wasn’t there…not yet.

However, when his phone rings at three in the morning, and he sees your name flashing on the screen, he answers in an instant. “Y/N?”

“Can you come get me?” Steve can barely make out your voice over the loud music in the background. You’re practically shouting into the phone, and repeat your request. “Please?”

“Where are you?”

You rattle off a street name, telling him you’ll text him directions once you hang up. He’s out of bed the moment you hang up, changing quickly and heading out the door without a second thought. He stops in the 24-hour bodega around the corner from his building, and the clerk gives him quicker directions than the mess you’d texted to him as he was leaving.

Twenty minutes later, he’s jogging up to the front of a club, a large man standing by the door, neon lights flashing and painting pictures on the sidewalk. He spots you, leaning against the window, teetering on heels that look sharp enough to kill a man. You have your face in your hands, and you’re swaying slightly. As he steps up to you, the large man by the door lifts a hand. “Hey.”

Your head snaps up, and your face is streaked with makeup, black smudges beneath your eyes. “Steve.” You turn to the man. “It’s okay. I know him.”

The man gives Steve a look, but lowers his hand. You step towards him, teetering like a newborn deer, and Steve grabs your elbows, keeping you steady and leading you away from the building.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Your arms wrap through his, fingers tightening around his forearms.

“My friends are assholes,” you say, and your voice is so sad that he just wants to hug you.

Before he gets the chance to, you wrench yourself out of his grip, and empty your stomach into the trash can beside you. Steve flinches, but reaches for you, pulling your hair back and keeping it out of the puke. It takes a while - he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone throw up that much, not even when Bucky dragged him on the roller coaster at Coney Island - but when you’re done, you stumble back away from the garbage can, and Steve pulls a tissue from his pocket, offering it to you. You wipe your mouth, smearing your lipstick in the process, and before you can say - or do - anything else, he scoops you into his arms, heels and all, and starts walking back in the direction of his apartment.

He has to stop once a few blocks in, you scrambling down from his arms to toss your cookies once more into a trash can. After that, he picks you up again, and you settle against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

Someone is walking out of his building as you two approach, and blessedly holds the door open so Steve can carry you straight up. It takes a little bit of manoeuvring to get his keys out of his pocket while you’re nearly comatose in his arms, but he manages. He nudges the door shut with his foot, flicking the lock before carrying you into his bedroom.

You mumble something unintelligible as he sets you on the bed, rubbing a hand across your face as you do. Steve just chuckles to himself, and reaches for your feet, undoing the multiple buckles on each of your shoes and pulling them off your feet. He sets them on the ground at the foot of his bed, but then freezes. You’re sweaty, your dress stained with what he assumes is alcohol (thankfully no vomit), and while the dress is pretty, he can only imagine it’s not the most comfortable thing.

As he’s sitting there contemplating what he should do next, if it’s appropriate to change you out of your dress or not, you sit up, mumbling again and smudging the makeup under your eyes further. Steve just watches as you shimmy off the end of the bed, grab the hem of your dress in both hands and yank it up over your head.

He definitely doesn’t miss the black lace panties and matching bra, and needless to say has to pick his jaw up off the floor before he crosses the room, reaching into his closet for a t-shirt and tossing it onto the bed. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Hm?” you mumble in response, but see the t-shirt on the bed and reach for it. He heads for the door, but out of the corner of his eye, sees you hold the shirt to your nose, inhaling heavily and breathing out his name. He all but sprints for the kitchen, pours you a glass of water, then retreats.

He doesn’t expect to find you sitting in the middle of his bed, your bare legs crossed beneath you, and his compass in your hands.

Your eyes go wide when you see him in the doorway, looking back at him like a little kid that got caught with her hands in the cookie jar. But you make no move to put the compass away, and say, “She’s very pretty.”

Steve inhales. “She is.”

“Peggy Carter,” you say, and his brows lift. “Right?”

“Right.”

“She’s very pretty,” you say again, your voice hitching a little. You snap the compass closed, and put it back in it’s place on his night stand. Your eyes meet his after a moment, and there’s something in them that makes his chest go tight. “I really like you, Steve.”

He steps towards the bed, hands you the glass of water, and then sinks onto the edge of the mattress. You sip the water, and he toys with his hands, staring down at his knotted fingers. “I really like you, too.” You give him one of your signature beaming smiles, and down the rest of the water. You reach for his hands, fingers twining easily between his. “Wanna tell me what happened at the bar?”

You just lift a shoulder, but your eyes go glassy. “I told you. My friends are assholes. They’re not even good friends, not really.” You shake your head. “I should have just spent the night with you, like we usually do. You’re a much better friend than they are.”

“Friend?” Steve asks. Somehow, the words feel like a punch to his stomach. “Is that what I am?”

Your brows shoot up, and you cover your mouth with your hands. “No! I didn’t…shit. I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant…” You groan, push your palms against your eyes and lean back on the bed. “I just meant I have a better time with you than anyone else. That’s all.” After a moment, you move your hands from your face and your eyes lock with his. “You’re not just my friend, Steve. I don’t know what we are, but you’re not just my friend.”

“I don’t know either,” he agrees, feeling the tightness in his gut ease, “but I know I like you. And…how I feel about you, I can’t just be your friend.”

You stare at him for a long moment, a smile tugging at your lips. “You know, if I wasn’t still kind of drunk, and hadn’t thrown up in front of you less than ten minutes ago, I’d probably have sex with you right now.”

“What?” He swears his heart skips a beat, and instantly his cheeks are on fire.

You, on the other hand, dissolve into giggles which quickly turn into a yawn you can barely stifle. Steve stands, trying his best to ignore the zap of heat that your words sent straight to his core, and goes to get you another glass of water. When he returns, you’re curled up on your side, your head on his pillow, eyes shut.

He sets the water on the nightstand beside the compass, goes to get a damp cloth from his bathroom, and then perches beside you, moving you gently and wiping the makeup from your face as best as he can. You don’t open your eyes, sound asleep in his grasp, eyelids fluttering as you dream.

Once he’s done, he goes to leave the room, content to sleep on the couch and give you some privacy, but before he can even get off the edge of the bed, your hand curls in the front of his shirt. “Stay.”

So he does, toeing off his shoes and settling on the bed beside you. You adjust yourself against him, one arm slinging across his waist, your head on his chest. The ends of your hair tickle his nose, but he doesn’t mind. He runs his fingers through it over and over, listening to the steady in and out of your breathing, and finds himself falling asleep with you.

+

You wake the next morning feeling surprisingly okay, despite the copious amounts of alcohol your so-called friends had shoved at you all night. You suspect your multiple puking sessions and all the water Steve had given you aided you some, and your head throbs slightly, but it’s not unbearable.

It’s early, the clock on the nightstand reading half past six, and your mind starts to race as you realize where exactly you are. And that you’re alone.

You’re sprawled in the bed, still in Steve’s t-shirt, pillow bunched beneath your head. Stretching your back and hearing a symphony of cracks and pops as your body moves, you reach for the empty space beside you, the whole bed still smelling of Steve. Your hand lifts to the pillow, and your fingers brush paper, spotting a note with your name scrawled across the front.

It’s a sketch of you, your hair tumbled across the pillow, arm slung around your face, peaceful and asleep, and below, Steve’s familiar chicken scratch.

Gone to the gym for a bit. Will return with bagels and coffee. There’s aspirin on the nightstand, and a towel for you in the bathroom. - Steve xo

You can’t hide the grin that breaks across your face, nor could you stop it. You smooth your hand over the note, fold it back up carefully, and set it on the nightstand, swiping the two aspirin and the glass of water waiting for you.

Sitting up, you toss back the aspirin and chase it with water, rubbing sleep from your eyes and peering around the room. Steve had brought you straight to the bedroom last night, and you hadn’t seen much of it before you’d passed out.

The bedroom is basic, his closet filled with neatly hung clothes and all the furniture matching. There’s a small stack of books on the dresser, and you recognize a few titles. The Hobbit. To Kill a Mockingbird. Fahrenheit 451. There’s a pile of papers beside the books, file folders all stamped with a strange logo you don’t recognize, CONFIDENTIAL stamped in big red letters across the top.

You leave those well enough alone, and head for the bathroom.

It’s hard, not having your shampoo and conditioner like you do at your own place, but the hot water is exactly what you need, and the pine-scented body wash is good enough. It smells like Steve, and you inhale deeply, letting the steam fill the bathroom.

The apartment is still empty when you’re done, and you pad around the rest of the space, curiosity getting the better of you. The living room is sparse, and the kitchen even more so, both rooms filled with the basics - a sofa and television, dishes and mugs and a coffee maker that looks like it’s seen better days -  but something in the corner of the living room catches your eye, tucked behind the small table and chairs.

It’s an army uniform. You recognize it; your grandfather had been a WWII vet, and you’d seen the old pictures of him and your grandmother on their wedding day, him in his dress uniform and her in a white dress.

There’s a number of badges on the lapel, most of which you don’t know the meaning of, but you recognize the Purple Heart, awarded to soldiers wounded or killed while serving in the military.

Your fingers are hovering over the badges, and a voice from behind you makes you flinch. “It’s on loan from the Smithsonian, apparently,” Steve says, and you whirl to find him standing behind you, a brown paper bag in one hand and two coffees balanced atop one another in his other. You take them from him quickly, setting them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He drops the bag beside them, shrugging out of his jacket, and you watch him carefully. There’s something about the expression on his face, something in his tone that has you on edge. Then he takes a step towards you, reaching for your wrist. “I gotta tell you something.”

Your brow furrows, and you pull him towards the sofa, sinking down onto it and settling close to him. He holds your hand between both of his, and your free hand goes to his shoulder, then his face, pushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Steve, it’s okay,” you murmur, and there’s a slight waver in your voice, but you hope he doesn’t notice. “You can tell me anything.”

“I have to leave,” he tells you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. “I have to go, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for. I don’t want to leave you, but…” He won’t meet your eyes, his gaze hard and far away. “But I have to do this.”

Slowly, you nod. “Does this have anything to do with those files in your bedroom?”

His brows raise, and he finally looks at you. “You didn’t…?”

“Read them? No. I know better than to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods, and his gaze goes far off again. You’re both quiet for a long while, and right when you feel that swell of anxiety starting to crest, he opens his mouth. “I meant what I said last night, Y/N. I like you. A lot. And I don’t know what…this is, between us, and I know I don’t want it to stop. But I won’t ask you to wait for me.”

“You don’t have to ask,” you tell him, shaking your head slightly, “and you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

His eyes go wide. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant-”

You crack a smile, and reach for his chin, turning his head and cutting him off with a soft kiss. “Go save the world, Cap,” you whisper, “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

+

He takes you back to your apartment in the late afternoon, after you’ve eaten your bagels and spent some time kissing on his couch. Steve feels bad, having no other clothes to offer you except a grey sweatshirt, and almost laughs when you pull your dress back on and the sweater overtop. It’s comically large, the hem touching the tops of your thighs, but to put it simply, you look adorable. More so than usual.

He wasn’t sure what you’d say at the news of his departure, but he hadn’t been anticipating the kind words and gentle touches. He’s grateful for them. Grateful for you. For all of you. You’ve made things feel…normal in a way he hasn’t experienced since coming out of the ice. Things feel clearer, more concise, like a fog has been lifted. He doesn’t know what’s coming next, but he’s ready for it. He has you.

He’s falling for you, he thinks suddenly, you falling into step beside him in the sidewalk, one hand threaded through his. He’s falling for you hard.

If anything, it only motivates him further. Work with S.H.I.E.L.D., get the Tesseract back, do his duty.

And then come back to you.

You ask him if he wants to come up with you, but he declines. Fury had called him shortly after he’d walked out of the gym, confirming that he was actually onboard or not. When Steve had said yes, Fury had informed him there would be a group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents at his apartment to pick him up later in the evening.

“I should…pack, I guess,” he says, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I wish I could tell you more, but I-”

You press a finger to his lips, standing a step above him outside your apartment. “Don’t. Just tell me what I need to know, and promise me something.” You don’t move your finger from his mouth, so he nods. “Keep yourself safe.”

There’s a glimmer of tears in your eyes, and it makes Steve’s chest ache. “I will,” he says against your fingers, and you throw your arms around his neck a second later, pulling him to you. “I promise.”

“And don’t get yourself killed,” you mumble in his ear, your voice a little thick, “cuz that would really suck.”

He chuckles at your choice of words, but hugs you back tightly, pressing his face into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Your scent is a strange mix of his body wash, coffee, and something he has no name for, but it intoxicates him all the same. He waits for you to pull back slightly, then reaches for your face with one hand, his lips finding yours easily in a sweet kiss.

It’s a good few minutes before either of you break away, but Steve is the first. He needs to go home, needs to get ready, needs to disentangle himself from you before he changes his mind and stays with you instead.

+

The days that follow blow past you in a blur. You work double shifts, keep yourself busy at the cafe, mainly to keep yourself from worrying about Steve.

Your phone is too quiet, and you understand it, you do, but you wish you knew that he was okay.

You find yourself mulling over what happened between you and Steve, both of you admitting that you felt…something for the other, but still not entirely sure what it was, what it meant.

It’s insane, in the grand scheme of things. Captain America carried you home drunk from a club, made sure you were okay, made sure you drank enough water and left aspirin by the bed for you. Captain America kissed you goodbye.

The nights are spent on the couch, wrapped in the sweatshirt Steve had given you, your bed suddenly feeling too empty. True, you’d only spent one night together. You hadn’t slept in the same bed until that night, and yes, you’d woken up a little heavy-headed, but the truth of it was it was the best sleep you’d had in a long time. Steve makes you feel…safe. Content.

Happy.

The cafe is busy, even without your favourite regular taking up the middle table, and the steady stream of patrons keeps you distracted enough.

You’re standing inside the cafe when the bright beam of blue erupts from the top of Stark Tower, and you stumble through the doors as every head in the vicinity turns in it’s direction. The portal opens in the sky a moment later, and when the monsters start pouring through, people start to scream.

There’s a strange whoosh overhead, and then the explosions begin. Stone and brick are thrown through the air, the patio furniture outside the cafe turning into twisted heaps of metal in an instant. People start running, yelling, screaming as they push past you. Debris scrapes at your bare arms and legs, and you rush back towards the cafe, darting inside as one of your co-workers holds the door opened for the panicked public running inside.

“What are those things?” someone asks, and you shake your head in disbelief. This can’t be happening…

…can it?

+

The moment they land in the city, Steve’s mind drifts to you. He’s worried, and can only pray you’re somewhere safe, that you finished work and went home before the hole in the sky appeared.

You’ve been in the back of his mind the entire time, from the moment he set foot on the Quinjet. Agent Coulson was kind, and the conversation kept him focused on the task at hand. The debriefings and meetings were tolerable, even when Stark gave him a hard time, but Steve knew what needed to be done, so he did it.

