#Agent Hood Mention | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wri0thesley · 1 month ago

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work health assessment - dottore x reader (nsfw, 4.8k)

you really need this job, and you're willing to put up with more than you should in order to get it.

cw: dub-con, dark content, medical kink, needles, mentions of drugging. reader is explicitly chubby and a virgin, afab (words such as 'breast' and 'cunt' used, but no pronouns). fingering, glove kink, mentions of forced prostitution. it's dottore!!

You’re trembling. You can feel your leg awkwardly twitching, a trapped nerve in your calf that makes you unable to sit still - and it only gets worse as the last applicant before you comes out with a face like thunder. The other Fatui agent stops and looks at you - he’s obviously higher up in the hierarchy than you are, wearing the trademark hood and red-trimmed coat of a Pyro agent. Somebody looking for a change of pace from combat, then, you suppose.

“You ought not to bother,” he spits out, vitriol in his tone - but you have been around other people enough to know that the vitriol is directed at the man sitting in the office and not at you. “He won’t care about how well-suited you are, any qualifications, any fucking scientific proficiency--”

The Pyro agent walks away still muttering under his breath; you think you hear something about how clearly graduating the Akademiya meant nothing in a place like this, and you feel an unfortunate pang of sympathy for him. He’s definitely far more qualified for this kind of work than you are. If Il Dottore is looking for an assistant, surely somebody who studied at the Akademiya is going to be a far better prospect than you--

You swallow. You need this role.

Everybody has been kind to you since The Fair Lady passed on. They knew you were one of her favourites, and they found work for you to do - even if it has been rather menial and trivial, it’s meant that you’ve kept receiving Mora, and been able to keep yourself afloat. Head above water. They’ve looked at you sympathetically for the past year - but this is the Fatui, after all, and you cannot expect to live on pity for the rest of your life. You need to make yourself indispensable to somebody else.

Heaven knows you’re not primed for combat, you think ruefully, as you look down at the soft curve of your hips and the plush of your thighs where they spread out against the chair you’re waiting on. You’re not clever enough to be an actual scientist underneath Dottore’s instruction, you don’t think; and you hadn’t liked the way that the Regrator had sized you up last time he’d seen you, enquiring after your salary and whether it was truly appropriate for the work you’d been doing around the Palace with that calm, sly smile on his face--

But administration? Handling The Doctor’s papers, filing things away, accounts and schedules and diaries? That is very much the kind of thing you can do, and the thing you did very well for Signora before she met with a shining blade. You grit your teeth and force yourself to think things through and get your words in proper order. The Doctor is not the kind of man who will be kind to you if you start stuttering or falling over yourself; he doesn’t suffer fools gladly, you’ve always been told--

Oh, it would be a step up though, wouldn’t it? To go from the employ of the eighth Harbinger to the second? You’d ordinarily never have dared entertain such a thing, but Pulcinella had sought you out amongst the Palace walls and patted your arm and given you a kind, fatherly smile as he’d told you that he thought you’d be a perfect fit for what Dottore needed.

The door to the office opens and there he is; tall, imposing, his gaze imperceptible behind the crow-like mask he wears at almost all times. Your breath catches in your throat. You’ve seen him, of course . . . but this close, and with nobody else around, he has a strange aura that makes you feel dizzy and nervous. Like a laboratory mouse being observed through glass. Slowly, his chin tips down, as if he’s looking you up and down, and then he makes an impatient gesture with one gloved hand.

“Come, then,” he says, in a low, cold voice. “The first thing to learn is not to keep me waiting.”

You’re clumsy getting up off the chair, still a little rattled by the way he looks and just how much he towers over you. The accoutrements he wears on his lab coat do not soften the effect; they give him the look of a too-large raven who is ready to peck your eyes out, making him seem all the more intimidating and all the wider - and considering he is a Doctor, a scholar . . . he’s not exactly lacking in the breadth department even without them.

His lip curls for a fraction of a second at the sight of you pulling at your clothes, rearranging yourself, even nervously reaching up to touch your hair to ensure that it’s in place - but then he motions you through the door and his face is blank once again.

His office is in complete disarray. It’s no wonder he needs an assistant, really; there are files all over his desk, spilling onto the floor. A few tables and chairs in other corners are just as full of ephemera and notes and other things you don’t want to think too hard on. The only things in this office that are meticulously clear and clean are a doctor’s examination bed pressed up against the wall and a tray beside it with an array of silvery instruments that glint cruelly in the snow-bright reflection from the windows. The lock clicks. You swallow again as Dottore motions for you to take a seat in front of his desk and he walks around to recline into his own.

His is old leather, wingback; more throne than chair, and he sits in it like a king observing one of his subjects in a way that makes you feel so small you can barely stand it.

“Well?” He asks you, and you squeak in alarm before your words start to careen out of you like a runaway train.

“I-- The Rooster told me you were looking for an administrative assistant, and you know that’s the same thing I did for the Fair Lady. I-I’m not scientifically-minded or anything, I’d be no help with your experiments - but maybe that’s a good thing, if I don’t know enough to properly even understand the documents I’m handling then I’m no risk with sensitive information--”

He raises one gloved hand to stop you in mid-flow. There’s that quirk of his lip again, as he steeples his fingers together and leans forward on his elbows to rest on the messy wood of his desk.

“My dear,” he drawls at you, “are you truly trying to get me to employ you by making a show of your own incompetence?”

A cold shiver down your spine. You need this role. You need something to get you out of the drudgery of the boring tasks you’ve been given, to get you away from Pantalone’s prying eyes, to give you some kind of purpose--

“I’m good at admin!” You tell him, your voice pitching high in your nervousness. “I’ve a head for figures, I’m organised, I’m discreet--”

“How’s your health?” Dottore asks, that slight curve to his lip not dissipating even a bit. “I can’t employ somebody who is unreliable, you see. I’m rather more of a workaholic than some of my compatriots, and I do so hate to be interrupted when I’m on the brink of a breakthrough.”

“It’s good!” You blurt out without thinking. It’s true; you’ve never had any issues with it. You had mandated checks every year with a doctor that Signora employed - she always made a point to say she wouldn’t make the Doctor do it, with a pinch to your cheeks and a lazy, indulgent smile. She liked her underlings to think her magnanimous.

“Mmm.” Dottore says. He regards you over his hands once more, before he says; “When I saw your application on the pile, I had already half a mind to take you on. The Fair Lady was always effusive in your praises, and I do indeed not want a little upstart who thinks they can replace me. You were right to think your lack of scientific knowledge would be a boon to me. My work is very delicate, you understand?”

“I understand entirely, Doctor,” you say, nodding enthusiastically. “I’m the soul of discretion, I promise.”

“Mmm,” he says, the noise not entirely convinced, but your toes have curled in your shoes and you can feel the fingers of hope crawling up your spine. “Despite that, you do not seem unintelligent. I don’t think I could bear having an idiot handle my files. You’re already well-versed in the politics of Zapolyarny and the way working for a Harbinger functions; I would not have to waste time doing too much training.”

“Not at all, My Lord,” you say, trying to smile despite the nerves that you can still feel tingling all over you. “I’d be extremely good at what you want me for, I promise.”

This wins a soft snort from him, as if you’ve said something very funny. You keep yourself as poised as you can, your spine straight, your face as sweet and open as you can manage. Signora always preferred you to be like this . . . in time, you suppose that you’ll learn what Dottore likes, but until then he doesn’t seem opposed to the same gentle demeanour that you’d perfected with the Eighth Harbinger.

“Nevertheless,” he says, “your physical condition . . .”

Your cheeks burn hot. You hope he is not referring to the curves of your body; you’ve never been particularly self-conscious about it - it’s rather the fashion in Snezhnaya to be soft, and you receive your fair share of admiring looks and propositions - but . . . you know that Dottore is not originally from your homeland, and there can be such strange stigmas in other lands--

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says to you, as if he’s read your mind. “In a purely biologically aesthetic sense, you’re very much a prime specimen. But looks can be deceiving, my dear, and before we finalise the employment I would like you to submit to a medical examination.”

Your eyes widen. You hadn’t prepared for him to ask for this; you try and run through in your head what he might want to check in this examination, but even as you do that you realise he has you caught. You need him to employ you, and he has as good as said that as soon as he’s declared you medically fit and able he’ll be able to officially do so. How bad can it really be, then? Let him poke and prod and walk out of this office with a brand new purpose. You swallow.

“Of course, My Lord,” you say, giving him a blank smile. “What would you like me to do?”

Dottore gives a pleased hum at your acquiescence as he stands up and walks towards the medical table.

“Obedient,” he says, approvingly. “That will serve you in good stead. Come here, if you please. For now, I’m simply going to listen to your heart and do a few quick reflex tests. The more . . . invasive tests will come afterwards. Please remove your topmost layer.”

You do not like the sound of ‘invasive tests’, but you allow yourself the briefest moment of a flinch before you follow his orders. The fur-lined cloak you wear is shed, and the soft knit cardigan follows suit. Seeing you’re wearing a blouse beneath that, Dottore clicks his tongue briefly.

“That too, I’m afraid,” he says. “I need to be able to place this device directly onto your bare skin.”

It takes another moment of steeling yourself, but the blouse follows your other garments until you stand shivering in your lace-trimmed camisole. You’re suddenly exceedingly aware of the generous curve of your breast within the silken cups of your brassiere, the bare skin of your collarbone, the plumpness of your shoulders - but Dottore, doctorly in the extreme, merely lets his gloved hands brush over them as he steers you to take a seat upon the examination table and presses the cool circle of his stethoscope against your chest.

The next fifteen minutes are boring but predictable. Dottore takes your vitals; your blood pressure, your heart-rate. He checks your reaction times with a little glowing light - he takes your temperature. You wrinkle your nose when he produces a syringe, but you have had blood taken before and you manage nothing more than a little flinch when you feel the needle slide into the crook of your elbow. He writes all of his findings down in a little black-covered ring bound notebook.

It is only when he closes the notebook that you finally let yourself relax; your shoulders to slump, the breath it feels as though you’ve been shudderingly holding on to finally dispelled.

“Do I meet your expectations, My Lord?” You ask him, and Dottore gives a small, considering noise before he looks back up from the notebook.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite finished yet,” he tells you, with a small smile. “If you’d please remove the rest of your clothing.”

Your eyes widen.

“I--”

“There’s a hospital gown for you,” he says, interrupting, reaching towards a lower drawer in the silver cart by the side of the bed. He pulls from its depths a pale blue, paper-thin concoction that you do not feel as though deserves the title of ‘gown’ - but Dottore has you at his mercy. If you refuse now, he simply won’t employ you - and who knows what might happen to you after that? You bite your tongue and repeat the mantra in your mind: what’s the worst that could happen? “I’ll turn whilst you change. Your underwear too, if you please.”

What’s the worst that could happen? You repeat it over and over as Dottore sighs when he turns around, as if he’s being very generous by making this small provision for your modesty and he doesn’t quite see the point. You put your clothes down onto the pile that’s been gradually growing and shrug yourself into the uncomfortable papery gown, perching primly on the very edge of the hospital bed when you’re done with your knees together.

You are terribly aware of just how naked you are beneath the flimsy covering when Dottore turns back around and gives you a slow once-over. There’s a lot of your bare thigh on display; the thin ties at the back of your neck you have done your best to fasten, but you’re also aware of cool air on the bare skin of your spine and the precarious position you would be in if he bid you to stand up and turn around. You press your thighs more fiercely together as if sheer force of will can make you less tortuously conscious of your bare sex, your missing underwear, the way your nipples have peaked in the cool air.

“Are you cold?” He asks, conversationally, as he comes closer to you - and your cheeks go hot all over as one gloved finger comes up and softly circles over the slight imprint of your nipple in the gown. You hiss through your teeth, but don’t say anything. “Your temperature was fine . . . so perhaps you’re just sensitive?”

He tips his head to one side as he considers it. He still has not removed the bird-like mask, but you have the fleeting impression that you’re being ogled by him. His other hand reaches up, and before you can make even a token attempt to slap him away, he is cupping the heavy fat of your breasts through the material, testing their weight in his palms.

“D-Doctor!”

“Yes?” He tilts his head again. “I simply have to get to grips with your body, my dear. This interest is strictly professional.”

“I-- this doesn’t seem necessary, My Lord Harbinger--”

“Believe me, it is. Unless . . . well, you do want me to employ you, don’t you?”

The last is said in a condescending tone that makes you very much sure that if you deny him, he will send you on his way and happily throw you to the mercy of whoever swoops down to feast upon his leftovers first. You remind yourself that it will be over soon; think of how this role will cement your place in the Palace as someone of use, and when Dottore’s thumbs swipe over your nipples you bite back the whimper that wants to tear from your throat.

