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ava-kedavra · 2 years

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part fourteen: reacquaint

Pairing: Ikaris x Reader

Summary: part fourteen of a fanfiction and they haven’t kissed yet? but don't worry folks shit is heating up in this one! after that we get a catch up, I'm always thinking about pizza and we find out some stuff y/n doesn't even know

Words: 2708

Warning: swearing, some nsfw shit 18+! What can I say I love the idea of face riding a tall good looking man that broods.

link to part thirteen

Ikaris closes the door by pushing you against it, and goes straight for your neck. He breathes in deep, inhaling your scent.

His left hand grips the back of your thigh, holding you in place, while his right hand inches up your hip, slowly pushing your shirt up. The feeling of his fingers on your skin makes you shiver in anticipation. You snake your arms around his neck, and grip his hair.

“You alright love?” His accent is thick, but it’s more muffled by your jaw he presses his lips against, making you look at the ceiling.

You nod, but he hums, “talk to me, Y/N.”

He moves his hand from your hip, and you go to protest, but he cups your cheek, “Y/N.”

You take a deep breath, “you feel good,” you say quietly, cheeks turning a bright red.

He gives you a grin, “you like how I touch you?” He asks you, and while his voice is soft, his words are not.

His words send a rush of electricity straight to your core. You manage to make eye contact, and you know he can tell how his words affect you.

“I do,” you finally answer, biting your lip, “you make me feel good.”

“Love,” he leans in towards you, breathing the word onto you, “I always wanna make you feel good.”

His accent is thick, and when you look into his eyes you notice they’ve darkened.

“Will you let me do that?” He pushes his hips harder against yours, keeping you in place as he reaches his other hand up to cup your cheek.

“Hm?” he nearly cooes before leaning over and kissing your cheek.

“I’ve missed you,” he continues speaking as he leans over and kisses the other cheek.

“So much,” he adds on, going to kiss your forehead.

You can’t take it. You move your head quickly to meet his lips with yours.

When your lips meet it feels like a circuit being completed. You feel the electricity move between the two of you warm and complete.

You pull away, opening your eyes to meet his own.

“Y/N,” he whispers, “please,” he’s begging, but he doesn’t know what for.

You don’t say anything, instead you smash your lips against his.

This time, he kisses you back fervently. You're grabbing his hair, his cheeks, his shoulders, anything to steady yourself.

He’s grabbing your hips, rocking against your core against the door, causing you to arch your back into him.

He pulls his lips away from yours, before attacking your neck.

His arms snake around your back and he’s suddenly carrying you across the room, setting you gently down on the bed.

“Ikaris,” you sigh out, “kiss me” you reach out for him, breathless.

He complies, falling against you as your lips meet again. He groans against your mouth when you buck your hips into him and you smirk. You’re about to do it again when there’s a knock at the door.

“Ignore it,” Ikaris pants in your mouth.

“Agreed,” you breathe out as you pull his hair, making him groan out. You take the chance to push him back onto the bed.

The knocking persists as you straddle him against the headboard.

“Ikaris! Y/N! Open the door!” The voice is muffled and indistinguishable as you rock your hips against Ikaris’ groin as you peck kisses along his neck.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, grabbing your hips to help you move. You grab at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it off of his body.

He lifts his arms up to help and when you sit back in his lap to look at him, you have to stop yourself from audibly moaning.

“Oh my god,” you mumble as you trace your finger along his collarbone.

He lets out a chuckle and places his hand over yours, moving it lower towards his v-line.

“Like what you see?” He whispers, accent somehow thicker with arousal.

“Yes,” you immediately reply, your brain more focused on the feel of his hard-on under your palm.

He presses his nose into your neck and you giggle. God you felt like a horny teenager.

The door bursts open before you can even process it. You yelp from the intrusion, pushing yourself closer into your husband, trying to shield yourself.

Bucky strolls in unfazed, gun in hand with Phastos and Bruce behind me, “control yourselves, they’re ready to talk.”

“What?” You turn your head, while trying to push Ikaris from your neck.

He doesn’t budge, but just mumbles ‘no’ into your skin. You rest your hands in his hair and try to control your breathing.

“Fitzsimmons are ready to talk,” Bruce informs, though uncomfortably from the doorway and looking at the ceiling.

“Great,” Ikaris replies, “now get the fuck out.”

You hit his chest, “Ikaris! We have to go.”

He raises his mouth to your ear, “not until I’ve had a taste of you,” he nips your earlobe.

Your face burns as you clear your throat, “everyone out we’ll be there in twenty.”

The door shuts quickly and you crash your lips into his again.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you pant against his mouth as he starts to unzip your pants above him.

You lift yourself off his lap so he can pull your pants and underwear down, and when you sit back down on his cock he can feel your juices soak through his pants to his boxers.

“Shit love,” he groans, bucking up into you, “I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Fuck me,” you pop his belt open and rip it off, before unzipping his pants.

You giggle trying to pull them off, but finally manage with his help. He finds the bottom of your shirt and pulls it off your body, groaning at your bare chest.

“Ikaris,” you pull on the band of his boxers, “please fuck me.”

He shakes his head, “we don’t have time,” before you can whine though, he’s kissing your lips, “don’t worry pretty girl, I’ll still make you feel good.”

He grips your hips and slides you up his chest as he lays farther down into the pillows. He lifts his head up and takes a nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck,” you moan out at the feeling of his toned abs on your clit, the friction making you dizzy.

Ikaris catches onto your hip rolls, and moves his hands along on your hips, helping you.

“That feel good?” His voice is quiet, but hoarse.

You nod, both hands on his chest as you rock against it.

“Here love,” he takes his mouth off you to move you further up towards his face.

Oh.

You audibly whine when he grabs your ass in both palms, lifting you over his face.

You sit up on your knees, hovering over him.

“Are you sure Ikaris? You don’t have to,” you run your fingers through his hair.

“Y/N,” he presses down on your thighs, making your knees fall.

Fuck.

“Ikaris,” you moan back as he languidly licks the inside of your thigh, licking the excess juices from your core.

“Sit on my face, pretty girl,” he says, kissing each side of your thigh, before zoning in on your core.

He presses a kiss to your clit that has you keening, putting your full weight onto your husband's head. He keeps you steady with one hand, as the other grips your thigh.

The noises coming from his mouth and your own are obscene. You’re both fully moaning out, you into the air, but his moans send a vibration right into the bottom of your stomach, making you even louder.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you start rocking your hips against his face as he helps guide you with one hand, the other going up to squeeze the under side of your breast.

“Fuck my face,” he mumbles into your core, flicking at your nipple. You barely hear him through the haze of pleasure, reaching down to grab harder at his scalp, your other hand steady against the wall.

You feel sparks throughout your body, sending zaps through your fingers and toes. You feel your high approaching, but just need a little more.

“Ikaris,” you’re just moaning at this point, barely able to rock your hips. He completely takes over your movement with one hand on your hip, the other reaching up towards your core.

He slides two fingers into your channel with no hesitation, and you can hear the slick noises as he moves them in and out.

“Oh fuck,” you throw your head back, “fuck I’m so close.”

You feel like magic.

“Fuck fuck shit,” you’re babbling at this point, but Ikaris keeps his speed up. His fingers hit right at your g-spot as he sucks on your clit.

You feel like electricity.

He rocks you harder down onto his face, and you’re so so close.

“Ikaris,” you’re barely breathing, “I’m gonna- gonna”

“Cum for me,” he speeds up his fingers and you see stars.

You feel waves of pleasure as you gush against his mouth, arching your back, “fuck Ikaris,” you cry out as you ride your high out.

He continues to ministrations on your pussy until you’re trying to move off of his face, he finally relents and lays you on your back.

“Ikaris,” you mumble out with a smile, “that was amazing.”

He pecks your lips, “I’m glad.”

You look down to see a large stain on his boxers. You look back up to his face to see his cheeks red.

“I uh-” he starts to say, but you cut him off with a kiss.

“That’s so hot,” you say into his mouth, running your hands on his hard chest.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he says into your mouth before pulling away.

He kisses your forehead, “we should get going.”

You groan oat, stretching your arms, “you’re probably right,” you look around the room, “where are my clothes?”

Ikaris gets up from the bed, opening a dresser drawer. He comes back to the bed with a fresh pair of underwear and black leggings.

You lift up the clothing, inspecting it, “are these mine?”

He nods, and you furrow your eyebrows.

“What is it?” He asks as you shrug the leggings on.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, still shirtless as you walk up to him, “I guess I was expecting something less modern.”

“I still have all our old clothes from the years together,” he’s casual, grabbing a shirt to put on.

You grab the shirt from him though, using your free hand to feel his chest.

“That’s sweet,” you say absentmindedly, tracing his sternum with the tip of your finger.

He breathes out, “yeah?”

You nod, “yeah,” before kissing him sweetly. Kissing him was addicting. His lips were soft, but firm against yours.

“You keep kissing me like that and we won’t leave this room,” he warns, sliding his hands up your bare back.

“Hm, sounds horrible,” you’re sarcastic as you press your chest against his.

“You’re eager,” his voice thickens as your nipples harden against him.

“So are you,” you smirk, giving him a quick peck before stepping away, “what are my shirt options?”

“Is it appropriate to bring snacks to an interrogation?” You question aloud from your spot in front of the fridge.

“I got blueberries from the farmers market,” Bruce chimes in, sitting at the counter with his laptop.

“We should be having dinner,” Bucky calls out from the dinner table, “I’m in the mood for pizza.”

“Wanda makes the best pizza,” you groan out in front of the fridge, spotting the blueberries, “the sauce is to die for.”

“Sokovian sauce is better,” Bruce agrees and you nod.

You shut the fridge with your hip, blueberries in hand, and turn to Ikaris, “want a snack?” He smirks, “no, I already had one,” he kisses your cheek.

“Yeah that tired me out,” you admit, and he hangs his arm over your shoulder, so you lean into him.

“Hopefully not too tired,” he murmurs into your neck, “I’m not done with you.”

You give him a quick kiss, and smile, “good.”

After talking with Sam and Bucky, you decided that only a few people would be in the interrogation room.

That would include you, Sam, Bucky, Ikaris, Phastos and Bruce.

It was times like these that you missed Natasha. She was the best at this kind of thing. She could get the worst kind of people to talk in five minutes.

“Hey Natty,” you sigh, looking down, “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

You sit down on the ground in front of the royal azaleas, “turns out I’m not who I thought I was.”

“Now I don’t know who I am,” you admit to the plant, “I don’t know if I really ever knew.”

“I’m married,” you state bluntly, “and I can fly and fighting aliens isn’t as big of a deal as we thought it was.”

You feel the flower between your fingers gently. “Fitzsimmons betrayed me,” you continue, “Morgan started kindergarten and Bucky has a cat.”

“We knew going back in time had its risks,” you take a deep breath, “I just didn’t think I’d lose you when I did.”

You sniffle, “and I know I can take comfort in the fact that you’re at rest,” you take a deep breath, “I just really miss you.”

You pause.

“Natasha,” you start, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to trust,” you continue, “and I certainly don’t know what’s next.”

“I guess what I’m saying is that I wish you were here,” you say, “because you’d know what to do. You always knew what to do.”

“Even when it came down to life or death,” you say quietly, “you knew what to do.”

“And even if I do know what to do,” you let out a shaky breath, “what if I’m not strong enough?”

“You’re the strongest person I know,” you say, “or you were.”

You sniffle.

“Give me strength Nat,” you whisper, placing your hands on the ground to lift yourself up, “I really need it.”

You make your way back into the interrogation room and take a seat between Ikaris and Sam.

“Hey,” you clear your throat, giving Ikaris a small smile.

“Hi love,” he greets, leaning back in his chair.

Bucky walks in soon after carrying a drink.

He sets it on the table, and notices Ikaris’ stare.

You’re staring at your fingers in your lap, picking at them so he’s not subtle.

Ikaris nods towards the hall.

Bucky takes the cue, leaving the room.

Ikaris moves to leave too, but your hand on his shoulder stops him, “where are you going?” You ask, still sitting in the chair.

“I’ll be right back,” he kisses your forehead on instinct, “just gotta use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” you smile, turning to talk to Sam next to you.

Ikaris steps out and nods at Bucky.

“How’d you get them to talk?” He cuts to the chase, crossing his arms.

“You won’t tell her?” Bucky asks.

Ikaris shakes his head.

“I showed them the footage of Y/N in the lab,” he answers.

“Pretending to interrogate them?” Ikaris asks and Bucky nods.

“She was doing it for about five minutes before you walked in,” Bucky adds on.

“It’s a good idea,” Ikaris responds, “thank you.”

“I’d do anything for Y/N,” Bucky tells him, “she’s my sister.”

Ikaris nods, understanding the relationship between the two of you.

“Thank you,” he says again before making his way back into the conference room.

“Take the lead,” Sam offers you, “I’ll be there to keep you on track.”

“Sounds good,” you respond.

“Bucky will be back with them soon,” Sam tells you, “and then we can start.”

Ikaris takes a seat next to you, and you shoot him a smile.

“How are you feeling?” He asks gently in your ear.

“A bit nervous,” you whisper to him.

He places his hand on the back of your neck for comfort, messaging it softly.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning in for a kiss. He guides your head with his hand, taking your lips in his. He kisses you deeply before pulling away, leaving you breathless.

“Of course love,” he responds before the door opens.

THEY FINALLY FUCKING KISSED!!!

yes!!! I'm updating woohoo!

I'm sorry I take so long lol much love!

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yourloverfromthepast · 1 year

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*Y/n and Richard Madden watching the world championships*

Y/n: Nah man, to be honest I'd rather see England win over France

Richard: What? Really? Why?

Y/n: First of all, as an Italian, I hate France

Richard: Mh, fair enough

Y/n: Plus, I know they're still waiting...

Richard, turning towards you confused: Waiting?

Y/n, looking at the screen: Yeah, after all *smirks* last year it still came Rome

Richard: *aggressively gasps* YOU DID NOT

Y/n: YES I DID!

#sorry not sorry #don't hate me #You british friends #i love you all<3 #Richard madden x y/n #Richard madden x yn #Richard madden #Richard madden incorrect quotes #Incorrect Richard madden quotes #Italy #Italian reader #Richard madden x Italian reader #It still came Rome #Tho #😏#Richard madden imagines #Yn incorrect quotes #Y/n incorrect quotes

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luvinescent · 6 months

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Entangled Fates

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The Targaryen name has brought nothing but misery to Y/N— her half-blood placing a curse upon her. She's observed the toll her presence takes on the people she loves; no longer wanting to form a close tie with anyone. Nevertheless, her heart steered its own course. And it steered towards a certain man.

Warnings: angst. allusion to r*pe and death, nothing descriptive. a steamy make-out scene but nothing crazy. not really book or show accurate but f it we ball. also fluff. also reader has dark hair so just pretend u do if u don't xoxo.

Word count: 10.1K (beginning just has lots of background lore pls bear w/ me)

In life, there are those destined for lavish living and those made to struggle to see their next day. From a young age, Dorea knew she fell into the second category. She grew up orphaned; never knowing the love of a mother or a father. Despite the fact, Dorea was strong willed; she found her own kind of love. Love for herself, love for her friends, and love for her life. She knows that she did not have the best life; her dresses had holes in them, she had to work from dawn to dusk, and she often would need to go days without eating. That ultimately changed the day a close friend of hers had come to her with a new line of work.

“One of the castles maids was executed, so her position is open to take”.

Looking back, she should’ve said no from the way a chill went up her spine. She had heard the rumors of the king having gone mad; but at the time, that was not her problem. Being a castle maid sounded a lot better than being a candle maker. All she had to do was clean the chambers and mind her business and pay would be given to her. The task sounded easy— it should’ve been easy. Dorea had ways of not drawing attention to herself. That is how she has made it this far in her life; from hiding. The peace of obscurity brought her comfort; being anonymous was a safe refuge that protected her from prying eyes and the entanglements of wicked connections. The girl was pure and innocent.

Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans.

She truly had done all she could to stay out of the eyes of the royal family. She should’ve been more careful, more attentive, more aware of the eyes that followed her unknowingly when she walked the halls. Her foolishness had caught up to her one day when a guard had dragged her to the throne room; thrown to the ground to kneel in front of the king, Aerys II Targaryen. Dorea was ready to open her mouth and beg for forgiveness on whatever crimes she had committed but was silenced in fear. “You will meet me in my chambers tonight”, he said. Dorea could do nothing but nod as she could not go against the kings’ words. The only thing she could do was look to the Hand of the King for some form of help, but they stood muted. Moments later, she was whisked away by some female servants— some of them her own friends— and was prepared for the event. She was washed and dressed properly; never have been so physically clean yet so dirty internally.

Later that night, her virtue and gaiety of life was destroyed when the king came and took her. She had prayed to the Gods that it was only a one-time thing. But the Gods seemed to find her plea a joke. The king would request her presence many more times and many more nights afterwards. Her position as a maid in the castle vanished overnight. Now, she stood as something different; still, she did not know exactly what. All Dorea knew was she felt shame as those working in the castle started to treat her different, with more respect and caution. She dreamt every night for this nightmare to end, but it only continued.

“The girl is pregnant, your grace”. The maestar told the king. Both fear and relief spread through her body. Fear in the sense that the king would have her eliminated to hide such sin, and relief that he might just send her away forever. It had to be one or the other; from what she has seen, the queen is currently pregnant as well and due in a few moons. Furthermore, he already had two children born, why would he need her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the third alternative she had feared the most, “You will continue to stay here. You will have the child”. Later that night, Dorea prayed once more for all this suffering to end. Finally, her prayer had been answered in the worst way possible.

She had heard the talks of the rebellion, but she never thought it would come to where she resigned. The king’s heir was now dead, along with his wife and children. The queen was now dead; dying from childbirth. The middle child and newest member of the royal family had been sent to exile. And the Mad King was now dead as well; stabbed by a member of his own Kingsguard.

Death and misery surrounded Dorea everywhere.

For her own safety, and her chance once again at freedom, she did what she knew she had to do. She ran away.

Dorea took refuge in a small village that resided in the Reach. Selling all the gifts and jewelry the king had bestowed upon her; she and her unborn child were set for life. A few moons later, Dorea gave birth during a warm summer night. As she held the newborn in her arms, she thought the Gods had finally decided to take pity on her and grant her some kindness. For starters, she had given birth to a girl. Dorea was thankful in the sense that the child would not be seen as a threat to the line of succession of the Iron throne. Additionally, the babe had no features of a Targaryen. Caressing the small amount of hair on her daughter’s hair, she was given hair as dark as night instead of the silvery-gold feature of her biological father. Dorea let out a sigh of relief once the girl opened her eyes— no violet eyes either. Pulling the babe closer to her chest, she gave a quick prayer and smiled down at the sleeping babe.

Dorea named her Y/N.

As time passed, Y/N quickly grew before her mothers’ eyes. Both her and her mother were beloved by the village folks— Dorea giving money to those who were in need, and her daughter who was tenderhearted and befriended all. No one in the village had known about Doreas’ past or Y/N true linage. And Dorea wanted to keep it that way. She, however, knew that one day it would all come back to bite her. Despite having run away, she knew that there were some people who knew of their existence. It did not help her case more when Y/N had begun to show a great fascination with fire; something the mothers of the village made jokes about, but Dorea knew the truth.

“You have dragon blood within you”, Dorea had whispered to her daughter one quiet night. “You are part Targaryen, but you must keep this a secret. I am only telling you this for your own safety. There are people in this world who will want to hurt you, to take you away from me. Do you understand darling?”. At just the age of eight, Y/N was smarter and brighter than her peers. Hearing such solemness in her mothers’ voice, she nodded, “Yes mother”.

Such a topic was dropped and never brought up again— that was until Y/N turned ten. Since Dorea had the funds, she had hired a tutor for the young girl. Y/N’s instructor was a retired tutor who had taught many kids from noble homes before moving to their village. The old man was just supposed to teach her simple things like language, arts, music, and maths. Without her mothers’ knowledge, Y/N brought up the topic of history to her teacher, particularly the history of the Targaryen household. And that’s where everything started.

It was one calm afternoon in their shared bedroom when Y/N had asked the question. “Mother, am I cursed?”. Dorea, puzzled, stopped brushing her daughter’s hair and turned towards her, “What kind of question is that?”. Y/N looked sheepishly to the side and confessed everything, “I have been learning history with my tutor. Targaryen history”. Before Dorea could respond, the young girl continued, “You say I am half Targaryen, and based upon their history, I must be cursed”. Dorea questioned what she meant and then let out a loud laugh at her daughters’ answer: “I have black hair mother”.

Dorea caressed her daughters face, smiling and shaking her head, “Darling, your hair color does not mean anyth- “.

“But its true mother!” Y/N exclaimed, “It is shown all over their history. Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest sons were born with dark hair, and they all died before they could reach adulthood. Rhaenys Targaryen was known as the “Queen Who Never Was” and saw the death of her two children in her lifetime. Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter was killed in the sack of Kings Landing. Valarr Targaryen was- “.

“What does any of that have to do with you?!”, Dorea shouted out, startling Y/N. The young girl felt tears come to her eyes as she hid herself in her mothers’ embrace, muffling her words, “They were not pure Targaryen. I am not a pure Targaryen, mother. I do not wish to fall to such misfortunes”. Dorea felt her heart break at the sound and thoughts of her daughters’ troubles. Shaking her head, Dorea raised Y/Ns’ head and looked straight into her eyes, “You are not cursed. Their misfortunes are not yours. Do you hear me girl? This is your life, and you control it”. Y/N could do nothing but continue to cry. "It's okay, sweetheart," her mother whispered, her voice a tender melody that carried reassurance. Dorea cradled the young girl, whose sobs softened but still lingered, the remnants of a storm that had raged within her fragile heart. “I will protect you no matter what”, she declared.