He fights his way through the streets, through the ugly alien creatures and piles of debris. Anytime he catches a glimpse of someone running past, someone with your hair colour or about your height, his head turns and he has to see if it’s you or not. It gets him hit a few times, and he has to focus harder, a little voice repeating in the back of his mind that you’re fine, you’re alive, you’re safe.

He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do if you’re not.

When Clint tells him the Chitauri have cornered civilians in the bank on Madison, he rushes in that direction, his heart sinking into his boots when he sees that the cafe has been reduced to a pile of rubble outside Grand Central.

Steve sprints inside, brandishing the shield, and when he tosses one of the Chitauri over the railing of the upper floor, he sees you in the crowd below. Relief washes through him, despite it all. You’re alive. A little dirty, your uniform streaked with dirt and your face smudged with dust. He can see a few marks on your cheeks and arms, but you’re alive.

The bomb the Chitauri had detonated goes off, and he’s blown backward, the shield taking most of the impact, and he sees the look on your face go from happy to terrified in a split second.

He’s thrown through the window, and collapses hard onto an already-crushed policy cruiser, groaning as the metal creaks beneath him. Cops swarm forwards, trying to get to the civilians inside, and Steve struggles to his feet, turning to head back inside. He has to get to you. He needs to get you somewhere safe.

“Steve!” he hears, and his head turns in the direction of your voice, seeing you sprinting from the bank, pushing past people as you run for him.

He catches you with a quiet oomph when you launch yourself at him, your arms going around his neck. He’s got the shield in one hand, you in the other.

“Are you okay?” you cry, breathless, pulling back only to take his face in your hands, your thumbs swiping across his dirty cheeks, eyes darting across him, trying to find any injuries. “What’s going on? Why is this happening?”

He wishes he had an easy answer for you, and God only knows he can’t explain the whole thing to you right there on the street. “It doesn’t matter right now,” he tells you, his arm still holding you against him. “I want you to go to my apartment, okay? It’s far enough away that you should be safe there. You can get in through the fire escape. If the fighting gets closer, you leave, but if it doesn’t, you stay and wait for me to come get you. Understood?”

There are tears in your eyes, fears he knows he can’t ease right now, and you nod. “Understood.”

He kisses you hard, holding you as close as he possibly can before he sets you back on your feet. You almost don’t let go of him, and he has to give you a little nudge. You lean up on your toes and kiss him again before turning on your heel and sprinting down the road, dodging debris and heading in the direction of his apartment building.

There’s a wolf-whistle in his earpiece, and Stark’s smug tone. “She’s very pretty, Cap. Shoulda known you had something sweet waiting for you in the city.”

Steve rolls his eyes, readjusts the shield in his grip, and heads back into the fray. “Let’s finish this.”

+

The noise stops about an hour after you reach Steve’s apartment.

You’d gotten in through the fire escape, just like he’d said, squeezing your way in through an unlocked window. You’d landed on the floor in a heap, and just stayed in place, your eyes glued to the window, watching carefully in case anything came close.

You’re still shaking, your limbs caked in dirt and dust and your left ankle aching something fierce. You suspect it’ll be a while before the shaking stops, and your nerves don’t cease, your gut clenched hard, until, nearly four hours after that, there’s a careful knock at the door.

You rush for it, flicking the locks and yanking the door open to see a very tired-looking Steve Rogers on the other side. He’s still in his uniform, the shield held in one hand, a white plastic takeout bag in the other. His face is as dirty as you feel, and his hair is sweat-soaked, hanging over his forehead in a way that’s frustratingly endearing. You could have died - he could have died - and your first thought it how cute he looks.

“Left my keys in my other pants,” he jokes, stepping over the threshold. He hands you the bag. “Brought you some food.”

It’s the adrenaline, you think, and you set the bag down carefully, then take the shield from Steve’s hand and lean it against the wall beside the door. The door is shut, the locks slid back into place, and then you take his hand, pulling him down the hallway and into the bathroom without a word.

He’s just watching you, his brow slightly furrowed as he watches you move towards the tub, cranking the water on and moving the shower curtain into place.

Then you start undoing the buttons of your shirt, and you can see the wheels turning in his head, his mouth opening slightly as he finally catches on.

“Oh. Oh.”

Your shirt hits the ground, skirt, socks, and shoes joining the pile a moment later. Steve flushes red when you step towards him, clad only in your underwear, and reach for his belt. It takes some time and a bit of manoeuvring to figure out all the clasps and buttons keeping the uniform in place, but you manage, and soon enough, he’s just as naked as you are, only wearing a pair of tight black boxers that leave little to the imagination.

You’d turned the water hot, and there’s steam filling the bathroom. You’re still silent as you give him a quick once over, concern filling you when you see the series of bruises and marks that travel from his left hip and up around his rib cage. It looks painful, but as you look at it, you can almost see the bruises starting to fade, the super soldier healing from the inside out.

Steve catches the worry in your features, and his hand lifts to your cheek. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, and his thumb swipes across your skin. “It’s over. You’re safe.”

Your heart is rioting in your chest, and you just nod. Your brain is still processing everything that’s happened, and the only thing that seems to make sense is the man standing in front of you.

Still without a word, you step out of his reach, moving the shower curtain and stepping inside, still in your underwear. Steve follows, reaching for your waist as he crowds up behind you. You both hiss at the temperature, Steve reaching around to adjust it slightly before you both step under the spray. You reach for a washcloth and his body wash, lathering the cloth and then reaching up, dragging it slowly across his chest, cleaning the dirt and blood from his skin.

He just watches as you do, and you feel both his hands settling on your hips, fingers twisting in the wet fabric covering you. Once you’ve cleaned him as thoroughly as you can, he takes the cloth from you, and it’s your turn. Then he moves onto your hair, and you return the favour.

You both move slow and languid, the hot water making both of you feel infinitely better, easing sore muscles and tense bodies. Steve barely takes his hands off of you, and the water is still hot when he crowds you against the tile, one hand slipping up your back, and puts his mouth on yours.

It’s a desperate kiss, an oh god we almost died kiss, and you can’t get enough, your hands plunging into his wet hair, holding him as close as you can. It’s not long before he’s hiking your leg around his hip, his body rolling against yours, pulling a noise from your throat that makes you both blush.

He pulls at your underwear, and the wet fabric slides down your hips a little awkwardly, pooling at your feet. His head dips, mouth skimming along the swell of your breast, and you make that noise again, unable to hold it back. Your bra is slipping from your shoulders, and you groan when you feel Steve’s fingers along the inside of your thigh.

“Do you want this?” he asks suddenly, lifting his head and staring you dead in the eye. “Do you want me?”

You nod, enthusiastic. “I do.”

“Are you sure?” His voice is low and husky, and it sends a zip of electricity through you.

You kiss him hard, your hips canting towards his hand, gasping when his fingers brush against your core. “I’m sure.”

He captures your lips again, his kiss searing it’s way into your brain, and then reaches around you to shut the water off.

+

Steve carries you to his bedroom, both of you dripping water the whole way, but he doesn’t care.

When he lays you out on his bed, almost completely nude except for the bra that’s leaving little to his imagination at this point, he knows he’s the luckiest man in the world.

He’s not a virgin - God knows Bucky had called in a favour or two and made sure he wasn’t back in the forties - and the attention he’d received after he’d debuted as Captain America had been enthusiastic. There’d been a few dames back then, a sweet redhead who’d caught his attention and held it for a while.

And then, of course, there was Peggy. Not that they’d…fondue-d, but the notion still stands.

You, however, are uncharted territory. An island he wants to explore every inch of. He wants to know how your body reacts, where he should touch, kiss, bite. Wants to feel every part of you, memorize it until he’s an expert on you.

He hovers over you on the bed, plants an elbow beside your head and finds your lips again. Your hands are soft along his jaw, your skin still damp under his touch, and his free hand skirts along your body, travelling over your ribs and down over your hip. The pads of his fingers skim the silky-soft skin at the inside of your thigh, and when he brushes over your core, finds you wet and ready, every instinct he has seems to heighten.

Your back bows off the bed when he pushes one finger inside, crooking it just so as you moan into his mouth. One becomes two, and one of your hands falls from his face and reaches for his waist, pushing the wet boxers over his hip, fingers dipping past the elastic and closing around him.

It’s been a long time since he’s been touched by a woman, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t come on the spot when your hand strokes him, your thumb swiping over his tip. You swallow each other’s moans, your other hand going to his waist to push his boxers down further. He thrusts his fingers once, twice, three times more before you’re gasping his name, your lips parted in a perfect o.

“Steve, please,” you whisper out.

He detaches himself from you long enough to kick his boxers off the rest of the way, and while he’s gone, you rid yourself of your bra, tossing it to the side and scrambling a little further up the bed. He follows, stretches out beside you, and you reach for his hip, pulling him back on top of you easily. Your hands skim up and down his ribs, your nails catching on his skin every so often, and he drops his face into  the crook of your neck, lips closing around his pulse.

“I don’t have a condom,” he says suddenly, pulling back, and you let out a quiet giggle, your hands tightening at his sides.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I’m on the pill.”

He nods once. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Steve, I’m sure,” you whisper, pulling him back down to you and kissing him hard.

Your legs widen around his hips, your body rolling against his as he ruts against you. He feels flushed and out of breath and everything is almost too much, but it feels so good he can’t stop. Your mouth moves along his jaw, teeth nipping at his skin, and he thrusts into you, sliding home, and it’s like the world stops for a moment. There’s only you, your breath against his ear and your skin against his. Your nails digging in ever so slightly, keeping him grounded to the earth, and your low gasp when he starts to move, pulls out almost all the way and then slides in again. “Oh god.”

It’s all the encouragement he needs, and he reaches up with one hand, using the headboard as leverage. His other hand plants itself beside your head, and he groans out, eyes almost rolling back when you clench around him.

With each slam of his hips, there’s a coil in his stomach growing tighter and tighter, and he feels your hands slide down his back, one grabbing a handful of his ass, the other pressing against the dip at the base of spine. He’s losing his mind, losing himself in you. “You feel so good,” he manages to say, unable to hold it back.

You moan, your head tipping back against the pillow, and then a second later, you’re reaching for his shoulders, tipping him sideways and rolling until you’re on top of him. He’s still inside you, and the new angle makes his jaw drop, his vision going nearly white when you plant your hands on his chest and grind your hips against his.

He thrusts up into you, and it catches you off guard. You collapse against his chest, your hair a curtain around the two of you and his arms go around your waist, holding you tight against him. His name stutters from your mouth, your eyes screwing shut, your hands flexing wide on the mattress on either side of him. “Oh god,” you say again, your voice hitching. “Steve, please.”

He can’t stop, won’t stop moving, and plants his feet, giving himself more leverage as you move against him. You gasp again, a moan following quickly after, and he knows you’re there because he can feel it. Your whole body goes tight in his grip, your insides clenching around his cock, and his own pleasure only grows. You go limp a second later, and he still can’t stop, the coil going completely taut before his entire body floods with warmth, hands tightening on you before his grip goes slack. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and you both heave out a breath.

It’s a long moment before either of you says anything, and you’re the first to speak, propping your head up on your hand and looking down at him. “We should have done that a long time ago.”

Steve chuckles, one hand trailing it’s way up and down your spine. Your skin is still damp, from the shower and with sweat, and his fingers catch slightly. “Guess an alien invasion is all it took,” he replies, laughing.

You purse your lips at him, shaking your head. “Remember what I said before, about you only telling me what I need to know?”

He nods. “I remember.”

“I think I need more than that.” He opens his mouth to say more, but you put a finger to his lips. “Not now. Now, I just want to lie here, and be happy you’re alive.”

+

A few days later, Steve has business in Central Park. You’ve been at his apartment since the invasion, barely getting out of bed - except for food and water - trapped in a perfect bubble of love-making and heavy petting. You don’t want to leave the bubble, but Steve also informs you that he has something planned once his business is finished with, and you find yourself stopping at your own apartment to pack an overnight bag before getting on the back of his motorcycle and heading for Central Park.

He’d filled you in, for the most part. The story had taken a while to process, and parts of it still made no sense to you, but Steve had done his best. You had some common ground, something that made no sense to either of you.

You hang back as Steve approaches the rest of the group that had saved the city - the Avengers. Their faces had been all over the news since the day of the Battle, and you already know who Tony Stark is.

Some words are exchanged, Stark saying something to Steve before gesturing to you. Steve turns to look at you, gives you a broad grin, and you lift your hand to wave. Tony waves back.

There’s a bright blue cube - Steve had called it the Tesseract - given to the man you know to be Thor. Then there’s a flash of rainbow-hued light, and Thor and Loki - who you now know orchestrated the attack on the city - disappear.

Steve says his goodbyes, then jogs back to where you are, still sitting on his motorcycle. He doesn’t say anything at first, but takes your face in his hands and kisses you softly. “You ready?” he asks when he pulls away, a giant grin on his face and a slight flush to his cheeks. You nod in response, and he swings his leg over the bike, kicking the stand up. You scoot closer on the seat, putting your arms around his middle.

The engine revs and you bury your face in the back of his leather jacket. The bike zooms forward, and you disappear down the road, holding on as tight as you can.

—————

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[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Episode nine - Returning

Jack Dawkins x fem reader.

Post series.

A/n : this is a short part.

It took six days for your father to sign the pardon for Jack and further three days for him to be released. On your sister's command Sneed made sure Jack's job in the royal hospital was waiting for him. The moment he stepped into your room a smile drew long across your face.

"Why are you still here?" He asks you, sitting on the bed beside you.

"I will not return to that house." You reply, "Sneed is securing me my own residence, in town."

"I didn't want to come between you and your family." He says holding your hand.

"Jack, I haven't seen you in nine days, please do not make this about my family." You grin. Jack laughs, bringing himself down to kiss you.

"I've missed you." He sighs.

There is a knock on the door and Hetty pokes her head inside.

"Doctor Dawkins. I'm glad you're back. The governor is here to see you."

Jack closes his eyes in annoyance. He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles.

"I'll be back soon, my love." He whispers. You watch him leave you.

The Governor stands in the Prof's office talking with the prof. Jack knocks on the door. Alistair beckons him in and excuses himself.

"I wanted to meet you as soon as possible. I apologise for the formalities taking so long. Now we are here I have some things to go through with you." He gestures to the other chair and the two men sit.

"I should thank you, sir, for the pardon." Jack says. Edmund waves his hand dismissing the comment.

"Now lad, you should know my youngest daughter Fanny is still in Port Victory. As is your childhood friend Oliver Twist. We have the young man in custody. It would appear it was he who stole the gold. He told me some very unsavoury things about yourself."