“Mmm,” he says. “Very sensitive, indeed. Tell me when this hurts.” Still through the gown, Dottore uses thumb and forefinger to gently pinch your nipples. Against your will, you squirm on the hospital bed slightly, heat rising to your face as a low ache between your thighs makes itself known. He starts off soft, but gradually increases the pressure, until you blurt out;

“Th-that hurts!”

“Hmm?” He pinches a little harder and watches you in great interest as you flinch, giving a mean little twist before he finally releases the aching nubs of your nipples. “Yes. As I thought. Now, let me try without the obstruction--”

He reaches behind you and undoes the ties of the gown with one quick, fluid motion - so swift you barely have time to bring your hands up to cover the spill of your breasts, as protests die on your tongue.

“I don’t have time for prudery,” he tells you. “Show me.”

To your great horror, a shaking breath only a moment away from a sob comes trembling out of your throat - but you do as he asks, thinking once more of that job that is dangling over your head. Dottore seems to observe your naked chest for a moment, and then smiles sharp and cruel again.

“Lovely,” he murmurs, as he returns to touching them - kneading handfuls in those awful gloves, tugging at your nipples, rubbing circles around the areola until your over-sensitive body squirms. “Ah, these are nicely sized, aren’t they? And these . . .” Another pinch to your nipple, and this time you feel a tear slip from the corner of your eye unbidden, your throat clogged. “Such pretty little things. So responsive! I daresay the rest of your body has reacted just as nicely?”

“I--I don’t know what you mean, My Lord,” you say to him, although you have the mounting fear that you understand exactly what he means. Dottore chuckles.

“So far, you’re passing the physical examination with flying colours,” he says to you, voice low and cool and smooth. “Don’t disappoint me now, darling.” He pats the side of the examination bed. “Get yourself up here please. Feet flat, knees up.” He leers at you even through the mask as he finishes his order with two words that make your blood run cold. “Thighs apart.”

It almost pushes you over the edge. The thought of Dottore looking at you, so vulnerable, so close to naked (actually, you suppose when you move the gown will flutter to the ground and you will be utterly bare before him) - the idea of him having you entirely at his mercy . . . You’re suddenly all too aware that there is nobody waiting for you; no applicant after you, who might poke their head in rudely to see if Dottore is nearly ready for their interview. For all intens and purposes, Dottore could kill you and use you as spare parts and nobody would ever know--

“My patience is not neverending,” Dottore murmurs, drumming fingers on the leather of the bed. “You do want this, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you swallow back the fear. You have nothing else that is viable to do, really - you would never beat him to his door if you ran, you would be naked and afraid, you are entirely at his mercy. . . “S-sorry.”

A pleased noise at the apology. You force yourself to keep breathing as you manoeuvre your traitorous body - to your immense horror, you realise that the kneading and the pinching and the petting that Dottore lavished upon your chest earlier has had an effect between your thighs, and there is a definite dampness wetting the curls of your pubic hair. You squeeze your eyes shut so that you don’t have to see that damned bird mask looming down at you.

“There we are,” Dottore coos to you - fingers slide up your shins, rearranging them slightly until you’re put in exactly the position he wants. “Relax, now. Head on the pillow. This will perhaps be uncomfortable, but I shan’t hurt you on purpose. Ah, there we are. Very good.” You hesitantly settle flat against the leather, and for your obedience you are rewarded with a fleeting pat on your head, like a well-behaved little dog. “Oh, my.”

“I-- is the examination nearly over, Doctor?” You ask him, though you fear that you know the answer - and to answer your fears, Dottore lets out a chuckle that sounds like a creak.

“Oh, not yet,” he says, airily. “Relax, my dear. If you don’t, perhaps I ought to inject some kind of tranquiliser?”

“N-no,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to relax.”

“Very good. Ah.” He shifts again, and you hear the sound of the cart being moved. Your heart begins to rabbit at the thought of any of those silvery sharp instruments coming near the soft part of you nestled between your thighs, but Dottore simply pauses at the foot of the bed and once more observes you.

It’s been a while since he wrote in the notebook, you can’t help but note.

“You’re just as lovely here,” he says to you. “A perfect specimen, really. Very nice.” Very slowly, all the more terribly enhanced because you cannot see him, you feel Dottore bring his gloved finger to stroke down the plump slit of your labia. Your body tenses at the sensation. “You’re wet, too. Good. I’m going to help that along a little - this might be a bit cold, you can shiver if you need to--”

The clatter of the cart again - and then something thick and viscous and cool is being drizzled over your bare sex. You do indeed take in a deep breath, your nails digging into your palms at the unusual sensation.

“Wh-what is it?” You whisper, a thousand horrible thoughts flitting across your head - numbing agents, or oils designed to make you all the more sensitive, or any other kind of horrible concoction that the Doctor might have at hand - but he just laughs at you, as if you’ve told a very funny joke. His tone is condescending;

“Merely a lubricant, my dear. We are simply testing your health; your sensitivity, your reactions, how much you can take--”

He gently continues to stroke up and down the slit of your sex, working the lubricant against your cunt - paying particular attention, to your mortification, to the swollen nub of your clit. Of course, you’ve touched yourself - but to have someone else doing it! To have the Doctor, doing it like this!”

“You’re a virgin?” He asks you, with a note of surprise, and you press your lips tightly together because you cannot bear to say it out loud. Dottore chuckles. “Oh, you don’t need to answer that. I can tell from the way your greedy little hole is trying to suck me in even though it barely seems as though it will stretch enough to fit a finger in.” He clicks his tongue and lets out another low little laugh. “I should have guessed when you started panting and whimpering when I played with your nipples. You’re just darling, you know.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t think this is part of an ordinary medical examination,” you whisper, as Dottore’s finger prods testingly against the flutter of your hole. You hate that he’s right - despite how your mind is whispering poison, your body is only aware of how good it feels to be touched like this, by slow and practised and meticulous hands.

“And I am no ordinary Doctor, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“Please--”

Your next words are drowned out by the whine that falls from your lips as he slowly slides his finger into the hot tight tunnel of your sex. His gloves are still on; the texture makes you fight against the desire to wriggle as he crooks it inside of you, truly getting a feel for the pulsing walls around him.

“I’m sure you’re aware the Regrator has inquired about your contract,” he says to you, as he slowly begins to slide his finger out and then in again, the movement aided by the lubrication and your own slick. Your back arches, but you do not receive a scolding for it - Dottore’s voice has shifted just a semi-tone, thickened just a touch. “He’s thinking you’d make him a pretty penny if he loaned you out to some of his more discerning investors.”

The thought of the way that the Regrator looks at you flashes through your mind again, and you find yourself tearfully shaking your head.

“As well as being a prospect to indulge in himself,” Dottore continues, as if you have not responded. “Now. I’m sure you won’t want that, do you?”

“P-please,” you say, shaking your head. “No.”

Dottore lets out a satisfied exhale. A second finger prods interestedly at your entrance, and you try to force yourself to relax as he slides two of them inside instead. The stretch now is noticeable, and the muscles in your thighs jump. Two fingers, and you almost tell him that it’s too much - before you remember what it is that Dottore is telling you.

“Oh, very clever. I am not lying about needing an administrative assistant,” Dottore tells you, fingers pumping in and out of you now, curling against the pounding of your inner walls, the wet click of his fingers fucking into you echoing too loud in the room. You hate that you can feel yourself, wet and sticky and hot. You hate all the more that inside of you is growing a warmth you have never experienced, a tight ball of tension that makes you dizzy. “I am merely a man who believes in . . . multi-tasking. Dual purpose, if you will. I have found that sometimes I get . . . frustrated in my work, and one of the few ways I have found to expel some of that frustration lies in sexual gratification.”

Your face, hot. Your body, responding against your will. Your heart, pounding like a trapped animal. Dottore’s thumb swipes across your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with the practised assurance that only a doctor can truly embody.

“Your virginity is a variable I hadn’t quite counted on,” he continues, still working you over like your cunt is a puzzle that he needs to solver. You can barely concentrate on what he’s saying now, that ball of heat within you is so overwhelming. “But it’s hardly unwelcome to know I’ll get to shape you to my own desires, if you will.”

You can feel that you’re close; you can feel that if he just carries on a bit longer, if he just lets you get a little further, that ball will explode like fireworks in your head and warmth will spread through your body like a heating lamp on a cold Snezhnayan night. But he stops.

“So now you know the full terms,” he tells you, whilst you fight and lose against the instinct to try and hump your hips back to the gorgeous sensation of his hand on you. “Tell me, my dear. Do you still wish to be my assistant? Or do Pantalone’s plans sound more desirable? For a virgin, you’re being more than a little desperate - perhaps you like the idea of him sharing you out?”

“N-no,” you gasp out, shaking your head. Better the devil you know. Better the second Harbinger, and the same face, and the familiar walls of Zapolyarny Palace than beds of men you’ll never see again. “M-My Lord Harbinger, Dottore, Doctor, please--!”

He chuckles.

“Alright,” he murmurs, and he resumes fucking into you, the firm pressure on your clit, and before you know it you can feel yourself spasming around him with soft pleasured cries as your body is suffused in the warm glow of pleasure. Dottore fucks you on his fingers through the afterglow, the ebbing tide of your first orgasm at the hands of somebody else - before he abruptly stands and you hear the clack of his boots on the floor as he walks away, leaving you naked and shivering and gasping.

“Very well,” he says to you, and though you’re still staring at the ceiling you hear the smile. “I shall see you bright and early tomorrow, my dear. We’ll make a start on my next tests. For now . . .”

It all feels like a muddle in your head. You can’t remember what you’ve agreed to; Dottore’s words are so mired in meaning, and you’re an admin and not any kind of genius--!

But it’s too late. Dottore’s voice is lazy and indolent in a way you’ve never heard it be as he says to you;

“You’re dismissed.”

#writing #genshin impact posting #dottore smut #dub con for ts #dark content for ts #dottore x reader #not sfw #afab reader #medical kink cw

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arlana-likes-to-write · 1 month ago

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Happily Ever After

Next Part of Happily Never After

Warning: kidnapping, character death (not you), torture, mention of past abuse, cannon typical violence, angst with a happy ending, fluff, everyone needs a hug.

Word Count: 14.4K

Wanda was trying to keep calm and have a level head. It would do no one good if she were to have a breakdown. They were in the conference room waiting for Maria. Bucky was playing a round of Mario Party with her boys, and Natasha was pacing with her phone glued to her ear, speaking rapidly in Russian. She would have been able to understand her if her mind wasn’t spiraling. She picked up words like ‘mother’ and ‘missing’. She guessed the redhead was talking to Melina and updating her on your sudden disappearance.

Wanda began to bite her nails. If you were here, you would have grabbed her hand and stopped her. But you weren’t here. You were missing, and Wanda was freaking out.

The door opened, and Yelena walked in, followed by Maria and someone Wanda assumed was Steve. She’d only seen the man in pictures. “Boys,” Bucky paused the game. Why don’t we go to the cafeteria while the grown-ups talk?” Billy looked at the new additions and then back at Wanda.

“We aren’t leaving our mom,” Oh, Wanda loved his heart. Each day, he reminded her so much of Pietro. He always knew when something was bothering her.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Wanda said. Go with your brother and Bucky. I’ll come find you when we are done.” Billy was quick to hug her tight, and Tommy joined in. She needed a hug much more than she realized. She watched them leave. She was a little hesitant not to have them in her sight, but she knew Bucky would protect them.

“Wanda,” Maria said once the door closed. It’s good to see you again. It’s unfortunate to meet like this.” It was a brief meeting between her and the agent. You were invited to a gala in the city, and you introduced her to Maria. “This is my partner, Steve Rogers,” Natasha got off the phone, and everyone sat down. We will find her, I promise.”

“So you can confirm she’s been taken,” Natasha said. Steve nodded.

“As soon as you called Maria, we pulled up Y/n’s phone records,” he put a laptop on the table so Natasha, Yelena, and Wanda could see it and hit play.

A woman stood on the side of the road next to a smoking car. She began to flag down a passing car with a wave of her hand. Wanda recognized your car, stopping behind it, and you got out. You spoke with the woman before going to the hood and opening it. A cloud of smoke circled you, and you waved the smoke out of your face.

It happened quickly. Two men appeared in the nearby alley while you were bent over to look at the engine. The woman you were helping had a pipe in her hand and hit you in the back of your head. Before your body hit the ground, the two men caught you and dragged you down the alley. Steve closed the laptop. “Our team is tracking the vehicle and facial recognition as we meet here.”

“Her parents,” Yelena said. Where are they? They have to be behind this.” Before Maria could answer, the door opened again, making Wanda jump.

“Vision,” Wanda stared at her ex-husband. “What are you doing here?”