Y/N would forever remember that loving moment, amongst the many others she shared with her mother. While Dorea had said she would do anything to protect her, Y/N should’ve said the same thing back. Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans for the daughter. Not even a month later, Y/Ns’ mother died, succumbing to a mysterious illness that took her in a matter of days. It felt as though the moment she acknowledged the said “curse”, her world only came to be filled with hurt.

Being only ten years old and now orphaned, the people in the village were kind enough to take the girl in. Specifically, it was a family of three that consisted of a father and mother and a son her age who took her into their home. The boy, named Tomas, had always been a close friend of Y/N. The two would spend many days together, playing and running around in the meadows. He would pick flowers for her and in return she would do the same. There was even one early morning when the two stood by their village’s lake and shared a kiss with each other. Despite still being a child, Y/N felt as though she was feeling the love that was described in the fairytale stories her mother used to read to her.

Sadly, that love was taken from her as well. At the young age of one and three, Tomas had somehow fallen and drowned in that same lake. Y/N had never heard such a devasting scream as Edith, Tomas’s mother, held her dead son in her arms. The village was both in mourning and in query; Tomas had been taught to swim at the age of four, how could this have happened? No explanations were thought of, but Y/N had her own belief.

I’m cursed, she would toss in turn in her bed at night, I am cursed.

Two more years would pass by, and no other unfortunate incidents would have occurred. But there is always calm before the storm. One day, something within Y/N had made her go explore the small forest that was near her village. It was nothing out of the ordinary; she had done it many times before. Yet, she stayed exploring for hours before that same voice within her told her to return. Upon seeing her village within the distance, Y/N should’ve never listened to that voice. She wishes she could’ve stayed back and continue being ignorant of everything. Her village— the homes, the crops, the trees, everything, was up in flames. Running down the dirt paths, Y/N did not have time (nor did she want to) to acknowledge all slaughtered men, women, and children that laid on the grounds. A small amount of hope had sparked within her when she saw that her home was not ablaze. That hope died upon entering the residence— Y/N crying out in distress at the sight of Edith, the women she had come to see as her second mother, dead on the ground. Her sadness was turned to fear when she spotted a large man in the corner, angry and hungry for blood. Before the crazed man could run at her, he was tackled to the ground by Lance— Edith’s husband and her adopted father. He was clearly injured; covered in blood from head to toe but still had the strength in him to scream at Y/N, desperation laced in his voice, “Run girl! Run and do not look back!”. Y/N, not wanting to witness his clear end, quickly listened to his order and ran out the door, trying her best to stay out of sight of all the other savage men as she made her way out the village.

She must’ve ran for hours before she knew she was no longer in danger. A day or two of traveling passed by before she took residence in a small city. That same night, under a dirty bridge, she finally acknowledged all hell that had occurred to her within the past forty-eight hours. The dams broke as she cried and screamed out in sorrow and pain. She cried, and cried, and cried until she had no more tears to let out; now consumed by numbness. Her mother, her first love, her caretakers, her childhood friends, her home; had all been taken from her. What had she done to deserve this? With her heart broken into millions of pieces, Y/N decided that she wouldn’t live like this. Never would she fall in love and never would she form a deep connection with anyone again. She wasn’t going to let herself be tied to the Targaryen name, to its blood, nor its curse. She wasn’t going to let this curse win and see her suffer again.

And so, she did; well, she tried her best at least. With the little money she had on her, Y/N jumped from village to village, city to city, and made sure not to socialize with anyone. There were some instances of people trying to get to know her, boys trying to court her, but she wouldn’t stay very long and would be gone the next day. It was a lonely life, a life she despised but knew she had to endure. That changed a bit when she came face to face with a woman with a fair complexion and silver hair.

Daenerys Targaryen. The “Mother of Dragons”. Her older half-sister.

Daenerys had always known about her half-sister’s existence; her older brother one day rambling that the throne belongs to a true Targaryen and not the current usurper, nor the “Targaryen-bastard filth” their father left behind. At first, Y/N was wary of the girl but soon found herself becoming fond of her presence. Daenerys felt the same way; with no family left on either girl’s end, they quickly found solace in each other— treating one another as the sisters they are. It was strange at first for Y/N; getting used to now having family once again and the companionship of dragons that came with it. Initially, she was terrified at the sight of the foreign creatures but quickly came to love them and their beautiful nature. She became quite close with the one called Rhaegal, favoring the dragon over the overs. Rhaegal doted and protected the girl the same; but still recognized Daenerys as its’ rightful mother. Y/N could say she just held the title of “favorite aunt” now amongst the creatures.

The thought of the curse still weighed heavy in the back of her mind, but Y/N hypothesized that whatever superstition was out to get her would not harm her sister; a true (and last) Targaryen. Y/N immediately recognized Daenerys as her queen and vowed to help her reclaim her throne. For some time, Y/N felt happiness once again entering her life as she spent more time with her sister and her allies. That bliss, however, turned out to be false hope.

“When the time comes and I reclaim my throne, I will legitimize you as a Targaryen”, Daenerys spoke to her one night. Y/N wanted to decline right away; she was content with not having a household name and did not want to be associated with the Targaryen name. Before Y/N could speak, Daenerys looked shamefully down while holding her sister’s hand, “There is a reason why I came looking for...”. Y/N felt a chill run up her spine and quickly encouraged the Mother of Dragons to continue. “I am unable to have my own children. When the time is right, I will need you to find a man, any man of your choosing..”, Daenerys sternly said as she looked into Y/N eyes, “I will need an heir to inherit the throne and continue my family name. Do you understand sister?”. Daenerys felt guilt creep up inside her as she finally confessed her true intentions from the start of meeting Y/N. She was asking too much of Y/N but, she, however, was on a mission to reclaim her birthright no matter what. Y/N stared agape at her, no words coming from her mouth. She wanted to decline even more— but, looking into Daenerys eyes, she saw the graveness within them and the true tone behind her words. She was not asking this of her as her sister. She was commanding this of her as her queen. And Y/N would do anything for her rightful queen.

“Yes, sister. I understand”. Y/N now found herself tied to the Targaryen name. Something she vowed never to be but couldn’t escape.

As time passed by, Y/N kept her promise and stood by Daenerys side as she continued her conquest; now finding herself at Dragonstone, her sister’s ancestral home. The preparations and campaign for Daenerys claim to the Iron Throne was in full effect but was interrupted momentarily.

“The King in the North?”, Daenerys questioned one of her advisors who came bearing news. “Yes my Queen. He sent a raven— detailing that he wishes to speak with you”. Y/N, standing off to the side, expressed her thoughts and question, “I had heard that the King in the North was dead”.

“As did I”, Daenerys said sharply. The man before them nodded his head, “Yes. There was an incident that had occurred that made everyone believe he was dead. But he is very much alive”. Daenerys raised her eyebrows up, skeptical about this so called “King in the North”— “And he trusts me with the information of his false death?”

“Well, according to his letter, yes.”

Y/N and Daenerys turned, staring into each other’s eyes, speaking with them. Not much emotion was shown behind Y/N eyes, but she was able to express with them, “What harm is there in seeing what he wants”. Sighing, Daenerys nodded her head and agreed with her sister.

“Send a message back. Invite him here and let him know I agree to speak with him”.

A few days later, Y/N stood on the shores, waiting to welcome her guests on the request of Daenerys. Once she saw the boats pull up on the beach, she made her way but stopped in amazement. Out from one of the boats came a large, thick furred animal— a dire wolf. She had only ever heard about the mythical creatures and now she was in close distance with one. Dragons and now dire wolves; she held a small smile on her face at the uniqueness that was the world. Clearing their throats, the two guards behind her had snapped her out of her daydream, reminding her of the task. Standing tall, Y/N put on her best welcoming smile and stood in front of the party, “Welcome to Dragonstone. I have been sent by our rightful Queen to give our greetings”.

Y/N voice had started loud and clear, but slightly quieted down towards the end as she made eye contact with a man. A very handsome man to be exact, she thought to herself. He stood tall and strong, a lean build with dark curls and blue eyes as blue as the water behind them. He smiled at her and before he could open his mouth, the older man next to him spoke up. “I present Robb Stark. Heir to the Stark household and King of the North”. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the discovery of the handsome stranger being the King in the North. Turning to him, she held a sort of mischief but harsh attitude in her voice, “Is the King in the North unable to speak for himself?”

The men in front of her were clearly taken back. Except for Robb Stark who let out a small laugh. “Forgive me, my lady, I am very capable of speaking. I am Robb Stark”. He held out his hand and was charmed when she firmly grasped it and shook it; opting out of giving her his hand to kiss.

“I am not a lady. Please, call me Y/N”. Robb was preparing himself to compliment her name but was cut off by the same man next to him. “She’s the Targaryen bastard, your grace”. Though it was meant to be a whisper for only Robb to hear, Y/N was in close enough proximity to have heard it as well. Robb swiftly turned to his advisor next to him, giving him a crude look before turning back to the girl, “Forgive the rudeness of- “

“No, it is quite alright” she waved her hand, “It is all true anyway. I am THAT Targaryen bastard”. Robb nodded, gulping as he tried to ease the tension, “I have heard a lot about you...and your sister too, of course”. Y/N wanted to let out a chuckle at the sight before her; a gorgeous man trying his best not to insult her. “And I have heard very little about you,” Y/N voiced, “Other than the fact that you were supposedly dead, which I can see you are very much alive”, looking him up and down with her eyes. Robb smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “It is a long story”. Y/N let out a “hmm” sound, looking off towards the side to the dire wolf. “Is he yours?”

“Yes. His name is Grey Wind. I’ve had him since he was a pup”. Y/N nodded once more, noticing just how well behaved the wolf was, “He’s very beautiful”. Robb thanked her for the compliment, grinning widely, “I can see you are fond of animals. Do you have any of your own?”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head, “No. I have children.”

Robb was clearly taken back by her words, a stuttering mess as he questioned her statement. “O-oh? You have children?”. Y/N could sense some disappointment in his voice towards the end as it cracked. Smiling, she shook her head. “No. But I do consider them children. Just not mine. I am just an aunt”. All the guests in front of her were puzzled by her words but ducked down in fear at the sound of a roar from above. Looking up, she smiled at the sight of Rhaegal and Drogon patrolling the skies.

“Seven hells!” she heard one of Robbs’ men yell out. Turning back, she playfully spoke “My children. Beautiful, aren’t they?”. None of Robbs’ men were able to agree or speak; still in shock. Robb, still looking up to the sky, laughed earnestly, “Well, they sure are an eccentric sight to see”. Y/N smiled more at his honesty, clapping her hands together, turning and speaking to the entire party, “Well. I believe that is a sufficient way to welcome you all here. Now, I must welcome you into the castle. Please come, the Queen is curious to known what it is you wish to speak about”.

Upon greeting the Queen, Robb Starks’ words and terms were clear to her. He wishes to ally with her in her conquest to take the throne and create a fairer and just realm. “We both have a clear enemy,” he spoke, “I want the Lannisters dead for what they have done to my family, and you want them off the throne entirely”. Every so often, Robb would cast his eyes off to the side to look at Y/N; something she tried her best to hide her reddening face from. “My men, though small numbers, will be yours to use. We ask that in return, once you take your rule, you allow the North to maintain a degree of self-rule. We will recognize you as the rightful Queen, but we wish to keep the North the way it is”. Daenerys nodded her head, asking her advisors for their views on the matter, and taking Y/N by surprise when she asked her as well. “As I perceive it, the North is biggest land piece in Westeros. It would be better to keep them as allies instead of fighting them off. They recognize you as Queen, and the Stark household keeps the North in check for you, sister”. Daenerys responded with another nod, showing to be clear in thought at all the opinions given to her. The Queen stood up, still not fully convinced, but could not deny all the positives of the compromise, “Very well. I will continue to think about the matter. I will let you know that my thoughts are leaning more toward yes than it is no. For now, your men must be tired. Allow my people to escort them to rest”.

Later that night, Y/N made her way down the dark halls to the one place in the castle that brought her peace. She almost let out a small scream at the tall shadow that appeared around the corner, “My lady?”. Placing her hand to her chest to control her tachycardic heart, she saw that the dark shadow was Robb Stark. “Your grace. You almost scared me to death”, Y/N laughed, “And please, I am not a lady of noble birth. Call me by my first name”. Robb returned her laugh with his own, apologizing for scaring her. “Forgive me, my lad- Y/N. I was just curious as to why you are out so late”. She nodded her head in the direction she was originally heading in, “I can not sleep so I was heading to the library to bore myself with some reading” she joked, “Is it not late for you to be awake as well?”. Robb gave a similar answer; unable to sleep and practically full of energy. Y/N looked down at the ground for a mere second before glancing into his eyes, “Would you like to join me?”. He agreed to her invite, thankful for the darkness of the night hiding his blushed face.

Dimly lit by flickering candlelight, the shelves towered, laid with books that held centuries of knowledge and wisdom. Robb made himself comfortable at one of the chairs available while Y/N opted for the window nook. “Do you come in here often?” Robb asked. Y/n offered a silent yes, trailing her fingers against the rim of the book she had chosen, “I have not been here that long, but yes. I come here every night; I tend to have trouble sleeping”.

“Why is that?” Robb questioned.

“Nightmares”, Y/N replied. Her dreams were always filled with visions of her dead loved ones.

After a pause, Robb gave a “hmm”; silently admiring the girl for not being afraid to show vulnerability. “That’s something we both have in common” he gave a warm smile. Another quiet pause passed by until Y/N looked up at him, “You say that you being alive is a long story— can I listen to it?”. Robb gave a slight nod, standing up to sit next to her in a close but comfortable proximity.

“I was to marry the daughter of someone who I thought was my ally. I agreed initially but something within me told me not to carry out my word”. He slowly reached over for the book that was in her hands, both hands brushing slightly as he took it out of her grasp, now distracting himself with it. “The wedding still went on; I supplied another man in my place. But, there was bloodshed, and I was betrayed. I barely made it out alive, along with a few other men of mine”. Inhaling sharply, he continued with his outpour, “And I’m thankful I did. I have sources that tell me that even if I went along with the wedding, I was to be killed no matter what. The Lannisters long ago forming allies with the people I thought I could trust”. Coming close to a finish, he looked into Y/N eyes, softly smiling, “I guess it was fate that saved me somehow”.

Breaking eye contact, Y/N scoffed at his words. “Fate” she said with repugnance. Her reply caught him off guard, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “You do not believe in fate?”.

Y/N took in a long sigh, shaking her head, “No I believe in it”, she gently whispered the last part, “We just never have seen eye to eye. My fate only brings me bad luck”. Robb took in her words, trying to calculate what he should say next. “I believe fate can bring both good and bad luck”, he began with, “One can say it was my fathers’ fate to have been killed, or my sisters’ fates to be held captive”, Robb swallowed thickly before continuing, “But, it is my fate to avenge and save them. It is fate that has brought me this far; that has brought me here and to you”, he slowly spoke while staring deep into Y/N eyes. She quickly looked away, hoping her face wasn’t red and was successful in controlling her facial expression. Clearing her throat, she spoke firmly, “You must be confused; I believe you are trying to woo the wrong sister, Stark. Is it not my sister who you need as your ally?”.

Robb let out a low laugh, grinning widely, “That may be true, but”, he slowly scanned the room in a playful manner, “I believe that I don’t see your sister in here at all. So, no, I am not confused. I am speaking to the right sister”. A third pause passed by as the two continued staring, wating for one of them to speak or do something. Y/N was the first— standing abruptly, she moved her hair behind her ear and let out an awkward ahem. “I believe I must retire for the night. It was nice speaking to you Stark”. Before she could make her way out the door, he called out to her.

“It’s Robb”. Turning, she questioned what he meant. Smiling, he spoke, “You can call me Robb. You say you come here every night?”. Y/N nodded her head. “Would you allow me to see you here again tomorrow? Or even spend some time with you come morning?”.

Y/N wanted to say no. She needed to stop whatever friendship (or relationship) was forming between the two before she got too close. Before her curse got to him. He had already suffered enough. Despite the fact, deep down, her own selfish desires won over. She hadn’t felt like this in forever— she wanted this feeling to last forever.

“Yes. Of course, Robb”.

Come morning, they spent the entire day together, including the night. The next day was the same. Daenerys had granted Robb and his men a longer stay as there was much to discuss. It was late in the morning that he and Y/N were walking along the shores, discussing the most random of topics. Both were making a great effort to make the other one laugh: sprouting different jokes and funny stories. They both loved hearing the sound of laughter coming out of each another’s mouths. A gentle breeze roamed the air, blowing through Y/Ns’ dark hair. Robb stood silently still, stuck in a daze and awestruck by her appearance. Swiftly, he removed his fur cloak and placed it upon her exposed shoulders. Robb gestured to the area around them as Y/N looked at him in confusion, “I thought you might be cold”. She let out a small chuckle, shaking her head but not returning his cloak back. It provided her with a sense of ease. “No,” she confessed, “I don’t run cold that easily”. Resuming their walk, Robb gave her a look of admiration, “You would do great in the North then. Have you ever been there?”.

She answered with a clear no, stopping in her path to match Robb’s sudden cease of movement. Slowly, he placed his hands upon the cloak, further wrapping it securely around her. “I believe you would love it there. Maybe one day, you can come with me to Winterfell. I would love to give you a tour and introduce you to my mother, and hopefully my sisters too. I’m sure they would love you”. No further sounds were made; the distant sound of crashing waves serving as the only soundtrack to their wordless communion. Y/N leaned slightly into him — his closeness felt like a forbidden sanctuary, a place where she found solace and belonging but knew she shouldn’t enter. Y/N only response was a gentle nod and smile.

Many heart-fluttering moments continued to happen between the two. Stolen glances from across the table, hands brushing as they took their walks, laughter and smiles shared in the dark of night. There was an occurrence in the library when Robb had urged the girl to go to bed; taking notice of her eyebags forming from their long night of talking. “I can’t go to sleep that easily. And even if I can, I just have bad dreams I can’t wake up from”, she disclosed. They sat intimately close, sharing an intense gaze, both their features illuminated by the light of the candles in the room. Y/N could see every detail, every pore, every small scar that graced his beautiful face. She was caught by surprise, her breath hitching when he gently grabbed her hand, drawing small patterns into it.

“You can sleep here if you wish. I will watch over you and wake you at any sign of discomfort”. She wanted to decline, but there was something in his eyes that was persuading her. Y/N then found herself in his warm embrace, laying her head gently on his chest. She could hear every breath he took, every beat his heart made. Sealing her eyelids, he was the sole occupant of her dreams. She had never slept better.

Daenerys was no fool to what was happening before her very eyes. Sharing a private dinner with her sister, she brought up the topic.

“So, you and the Northern have been spending some time together”. Y/N nodded; not being able to lie since there was clear evidence in front of Daenerys. “He is a good man,” she smiled, “Very kind to his men, to his wolf”, she smiled even further at the memory of Robb introducing her properly to Grey Wind. She could still hear his laughter and the concern that replaced it when Grey Wind had tackled her to the ground with wet kisses. “We don’t want to get that pretty face all slobbered up now, do we?” fondness had colored his expression as he helped her back up. The smile upon her face slipped away, a frown and more serious look taking over.

“He’s very kind to me…I don’t think I will be spending much time with him anymore though”, she held her fork tightly in her hand. Daenerys questioned what she meant by her words. “Personal reasons”, Y/N said in a somber tone, “He will be leaving soon, and I plan to stay by your side”. Daenerys nodded her head, a part of her knowing that Y/Ns’ excuse was not the full truth. It’s not an exaggeration— Daenerys wasn’t a fool. She was well aware of Y/N’s standoffish attitude; practically a hermit as she kept to herself, or Daenerys. She saw the reasoning behind it— having an understanding of her past hardships. Additionally, Daenerys once tried to comfort Y/N during a nightmare of hers, hearing the word “curse” coming out of her mouth every few seconds. She badly wanted to comfort her sister, let her know that she was not cursed— life was just not fair to everyone. Daenerys, however, said nothing. Y/N was the only family she had left, and she did not want to lose her so soon, especially to some man. Forcing a smile upon her face, Daenerys tried to hide the distaste she felt towards her own selfishness. “That is good. Family must stick together”.

As the hours slipped away, Y/N and Robb were spending their last night together in the library. Robb and his men were set to leave tomorrow— all discussions and plans made with Daenerys were finalized. Robb, sitting across the room, was enamored as Y/N read to him out loud. It was a couple nights ago that they created this little routine; Y/N would read to him, and he would give his input at certain scenes. Right now, however, he was not paying attention to what was happening in the story. He was trying to memorize her gentle sweet voice, the way her lips moved with each syllable she said. Finishing a passage, Y/N put the book down to ask Robb his view.

“I can not lie to you. I was not paying attention”. Mouth agape, she pretended to be upset, throwing the small pillow she had next to her. Robb caught the cushion, letting out a hearty laugh that rumbled deep within his chest. Standing up, he walked across the room to her, placing the pillow behind her back. He knew she liked to read in comfort. Y/Ns’ smile was warm, spreading even more across her face at the words Robb spoke next, “You have a pretty voice”. Shyly looking down, she quietly thanked him. Robb’s compliments towards her only continued, “And a beautiful face”.