"Governor, I was a child-"

"Please, it was the reason it took so long. I have written to the queen and explained my reasons for giving you a full and complete pardon of all your crimes. Your dedication to the royal navy and this colony has been exemplary"

Jack feels a weight lift from his shoulders at the news.

"secondly, my daughter is utterly taken by you. What are your feelings for her?"

"Sir, I have never felt for anyone the way I feel for y/n. She is the light in my life." Jack answers.

"Good, do you intend to ask for her?" The question takes shim back

"I would be honoured to simply be in her life, but if you think she would say yes to me?" Jack's eyes widen with hope.

"Oh, the fuss she put up for you I'd say she would, a thousand times." The governor chuckles.

"I took the pleasure of finding this out for you." He places a small box on the desk, "It belonged to my mother and y/n has long admired it. Should the moment arrive, perhaps this might seal the deal."

Jack picked up the box and looked inside. It was a silver band with a large emerald set in the top. Jack thought about how this was the exact thing he would look out for to steal as a child.

"Thank you." He breaths out sliding the box into his waistcoat pocket.

"Lastly, I am changing the contact of your position here. You will no longer be an unpaid doctor. There will be a wage paid to you directly and a house. Not a grand one but for the time being it will suffice."

"I don't want charity?" Jack began.

"well I should expect so, luckily this is not coming from me. It was Doctor Sneed who convinced us of this change. He implored that a .an as great as you deserved a real salary. The information is all in this envelope. I do hope you live up to our expectations Doctor." Edmund stood up and held his hand out towards Jack. Not completely sure what had just happened jack made his way back to your room. Sneed was sat beside you l, his fingers checking the pulse in your wrist.

"How is she doing, Doctor?" He asked, closing the door behind him. Sneed glanced up at him.

"It's remarkable, in fact, I think it is time you went home." He answered.

"You found me somewhere?" You ask gleefully.

"Yes. I'll give you both a few minutes but you must get some more rest before I send you anywhere." He pats your leg and moves across to Jack, "It really will be an honour to share the head surgeon role with you." He announces. Jack finally understands what happened and shakes his colleagues hand.

"Thank you, likewise."

With a curt nod Sneed left the room, once more you were finally alone with Jack once more. He sat beside you again.

"It will be nice to have my own home, I hope you will stay with me?" You ask. Jack smooths your hair.

"I will sleep beside you forever, but perhaps we should refrain just for a little while, until you're healed." He laughs and kisses you.

"Listen." You pull the stethoscope from your bedside table and hand it to Jack. He gently presses it to your chest and listens. Your heart beat is even and gentle. A perfect display of how the heart works. He didn't hide the emotions that spilled from his eyes.

"I thought you were going to die." He said dropping his head to your chest, his ear replacing the stethoscope. You stroke back his blonde curls.

"You had the chance to run. Fagin gave you that chance." You say.

"I couldn't go anywhere else. I had to see you were alive. Even sat in prison at least I was close to you." He replied, adjusting himself so he was lying beside you. You settle against him and the two of you drift off to sleep.

*_*_*_*

Jack walked out of the hospital with Rainsford by his side.

"we've got a house ready for both of you but I won't release her until it is somewhat official. You may be from the scum of London but we do have decorum here." Sneed laughed.

"Yes, alright. I'll ask her soon." Jack agrees. Laughing he leaves the other doctor where he stood and made his way to the cat and bagpipes. Stepping through the door he was greeted with a round of applause. Rotty walked up to him with a tankard. Everyone was happy he was out of prison and partly responsible for Gaines' demise. Jack spent the evening drinking with Fagin and his other friends. Though he ensured he did not get too drunk. He didn't want to disappoint you by stinking of beer. Fagin sat with him at their usual table.

Nearing midnight Jack gathered his coat and hat and made his way outside. It was a quiet night with a full moon above them. Jack breathed in the fresh air filling his lungs. A white hot pain stopped his breath arms wrapped around him and dragged him away.

*_*_*_*

Fagin ran into the hospital, frantically looking for any help he could. He found Flash and Aputi in your room.

"oh I'm sorry Milady, I need the boys for a moment." He panted at the door.

"You speak to them here." You say with a smile.

Fagin fiddles with his hat before deciding to go on.

"It's Jack, he's been, well I found his hat outside the pup and there was...there was a lot of blood and this." He admitted, handing the small box across to you. Opening the box your heart breaks seeing the ring.

"Someone took him." Fagin finished.

Episode ten

@fandomfan-102 @darasloves @afalls14universe

[mcufan72]

Cold winter days, a lonely woman on a bench, a stranger in the park...

An Encounter in Winter ❄️

Loki and female reader

Chapter 6

Chapter 5

18+/adult themes/talking/flirting/slow burn/fluff/angst/smut (eventually)

Warnings: filthy thoughts and slightly smutty daydreams, and a kiss but it doesn't always go the way you expect.

In the dining room, the others welcomed you warm-heartedly like yesterday and you were grateful to be allowed to be here. It felt like being a member of a family again, a feeling you really have missed, but you better shouldn't get used to it. You were still a guest. Nonetheless, you decided to enjoy this feeling if only just for this evening.

"Lady y/n, what a pleasure to have you here again. I like to see that you still date my brother. So is he officially courting you now?"

"I don't…know. I don't think so, we're just friends," you answered insecurely and Loki looked at you embarrassed.

"My brother often talks about you."

Thor grinned smugly, wiggled his eyebrows and looked provocatively at Loki. Everyone sitting at the dining table was grinning now. It was so obvious what was going on between you and Loki but two people in this room here were definitely still in denial and in 'refusing to believe'.

And you looked from Thor to Loki and gazed at him astonished but with a thankful smile on your lips.

"Really? Do you?" you asked Loki.

What did these constant innuendos mean?

Loki cleared his throat and if looks could kill, Thor would be dead on the spot.

"Beloved brother, can you please stop getting on Lady y/n's nerves! She's our guest and you don't have to interrogate her. Stop embarrassing her!" he growled, his voice dark and close to being menacing.

You had never heard him talking like this before. Imperious, firm and determined in his voice, prepared for an attack, tensing up his body. Like a king in a leading manner, a god. But with you he was always gentle and kind, his voice always velvety and soothing.

Now you had an idea of how he could be. And you were impressed and…aroused. And…was he protecting you? You felt honoured. Loki, a literal god, was protecting you, officially protecting you.

"We enjoy having you here again tonight. And please, call me Bruce!" He tried to ease up the situation again.

"Thanks, Bruce and I love to be here again. You all have been so nice to me yesterday. It has been of great help that I was allowed to stay the night here."

"There's no need to thank us, we always help friends in need," Steve said while munching his salad.

"Our home is your home, y/n! You're always welcomed here!" Tony added.

"You're really too kind to me!"

Friends? So they saw a friend in you? This came quickly and unexpectedly.

"Please y/n, remember me to ask you something before you leave tonight, okay?" Bruce said to you.

"Okay, I'll do it."

You looked at Loki quizzically but he only shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. He didn't know either what Bruce might want to ask you.

After the dinner, you all went over to the lounge area and sat down on the seats and sofas like yesterday and everyone talked about the upcoming New Year's Party.

You started to shiver because you got cold and you put on Loki's hoodie he had given to you earlier. It was too big for you but it was snuggly and warm and it felt like he would hug you…and it smelled like him…a hint of sandalwood, moss and black oud. It had a calming effect on you and put your soul at ease.

Loki sat across from you in his seat and swallowed hard. You looked so gorgeous and sexy in his hoodie. It was much too big for you but he loved to see you wearing it. He imagined you wearing nothing else than his hoodie in the morning so he could fuck you straight on the kitchen counter before he would make breakfast and fresh coffee for you. He wanted to devour you, make the sweetest love to you, and thrust into you deeply and slowly.

He squirmed in his seat and noticed his cock twitching in his leather trousers. He crossed his legs and put his large hands in his lap to hide the now visible bulge. What would he give to call you his. He would feed you with his love and he would treat you like the queen you are, he would lay down his heart, the world, the nine realms, every universe to your feet. He would die for you if necessary.

When Peter returned from the kitchen with some snacks he came over to you and passed you a mug with hot chocolate and whipped cream.

"You still like cocoa Miss, right?" He smiled friendly at you.

"Oh, yes, I still like cocoa. Thanks, Peter. You're all so lovely to me," you said, laughing thankfully at him.

They were all so nice to you and treated you like a family member and you were definitely not used to it anymore.

You looked at Loki again, he seemed daydreaming. You weren't sure because of the dimmed lights but…were his eyes darker than usual? Darkened with… lust?

You thought about how it would feel to get lost in his demanding embrace, your legs wrapped around his waist, grinding your hips against his, feeling him getting hard, his shamelessly beautiful and veiny hands sliding over your body and between your thighs, spreading them. Your skin began tingling and you felt how your arousal made you wet.

You wanted to be bathed in love and lust by him. You wanted to feel romance and passion again and you would give all of this to him, too. It seemed you were ready to open up your heart for a man again. To tell Loki about your ex was your final liberation from the unhappy relationship you had been in and this chapter of your life was definitely closed now.

"He gave you his favorite hoodie, huh?" Nat, who sat next to you, whispered to your ear.

"What?" You fell out of your filthy dreams.

"Yes! It's his favorite one. He really likes you, believe me, sweetie. As Tony said yesterday, Loki never brought his playmates of the night here…let alone give them his favorite sweater. They always stayed just in his apartment."

You two talked quietly to each other so that no one else could hear you.

"I'm not his 'playmate of the night'," you stated firmly.

"I know, sweetie and I also know that he's falling in love with you. It's so obvious, everyone here can see it. But I think it's up to you to conquer him. With you he's kinda…extremely reserved," and she winked with one eye at you.

"Never saw him like this. And he never keeps his eyes off of you…he protects what's his, I can tell you. You should've recognised it when Thor tried to…"

"I'm not…his!" you said firmly.

"Oh, sweetie you already are…you're wearing his hoodie… mark my words, sweetheart," she smirked and winked at you again.

You gazed at Loki and you saw him staring at you. Could it be? Did he really like you that much and could he imagine you as his lover? As much as you could imagine him to be your lover? He told you that he's not interested in a loving relationship and he also never asked you to share his bed with him. He never tried to kiss you. Was he just a gentleman and nice to you and just wanted to be your friend?

You hadn't the slightest idea where all this would lead. And yet you were still afraid of letting him enter your heart completely. You didn't want to make the same mistakes again. You were so afraid of deeply falling in love with him and being addicted to him; truth be told, it was the only thing you really wanted.

You wanted to be addicted to him, you would do everything for him, and you wanted to give him all the love he was craving for. He was caring and attentive. He treated you with respect and gave you all of his attention. He always wanted you to feel good and safe as if you were his only priority. So why were you still so afraid?

You hoped that you could give him the feeling of being safe with you, too. You wanted to be his safe haven. And, God yes, you wanted to fuck him, in the mornings, in the kitchen, you wanted to rip off his sweatpants of his hips so he could fuck you slowly and deeply, on the kitchen counter before breakfast. You were close to drooling and you quickly took a sip of your cocoa.

When the conversation came to the question of how many guests were supposed to come to the party, Loki sat up straight.

"I've invited another guest. My …I invited y/n to join us on New Year's Eve," he declared.

"Oh yes, fantastic," the others cheered and everyone was delighted to have you at the party.

For them, you were already a part of their family. For them, it was clear that you would be the woman at Loki's side sooner or later…

"Thank you again for the invitation, Loki and I'm so happy to join you all."

"What am I supposed to wear, Nat?" you whispered, tilting your head towards her. "Something very chic? Evening wardrobe?" you asked her quietly.

"Hmmh, yes Tony likes glamorous parties and clothes…and you wear something that makes Mr. God-in-love Laufeyson speechless," and she winked smirking at you.

"Nat !...you're impossible…he's not in love with me!" you answered a little outraged.

"Sure? But you are in love with him, sweetie! Don't waste time, go get 'em!"

"Nat! I'm not!" you scolded her and gasped.

It had become late and the time had come for you to go home. Before you said your goodbyes, Bruce had asked you to talk privately.

Loki escorted you to the main entrance of Stark Tower and waited in the foyer together with you for the cab he had ordered for you. Loki insisted that you return to your home by car. He needed to be sure that you were safe.

"May I ask what Bruce talked with you about?"

"Of course, but you won't believe it. "

"What was it about? "

"He offered me to work with him. For him, for the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. Here, in his laboratory as his assistant and the possibility to continue my studies."

"And? Will you accept it? It's a great offer! "

"It's the best offer and greatest opportunity I could've ever dreamt of. I'll have to think about that tonight, this offer came unexpectedly."

"Yeah, I get that. It's life-changing."

"Yeah, as many things have happened to me in the last weeks."

"Take time for your decision, snowflake. But I'd like to have you here. And you really don't want to stay here tonight? It's late."

You smiled at him slightly amused. You knew Loki would ask you again. It wasn't that you didn't want to stay here, you loved to be together with him, you loved to be here. You just weren't willing to give in to the feelings you had for him, not yet. And Nat was right, you had a crush on him. And if you were honest with yourself you had made your choice already concerning Bruce's offer.

You took off his hoodie to give it back to him, put on your coat and wrapped your scarf around your neck. You closed the distance between you two, pressed the hoodie gently against his chest and tucked a loose strand of his long curls behind his ear.

"I can't, Loki. Thank you for your really snuggly sweater."

He nodded knowingly but he was so sad.

"Please, please keep my hoodie. You will get cold again later, my little snowflake." he whispered.

Tears welled up in your eyes, the endearment tugged at something deep inside of you. You shook your head in no.

"I need a reason to come back, Loki."

"I don't understand that, snowflake," he murmured and wrapped his hoodie around your neck over your scarf and knotted the sweatshirt's sleeves in the front.

"What do you mean by that?" he wanted to know.

"I need your hoodie as a reason to come back here so you can give it to me again and again and again…I would like to have something here that belongs to you and that is always waiting here for me," you whispered soundlessly, scooting closer to his face, your lips almost brushing his.

"I am always waiting here for you, my Lady and I insist you keep my hoodie so there's always a part of me surrounding you," he whispered back and placed his hands gently on your waist.

You clasped his upper arms tenderly and felt his biceps move under your grip. You two were so close to each other that you could feel each other's breath fanning over your faces. But you two didn't dare get any closer.

Outside the door your cab arrived and beeped.

"I must go now." You looked deeply into his eyes.

"I will accompany you to the cab."

"No, please don't, Loki. Please, take it easy on us. See you tomorrow, Sir. Same time, same place," you smiled lovingly at him.

"Same time, same place, my Lady.

Please send me a message when you've arrived home safely."

"I will, Loki, I promise."

Before you let go of him, you pressed a long tender kiss to his cheek, inhaled the scent of his skin, turned around quickly and left the building, one of your hands firmly clutching the sleeves of his hoodie you still kept wrapped around your scarf.