“I am so sorry,” Sarah appeared behind the man. “I told him this was a closed meeting, but he was persistent.”

“It’s fine, Sarah,” Natasha said. Your secretary nodded but narrowed her eyes at Vision before she left.

“I am sorry for interrupting,” he sat down in an empty chair and loosed the tie around his neck. “When I listened to the voicemail from the school, I knew something was wrong. I know Y/n wouldn’t leave our sons at school.” Wanda was having trouble processing everything that was going on. She watched her girlfriend get attacked and dragged into a van. Now, her ex-husband was showing genuine care for you.

“You hate her,” Natasha bluntly said. When did you start caring for her?” It was a valid question, and Vision looked offended by the accusation.

“I never hated her. We came to an understanding. Look,” he shook his head. “It’s not important. Is her sudden disappearance related to the Order of Protection?”

“Order of Protection?” Wanda questioned. “What are you talking about?” His eyes jumped on everyone in the room, hoping someone knew what he was talking about. Everyone stared at him. He cleared his throat.

“At the boys’ birthday party, she asked me how hard it was to get an Order of Protection in New York,” he spoke slowly. The party was four days ago. You went all this time without telling her. Wanda knew you were holding more back, but she trusted you to come with her. “This hypothetical order of protection was going involve a family member.”

“It has to be her parents,” Yelena said. “But all they’ve done is call her, right?” Maria sighed. Oh, Wanda hated the sound of it.

“When we find our best friend, remind me to slap her,” Wanda smiled at her dry humor. “I think we all need to take a trip to headquarters. We can catch you up to speed there.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A cup of water was forced to your lips, and you downed all of it. It was a relief for your dry throat. “Are you ready for some visitors?” You stayed quiet, knowing you had no choice in the matter. Tiffany opened the door. A man wearing a gray suit walked in, and his shaggy blonde hair was parted to the side. Black glasses rested on his face, which he took off and put into his suit pocket. A strange feeling started to bubble in your stomach. Was it in anxiety? Stress? Or recognition? The knock on your head was throbbing and making it difficult to think. He smiled as he spoke, “It’s an honor to be in your presence. My name is Alexander Pierce.”

“I know you,” you whispered. “You’re friends with Fury. You were at the gala when SHIELD was given a key to the city.” The man chuckled.

“I’m glad our men didn’t completely knock all your brain cells out,” Pierce walked behind you, but you kept your eyes trained on the ground. You were so tired. “Did our beautiful host tell you who we are?”

“HYDRA,” you answered. You figured it would be easier to comply. “I don’t understand what you want with me. I’m not an agent. If you want money, I can give it to you.” You felt his hands on your shoulders and squeezed them.

“I call it an unfortunate circumstance,” he said. SHIELD has something we want, and in exchange, they get you back. Simple.” So you were bait, used because of your connection with the man on top.

“Fury doesn’t make deals with terrorists,” Pierce chuckled, grabbed your throat, and forced your head back.

“I’ve been told he has a soft spot for you,” he squeezed your throat and cut off your air supply. “If he does not do exactly as I say, he’ll receive you in pieces at his doorstep,” you gasped for air as he removed his hand. “Get comfortable. We’ll see each other soon.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Oh, I’m going to fucking kill her,” Natasha paced. Maria explained the note that was left for you. Her team went through hours of security footage and found no one out of the ordinary. “I am going to kick her ass.” She stopped pacing and grabbed the back of the chair. Wanda, Natasha, and Yelena sat in a room at SHIELD’s headquarters while Vision took the twins home after much conviction on Wanda’s part. “Why didn’t she tell us? Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked Maria.

“I couldn’t, and she told me she would tell you.”

“She’s stubborn, sestra,” Yelena said. “I’ll be there to help kick her ass too. Wait until Mama finds out.” Wanda was ready to have words with you, too. But that anger was pushed down by fear and worry.

“What’s the next steps? How are you going to find her?” Wanda questioned.

“They took her alive,” Steve said. “That means they want something, so they’ll contact us,” It was meant to erasure her. They were lucky they didn’t find your body, but you were being used as a pawn, and Wanda hated that, too. There was a knock on the door, and it opened.

“Boss,” it was Clint. “Patrol officers found the car. Do you want me to take a team to investigate?” Maria nodded.

“Take Coulson and Wilson with you,” Clint saluted and smiled at Wanda as he left.

“We’ll update you as we learn more,” Maria continued. “The best thing you can do is go home.”

“And there has been no word from her parents,” Natasha said. Maria shook her head. “Do you not find that weird? She gets kidnapped, and no one can find them. They have to be involved.”

“I think they are as well, but until the team finds them, I can’t ask what they know,” Maria rubbed her temple. “Off the record, I think they are a piece of shit,” Wanda smiled. “Nat, we are-” Wanda’s phone began to ring, cutting off the agent.

“Sorry,” it was probably Billy or Tommy who was wondering when she would be home. She looked at the unknown number calling her. “I don’t know who this is,” she showed Maria and Steve her phone.

“Go have Darcy start the trace,” Steve said, leaving the room rather quickly. “Put it on speaker, stay calm, and before they make any demands, ask to speak with her,” Wanda nodded. Her hands shook, and she felt her throat tighten. Natasha sat down next to her, grabbing her hand. She answered her phone and placed a call on speaker.

“Hello,” she heard breathing on the other side. “Whose there?”

“Wanda Maximoff,” a man’s voice slowly said. A shiver went down her spine as he said her name. “You go by your maiden name, right? Since your divorce from Vision.” She glanced at Maria. Her face was pinched, her head tilted as if she was trying to figure out who was talking to her. It was unsettling how he knew her.

“Who are you?” The man laughed.

“Ask the SHIELD agent in front of you,” he said. “Who is it? Hill? Fury?” The agent gave her a quick nod.

“Hill,” she answered.

“Alexander Pierce,” Maria said. “I thought kidnapping was beneath you.”

“Desperate times come for desperate measures,” Pierce said. “SHIELD has something I want, and I feel like it’s an easy trade.” Wanda saw Maria’s jaw clench.

“I want to speak with her,” Wanda said. “Prove to us she’s still alive.” Natasha tightened the hold on Wanda’s hand, almost painful.

“Clever girl,” Pierce said. Wanda listened to his footsteps. The sound of a smack and your pained groan shattered Wanda’s already fragile heart. “You have a phone call.”

“W-Wanda?” You questioned. Your voice was soft and rough. It broke the dam. She felt the tears run down her cheeks.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Wanda’s voice shook. “How are you?” You chuckled.

“I’ve been better. I’m sorry I didn’t pick the boys up from school,” you somehow managed to make Wanda laugh.

“You are such an idiot,” she smiled. “I love you.” She had to say it. If she wasn’t going to talk to you again, she wanted that to be clear. She loved you so much.

“I lo-” You let out another pain whimpered and gasped for air. Natasha was surely going to break her hand.

“I will be calling Fury,” Pierce directed it to Maria. “I expect him to answer, or his precious flower will be returned to him in a box.” He hung up, and Natasha released the tight hold on Wanda’s hand. As a heavy silence filled the small conference room, Wanda stared at her phone. Slowly, she looked up and locked eyes with Maria. A part of her wished she hadn’t. She saw anger deep within Maria’s eyes. Wanda expected that emotion, but she saw the fear that froze her down to her core.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Wanda stood in the waiting area. After the phone call, Maria rushed to see if they could trace the call. Her team wasn’t so lucky. She walked into Fury’s office and slammed the door behind her. “Hey,” Natasha knelt in front of her. “Do you and the boys want to stay with us until they find her?” Yelena sat next to her in the empty chair.

“The boss would have our heads if we let anything happen to you,” the blonde teased, nudging her shoulder against Wanda’s. Natasha smiled.

“I like my head,” she smirked. “It’s my money maker.” Yelena scuffed.

“You are so stupid,” Wanda smiled, wiping her cheeks. She stopped crying but she felt the dry tears. Yelena and Natasha were good and she understood why they were such an important part of your life.

“I appreciate it, but-”

“Wands, please,” Natasha cut her off. “It will give me peace of mind knowing the three of you are safe while all this is going on,” How could Wanda say no to that? She hated being a burden, but they were family.

“Okay,” you nodded. “I’ll have to talk to Vision about it.”

“Hell, that funk of metal can join,” Wanda looked at her, tilting her head. Natasha shook her head. “Inside joke between the boss and I.” The redhead smiled sadly. Yelena stood up as Maria walked over to them. Her face was edge in a frown.

“I’m assigning agents to your family,” Maria told Wanda. She knew not to question that.

“Who is Alexander Pierce?” Wanda asked. The question had been burning on her tongue since the phone call ended. Maria placed her hands on her hips and glanced over her shoulder.

“I could get fired or thrown into the RAFT if they find out I told you this. Got it?” Everyone nodded. “A few years back, we learned that SHIELD was infiltrated by a terrorist group called HYDRA. It’s been in the works for years. Pierce used to have Fury’s job, then he was promoted to the secretary of the World Council,” she sighed. “We’ve been working to remove HYDRA, but it’s been slow work.”

“So HYDRA is using Y/n to get something you took from them,” Maria nodded. “Any idea what they want?” Yelena asked.

“Information, maybe a HYDRA agent we arrested,” Maria shrugged. “It could be anything.”

“Maria,” Wanda said slowly. How likely will Fury give them what they want?” Wanda watched the agent’s face whiten, but she shook it off.

“It won’t come to that. We’ll find her before that. " The agent’s choice not to answer her question was enough to convince Wanda how serious this was.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Maria sighed as she watched the trio leave. There was a weight that rested on her chest. Her friend was gone, kidnapped because of her job. The friend in her wanted to burn down the city until she found you and not worry about the consequences. But she was the Deputy Director of an agency under public scrutiny. Everything needed to be done by the book. She turned around, put on her mask to cover her true feelings, and joined her team. “What do we know?” She asked.

“A few months back, a car dealership was robbed, and 3 SUVs were taken,” Sharon said and pulled up pictures of the car Maria recognized from the security footage of your kidnapping. “It was whipped clean, but Darcy is going through it.”

“Tracing the call got us a borough but nothing exact,” Steve said, placing a picture of Staten Island on the screen. “We can increase police activity, but that is a lot of ground to cover.” It was a complete waste of resources. She knew HYDRA was good, but it seemed like they were looking for a specific needle in a mount of needles, which concluded they had nothing. Maria couldn’t say that to her team.

“Alright, Carter. I need you to get your hands on any footage of this van—traffic cameras, ATMs, and pictures from social media. An SUV doesn’t just disappear. Work with Barton and go over the initial robbery now that we know it was HYDRA.”

“On it, boss,” Sharon stood up to grab coffee and head to MTAC. Clint stayed in his seat, but she would get back to him shortly.

“Wilson, Coulson, we need to figure out what they want before they tell us. Go through every arrest we made and our team on the West Coast. Contact Van Dyne if you have any issues,” the two agents nodded and got to work. It was still in the early stages, but the longer you were gone, the less likely you were to be found alive.

“Hill, can we talk?” Clint motioned to the small kitchen. Maria nodded, and the two agents walked over. He started a new pot of coffee, and Maria knew they would need it. “I found something at the dump site.”

“And you chose not to tell the team?” Clint nodded. “Why?”

“Because I don’t think it’s important for the investigation,” he looked over his shoulder and fished a black jewelry box out of his pocket. “I’m guessing you knew about this.” Maria nodded. Of course, she did. You told Natasha that you bought it, and by best friend code, Natasha told Maria before you could tell her. She and Natasha had a bet on when you would ask her. “Like I said, it’s not very important to the investigation.” Maria took the small box and put it in her pocket.

“Thanks, Clint,”

“What are you going to do with it?” She wasn’t 100% sure.

“Keep it safe till we find her,” she smiled. The man nodded and joined the rest of the team. Her gut instinct was telling her to keep it safe so that when you returned, you could ask her, but the situation was complicated. Maria knew you well—not as well as Natasha, but she saw you as a sister. If anything were to happen to you, Maria knew you would want Wanda to have it. For now, it would be safe with her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Honestly, Wanda was exhausted. She couldn’t imagine how you, Maria, and Natasha were feeling, but she was tired. All she wanted was to curl up in the safety of your bed with your arms around her, but that wasn’t possible.

After she left SHIELD, she drove to her apartment and your house to pack a bag for her and the boys. Now, she sat outside Vision’s house, gathering the energy to go inside. How was she going to tell Tommy and Billy? They were going to be heartbroken.

Sighing, she exited the car and walked to the front door. When she got to Natasha’s house, she needed a tall glass of wine. Wanda rang the doorbell, and Tiffany opened the door with a smile. “Wanda, hi, please come in,” Wanda fought, not to roll her eyes. I am so sorry about Y/n. If there is anything I can do, please let me know,” Wanda nodded.