Biting her lip, she was readying herself to change the topic, but he only continued more. “I remember when I saw you for the first time”, he sat down beside her, sharing body warmth now, “I truly thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman before in my life”. Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes softly and replying in a joking matter “And then you saw my sister and I was the second most beautiful woman you had seen in your life”. Her heart quickened up when she looked up at him, no humor present on his face, only showing seriousness. “No”, he whispered, “you were still the most captivating and breathtaking beauty I’d seen”. Silence filled the room. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers interlacing with hers. “I leave tomorrow”, he spoke of the one thing they both had refused to acknowledge. “That you are”, Y/N said, her main focus placed upon their hands. Drawing small comforting circles into her skin, he asked her what she had planned for her future.

“My future is a mystery”, Y/N sighed heavily, “Regardless, I will continue to stand by Daenerys and be with her when she retakes the throne. She told me that she was going to bestow the Targaryen name upon me, but I’m not sure that is what I want”. Confusion etched Robbs’ features, questioning her meaning. Her face gave away a gloomy look, “I have never really been fond of my Targaryen blood. Daenerys is the only good thing that has come out of it”, she said truthfully, “I’ve gone long enough without a household name, so I don’t see the point in having one”. A smile graced her lips as she looked at him, “I won’t lie, it is a small yearn of mine. To belong somewhere and become a part of something special”.

A pregnant pause filled the room. The only sound being heard was the burning of the fireplace. Y/Ns’ laughter echoed through the room; Robbs’ next statement finding humor within her.

“You can become a Stark”.

Shaking her head, almost wanting to wipe the imaginary tears in her eyes, she continued her fits of giggles. “And how can I do that- “

Robbs’ next sentence caused all laughter within her to cease, her breath getting stuck in her chest. “By marrying me”, he said.

Another pregnant pause. Y/N stared at him in shock, becoming a stuttering mess, “R-Robb, I…”. Before she could finish, he cut her off, taking both her hands into his now, “I plead that you allow me to speak first”, he smiled but looked ready to cry, “I have never felt the way I have when I am with you. You truly have stolen my heart, and I don’t plan on asking for it back. Come with me to Winterfell— become my wife, my queen”. With affection, he raised her hand and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on it, “Grant me the wish to spend the rest of my life with you”. Robb had poured his emotions out into his speech, mistakenly only imagining what he wanted her reply to be. He was not prepared for what Y/N said next.

“No.”

Furrowing his eyes, he dropped one of her hands but still held the other. Shaking his head, he began to apologize profoundly, “I-I’m sorry. I thought maybe there was something between us. Did I ask too soon?”, he looked desperate in front of her, “I can take back the proposal. I can court you properly if that is what you wish – “

“No. No, Robb”, Y/N let her hand drop from his, both now becoming colder by the second, “I can’t marry you”.

The tension crackled in the air as Y/N words hung between them, heavy and unresolved. The room felt suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Robb’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the ground, struggling to contain his emotions and appear unaffected, “Can I ask why?”. Y/N bit her lip, her own emotions consuming her, never wanting more than to cry. “Robb,” she sobbed, “marrying me— being with me would only bring you hell”. Shaking his head, Robb grabbed ahold of her face, staring into her eyes, “What nonsense do you speak of? That can be far from the truth”. Y/N wanted to push his hands off her but was brought warmth by his touch, “But it’s the truth. My presence alone carries a curse. All those I have cherished have been harmed and taken from me”, he delicately removed the tears that were dropping from her eyes, “I’m not supposed to fall in love with you”.

Robb didn’t know what to say, how exactly to comfort her. His only reply being, “there is no such thing as a curse”, which angered her to some extent. Standing abruptly, she screamed out in sorrow, “Yes there is! My mother, my first love, my home— everyone suffered because of me!”, she started hyperventilating, burying her face in her hands, sobs echoing through the room, “You have suffered enough Robb. I do not wish to cause you more misery”. Robb sprang up quickly and encircled her with an arm, drawing her in for a reassuring embrace. As she cried, he felt her body quiver against his chest. He rubbed her back in gentle circles, giving her a feeling of comfort and safety. “Shhh…”, he tried soothing her, “Even if there is a curse, I won’t let it get to me, or you. I will protect you with entire life; you will never be subjected to such pain”, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her head, “I can’t let you go— living out the rest of my life thinking “what if?”.

Shaking her head, she gently pushed him away, “No, Robb”. Y/N stared at him, her eyes reflecting her inner sadness, “This is for my protection and yours. I would not have the strength in me to live if something happened to you”. Walking swiftly towards the door, she ceased her movements when Robb called out to her.

“Y/N. You deserve better”, he spoke truthfully and with sorrow, “You can’t live like this. Someone as extraordinary as you deserves to be happy. To be loved”.

She gripped the door handle, almost hurting her own hand from the pressure. Turning her head, she offered him a pained smile, “Maybe you’re right”, she opened the door, “But such fine things were not made for me in this lifetime”. And she was gone.

Y/N was unable to sleep the rest of the night, tossing and turning in her bed. Come morning, she mentally prepared herself for a conversation she knew she had to make. Standing in front of the chamber rooms Robb occupied, she knocked. A few seconds later, he opened the door, clear surprise on his face at her presence.

“Hi”, she spoke softly. Robb did not verbally reply to her greeting; opting to nod to her instead. “May I come in?”, she asked, and Robb moved to the side to allow her to enter. Looking at him, his tunic was unlaced— a clear indication she had interrupted him in the middle of dressing up. Y/N was informed that Robb and his men were to leave early morning; all they had to do was suit up and prepare their ships, and then he would be gone.

Facing him entirely, she gestured to his packed supplies in the corner, “I came to wish you a safe journey. I enjoyed our time together”. Robb registered her words, taking a deep breath, “Thank you, my lady”. She didn’t have the strength to correct him. All the while, Robb was struggling to tie up the last laces of his tunic. His hands were shaking. Walking slowly to him, she reached for his hands, moving them away to replace them with hers, “Allow me”. Robb felt a fire ignite inside him as her gentle touch sent a chill down his spine. Focused on her work, Y/N laced up the complex pattern, her breath quickening as her fingertips touched his bare chest. Finishing up the last lace, she patted his chest and smiled up at him, “There. All done”. She only took one step back before Robb wrapped his arm around her waist, pushing her back to him. Y/N gaze softened, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. Slowly and hesitantly, she placed her hand upon his cheek, caressing him. Stretching her neck, she placed a small kiss on his lips, pulling away in mere seconds before either of them could comprehend it. Robb did the same; the two now sharing their second kiss.

For a while, they stood in each other’s embrace in silence. Robb took the next step, closing the small distance and cupping her face in his hands. With a mixture of yearning and desire, she leaned into his touch, gazing up at him as her heart ached. Reaching down, he kissed her with longing and tenderness. Y/N reciprocated right away, moving her mouth with his to match his rhythm. This kiss was longer, both wanting to savor the moment a bit more. The kiss had started off slowly but quickly came alive as they both deepened it. Robb fingers wove into her hair, pulling her closer to him; despite being as physically close as possible. Y/Ns’ body felt on fire; Robb’s touch both gentle yet firm as he traced her body with his other hand. Gasping into his mouth, she was taken by surprise (but did not fight off) at Robb picking her up by the thighs— walking to the small table in his room and dropping her on it. Opening her legs widely, he stood between them, both breathing heavily as they’re lips continued pressing together. Y/N did not know what to do with her hands, moving them all across his body and landing upon his hair, tugging slightly at his roots. Robb was the same; still opting to trace his hands across her thighs and up her breasts— igniting a moan out of her moth that he swallowed with his. Both their lips parted slightly, allowing them to slip their tongues into each other’s.

The room was heating up by the second. The only sounds that could be heard were their muffled groans and heavy breathing. Parting away, Y/N went to work to unlace his tunic— undoing her work. There was some urgency in the way her hands moved, Robb staring at her, intoxicated by her face contoured in rapture. He went straight for her dress, moving the fabric down to expose her shoulders, planting kisses on her. Y/N let out a loud whimper; the feeling of Robb biting into her neck sending a jolt of pleasure and goosebumps over her body. Grabbing his jaw, she returned her attack on his lips; their kiss now getting sloppier by the second, teeth almost clashing against. Y/N was readying herself to further pull her dress down but was interfered by Robb pulling away. Almost desperate like, she chased his lips but was denied.

“No,” Robb spoke, almost sounding to be in pain. His breath was ragged, chest moving up and down and fist clenched to his side, “Not like this”. Y/Ns’ common sense returned, slightly embarrassed that her hunger for him had taken over her completely. She was thankful that Robb had the strength and respect to keep her virtue safe. A few moments passed and their breathing became stable once again. Y/N watched as Robb gazed down at her, his lips red and bruised. Taking a hold of her face in his hand, Robb placed his forehead against her, “I love you”. Y/N could do nothing but nod, wrapping her arms around his torso, “I know”.

He smiled sheepishly at her, caressing her cheek, “Write to me at least. Please. Write to me about anything…even if you have nothing to talk about. I will always send a reply back. I promise”. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, kissing his hand lightly, “I’ll try”. Robb knew she was lying. As they held each other’s gaze, time appeared to stop and the outside world became less significant. With one last kiss to her temple, Robb picked up his belongings and went out the door.

Y/N waited a decent number of minutes to pass before she exited the room— making sure there were no prying eyes around. She was hurrying towards her own chambers; wanting to be alone and allowed let all her tears fall free. She didn’t make it far, stopping in her movements at the sound of someone calling her name.

“Y/N”, Daenerys called out at the end of the hallway. Approaching her, she offered her sister a happy smile, “I was looking all over for you. I came to see if you wanted to bid the North men a goodbye- “, Daenerys stopped talking momentarily. Her eyes taking in Y/N disheveled appearance, and the obvious love mark on her neck. “But I can see you must’ve already given your farewell to the King in the North”, she teased.

Y/N nodding, staring down at the ground with her hands picking at the skin around her nails, “Yes, I have. So, I have no need to bid them a further goodbye. If you excuse me, I will retire for the day”. She was barley able to turn her body around before Daenerys grabbed hold of her forearm. “Hold on”, Daenerys said letting out a low chuckle, “It is still early morning. Why would you retire so soon- “. Her amusement dwindled into silence, fully grasping the emotions displayed on her little sisters’ face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”, she inquired anxiously and hastily, “Did that Stark boy do something to you?”, now anger appearing in her voice. Y/N was quick to deny her accusations, “No. He did nothing. It’s what I’ve done to him”. The queen placed a comforting embrace around her sisters’ figure, soothing her hair. “He offered me a marriage proposal, Dany” she sobbed into her shoulders, “And I told him no. I broke his heart”. Daenerys said nothing to the information given to her. A short interval of silence ensured; disrupted by Daenerys taking in a deep breath.

“Do you love him?”.

She hadn’t expected such a direct question from Daenerys, especially about something she had been trying to conceal. Y/N hesitated for a moment— deciding there was no use in denying it, “I do”.

The older sister pulled away, smiling down lovingly at her, “Then why not go be with him?”. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, stumbling over her words, “Because I promised to stick by your side. To help you,” she defended. Staring back at the floor, Y/N inhaled deeply, “Because I am cursed- “

“That is a load of shit”, Daenerys cut in. Y/N gaped at her older sister in disbelief for her vulgar language directed at her. Daenerys persisted with her speech, “You are not cursed, Y/N. Our history might show that our ancestors without the inherited Targaryen traits suffered greatly, but that does not mean all of them will”. Putting both hands on her shoulder, she reassured Y/N, “I know that in their lives they were still able to experience contentment and love. And you should too”.

Whispering softly, Daenerys hold on her sister tightened, “You've gone through a lot, and life has made it difficult to look past your own suffering, I won't deny that. But you need not forget the positive impact that you have on others around you. You undoubtedly brought happiness and love into the lives of your mother as well as those from your pas, and me toot. I'm even more positive that you introduced that into Robb Starks' life as well”.

Daenerys took a moment to recover after her extended address; watching Y/N register every world she spoke. Placing a gentle hand on her face, Daenerys gave her final say, “So, why not go be with him?”.

Y/N expression mirrored her surprise at what she heard. Shaking her head, she repudiated, “B-But what about you? My promise to you- “. She was cut off once again. “I’ve been thinking it over”, Daenerys began, “And I’ve asked too much from you. You are my only family and I wish to keep you by me, but your life is not mine. You control it”. Y/N held her breath, a small tear forming in her eyes. A sense of déjà vu had come to her— those were similar words her own mother had told her. Daenerys smiled widely at her, taking both her hands into her own, “If I am to be a good queen and rule with fairness”, she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “I should let you live your life. As your queen, I give you the order to go live a life of happiness with the man you love”. She sustained the cheerful curve of her lips, “Go to him— go be with him in the North. A change of scenery can be good, don’t you think?”.

Y/N didn’t answer her question; instead, she sprang and encircled her sister in a warm hug. “Thank you, Dany,”, she expressed her heartfelt thanks. Daenerys words had opened her eyes; Y/N was not brought into this world to fear it— she was brought in it to appreciate its gifts. The gifts being family, happiness, and love. Daenerys suppressed a laugh that wanted to escape her lips. Pushing the girl slightly, she encouraged her further, “Now go and tell him. Rhaegal will be sad but he’ll live”. Y/N was quick to turn and follow after Robb, but stopped abruptly at Daenerys calling out to her.

“Don’t marry him too soon”. Panic coiled in the pit of her stomach at the thought that Daenerys was taking back what she said. The older sister waved her hand, shooing the girl away, “I just meant that I wish to be present at the wedding. Now, go”.

Robb stood beside a couple of his men and advisor at Dragonstone’s port. He watched his men load up the ships, trying to listen to what his advisor was saying but his mind was elsewhere. He came here to acquire the Dragon Queen as his ally— and now he leaves with that success and a broken heart. He traced back the memory of their times together, the warmth of her hands completely enclosing his, the way her eyes sparkled with every grin. A longing buried deep in his chest arose with every thought of Y/N. It was a bittersweet anguish. His advisor next to him cleared his throat, grabbing his attention when he nudged Robbs’ side, “Your grace”. Following the direction of his advisor’s eyesight, his own landed on Y/N— clearly out of breath and showing urgency.

“Y/N”, he called out. Robb was quick to grab ahold of her forearms, inspecting her body for any signs of injury, “Are you okay? Is there something wrong?” he asked, concern shown deep in his eyes. Y/N nodded her head, calming down her breathing as she watched his men leave to give them privacy. Staring up at him, she confessed, “I will not write to you”. Robbs’ brows drew together in a frown, feeling as though she was taking a jab at his sorrows. A normal reaction would be to spit fire back, but he was too in love with her.

Swallowing thickly, he responded, “I figured that already- “

“No, let me finish” she interrupted him, “I will not write to you…because I am coming with you”. His eyes widened in disbelief at the statement— not given time to properly respond once again. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her palms grw clammy, “Robb…I love you”. At last, he managed to respond, "You do?" with a tone that hinted at both surprise and joy. Y/N nodded, vulnerability showing in the blush of her cheeks and grabbing a hold of his hand, “Yes. I should’ve told you from the start and I should’ve said yes to your proposal- “, she sucked in a trembling breath, “I care about you deeply and I’ve never felt this much love for anyone”. Y/Ns’ heart raced as her words lingered in the crisp morning air. With a subtle shake of her head, she redirected the conversation. “Though I’ve come to see the foolishness in it; I still don’t know if my curse is real or not. All I know is that I wish to spend every minute— every second of my life with you”. Biting her lip gently, she broke eye contact with him, “It is a big risk, I kno- “.

“A risk I am willing to take”, Robb finally cut her off, “I would do anything for you.” In their moment of confession, they wrapped each other in a tight embrace. With their foreheads resting against each other's, a warm yet hesitant smile spread across Y/N face. “So,” she spoke shyly, “is that tour of Winterfell still up for grabs?”

Robb reciprocated her smile with his own, gently lifting his hands to touch her bottom lip. “Yes. It still is” he breathed out, “And my proposal too”. With a gentle tilt of her head, Y/N moved in closer, “Then I say you take me to Winterfell and make me your wife”. Their lips meet in a tender and heartfelt kiss— all their troubles now resolved. A quiet vow of eternity was spoken as their lips moved in rhythm. A familiar roar was heard; Y/N breaking the kiss and laughing as she took notice of Rhaegal in the sky. Robb found himself smiling even more at the sight of her joy; pulling her closer to him.

A cheeky grin formed across her face, “I think Lady of Winterfell has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”

Robb chuckled, caressing her face, “I think Queen of Winterfell sounds nicer. I also think the title of “Robb Starks’ Wife” suits you even more”. Y/N jokingly jabbed her elbow into his side, slightly squeaking as Robb reclaimed her lips in his. They both were filled with excitement and anticipation for what their future together awaited.

#robb stark #game of thrones #robb stark fanfic #robb stark x reader #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x you #robb stark oneshot #richard madden #robb stark imagine #got x reader #got scenario #got imagines #asoiaf #robb stark x targaryen!reader #robb stark x fem!reader

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itsallrandomcontent · 2 years

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“Not all men-“

You’re right. King Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell, eldest son of House Stark, declared King in the North, wouldn’t treat me like this.

#game of thrones #robb stark #king in the north #robb stark x reader #richard madden #richard madden x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark x y/n

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supercap2319 · 9 months

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"I hope you assholes are enjoying this." Y/N said as he turned around and dropped his shorts as he stood before Ikaris and Peter in a blue jockstrap. He blushed slightly as he swung his hips back and forth for them, showing off his ass in the tight straps as they hugged his ass and made it bigger than they actually were.

Peter and Ikaris smirked from their position on the couch as they watched Y/N shake his ass for them. The whole reason he was doing this was because he lost a bet with them and this was the price. He basically had to whore himself for their amusement as he tried desperately not to blush, which was next to impossible with their lustful stares.

"Don't you think he should finger himself, Ikaris?" Peter questioned with an evil smirk. The Eternal's blue eyes went from Peter to Y/N as he mirrors Peter's smirk. "Aye, laddie. I think he should. Why don't you be a good boy and do that for us, Duckling?"

Y/N blushed and turned around as he held an arm against the wall and began to reach a hand back towards his ass and stopped at his entrance. He turned his head slightly back to them. "I swear I'll make you both pay for this one day."

They laughed at that statement. "Less complaining and more fingers in ass." Y/N flushed as he nodded and looked defeated before he teased his puckered hole and sunk a digit inside as he gasped and whimpers as he pushed into his tight heat.

Ikaris and Peter watched him finger himself as they began to touch each other and rubbed their bulges through their pants. Y/N whimpers as he pushed his finger as deep as he could, right down to the knuckle and opened himself up from them.

"Faster, Y/N." Ikaris'voice was husky and commanding.

"And more fingers and harder." Peter smiled.

Y/N followed their commands as he inserted more fingers inside his tight walls and pumps in and out fast and hard as he gasped as his dick was straining against his jock as Ikaris and Peter began to make-out heavily to the hot sight.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #ikaris x male reader #ikaris x reader #Ikaris x Peter Parker #Ikaris x Peter Parker x male reader #tom holland x male reader #tom holland #peter parker x male reader #peter parker #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x y/n #mcu eternals #richard madden x reader #Richard Madden x male reader #richard madden

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cdragons · 7 months

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Truce Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Pairing(s): Ikaris x Persephone!Reader, Persephone!Eternal Reader & Hecate!Eternal Reader Word Count: 4.1k Prompt/Summary: Part 3 of Truce Miniseries! Warning: SMUTTY TOPICS (Ikaris is a horndog), Neurodivergent reader is neurodivergent, Hecate!Reader bestie is her own warning, Ikaris was kind of a douche (but he gets better), Phastos needs a raise and some aspirin Note: I cannot believe that I managed to update this miniseries so quickly, but my longer fics that forever to write out smh. ANYWAY, once again, thank you to the most wonderful beta reader a new fanfic writer can ask for in the history of everything, @valeskafics ! She is an incredibly kind and patient human and one of the best and most incredible fanfic writers for HOTD, GOT, and the Ewanverse on Tumblr! If you love any of Ewan Mitchell's works or are a fan of GOT/HOTD, I highly recommend checking her blog out! You will not regret it! Also, the BIGGEST thank you and shout of love to @ethereal-athalia , my good man in the storm, I have never clicked so well with someone on this platform when it came to crazy ideas, and thanks to her, I can write out my ideas and share them on this site! If you want to read more from this AU, please click on this masterlist!

“Ikaris,” you breathily purred out, “come with me to my room.”

The second your lips touched the outer rim of his ear, and breathily whispered out your near silent command, Ikaris thought that he must have died and reached paradise. The idea of coming into your bedroom, alone with you, and with no risk of interruptions. He fucked his hand more times than he was willing to admit at the idea. But in every fantasy that entered his mind, that took hold of his body every time you so much as smiled his way, it was you who initiated the coupling. The first thing he registered was the intense wave of your fragrance that overwhelmed his senses, followed by the thought of how the sight of your bed was begging him to throw you on top of the covers, and ravage you until the only word you could remember was his name.

In every reverie that his mind could possibly conjure, you would slowly strip yourself bare before shyly crawling to your bed and draping your figure with coverings. And after he would remove his own armor, he would remove the covers in order to witness you in all of your bare glory, before crawling on top of you. He would be patient with you, only holding you in his arms so that you could feel the rapid beating of his heart. No matter what, Ikaris wanted you to understand that while out of the two of you- he may have been the fighter, but it was you who held the power.

He would treat you with only the utmost tenderness and care that was necessary for an ethereal being such as yourself. He’d kiss you- softly, sweetly- taking in the memory of your lips pressed against his, before he would slowly make his way in devouring you. He often wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelled. After taking his fill with your lips, he would lay kisses across your jaw, and down your neck until he would pause to take in the view of your perfect breasts.