You didn't see the tears that welled up in his eyes. Never before it was so difficult for him to let you go. He wanted to drown in your tenderness. Without you he began to feel lost. After your cab had left, he returned to the compound. Your sweet kiss still lingered on his cheek.

❄️❄️❄️

The last few days until New Year's Eve flew by. Of course, you and Loki met each other daily and you also had your beloved coffee-cocoa dates at the café. And instead of going home after that, you spent the evenings together with Loki in Stark Tower. Mostly in the fireplace lounge, sitting in the armchairs, talking and sometimes holding hands. You two have been closer than ever before but both of you were afraid to lose control and take your relationship to the next level.

Today it was New Year's Eve and you were so unbelievably nervous. It was the first time after the horrible events in your life that you would be at a party and that you wouldn't be alone. And the best thing was you would spend this last night of the year together with Loki and you would also begin the New Year with him…and maybe, just maybe a new life together … with him. And again you realized how fast life could change. It could change within weeks, days.

You dressed up for the party, hoping that Loki would like the outfit you had chosen for tonight. You called a cab to bring you to Stark Tower. Loki told you to give him a call when you have arrived so he could come downstairs to the lobby to escort you to the party on the top floor in the exclusive big and luxurious winter garden lounge of the tower. After you had arrived and entered the foyer you sent him a message and in less than a minute he was there. Loki, the handsome, adorable, loveable, polite gentleman you had the privilege to meet every day and spent time with. Mostly you forgot that he was also a Prince and a God.

He strode towards you, self-confident, his gait perfect, with a royal attitude and with a stunning but adorable arrogance so that you needed all of your strength to not fall to your knees and praise him as your King and God. If he would command you to bend over so he could fuck you here and right away, you would obey immediately. This was still your weakness.

You understood even better now why he never had any problems finding a companion for his lonesome nights. But you knew him better. You knew he would never do it with you …unfortunately? You weren't sure but you've had the opportunity to look behind his fassade, and you had found out that he just wanted to be loved and appreciated and you wanted nothing more than to be the one for him if only he would let you.

He looked stunning tonight in his all-black outfit: a frock coat with a snake motif woven into the fabric, combined with perfect-fitting leather pants, an also black tight-fitting shirt, a waistcoat with the same pattern as the frock coat and a silken tie, classic black patent shoes and his hair was all curly and soft tonight and cascaded down in waves over his broad shoulders. He literally took your breath away. Tonight he definitely looked like a prince. Your Prince.

When he saw you standing there and waiting for him he took a few deep breaths to calm down a bit. He had to hold it together to not run to you, grab you, pull you into his arms and kiss the heck out of you until you were breathless.

You looked gorgeous tonight. Your dress was stunning: it was made of shiny fabric and its appearance changed between turquoise-blue and may-green, depending on the lighting. A fitted, deep-cut top with thin straps, crossed in the back, hugged your breasts perfectly and it emphasized your beautiful cleavage. The floor-length flared skirt with hundreds of rhinestones on it looked great on you and let you sparkle like a diamond. You looked like a princess tonight. His princess…his sparkling snowflake. Your smile enchanted him like always and he was so proud to have you by his side tonight. He wished he could have you by his side forever if only you would let him.

When he had reached you, he took your hand in his and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

"Good evening, my Lady. You look ravishing and it's an honor to be at your side tonight," he welcomed you with his deep husky voice which engulfed you like velvet.

You smiled brightly at him, slightly coy.

"Good evening, Sir. What a pleasure to meet you and spend this special night of the year with you. I'm sure you're the most handsome man tonight," you complimented him.

Loki looked down coyly and smiled, still holding your hand in his, his cheeks turned slightly red. His gaze fell on your coat, which was laying on a small travel bag next to your feet. He pointed his finger at it and he looked quizzically at you.

"Is your guest room still available? I owe you breakfast," you asked him teasingly and smiled at him.

"Of course, darling. You can stay here as long as you want," and a bright smile appeared on his face.

You would stay tonight. What a wonderful gift. The new year couldn't start better.

"5-4-3-2-1- Happy New Year!" you all cheered and raised your glasses.

While everyone fell into each other's arms and peppered kisses to each other's cheeks, Loki pulled you carefully with him to the window fronts of the luxury winter garden. He looked deep into your eyes and held you close to him by your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your glass of champagne still in your hand, not knowing what would happen next.

"Godt nytt år, Loki," you said to him.

"Godt nytt år, snøfnugg," he answered you.

Slowly, very slowly he tilted his head to his right side, leaned in and gave you a long and tender kiss. Just soft lips on soft lips. He pulled you closer to his body, stopped kissing you and let his gaze run over your face to make sure it was okay for you. When you smiled at him positively, he gave you another loving and delicate kiss, just soft lips on soft lips.

He wanted to make everything right, he wanted it to be perfect. He didn't want to rush things or overstep your boundaries. He didn't want to risk losing you. And then he felt his cock getting hard…and you felt it too. You were kind of proud that you had this effect on him because he had the same effect on you, you felt a sweet throbbing between your legs and you two hadn't even kissed passionately. And it shows you that he liked you as a woman more than you dared to hope.

But Loki panicked. His body shouldn't react like this. Not now, not yet but you were too attractive, too seductive and your lips were moistened with the sweetest love potion he had ever tasted. His repressed feelings for you broke free. He wanted you but in a more decent way. You were so precious and sweet and so special to him. He didn't want it to happen like this, you deserved better.

"I'm sorry, my princess, please excuse me. I'm…I'm back in a minute," Loki said quietly.

He cupped your cheeks with his hands and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. He looked at you with a guilt-ridden face.

"Loki…let me help to…it's okay, everything is fine," you said quietly and you smiled at him, biting onto your lower lip.

His kisses made your skin tingle and they also made your desire for him bigger. He was shy now. This wonderful, strong and confident man was shy. How could you not fall in love with him?

"Please, just give me a minute, snowflake, it's not your fault, darling, you're perfect, so perfect" he whispered embarrassedly while he rubbed a thumb tenderly over your lips and off he went.

You watched him leave with a soft smile on your face and took a sip of your champagne and went over to the others. You wanted to give him all the time and space he needed. You knew he would come back to you.

"Uuhhh, what was that?" Nat teased you.

"A kiss," you answered, grinning like an idiot.

"Aaannnddd? Was it good?" Nat teased you further.

"Yeah!" you answered shortly, still grinning.

"He liked it too, I would say…"

"Hmmh yeah, I hope so, but I'm not a good kisser…"

"Hisss pantsss became too tight, theee tent I saw in hisss leathers was impressssive, sooo you must be a gooood kisser," Clint, obviously drunk, joined Nat's teasing.

"Think he needsss a moment to cool down…it's going to be a looong looong night for you, girrlll. Beee prepaaaared, he has great ssstamina." Clint said and Nat winked at you.

"You two are impossible," you said playfully, your cheeks reddening and you wished Loki would come back to you soon.

"Don't worry, dear. It was just a question of time. You two are a perfect couple. And as I said, he likes you very much…his hoodie, you know. Cheers, sweetie and a very Happy New Year," and Nat and Clint clinked their glasses with yours. Loki's hoodie…

You missed Loki, you didn't feel offended by him. You wished he wouldn't have gone. You were proud that you affected him so much and you wanted him to be by your side. You would have hidden his erection with your skirt if he had asked you to do it because you would never want him to feel embarrassed in front of others. You wanted him to feel safe with you. But he didn't ask you to do so. He preferred to leave the winter garden for a short while to cool himself down. It was alright for you, you understood him. You knew he felt embarrassed and that he would never try to hurt your feelings."

You saw Thor by the window-front, talking to Bruce and Tony and you went over to them.

"Happy New Year, guys!"

"Happy New Year, y/n!" the three answered in unison.

"Have you already thought about our job offer?" Bruce asked you curiously.

"Oh yes…I would love to work here, for you, for the Avengers. It's a great offer for me and a big opportunity. I also would like to rent an apartment here. I like being here and I don't want to live alone anymore. And it would be a short way to the lab," you laughed.

"You could move in with Loki," Thor grinned.

"What? No! I don't think he would want this. "

"But I think it would be nice for you to live together with my brother…he just kissed you, right? And when you're here you two are always together anyway, I mean…" and Thor shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, but… we're just friends I guess and now he's gone missing. Do you have an idea where he could be, Thor?"

"I'll look for him, Lady y/n…sometimes he acts somewhat…unpredictable."

You couldn't suppress a laugh.

"Thanks for your help, Thor. And…your brother is perfect. Loki is the most wonderful man I've ever met. He's lovable and caring."

"He is, Lady y/n. I look for him and bring him back to you." and off he went.

"So it's sealed? You'll work for and with us?" Tony asked.

"Yesss!" You answered enthusiastically.

"Then welcome to the team and to our family, y/n. And take good care of reindeer games! " Tony stated, shook your hand and congratulated you on your decision.

"I'll do that, I promise. If he lets me."

"He'll let you believe me. He has already fallen for you."

You didn't know what to answer because for you it wasn't that clear yet. You were still insecure.

"Awesome, y/n! Then I'll show you the lab in every detail in the next couple of days," said Bruce happily and shook your hand too.

"Thank you, Bruce, I can't wait to start."

You were overly happy that you had your dream job now but you rather wanted Loki to come back to you.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙❄️💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Godt nytt år - Happy New Year

Snøfnugg - snowflake

Tags:

@lokisprettygirl @wheredafandomat @smolvenger @lokixryss @huntress-artemiss @fictive-sl0th

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Fëanorian Week - Maglor

And we continue with a little more sadness...

I am very sorry :S

Words: 510

Characters: Maglor & Maedhros, Maglor & Elrond

Prompts: Childhood,  Music & Songs of Power, Elrond & Elros, Redemption

Warnings: Sadness, injury, abandonment

Nelyafinwë, glorious firstborn of their prideful father, had never amounted to more than a technically proficient but undeniably uninspired metalworker.

Few were the crafts made by his blessed, strong hands, and even fewer had survived the ravages of time and the justified outrage after their terrible crime.

As he sat by the water, Maglor who’d not been Kanafinwë in so long that he barely remembered the cheeky prince haunting his taut skin and spasming muscles, closed his burned hand around the miniature harp until the pain chased away the painful memories he’d believed to have been long lost.

Digging into his ruined skin was one of those fabled creations, as simple and sober as the man himself, and he added his own liquid sacrifice of fraternal gratitude and boundless solitude to the merciless ocean witnessing his ultimate fall from grace dispassionately.

He still recalled the day his tall, slender brother had presented him with the naïve imitation of an instrument Maglor would—in time—learn to tame and master to an unparalleled level.

It had been a gift of love, a solemn promise, and a heartening declaration of unconditional, unshakable faith in a younger sibling’s innate talent.

There had only been three strings then, and Maglor had lost one in the tumultuous events that had dominated their lives in this frightening, new world, but he’d never given up that tiny harp.

A puerile, paranoid fear assailed him at the mere thought of losing it as it had become the gleaming, fragile, irreparably battered symbol of a childhood he resented and regretted in equal measures.

His brother was gone, and he was alone, humming fitfully along to the dissonant strumming of the worn filaments that cut his body and soul to shreds.

What songs of power, what sweet music of happiness and horror he had unleashed on this precious treasure.

The dreams he wove now, though, were but fleeting whisps of fading nostalgia; they were as feeble and unsteady as the one coaxing them forth, one tremulous, wavering note at a time.

With a heavy sigh, he stood slowly before padding noiselessly to the boundaries of a realm he’d never willingly breach.

Laying down the last vestige of love and honour reverently on a bench Elrond visited at times, Maglor took his sullen, silent leave of all that had been and that would never return.

“May it sing for children and lovers once more,” he whispered hoarsely. “It is too beautiful a thing to be condemned to incessant dirges and lamentations.”

Accepting that even his tremendous might and desperate affection had their boundaries and that he’d drifted too far out onto the sea of oblivion to ever return, Maglor relinquished the part of him that yearned for redemption with the same cold resolution he’d displayed when casting the Silmaril into its watery prison.

Elrond, pitiful captive and beloved son, would find it in time, and he’d understand.

“Do not weep,” Maglor whispered. “Sing merry songs that dispel the gloom that has been blanket and coat to you for far too long.”

-> Masterlist

@feanorianweek, here is my second submission!

[betrosed]

The following excerpt is from CS Lewis’ novel Till We Have Faces, within which he retells the Greek myth of Cupid and Psyche from the perspective of one of Psyche’s sisters, whom Lewis names Orual. At this point in the novel, Orual (who hides her ugly face beneath a veil) has been ruling as the revered Queen of Glome for many years. Her counselor, Arnom, has come to inform her that her beloved right-hand captain, Bardia, is approaching death.

Arnom was an old and trusted counsellor now. He laid his hand on my arm. "Queen," he said gently and very gravely, "it would make him the less likely to recover if you now went to him."

"Do I carry such an infection about me?" said I. "Is there death in my aspect, even through a veil?"

"Bardia is your most loyal and most loving subject," said Arnom. "To see you would call up all his powers — perhaps crack them. He'd rouse himself to his duty and courtesy. A hundred affairs of state on which he meant to speak to you would crowd into his mind. He'd rack his brains to remember things he has forgotten for these last nine days. It might kill him. Leave him to drowse and dream. It's his best chance now."

It was as bitter a truth as I'd ever tasted, but I drank it. Would I not have crouched silent in my own dungeons as long as Arnom bade me if it would add one featherweight to Bardia's chance of life? Three days I bore it (I, the old fool, with hanging dugs and shrivelled flanks).

On the fourth I said, "I can bear it no longer." On the fifth Arnom came to me, himself weeping, and I knew his tidings without words. And this is a strange folly, that what seemed to me worst of all was that Bardia had died without ever hearing what it would have shamed him to hear. It seemed to me that all would be bearable if, once only, I could have gone to him and whispered in his ear, "Bardia, I loved you."

When they laid him on the pyre I could only stand by to honour him. Because I was neither his wife nor kin, I might not wail nor beat the breast for him. Ah, if I could have beaten the breast, I would have put on steel gloves or hedgehog skins to do it.

I waited three days, as the custom is, and then went to comfort (so they call it) his widow. It was not only duty and usage that drove me. Because he had loved her she was, in a way, surely enough the enemy; yet who else in the whole world could now talk to me?

They brought me into the upper room in her house where she sat at her spinning — very pale, but very calm. Calmer than I. Once I had been surprised that she was so much less beautiful than report had made her. Now, in her later years, she had won a new kind of beauty; it was a proud, still sort of face.

"Lady — Ansit," I said, taking both her hands (she had not time to get them away from me), "what shall I say to you? How can I speak of him and not say that your loss is indeed without measure? And that's no comfort. Unless you can think even now that it is better to have had and lost such a husband than to enjoy any man else in the world forever."