“Where is Vision?” she asked. The last thing she wanted was to have a heart-to-heart with her ex-husband’s current girlfriend.

“In his office,” Without another word, she walked to the man’s office and knocked on the open door. Her ex-husband looked up from the file he was reading.

“Has there been an update?” She closed the door behind her and walked over to him.

“I received a phone call from the people that took her,” she stated.

“What do they want? If it’s money, I can help,” she shook her head and glanced at the door, ensuring it was closed.

“She’s being used as a bargaining chip. They want something SHIELD has,” Vision looked at her and then at the closed door behind her.

“Is this about HYDRA?” He whispered. Wanda sat down in the empty chair.

“How do you know about HYDRA?” The man glared at her.

“I work for the district attorney,” he deadpanned. “Of course, I know about it,” this time, Wanda did not stop herself from rolling her eyes. She was always amazed at how long she stayed with him. “If HYDRA has her, this is concerning.”

“What have you told the boys?” She asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “I wanted to wait for you. You were always better at breaking tough news to them,” she smiled.

“Natasha asked if I could take them and stay at her house. She offered a place for you, too,” Wanda almost laughed at the surprised look on his face. “Maria is assigning agents to you and us.”

“I don’t need protection,”

“It’s not up for debate, Vision,” Wanda snapped but sighed. “They knew my phone number. They knew I was at SHIELD when they called, so they had people watching. As much as I hate you sometimes,” the man chuckled. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Careful Wands,” he smirked. “People might think you care about me.”

“You are a jackass,” she admitted, but she did care about him. He was a great partner in the beginning, but they grew apart. It happened. He gave her Billy and Tommy. “Let’s go tell the boys. Are they in their room?” He nodded and stood up. They walked to the boy’s room. She had no idea how to tell them. It was her job to protect them, to protect them from the evil in the world. But the evil in the world was after her family, and they had the right to know the truth.

Tommy was playing video games, a game you gifted them, and Billy was reading a book off your bookshelf. You meant the world to them, and Wanda’s heart was breaking. “Hi, Mom,” Billy said. “Do you know where Y/n is?” Tommy paused the game. Wanda sat down next to Tommy, and Vision next to Billy.

“Not yet, son, but the authorities are looking for her.” Tommy frowned.

“Something bad happened, right?” He asked. “She wouldn’t just leave us,” he looked at Billy, who nodded in agreement.

“Yes, something bad happened, but Maria and the SHIELD agents are doing everything possible to bring her home.” Wanda ran her hands through Tommy’s hair and rested it on the middle of his back.

“Why would someone take her?” Tommy asked. “What did she do?” Wanda sighed.

“The world is filled with evil people. Your father has faced some of them with his job. “Sometimes, we may never know the why,” Tommy rested his head on her shoulder, and Billy leaned into his father. It could have been for money or revenge.” The world wasn’t black and white. Wanda knew you were being used as leverage, but if Pierce thought Fury wronged him, it could be seen as revenge, too. Living in Slovakia during a civil war taught her a lot about perspective.

“I want her to come home,” Billy whispered.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“That’s all we have,” Maria gave Fury an update. To put it lightly, the team had nothing, which wasn’t a surprise to Fury. HYDRA went under the radar for years. But he saw the frustration on his agents, especially those close to you. Maria dropped her professional stance and slumped down in the empty chair. “What the hell are we going to do, Nick?” She asked. “SHIELD doesn’t make deals with terrorists, but this is Y/N we are talking about,” Fury was furious with Pierce for using you to get to him. Pierce was his friend, the reason he sat as the director of SHIELD, and he knew how important you were to him.

“We’ll save her and stop Pierce,” was all Fury could offer the agent, whom he ‘adopted’ as well. “Go lead the team and take care of yourself,” she nodded and left his office. The man sighed. There was a crushing weight on top of his chest. He needed a few seconds to be alone.

He wasn’t a sentimental guy. His office had very few personal decorations and kept it that way for a reason: He never wanted anyone to know who he was close to. This provided it. Fury opened up a drawer in his desk and took out a bottle of whiskey. The glass bottle had a lighthouse engraved on it. It was a gift from you when you signed your first deal with your company. The whiskey was gone, but Fury kept the bottle.

He was so proud of you that day, even though he never told you. He hoped he hadn’t missed his chance.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Natasha was pouring a glass of wine for herself and Wanda while the mother of two settled the twins into the guest room. In times like this, Natasha was grateful she got a big house. Other times, it felt lonely. She heard Bucky before he saw him. The contrasting feeling of his arms wrapped around her waist. The woodsy smell of his cologne relaxed her even more. “A little early to be hitting the bottle,” she rolled her eyes at the teasing tone. “How are you, doll?” She was a mess because she could do nothing but wait. Everything was out of her control. She sipped the wine and looked out the window to see the SHIELD agent outside her home.

“When do you think Steve will be home?” She changed the topic of the conversation. She was not in the right headspace to talk about her feelings. Bucky sighed.

“Late. He probably won’t come home until Maria sends him home, or we go get him,” Natasha chuckled. That sounded right. The man was dedicated to his job, and you were the reason the three of them were together.

“Is that for me?” Wanda asked. Wordlessly, Natasha handed the glass to her. She sighed after she took a sip. “What can I make for dinner?”

“You don’t need to cook, Wanda. I was going to order takeout or something,” Wanda bit her lip.

“I need to do something to keep busy, or I’ll go insane. Please,” Natasha knew the feeling. She was two seconds away from going into the office to finish work, but she knew Bucky and Steve would not like that.

“The kitchen is yours, Wanda,” Bucky said. The mother of two gave him a grateful smile before going through the cabinets. Natasha was grateful she recently placed a grocery order. She sat on the island and watched Wanda move around the kitchen. The conversation flowed naturally, and it was meaningless. It was to just fill the silence.

Natasha understood how you fell for her so quickly. Even with the intense situation they all found themselves in, there was a calming presence about her. The Russian remembered the day you met Wanda. She was pissed you were late to the meeting, but her anger melted away when she saw the love-sick look on your face.

At first, she was worried. You recently ended your relationship with Sharon. Sharon wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t the person for you. You seemed to hide parts of yourself that you showed with Wanda.

“Why did you get in trouble?” Wanda asked for the water to boil. She was making a pasta dish, and it smelled amazing. Natasha found it unfair you both were good in the kitchen.

“Because I wouldn’t rat on her,” Natasha laughed. “Fury dragged us both back to the station. Oh, my mother was pissed. I was grounded for three weeks.” It was harder for Melina to punish you since you weren’t technically her kid, but she took away privileges when you were at their house. “Bad boys for life, you know?” Bucky chuckled with a slight shake of his head. He was leaning against the counter.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get into real trouble,” he said. “You are lucky Fury has a soft spot for Y/n.” Natasha rolled her eyes at the man. Fury saved your life. She was grateful for the man. Suddenly, the front door swung up. The sound startled her, and Wanda and Natasha jumped from her seat - the chair fell to the ground with a loud bang.

“James Barnes,” Melina snapped. “But that gun down,” Natasha stared at her parents, heart racing.

“What the fuck is your problem?” She snapped. Bucky put the gun that was hidden under the junk drawer away. She was unaware there was a gun there. “You can’t just barge in here with everything going on.”

“Why not?” Alexei closed the door with his foot, and Natasha cringed at the sound. The man’s hands were full of luggage. “The nice man gave me a badge,” he said, dropping a bag to hold up the lanyards. I feel like I am a secret agent like in American movies.” Natasha groaned but looked at Wanda when she giggled.

“Don’t encourage him,” she said. “It will only make it worse.” Natasha heard the pounding of feet coming down the stairs. Damn, her house was going through it. The twins jumped from the second to the last step.

“We heard yelling,” Tommy said. “And a loud bang.”

“Is everyone okay?” Natasha fixed her fallen chair as the boys walked over to their mother.

“We’re okay,” she said, placing her arms around them as they hugged each other. “Sorry for the scare.” Bucky was helping with the bags and bringing them to the guest suite.

“Meet my parents,” Natasha introduced them. “Alexei, Melina, this is Wanda and her sons, Billy and Tommy. " The twins managed to remove themselves from their mother and wave at the two new additions.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Wanda said with a smile. “I’ve heard great things.”

“We as well,” Melina said, pulling your girlfriend into a hug. Natasha saw the sudden contact, which surprised her. “Now, how can I help?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Once dinner was eaten and the dishes were put away, Natasha watched Bucky add another log to the fire outside. Wanda and the twins were asleep, so Steve, her parents, Yelena, and Kate were left to enjoy the cooler weather. Natasha leaned further into Steve’s warmth. She missed him. Even though she knew he would instead be working, having everyone under the same roof gave her peace of mind. “I wish I could tell you more,” Natasha jumped back into the conversation as Bucky sat beside her—his flesh arm around both of them. “We don’t have anything solid,” Yelena huffed.

“That’s such bullshit,” Yelena said. “You just can’t tell us anything.” Kate squeezed Yelena’s leg. Steve sighed.

“I would about this,” he said. “The car was stolen from a dealership and whipped clean. Coulson and Carter are going through witness statements. It’s still in the early stages,” Natasha sighed and felt Steve’s lips on her forehead. She knew the team was doing everything they could, but still, it was killing her.

“We know you guys are doing your best,” Melina said. “We are just worried.”

“Trust me, I get it. I’ve never seen Maria or Fury this stress before.” Natasha couldn’t imagine the guilt Fury was dealing with.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Maria sent most of the team home. They’ve been racking their brains and staring at screens. Fresh eyes were needed for a case like this. She glanced over her computer to watch Fury work in silence, reviewing classified files that he and Pierce worked on. The man was quiet. To anybody else, they would assume it was normal. But Maria knew the man. The director was worried and ridden with guilt. Hell, he jumped when his phone started to ring. Maria wondered what was going through his head. “Fury,” he answered.

“Nick,” Pierce’s voice sent a deep rage through Maria. She never experienced this type of anger before. “It’s been a long time, old friend,” Fury rested his arms on his desk.

“I think you lost the right to call me friend,” Maria smiled. “Tell me what you want so I can tell you to go fuck yourself,” Pierce tisked.

“You have always been quick to anger,” he said. It was my only worry when appointing you to the director position.” Fury’s jaw clenched. “Say hello, little canary. " It was like a freight train ran over Maria. It had been years since she had heard that nickname.

“Hi, Nick,” you said. Maria watched Fury’s face soften. You were his soft spot. Maria heard the distinct sound of a gun’s safety turning off. “You know I needed a vacation, but this wasn’t what I had in mind.” God, you were an idiot. Only you would try to crack a joke in a severe situation. “Anyways, don’t give in, these no-good, backstabbing, cock eating terrorists,” the sound of someone hitting you and your pained groan caused Fury to flinch.

“Feisty,” Pierce laughed. He must have taken the phone off speaker because the sounds you were making faded. You were trying so hard to be quiet and muffle your screams. “Did you teach her that? You never respected your superiors.”

“What do you want, Pierce?”

“I knew she was the way to break you,” he must have called off your beating because Maria could no longer hear you. “I want Brock Rumlow released, and the tesseract returned to its rightful owner,” Maria’s stomach dropped. The tesseract was a massive power source that could power enhanced weapons.

“We need time,” Fury said, showing no emotion from the news. “Rumlow is a high-profile inmate.” It was purposeful, not to mention the tesseract.

“You have 72 hours to hand over Brock and the tesseract, or your little birdie will have her wings cut off.” Pierce hung up. There was a deafening silence in his office. Then Fury acted quickly. He picked up his phone and threw it against the wall. The device shattered on impact.

“Nick,” Maria said slowly.

“Hill, leave,” but she stayed. “Deputy Director that is an order,” he damned. She was never one to disobey, but she felt frozen, watching the normally calm and collected man fall apart. He closed his one good eye and let out a shaky breath. “Maria, please.” The agent nodded and stood up.

“Take care of yourself, Nick,” she said and left. The door closed behind her, and she leaned against the wooden door. “Dammit,” she whispered. This was bad. Really bad. If Pierce just asked for Rumlow, they could have justified the trade. But they could not get their hands back on the tesseract. World War 3 would be a better fate. “Fucking dammit.” Forgive us, bean. We are so sorry.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You felt the blood dripping down your head, and there was a ringing in your ears. The muffled voices of Pierce hurt your head. Do you think he called for a doctor? Hands grabbed your chin and forced your head up. The sudden movement made you nauseous. “Awe, poor baby,” it was Tiffany.