Oh, to be able to hold your chest in his hands would be a dream come true. To mark your supple skin with his kisses would be his greatest dream. The idea of hearing you moan out his name was enough to get him hard. The only part of you that could rival the glory of your chest was the marvel of your perfect ass. Under no circumstances was there to be any space on your skin unblemished by his design, all leading that moment when he will find your clit, with hopes to find you soaked. And if you needed more stimulation, he would be more than happy to help you climax in any way; tongue, fingers, cock, his body was yours. He would not stop kissing, marking, and breathing in you until there was not a single part of your body that wasn’t completely and thoroughly loved by him.

Granted, when you told Ikaris to walk with you to your private quarters at the Domo, he probably should have known it was too good to be true that you would ever intend to be… “physical” with him.

But never in his wildest imagination would he have thought that the room conjoining your bed quarters would house such an impressive field hosting dozens of different kinds of fruits and vegetation, each having an impressive number of subspecies. Nor would he have expected to be in the position of harvesting said crops with you as you begin to talk his ear off about you design the crop, and what qualifications need to be met before you can properly introduce and integrate them to humanity’s budding culture. Ikaris tried his best to follow along, but the moment you uttered the words “sustainable agriculture” he was completely lost. But all hope in maintaining his composure was lost when you reached your grove of root vegetables. Due to some more deeply rooted than others, you had to crouch on your knees in order to gain a steady enough foundation to grip the crop by its stalk to pull it out, forcing Ikaris to test his willpower as he tried his best to not stare too long at the sight of your glorious backside.

And when the two of you moved on, he swore that he wasn’t imagining how tightly you’d grip his cock as he furiously took you from behind, or to have you crouch in front of him as you took his cock in your mouth, or to-

“Ikaris,” your voice brought him back to reality and away from his shameful imagination, “would you mind tasting these Morbus nigra for me? I can’t decide if I should make them sweeter.” You were standing in front him holding the dark fruit to his lips, its dark pigment staining your skin with its juices.

Ikaris’ Adam’s apple bobbed as he silently nodded in order to not voice his impulse to pin you down and ravish you with only the fruits of your labor and research as the witnesses to him worshipping you. Stiffly leaning down to eat the fruit, Ikaris’ tongue brushed against the tips of your purple-stained fingers. An explosion of tart and sweetness burst within his mouth, and Ikaris held his gaze to you as he gave his answer.

“…It’s perfect,” he replied, “once again you’ve outdone yourself, Sephia.”

Ikaris would have fought a thousand deviants alone if you could keep smiling the way you did now.

About 2 hours must have passed of you and Ikaris inspecting, harvesting, and taste-testing in your little paradise. It wasn’t until you were satisfied with the yield resulting from your and Ikaris’ efforts that you rushed Ikaris away to wash off the dirt in your private showers, and was instructed to meet you in the kitchen area of the Domo. And as Ikaris stood in your bathroom, stripping himself of his azure and gold armor, he couldn’t help but to take in all the details of the room’s interior. Each bedroom of the Domo was identical in both layout and furnishing, but as time passed, each Eternal started to leave subtle hints that hallmarked their individuality.

Assuming that your room would be neat and systemic, he was amazed to see the cartography of beautiful disorder and chaos from vines creeping up your walls, bundles of flowers hung to dry, tins of stones and pebbles covering the surface of your desk, and several heaps of bound paper filled to the brim with notes from past observations and hopes for future experiments scattered on the floor. To see the inside of your lodgings allowed him to look into your mind, to see a part of you that was so carefully tucked away from everyone else, and it was driving him mad.

Realizing that he was standing in the middle of your room naked, Ikaris retreated back to the bathroom to turn on the water and quickly washed off any evidence of dirt and sweat from his skin before he met up with you. He made sure to close his eyes to center himself. If he thought too long of how he was in your shower, and would use your soaps and oils to result in him smelling like you for the rest of the day, then he would be forced to rush his pleasure and your image deserved to be savored.

Redressing himself, Ikaris quickly walked over to your arranged location, and when he saw you standing behind the island counter, washing the vegetables, he could only stand in awe. While there wasn’t a time he hadn’t thought you weren’t beautiful. Ikaris was utterly enchanted at the sight of you now. Your body was slightly swaying to a tune you once heard at one of the many gatherings held in their honor. Unaware that you were humming, you were so focused on preparing your harvest that you hadn’t heard Ikaris enter the room. It seems that you also washed yourself, as evidenced by the messy bun with a few stubborn damp tendrils escaping and clinging to your brow. Your face was beautifully flushed, as he was sure as was the rest of you, despite being hidden by your Eternal’s uniform. You were the image of serenity and beauty.

Clearing his throat to gain your attention, you quickly turned around and flushed in embarrassment.

“Oh Ikaris,” you exclaimed, “I’m sorry, were you standing there for long?”

“No, I just got here,” he replied, “I’m sorry for taking so long, and you should have just let me use my own shower if you wanted to take one yourself.”

Waving your hand to dismiss him as you chuckled, “No, no, no! Don’t worry about that! I just showered in Kaety’s room! Besides it’s only fair considered how many times she’s used mine.”

…What? Why would- why would Kaetlyn- huh?

Furrowing his slight displeasure at this new knowledge, Ikaris quickly asked you to clarify, “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” You seemed genuinely surprised at his question, but you shrugged it off, “Phastos had to design 2 extra rooms because Kaety ended up making a secret lab for her dissections and practices out of her original room. She transformed the bed into a surgical table, filling the room with weird jars- which is how I ended up helping her with the preserving solution since the bodies would degrade so quickly- and it got to the point where Phastos ended up FAINTING when he accidentally walked into the room because Cerbie left the door open. Can you hand me a few of those Allium praecox, they’re the ones that look like big white spheres?”

“…But why did she use your shower?” Maybe it was stupid for Ikaris to feel so jealous at an event that happened so long ago, but he hated your friend more than ever now.

“Well, she and I ended up sharing my room because she transformed her bed, so we slept in the same bed and everything! And I love Kaety, but she smelled HORRIBLE after dealing with Deviants, so I always made her shower before coming to bed. She would be soaked in that blood- and I know that our uniforms are made of energy that allow them to clean and mend themselves, but the smell still stuck to her skin, her hair- there was even blood under her fingernails!”

Your body shuddered at remembering it before continuing, “So I made it kind of a rule that whenever you enter my room, you have to shower. Otherwise, you were barred from entering my room. Can you please pass me the Allium praecox now- oh, and the Allium sativum? They look like the Allium praecox, but they’re smaller, and look kind of lumpy. Anyway, Kaety ended up getting her own room and a lab, and then I kind of wanted an area that I could have full control over what I could grow- so, I ended doing the same thing but instead of blood, it was dirt.”

Head still screaming questions, Ikaris only silently handed you the bulbous vegetables as you continue with your tasks. For the rest of the time being, he just handed you whatever ingredients you needed, and observed you as you prepared everything to cook them. Watching you calmed his temper immensely, as he made sure to make minimal comments and only asking questions whenever there was something he was truly confused by. Soon, there was no speaking necessary as the two of you worked in amicable silence.

When Ikaris was focusing on mashing the Cicer arietinum into a smooth paste with the mortar and pastel per your instructions, you couldn’t help but take in the man beside you. You couldn’t believe how much he’s changed since you first acquainted yourself with him.

You were always aware of Ikaris since the moment you stepped off the Domo to first meet humanity, one couldn’t help but always be aware of him. Ikaris always had such a commanding presence, an attitude that demanded all attention from everyone in the same room as him- even the way he walked and stood screamed for attention.

From the beginning, it was obvious to you that he only pretended to try to get along with you so that he could gain Sersi’s affections. That was the other thing that made Ikaris so unbearable to you initially, his hubris. He had an inane talent of holding himself to such a high degree of competency that it baffled you whenever you saw someone as sweet as Sersi smiling and laughing with him. Sersi may not have been as close to you as Kaety, but you and her grew very close as you worked together in aiding humanity with their crops and developing their agriculture. As such, you saw it as your duty to warn her of Ikaris’ intentions, not wanting her to fall victim to such a pathetic man- no matter how much Ajak trusted him. Furthermore, it enraged you to no end how he would have the temerity to instruct YOU of all people on how to properly plant and harvest the crops YOU designed! He would even go out of his way to critique your reluctance in interacting with humanity, constantly comparing you to the other team members, mostly Sersi and himself. It was unbearable, and every time he would finish his “lecture,” you would lock yourself in your room to try to stop the cruel voices in your head that doubted you. Every time you saw him, your detest grew and grew until a boiling point had been reached, and the limits of your patience had passed the point of no return.

That was the day Ikaris thought it would be a good idea to publicly critique your behavior in front of the team, and question whether or not you were trying to hold them back with your inattentiveness and lack of commitment.

And that was the comment that broke the metaphorical camel’s back.

Not even Makkari was quick enough to stop you as you launched yourself to Ikaris, and delivered a slap with the most satisfying crack as a result of all of your strength being poured into it. You were done. If Ikaris had ever thought you to be a meek little flower before, that was officially over as you began to scream your anger at his deplorable behavior and complete lack of respect. You told him exactly how you felt every time: he wasted your time intruding on your duties to flirt with your friend, made snide comments of your crop designs and purpose, and would only pretend to be cordial to you whenever Sersi was looking, only to revert back to his neanderthal ways the second she turned away.

By the time you were done, you could feel your body vibrating with the adrenaline from your outburst. Ikaris- along with everyone else on the team- stood still and slack jawed at the event they just witnessed. Not wanting to risk the embarrassment from your impulsivity taking over, you quickly left the Domo to find a quiet place for your own thoughts. It was late at night, and so you quickly managed to find a private area of the gardens. But it wasn’t long until Kaet ended up finding you- as she always does, thank Arishem for that. She didn’t say a word as she laid by your side before she gathered you in her arms, and letting your head rest in the crook of her neck.

You loved so many things about Kaety- her courage, her intellect, her kindness and overwhelming empathy- but if there was anything you were grateful for, it was that she had the ability to understand you without the need for words. You knew she was proud that you stood up for yourself- that you finally defended yourself against your oppressor- but that wasn’t what you needed then. At that moment, your senses were going into overdrive. Your heart was beating so fast, and you just wanted everything but Kaety to disappear. Your brain felt so wired, but your body was beyond exhausted. Conjuring up a blanket, she covered the two of you as you let yourself simply feel- crying yourself to sleep as your best friend’s arms protected you from the rest of the world.

The sun rose from the west, the world still stood, and everything from the night before remained. You dreaded the idea of seeing the team, but Kaety knew you and her needed to return.

“Don’t you dare lower your head,” she told you, “don’t you dare let him take this from you.”

And so, with the both of you returning the starship, you refused to let yourself acknowledge the stares of everyone at you. Kaety was your steady boulder, stopping anyone who approached the two of you with just a single stare. The two of you managed to make it back to your room before you felt all the air leave your body as you sunk to the ground. Knowing that you haven’t even washed yourself after working in the fields yesterday, Kaet ordered you to take a long shower. She hadn’t even left the room as you did so, going so far as to tuck you into bed, assuring you that she will inform Ajak that you would take no visitors or interruptions. She even left a little part of her shadow to guard your entrance from the hall, giving it strict instruction to inform her immediately if anyone so much as tried to knock on your door.

The next few weeks went by with your mind in a slight haze. Druig and Phastos congratulated you for standing up to Ikaris, along with promising protection should their leader’s second-in-command attempt to say anything about you behind your back. You and Phastos had always been very close to one another, as you always liked to ask questions about his inventions, and made sure to offer encouragements whenever Ajak had to reject them for being too advanced- but Druig was a surprise.

While you and the telepath were well-acquainted with one another due to the other’s relationship with Kaetlyn, you and him were never truly close. However, your outburst changed that, opening a doorway to a strange, but comforting friendship a bit similar to the one you shared with Phastos.

You were worried about Sersi, as you enjoyed your time with her and didn’t want things to be awkward with the two of you. So, you were shocked when you saw her apologize to you for missing all the signs of Ikaris’ inappropriate behavior. You dismissed all of her worries, assuring her that she was not to blame for Ikaris being himself. Luckily, it was as if nothing had changed- a huge comfort to you to say the least.

All was peaceful within the team until Ikaris would approach you to “apologize.” An attempt that would always result in you ignoring him, refusing to give the neither the satisfaction nor the time of day. It wasn’t until he declared that you were acting like a child for not even seeing that he was doing his best to make amends. But you quickly shut him down, outright stating that he had done nothing to show his remorse, and that you had better things to do than to waste your time on someone who thought himself a leader, but couldn’t even admit his own mistakes. You pushed past him, thinking that was the final attempt, and Ikaris would forever remain the man with too much pride and not enough humility to gain your respect.

But despite all your doubts, Ikaris proved himself capable of admitting his own mistakes, and showed genuine remorse and actively changed his behavior. He would no longer approach you with such haughty behavior, and would genuinely ask for your help when he had trouble understanding something. He would no longer try to deflect whenever you pointed out a mistake, and would be patient in your explanation. And try as hard as you did, you couldn’t help but see Ikaris in a different light. You forgave him, and you were so glad to at this moment.

Still staring at him, you took in all his features with keen observation. While Kaet still insistently compared the flying Eternal’s physical features to a sight less pleasant than having a Deviant’s gonads shoved in your face, you could admit that the man before was an extremely handsome one. Despite all his bravado and apparent confidence, you could more than understand why so many female humans were enamored at the sight of him. Even you occasionally couldn’t help but admire Ikaris’ deep blue eyes, eyes that were staring back at you at this very moment.

“Something on my face?” He asked with a raised brow that only further highlighted his sharp features. You blinked for a bit.

“Sorry, I was just thinking that you are very handsome.” You revealed with a straight face.

Not bothering to hide the pleased expression on his face with a light tint of red on his cheeks, Ikaris turned his body to fully face you.

“Handsome, am I?” He smugly asked, “Careful Sephia, you might risk filling my ego if continue those sweet words.”

Now it was your turn to blush.

“Oh, come off it,” you snarked as you rolled your eyes, “don’t bother to pretend you don’t know how the women always clamor to get your attention at every gathering since we first came here.”

“I assure you I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do you scoundrel.”

“Scoundrel?” Ikaris mocked, “Do you really think this face belongs to that of a scoundrel?”

“Yes, it absolutely does” you replied- before pretending to be deep in thought, “Your face shows me that you are about...48% scoundrel- no wait, now it’s 67% because of that smirk.”

Eyebrows lifted and lips tucked in, Ikaris closed his eyes and gave a deep nod- if only to show that he took your 67% scoundrel assessment very seriously. Seeing him like that must have pleased you, as you began to smile.

“You know,” you began, “you should smile a lot more. It makes you look more approachable, and maybe Kaety wouldn’t give you such a hard time if she saw you like I’m seeing you now.”

Ikaris stood there, contemplating what you just said. It wasn’t that he was incapable of showing his vulnerable sides, you just had that natural ability to bring out the parts of himself that he hadn’t thought were there to begin with- maybe, it was a gift that only you possessed. But at the mention of your friend’s name, Ikaris suddenly remembered why he sought out your company in the first place.

“Sephia,” he began- lowering his voice a bit to steel himself, “about you and Kaetlyn- I just wanted-”

He couldn’t even finish his question at the sight of your full attention at him. Not wanting to ruin all the mood, he decided that he would just leave it for another time.

“I wanted to let you know that- I’m glad,” he ended up stating, “I’m glad that Kaetlyn is someone you can always rely on- even if she and I don’t get along, it makes me happy to know that you’ll always be safe with her around.”

Unable to hide how touched you were by his words- knowing fully well how little he and Kaet got along- you flung yourself to Ikaris, wrapping your arms around his neck, and gave him the biggest hug like you have only ever given to Kaety. And although he was a bit caught off-guard, Ikaris gladly reciprocated your embrace, burrowing his face in your shoulder, bliss filling his entire frame.

“Ikaris,” you whispered, “you have no idea how much that means to me.”

The two of you stood there for a few more minutes before you unwrapped yourself from him, and immediately resumed cooking. Although no words were exchanged, there was a lightness and warmth added to the atmosphere of the room that was not there before. Soon enough, the two of you finished and set the dishes on the counter before tucking into your well-deserved meal.

“…Did Phastos really faint after seeing Kaetlyn’s room?”

“YES! Oh, it was so funny- well, at least to Kaety, but I admit that she may have gone too far when she placed his body on top of her surgery table, and put on a deviant’s skull and stood over him when he woke up- he ended up fainting all over again!”

Please like, comment, reblog, and/or share this post with anyone who might enjoy it! Please be kind, and live an extraordinary life!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia , @valeskafics , @aphroditesmoon , @its-actually-minicika , @spacetalbot , @angelnyx , @vikingqueen28 , @redheadspark , @siempre-bucky , @beananacake , @asa-do-your-thing , @justmymindandstuff , @heliosphere8 , @bambiandbam, @sunphyre , @bryandechartisasmolbean, @getawaycardotmp3 , @americanprometheuss , @themeanestlittlewitch, @katiemaysworld, @atomwritez , @karimac

Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future posts!

#marvel eternals #marvel x reader #eternals x reader #ikaris imagine #ikaris x reader #ikaris x y/n #ikaris x oc #ikaris x eternal!reader #ikaris x female reader #ikaris #richard madden #richard madden x reader

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cilliansgirl · 2 years

Text

Y/N: So that’s my plan.

Druig: Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don’t want to sound mean.

Y/N: No, go ahead, I want to hear it.

Druig: It fucking sucks.

Y/N: That’s not constructive criticism.

Druig:

Y/N, tearing up, visibly turning red:

Ikaris, jumping up from his seat: Hey, hey, it’s alright love. Druig, apologize right now.

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imaslutforcuddles · 1 year

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MAIN MASTERLIST

A/N: This is going to take a bit to complete, so hang on with me. Yes, i know i already have one but i don’t care. This one is going to be better. (gifs aren’t mine btw, i do not take credit for them at all.) I have requests available so PLEASE DO NOT BE AFRAID TO POP IN, SAY HI, OR REQUEST SOMETHING <3!!!!!! Some of my writing includes smut so i have a lil decoder for my singles :3

Smut:❤️ / Fluff:✿ / Angst:☆

RICHARD MADDEN

Mason Kane:

Nadia x Mason drabble ❤️

Robb Stark:

Take you to hell ❤️/ ☆

Did something bad / two / three (i know it’s been awhile but it will be finished some day😭)

David Budd:

Enemy ✿ / ☆

Ikaris:

Be good to me / two / three

JOSEPH QUINN

Eddie Munson:

Antsy ✿

Look after you ✿

Dumb Dumb ☆ / ❤️

Escapism ☆ / ❤️

CHRIS EVANS

Ari Levinson:

Run little bunny❤️ (coming soon!)

HENRY CAVILL

August Walker:

Vampire ☆

Geralt Of Rivia:

Shameless ( in progress )

SEBASTIAN STAN

- nothing here yet!

This is the end for now! <3

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countrymusiclover · 1 year

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Do I want to write a Robb Stark book while I am writing a new chapter for my Jaime fic (Fire OF A Stark) yes. Yes I absolutely do! 🤣 🤣

#fire of a stark #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister x targaryen reader #jaime lannister x stark reader #jaime lannister x reader fanfiction #robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x oc #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x you #robb stark x reader fanfiction #richard madden #nikolaj coster waldau #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 5 months

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Last Updated: 2024-03-13

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Robb Stark stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

❆ Early Christmas￨Prt. II￨Prt. III [Modern! A.U.] ⧫ by letsasoiaftogether • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Robb Stark gets a surprise just a week before Christmas"

❆ Falling for You by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "[An employee of the palae, you find yourself] falling for the King in the North, quite literally."

❆ Last Christmas by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul • 〔F〕 •

Summary: The reader returns to Winterfell after spending three years in King’s Landing and three years since the last Christmas spent with Robb.

❆ Down Hill by the-dendrophile-bookdragon • 〔F〕 •

❆ Holidays with the Starks [Modern! A.U.] by megsironthrone • 〔F〕 •

❆ Mistletoe￨Prt. II by blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms • 〔F᜶M〕 •

❆ New Year's Kiss [Modern!Royal! A.U.] by megsironthrone • 〔F〕 •

❆ Snowball Fight by imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul • 〔F〕 •

See Also: Navigation || Robb Stark Master Index

Authors: @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms || @imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul || @letsasoiaftogether || @megsironthrone || @the-dendrophile-bookdragon ||

#Robb Stark x Reader #Robb Stark x Female Reader #Robb Stark x Y/N #Robb Stark x You #Richard Madden x Reader #Richard Madden x Female Reader #Richard Madden x Y/N #Richard Madden x You #Game of Thrones Fanfiction #Game of Thrones Fanfic #Richard Madden Fanfiction #Richard Madden Fanfic

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beananacake · 2 years

Text

The Accidental Princess (Part 12)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Synopsis: You awake and see how everything has changed since your vanishing

Word Count: 13.6k words

Warning: angst, violence, mentions of death and blood and murder, period-typical misogyny, long and maybe a bit of a boring chapter?

A/N: Hello my loves. I'm so sorry it's been so long. I promised you I wouldn't abandon this fic and guess what, TAP 13 is also finished! I just need to write the Epilogue and we're all gucci ;) I love it when you leave me little comments of your thoughts so please, don't be shy to leave some! I love it when you reblog this fic too! As usual, not beta'd, all mistakes are mine. Enjoy Part 12! (13 is coming a week or so after this!)

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The storm had taken a turn for the worst.