"The Queen does me great honour," said Ansit, pulling her hands out of mine so as to stand with them crossed on her breast, her eyes cast down, in the court fashion.

"Oh, dear Lady, un-queen me a little, I beseech you. Is it as if you and I had never met till yesterday? After yours (never think I'd compare them) my loss is greatest. I pray you, your seat again. And your distaff. We shall talk better to that movement. And you will let me sit here beside you?"

She sat down and resumed her spinning; her face at rest and her lips a little pursed, very housewifely. She would give me no help.

"It was very unlooked for," said I. "Did you at first see any danger in this sickness?"

"Yes."

"Did you so? To me Arnom said it ought to have been a light matter."

"He said that to me, Queen. He said it would be a light matter for a man who had all his strength to fight it."

"Strength? But the Lord Bardia was a strong man."

"Yes — as a tree that is eaten away within."

"Eaten away? And with what? I never knew this."

"I suppose not, Queen. He was tired. He had worked himself out — or been worked. Ten years ago he should have given over and lived as old men do. He was not made of iron or brass, but flesh."

"He never looked nor spoke like an old man."

"Perhaps you never saw him, Queen, at the times when a man shows his weariness. You never saw his haggard face in early morning. Nor heard his groan when you (because you had sworn to do it) must shake him and force him to rise. You never saw him come home late from the palace, hungry, yet too tired to eat. How should you, Queen? I was only his wife. He was too well-mannered, you know, to nod and yawn in a Queen's house."

"You mean that his work — ?"

"Five wars, thirty-one battles, nineteen embassies, taking thought for this and thought for that, speaking a word in one ear, and another, and another, soothing this man and scaring that and flattering a third, devising, consulting, remembering, guessing, forecasting . . . and the Pillar Room and the Pillar Room. The mines are not the only place where a man can be worked to death."

This was worse than the worst I had looked for. A flash of anger passed through me, then a horror of misgiving; could it (but that was fantastical) be true? But the misery of that mere suspicion made my own voice almost humble.

"You speak in your sorrow, Lady. But (forgive me) this is mere fantasy. I never spared myself more than him. Do you tell me a strong man'd break under the burden a woman's bearing still?"

"Who that knows men would doubt it? They're harder, but we're tougher. They do not live longer than we. They do not weather a sickness better. Men are brittle. And you, Queen, were the younger."

My heart shrivelled up cold and abject within me. "If this is true," said I, "I've been deceived. If he had dropped but a word of it, I'd have taken every burden from him, sent him home forever, loaded with every honour I could give."

"You know him little, Queen, if you think he'd ever have spoken that word. Oh, you have been a fortunate queen; no prince ever had more loving servants."

"I know I have had loving servants. Do you grudge me that? Even now, in your grief, will your heart serve you to grudge me that? Do you mock me because that is the only sort of love I ever had or could have? No husband; no child. And you — you who have had all — "

"All you left me, Queen."

"Left you, fool? What mad thought is in your mind?"

"Oh, I know well enough that you were not lovers. You left me that. The divine blood will not mix with subjects', they say. You left me my share. When you had used him, you would let him steal home to me; until you needed him again. After weeks and months at the wars— you and he night and day together, sharing the councils, the dangers, the victories, the soldiers' bread, the very jokes — he could come back to me, each time a little thinner and greyer and with a few more scars, and fall asleep before his supper was down, and cry out in his dream, 'Quick, on the right there. The Queen's in danger.' And next morning — the Queen's a wonderful early riser in Glome — the Pillar Room again. I'll not deny it; I had what you left of him."

Her look and voice now were such as no woman could mistake.

"What?" I cried. "Is it possible you're jealous?"

She said nothing.

I sprang to my feet and pulled aside my veil. "Look, look, you fool!" I cried. "Are you jealous of this?"

She started back from me, gazing, so that for a moment I wondered if my face were a terror to her. But it was not fear that moved her. For the first time that prim mouth of hers twitched. The tears began to gather in her eyes. "Oh," she gasped, "Oh. I never knew you also . . . ?"

"What?"

"You loved him. You've suffered, too. We both . . .

She was weeping; and I. Next moment we were in each other's arms. It was the strangest thing that our hatred should die out at the very moment she first knew her husband was the man I loved. It would have been far otherwise if he were still alive; but on that desolate island (our blank, un-Bardia'd life) we were the only two castaways. We spoke a language, so to call it, which no one else in the huge heedless world could understand. Yet it was a language only of sobs. We could not even begin to speak of him in words; that would have unsheathed both daggers at once.

The softness did not last. I have seen something like this happen in a battle. A man was coming at me, I at him, to kill. Then came a sudden great gust of wind that wrapped our cloaks over our swords and almost over our eyes, so that we could do nothing to one another but must fight the wind itself. And that ridiculous contention, so foreign to the business we were on, set us both laughing, face to face — friends for a moment — and then at once enemies again and forever. So here.

Presently (I have no memory how it came about) we were apart again; I now resuming my veil, her face hard and cold.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Rest Your Weary Hands Part 9

This is an in-between chapter that will be two stories, the reader in Kattegat and Ivar and his Brothers fighting in England. There's no Freydis in this.

Part 8

Contains: War, brief mentions of smut, very minor character death (a bad guy), History actually states the Ivar killed Eelle so I've corrected the show's inaccuracy, mutual pining and Ubee is sick of it.

1,654 words

Comment if you want to be tagged.

Queen Aslaug walks into your little Healers store with one request, help her son. Said to be blessed by the gods, you find your life becoming more and more intertwined with the young prince as you do your best to ease his pain. It will soon be apparent that outside forces have other ideas.

"Lady y/n, Lady y/n. May I have a moment of your time." It was taking a while to get used to being treated like a member of the royal family. The man trying to get your attention was the local cobbler, he was tall with friendly wide eyes and steady hands.

"Of course, Thor, there's no need for so much formality, y/n is fine. What do you need?" you walked with him to his storefront and sat down on some log stools.

"My daughter has been complaining of terrible stuffiness and face pain, I was wondering if there's anything you can do for her?" You nodded.

"Of course, I'll drop some tea and cream by later." He said thank you one last time and you left.

***********

"Y/n, come sit by me." When Aslaug had that tone, it meant she was going to tell you to do something while making it seem like she was asking you to do it.

"I know you've been getting along very well with Kindra, I also know that you've been teaching her how to read. I have asked to her start working as your assistant for now on, I need you here to help me with court and you need an extra pair of hands." You weren't even going to bother arguing.

You really liked Kindra, she was a bright and capable young woman. But, you got along well with all the servants. They liked you because you treated them like people, took care of their injuries and sicknesses for free, and didn't treat them like they were below you. Kindra had spent some time helping you after an accident on the fortification of the city walls.

Afterwards, she had asked you how you knew everything and once you told her you could read, she seemed sad. So you did the only thing you could think of to make her feel better and offered to teach her how to read for herself. After that, you two became fast friends, she had expressed to you that she wanted to be a healer, but she was always too busy to come and work with you.

"I've already told her, she's waiting in your room for you already."

Ivar can still remember when Bjorn told him, it played in his head regularly.

You couldn't stand up long enough to blood eagle him.

That didn't matter now, he was standing over Eelle cutting into this flesh while he screamed. He had finally avenged his Father and reclaimed the honour of his name, and it was thanks to you.

Bjorn was standing off the side with his other Brothers while Ubbe stood behind him to hand him the various tools he would need. The discomfort of leaning all the weight on his crutch didn't even register, all he could feel was the axe's weight in his hand.

As Eelle breathed his last breath, Ivar looked over the crowd, not seeing your proud face looking up at him made the victory feel like nothing. That night, he would drown his sorrow in a shieldmaiden who looked just enough like you for him to imagine it was.

****

"Ivar, if you keep going like this, you're going to have your own army of bastard before you go back home." Ubbe was over it, they were in the middle of fighting a war and when Ivar wasn't planning or fighting, he had his dick buried in a new woman.

"You all do it, why can't I?" Ubbe shook his head.

"Because we don't have someone waiting at home for us Ivar, don't you think y/n will be hurt when she hears all that you've been getting up while you were away?" Ivar ignored him.

"We are just friends Ubbe, she won't care." Ubbe was getting up and walking away.

"If you were just friends, the women you take back to your tent wouldn't look like her. She won't wait around forever Ivar, many of these great warriors will stay in Kattegat after we are done here. It won't be long before she catches someone's eye, these men have heard tales of her greatness, she will not remain unpursued for long." Ubbe didn't stay long enough for Ivar to respond.

****

The doors of The Great Hall burst open and a handful of men stumbled in. One was clearly badly injured, so you and Kindra jumped up to run to his assistance.

"What is going on?" Aslaug didn't sound impressed.

"We came here to discuss some trade with you, were keeping Earl Geir's land safe while he is fighting with The Great Army, we were attacked by bandits on our way here."

You and Kindra took him to the back while the man spoke to Aslaug. The wound was nasty, deep and long, he would need stitches.

"You have to make sure a wound is free of debris before you close it or it will infect." You explained to her how to clean and close a long cut without worrying about it splitting open, then you saw something.

It was self inflicted.

You looked over at her with a look that the man wouldn't be able to pick up on.

"Excuse me sir, it seems that I've left some supplies in storage. I'll leave you here with Kindra and then I'll be back to stitch you up." You ran out and spoke to a guard, you didn't tell him your suspicion, but you did tell him to make sure there were always people here while these men were.

You came back a few moments later with some herbs for tea, Kindra had managed to get the man to relax to the point where he wasn't always looking at his sword.

"Sorry about that, I've been so busy that I've forgotten to stock my trunk." The man had no idea you knew what was going on.

****

It was late that night when it happened, there was the rustle of activity, and then men were holding their knives to the royal guards.

"Consider this a coup, turn over your throne and no one gets hurts." Aslaug looked over at you, you had informed her of your suspicion and she had told you she would let you handle it how you saw fit. You had said to her that if they tried to take over, she should make it seem like she was going to let them.

"We don't have the men to stop you, but your rule will not last." She sat back down and lifted her drink to her lips.

"I think we should celebrate. Thrall, bring us your best horns." You got up instead.

"I can get it, I feel a headache coming on and I need to get some tea. You wouldn't want to be too ill to care for your Brother's wound?" He waved you away, you returned a few minutes later with a tray of cups, but not before getting word outside as to what was going on.

"Where's your tea?" He didn't seem concerned.

"It tastes terrible, I swallow it in one go." He took your explanation without question.

You passed around the cup and then the servants went to fill them. You knew you had to give the royal guards outside a little more time before they could come in and deal with the threat.

A few moments later, all the men that took a drink started to act strange, and then there was a bang and the crash of a door.

Backup had arrived.

It was too late, the men started frothing out the mouth and then they all flopped over dead, the guards finished the rest off quickly.

"They never suspect it's the cups." Aslaug laughed, and the one still alive man was dragged off to be interrogated.

"I don't think we should tell your Sons about this, something tells me they wouldn't take it well. We will deal with Earl Geir if he returns."

****

Ecbert was dead and York had fallen, some of the warriors had chosen to stay behind to farm on the agreed upon land while the rest decided to head back home. The Brothers had only grown closer over the last five months, the subject of who would rule when the time came become less of a competition and more of a collaboration, and in the end, they had decided that no matter what, they would remain Brother and find a peaceful solution.

While Ivar had gotten much stronger, his ability had not changed, but he had. He was different, more confident; it seemed that unless he was in terrible pain, his legs no longer caused him emotional suffering. His Brothers were so proud of him, he and Sigurd no longer fought and time away from their mother allowed them to heal from the neglect they felt at her hands.

They were ready to return, older, wiser, as conquering heroes.

****

"My Queen, a scout boat has been seen on the horizon hosting our flag, they should arrive by the afternoon." Aslaug was currently talking to the builder about expanding The Great Hall for everyone's return when she got the word. No one had heard much, only rumours that The Great Army had laid waste to the Saxon lands and that their foes were vanquished, she had no idea how many men would return or if her Sons and Bjorn were still alive.

The boat touched the dock a few hours before dusk, half of Kattegat was there to greet it.

"The Great Army had been victorious, all the Sons of Ragnar have survived the battle and will be returning home come nightfall tomorrow." You and Kindra grabbed each other and started jumping up and down.

"What wonderful news! They will be home safe with the spoils of Christian land. Praise Odin" You shared in Kindra joy, Ivar was ok and everything was right with the world.

Part 10

@ladynightshade30 @katshuya @istorkyou @smears-and-spots @youbloodymadgenius @draculasbride-blog @profoundtyrantharmony @vikingsfranatic @hellie98 @localtrashopossum @polly-jayne @serenitybloodmoon @southernbe @rebyl-dollface @hamburgerslippers @kaybee87 @wintersire @dizzbishh @bubblybrianna @simonsbluee @sukijxhn @shit-i-say-shit-i-think

[slothspaghettiwrites]

All That Glitters

All That Glitters - Cosmic Giving Fic Raffle

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: Historic/Royal AU, Spanking, D/s undertones, power imbalance, slight degradation, choking, innocent but bratty reader, marriage contracts, implied murder

Relationships: Commander!Lee Bodecker x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 1757

Summary: Your father has signed a marriage contract with a neighbouring kingdom, and you refuse to give up your comfortable life.

A/N: The first Cosmic Giving fic is here! For @every-when /@lettersandsodas who requested a Medieval/Royal AU with Lee Bodecker! I didn't set a specific time period here, but tried to make it seem very old.

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform. I have discontinued my taglist - follow @slothspaghettilibrary to be notified of when I post.

The candles glowed brilliantly; the flame danced across the silver and crystal that display your kingdom’s wealth to all those who attended the ball that evening. A party to announce your engagement, finally, to a neighbouring prince. Last week, your father proclaimed to the entire court that you were to be wed, and even when you begged him to release you from the contract, he refused. It was a good political match, and that was all that matters to him.

Congratulations rained down upon you from the ladies in court. The lords praised your father’s genius and cunning. The youngest of five children, you were the least valued member of the royal family, so a prince expressing interest in your hand in marriage was a boon for the country. Your ladies-in-waiting fawned over you more than ever to garner your favour, hoping to be taken with you when you left the kingdom. The servants who had been with you since before you can remember carried a sadness in their eyes at the news, but offered their brightest smiles and encouragement. Everyone seemed truly happy with the match.

Everyone except Sir Lee, Lord Commander of the King’s Guard.

He had never been good at masking his emotions or at holding his tongue. You’d heard whispers of how power hungry he was, that he would do anything to gain more land and control, but your father trusted him with his life. And that was why when he asked you to dance you were more than happy to leave your fiancé behind where he sat on your father’s right. A seat of honour, really, only bestowed previously on Sir Lee himself.