“How-” you let out a shaky breath. “How did you know about the nickname?” You were a public figure. People were interested in who you were as your company was plastered all over the city. But there were some things you kept private, everything about your parents. Before your first deal, you made them sign NDAs. It was illegal for them to go to the press and try to tear you down.

That nickname, though—you hadn’t heard it in years. Your father called you that. Canaries represented freedom because they are independent spirits. It was a double-edged sword. On one hand, he saw you as extremely independent, but he saw it as disobedience.

Pierce smirked, “We had inside information. Would you like to see it?” You were slow to answer, you were forced to stand, and you were dragged out of the room. Maybe you should have noticed the hallways Pierce’s men dragged you down. But you were struggling to keep your eyes open and the contacts of your stomach in your stomach. There were a few left turns. Maybe a right. The place was massive. Even if you managed to escape the room they kept you in, your wounds kept you from running.

Pierce opened a door, and you were brought into a room with a glass plane on one side. The man flipped a switch, and you saw what was beyond the one-way window. Your parents. They were trapped just like you, but they lacked your injuries.

They looked older from the last time you saw them as the years of drinking and partying finally caught up to them.

“It’s a little sad actually,” Pierce said. You looked at the man, who was staring at your parents. “All we did was offer them some money, and they would not stop talking,” he sighed. “I guess you know where you stand with them. They did try to warn you.” You watched them through the glass. Your father paced the entire perimeter of their room while your mother sat on the mattress. You could tell she was annoyed with him but bit her tongue. There had to be multiple fights between them. Suddenly, Pierce taped on the glass, and the door on the other side opened.

“We told you everything,” your father told the man who walked in and closed the door behind him—a sinking feeling formed in your stomach. “We held up our end of the bargain. Give us our money.”

“Please let us go,” your mother said and stood up. “You don’t have to pay us.” Your father slapped her across the face. She recoiled in pain, but it was a sight you’ve seen so many times. You saw it coming before they did as the man reached behind his back and pulled out a pistol.

“Pierce don-” All it took was two bullets, and their bodies slumped to the ground. People who experience a near-death experience said their life flashed before their eyes. You could say the same when someone witnessed death so closely.

Your parents were not good people. They used and abused you for the better part of your life, but you never wished for their death. You wished for another warm hug from your father as the smell of pine and cigar smoke surrounded you. You wished for another kiss on your cheek from your mother that felt sticky due to the cheap stick she wore. You wanted one more birthday, one more Christmas. One more chance to be a family.

“Y-you,” you stuttered. “You killed them. Why?” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the pool of blood that surrounded their heads.

“Because they were useless to me,” Pierce grabbed your chin and forced your eyes away to look at him. “Do you understand now? I dispose of things that aren’t useful. Understand?” You nodded. “Don’t mourn them,” he dropped his hand. “They never cared about you.”

That was the story everyone told you. They never cared about you. They only cared about your status and money. But once upon a time, you were daddy’s little girl and mommy’s perfect angel. Once upon a time, you were a family. Now that story was over, and their blood pooled on the concrete.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Wanda sipped her coffee as she watched Melina help Billy and Tommy with schoolwork. It was an easy agreement between Vision and her. The boys would be home-schooled until you were home, and the people behind your capture were caught. Even her job let her take time off. There was no way she was in the suitable head space to take orders from customers.

Bucky answered the doorbell and welcomed Maria into the house. “Melina,” the agent said. “It’s been too long.” Wanda watched the two embrace. I didn’t know you were in town.”

“They surprised us last night,” Bucky sighed. “I almost shot them,” he deadpanned. Wanda laughed with a shake of her head.

“So, a typical family gathering,” she patted the veteran on the back. “Is Natasha around? I have an update.” Tommy looked up from his homework, a hopeful look on his face.

“Did you find her?” Tommy asked. Maria looked at the twins with a smile.

“Not yet,” she said. “But we are working hard to bring her home safely.” Tommy deflated at the news. They moved into Natasha’s home office while Kate hung out with Billy and Tommy. “Her captures called last night and made their demands.”

“What do they want?” Yelena asked. Maria sighed.

“The release of an inmate and access to a very powerful weapon,” Wanda’s stomach sank. “He gave us 72 hours.” There was no need for her to say more. Wanda could fill in the blanks on her own.

“How likely is Fury to comply?” Melina questioned. Maria’s silence was enough of an answer.

“Maria, this is Y/n we are talking about. Are you telling me you and Fury are going to let some psychopath kill her?” Maria flinched at the accusation. Wanda watched the moment something inside of Maria snapped; the dam finally broke.

“Do you think I want this? Do you not believe me when I know how much she means to everyone in this room?” She asked. Her voice shook as she tried to keep her voice calm. “If I had it my way, I’d burn this city to the fucking ground to find her. But I know,” she pointed to herself. “What will happen if these fuckers get their hands back on the Tesseract and Rumlow.” She threw her arms to the side. “This isn’t easy for us, Nat. Believe me. I hate that we have to choose between one life and millions.” It was the classic trolley problem. Instead of a bay stander ready to intervene to choose what track to take, it was Fury. But he knew the one person on the track. It was you, someone he considered a daughter. Natasha’s tough exterior crumbled.

“Maria, I-” the agent held her hands to stop her.

“At the end of the day, it’s not our decision. National security is at risk, so we need approval from the World Council,” Maria sighed. “Fury is meeting with them while I’m here.”

“A prison transfer that big is not an easy task,” Melina added.

“Exactly what we told Pierce, but he knows how the system works. So we have time to come up with a plan. Darcy is tracing the phone calls. Hopefully, with two calls from him, it will help narrow the search,” Maria explained. “I need you all to have faith in me. I am doing everything I can to bring her home alive.”

“We do,” Wanda finally said. The agent looked at her. Maria’s fingers grazed her pant pocket, but her hand fell back to her side. It was such a small gesture that everyone missed it except Wanda, who raised her eyebrows in question.

“Wanda, can I speak to you? Alone.” Wanda nodded at Maria’s request and sat down on Natasha’s court. She watched the agent hug the redhead, whisper something, and close the door behind her. Maria sat down with a sigh.

“For what it’s worth,” Wanda spoke softly. “I don’t think she would want you to give them anything if it meant people would get hurt,” Maria chuckled.

“She said something along those lines when Pierce called. It was more like, ‘Don’t give into these no good, backstabbing, cock eating terrorists,’ Maria mimicked your voice so well it caused laughter to bubble out of Wanda. Maria smiled. “God, I want her home so bad.”

“Me too,” Wanda whispered, whipping away a tear running down her cheek. “What did you want to talk about?” Maria tapped her hands against her thighs. Wanda wasn’t going to push. Your friend was going through a lot. Finally, she put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a small black jewelry box. Wanda stared at it, her heart beating so fast she feared it would stop. “I’m flattered, Maria, but I’m spoken for,” it was a knee-jerk reaction to joke about it. Maria rolled her eyes and handed it to her.

“She would want you to have this if something were to happen to her,” she said. Her hands shook as she opened it and stared at the diamond ring. Where did Maria find this? How long have you had it? “Clint found it when he searched the car that was dumped. It must have fallen out of her pocket.”

The ring had a three-diamond stone that was cut in a pear shape. It was simple, but it was an eye-catcher and cost more than she made it a year. Her hands shook as she placed it on her finger. A perfect fit. It was no surprise to her that you knew her ring size. Now, she couldn’t help the tears that escaped her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Maria put her hand on her shoulder to offer support, and then her phone rang. She offered Wanda a smile and answered it.

“Hey Coulson, what do you got?” Wanda whipped the tears out of her eyes. A range of emotions passed through Maria’s eyes: anger, relief, and disbelief. “Yeah, send me the address. I’ll be right there.” She hung up.

“What is it?” Wanda asked. Maria slapped her phone against her hand.

“That was Phil. Patrol officers found two bodies,” the very little food in Wanda’s stomach began to turn. “It’s her parents.”

Delete Created with Sketch.

You weren’t sure how to feel. Everything felt numb, not even when the doctor came to disinfect your wounds; you felt nothing. You weren’t sure if you should feel anger or cry or be relieved that you were free from them. “Oh, come on,” Tiffany pushed herself off the wall and walked behind you. You felt her hands on your shoulder and squeezed them. Her touch burned against your skin. “Why mourn them when it is their fault?” She began to massage your shoulders. “Well, I guess it’s your fault too,” she continued when you stayed quiet. “Their last act of loving parents was to try to warn you,” you remembered Pierce saying the same thing.

“What-what do you mean?” You asked. Finally, she stopped touching you and stood in front of you, tilting your chin up.

“The phone calls,” she said. “If you answered them, they would have told you everything.”

“Who sent the note then?” Your brain was becoming less foggy. Tiffany smiled.

“That was me,” she said. “We were worried if you spoke to them, you would have believed them. The note was to make you believe it was another fabricated lie. Poor baby,” she cooed. “Just a dumb kid desperate for mommy and daddy’s love.” She dropped your head and heard her leave.

You hated this sinking feeling that surrounded you. There was so much guilt, and you hated it. You wanted to go home. You wanted to crawl into bed with Wanda’s arms around you. A few tears fell down your cheek, and a sob echoed in your chest. It felt good to finally cry.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

At this point in her career, Maria never visited crime scenes. She trusted her agents to follow protocol and report back to her. Still seeing the bodies of those that were killed due to the evilness in the world made Maria’s stomach twist into knots. Now, she was going to see the bodies of people she knew. That wasn’t going to be easy. Sighing, she stepped out of the safety of her car and onto the busy city sidewalk.

It was packed with reporters and regular citizens who hoped to get a glimpse of the action. Maria could never understand the public’s fascination with crime and death. Ignoring the questions from the reporters, she ducked under the yellow tap that the patrol officer held up for her. Phil met her, and once they were out of earshot from the crowd, he sighed. “Their fingerprints identified them, but we are waiting for you to make a positive ID.” Maria nodded.

“Any witnesses?” She asked.

“Two joggers found the bodies,” he pointed to where Sharon was talking to them. I’m having Wilson pull the camera footage, and Barton is talking to shop owners.” That’s good. Hopefully, someone saw something and wasn’t scared to say anything. They were in a populated part of the city—a perfect spot for joggers and tourists. It was a risky spot to dump two bodies. Someone had to see something.

Maria pulled on a pair of gloves from her pocket. Steve is taking pictures of the crime scene. “Shit,” Maria whispered when she got closer. It was them. A single gunshot to the forehead was the most likely the cause of death, but Strange would confirm it through the autopsy. “I never thought they’d die. They seemed immortal.”

“No sign of a struggle,” Steve said. Maria held up your father’s hand and saw no bruising. She held it while Steve took a picture. Their bodies were placed next to each other, arms at their side, and their hands were almost touching. Even after death, they were handled with care.

Shit. How was she going to tell you? Maria stood up and ignored the ache in her bones. She was getting too old for this. “Bag and tag everything,” she took off her gloves. “A clue has to be here to find what happened to them.”

“Sounds good, boss. " She took her phone out of her pocket and called Fury on her way to the car. He answered as soon as she was in the car.

“It’s them,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Single gunshot to the forehead. No defense wounds. Do you think it was Pierce?”

“Maybe,” he sighed. “He had someone else pull the trigger. There is no way he did it himself.”

“I understand killing them if they were no longer needed, but why dump their body in a public area? It’s like he wanted us to find them,” she leaned back in her seat, resting her free hand on the steering wheels.

“I think he wanted us too,” Fury said after a silence. “A reminder that anyone can be removed once they aren’t useful.” Great. Wonderful.

“The team is finishing up here. I’ll call the Romanoffs and have them meet me at headquarters.”

“Understood. See you soon,” Maria hung up and threw her phone into the passenger seat. She had to keep reminding herself that you were still useful, still a pawn in all of this, so Pierce wouldn’t kill you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“How’s dad?” Billy asked Tommy as he returned from the kitchen with two sports drinks. Tommy handed one to Billy and sat down. The game started up again.

“He’s okay,” Tommy answered. “He seems a little lonely. I told him he could come over, but he doesn’t want anyone to feel awkward.” Billy sighed. Natasha’s house was anything but lonely except for right now. Natasha, Melina, and Alexei had to go to SHIELD headquarters; they wouldn’t tell them why. Mom was taking a nap; Billy wasn’t blind to her cheeks being blotchy. Yelena was running your company, and Kate, sitting with them, left to take a business call. “Is Tiffany not at the house?” Tommy shook his head.

“I guess he hasn’t seen her since Mom told us what’s going on,” Tommy said. That was two days ago. “She texted him saying he’s caught up at work or something,” Billy frowned.

“It’s a little weird. Y/n gets kidnapped, and Tiffany low-key disappears.” Tommy was quiet but tilted his head. “And we did overhear her speaking on the phone in German. I don’t even know she spoke another language,” Tommy nodded.