The once-calm sea had become violent in a matter of seconds and it had sent the crew of the ship into a frenzy, with incoherent orders barked from one sailor to another. Some had hoisted the sail, some had turned the mast and turned it whichever way the wind blew, and some had taken the supplies back to the deck below. Your father had grabbed hold of the helm along with the captain, doing their best to steer the massive oceanic vessel with the storm. You learned that fighting with the storm was futile; to go against it was instant death. You knew of no one who had gone against it and had survived.

Your grand blue skirts brushed against the barrels, halting you in your steps. You had always changed into your shirt and breeches whenever you were in your travels but now, you had failed to do so because your mind had been preoccupied with his smile and laughter and the way he answered the archbishop—

You could not change into different clothes now, especially so when the sailors were struggling with the strong winds and would not care less for how you appeared.

You spied one crewman floundering with his end of the rope, holding on to it for dear life, as the wind blew on the sail. No one seemed to have noticed him and so you rushed to his aid, grabbing hold of the hemp rope with both of your hands and gave the mightiest tug you had ever given.

“Y/N!” You heard your father cry out to you.

You lifted your eyes to the stern where your father stood with the captain, unable to shield your eyes from the rain as both of your hands were holding on to the line. He was pointing towards the cabin, shouting orders that were drowned by the crashing waves.

You knew what he meant, that he wanted you to return to the safety of the cabin, but you could not find it in you to leave the crew to brave the storms themselves. You were not some helpless lady, prone to fainting at the sight of something unseemly, and you did not wish to be alone if—or when—the ship turned into a watery grave for you and the rest of its passengers. No, you did not want that. You shook your head wildly at your father, hoping he saw it through the thick curtain of the rain and in the bleakness of the sky, and heaved once more as you pulled on the rope.

“Miss!” said the sailor beside you. “You must return to the cabins!”

“No!” you told him. You grunted with effort as you pulled on the line, hoping all that you were doing had an effect, even if it were small as compared to theirs. “I will not leave you!”

“Miss Y/N, the storm will only blow you away—”

You planted your heels against a barrel, the wind quite literally sweeping you off your feet. You hoped he did not see the coincidence of his words. “I am quite all right!”

Arms grabbed at your waist. Your sudden abduction made you drop the rope and you squirmed to break free. The arms were tight against you, knocking the air from your lungs and you could not voice your protestations despite the many of them that came to mind. It hauled you with him, moving you farther away from the once-struggling sailor, bringing you to the safety and dryness of the captain’s cabin.

“Please, Miss,” pled the sailor before he locked you within.

You tried pulling the door open but to no avail. The crewman had indeed locked you in with no intentions of setting you free whilst the storm was still raging. You would not stand for that. Your fists pounded at the door and you pled with whomever was outside to release you so you would help. Your request fell on deaf ears.

The ship gave a mighty lurch along with the wave and it sent you staggering backwards, landing heavily against the corner of the captain’s dresser. Pain erupted on your side and you cried out at the surprise of it. And before you could recover, the ship crested once more. This time, it rose much higher than before.

You were flung backwards, the force of the sea too strong for you to counter. It sent you flying back against the south wall, along with the many items that were scattered on the captain’s desk. A lit lamp flew by your ear and shattered upon impact, plunging the cabin into darkness. Maps and charts were tossed to your person. A large tome nearly hit you on the head, and an inkpot missed your hip by an inch. And when you thought it over, you heard the peculiar creaking.

It was a different type of creaking, one that made the hairs on your arm stand in fright, one that was unlike the usual sound of the squeaking doors. You had not one idea where it could possibly come from and you paid it no heed until the next shifting of the sea vessel. You had not moved from your position in the south wall—a mistake because the unusual sound had been the loosening of the bolts that held down the captain’s mahogany desk to the floor. With the ship’s near vertical ascent, the heavy woodwork came barreling towards you and in a matter of seconds, had you pinned against the wall, momentarily seizing you of your breath upon impact.

You gasped at the force; pain nearly blinding. The mahogany office trapped the lower half of your body along with your left arm, rendering you immobile, save for your other arm that you used to thump against the desk.

“Help! Help me!” You shouted as loud as you could with the piece of furniture pressing down on you. Your palm beat the desk until it hurt for you to do so, and still, like before, no one had come through the door to your aid.

“Help! Help, please!” You cried out. You labored your every breath, the motion of the ship not helping you because every movement only pressed the large desk closer to you.

Another wave hit the ship. The force of it moved the desk, giving you and it a wide berth, enough for you to move away. Whilst successful, you had not accounted for the other furniture in your haste to get away. As you moved closer to the door, you tripped on the raised carpet edge and the same dresser that you had fallen on before, now fell on you. Or rather, fell on your leg.

You gave a howl of pain, at the heft of the solid mahogany dresser and its attempt to squash your ankle flat. You knew the joint had broken upon impact and as you tried to pull away, you somehow felt your foot detaching from the rest of your leg. You felt sick to your stomach at the mere idea of it.

You grappled blindly before you, grasping for anything you could use to haul yourself from under the heavy woodwork. Your nails scraped against the wooden floor until your hand found purchase on a strewn piece of rope. You held onto it tightly and with all the strength you had left, pulled yourself from under the furniture.

“Help!” You cried as you dragged yourself. “Please, anyone! Help me!”

From your position on the floor, you felt even the minutest of all actions about the ship. There were the hurried footfalls of the crew. Their shouts of orders reverberated through the floor. You felt the crashing of the waves against the side of the ship and how it rattled both the bones of the vessels and yours. Even the swooping and falling of the boat was intensified from your place and each motion made you sick to your stomach.

You willed your churning stomach to calm down lest you start retching. With all the strength in you, you pulled on the rope, working with the actions of the waves and the boat, only moving when the cabinet lifted with the ship. Your hands ached at the hard strands of the hemp rope but you paid it no mind; you wanted to be free. You needed to be free.

Outside, the winds bellowed. The cabin lit from the lightning and shook with the thunder.

You pulled yourself free from your trappings when the dresser lifted with the surging of ship. You swung your injured leg away from any other furniture in danger of falling over and tucked it under your dress, hoping against hope it was still useful. You clung on to the rope and used it to pull yourself closer to the door. You banged and pounced, crying for help, and no one still came for you.

There was a loud, inhumane moaning, one that made you pause in your desperate attempt to call the sailors’ attention. You felt the ceasing of the motion on the ship. No more rushing steps. No loud calls of order. No sound of the storm, even. It was as if everything stopped. Everyone stopped.

A breath caught on your throat at the thought of your father. You pressed your ear against the wooden door, listening intently for whatever sound that could tell you of the state of him but there was nothing. The gentle sloshing of the water against the sides of the ship were the only sounds you could make out.

You slammed your body against the door, putting all of your weight to it to push it open. It took you three tries—and with each try, you grew weaker—before it burst open. You fell on the floor as it broke free, the effort knocking the breath from you.

You sputtered and coughed but the gasp that came from you was not because of the impact. It was because all the men of the ship had vanished, save for the figures before you. Two of them laid on the floor, bathed in red liquid, and the other stood with its back to you. The other was a that of a woman, her body turned to the standing man, waiting. For what, you were fearful to find out.

“Father?” you called to one of the figures, hoping it was the one standing although the silhouette did not look like him.

You scrambled to the nearest body, dragging your own behind you. You harshly grabbed at the head and turned it to you, breath halting at the sight of Kit.

Kit. The prince. Your former husband.

His ocean eyes were unseeing. There was a deep gash that ran across his neck and it oozed blood like the brilliant scarlet ribbon you often saw the Princess of Zaragoza sport in her hair.

You did not know he was aboard the ship. You did not know that he had followed you especially after—

“Kit?” You pulled yourself closer to him, cradling his head on your lap, not minding that your skirt was being stained of his lifeblood. You slapped at his cheek, watching as your tears fell on his lifeless face.

“Kit! No! Please, do not be dead!” You begged of him, shaking him, slapping, pinching, doing whatever you could to rouse him. “Please, my love. Please!”

His azure eyes—eyes that once beheld you like you were the most precious thing in all the land—remained empty.

You cried as you curled against him, embracing him, refusing to believe he was gone. “Oh, Kit. I love you. Forgive me. I did not know. I did not know…”

The harsh clattering of shoes sounded stark against the absolute silence. You did not relinquish your hold on him as you looked up at the source of the only sound.

“Ambitious girl,” it snarled.

You swallowed at the dread that kissed your back. You knew that awful voice and yet, you refused to acknowledge it.

“You thought you could save him from me but you’re mistaken,” the Grand Duke snapped.

He grabbed a hold of your face, turning you to him harshly, trapping your chin in one of his hands. His other was turned into a fist and was raised in attack.

“You’re next.” And his fist came down.

Your eyes flew open.

Kit. You had to find Kit. You had to see him—

You tried moving but there was a weight that stopped you. It was not as heavy or as solid as the furniture had been but it was rather plush, almost downy, but still quite hefty against your tender body. You attempted to lift your injured leg in hopes of knowing if it still had any use to you, but it felt as though it were caged in something. You could not twist it at all. It only laid motionless and the thought of paralysis scared you. You were immobile. They could easily get to you if you were immobile.

Was this some sick, cruel punishment conjured by the Grand Duke? Had he hit you and you had died upon his fist’s impact to your head? Was this the afterlife? What of Kit? Of everyone aboard the ship?

Your heart beat terribly in your chest, quick short gallops that made you fear it would burst from your ribs. You breathed shallowly and loudly, like gasps that racked your whole body. You felt your palms slick with sweat. It was too bright. It was too cool and warm at the same time. It was—It was—

You protested against your bindings, squirming to make space for you to move and be free but it was impossible. Your own body limited your movements because every squirm, every effort, made it hurt with an ache you had not experienced before. Your head had started to swim with the motion you were doing. You wanted to stay strong but your own body was weak and tender.

This had to be a part of the Grand Duke’s designs. He had failed in killing you when he had thrown you in that small hole and now, he had returned for you, returned to make good of his threats. He had bound you in these ties that were impossible to escape from.

“H-help!” You groaned weakly. Your voice scratched at your throat; the effort making you cough out the dryness. “Help! Help me!”

You thrashed and called out for help at the same time; not making any progress on either. The ties that bound you were tight, as was the vise that held your leg. You tried crying louder for help, hoping someone not employed by the awful nobleman would come to your rescue.

But when the doors flew open, all hope dissipated from your chest.

Princess Chelina entered through the doors, frantically looking about before her eyes landed on you.

You shook your head at the sight of her nearing you. She was his kin. She was an accomplice. She had to be. There was no reason for her to come barging to your room other than to inflict some kind of torture until you gave up living.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” she asked as she approached you. A forbidding feeling sat at the pit of your stomach.

“No. No, please. Not you,” you pled. You turned from her and yelled out. “Help! Please!”

“I am here to help!” She exclaimed over the loudness of your voice. “Tell me what is wrong—Guards! Get the physician!”

Efforts proving successful, you scurried from her, finally able to move your sore body and you landed on a heap on the floor beside your bed. The slamming of your injured foot against the floor, coupled with your already-bruised body and aching head, made you howl out in pain.

“Guards!”

You knew you had to get away from her lest she tied you back to whatever torture device her uncle had chosen for you. Your efforts were piteous; you tried dragging your body to a corner, hoping to become small enough for her to ignore but instead, you moved at a snail’s pace. You could not even pull your body because it ached by just being there.

“Y/N, let me help—”

You looked at her, eyes wide in fear. “Please,” you rasped and begged of her, tears pooling in your eyes. “Please, stay away from me.”

The look she gave you was one of dawning horror. She moved closer to you—you flinched away and she stopped herself from even nearing you after that.

“I would never hurt you,” she said. She crouched before you and reached out a hand to you like you were some spooked animal. “I am not my uncle—”

Your body shook at the mention of the man, at the memories of what he had done to you. A tear rolled down your cheek as you shook your head when you refused her attempts of helping you.

“Please. Please.” You did not know what you pled for but you felt in you that you had to.

“You must get back to your bed,” she said instead. “You are injured. You need to heal.”

“He wanted to kill me,” was all you said.

“I know,” she whispered achingly. “I’m sorry.”

“He killed the queen,” you told her.

She did not react in the way you expected. She only nodded sadly and still held her hand out to you. “I know. Please, Y/N, you must return to your bed.”

You disregarded what she had said after she told you she was aware of the man’s actions. She knew? She knew her uncle had committed regicide? Queen Amalie had passed the year before and yet her uncle has not been apprehended since?

“You knew?” you asked her, fear leaving you momentarily. Taking its place was disbelief. “You knew he killed the Queen?”

She nodded. “Yes. I was told of his sins.” She bent closer to you, face imploring. “Please. Let me help you back to your bed.”

You shook your head as you moved away. “No. Stay away. Please, I beg of you.”

A familiar face appeared behind the princess. Abigail arrived, looking harried as though she had been running, and rushed to your aid. You clung to her and let her lift you from the ground, shaking your head to ward off the nearing princess.

“Abigail, please, please, don’t let her near me!” You exclaimed, almost crazed with fear at the thought of suffering again.

“Miss?” your maid asked, sounding confused at your request.

“Her uncle! The Grand Duke! He—He—he killed the queen!” You looked at your friend, grasping at her small body as yours shook with desperation to be heard, to be understood. “Abigail, I must find Kit. I have to make sure he is safe—”

Your maid nodded at you. “He is, Miss. The prince is safe. You must not worry.”

“What?” you asked weakly. “Kit is safe? Where is he? I must see him—”

“You cannot, Miss. He is attending the Grand Duke’s trial. He will not return until nearly nightfall,” cooed Abigail. She had helped you back to your bed, gently brushing the hair from your forehead. “I will inform him you have awaken once he arrives but for now, you must rest.”

Your eyes flitted to the Zaragozan princess who stood rooted before your bed. It had only occurred to you that you were not in the ship anymore, that you had been returned to the palace, in the same room the king had given you upon your first arrival.

But the ship? Was it a dream? you thought to yourself confusedly. It was too vivid to be anything but, too lifelike especially when the dresser had fallen on you. But only, it did not fall on you and instead, you have fallen from a great height and your body had ached upon the impact.

It slowly came back to you, of the riotous storm and the rising waters, the jagged stones that pricked and stabbed at you, of the darkness that you feared would have made you blind. You had been feverish too and had hallucinated to comfort yourself.

But you could not recall anything of when you were rescued, no face nor voice at all to tell you who it had been that had saved you. You remembered singing the lullaby your mother had sung for you when you were a child. The hallucinations of her felt real, like she had indeed come from beyond the grave to comfort you. She had kept you company and you knew you would have gone with her if she had urged you to, if you had not been found by whoever recovered you from that dark space.

If your being on the ship was a dream, then none of that had happened. Kit did not—What Abigail said of Kit’s being in the trial must be true. He is safe. He is safe, you assured yourself, trusting Abigail’s words.

“The physician will see you now, Miss. I will leave you with the Princess—” Abigail turned to go but you grabbed at her hands.

You shook your head a little too wildly than normal, tightening your grip on your maid’s hand. “Do not leave me, please.”

“Princess Chelina will—”

“No.” You pulled Abigail closer to you, clinging to her like you were a small child. “I do not want to be left alone with her.”

The look she shot the princess was stricken. “Your Royal Highness—”

“It is all right, Abigail.” came the Princess’s reply. It sounded defeated and mournful; nothing at all how you remembered her to be. “I shall be in my chambers if there is need for me.”

Abigail bobbed a curtsy and turned to you. She brushed the hair off your face, nodding comfortingly. “I will remain, Miss, but the physician must have a look at you.”

The royal physician came and examined you; he deemed you safe from your bout of fever but he remarked that the bruises and aches you felt would remain for some time. The broken bones were the result of your fall and while the physician had done all that he could, the rest was left for nature to heal you. There was only a dull ache when he pressed and prodded at the once-tender parts of your body, a sign that he deemed you were near recovery. Your falls while attempting to leave the hole resulted in scars around your body; most were small scratches but the deeper ones had been healed and had scabbed over.

Your foot, however, was another matter entirely. He postulated that you had fallen on top of it and the weight of your body broke your ankle. He had placed your foot in a splint to prevent you from unnecessarily moving it and would remain so for months or until the bones and muscles had properly healed. The swelling had gone down—he told you it looked far more grotesque when you were rescued—but it still, it had not gone back to normal.

And your hysterics—you hated the term he used but you knew those were that—were the result of the mental trauma. Do not think of the man or his deeds, Miss, the physician said but you knew it was far easier to be told of that than to do it. You could not help that your nightmare of the Grand Duke having slayed Kit on your ship was fresh on your mind and had haunted you ever since you woke. You also could not tell him that the sight of Princess Chelina had triggered the great anxiety from you or else you risked sounding rude towards the Zaragozan princess.

“Your mental fortitude is strong, Miss,” the physician said as he mixed a vial of medication to your cup of tea. “I have had patients go mad when they were forced to face those who tortured them. I do not think you are in any danger of that.”

You could only look at the man, refusing to respond because you were at the brink of insanity with every passing moment you could not see Kit.

“But for now, you must rest once more. The ordeal of waking up and with your anxiety has taxed your mind and body.” He passed the teacup to you and you downed the contents like a parched castaway, drinking the bitter concoction to the dregs. You had not enough time to comment on the extreme tartness of it because sleep overtook you.

When you came to, the curtains were drawn to reveal the dark night sky. The rains had ceased and the full moon illuminated the grayness of the clouds as they floated by. Your room was kept dim, the only light coming from the crackling fireplace. Two shadowed figures spoke in hushed tones before it, heads bent as if in deep conversation.

You craned your head sideways to look for your maid, hoping she was still present in your chambers but from your position on the bed, you could not find her. You rose with the use of your elbows, the ache resonating all over, pain nearly forcing you back down the bed but you carried on, and you grunted as you felt your muscles lock. Your actions rustled the thick covers that were laid on top of you. The conversation between the two figures stopped and both heads simultaneously turned to you.

“Y/N!”

It was Louis who approached your bed first, a wide and relieved smile about his face. You sank back and watched as he sat on the edge before taking your hands in his.

“Imagine our relief to hear you have awoken. I was beginning to doubt your maid’s word because when we arrived, you were still asleep like how you had been the week past.” He gave your hands a gentle squeeze.

Your attention moved from the Duke of Granville to that of the other silhouette, who now rose from the seat and marched its way to you. The figure stopped at the foot of your bed, watching you with its sapphire-like eyes. Kit.

Kit was here.

Kit was alive.

You only beheld the man you loved, wanting nothing more than to run in his arms but knew it was impossible because of your broken body. He looked as how you remembered him from your waking moments and from the nightmare—eyes as blue as the calmest seas and the clearest skies. Shoulders broad and strong but now they dropped as if from exhaustion. Face handsome as ever but he appeared gaunt as though he had not had sleep for days. Kit remained at the foot of your bed, watching you with his tired but hopeful eyes.

“Must we call for the physician? Your foot has been rendered immobile by the good doctor. He said it was to ensure its proper healing. If it is hurting, we must tell the man at once.”

You turned to your dearest friend and looked at him blankly, had heard him but you did not comprehend his words because your thoughts were preoccupied with Kit.

“Why aren’t you speaking? Have you gone mute? Good god! Will a high fever make one voiceless?” He frowned at you now, frantically searching your face, still holding your hands in his.

Despite the heaviness you were feeling, a chuckle bubbled from you at the duke’s panicked ranting. It was a harsh sound but a sound of happiness, nonetheless. You squeezed his hand, assuring him that you were well. “How will I talk if you did not give me leave to speak, Louis?”

He laughed at that, enveloping you in an embrace. He was gentle against your sore body, cradling you in his arms like you were a newborn babe. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his tense shoulders relax when you reciprocated the action. Your heart sang out for the duke. You could only imagine the horror they went through to find you and to wait for you to wake once they had.

When he drew back, he smiled at you with the same jesting smile you came to love.

“Always with that smart mouth of yours,” he told you. “You have to be careful with your investigation from now on, pet. I am not always present to save you,” he japed once more.

You rolled your eyes at him in a show of affection. “I thank you, oh my knight in shining armor.”

“I was not wearing an armor then when we rescued you. And my silk shirt was drenched and ruined when I plunged into the lake to search for you.” He sulked rather childishly and you chuckled at the absurd sight of the handsome, charming duke.

“I’ll be sure to ask the tailor to round up two fine silk shirts for Your Grace.” You said with false gravity. Oh, how you missed this!

“Very good.” He grinned. He sobered as he took your hands once more in his. “Pet, you must know I did not call for you to go in the library. It was not me.”

Your heart thudded against your chest, losing the lightness that came to you instantly. You gave a sad smile, disguising the shiver of fear for one of coldness. “I surmised as much,” you rasped and you cleared your throat. “But it hardly matters now.”

Louis squeezed your hands once again. “Chelina told me that you refused her presence.”

You drew your hands back and kept them under your covers, hiding from them the way they trembled at the princess’s name. “She—” You frowned and harrumphed, swallowing the hard lump that now resided on your throat.

“She is his kin,” you told the duke in a small, shaky voice. “She had no reason to be in my room or come to my assistance.”

He gave you a sad shake of his head, disagreeing with what you said. “She is also his victim. And she has kept watch of you while Kit and I attend the trial. It is her penance, she said, because she is his niece even though she is faultless in all that has happened.”

You had not thought of Chelina as the Grand Duke’s victim. It was jarring to know the nobleman’s manipulation knew no bounds—his machinations were not exclusive to Kit and his family. Even his own family he deceived, all because he could. Gooseflesh rose from your skin and you rubbed at them.

“And yes, he is in trial. He will not harm you any longer.” Your friend assured you.

You nodded absently, hoping his words to be true. Your dream felt ominous.