You carefully lifted the hem of your skirts as the music sprung to life and the fast-paced tune began. You spun around one another. The glow of the candles illuminated the sweat forming on his brow from the immense heat of the room. His hand barely touched yours as you moved in unison around the other dancer. To anyone who looked on, it was almost chaste the way he danced compared to the couples around you.

His eyes, though, the palest blue you’d ever seen, spoke of the darkness that whirled underneath. Of the strange anger he barely held in check that evening. They transfixed you so that when you barely noticed how the music faded away and how the cool air swept across your heated flesh.

“Sir Lee,” you cleared your throat delicately, “we seem to have left the party.”

“You appeared in need of fresh air, your Highness.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you not trust me? I am your father’s most trusted lord and knight.”

“No, I- certainly I trust you, but this is indecent. I’m certain the Prince will be waiting for my return.”

“Ah, yes, the boy downing glasses of wine like he hasn’t drunk in weeks? He certainly seems like an excellent choice for a maiden such as yourself.”

“Hold your tongue.” You scowled at him. The prince may be heavy-handed, but he was still a royal.

His sneer made your chest tighten. The cool façade around him slipping for just a moment, revealed in the moonlight casting an opposing, cold glow to the warm candles at your back. Another breeze rolls through the balcony and causes you to shiver, gooseflesh forming under the sleeves of your dress. Though you cannot be sure if it is from the wind or the older man standing so close to you can already hear the whispers that the servants will spread tomorrow.

“I believe it is time I return to the party.”

You hastily turned away from him and back towards the door, intent on forgetting the whole interaction. But Lee gripped your arm and pulled you back to him, shoving you into the far reaches of the balcony until your back slammed into the ivy-covered stone wall. He planted one hand next to your head and obscured your view of the doorway. The tightness in your chest twisted as you tried to take a deep breath. His other hand landed over your mouth before you could scream.

“Don’t even think about it, princess,” he grunted, his heated breath fanning over your face. “I’m done playin’ games. You been givin’ me eyes since that fucking announcement. Ya think I don’t got eyes? I see how you act around court, sticking your nose up like a bossy bit of goods. I see how you look at that boy. You want a man, don’t ya?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. Of course, Sir Lee had noticed. Just as you had noticed how he looked at you in recent months. The unbridled lust that dominated his features when talk of finding a husband for you came up in conversation. The King was eager to get rid of you now that you were old enough. Your hands trembled as they gripped at the front of Lee’s embroidered tunic. The symbol of your father’s reign decorated his breast, mocking you now. It used to mean you were protected, safe, but not anymore. You hated the sight of it now that he was thrusting you into the unknown and disregarding your wishes.

You nodded when his hand remained clamped over your mouth. His eyes flicked down to his hand and then further to your heaving chest. He licked his lips.

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, princess,” he leaned in close until his lips nearly touched your ear. “I’m the law around here. I know everything that happens in the castle. And if you wanna end this marriage contract, so you can keep being a spoiled brat, you’re gonna have to do some things for me in return.”

His hand fell away, moving to rest on your throat instead, forcing your face up to meet his gaze. “And what do you want, Sir Lee?”

“Everything.”

Before you can respond, his lips crash against yours. A sharp gasp through your nose. Your fingers tightened around his tunic until you’re certain you’ve ruined the material. Lee held you who he wanted you. His tongue licked at the seam of your closed lips until you opened for him. He invaded your mouth, his body forcing you further back into the wall until you could do nothing but surrender to his will. He moaned when your tongue touched his, when you gave him the reaction he wanted and started a new dance.

His other hand gripped your waist, squeezed until you whimpered in pain and turned your face away from his hungry mouth. Your heart raced, thundered in your chest as you tried to catch your breath and regain any sense of decorum. You’d been kissed before, but nothing like that. This lit a fire in your blood and made you crave for something you’d never had before. Should you demand he release you or should you beg him for more?

“So you aren’t as innocent as you look, princess?” He smirked, pulling back to see the look on your face. “How many of the little lords have you spread your legs for? How many of those inbred fucks have seen you in pleasure?”

You squeaked, tried to defend your modesty, but Lee was much quicker. It felt like your thoughts were swimming in honeyed wine, thick and dark and quick to lead you down a path of destruction. He manhandled you, twisting the two of you so you over looked balcony and bending you over the ledge. Your gasp echoed into the night, the gardens behind the palace bathed in starlight and promising to hold your sinful secrets.

Cold air creeped up your legs as Lee flipped the hem of your skirts up, revealing your delicate flesh to the night. He grabbed your ass, squeezing each cheek in his rough hands until you were whimpering. You bit your lip to silence yourself. If you wanted out, you had to just get through this humiliating affair.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he groaned, before pulling a hand back and bring down on your skin.

His palm blistered your behind again. Your whole body clenching tight against the assault. When his hands squeezed your sore flesh, you whimpered, tears brimming and threatening to spill.

“Next time,” he hummed, leaning over until his lips were pressed against your. “Next time, I’m gonna spend the whole night bruising your ass, so every time you sit on that pretty little throne, you remember who owns you.”

A wave of heat rushed through you. All of you, every fibre of your being, wanted to hate Lee, wanted to have his tongue cut out for saying such crass things to you, but your body worked against you. You throbbed with need at his words. The pain radiating from your backside was glorious, made your craving grow until you found yourself nodding at his words.

“Lee, please I-”

“Shh, I got what ya need.”

He ground his hips into yours- hard, covered cock pressed into the seam of your cheeks obscenely. The urge to move your hips, to meet the roll of his hips, was almost overpowering. You wanted him, wanted this. Never had you been spoken to in such a way, treated like a common whore, but god how it made your insides burn. You’d let him do anything to your body at that moment.

Glass shattered behind you, forcing the two of you to stop, but it was quickly followed by raucous laughter and shouts for more wine. A heavy hand falls around your throat, toying with strands of your necklace, the twinkling jewels and pearls tightening against your skin. Your breathing stuttered, fingers clawing at the hard railing. Lee sighed heavily, his body still pressing into you, but the air around you had shifted. The urgency of the moment, the rush of something so illicit as seeped away and left you shivering despite the cold.

Lee pulled away, waiting for you to right yourself and your skirts yourself. The huff and unsubtle glare at his thoughtlessness didn’t go unnoticed by him, a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth up. He stalked forward until he was pressing you back into the railing. All those confusing feelings made your stomach twist. You wanted him to touch you, to treat you like the princess you were and whore you weren’t.

“Come to my quarters at dawn,” he cupped your cheek, stroking the heated, tear stained skin. “Your little engagement problem will be taken care of by then.”

[rogersevans]

Quarantine Wedding

Pairings: Chris Evans x Y/n Downey - Chris Evans x Y/n Evans

Warnings: just fluff, wedding (if they make you emotional), implied smut towards the end

Summary: Y/n never planned her dream wedding, but in their back garden, surrounded by their families, during a global pandemic seems pretty perfect to her. apart of the evans’ series.

Sunday mornings were Y/n’s and Chris’s favourite day of the week, the only time they got to stay in bed, tangled in the sheets and each other, going undisturbed from the outside world. Chris currently had Y/n lying between his legs, her back against his bare chest as he rested against the head of the bed.  

Y/n was absentmindedly playing with the engagement ring on her finger, something she had started to do since he put it on, twiddling it with her thumb.

Dodger was at their feet, on his back with his legs spread, snoring away.  

“We should get married.” Y/n mumbled like she was thinking something through in her mind, thumb still playing with the ring.

“We are...” Chris reminded her, placing a small kiss to her temple. “That’s what this is for.” Taking her small hand in his, holding it up to show off the ring as it glistened in the Sunday morning sun.  

“No,” she protested with a giggle, getting up onto her knees and wrapping the sheet around her naked body, turning to face her fiancé. “I mean sooner, like tomorrow.”  

“Tomorrow?”

“Or Thursday if you’re too busy.” Rolling her eyes playfully she scooted closer to him, now in his lap, the sheet now being held up by their bodies, closing the gap. Her hands finding his hair, raking her fingers through it and massaging his scalp. “I want to be Mrs Evans, I want to get married in our back garden, with our families... No one else.” Chris hummed in agreement, letting his hands fall to her hips.  

“You don’t want a big wedding?” Licking his lips, his eyes now open and focused on every detail of her, the small freckle that sat just above the curve of her right breast, the thin chain that sat around her neck with a small diamond C resting in the centre he’d bought her on their second anniversary, the butt dimpled in her chin, something she hated but another thing he adored.  

Truthfully, she didn’t, she never envisioned herself surrounded by 300 people as she said ‘I do’, she just wanted a small, intimate wedding, less than 30 people.  

The pair had been engaged for five months and the pandemic had haltered all of their plans to celebrate, they had various zoom celebrations with their families and friends and when they were allowed to travel back home their hallway was filled with presents and balloons.  

They had managed to keep the news out of the press, wanting to bask in the newness of their engagement privately, it had been blissful but Y/n was becoming impatient.  

Silently shaking her head, she dipped her head her lips just a whisper away from Chris’s, “I just want you, as my husband.” She whispered making Chris’s entire body shiver, and in one swift movement Y/n is on her back with Chris lying on his side next to her, propped up on his elbow and tracing shapes on her are stomach.

She doesn’t stop herself from reaching up and cupping his cheek, booping his nose with her thumb, making them both giggle and then running her fingers over his beard, one her favourite features of her fiancé the way it feels against her skin makes her feel alive.  

“Tomorrow.” Was all he replied with, letting his lips fall down to her nose.  

After another hour of being tangled up in one another, the room filled with her soft moans and Chris made love to her, turned on at the thought of her becoming his wife tomorrow. They started organising everything, never leaving the bed unless it was for Dodger, food or toilet breaks.  

They had delivered the news to their families and the cheers or screams (Carly and Shanna) we’re piercing, even though the speaker of their phones.  

Chris booked flights for his family to be able to attend, they were getting in at around 10pm that night. Y/n demanded that everyone be tested before they stepped foot in their home, so she arranged for someone to come out and test everyone. Y/n’s family were due to arrive tomorrow morning, the nerves bubbled in the pit of her stomach at the thought of her mom and dad being in the same room again, something she hadn’t experienced in years.  

“Baby, it’ll be fine.” Giving a chaste kiss to her knuckles, “we’re getting married tomorrow.” He mumbled against them, his voice raspy and tired after a long day of planning, all doubt or anxiety about her parents leaving her body just from his touch, his words settled her completely.  

“I can’t wait to be your wife.” Standing to her tiptoes she nudged her nose with his, their gaze still looked before her eyes fluttered shut, breathing him in and relishing in the moment before his lips found hers.  

“What are you going to do about a dress?” Scott asked in a hushed tone, not wanting Chris to hear their conversation, closing the door to their bedroom behind him.  

The house was extremely busy downstairs with everyone completing last minute preparations so Scott and Y/n had snuck away for a quiet moment to get ready, knowing Y/n didn’t function when stressed. He could tell she wanted nothing more than to have Chris at her side, one didn’t move without the other.

But Scott demanded, as the self appointed best man/man of honour, that they be apart for the night before and the day of, still up-keeping some form of tradition.

Unknowingly to Scott, Chris had snuck back into their bedroom last night when everyone was asleep, not wanting to be away from one another with the excitement of the next day bubbling. 

Like children on Christmas Eve.  

The busyness of the day had helped keep them both distracted, not giving them much time to sneak off for a moment of privacy. 

“I bought something a few months ago, thinking ahead.” Y/n rummaged through her and Chris’s shared walk-in closet, plucking a black garment bag which was hidden at the very back.  

Unzipping the bag, Y/n revealed the white, embroidered, floor length cami wedding dress. Scott couldn’t contain his gasp as he softly took the dress in his hands, admiring it silently.  

“Where did you find this?” His eyes not leaving the dress, his fingers running over the patterns.

“ASOS,” she started. “I saw it on there and had to have it, I’m going to wear it with these...” Trailing off as she bent down to pick up her pair of all white, high-topped converses, now beaming from ear to ear.

“You’re joking right?”

“Heels aren’t me,” shrugging her shoulders she took the dress from Scott and disappeared into the en-suite to get ready.  

“What about rings?” Scott asked on the other side of the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed go through the checklist he had created in his mind.

“I think Chris has that sorted.” Was all she replied too focused on not damaging the dress as she slipped it on carefully, not hearing when Scott said something about checking on the decorations and leaving. 

After ten minutes Y/n stepped out of the bathroom to show Scott, her hair now falling freely over her shoulders and the slightest bit of make-up, the dress hugged her figure perfectly as the flowed around her.  

“Wow.” Chris’s voice sounded, making her jump back behind the bathroom door, shutting it, hoping he didn’t see too much. “Baby, what’re you doing?” Walking over to the bathroom door, trying to push it open.

“I thought you were Scott. You’re not supposed to see me!” Y/n cried from behind the door.

“I don’t care, we’re getting married during a pandemic, in our back garden with less than twenty people... So, I think the traditions are out the window.” His hand still on the door knob, letting a breathy chuckle out. “C’mon gorgeous, I wanna see you.” He attempted to persuade her.

Slowly the door started to open to reveal Y/n stood there, holding either side of her dress as she twirled for Chris, giggling as she did.

Well fuck, the sight made Chris’s heart swell, his palms became sweaty as his eyes trailed over her, drinking in her appearance, his smile never leaving his lips.  

Y/n took the opportunity to take in her fiancé's appearance, he was currently in black dress pants, a white shirt tucked into his pants with the top few buttons undone, and a tie hanging around his neck, untied. Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight, butterflies erupting in her stomach.

“Was gonna ask you to do my tie...” He choked out, his eyes now meeting hers.  

Without word she took a step forward and began fastening the last few buttons before making work of his tie, his hands found her hips, rubbing small circles with his thumbs as he watched her intently.  

“You look...” He started, but was cut off by Y/n.

“Handsome, you look insanely handsome. I’m lucky you’re about to become my husband.” Her eyes still fixated on the tie, her tongue dragging across her bottom lip as she concentrated. Once satisfied her fingers smoothed out his collar and tie. “Now go, before Scott sees you in here. Anyone would think he’s the one getting married.” Both chuckling softly.  

With her command Chris didn’t move away, just one step closer to her, closing the gap between them, his hands now cupping her cheeks, both looking into each other's eyes for a few seconds before he dipped his head down to kiss her.  

This kiss wasn’t like all the others he had sneaked in the past twenty four hours, it was different.

Y/n’s mind casting back to the night Chris told her he loved her for the first time, the kiss matching that. It was filled with adoration, passion and love, making her stomach do flips and her heart hammer against her chest.  

“Go,” Y/n mumbled against his lips after a few seconds, pushing his abdomen. “I’ll see you down there handsome.” Giving her one last kiss before walking away, leaving her now by herself as she jumped up and down in their bathroom, the tiniest squeal leaving her lips.  