“Oh yeah, I remember that. She bribed us with foot-long chocolate bars to keep it a secret,” Tommy suddenly paused the game. “Do you think Tiffany works for the people involved in the kidnapping?” Billy looked around; there was still no sign of Kate or Yelena. He stood up and grabbed Kate’s laptop; the Bishop Security logo moved across the screen.

“It wouldn’t hurt to do our investigation,” a smile grew on Tommy’s face.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my goody two-shoes brother?” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Shut up and help me,”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Yelena was hanging on by a thread. With you gone and Natasha processing your kidnapping poorly, the business fell to her. On any other day, she would have jumped for joy at getting this opportunity, but she was tired. The world continued to move even when Yelena wished it would. So when Tony called to give an update on production, she had to take it. “So Blondie, how are you? You holding everyone else together like you are with the company.” Yelena smirked and ignored the annoying nickname.

“Trying,” she sighed. “I had to watch Natasha flip on Maria.”

“I would have paid money to see that,” the man was such a playboy, even with a wife and daughter. “Any updates on the case?” Yelena closed her laptop. Only a select few outside those closest to you knew the truth. It was Monica’s job to spin the story with the press.

“They made their demands last night,” Yelena told him. I guess they want an inmate released and something called the tesseract.” Tony let out a long hiss and then got quiet. It was always odd when the man was quiet.

“Did you say tesseract?”

“Yes, why?” Yelena leaned back in her sister’s chair.

“I never thought I’d hear that again,” Tony sighed. “Loki and Thor found it in New Asgard. They called SHIELD because of how powerful it is. SHIELD called my team to run an analysis on it, but before we could get onto the plan, they called us off and told me they had a closer team,” Yelena frowned. “A year or two go by, and I get another call from them to look at it.” I know what will happen if they get their hands back the tesseract and Rumlow, as Maria said. Yelena could guess HYDRA stole it, and SHIELD got it back and captured Rumlow in the process. Now, you were a pawn in this massive chess game, a piece everyone sacrifices without hesitation.

“How powerful is it?” Yelena asked. “Be honest with me, Stark.” Again, Tony sighed, and she heard his own chair lean back.

“If it were to fall into the wrong hands, WWIII would be the end of all war,” he said. His tone sent a shiver down Yelena’s spine. “There won’t be an Earth to live on after.” Yeah, Yelena got the picture.

“Thanks Stark. Sorry, I asked,” the man chuckled.

“Keep me updated, Blondie.”

“And I told you to stop calling me that,” she hung up the phone but still heard his laughter. “Osel (jackass),” Yelena rubbed her temples. Shit. This was bad. Really, bad, and she understood why SHIELD was so hesitant to hand it over just to save you. Sighing, she stood up from Natasha’s desk and walked out of the office back to the living room. She heard the twins arguing before she saw them

“Tommy, let go!” Billy said. “You are going to break it.”

“You let go! You said you needed my help, and clearly, you don’t know what you are doing. " She rounded the corner and watched them fight over a laptop that belonged to her girlfriend. She saw the stickers on the top.

“What are you doing?” They jumped and dropped the laptop. Luckily, Tommy’s reflexes were fast, and he caught it before it hit the ground.

“We weren’t doing anything,” Billy smiled. Yelena narrowed her eyes and closed the distance. She held out her hand, and Tommy gave her the laptop. “If we tell the truth, how much trouble will we get in?”

“Depending on the reasoning for almost breaking Kate’s laptop,” the twins cringed, and Yelena heard Kate’s footsteps.

“What’s with all the yelling? And why are you holding my laptop?” Yelena gave it back to her.

“I was just about to find out,” Billy sighed.

“We want to help SHIELD find Y/n,” he admitted. Yelena’s tough exterior softened, and she sat beside the boy. “We had a theory and tried to use Bishop Securities to help.” Yelena sighed.

“I get you want to help,” the blonde said. “But why didn’t you tell us or another adult?” Tommy groaned and fell back onto the couch, his hands covering his face.

“Because you guys don’t tell us anything, why should we tell you?” It was a fair question. Yelena knew it was to protect them. They cared a lot about you, and it must be hard to always be in the dark. Kate sat next to Tommy.

“Tell us what you are thinking, and I can show you how to do it,” the brothers said, looking at each other in silence. Tommy nodded.

“We think our dad’s girlfriend is working with the people that took Y/n,” Yelena had to be honest; she was not expecting that. She knew they weren’t fond of her, but accusing her of being a terrorist was a little extreme. “Look, I know it sounds crazy-”

“It does,” Kate cut him off.

“But we have evidence,” Billy continued. “Our dad said she hasn’t been around a lot and is always at the house. Isn’t it weird that at the same time, something happens to Y/n, and Tiffany disappears?” It was weird but hardly evidence.

“And we overheard her talking in German on the phone,” Again noting that scream, ‘I’m part of a terrorist group hellbent on starting WWIII,’ “She bride us with chocolate bars not to tell anyone about it,” Even Yelena thought it was weird.

“You know,” Kate said slowly. “It wouldn’t hurt to look at all possible leads.”

“Even if it’s extremely illegal,” Yelena countered.

“It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught,” Kate smiled and opened her laptop. Yelena watched her girlfriend pull up the Bishop Security system. “Alright, what am I looking for?” She looked between the three of them. When no one answered, Yelena sighed. She was against this idea because Kate could get in trouble, but everyone was desperate for answers.

“Maria thinks the ransom note was dropped off on Tuesday,” Yelena said. “See if Tiffany was near the office on that day.” Kate nodded and typed away. The silence was tense. Finally, she moved the laptop to show the screen.

“Looks like Tiffany picked you guys up that day,” Sure enough, Tiffany walked into the office, and when she left, the twins were with her. She had no bag with her to hide the note.

“If she’s involved, she wouldn’t drop it off; it would be suspicious,” Billy said. “Can your system do a wider search? See if she met with anyone before picking us up.” Yelena and Kate looked at each other rather than at Billy. “Why? I read a lot of mystery books,” he shrugged.

“Nerd,” Tommy mumbled. Kate turned her laptop around again and began to search. It took longer than the first time, but Yelena caught it when Kate found something. Her eyebrows pinched together. It happened when she was working on something she didn’t understand. “What is it?” Slowly, Kate turned her laptop again.

The screen showed Tiffany meeting with a food delivery boy in an alley. Yelena recognized the logo as a regular spot from which the office ordered. There was no audio, but clear as day, Tiffany handed the man an envelope. She wore gloves so her fingerprints wouldn’t be on it. The man took it along with the stack of cash.

“Well,” Kate said. “That’s suspicious.”

“We were right,” Billy spoke slowly, trying to understand it.

“We were right,” Tommy repeated after his brother. “We were right!” They jumped up and down, chanting, ‘We were right.’ “Ooo,” Tommy cringed suddenly. “I don’t like that we were right.” Yelena chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“What is going on?” Wanda asked, walking down the stairs. The noise must have woke her up.

“Mom!” Billy yelled and ran over to her. He crashed into her and almost sent her flying back. “Get dressed! Get dressed! We have to hurry and go to SHIELD. We found information for the case!” Billy was shaking his mother from excitement.

“Billy-” Wanda sighed.

“It’s true,” Yelena stood up from the couch. The woman looked at Yelena, confused. Hell, Yelena was lost herself. Just moments ago, Maria was here and told them they had no leads. “I also would call Vision and tell him to meet us there. This may get messy.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Natasha was stuck on how to feel. On the one hand, you were free from the claws your parents had within you. On the other hand, your parents were murdered, and she was worried about how you would take that. No matter how often they hurt you, you were desperate for their love. She sat at Maria’s desk while she waited for Alexei and Melina. Legally, you were emancipated, but Alexei and Melina were listed as your emergency contacts on everything. Maria was going over the process of how to release your parents’ bodies.

The pictures on her friend’s desk were limited, but they were of important moments. One was at Maria’s graduation at the academy; you and Natasha were on either side of her. Another one was at the grand opening of your new company building. The picture was taken two seconds before Yelena sprayed the three of you with a bottle of champagne. It seemed the three of you were attached at the hip. Always helping one another, always celebrating with each other.

She glanced at her side to see Fury sit down next to her. “Are you here to yell at me too?” Natasha asked. Melina gave her a stern talk about how she spoke to Maria. She had enough quilt about it. The man shook his head. That was a relief. “How are you, Nick?” She asked him. Fury took the picture of you, Maria, Natasha, and Yelena in his hand. It was after you, Natasha, and Yelena signed a massive deal for the company. Maria took you all out to dinner and drinks after.

“Ready for all of this to be over,” Natasha learned early on that every word the man said was purposeful. He made sure not to mention you because he wasn’t sure how this would end. Natasha heard the distinct sound of her parents walking over to her. They tried to mask their true feelings, but their eyes gave them away. It was common for her family. No matter how much they tried to mask, it was impossible to hide. They were upset. Even though they hated what you had to endure at the hands of your parents, life was still lost.

“Ready to go home?” Melina asked. Natasha nodded. She was tired, but she had work to do. Yelena was meeting with Tony, and she needed to get an update on how that went.

Natasha stood up and pulled Maria into another hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know I hurt you.” She felt Maria exhale slowly and pat her on the back.

“It’s okay,” it wasn’t, but Natasha knew Maria was dealing with a lot. She offered her friend one final squeeze and let her go. Her family took a few steps towards the door, accommodated by Maria, when Natasha heard running approaching them.

“I found her!” Darcy exclaimed. A simple three-word sentence made Natasha’s stomach flip. “I found her!” The scientist repeated and pushed a file into Maria’s hand. “When Strange was preparing the bodies, he found a clear and sticky substance on their forearms,” she took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. “I ran it through the mass spectrometer and got a hit,” she opened the file for Maria. “It’s called Cronium, a compound that absorbs and stores kinetic energy. Honestly, it’s amazing stuff-”

“The point?” Maria cut her off before a tangent could form.

“Right, sorry,” she began to smile. “This substance was produced in one factory that happened to be shut down in Staten Island. It’s called-”

“Nova Forge Industries,” Natasha gave herself whiplash on how fast she turned towards the sound of Kate’s voice. She was standing there with her Bishop Security laptop and wasn’t alone. Yelena, Wanda, the twins, and Vision were running to catch up with her. What was happening?

“Yes,” Darcy titled her head slightly. “How did you know that?”

“We found her too,” Natasha said, sure her heart was going to combust with how fast it was beating. “Do you have somewhere I can plug this in, too?” She smiled and held up her laptop. “You guys aren’t going to believe this.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Kate was right. Wanda couldn’t believe it, and neither could everyone else as she explained what she had found. With her and the twin’s help, the missing piece of the puzzle was found, and Wanda saw hope in Maria’s eyes. It was a whirlwind around Wanda as Maria called the agents to assemble a plan and gather a team where you held. Somehow, in the chaos, she found Vision sitting by himself. Wanda sighed and sat next to him. “You know I was planning on breaking it off,” he glanced at Wanda, then looked forward. “I know the boys, and you never liked her.” Wanda smiled sadly.

“Why did you stay with her then?” Vision sighed.

“It felt less lonely with her, especially when the boys were with you.” The man shrugged. “I approach you for advocating for me,” Wanda knew Vision wasn’t involved in this mess when Maria started to question him. Even if he hated you, the boys loved you too much for him to get involved in a plot to cause you harm.

“I think you’ve been through enough. If I could help you avoid an interrogation with a pissed-off Fury, I’ll play my part,” the man laughed as the twins walked over. They looked guilty. Wanda found them looking like this if they got in trouble at school or broke something in the house. “What’s wrong, boys?” Without a word, they hugged Vision. Their father wasn’t expecting the sudden hug, but Wanda watched the man sag in relief against them.

“We’re sorry, Dad,” Billy mumbled. Vision ended the hug to look at them.

“Why are you apologizing?” He asked.

“Because of us, Tiffany is going to be in a lot of trouble,” Tommy added. Wanda’s heart broke for them. They expected Vision to be mad at them.

“Oh, boys. We all would have found out sooner rather than later,” they still looked upset. “But I am so proud of you,” their faces lit up.

“You are?” Billy questioned.

“Of course I am!” He grabbed onto their forearms. “You both played an important part in the investigation and because of your intuition, they will bring her home.” Tommy looked at Wanda for confirmation. His eyes light up like a Christmas tree.

“She’s coming home?” Wanda nodded and took his hand.

“Yes, baby,” she smiled. “She’s coming home.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was the door almost flying off the hinges that forced you awake. It was hard to sleep in a chair you were chained to. Pierce was seething. His face was red, and smoke was coming out of his ears. “Tell her,” he said. More people filed into the room behind her. “Tell her what you told me.” Sleep still fogged your brain, but you made out Fury’s voice on the other end of the phone.