Louis looked back at his cousin, who still stood unmoving in his position, before his eyes returned to you.

“He was insufferable when you had vanished,” the duke said and you heard the jesting in his tone.

You gave a weak smile at Louis’s attempt to joke. Your eyes then flicked to Kit’s, who only watched you quietly.

“I shall take my leave. Kit has been hoping to see you awake since your rescue. I would not want to make him wait any longer.” He took your hand and placed a delicate kiss atop it. “Call for me if you wish for better company, pet.”

The jolliness of the duke was infectious and, even as you were still reeling from the mental torture the Grand Duke’s attempts of killing you had inflicted, you could not help the smile that graced your lips. He gave you a brotherly kiss on your forehead and whispered that he was glad to see you awake and nearly back to your pesky self, to which you replied that you only gleaned it from his behavior. With a laugh and a pat on his cousin’s shoulder, he left your chambers.

You watched Kit from your bed, at the way he did not move to near you. He only beheld you with warring expressions; from anger to pain, disbelief to assurance, from the way his eyes seemed steely with memories before it melted and made way for the familiar love you saw in them. The relief that emanated from him was near palpable and it bled through you, easing your mind and calming you.

The lifeless Kit only belonged in your nightmare. This was the truth. This Kit before you, he was real and alive and—

“Are you all right?” you asked when he still made no move to come to you.

“Are you?” he countered, voice quiet.

Despite you wanting to answer in the affirmative, a whimper escaped your lips. The emotions that assailed through you were too much to bear. You loved Kit, loved him more than you could ever love anyone, and to see him before you—in the flesh and not as some febrile hallucination or in your nightmares—brought out all the frustration and fear and pain in you.

Your tears spurred him into action; his arms were now around you as sobs racked your body. They were pitiful sounds, not unlike the same tears you cried at the announcement of your separation. You clung on to him, leeching off of him to appease yourself. He was the salve to your pain, the comfort to all your aches, and if he let you take what it was that he offered to heal you, you greedily accepted it.

He drew back from you and his thumbs swiped at the tears that tracked down your cheeks. His cerulean eyes looked at you with all of the love and worry in the world, a frown marring his handsome features and morphing his face into that of utmost concern.

“Are you in pain?” he asked of you, ache lacing his voice.

“I was so scared,” you choked out in between sobs. “I thought I would not return to you. I thought I had lost you—”

He shook his head with an intensity you had not seen from him before, as if he would not allow you to entertain such a thought. “Do not think of that, my love. I will always come find you wherever you are, never doubt it.”

In spite of all his assurances, more tears welled in your eyes. You let them come, basking once more in the comfort of your love’s arms. Kit only held you flush against his chest, murmuring assurances that you knew were for the both of you. You clung to him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, felt him tremble as he embraced you with such ferocity that it made you weep some more. Once you had spent all the tears, you pulled from him and almost shied away if he had not taken your chin softly by his fingers. He turned your face to him, his ocean-like gaze soft and loving.

“I love you,” he said. “Never think otherwise.”

You nodded, knowing you would not.

And like the capricious seas, his gentle eyes turned stormy. Gone was the fond expression and in its place was that of tortured pain. The emotion clouded his eyes, changing his entire face, and he turned from you to hide it.

“Forgive me for not coming for you sooner,” he said and you heard how he choked on his words as well. “We were gathering evidence as quick as we can but it was not fast enough. And the Grand Duke refused to tell me where you were. It had only been by his mistake that he revealed you would have drowned if we were too late. And… And while we were not too late when we found you… Louis and I…”

Your chest ached when he failed to continue, as if voicing them would bring him more pain. No matter how he tried, he did not follow through his words. He now looked at you with his troubled eyes, eyes that had seen horrors you would not be able to comprehend.

You placed your palm flush against his chest, felt the thundering beats of his heart so similar to your own. You longed to take the pain from him, to return the warmth he gave you as he calmed the fear that once laid in your chest. Kit suffered enough. You would not allow anything to hurt him anymore.

“You were calling for your mother,” he said in a voice so hushed, it was nearly drowned by the sound of the crackling of the fireplace. “I knew she was gone; I had seen the shrine your father built for her, but you were holding a conversation with her. You were answering questions only you could hear and I—”

A tear glistened as it slid down his cheek. He swallowed thickly and you saw the lump as it worked on his throat. “It reminded of my mother. She had been delirious on the day she died. So when you called out to your own mother, when you only looked past me when I finally had you in my arms… I thought I was too late. I thought I was bound to lose you too.”

“Oh, Kit.” Your own eyes burned with tears and you felt them fall down your cheek. It must have been difficult for him, to have seen you in that state and be reminded of how his own mother had died. But you did not pass unlike his mother. He needed assurance that he arrived just in time for you.

Your hand that was on his chest moved to cup his cheek and you wiped the tear with the pad of your thumb. “You found me. I am here.”

“But I was too late—”

You shook your head at him gently. “No. No. You were not. I did not drown. I did not perish.”

Taking his hand, you used it to cup your cheek, leaning into it as if to say you were not a mere illusion. That you were present because of him. You hoped you brought comfort to him like his presence had with you.

“All I could ever think of was you,” he told you. “Even when my father was recuperating from his own brush with death, all that worried me was finding you.”

“All I could think of was you, too,” you said as you looked at him.

Kit's lips met yours in fiery desperation, hungry to feel you closer, wanting to absorb you into his very being. His hands moved to your face, cupping your head as his lips danced on your. You tasted his tears along with his relief and frustration, savored the salt and the sweetness of his lips. You threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer than ever, hearts beating in time with each other as your chest pressed against his. Your fingers vanished in his thick hair on his nape, grabbing a handful of it when he suddenly deepened the kiss. Your own mouth moved with his, a new bravery coming to you and you ventured on, even tasted more of the salty tears that had now come from you. Kit was real, this was real. You had found each other. It was all that mattered.

You loved Kit, you could not deny it any longer. You loved him above everything you held dear in your heart. You loved him mightily, loved him with your whole being and you wanted nothing more than to remain in the protection of his arms. You survived to love him, this much you knew. And love him, you will. Without constraint. Without a second thought. Without a care for the judgement of others. He loved you and you loved him. It was all that mattered.

You cried out when his hands pressed against your bruised back, and he pulled his mouth from you, seeking your eyes for any pain. You only buried your face on his neck, breathing deeply and inhaling his scent and found comfort in it from everything that ailed you.

“I love you,” you whispered against his skin. You laid your hand on his chest and felt the fast drumming of his heart, rhythmic with your own. “I am yours to undo, Kit.” you said, repeating the words he had said to you.

He kissed your crown gently. “I love you,” he whispered against your hair. “I will love you forever.”

You remained in each other’s arms after you kissed, sharing no words between you. It was the unsaid that spoke volumes, of the words that did not need saying but you both knew what they were.

It was after a while that you asked how and where he found you. He had replaced you back in your bed, a mountain of pillows behind you as it propped you upright. He still clasped your hands in his, refusing to forgo any contact with you. His thumb brushed gently across the skin of your knuckles, a soothing action that put the both of you at ease.

“The lake we were searching sat near the mountain ridges that held the mines. Something called me to them. It told me to come and seek there. I thought it had been my mother’s spirit, calling to me to rest my head before I go for another search of you. So I went.”

He then told you of how Louis refused to follow the singing voice but reluctantly helped him when Kit told him he was free to leave. It had been your singing that led you to them, and your hallucination of your mother dangling a ribbon to you had been Kit, dangling his own rope to haul you from the deep well. It was his voice that instructed you to tie the ribbon to your waist, the one who asked that you kept singing so you would not be scared. Kit’s eyes were the familiar blue you remembered seeing before everything turned black.

“I am glad you are awake, my love. I would not know what I am to do without you.” Kit told you as you both waited for dinner to be brought to your chambers. He had told the butler and your maid that he and you were to sup in your room; he refused to leave you even for a while.

You gave a wan smile, recalling the nightmare that prompted you to wake and shuddering from it. Your reaction did not go unnoticed by Kit, who took your hand again in his and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles to calm you.

“I dreamt you died,” you whispered, watching as he stiffened against your hand.

He only looked at you with pained eyes, unmoving but did not let go of you. You held on to the warmth that came from him, feeling it strengthen you to tell him of your horrific nightmare. You felt the need to tell him of it, felt that you had to show that it frightened you into waking.

You struggled to gather your thoughts, not wanting to relive the mental torture but you knew it must be said. “I was on a ship,” you told him. “There was a strong storm and the crew were having a difficult time navigating the seas. We could not dock because there was no land in sight.”

“Where were you going?” he asked quietly.

You frowned and swallowed an impossibly large lump on your throat. “Anywhere away from you. I—I could not bear to see how happy you looked when you had married Princess Chelina. I refused to see you smile and not be the one to receive them.”

You let out a shuddering breath, shivering when you felt the phantom heaviness of the dresser against your crushed ankle. It was a dream, Y/N. It was only a dream, you told yourself. You told him what had happened in your nightmare, of the storm that appeared so suddenly to when you were pinned beneath the furniture. “I was able to free myself from the cabin and when I emerged on the deck, there he was.

“The Grand Duke.” You whispered shakily.

He pressed your hand against his cheek now, holding you close, and you felt the roughness of the growing stubble about his skin. The sensation was new but welcomed—anything else was welcomed compared to the pain you felt at the memory.

“The crewmen were gone. No trace that they had even been there at all. There were only four figures; the Grand Duke was standing there and had been holding something in his hand that he dropped at the sound of my voice, and the other two laid on the deck with blooding oozing from them. I do not know who the other one was but it was a female. I called out to my father, hoping he had been the one standing but I received no answer. Then I turned the head of the body closest to me and it was you.”

Your eyes burned. Tears blurred your vision as you looked at Kit’s blue eyes that had become your home.

“I did not know you had followed me when I left. I did not know why you did when you had looked content to be married to the princess but I was too late to ask all of those questions because the Grand Duke had killed you. Your eyes were open but they were glassy; they only went through me without seeing me. You did not rouse when I tried waking you. You did not—”

You sucked in a desperate breath, feeling your throat constrict as your nightmare flashed before you. “You were dead. He killed you. And he wanted to kill me too.”

Kit’s arms wrapped around you once again and he made a soothing sound as he ran his hands in your hair. You released another wave of tears, crying at the sight—at the mere idea—of the Grand Duke coming after the prince. You were defenseless with your still-healing body; although you knew the possibility of your dream coming true was low, it was not an impossibility for it to happen.

“The Grand Duke is under Captain Thibault’s custody now. His trial before the Magistrate is afoot.” Kit told you as he soothed you. “Prince Frederick will ensure we get the justice we deserve.”

You nodded quietly, accepting all that had been said. You relished to be in his arms, to feel the love that radiated from him, basked in it until you were spent from crying.

“Will you stay with me?” you asked of Kit. “I do not wish to be alone with my thoughts and my dreams.”

He pulled from you and gave you a soft smile, brushing his knuckles across your cheek to wipe away the tears. “My love, I will do anything you ask.”

You were anxious when the food arrived. It reminded you of the last time you ate at the Dining Hall, of the time when the king had ingested hemlock. You would have taken it absently, given how emotionally fragile you were then. Kit noticed your reluctance in eating and he sampled everything in your plate and his to show you that the food was harmless. He assured you that the Cook had also been held in custody for her alliance with the Grand Duke.

All other accomplice he had had been captured and kept, he had said, they will not harm us any longer.

Dinner was brief. You had taken only a few bites, despite Kit’s attempt at making you eat more, and you filled the rest of your empty stomach with tea. Kit only frowned but wisely did not comment. When dinner had been cleared away, you offered the space beside you on the bed for him to lie on. He refused, told you that your foot still needed healing and was mindful enough to take into account the many bruises on your tender body, and that he would stay on a chair to keep guard of you. You were exhausted by the end of that conversation and would have engaged in more if your eyelids had not shut close immediately after he assured you.

When you awoke in the morning, Abigail had taken Kit’s place on the chair and was mending your pink dress. She noticed you were awake and passed to you a note and a small bouquet of flowers. You left the bouquet on your lap and opened the missive, finding Kit’s elegant script informing you why he had gone so early.

My love,

I must see to matters of the kingdom while Father is resting. My Cousin and I will be absent for the day. Forgive us for not being able to spend much time with you. Princess Chelina has told me she is at your disposal come this afternoon, should you wish for it. Your maid Abigail will devote her time to you. She will not leave you until I arrive, perhaps by dinner or after. Let her be your hands and feet while you are taking your rest.

I had picked the flowers from the garden. I hope it will keep you company until I return.

All my love forever,

Kit

The bouquet was small: irises, begonias, daisies, and lavenders haphazardly put together and tied with a length of twine. You found amusement in the bouquet, arranging it in a way so they were not crowding against one side. You knew he took extra care in picking out lavenders as they were still plump and full of its sweet-scented buds, unlike the rest of the bunch that look as though they were merely an afterthought. But altogether, however, they were beautiful. You had asked Abigail to put them in a vase beside your bed.

Breakfast was much like dinner; Abigail sampled your food before you ate it and you only nibbled on eggs and bread before telling her your appetite had gone. Tea calmed your churning stomach and you plied yourself with the liquid every now and then, sometimes with sweetmeats when you had gotten hungry. Your maid did not comment on how little you ate but she often looked at you with worry.

“What news of the king?” you asked her when you had tired of looking out your drawn curtains and to the soft rain that was once the riotous storm.

“The king is well, Miss, but the physician says he is to rest until he regains his strength,” Abigail dutifully replied. “In the meantime, it is the prince who oversees the matter of the kingdom.”

You nodded. You wrung your hands on your lap as you asked her nervously: “And of his upcoming nuptials to the Princess Chelina?”

She dropped her mending to look at you, conflicting emotions on her face. She looked in part happy and hopeful, and she also looked sad and piteous at your question. You did not know which emotion was for you.

“They are not to wed,” she replied.

You frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“There are rumors, Miss, of the prince refusing the princess’s hand in marriage, especially after everyone learned of her uncle’s treachery.”

“Rumors?”

She nodded. “The King and Queen of Zaragoza arrived early today. The prince and the princess were called to meet them. We could only assume it is for the dissolution of their engagement since we have not been told to prepare for any festivities.”

“But the king has been insistent on them marrying.” He divorced me from his son for the sole purpose of him marrying the foreign royal, you wished to add but refrained from it.

“If so, they were to be married upon the arrival of her parents. The Head Housekeeper has not ordered meats and breads and flowers for us to prepare, and it takes an awful long time to do them, Miss.”

You remembered Kit’s missive, of Princess Chelina’s availability only in the afternoon. Your heart gave a wild thump at the coincidence of Abigail’s words and his letter. Will they really meet with Princess Chelina’s parents? Did he truly refuse to marry her? A hopeful voice in you asked. Kit would be free to marry whomever he chooses.

But do not assume it will be you, another voice said, this one a tad derisive than the other. The king insisted he wed a princess, not a country girl or a diplomat’s daughter, especially one who has brought on more trouble than what she’s worth.

You refused to acknowledge the evil voice in your head but you knew the words were true. Even if Kit and Chelina’s engagement were to end, his father would only find another princess for him to marry. And you were not. The king had made it glaringly obvious, most especially during your last dinner with them.

“Is the princess an accomplice of the Gr—her-her uncle?” you asked slowly, unable to express the words without feeling the kiss of dread on your back. Just the mere thought of the man sent you into a spiral of anxiety.

But Abigail shook her head a little too solemnly. “No, Miss. She has been frightened of him since learning what he had done to the queen, the king, and to you. She had kept watch of you ever since your return, all because she wishes to apologize for what he had done.”

Perhaps you had misjudged the princess when you awoke. In your dreams, she was Kit’s newly wedded wife, as was the king’s plan for her. And the ribbon that she often wore on her hair looked so much like the terrible gash on Kit’s neck that leaked his blood. If Abigail spoke the truth, then when the princess burst into your room to heed your pleas for help… You cringed. You were monstrous to her. Louis was correct in saying she had been a victim of her uncle too.

You and Abigail talked of other matters and you were glad the topic was diverted into something else other than the awful man. She was enchanting company; she talked of her days with the Captain of the Guards and how the Head Housekeeper nearly caught them cavorting with each other. You were happy that she was happy with Captain Thibault and you decided that you were to ask for Kit’s help to bring them much closer together. And Abigail, loyal as she was to you, she decided then and there that if you were to leave the palace once you have recuperated, she would wish to be in your employ as your lady’s maid.

“Although,” Abigail had said as brushed your hair. “I wish you could remain here, Miss. The palace has become lively with you in it. It is like the days before Queen Amalie’s death has returned.”

You left your conversation at that.

Kit arrived by dinnertime.

“I hoped the flowers sufficed during my absence,” Kit said as he returned to his seat. He looked much improved since seeing him yesterday, as though your awakening had done wonders for him. He appeared to be jollier as well, making him look nearly identical with his cousin.

“They were lovely.” You smiled at him as he reached for your hand. “Thank you.”

“Louis shall join us shortly,” he informed you as he slipped his fingers in between yours. “How was your day?”

“Uneventful. I cannot leave my bed, even if I wanted to.” You gave him a sarcastic smirk, of which he returned with a laughing one. It was refreshing to be this open with him; a marked contrast after all the times you were forced to keep your love for him to yourself.

You watched him, debating on asking him about his and Princess Chelina’s engagement but you caught yourself. You were not in the position to ask him of such; it was his and the princess’s business. Despite the newfound candour you had with him, his relationships were a line you dared not cross.

“No one will stop you if you spoke what’s on your mind, my love,” Kit urged. “Tell me. I shall answer however I can.”

You bit your lower lip, wanting to ask him but at the same time, wanting to remain ignorant. What if the rumors were incorrect? That Kit and Chelina only met with her parents because they wished to push forward the wedding to an earlier date? That they only wanted a small ceremony so as to not draw much attention to how sickly the king was? What if they had already been married in secret?

“Y/N?”

“Is it true?” you blurted. You could not bear to remain in the shadows any longer. “That you and the princess will no longer marry each other?”

“Ah.” was all Kit said. He leaned back on his seat, stretching his legs, but he did not let go of your hand. “Yes, it is true.”

A wave of relief washed through you. But it was short-lived. His father will still want a princess for him, he had told you as much. You dared not hope.

“I was not present to watch you wake because we spoke with the King and Queen of Zaragoza today. Chelina and I told of our plan to not marry each other. They were quite peeved at the turn of events but they concurred when we told them the truth.”

You cocked your head to the side, watching his face. There was no regret on it and he only spoke as though it was all purely for business and for the kingdom. In that moment, he looked quite princely as he spoke.

“What truth?” you asked.

“That the engagement was her uncle’s machinations. The Grand Duke wished to install Chelina and control her once she becomes queen.”

You shivered. You would have guessed the nobleman was misogynistic if only his ire and disdain had been directed at other women as well, not just you.

You felt the gentle pressure of Kit’s hand against yours, belatedly realizing that your hand shook at the mention of the ghastly noble.

“While they maintained that they were unaware of his plans, they still urged us to honor the engagement since Chelina is already present in the kingdom.”

Your eyes flicked to him, at the wry twist of his mouth. You refused to name the way your heart broke at their suggestion. Surely, a prince and a princess could not decline such a suggestion, especially when it came from monarchs of a powerful kingdom?

“I have never seen the princess be so determined until earlier today.” Kit told you, now in amusement and awe. Your heart gave a painful thud at the admiration you saw that sparked in his eyes. “During the times she was here, she had been docile and aloof. When we spoke to her parents, there was a fire to her spirit. She told them it was her decision to not marry me because I had been through enough heartache and she would not want to saddle me with herself, seeing as I do not love her. She said it would be cruel of her to force the two of us to such fate when there is a solution to mine.”

You only kept watch of him, of the soft, loving smile that graced his lips as he now beheld you. Princess Chelina advocated for the dissolution of their engagement? Because she knew he did not love her? It was an absurd argument. You knew of other kingdoms whose kings and queens did not marry for love and yet their kingdoms thrived under their rule.

“In that moment, I knew she would make for a great queen.” Kit said proudly. “Just not mine.”

You were quiet for a while, letting the soft brush of his thumb against your hand fill your senses. “I have seen how Louis and Princess Chelina are fond of each other,” you said casually, looking for his reaction.

He chuckled heartily before he kissed the top of your hand. “Fond? They are in love, much like you and I.”

Oh. You smiled, unable to name the way your heart filled with happiness for your dearest friend. It seemed as though his longing stares were not one-sided as you had thought.

Conversations halted when the food arrived. You were famished from not having enough food throughout the day, having eaten only tea and sweetmeats, that you did not wait for Kit to sample your food for poison. He only smiled affectionately at you as you attacked your meal with vigor. Louis arrived when you were half-way through with your meal, smiling as he commented on how ravenous you were. You decided to ignore how unladylike you looked as you ate.

“Have you had your dinner?” you asked when he settled beside his cousin, a cup of tea in his hands. There was a tiredness to his face and you recalled the letter Kit had penned, of Louis helping him with matters of the kingdom.

“It was like a state banquet, pet,” he replied, stretching his legs and crossing it at the ankles. “I dined with my uncle and the King and Queen of Zaragoza. The only topics of conversation had been politics and economics.”

You smiled.

He looked at the cup in his hand, swirling the liquid in it. “I confess I miss having tea with you. Kit is surly whenever we have tea and I cannot seem to get your concoction right. Mine are always bitter or too floral to the senses.” He crinkled his nose for added effect.

You chuckled. “Perhaps he is surly because your tea does not taste pleasant.”

“You do not have to mince your words around me. You can tell me it is horrid; I heard Kit say it so. I know I do not possess a prowess for tea blending.”