The next half an hour rushed by so quickly, now the pair were stood at the bottom of their garden in front of their families, their garden littered with fairy lights hung above them, their families stood watching proudly. 

It was simple and perfect, no fuss. 

Scott was ordaining the ceremony something Chris and Y/n weren’t aware he could do until last night. Too scared to know the reason why he decided to become an ordained minister, “you never know when you might need it” was all he said. 

“Y/n,” Chris started, his hands shaking a little. “I can’t imagine my life without you, since you came barging into it 22 years ago. From the very first day of filming back in 2011, I knew you were it for me, even if I didn’t know it.” That caused everyone to laugh, “I love how you’re always there by my side, how you always tie my tie... Even if I know how to do it myself.” Y/n gasped shocked at his admission, laughing along with everyone. “At first it was a tactic to be near you, but the look of concentration you have every time, drives me crazy.” He laughed as she shook her head, beaming from ear to ear. “You make me the happiest man alive every day, even when you’re beating my ass at guitar hero. I love how passionate and impatient you are... Today being an example of that.” Everyone laughed again, he reached for her cheek and wiped the tears away with his thumb. “I can’t believe I get to call you my wife... I love you.”

Y/n was speechless, wiping away the tears that continued to fall, it was like he’d winded her with his words, her body tingled with excitement and love as the feeling of becoming Mrs Evans drew closer.

“Chris,” she started. “You are one of the most amazing, crazy talented, men I’ve ever known, I’m in constant awe of what you’re capable of... Seriously, it's annoying... I will make it my life mission to find something you’re not good at.” Chris’s loud laughter now echoed over your families laughs, his hand falling to his chest. “Your laugh, is my favourite sound of yours and if I could play it on repeat I would, but I’ll just settle for making you laugh with my terribly bad dad jokes-”

“Oh no!” Chris groaned at her statement, making everyone laugh again.

“Our love consumes me, I knew from the moment Lizzie told me you liked me that I had to have you, no matter what. Everyone constantly tells me how intense our love is, but it wasn’t until someone described it perfectly to me that I understood,” Y/n took the opportunity to side eye Scott, recalling the night they had a very drunken conversation about her relationship with Chris, making Scott laugh. “We’re so in sync with one another, you move, I move, we could be in a room filled with people, on opposite ends and we would still find each other without looking. Being with you,” she had to stop to compose herself, not wanting to cry during her vows. “Is like living a dream come true, especially during the simple times, no plans, no noise, just us doing nothing.”

Chris didn’t hide his tears as they freely fell, the sniffles from everyone, including Robert could be heard now.

After a few more words from Scott, once he calmed down, the cheers erupted as their lips connected, their first kiss as husband and wife. Chris pulling her flush against him, deepening the kiss. “I got you, Mrs Evans.” He whispered against her lips, making her giggle.  

The rest of the night was spent with their families, basking in the events of the day as they ended the night with the fire pit lit, gathered around it. Y/n was still in her dress and converse clad feet, her hair now tied up as she sat on the floor in between her husband's legs. 

She was currently admiring her wedding band, it was rose gold, slim and had diamonds wrapped around it, fitting perfectly against her engagement ring. reaching for the hand that rested on her shoulder, now playing with his wedding band, his band was thick, black and had a thin, rose gold strip around the centre. 

Chris had purchased them the day he bought the engagement ring and had hidden them in his sock drawer in his bedside, his hiding spots were getting better. 

“I’m so happy for you guys.” Robert softly whispered, puling his daughter into his arms holding her tightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re married!” 

“I know... I have to live with a boy!” She quipped back and Robert’s body started to vibrate with laughter, her cheek resting on his should as they continued to hug, not wanting to let go.

“My baby...” Now cupping her cheeks, giving his daughter one last look of pride before letting go. “You’ve always been my favourite child.” He whispered, Y/n knew he was joking but she laughed in agreement anyway. Out of her other three siblings they both shared a close relationship, Y/n was his saving grace when he was younger, having her at a young age bonded them. 

“Chris, I can’t believe you’re my son now... How weird.” Chris smiles broadly at the term son, instead of son-in-law, he knew Robert classed him as part of the family and not because he had to. "Welcome to the family, legally.. Let’s face it you’ve always been apart of this family.” Sharing a quick embrace before slipping past the newlyweds to speak to Lisa.

“Do you want to dance?” Chris bent down to whisper in his wife's ear, his hands finding her hips and back pressed against his chest, only to have her hum in response. 

Guiding her to an open spot in the garden, taking his hand in hers and spinning her so she was now facing him. His large hands resting on her hips whilst her hands snaked around his waist, the music that played from the speakers in the house guiding them. “You’re my wife,” stating softly, his lips finding her forehead.

“That’s right Evans,” the nickname now sounding futile with both being Evans’. “You’re stuck with me, no getting out this.” Her index finger was pointing between them before wrapping back around his neck. 

“Never.” 

It was nearing 2am when Chris and Y/n climbed the stairs to their bedroom, once the click of their door shutting was heard she reached behind trying to unzip her dress but struggled due to her tired state, contemplating just sleeping her dress.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her husband as he guided the zip down slowly, leaving slow, wet kisses on shoulder, using his callous fingers to brush the straps of her dress off her shoulders, the dress pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her panties.  

“My wife, you’re stunning.” He said lowly, the only light in the room was the light of the moon streaming through the windows. Y/n turned to face him, starting to unbutton his shirt which was now untucked, tie long gone and the top two buttons already undone, his collar bones and tattoos poking out through his shirt.  

Pushing the shirt off of him, she traced his tattoos with her fingers, a hiss of pleasure escaping from his throat, making him tighten the grip on her hips she didn’t know he had.  

The C necklace glistening in the moonlight.

That’s how they stood for a few minutes, their eyes never breaking from one another, her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands on her hips.  

Y/n guided her new husband to their bed, the back of his legs hitting the edge and he sat down closely followed by her straddling him. “Mr Evans,” her voice laced with arousal. “I do believe, you’re wearing one too many items of clothing.” She tsked, her finger trailing down his abdomen, his muscles twitching when she did, effortlessly flicking the button of his pants open.  

“That can be fixed... Mrs Evans.” He purred in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.  

[calummss]

Time | Gilbert Blythe

masterlist

summary: time can fix a lot of things if you let it

words: 1.5K

requested by: anon

It’s been six months since Gilbert Blythe left. Six months without the boy you love so dearly. Six months without your friend. Gilbert had made short notice plans only days after his father’s funeral. When John Blythe died it felt like a never ending fog swept across Avonlea. You remember Mr. Blythe from your childhood. He was a very kind man that took good care of you, so when the news of his passing had arrived at your parent’s house you felt a heavy pit in your stomach. You were saddened by his death and couldn’t imagine what Gilbert was going through and sent him a pie the same day, knowing he would have a hard time preparing food for himself. It has been months since you attended the funeral and you remember it like it was yesterday.

‘Y/N dear, make sure to wear your black straw hat.’ your mother called up to your room.

You grabbed your hat and gently placed it on your head not wanting to mess up your curls. You took one last look in your mirror and hurried downstairs to see your father, mother and younger brother waiting for you. You quickly grabbed your shoes and tied them up.

‘I sure hope Gilbert’s okay,’ you spoke into the room feeling uneasy about the next couple of hours.

‘You’ll be able to see for yourself once we arrive.’ your mother said, adjusting your hat. She placed her hands and your shoulder and smiled.

‘Come one now, the carriage is waiting.’ your father announced and opened the door to reveal a coat of snow that painted the countryside. You stomped through the snow and sat yourself to the far left of the carriage as your mother, father and brother followed. The coachman lightly whipped the horse and you were on your way. When you arrived at the Blythe’s family burial site you saw the carriage that pulled Mr. Blythe’s casket towards the hole. You also saw Gilbert leading the line of people. You saw the pain in his eyes. His sparkly brown eyes were now dull, and glossed with his salty tears. His cheerful smile with those dimples you so loved, disappeared and weren’t to be seen. His posture was slouched and his head hanging from his shoulders on a thread. Your family and you respectfully walked up to the crowd that was gathered for a prayer in honour of his father. You saw Anne, Diana, Ruby, Jane, Tillie and Josie, all spread out throughout the crowd. You locked eyes with Anne and gave her a warm quick smile before turning away. When the service was over everyone gathered at the Gilbert House for some tea and conversation. You stood next to your mother, plate in your hands but you weren’t in the mood to eat. You set it aside and walked around the house to look for Gilbert. He probably needed someone to talk to. Once you searched around the house and almost gave up, you saw him outside in the front yard. You grabbed your coat, scarf and hat and rushed down the front steps.

‘Gilbert!’ you yelled after him.

Gilbert turned around with a surprised face, yet his eyes still carried his sadness within.

‘Are you leaving?’ you pushed your hands deeper into your pockets.

‘I can’t stand being in that house. Everyone wants to comfort me but I just want to be left alone.’ he confessed.

His hat draped over his forehead making it hard to make out his facial expression.

‘Where are you going?’ you asked him as he didn’t seem to stop walking.

‘I don’t know, the lake perhaps.’

‘May I join?’

He nodded and continued to look straight ahead.

After some time you arrived at the small lake in the forest you always went to after school in the summer. Everyone would meet up to bathe in the sun kissed water but everyone was happy and enjoying themselves. Today’s occasion was the opposite. You sat on a tree trunk and pulled your gloves from your pockets. Gilbert sat next to you and stared at the frozen water. He found comfort among the empty woods. You felt like giving him alone time and told him that you were going back to the house. That was the last time you saw Gilbert. Days after he packed his things and left on a ship. He left a note with a few details so that Avonlea wouldn’t erupt in fear of a murder or some sort.

During the first three months you would leave letters at Gilbert’s house in case he came back unannounced; just like he left, but you stopped soon after, after you realised that he wouldn’t be coming back for a long time.

You were peacefully sleeping in your bed when a loud thud awoke you. Your eyes were squinted due to the sun rays shining on your face. You got out of bed and started to get ready. Anne would be arriving any minute now. You always walked to school together. It was safer and more fun. When you rushed out of the door you saw Anne waiting on your doorsteps with an extra bottle of milk. You walked to school and noticed a large crowd gathered in front of the doors. Noticing the rest of the girl you walked up to them to ask what was going on.

‘Ruby!’ you called out and saw her spin around with a big smile on her face. ‘What’s going on?’

‘It’s Gilbert!’ she cheered loudly.

Your eyes went wide as you stared back at Anne. She had the same look painted across her face.

‘What do you mean ‘Gilbert’?

‘My uncle who works at The White Sands Hotel said that Gilbert passed through the place. Supposedly he was working on a ship!’ Ruby’s face was gleaming with joy. ‘He was covered in coal ashes.’

‘Is, Is Gilbert here? At school?’ you asked intriguingly.

‘I haven’t been inside but I don’t believe so. He’s probably at home.’ Diana chimed in.

You had to see him. You just had to. Knowing he was back and not knowing if he’d part again you ran back towards the forest. You made your way through the foggy woods and ran up to Gilbert’s house. You went up to the door and knocked on the door like your life depended on it. A few seconds later a man, whom you’ve never seen before opened the door.

‘Hello, who are you.’ he said in a strong accent.

‘Is Gilbert here?’

‘Yes, he is.’ the man smiled at you before he shouted at the top of his lungs. ‘Gilbert! There’s a girl wanting to talk to you.’

‘I’ll just come in.’ you smiled before slipping through the door.

‘Y/N?’ Gilbert sounded surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘What are you doing here?’ mimicked him.

‘It’s good to see you.’

Gilbert seemed happier than the last time you saw him. His teary eyes were now filled with joy. He seemed...okay, and you didn’t want to take that away from him but he couldn’t just show up and pretend like nothing happened.

‘Why did you leave?’

Gilbert’s back stiffened and shifted onto his other leg. He looked down at the floor not making eye contact with you.

‘Can you at least look at me.’ a hint of disappointment and annoyance coating your words.

‘I needed to get away from here.’

‘You left without a goodbye and you left without telling anyone. Do you know what it feels like? To see your friend leave you behind?’ you raised your voice. ‘You could’ve at least told me. I didn’t know when you were coming back. I thought you left me!’

‘Y/N, I’m sorry but I wasn’t in a good headspace and needed distance from this god forsaken town.’ he stormed past you. The man that had answered the door was long gone. Only the presence of the two of you filled the cold house.

‘Distance from me?’

‘I never said that.’ his irritated voice erupted from the back of the pantry.

‘Sounds like it to me!’ you yelled back, angrily stomping after him.

‘Why are you picking a fight with me, Y/N.?’

‘A fight?’ you stared at him in disbelief. ‘Picking a fight with you? I came over because Ruby was swooning over your return and I came here to make sure it was true. To-see-if -my-friend-who-left-me-without-a-trace-of his-existence-came-back!’ you snapped in one breath.

You had enough and quite frankly didn’t know what to do anymore. The person you loved so dearly had hurt you in a way that you couldn’t understand. Gilbert sat down at his wooden table and stared at you for a few seconds before talking.

‘What can I do?’ he said.

‘What can you do? I don’t know, what can you?’

‘Y/N, I’m serious. I don’t want this friendship to end over this.’

‘You think I want this? I’m just upset that you left me if you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Please tell me what I can do.’ he pleaded out.

He stood up and took your hands into his. His brown eyes stared into your as your breath hitched.

‘I-I don’t know.’ you confess as you slid your hands out of his and turned your back towards him. ‘Nothing can fix this except time.’

You walked towards the door looking back at Gilbert once more.

‘Time can fix a lot of things if you let it.’

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime — Fourteen // Wanda Maximoff

chapter thirteen | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | epilogue

author’s note: the last chapter is finally here! i hope you like it 😊

There were many times when I'd get distracted by thoughts of Wanda.

I could be going for a walk and remember that time she tripped over the flat pavement, almost bringing me down with her. I could be shopping for stationary and remember that time she almost bought the whole shop in one visit. I could be sitting by the water fountain and remember that time she tried to make a wish, only to drop her whole purse in it.

This time, I'd just woken up to the sun streaming through my curtains. I rolled over to an empty bed, hand brushing against the cold sheets as they expected more. For some reason, my subconscious decided to taunt me with a memory taking place just after we'd first made love in her room...

"I love you so much," Wanda told me with an enchanting smile.

I turned to face her, one arm comfortable under the pillow as the other rested outside the duvet, covering my bare chest. She raised her hand, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear before resting her hand there. I smiled at the contact and felt a warmth spreading all over me at the affectionate gaze she sent my way.

"I know, love, you only said it several times," I teased lightly, making her chuckle. "I love you, too, though, in case you didn't know."