“Deal is off, Pierce. SHIELD does not negotiate with terrorists,” Good, you thought. You couldn’t imagine the lives lost if they complied. You hoped Wanda and Natasha could forgive them one day.

“I’ll kill her,” Pierce threatened. “Her head will show up at your front door.”

“I know,” Fury said. You heard the slight hitch in his voice. “And I hope she can forgive me. Maybe in the next life, we’ll meet at the lighthouse.” You kept your face calm even when your heart skipped.

“I’ll be waiting, Nick,” you whispered. Pierce hung up before he could respond. Suddenly, you were lifted from the chair and suspended in the air by chains.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Pierce laughed. The lighthouse wasn’t a real place. It was a code word you and Fury made up. If you ever felt unsafe or needed to leave somewhere, you would text him lighthouse, and he would come. Only you and him knew the meaning behind the word. He was coming to save you. SHIELD knew where you were -all you had to do was survive

You felt the first hit to your ribs, then the second and the third. When the fourth hit came, you felt nothing. You dissociated, a trick you hadn’t done in years. When you were younger, your parents fought, and you hid away in your room. You were small for your age, so you’d hide underneath your bed and dream and float away. When you came back, the fight was over, and you’d climb out like nothing happened.

Float away. Float away. Dream and float away.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Faster, faster,” Tommy’s cheers made you run faster. Even though Wanda was going to yell at you for it being dangerous, you had a hard time saying no to the twins. You said yes right away when Tommy begged you to take him outside to play in the snow. You fished out the slid from storage and tied a robe to it. You pulled Tommy up and down the hill, and you were exhausted, but the sound of his laughter fueled you with energy.

“Children,” you stopped at the sound of Wanda’s voice. “Lunch is ready, and there is a hot chocolate.” Tommy jumped off the slide behind you. Wanda pushed her son away before he could get wet from the snow. You chuckled at their antics and walked over to your fiance.

“Do I get a kiss?” You asked, standing in front of her.

“Do you promise me you won’t get me wet?” You smirked at her but kept the suggestive comment to yourself. You had guests within hearing distance. Wordless, you nodded and quickly kissed her. Her lips were warm against yours. “You are cold,” she shivered. “Go get warm.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you kissed her again and untied your boots to enter the cabin. The cabin was busy. A fire was roaring, and Christmas music was lightly playing. Billy was showing off his new game to Shuri and Kate. Natasha and Yelena were at the bar making Holiday cocktails - you knew it was terrible for them to make the drinks. Melina was in the kitchen, and you were pretty sure Alexei was with Steve and Bucky out front to see who could cut firewood the fastest. It was already so busy, but more people were on their way.

You quickly changed out of your winter clothes and hung them up to dry. Wanda yelled at you yesterday for leaving them on the ground. You were fixing your sweater while you exited your bedroom when a body ran into you. “There she is!” Maria lifted you by the waist and spun you around. “Can’t believe you finally grew a pair and got down on one knee.” Finally, she put you down, and you punched her in the stomach.

“You’re a dick,” you said and ignored her groan in pain. Natasha walked over to you and forced a drink in your hand.

“Don’t be a stick in the mud,” she squeezed your cheek. “We are celebrating you.” You groaned and pushed them away to find Wanda. She was in the kitchen with Pepper. You wrapped your arms around her and pulled you flush to your chest.

“Tasha and Ria are being mean to me,” you mumbled. Wanda looked over her shoulder with a fond smile on her face.

“My poor baby,” she cooed. “Do you want me to yell at them?” You nodded and buried your face in the crook of her neck. You stayed attached to her back while she finished her conversation with Pepper. You only let her go when she forced a plate into your hand.

You sat next to Fury, who was sipping on a small glass of whiskey. “It feels like old times,” you said to the man. “With everyone together.” The man nodded. You took a few bites of food but stopped and looked at him. “This is real, right, or is this all in my head?” Fury gave you a half smile.

“Not sure why it can’t be both,” you frowned at him, unsure what he meant. “This is all you want, right, kid? Your family together,” you nodded. “Then maybe this is a future you haven’t seen yet.”

“And I will see all of this one day,” the man shrugged and finished his drink.

“I guess that depends on you,” he stood up and fixed his coat. Are you strong enough to wait for us?” He left alone. Everything began to slow down and blur. Your family moved around you, but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. You were strong. You could withstand anything if it meant seeing them all again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Soft hands cradled your face, and you repeatedly heard someone call your name. Your eyes fluttered open. “Ria,” you whispered. Your friend laughed, eyes glossing over with tears.

“Good, Pierce didn’t kill you before I got a chance to slap you around,” you saw Steve come in with metal cutters. Once he cut the metal chains, you fell into Maria. “To be fair, you have a list of people that are pissed at you.”

“Unbelievable,” you scuffed. “I get kidnapped, and people are mad at me.” You felt Maria’s lips on your forehead.

“Let’s get you home, bean.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You heard movement next to you that caused you to wake up. Opening your eyes, it took a minute for your brain to connect the dots. They found you. You were safe in what looked like to be in a hospital with a SHIELD agent standing outside your door. “Sorry, kid, didn’t mean to wake you,” you turned your head to see Fury sitting next to you. “I figured this would be my only time to see you before the room was filled.” You smiled.

“I’m a popular girl; what can I say?” The man rolled his good eye at you. “You found me, pops,” you whispered, taking his hand. “I knew you would.” Fury shook his head.

“It’s my fault you were dragged into this mess.”

“You were doing your job, Nick. I would never be angry at you for that,” it was bad luck mixed with how greedy your parents were. “Pierce had my parents killed.” The man nodded.

“We found their bodies. One of the ways we found you,” he gave you a pained smile. “I am sorry,” you shrugged, unsure how to feel about their death. All the people in your life hated them. You knew the man next to you had strong feelings for them.

“It feels like I mourned their death years ago,” you admitted. “But watching it happen in front of me,” you sighed. “Fucking sucks.” Fury chuckled.

“Frankly, your parents were,” he paused. “Complicated people,” you chuckled and shook your head. “But as someone who has witnessed the death of people they care about. I wish you hadn’t seen that.” You fought back the tears and cleared your throat.

“It gets better, right?” You asked even though you were afraid of the answer. Fury nodded.

“Surround yourself with good people, and you’ve already done that, so that is half the battle,” he said, standing up and, to your surprise, kissing the side of your head. “I am so proud of you, kid.”

When you woke up again, Fury was gone, and Wanda was in the chair he was in. Your hand was in hers, and your eyes locked in on the ring on her finger. The ring you bought must have fallen out of our pocket when Pierce’s guys grabbed you. It slipped your mind that you had it when you went to pick up the twins. “This is not how I wanted to ask you,” she jumped from your voice. “I wanted it to be special, this grand gesture with the boys.” She laughed and squeezed your hand.

“How often do I tell you I don’t want big gestures or fancy gifts? I only want you,” she said. She chose you, not the money or the privilege that came with your job—just you.

“You’ll probably have to remind me a few times,” you smiled. Her green eyes, which you loved so much, began to fill with tears, and her lips started to shake. “Come here, baby,” she stood up from her chair and cradled your face. Her eyes scanned over your injuries. You felt her tears on your skin. “Baby, I’m okay. I’m okay,” you put your hand behind her head and pushed it to your shoulder. “Sh, it’s okay. I’m right here,” you felt her nod. “I’m right here,” you cooed over her quiet cries, and then you heard her mumble something. “What was that?” She pulled away to look at you, sitting in the corner of the bed.

“Ask me,” it took a moment to figure out what she meant, but you smiled.

“I love you, Wanda Maximoff. You are the love of my life and the best thing to ever happen to me,” more tears started to fall down her cheeks. “I can not imagine a world without you, Billy, and Tommy not in it. So, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Yes, yes!” She connected your lips together. This kiss was salty from her tears, but you missed the feeling of her lips against yours. You desperately wanted to deepen the kiss, but you were recovering from your injuries and in a hospital. Someone cleared their throat, and Wanda pulled away. She giggled at the pout on your face.

“I apologize for interrupting,” of course, it was Vision being a cock block. He smirked at the two of you. “But I have two kids that want to see you,” you smiled, and Wanda sat down, her hand still tight in yours.

“Yeah, they can come in.” Vision took a step to the side and the twins came running to your free side. They spoke a million miles a minute, even when Wanda told them to take deep breaths. But they were so excited to see you, you didn’t care you couldn’t understand them. You were grateful you were able to see them again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were a little tired. The ceremony was over, you danced with Wanda, Alexei, and Fury, and now your guests enjoyed the food and music. You sat at the sweetheart’s table while looking around the area. Clint’s kids were dancing with Alexei, Tommy and Billy were helping Morgan get food, and even Vision talked with Carol. This group was your family- this crazy, chaotic bunch. You smiled as Natasha tried to stop Yelena from getting more alcohol. You almost missed this; it was nearly taken from you.

Your time with HYDRA happened two years ago. In those years, you overcame the physical injuries, struggled with the mental ones, and took your company to new heights. Wanda quit her job at the diner and moved into your house. You even promoted Yelena to co-CEO. Everyone spoke highly about her when everything was going on. So you had more time to spend with Wanda and the twins. Life was going good. “Where’s the new wife?” Melina asked, taking her spot.

“Changing,” you sipped on your drink. Maria and Kate helped her get out of her dress and into a jumpsuit. “Are you enjoying the day?” The woman rolled her eyes.

“I feel as if I should be asking you that,” you chuckled and took another sip. You weren’t 100% sure what was in it, as Natasha made it. “Are you having a good day?” You nodded.

“I am,” you answered simply, and she waited for you to continue. “I’m just taking all this in,” you smiled at her. “All of this was almost taken from me.” Melina nodded.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Of course, you remembered. It was your father’s weekend per the custody agreement. The man was drunk on the couch, and you snuck out of the house. In your defense, you thought the house was empty. You’ve been watching it all day; no one left or entered. You were bored, so you climbed over their fence and opened the window to their living room. You weren’t expecting to come face to face with a hunting rifle and a woman holding it.

You thought she was going to kill you or, worse, call the cops and have you arrested. Oddly enough, she put the gun down and offered you food. It was a warm meal you ate all week. You devoured it, and your neighbor thought you were going to choke. After you finished, she let you leave out the front door, and if you needed anything, you could come to her door and not the window.

The next weekend, you were at your father’s; you spent it with the Romanoffs instead. It was the happiest you’ve been. “I told Wanda that story, and she said she was surprised you didn’t shoot me,” the woman chuckled.

“I was surprised you dared to break into my home,” you smiled. You weren’t going to take anything. At your age, you liked to do stupid things to prove that you could do it. The woman took your hand. “You have done a lot of growing, but you will always be my little petard (firecracker). You found your family. I am so proud.”

“I always had a family—you, Alexei, Natasha, and Yelena. It just got a little bigger because of you. " You could never thank them enough. You paid off their house, got rid of Yelena’s student debt, and bought Alexei and Melina a new car. Still, it never felt like enough. “Thank you, mama.”

Your wedding wasn’t traditional. Wanda walked down the aisle, and the twins handed her off before taking their seat next to Vision. Alexei and Melina walked you down. Fury married you and Wanda. Melina smiled and kissed your cheek. You heard footsteps walking over to you. “Hi, Melina,” Wanda said. Oh, please keep sitting,” she added as the woman stood up from her spot.

“It is fine,” Melina smiled. “I have to remind Alexei that there is a drink limit.” You tilt your head to the side and look at Wanda.

“We didn’t put a drink limit,” you said.

“He has one, and I set it,” you laughed as Melina walked over to Wanda. She gave her a hug and whispered something in her ear. Your wife nodded, and Melina kissed her cheek and walked over to Alexei. Wanda sat back down in her seat, and you immediately kissed her.

“I missed you,” you mumbled against her lips. Wanda laughed and shook her head.

“I was gone for more than 10 minutes,” you pouted.

“So sorry I missed my wife,” her cheeks blushed. Wanda was your wife. You’d never get tired of calling her that. “What did Melina say to you?” She took your drink and sipped on it.

“That’s disgusting,” she cringed. “Natasha made that for you, didn’t she?” you nodded and smiled when you took another sip. “I guess I’ll have to thank her later,” she winked at you, and it was your turn for your body to heat up. You pinched her side. “Melina told me to make sure I keep your heart good,” you glanced at the woman who smiled at you. You took Wanda’s hand and kissed the ring on her finger.

“I love you,” you said. “You are one of the reasons my heart is good and why I want to keep it good.”

“You are,” Wanda paused, and you waited for her to gather her words. Unbelievable. I thank my lucky stars that I ran into you at the coffee shop. " You laughed and kissed the ring again. Footsteps rapidly ran over to the table.