You smiled. “Only for tea drinking, I fear.”

Louis erupted into guffaws. “Oh, pet, it is nice to have you back.”

The conversation carried on until the rest of the night. You learned that Louis had taken the role of adviser to Kit while he took care of the kingdom’s business. The matters of the kingdom had increased in number since the start of the trial. The devastation the storm had wrought added more to the already waiting pile of work that was left by the king and his perfidious adviser. But Kit and Louis did not protest their work. They merely talked of it as though it were an everyday conversation topic.

They had asked of your opinion for some of them, asked how it had been in other kingdoms and lands and if their plans would benefit the people more than burden them. Your inputs were appreciated by them; often times they would turn to each other and exclaim that you had found the solution they were looking for. Your heart warmed at the casual conversation. As the night wore on, you found yourself blinking and yawning more than you had in hours. You fell asleep as they were talking of the mines and the gemstones.

The days that followed were mundane at best. Kit had gone before you awoke but he always picked a small bouquet to leave you, always with lavenders. Abigail had brought an embroidery project so you were not weary of the same days. You were able to finish two cushions in a week. For someone who thrived on travelling and meeting new people, your confinement to your bed was like a punishment. You were a creature of adventure; keeping you in one place was almost physically painful to you. The pains in your body had gone, leaving you only with scattered dull aches and healing bruises, mostly from the places where you had broken your fall. Your foot was healing as expected but it was still not strong enough to carry your weight.

Come dinner, you were often accompanied by Kit and Louis would arrive soon after, telling you of more stories he heard from the Zaragozan royals during their supper. The skies had turned for the better; no more storms and if there were rain, it was only a spray-like mist that often entered your open window.

On the very week after you had awoken, you promised yourself you would speak to the princess after you had your lunch. You were not in any position to snub royalty and you felt you must apologize for your atrocious behaviour towards her. You believed you were well enough to face the kin of the man who wanted you dead without feeling any anxiety.

Princess Chelina arrived in your chambers, looking as haunted as when you had first seen Kit when you awoke. The pallor of her skin worried you, as were the tearstains that tracked down her hollow cheeks.

“Miss Y/N.” Despite her appearance, her tone was happy and relieved. “I see you are faring better.”

“Your Royal Highness, please forgive my lack of curtsying. The physician warned me against using my foot and he would not have me out of the bed before it is healed,” you said.

You saw that she kept a respectful distance from you. You gestured for the chair nearest to your bed. “Please, Your Royal Highness.”

When she sat, you motioned for the tea set that was beside her. Abigail had poured and prepared everything for your conversation with the princess. “Tea, Your Royal Highness?”

She graciously declined the biscuits but nursed her teacup in her hands. She watched you expectantly, still as regal despite the sadness that lurked behind her eyes.

“You must forgive my reaction to your coming into my room, Your Royal Highness. I thought—”

She raised a hand and halted your words. She gave a gentle shake of her head. “You must not apologize. It is I—”

“But you are a victim as well,” you said, frowning.

“As were you.” She sipped the tea, turning to look at the cloudy summer sky. “My uncle, he did horrifying things to you and to Kit’s family. I could not apologize enough for his transgressions.”

“It was not your fault, Your Royal—”

She turned to you, a soft smile on her lips. “Please. You must call me Chelina.”

You paused to smile, nodding smally at her request. “You must not burden yourself with the sins of your kin, Chelina. It was not your doing. You were unaware that such a thing happened. I apologize for making the mistake of thinking you were involved in his plans.”

The smile she gave you was polite and one of absolution. “I feel terrible for what he’s done. It wasn’t right. And he planned to marry me to the prince only so he could control me.” You saw the shiver than ran through her frame. “He is hideous. I cannot fathom the darkness that goes through inside his mind.”

“It is one darkness I would not wish upon you,” you told her gravely. “You were lucky to escape his clutches.”

“I truly am sorry, Miss—”

“Y/N, please,” you offered.

“Y/N. I am sorry you had to endure those days in the well. I could only imagine the pain and suffering you had gone through.”

You swallowed the lump that formed on your throat. Your palms had started to sweat and you wiped them on your covers. You breathed evenly for a few moments, steadying your heartbeat that started to drum in your ears.

“Those days are gone now. I am found. He is in trial. All will be well in the end.” You told her. You reached for her hand and gave a squeeze. “If forgiveness is what you seek for his crimes, then I forgive you even if you have no fault on the matter. Forgive yourself, too, for the sins that are not your own.”

She squeezed your hand in return and gave you a grateful smile. Her shoulders lifted as if your pardoning her removed the heavy burden from her. But still, you knew in yourself that the tears she shed were not for her uncle. They were for another matter entirely. You would have asked if she had not spoken first.

“Why did you not tell me you were wed to Kit?” Chelina asked as she drank from her cup.

It was bound to be brought up, you surmised. “The king wanted us to be divorced. It would not have mattered if you knew because our marriage would have been dissolved before your wedding to him. It would have been a great scandal if the people knew.”

The soft clanging of the cup against the saucer was the only sound in the room.

“Why?” you asked her. “Why will you not marry Kit?”

Chelina gave a tired, mirthless smile and ran a hand down her skirts, straightening it. “The queen’s premature death was by my uncle’s hand. I do not think the people would take kindly to his niece being the kingdom’s future queen. I will be unpopular with them and I will not serve my purpose if they do not want me to lead and serve them.”

“All for diplomacy, then?” you asked. “Not because of a certain duke, particularly one from Granville?” you ventured.

She stiffened in her seat and the sadness that lurked behind her eyes now resurfaced. Her lips quivered as a tear rolled down her cheek. She drew a hand to her mouth to shield away how it trembled at the mention of your dear friend.

“I am to leave tonight, for Zaragoza.” she whispered brokenly.

“But you love him—”

“Love has no room for princesses.” The scorn in her tone reminded you of her uncle but whilst his was of anger, hers was resigned and a resentment of her stature.

The composed façade she kept upon her entrance had finally crumbled. Gone was the regal Princess of Zaragoza and in its place was another lovelorn woman, regretful and mournful of the love she was to leave. You knew how the heartbreak felt—knew of it firsthand—but for someone in her stature, you could only fathom that it hurt a hundredfold.

“He is not a prince. My father and my mother will not choose a mere duke for me. They will find another royal in desperate need of a wife and they will offer me,” she spat hatefully although you could hear the surrender in them. Her tears flowed now but she made no move to wipe them.

You could only nod, words evading you. You let her cry, gave her leave to show the emotions you knew she would only hide from her parents.

“Have you said your goodbyes to him?” you asked quietly after she stopped her tears.

“I cannot,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I cannot face him. I… I cannot bear to see the pain on his face.”

You reached for her hand again and gave it a squeeze.

“I do not want to see him lonely.” She closed her eyes briefly and a frown marred her features. “It is not like him, to be sad. He is the epitome of jolliness and carefree leisure. It would be unnatural to see any other emotion on his face.”

You gave her hand another squeeze, in agreement to her words.

“Do you think he will be angry at me for leaving without saying my farewells?” She looked at you now, eyes wide and tearful once more. “Perhaps it will make it easier for him to forget me if he is angry with me. Perhaps it would be easier for me if he hated me.”

You shook your head passionately, pained that she would even consider such thought. “No. No. Louis is nothing of that sort. He will only hurt but he cannot hate you. He will never hate on someone he loves.”

Her lips trembled once again but she held herself. “How would you know? You and he are good friends. I doubt there was a time you deliberately hurt each other.”

You smiled sadly at the memory of the moment he knew of yours and Kit’s marriage and pulled back from holding her hand. “Oh, I had. When I did not tell him his cousin and I were married, he felt betrayed. It was the angriest I had seen him but he never hated me. He understood why I could not tell him. He would be understanding to your plight as well.”

Chelina took a sip of her tea and replaced it on the saucer clumsily. She took a shuddering breath and when you thought she had finally composed herself, another tear fell from her eye.

“Still, I cannot bid him goodbye,” she whispered achingly. “I do not want to remember his face and be reminded that I had been the one who put the pain there.”

You only nodded your head, understanding her. You would have done the same if Kit had married Chelina. “I understand.”

She took another sip of her tea.

“Would you like me to convey your goodbyes?” you asked of her.

She shook her head. “I do not know what to say.”

You watched her, wanting to pity her but refrained from doing so because you knew she would not let you. You had not known the princess long—had been avoiding her so she and Kit may spend time to get to know one another—but you knew she would make a great friend. Chelina was loyal and kind. And Kit was correct; she had the makings of a great queen. You could only hope the prince her parents would choose for her was kind and loyal as she was. Or the prince they would choose was a duke instead.

She deposited the cup and saucer on the table beside you. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“What for?” you asked.

“For your kindness to me despite what my uncle had done to you.”

You gave a smile, heart clenching at the sad tone of her voice. “It was not your fault. You must not burden yourself with his sins.”

If she were trying to smile, it ended looking much like a grimace.

“Would it be amiss if I were to ask you to be my friend?” you asked her.

You watched the stunned look at her face before it softened into one of graciousness. “I would be honored to call you my friend, Y/N,” she said

Your smile turned brilliant, as did hers. There was an instant camaraderie in the both of you. “I promise I shall write to you when you leave. I hope my letters will make do until I am well again to travel.”

“I shall look forward to them.”

You talked of other things for the rest of the day, learning that there were similarities between the two of you. She would have loved to travel if given the chance to and you felt the passion she had for music in the way she spoke of it. She talked of other personal matters, thoughts and ideas she had not shared to anyone except to you, her new friend. You, in turn, shared your other secrets that were unknown to Louis or to anyone else. You conversed as though you were old friends, and as the day went on did you realize that the princess had never been given the chance to become this animated with anyone else.

Your conversation was only interrupted when the royal physician arrived. Princess Chelina bid you farewell—almost reluctantly, you noticed—and left with a promise to show you her kingdom when you were to go there.

Kit arrived for dinner the same time as he had everyday for the past week.

“Did you know they were leaving tonight?” you asked as soon as he sat on his chair.

He did not need elaborating because there were only a handful of people who were bound to leave the palace that night. “Yes. It was decided when we talked to them a week past. The seas would be calm for them to travel safely.”

“Does Louis know?”

He paused. “No, I do not think so.”

You frowned. Surely, Louis would have heard talks of the Zaragozan royals’ leaving that evening. He would be privy to some gossip as he could charm anyone he wished.

“I heard you talked with Chelina earlier today.” Kit said as he took notice of the vase that held his daily floral pickings. You had not thrown any of the flowers he had given you, combining his old pickings with the new ones you had received earlier today.

“Yes, we both apologized to each other.” You replied distractedly, mind resolute on the matter. “Kit, Louis does not know she is leaving?”

He shook his head as he turned to you. “No. If he had, he would have mentioned it.”

“It will break his heart.” You almost saw how it would devastate him.

“I know.”

“He will be the surly one now.” And how unusual of him to be so!

“I know.”

“He would grumble and be insufferable about it.” Given how peeving he already was, it was no question how much more grumbly he would become.

“I know.”

You directed your grimace at him. “Kit, I cannot believe how nonchalant you are about this. He is your cousin. Have compassion on the man who is about to have his heart broken.”

He sighed, looking ruefully at you. “Forgive me, my love. You must know that I do care for him. Will you believe me if I said I had tried all that I could to convince her parents that he will suit Chelina despite his lack of royal title?”

You sobered. It was wrong of you to assume Kit did not care for his cousin. You sighed as well, apologetic. “I only worry for him. You know how much I love Louis despite how vexatious he could be.”

He took your hand and kissed it. “Of course. You are each other’s dearest friends. But the King and Queen of Zaragoza are resolute. They only want her to marry royalty. I could only do so much in my power.”

You did not doubt of his words. Chelina had said as much during your conversation earlier that day. And you knew Kit, knew he would resort to pleading if he had to, for the sake of his loved ones’ happiness.

You curved your hand on his cheek and felt the prickling of a stubble that was forming on his chin. You had become bold in touching Kit, dashing propriety for the sake of comfort. You and he always sought each other after the end of every day and had been inseparable since. “I’m sorry I’m being churlish. I cannot help but worry for him. I haven’t seen him in love but now that he has, he’s chosen the forbidden one.”

“Our love was forbidden as well but the world has conspired to bring us together after it tore us apart.” He smiled and you ran your thumb against his lips. He gave it a little kiss. “But her parents are set on their decision. They cannot be swayed. I can only hope they will choose right for her.”

You nodded. One could only hope for the time being. You smiled at him, smoothing the tired lines beside his beautiful eyes. “How was your day?”

He leaned into your palm. “Quite the same. More matters that needed seeing. The miners are trickling back to their mining village and will be hard at work soon. Our trade with Prince Frederick’s kingdom is slowly coming to fruition. The trial is also progressing as it should.”

You smiled at his accomplishments then bit your lip when a thought occurred to you. “If I take up your time that you can use for business, I would understand—”

“No,” he said as he shook his head. “Never. I always look forward to the time I would be spending with you.”

“Kit…”

“I finish quicker whenever I think of sharing my evenings with you.”

“But still—”

He raised an amused brow at you. “Is this your way of saying you’ve grown tired of my presence?” he joked, grin impish.

You chuckled at the unexpected joke. Now, you saw how he and Louis were related. “Oh, no! Never! I would never tire of you. I would always want to be in your presence. And you are far less vexing than your cousin. I find he speaks a lot. I would rather have you than him or any other person after a long day.”

“Good. I would hate to compete against someone for your attention.” He kissed your palm again. “I am a jealous man, my love. I do not think I would take kindly to the other person who vies for your time and affection.”

“Then you are in good luck because there is no one else but you.” you told him with a smile.

The smile that came upon his face was beautiful and splendid.

When Louis arrived, there was nothing on his face that told you he had any idea of the princess and her family’s imminent departure. He only appeared his jolly self, bearing with him a tray of tea tins and a steaming pot of hot water. His entire demeanour was one of blissful ignorance and you loathe to be the source of his heartache. You kept silent on the matter.

Louis would understand, you thought, convincing yourself that you were only acting in his best interest. The charming duke had been understanding before with your predicament. How different would this be?

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ava-kedavra · 2 years

Text

Wayward Devotion part fifteen: realize

Pairing: Ikaris x Reader

Summary: interrogations are hard, okay? You really can’t fuck with the Hilbert space, but we do get some flashbacks. The timeline is complicated so buckle up as you read through. Also we end on a little bummer, sorry folks.

Words: 2001

“Where do you wanna start?” Bucky is the first to break the silence, looking to you.

You shrug, “fuck if I know,” you’re blunt with it.

How do you start an interrogation that involves years of deception and kidnapping? You really didn’t know.

“I can try and explain,” Fitz offers, fidgeting with his hands in front of him nervously, “last year we had to save the world.”

“We’ve done that a few times too,” Sam responds curtly, crossing his arms, “cut to the chase.”

“In order for us to do that,” Fitz continues, “we needed to travel through time.”

“Again,” Bruce points out, “that’s nothing new for us.”

You shudder at the mere mention of time travel, prompting Ikaris to place a hand on your shoulder. Instinctively you lean into him, and give him a small smile.

“What does it have to do with me?” You speak up.

“We figured out how to travel through our timeline,” Fitz starts again, “just not others.”

“Interdimensional time travel,” You say and Fitzsimmons nods.

“Explain the connection,” Ikaris cuts to the chase next to you.

“Y/N,” Fitz looks directly at you now, “you were our first mission as a SHIELD team. Do you remember what happened after we found you?”

“I worked in a lab,” you furrow your eyebrows, trying to recall specifics, “I can’t remember the name of it though.”

“Well no worries,” the girl in front of you with a lab coat says smoothly as she points to various instruments, “we’ll be able to test what you know and don’t.”

You nod along, looking at a specific bench with lots of blueprints, noticing an equation scribbled out on a sheet of paper. You pick it up, reading over the multiple lines of arithmetic, grabbing a pen on instinct and scribbling on the sheet.

“Hey hey no no no,” The man next to her grabs the paper from your hand, “that is not for your eyes! I doubt you even know what the equation is fo-” he trails off though as he looks at your marks, eyes wide.

You shrug, “simple fix.”

He shakes his head, bewildered, “no, not a simple fix.”

He shakes the paper in front of the girls face, “Jemma look, she fixed it!” He turns to you, “I’ve been working on this since I was 13.”

“And you were doing it wrong,” you deadpan before walking over to the microscope and taking a look.

You don’t notice the two sharing a look at your discovery, baffled that you were even able to comprehend his writing.

“So you know how to study quantum physics, and nothing else?”

You shrug, “science comes naturally to me.”

“I think we could use you on our team,” the agent you spoke to earlier is at the door, clearly the leader.

“I think I want to figure out who I am,” you scoff, “and who you guys are.”

“I’m Phil Coulson,” he sticks his hand out, “an agent of a secret government organization. I run a small group of agents that travel around the world answering calls that local law enforcement can’t deal with.”

“So what am I? Your first case?” You tilt your head at him, “do you recruit everyone or am I special?”

“So far we’re two for two,” the guy mumbles, but Jemma elbows him in the side.

“The spectral theorem was off,” You recall, “fucking with the Hilbert space.”

“Can’t fuck with the Hilbert space,” Bucky says, thoroughly sarcastic.

“You solved the most complex equation I have ever laid my eyes on in thirty seconds,” Fitz says, “which solved every problem we had while traveling through dimensions.”

“You didn’t remember that?” You ask, confused.

Fitz shakes his head, “we lost the blueprint with your notes when the Bus blew up.”

“The what blew up?” Barnes asked, confused.

“It was our mode of transportation,” Jemma explains, “an older model of a helicarrier.”

“And our home during that time,” you add on softly.

“When was that?” Phastos asks.

“When shield fell, right?” You look over to Jemma who nods.

“So the end of 2014,” you inform Phastos, before adding, “A few days later Coulson and I located Loki’s scepter.”

“And I joined the Avengers.,” you add on softly.

Flashes of Natasha beside you going through empty halls fills your mind. Your heart pangs, but you swallow, nodding for Jemma to continue.

“We lost any hint of the right equation,” Jemma divulges, “but we knew when you fixed it in the first place.”

“When we went back in time to fight the Chronicoms-”

“The what?” You cut Fitz off, confused.

“Chronicoms,” he repeats, “synthetic robot-like race of beings. We went back in time to stop them from erasing S.H.I.E.L.D. from existence.”

“Why did they want to do that?” Ikaris asks.

“They wanted to establish Earth as their home base,” Jemma explains solemnly.

“Fuck,” you lean back in your chair.

“We had the upper hand though,” Fitz assures, “I studied something called the time stream.”

The time stream? What even is that?

“That’s a myth,” Bruce scoffs, but sits up straighter, “right?”

Fitz shakes his head, “We got a copy of it.”

“What is a time stream?” Bucky cuts in to ask.

“It predicts the future,” Fitz states.

“How?” Sam prompts.

“It calculates the likelihood of things to happen in the future based on past actions,” Fitz clarifies, “we were able to quantify our success rate based on our actions.”

You scrunch your eyebrows, “we need to break down a timeline,” you tilt your head to the ceiling, “Rosalind, pull up a whiteboard.”

An hour later, you’re updated to the last few years apart from Fitzsimmons.

“So the Chronicoms have been on Earth longer than we have?” Phastos asks, pointing at the timeline you had created hovering over the conference room table.

“Enoch and who?” You’re looking at Fitz for the answer. It pinged the two highly advanced individuals that weren’t quite robots as being on Earth for 30,000 years.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs, “they were sent to study the human race. They were called the anthropologists of their kind.”

“So you, Jemma and Enoch sent yourselves off into a distant star system last year to plan to defeat these things that are coincidently Enochs' race?” You piece their story together slowly.

“I studied the time stream for years,” Fitz says, “we spent years planning, because, well because-”

“We’d be able to go back in time to right where we left,” Jemma finishes his thought, before taking a sip of tea.

You took a break an hour into the interrogation, knowing you’d need snacks and drinks to sort through all the new information thrown at you.

“But before we did that,” Fitz says, “we went back in time to get you.”

You scrunch your eyes at the information, “it gave you the exact outcome of everything?”

“Not exactly,” Jemma tells you, “it predicts the likelihood of future events.”

“And you used that information to fuck with the entire timeline we’re in,” you state bluntly.

“If we didn’t the entire Earth would be run by Chronicoms,” Fitz says, passionately, “humans would have ceased to exist.”

“We wouldn’t have let that happen,” Ikaris raises his voice.

“You wouldn’t have been able to handle it,” Fitz cut in, loud, “you can barely handle the aliens you’ve fought for years.”

“Hey now,” Sam cuts in, “let’s keep it civil.”

“Why me?” You ask quietly.

There’s a pause, before Fitz speaks carefully, “It was between you or Phastos,” he admits, “there was a hindrance in acquiring, but with a higher rate of survival if we were able to get you into the future and have you solve the equation.”

“You mean Ikaris,” Phastos says with a scoff.

You squeeze Ikariss’ hand as Fitz hesitates to answer.

“Ikaris was a large factor,” Jemma slowly says, “and it had to be accounted for.”

Ikaris slams his fist on the table abruptly, “so you faked her death?”

The two are silent, which is enough of an answer.

“How?” Ikariss’ voice is low, and you can tell he’s trying to control his anger. You reach over and grab his clenched fist from the table, relaxing it in your hand.

“After studying the timestream we found the perfect opportunity,” Jemma explains.

“You said this thing only predicted the future,” Sam points out.

“If you travel to the past point in time,” Bruce speaks up, “that time period will then be your future.”

“How did you fake her death?” Ikaris repeats himself louder.