She sighed contently, eyes closing. I admired how beautiful she looked with her hair sprawled over her bare shoulders, smile on her lips and freckles dusting her skin. Her touch still ghosted my body, taste still embedded between my lips, scent still wavering in my nose. She was permanent and I was certain she'd never leave.

"We should probably get up in case somebody comes to check on us," she said, interrupting my moment of admiration.

Her eyes flickered open slowly, blue with golden flecks glistening right back at me. Suddenly, anything that happened after this didn't matter to me. For once, I appreciated where we were, what we had and nothing more or less. No wedding, no future... just now.

"We should," I agreed regretfully, though her leg moved closer to mine and made me wish we could stay here longer. "I wish we didn't have to."

She smiled halfheartedly, hand moving down my cheek, caressing the skin, before they rested at my chin. She outlined my lips with her thumb before leaning forward and stealing a kiss.

"Can't we have a few more minutes?" she asked, lips brushing mine as she spoke.

She was making it very hard to deny her and judging from the playful smirk on her lips, she knew that.

"I guess we can," I agreed quietly, making her smile with satisfaction.

She rolled on top of me, capturing my lips in a kiss as her bare chest pressed to mine and my hand found her waist for support. As usual, the effect she had on me was indescribable and I couldn't imagine us ever leaving the bed. I knew for sure that I'd never been happier than I was in that moment.

It was such a perfect moment, but it haunted me. Nothing felt right without her. She'd overwhelmed all of my senses and remained, even when I didn't have her by me in person. The wedding was literally in a few weeks, but I hadn't managed to get over her.

How could I be her maid of honour when I could barely speak to her? Not without wanting to curl in a ball and cry afterwards. Every thing I did seemed to be filled with memories of her. She was inescapable.

A groan left my lips as I dragged my hand down my face with frustration. I couldn't let her get to me yet again. I had an interview with the local paper today. The last thing I needed was Wanda as a distraction.

So, with that lovely thought lingering in my mind, I dragged myself out of bed to get ready for the day ahead.

—

Press interviews weren't something I was used to.

Whenever Y/B/N had them with journalists for his books, I wasn't present. The only thing I heard was when he came back and told me how it went, then I proceeded to read about it in the paper the next day.

I was sat in Steve's office at Maximoff Publishing with Steve sat by my side, sending me a supportive smile. A journalist from the local paper sat before us, notebook and pen in hand as he watched on with curious eyes.

"So, Y/N," he began. "I'll start with the obvious, if you don't mind."

I glanced at Steve who nodded encouragingly. Clearing my throat, I looked to the journalist. "Sure thing."

He smiled and glanced at his notebook before asking, "How does it feel to be published? You're Pietro Maximoff's first female author."

"An author who happens to be female," I corrected, hoping I didn't come off as rude. "And that isn't something that should be new, in my opinion. It should be normalised."

He nodded, noting it down in his notebook. "Controversy... I like it."

Swallowing hard, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"I think the readers would like to know how you managed to score a publisher," he began his next question. "How exactly did you get noticed amongst the many authors that look to be published?"

Okay, not so difficult, I could answer that.

"Well, it was actually my–" I paused, Wanda's face flashing to mind. Okay, maybe a little difficult.

"Your...?" the journalist prompted.

I blinked, attempting to find my words.

"Wanda," Steve answered, starting me off.

I looked to him with grateful eyes before looking back to the journalist. "Right. Yes. Wanda."

"Your brother's fiancé, right?" the journalist asked for clarification.

"Yes," I answered, with an accidental clipped tone. "She... she was the one who gave my work to her brother. Asked him to look at it. And the rest is history."

The journalist was making notes as I spoke, nodding and humming in response, before looking to me with raised brows.

"So, the wedding," he said, making me wince subtly. "Are you excited?"

Forcing a smile, I said, "Ecstatic."

"How does it feel to have your two families uniting?" he asked, and I chewed on my lips, unsure how to respond.

"I– er–"

"Are you afraid that Y/B/N marrying Wanda may put him in Pietro's good graces?" he interrupted eagerly, leaning forward in his seat.

I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn't know what to say that wouldn't land me in hot water or make me look like a jealous sibling. Glancing to Steve questioningly, he thankfully noticed my speechlessness and gave the journalist a warning stare.

"Can you stay on topic, please?" he asked the keen journalist. "Y/N is here to talk about her book and nothing more."

"Okay, okay," the journalist gave in, making me exhale slowly. "What's next in store for your readers, Y/N? A sequel, perhaps?"

"I'm not sure," I answered truthfully. "I'm still in awe at the reception from the first one."

He nodded, note taking as he listened. "How many books do you think you'll get out of your career before getting married like your brother?"

I raised my eyebrows with disbelief. But I didn't get to answer as he was already moving onto his next question.

"Are you not worried about getting married? You know, men don't like smart women."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I clenched my fists by my side and was very close to strangling him before we were interrupted. A servant whom I recognised from home knocked on the door and earned everyone's attention.

"Oh, tell him to go away," the journalist said dismissively, waving his hand.

Steve looked to me and I plastered a bitter smile on my lips as I glanced at the journalist.

"I'd let him in if I were you," I told Steve, and he seemed to understand that I was about to pummel the journalist if I wasn't distracted, because he nodded and motioned for the servant to enter.

The journalist sighed rudely and I clenched my jaw before looking to the servant with a quirked brow. He looked out of breath, panting for air and face flushed red.

"Did you run here?" I realised, cocking my head to the side with confusion.

He nodded, straightening up and attempting to catch his breath. "Yes, Miss Y/L/N. Very sorry to interrupt, but your mother insisted I hurry."

My eyes widened. "Oh, God, what happened? Is she okay?"

"Kind of," he answered, before clarifying, "The wedding between your brother and Miss Maximoff has been cancelled."

"What?!" everyone in the room asked at the same time.

What did he mean the wedding had been cancelled?! Wanda and Y/B/N weren't going to get married?

"I don't know the details," the servant got out quickly. "I just know that your mother sent me to fetch you as soon as possible. She's distraught and requires you home immediately."

I nodded instantly, already making a move to stand up, then I remembered where I was.

"You mustn't publish anything you just heard," I told the journalist with a stern finger, but he seemed over the moon at the news.

"Go, Y/N, your mother needs you," Steve said, resting a hand on my shoulder as he, too, stood up. He side-eyed the journalist as he added, "I'll take care of this tool."

At that, the journalist's eyes widened with fear and judging from the smirk on Steve's lips, I knew things would be okay.

"Thank you," I told him, hugging him quickly, before looking to the servant. "I'll go now. Thank you."

After giving the servant some money to grab a treat and calm him from his breathless state, I got a carriage home with my mind racing a million thoughts a minute.

Why was the wedding off? My mum was distraught, according to the servant, so that could only mean it hadn't been her choice. Was it Y/B/N? Had he broken it off? Or maybe it was Wanda? But no. She'd never do that. She wouldn't hurt her family like that.

I wasn't sure what it was, but I definitely didn't know how to feel. This could either be heavily in my favour or go against me in the worst way possible...

When I arrived home, I found my family in the dining room. My mum was sat down, upset and shaking her head in her hands, tear marks on her face. My dad was sat beside her, rubbing her back soothingly and whispering calming things to her as my brother stood to the side, looking apologetic and uncomfortable.

"It's okay, mum, it'll be okay," he was saying to her from across the table. "It's not a big deal. I can find somebody–"

"Hello...," I began awkwardly, standing in the doorway and hesitant to move forward. "I just got the news from our servant. What happened?"

"Oh, Y/N, you shouldn't have–" my father began regretfully, before my mum slammed her hand on the table and glared at my brother.

"Y/B/N broke off the engagement!" she shouted with frustration.

"There you go...," my dad mumbled before returning his attention to his wife.

"Mum, I–"

"You did what?!" I cut Y/B/N off with raised brows. "You broke off the engagement? You dumped Wanda?"

He looked to me with sad eyes. "Y/N–"

"You idiot!" I shouted, feeling angry as I imagined the effect this must have had on the Maximoff family. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you–?!"

He grabbed my waving arm and dragged me out of the dining room, making me shove him off when we reached the hall.

"Why the hell did you break it off?!" I yelled at him with a glare. "Why would you–"

"I didn't!" he whisper-shouted back, looking down at me with a downcast expression. "She did!"

My anger faded as I realised he was telling the truth. He looked genuinely hurt, eyes glassy and a frown on his lips. Wanda was the one to break it off? What?

"She broke it off with me," he elaborated quietly, so our parents couldn't hear. "She told me this morning. She said she didn't love me and that she couldn't marry me."

I swallowed hard, looking away from him momentarily. "Why did you tell mum and dad that it was you who broke up with her?"

He pinched his forehead with agitation. "Because it looks a lot less foolish if I say it was me rather than her. She doesn't love me, Y/N. She never did."

I risked looking at him, seeing his disheartened expression. Part of me felt guilty because I knew it was my fault this had happened, but I couldn't exactly say that to him, so I stayed quiet. He shook his head once more before walking away, leaving me standing there with shock.

"Er, Miss Y/L/N?"

I spun around when one of our servants approached me.

"I know now isn't the best time," she began, "but a letter came for you earlier. I left it on your desk as you were at work."

Nodding, I offered the servant a halfhearted smile before watching her leave. There was so much to unpack right now...

I headed upstairs and to my room to see what letter was here for me. But I was finding it hard to focus since all that was on my mind was the broken engagement and Y/B/N and Wanda... I needed to see her. What the hell was I doing here?

Planning on going to see Wanda as soon as possible, I grabbed the letter from my desk with the intention of reading it on the way out, but then I recognised the handwriting on the front and paused at my desk.

It was Wanda's handwriting.

I hurried to tear open the envelope, wondering what she had to say. It was no doubt related to the broken engagement.

Dearest Y/N,

I hope that you manage to read this letter before you hear the news, but knowing our families, you'll read it afterwards. In which case, you will know that I have broken off the engagement with Y/B/N.

It was the right thing to do. I chose to do it and I'm sorry if it's caused tension between your brother and your family, but I knew that I couldn't go forward with it when I'm in love with you. I'm not expecting you to come back to me and run away together all dramatically – this isn't about that.

I did this for myself. I'm not in love with your brother and I never was. He should have known that. He had to. Because if not, I'm afraid I broke his heart. And that's the last thing I wanted.

I also did this for you. I need you to know that I'm not heartless or horrible and I didn't expect you to sacrifice anything for me. Cheating on your brother with you... I never meant for this to happen, nor did I mean to get in the way of you both. Falling in love with you was completely accidental, but I don't regret it.

I don't want to go on too much, but I just needed you to know the truth, from me, that I am truly sorry for causing you such pain. I'm still in love with you and I'll never forget what we had. In another lifetime, maybe we could have worked. I'm certain that you were always perfect for me, as was what we had. You are magic, Y/N. I just wasn't powerful enough to keep you.

When I finished reading, I flipped the page over, expecting to find more, but it was blank. She'd ended it there and I didn't know what to think. My heart was racing, mind adjusting too slowly for my liking. She'd broke it off with him for me. I knew she loved me, but I guess I'd never realised just how much.

After recovering from my shock, I put the letter away and left for Wanda's, not bothering to tell my family where I was going. My dad was attempting to console my disappointed mother as Y/B/N moped around somewhere else, so I took that as my chance to nip out without them noticing.

I was trying to plan what to say to her – I didn't even know what I wanted to say to her. She said she didn't expect me to get back with her, and even without Y/B/N and their engagement in the way, we still couldn't be together. Not like how we wanted to be. But I wanted to. I wanted her. All this time without her had been heartbreaking – I didn't want to leave her again. I didn't know the specifics of how we would work, but we could work. We had to.

When I reached her house, it was her mother who opened the door. And that's when I realised that I wasn't sure if she blamed Y/B/N or her daughter for the engagement breaking apart.

"Iryna, hi," I greeted with a nervous smile. "I'm sorry if this is a bad time–"

"Y/N, I'm glad you're here," she cut me off, immediately pulling me in for a hug. "Thank you for coming."

I nodded with mild confusion, returning the hug, before pulling away.

"I'm so sorry for the pain Wanda has caused to your family," she said regretfully. "I hope that your parents aren't as distraught as we are."

I eyed her strangely, still not sure what Wanda had told her. Either way, I didn't bother questioning it as my urgency to see Wanda was overpowering my curiosity.

"It's okay, Iryna, there's no need to apologise," I reassured her. "My family will be okay... I just thought I'd come and check in on Wanda. It's a lot, what happened."

She nodded sympathetically. "Thank you, sweetheart. You're such a good friend to her." She stood to the side to let me in. "Go on up. She's in her room. Hasn't come out since this morning."

I offered a small, awkward smile Iryna's way before letting myself in and going upstairs to Wanda's room. My palms were sweaty and my mouth was dry – stupidly juxtaposed – when I stopped before Wanda's door. On the way over here, I still hadn't decided what to say. I figured it would just come to me when I saw her. One could hope.

Knocking on the door, I heard her sweet, accented voice give me permission to enter. My stomach flipped at the sound and I did as she said. Closing the door behind me, I turned and saw Wanda sat at a stool before a canvas.

Noticing I didn't say anything, she glanced over her shoulder casually, probably expecting a family member. She widened her eyes when she realised it was me and immediately stood up, smoothing out her paint-covered smock in an attempt to look neater. The simple action warmed my heart – she was adorable and I couldn't help but smile.

"Hi," I said quietly.

She cleared her throat, eyes darting around nervously. "Hey. I didn't– what are– hi."

I let my eyes wander, admiring her messy ponytail and the strokes of paint on her face that she definitely wasn't aware of. She was stunning, even with her confused eyes and pursed lips. Better yet, her hand was ring-free and I was reminded of the fact that she wasn't engaged anymore.

"I assume you're here because you read the letter," she began apologetically, but I didn't let her finish because the longer I was in her presence, the more I realised I wanted to kiss her.

Approaching her, I found her eyes before pressing my lips to hers. My hands cupped her cheeks as I held her close, revelling in her taste and scent and touch. She was quick to react, her fingers curling around my waist and tugging me towards her, squeezing our bodies together. Breathing became a problem and we regretfully had to pull away, but remained close enough to exchange breaths and swim in each other's eyes. I'd never been more relieved to see the colour green.

"You're not mad," she realised, looking between my eyes as if trying to search for some anger.

"How can I be mad that you broke off your engagement for me, knowing we can never be together in the way that you deserve?" I asked with disbelief.

She smiled beautifully, making my heart flutter in my chest. "You still love me."

I stole another kiss from her lips. "I never stopped, Wanda. Of course I still love you."

She rested her forehead to mine and closed her eyes peacefully. "Thank you for coming back."

I laughed, feeling tears brim my eyes. "I'm not leaving again, love. We'll find a way to make this work. I promise you that."

Wanda Maximoff deserved the world. And I was going to give it to her in this lifetime and beyond.