“We didn’t do it alone,” Fitz says, almost admitting the information in a way.

“You had the robot help you,” Bucky clarifies, “right?”

“Yes, Enoch helped us,” Fitz answers, before taking a deep breath, “we created a life model decoy, but we sold everything with the power of illusions.”

“You’re saying you have magic powers now too?” Sam is the first to speak.

Wait.

Jemma shakes her head solemnly, “that’s not what he’s saying.”

“Oh my god,” you gape at the two scientists in front of you, “are you fucking serious?”

Phastos stands, pushing himself away from the table, “I don’t believe you.”

“We didn’t want to-” Fitz tries to defend himself, but you put your hand out.

“Shut the fuck up Fitz,” you snarl, “you manipulated her.”

“Are you saying Sprite created the illusion of Y/N’s death?” Ikaris asks with a low voice.

“She was willing to help-” Fitz starts again, but Bucky cuts him off.

“The kid on their team?” He looks at Sam who nods his head.

“So Sprite knew Y/N wasn’t dead?” Ikaris asks, hand turning to fists and eyes starting to shine. You place your hand over his clenched hand close to you, closing making him release the fist.

“Sprite didn’t know,” Jemma interjects quickly as if trying to diffuse the situation, “we altered her memory immediately after.”

“With the same tech you used on Y/N?” Phastos interrogates, thoroughly mad.

“That doesn’t make it better,” you insist, squeezing Ikaris’ hand in yours, “you still used her.”

“We didn’t use her,” Fitz says with a louder voice, “she knew exactly what she was doing.”

“That’s fucked up,” Bucky states before he looks over to you, “want me to kill them now?”

“Woah woah woah,” Fitz interjects with his hands up, “you can’t kill us for this.”

It happens so fast that when your eyes open from blinking, Ikaris has Fitz pinned by the neck against the wall, “can’t I?” Ikaris seethes into Fitz face, eyes ablaze.

“Fitz!” Jemma screams, standing up quickly, but one look from Bucky has her sitting back down.

You’re up in an instance after, gripping his bicep tightly, “Ikaris stop,” you choke out, heart racing.

“They did this to you,” he squeezes his hand tighter and you hear Jemma sob behind you.

“Let go,” you trail your hand down to his fingers and pull, “now.”

He releases his fingers with a ragged breath and Fitz drops with a thump.

Jemma drops to her knees as you pull Ikaris away from the now unconscious Fitz. Without a word you pull him out of the room with a shaky hand, mind racing with anxiety as you make your way to your room.

Your hands shake as you try to open the door. Ikaris gently places his hand over yours and turns the door slowly.

As soon as he closes it you sob, throwing your arms around his shoulders and stuffing your wet face into his neck.

He lifts you up immediately, kissing the side of your forehead, “I know love, I know.”

He sets himself on the edge of your bed with you in his lap as he rubs up and down your back, “let it out.”

“Thi-is” you hiccup from sobbing and your voice is muffled in his neck, “fucking su-ucks.”

He knows what you said though, “we’ll figure it out love,” he smooths down your hair and kisses your temple, “and everything will be okay.”

YAY! I updated woohoo. this was super hard to write so I really hope it makes sense lol

#marvel fic #eternals #eternals fanfiction #ikaris fanfiction #waywarddevotion #ikaris x reader #marvel x reader #ikaris angst #ikaris imagine #ikaris x you #my writing #richard madden x y/n #richard madden fanfiction

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luvinescent · 5 months

Text

Stealing Time

Pairing: Modern!Robb Stark x fem!Reader

Summary: Weddings should be an event full of joy and happiness for everyone involved. Especially for the bride and groom, who are the main focal point of it all. So, what is the reason for celebrations if they both have gone missing?

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v, dirty talk, etc.

Word count: 3933

Additional: M/H/N stands for Maid of Honors Name.

A soft melody of a strong quartet could be heard through the air like a soft breeze as more guests continued to arrive. The venue was decorated with fairy lights that cascaded down, a crystal chandelier in the middle of it all, creating an inviting and dreamy atmosphere. The celebratory music pulsated on the dance floor, enticing visitors to sway and swirl in a joyful celebration. The air was filled with laughter and lively discussions that mixed with the sound of glasses clinking as toasts were being offered in honor of the newlyweds.

The only problem was that neither one of them were present in the room.

Catelyn Stark, mother of the groom, stood scanning the room next to the wedding planner— a young girl who looked to be on the verge of pulling out her hair. Catelyn could hear the small anxious mutters of “we’re off schedule now” as the girl kept analyzing the clipboard she held in her hand. Excusing herself from the girl and her husband, Catelyn went towards the hallways connecting to the venue. She was stopped in her travels by a distant relative on her husbands’ side, smiling at the old man.

“Catelyn!” he greeted heartily. “Where is that boy of yours? I haven’t seen him or the new Mrs.”. He let out a great laugh, holding onto his rounded beer belly for support. Catelyn returned the laugh, nodding at his question, “I was just about to go get him. I’ll be right back”.

She turned around; the sound of her heels clicking on the shiny floor echoed, causing any guests in her path to quickly shift aside. Catelyn walked with a confident stance, her chin up, shoulders back, and a big smile covering her face. A smile that was very deceiving and Jon Snow knew this when she came faced with him.

“Where is your brother?”

He stared wide eyed at her, caught off guard by her presence and her question. His face was a ballet of nervousness, revealing the false confidence he was trying so hard to keep up. “I-I, uh… I don’t know...”, Jon shrugged his shoulder, wincing a little at the look she gave him. Catelyn smacked her lips, grabbing a hold of Jons ear, “Don’t lie to me. Where is Robb? The nerve of that boy! Disappearing at his own wedding, and you covering for him. I thought I raised you both better than this!”. The entire time, the bride’s maid of honor had stood next to Jon, witnessing him get a scolding from his mother, but Catelyn could care less about his embarrassment. Before Catelyn could continue her interrogation, she was stopped by the sound of a familiar voice within her distance. “Have you seen Y/N?”.

Turning around, Catelyn saw the mother of the bride asking a family member before she turned and saw her. “Oh, Cat!”, the mother rushed towards her, “Have you seen my daughter? I can’t find her anywhere”.

Putting back on that wide smile, Catelyn turned her head to Jon and the maid of honor. “What a coincidence. I can’t seem to find my son either.”

The two looked like deer’s caught in headlights. Both their words jumbled out fast, inaudible to the human ear. Thinking fast, M/H/N leaped into action, her words both a hasty attempt and holding a somewhat truth to them. “Y/N went to go change from her wedding gown to her reception dress”. Jon nodded vigorously in agreement at her explanation, “A-And Robb wanted to change his shoes”. M/H/N whipped her neck and gave Jon a glare, his add on not helping as Robb did not bring extra shoes. Y/N’s mother did not have time to question any of what they said—being brisked away to go greet a great aunt.

Catelyn stood in front of the two adults once again. She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by their statements.

“Y/N went to go change?”

“Yes”, M/H/N said instantly.

“And Robb went to go change his shoes?”

“Yes”, now it was Jon.

“…and they went together?”

“…yes”, they both replied. Humming to herself, she continued observing them, knowing very well they were hiding something. “How long ago did they leave?”. They once again exchanged looks with one another, face flushed with embarrassment, “Uh, not that long ago…they’ll be here soon”. Catelyn’s skepticism deepened, her eyes darting from M/H/N awkward performance to Jon’s increasingly guilty expression. Letting out a sigh and rubbing her temples, she turned to return to the party, “Fine”.

With one hand tangled in his auburn curls, you panted against Robb’s lips, “mm you’re insane”. Robb chose to ignore your words, his lips choosing to instead attack your neck and his fingers gripping hard on your thigh— surely to leave bruises come morning. Craning your neck back for more easy access, you tried reasoning, “they’re probably looking for us now—“. You couldn’t even finish your sentence, his cock having thrusted into your walls so deep it left you gasping for air, “f-Fuck, Robb!”

He groaned against your neck, his hips moving in rhythm against yours, “Who cares what they’re doing when I get to have you like this to all to myself”. You almost bit your tongue when his hand slipped between the two of you, fingers rubbing at your sweet spot, “Fuck, I love it when you moan my name”.

It was almost close to an hour ago when your maid of honor took you to change out of your wedding dress into your reception dress. Coming out of the dressing room, you were met with both your newly brother-in-law and newly husband. While M/H/N and Jon engaged in some conversation about the band arriving soon, Robb and you took to wrapping each other up in arms. With a huge grin on his face, he planted small kisses all over your face, “My gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, wife”. Laughing at how his stubble tickled against your face, you laid your palm up against his cheek, “Aye, watch the makeup”, quickly giving him a kiss on the lips before pulling away and looking into his blue eyes, “but thank you my very handsome, good-looking, very very very attractive husband”. You two shared a moment of silence and intense gaze before you both broke out in giggles, capturing each other’s lips in one another, moving tendering and deeply. Pulling away, Robb stared down at you, both love in his eyes but also a hint of something else.

“You know you really do look gorgeous. You look equally as beautiful in this dress as you did in your wedding dress”. You thanked him once again but gave him a puzzled look when he said he had other opinions, however.

“And what other opinions are those?”, you said, smiling while waving at a cousin who just entered the building. Turning back to Robb, you noticed the way his eyes had slightly shifted in emotion; something more carnal behind them. Bending down his head towards your ear, he whispered softly, “If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have you naked with my head between your thighs”. His voice brought chills up your spine as he blew a soft gust of air on your earlobe before going back to height. Biting your lip and playing with his tie, you titled your head to the side and chuckled softly “You would, huh?”. His only reply was a nod, watching your every move like hawk and gulping as your fingers started to trail along his neck now. Robb was being unfair; he knew just how much his words had an effect on you. But yours did too. Bringing him down by his tie, you’d thought best to return his teasing—fighting fire with fire.

Slowly, you leaned up, “…I want you inside of me. I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do right now”. You could hear his breath hitch behind his closed mouth. Both of you were once again stuck in an intense stare down, this time only desire and want in your gazes. You were quick to fix yourself up, distancing yourself a bit from Robb and plastering on an innocent smile as more guests arrived, “Hi. Thank you for coming”. You snickered to yourself; feeling Robbs eyes on your back as he hadn’t moved a single inch from his spot. Jon and M/H/N ended their conversation and turned to face you both, nodding their head in the direction of the main area, “Alright, let’s get going”.

You took one single step before Robb came up behind you, grabbing you by your forearm and pushing you towards his chest. “Actually”, he started, “Y/N told me her dress is bothering her”. M/H/N had stepped up, examining you from head to toe, “Oh, let me help— “. Robb had interrupted her by raising his hand and shaking his head, “No, it’s fine. I got it. Besides, we want to spend some quiet time together, don’t we babe?”. Looking up at him, you quickly assessed the situation and nodded along, “R-right, yeah. We’ll be right back. You guys go and have fun. Who cares about us anyways.”

Jon and M/H/N didn’t have time to argue back— the new couple running down the halls of the building, hand in hand with laughter being echoed throughout it. Jon tsked his tongue, shouting at his brother and sister-in-law who were still in view, “What do you mean who cares about you guys?! This is your wedding!”. They both turned to flip Jon off, turning the corner and disappearing to the next connecting hall. Sighing, Jon rubbed his face as M/H/N came to stand next to him in silence.

“You know there was nothing wrong with her dress”. “… Yeah”.

And that’s how you found yourself with Robb in some random office room in the building of your wedding reception. Robb’s patience was running low as he pushed you up against the wall and against the corner of what some seemed to be some bookshelf. Both your lips hungrily going at each other very frantically. A loud moan was swallowed by his mouth when his fingers went down, pushing your panties to the side and starting to play with your wet folds and opening. Wasting no time, you trailed your hands down towards his belt, quickly trying to undo it. Robb pulled away entirely from you, using the distance to unbutton a bit of his dress shirt and to take off his belt. Breathing heavily, you grabbed him back down by the neck for another kiss, biting his lip and sucking on his tongue. Pulling away, you raised an eyebrow at Robb with a smirk present on your face and his lips darkened and wet with saliva, “I’m almost positive this kind of tradition is reserved for tonight. You know, after the reception, not during”. Robb laughed slightly, pushing up against you and grabbing a hold of your thigh, wrapping your leg around his waist while the other stood for balance. His other hand was used to bunch up the fabric of your white party dress and to pull down one of its straps. “What can I say”, he bit along your neck, “you’re just so damn beautiful. So damn sexy. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold myself back when I saw you walking down that aisle”. His lips returned to yours. This kiss was messy with teeth almost clashing and tongues fighting. Both your hands were everywhere they could be felt; his on your thighs, ass, hips, breasts, and yours on his chest, neck, and back. Pulling away, Robb looked at you from head to toe and gave you a teasing smile, “And what’s all this?”. With both your body movements and clothes shifting, Robb had finally taken noticed of the white lace lingerie you had underneath the entire time of both your wedding dress and your reception dress. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a pointed look, “It was supposed to be for tonight. Way to ruin the surprise”. He pouted mockingly at you and let out a small chuckle, kissing your forehead before his previous lustful look returned, “We can keep it on for now. And for tonight, I’ll just pretend it’s my first time seeing it”.

The way he spoke and stared at you had sent something straight to your burning core and had made you shifted closer to him unconsciously. “Such a gentleman”, you spoke running a thumb along his bottom lip and started kissing him again. With his belt already undone, it only took a few seconds to push down his clothing layers just enough to free his cock. As a brief warning, sliding your panties to the side, he slid his tip through your wet folds for a couple seconds. The whine you let out was all he needed before he pushed entirely inside you. You gasped loudly and screwed your eyes shut as Robb gave you a few seconds to adjust to the sudden fullness. Shaking your head, you bit down on your lip, “Don't be gentle with me—I like it when you're rough”. Robb wasted no time, gripping your thigh and fucking deeply into you, “Ah, fuck”, he moaned out, “you feel so fucking good. My good girl. My fucking wife”. He moved his lips along your collarbone, groaning and biting down. “Mm, fuck” you muffled out as your pussy clenched around his hard cock with every thrust he made. Robb took a second to look down, watching the way you took him in and your sleek and arousal that coated him every time he reentered. He was in heaven. Looking back up, you stared at Robb whose pupils were dilated in rapture with a little sweat coating his forehead. You probably looked the same to him as well. Your standing leg was starting to lose balance, causing you to slightly shift. Robb was quick to grab a hold of you, causing the tip of his cock to hit your most sensitive spot and just what he was looking for. “Hmm!”, you moaned out, “fuck Robb, right there!”, you truly felt like you were seeing stars. He started to fuck into you even faster and harder, increasing his movements, your pussy clenching even more, indicating your release. Eyes rolling back, you let your head fall back against the wall as you let out a mixture of curse words, moans, and Robbs’ name. Your body filled with warmth and pleasure, trembling as Robb held onto you and continued trying to reach his own climax. His movements were starting to get sloppy; you knew he was reaching his dissolve soon. However, he had to stop his movements abruptly; the doorknob to the room shaking vigorously.

Despite having locked the door beforehand, it was Robb’s natural reflex to reach over and hold onto the knob. At the same time doing so, he had let out a groan, and you a squeak as he slightly pushed you with his body. You were caught off balance but were able to hold onto the corner of the bookshelf, giving Robb a glare while he raised his finger up to his lip.

“Is somebody in there?”

Both your eyes widened in mutual shock; mouths agape as you two exchanged a horrified glance. You both recognized that voice as Robb’s Aunt Lysa.

She started banging harshly on the door now, “I know that someone is in there. I can hear you! This is a private event! If the cops need to be called, I have no problem- “.

“It’s me Aunt Lysa”, Robb spoke out, slightly cringing. Your face was flushed red; both because of your current activities and because of shame. Looking down, Robb’s left hand still had your thigh wrapped around his waist and his cock still buried inside you.

“Robb?”, Lysa questioned, “Is that you? Your mother has been looking everywhere for you! What are you doing in there?”

Robb gave you a once-over before clearing his throat, “I’m just…changing”. Your grip on the shelf was losing itself, causing you to readjust and move — which caused you to slightly sink down onto Robb’s cock. He was quick to bite his lip to stop the moan coming from his mouth, almost drawing blood in the process. Robb knew you too well and covered your mouth with his hand, knowing you would do the same. The only probably was that he wasn’t as quick.

“Now, hold on,” Lysa loudly said from the other side of the door, “I can hear another person in there and it sounds like a woman. Robb Stark you may be my nephew but I swear to God if you’re doing what I think your doing - “

“It’s me Mrs. Arryn”, you finally spoke out too. There was a moment of silence from the other end before Lysa started speaking again, “Oh, Y/N. Of course… Your mother was also looking for you…”. There was some awkwardness to her tone as you tried your best to clean up the situation, “I’m just changing too. Robb’s helping me”. Another awkward silence passed, “Of course he is…”. You and Robb gave each other a side glance; it was clear she didn’t believe you two and knew what you two were really doing. “Well”, Lysa began, “I best let you two get back to uh…changing…oh, um, where are the bathrooms?”. Robb was the one to answer her question, “On the other side of the building”. With a quick thank you and goodbye, you could hear the distant sound of her heels from the other side before she was gone entirely.

Turning back to Robb, you slapped his chest, groaning into your hands, “Ughhhh, that was so embarrassing”. He only laughed, making you peek at him from the gaps of your fingers. “What are you laughing at? You heard her; our parents are looking for us, so we better go”. Robb’s only response was to kiss you sloppy, pushing back once more inside you. You gasped into his mouth, his tongue playing with yours. Robb then pulled out of you completely, making you whimper from the sudden emptiness. Grabbing you by the forearm, he dragged you towards the desk in the room, bending you over it, pushing your dress up and your panties down— exposing yourself fully to him. He caressed your ass before smacking it hard; making you huff, “Let them wait a few more minutes”, his fingers played along your glistening folds. Standing up behind you, he pushed himself back into you, thrusting in, and out, and in again. Each time rougher than the other as he stretched out your cunt. Grabbing ahold of your hair and arching your back for him, he spoke into your ear, “This is our special day, isn’t it?”. Your only answer was a loud moan, his fingers being placed in your mouth to suck on. “Besides, I’m not fully done with you”.

About twenty minutes later (some of which took up of M/H/N fixing your makeup and concealing your bite marks), you and Robb entered the main room holding arms. Guests were raising their glasses up to you in cheers— some already clearly starting to get tipsy. A close friend of yours came up to you both, hugging you and giving you your congrats while Robb shook hands with her boyfriend. Once they pulled away and moved aside, you both had clear sight across the room of the one person who was looking for you two the most: Catelyn Stark. To make matters worse, she was also conversing with her sister; both whispering and giving you two the side eye.

“Crap” both you and Robb said in unison, watching Catelyn with her wrath make her way towards you. Your sight was cut off by the wedding planner standing stressed and tired in front of you, “Okay, we can get back on schedule if we just follow with the original plan. Bride, it’s time for the father-daughter dance”. Your ears perked up at the familiar sound of the music you had chosen for this occasion and turned to see your dad already on the dance floor. Turning back to Robb, you gave him a sheepish smile, “Would you look at that… gotta go”. He was quick to grab a hold of your hand, “You can’t leave me. You vowed to be with me through anything”. Pulling your hand back, you raised both hands up in defense, “I had my fingers crossed when I said that”.

Seeing his pouted puppy look made you laugh, quickly blowing him a kiss, “I’m kidding. I love you”, turning to go dance with your father. Robb didn’t even have to turn around— already feeling his mother’s presence behind him. Wrapping arms with him, many passersby would see the scene as a mother coddling her son. But Catelyn was actually pinching Robb’s side, and hard. “You are so vulgar I swear. At your own wedding Robb, really? You couldn’t wait until after?”, she spoke through gritted teeth.

Robb winced a little at the pain, but his eyesight was also focused on you. Smiling and laughing with your father. “Why are you getting only me in trouble? Y/N was equally in on it”. Catelyn could only roll her eyes at her sons’ immature response, “Please, knowing you and knowing her it was probably all your doing”. Staring up at him to continue her scolding, she stopped momentarily at the look in her sons’ eyes. Following his line of vision, she was meet with you. A tender smile graced Catelyn lips. Nothing short of captivating was the way he gazed upon you. His unspoken proclamation of love seemed to go beyond words, and his eyes radiated an undying commitment. “Are you happy?”, she asked Robb. The song was coming close to the end. Robb turned to face his mother, a stern look on his face and nothing but seriousness was his tone, “Yes. I am”. From the corner of his eye, Robb could see your father leading you to him. Standing up higher, Catelyn gave him a quick peck on the forehead, “Good. That’s all I’ve ever wanted”. You and your father came face to face with the both of them, Catelyn giving you a peck on the cheek and your father handing you over to Robb, “She’s all yours’ son,” he patted his shoulder, “take care of her”.

Robb led you to the dance floor where the band had started to play a slower and more romantic song. Swaying to the tempo, you spoke up, “So, was she angry?”. Robb let out a small chuckle, smiling down at you. “She was,” he began, “but she said she’d forgive us if we gave her a grandchild”. Staring at him agape, you slapped his chest with a small gasp, “She did not say that!”. Now you both were laughing. The world around you two seemed to fade into a soft blur as you moved, lost in the embrace of your love. Resting your head against his chest, you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I love you”, Robb spoke up, his hand tenderly placed on the small of your back. Sighing deeply, inhaling his scent and allowing yourself to bask in his warmth, both of you feeling safe in each other’s embrace, you let him know your feelings, “I love you too”.

Enjoying the moment's beauty, you both stayed in each other's arms as the music softly faded into the night. You both understood that this dance was only the start of an endless journey together.

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