“You promised you’d play a round of corn hole with us,” Tommy said. You playfully rolled your eyes.

“We have to play before you get too drunk!” Billy added on with a smile. Your jaw dropped, and Wanda covered your mouth as she laughed.

“Who says I’m getting drunk?” Billy rolled his eyes.

“1, it’s your wedding.”

“And 2,” Tommy wrapped his arms around your neck. “We saw Natasha make that drink. I’ll be surprised if you’ll be standing when you are done with it.” His laughter hurt your ears, but it was a sound you loved.

“You little shit,” you said and stood up. You were able to maneuver Tommy onto your shoulder. The boys’ laughter continued as you walked over to the small area where you had lawn games.

“Dad claimed you to be on his team, which I find very unfair,” you dropped Tommy back onto his feet. He shook his head.

“We’ll take turns,” you ruffled Tommy’s hair, and he ran over to Vision. Billy stood by your side. “Are you having fun so far?” you asked him. He nodded, but you saw that he was in deep thought. “What is it, bud?” Suddenly, his body slammed into yours for a hug.

“I’m glad you are part of our family,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said, and Billy ran to the empty corn hold board. Once upon a time, you dreamed of a family like this. Now you had it, and you would not let it go.

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #Wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff one shot #wanda maximoff x y/n

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wonryllis · 9 months ago

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AGENT HEESEUNG ★ LITTLE BIT DANGEROUS BABY, THAT'S HOW I WANT IT.

惹き付ける 𓈃 ﹙where,﹚ agent red gets distracted on a mission.

001 ꗃ. agent heeseung headcanons 640 words! warning MDNI NSFW; mentions of fingering crdt! of edit @hypenwons on tiktok LIB?

"stop staring at her," jay's voice rings in heeseung's earpiece.

"what?" he's too lost in thoughts like? dude you got a national level mission to do where's your mind at?

less than two hours ago he was in prehaps THE MOST secret facility in the country going over plans of an undercover search that he was SPECIFICALLY CHOSEN for

and here he is now leaning against the countertop of the bar with a fancy drink in hand

surely it wasn't alcoholic, he can't afford to be intoxicated in the slightest bit, right?

"olive green knit crop and black pants, you're staring," the venom and warning in jay's voice bites back from the control room

heeseung takes a sip of his mocktail and sighs there's no way literally no way, jay's gotta be kidding

"i'm not staring," this has to be a joke because why is jay not kidding, it's been fifteen minutes and his eyes just keep following you and your every move

from the way your mouth shapes as you laugh amidst the crowd of your friends(he assumes) to the way your lips touch the glass of vodka to the way your hips sway as you scurry to the dance floor

"you are, agent red," how your body moves to the music and the little peaks of skin that show and how it just seems to glisten under the disco lights.

"shut it, you have a mission to focus on," with the high tech glasses on, he can see the remnants of the liquid shining on your lips each time you drink a glass.

he can not help but be drawn to those beautiful colored lips

in fact your whole existence is quite literally making him go crazy, his thoughts running to such places that he absolutely should not be thinking about on a mission for fucks sake

if he were to just walk over and kiss you right now he wonders what you'd taste like, vodka? tequila? flavored cocktails? sweet and addicting? BINGO!

"yeah whatever," heeseung chugs in his drink and puts the glass back on the counter, zeroing in on you one last time.

"what? what did you just say heeseung-" rip jay. we'll miss you dearly

BEFORE HE TAKES OUT HIS EARPIECE AND GLASSES TURNING THEM OFF AND SHOVING INTO HIS SUIT POCKETS KSJHKKS

in the blink of an eye he's right behind you, slyly putting his hands on your waist as he joins you on the crowded dance floor standing impossibly close kshjsjd

and like an incubus bends to whisper in your ear, voice husky and tempting. he knows how to charm his way * - *

"you wanna dance together, pretty?" (died.)

the entire time his hands roam everywhere and anywhere caressing your curves shamelessly (if that's not heeseung)

it doesn't take long though for him to initiate a kiss, isn't that what he dropped his mission for?

but god forbid how wrecked he was about to be,, for the moment his lips touched yours, lee heeseung knew

HE WAS DAMN SURE INTOXICATED (can you hear me screaming?)

sucking and biting on your lips wasn't enough for him he just wanted more, so much more 👀

"does it feel good baby?" he can not stop staring at your face as his hand moves between your legs. fingers inside you with the thumb circling against your clit and the other hand around your neck holding you in a light choke

the way you suck in a breath, bite on your lips whinning to hold in a loud moan, the sounds going straight down against his tight pants and how your hooded eyes keep looking at him in a sultry daze.

WAY TOO INTOXICATED to realize you're the one he was supposed to find info on, and you have him exactly how you planned to, wrapped around your finger.

so, enemies to ?

TAGLIST. ( open ) @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue

#enhypen imagines #k-labels #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen headcanons #enhypen hyung line #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung smut #enhypen scenarios

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fandxmslxt69 · 11 months ago

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Terrible Liar

Avenger!Loki x Avenger!f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injury (reader has a nasty ass wound), mentions of blood and medical supplies, Loki and reader are both assholes to each other but its FUNNY. Rushed plot bc this came to me in a fever dream. Maybe some bad grammar, run on sentences etc. Ignore those ahaha. this is NOT edited or reviewed AT ALL. she's as raw as they come.

A/N: This came to be in a fever dream. Btw. Like God sent it to me. I'm sorry if it feels rushed I was so desperate to get it all down I blacked out. IT'S 5K OKAY MY BAD AHAHAH i'm kind of a slut for this kind of trope so MY BAD. anyway this is for THE @sarahscribbles 's Christmas Celebration!! Sorry I'm a little late, these two wouldn't shut the fuck up so I got carried away. ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ENJOY SARAH I LOVE YOU <3

Synopsis: What could possibly go wrong with spending a night sharing a room with Loki? (aka: enemies to lovers + one bed trope)

Word count: 5K

Oh man. You watched Loki bang the hood of the car in anger. That can’t be good.

You rested your head against the window of the stolen car, taking deep breaths. You could feel your whole body shaking from the adrenaline. You hadn’t calmed down a single bit since the ride out here. How long has it been? Probably less than an hour. You had no idea how far out you were from the nearest town and it absolutely was not the right time for this car to stop. Your entire body hurt from getting kicked in the ass repeatedly during the fight, and your head spun. Your left side throbbed and your shoulder screamed in agony. Not to mention, you are completely separated from the rest of the group, and you have no means of communication. Somewhere along the way, you had lost your comm, and your spare was of no use. Loki said the lines were down anyway, so it wasn’t much help to begin with.

Speaking of the devil, he threw the door of the car open, letting in the chill winter air, and huffed as he got back in, slamming the door behind him. “Stupid, useless vehicle. What is the point of transportation if it fails so easily?” He grumbled.

“It’s out of gas, genius,” “Well it’s not making for a very efficient getaway car,” He ran a hand through his hair. “Well?” You looked at him expectantly, but he only looked back with an expression of confusion. You sat up straighter to face him, but your vision blurred and your head swam. It took you a minute to collect yourself. “We can;t just sit here, we’ll freeze to death,” Loki scoffed. “No I won’t,” You clenched your jaw. “Okay, I’ll freeze to death,” “Tragedy,” His tone was dead as he pulled out his phone to mess with. “I’ll let them know it was a heroic death,” “You’re such an asshole,” “How original,” You nearly growled. “Laufeyson,” “Agent,” He replied smoothly, looking up at you with one of those disarming grins. You were not falling for it. You may be delirious and crashing soon, but you were not falling for Loki’s charms.

“We need to figure something out,” “You mean I need to figure it out,” “Oh my fucking god. I’m not gonna sit here like some passenger princess-” “Agent, you are trembling so hard you couldn’t even walk a foot much less help out in this little dilemma,” Loki interrupted. “I have no desire to starve out here, and horrifyingly, I can’t find it in my heart to let you die out here either. I’ll figure it out,”

You grumbled under your breath, and you were certain he heard you because he grinned wider and went back to messing with his phone.

He was right though, you were shaking really hard- both from the adrenaline and now, the cold. Whenever you exhaled, a puff of white air formed in front of you, and the tip of your nose was starting to go numb. The idea of leaving your fate at the moment in the hands of Loki was an absolutely horrifying idea, since you knew how reckless this guy tended to be. But you didn’t have much of a choice, and as much as it physically pained you to sit quietly and wait, you did just that. It was made another fifteen minutes before Loki peeled his eyes away from the phone pad. He opened the door to the car, and stepped out.

“Hey!” You yelled. “Where the hell are you going? Close the goddamn door!” But of course, he didn’t bother answering or listening. He looked around, staring at his phone occasionally before surveying the area again. And just when you thought he couldn’;t get more insane, he started walking away from the car. Your heart squeezed in your chest. Was he going to leave you here? Like hell he was. You kicked open your door, shakingly getting out of the car. You were vaguely aware of the stab of pain at your side that nearly had you doubled over as black spots danced in your vision, but you willed yourself to push it aside. You slammed the door shut as you walked out after Loki.

“Hey!” You yelled out to him. You had no idea if he could even hear you with the way the wind howled and snow whipped at your face. It was freezing cold, snow biting your cheeks and your teeth chattering after being out here for less than a few minutes. “Laufeyson!” You yelled louder, arm clutching your side and limping in the direction he walked in. No answer. You were positive a storm was kicking up.

“Loki!” You screamed this time, as loud as your voice let you. Your chest heaved, your throat hurt, and the air you gulped stung so bad you were so close to never breathing it again.

“Loki! God help me, Loki, when I find you!” You looked around slowly, yet all you saw was the outline of your stolen car in the winds, and white. So much white. “I’ll haunt you, you know!” You shouted into the wind. “If I die here, I’ll haunt you forever!” You had to shield your eyes from the harsh snow as you yelled. You knew he couldn’t hear you, but you also knew that he couldn’t have gotten too far. How long could he even last out here? Damn it, he could probably last a while.

Stupid, horrible, arrogant Loki. You contemplated going back to the car, but decided that if you were going to imagine a million and one ways to kill and haunt Loki for eternity, you might as well do it while freezing out here. You were only at number fifteen of your haunting possibilities when you heard his stupidly smooth voice. “What in the Nine Realms do you think you’re doing out here?”

You whirled around to find him standing there, absolutely unaffected by the weather or your situation. His cheeks were rosy and his pretty hair was up in a bun (that was more falling apart than anything) and pretty snowflakes hung in the curls.

He looked….well. He looked heavenly, to say the least.

“I was out here looking for you,” You shot back as harshly as you could, but with the way your teeth chattered and the small smirk that tugged at his lips, it didn’t seem to be working. “You should have stayed in the car,” He sounded almost…angry. Why the hell would he be angry when he left you behind? Although, the frown and furrowed brows were a little cute. “You shouldn’t have wandered off and left me behind,” “I was coming to get you,” “Like hell you were,” “I was,” He stepped closer to you, and you had to hold back everything to not huddle up closer to him like a goddamn penguin. He snapped his fingers and you felt something warm and heavy fall on your shoulders. “Put that on. We’re leaving,”

“Leaving?! Where the hell are we leaving?! Do I need to remind you that we are stranded in the middle of a storm?!”

Loki grumbled as he forcefully got you into the jacket he conjured. You didn’t bother saying thank you, which was fine because he only kept glaring at you before marching ahead.

“Where are you going?!” He didn’t bother answering. “Loki!” Assshit. You grumbled and huffed the entire time as you hurried after him, trying to block off the tingling ache at your side. You knew you didn’t get stabbed. Maybe it’s a big cut. You were certain you’d know if a knife had lodged itself into your side.

You had no idea where Loki was taking you but you kept your mouth shut in hopes that it was someplace warm and safe.

“Your hair looks like shit,” You blurted out. Okay, maybe not always keeping your mouth shut.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t look much better,” “Yeah but I said it first,” “Maybe I should have left you in the car,” “I would’ve still found you,” “Yes, haunting me forever,” “You heard that?!” He shrugged. “I was heading back to the car. You weren’t exactly quiet,” You stared at him with wide eyes. “And you didn’t even say anything,” “I found it too amusing to interrupt,” You frowned, shoving him with your shoulder. Wrong move apparently, because your vision started spinning and your knees nearly buckled. Loki wrapped an arm around you ever so gently, as if scared you’d shatter otherwise. “Stop talking,” He snapped. “And stop being so damn aggressive. I would like to make this journey without you collapsing on me,” “I’m not going to collapse,” You mumbled. “You always were a terrible liar,” He muttered under his breath, and more or less carried you to your destination. At first, you didn’t let him, but he won eventually, like he always did, and you leaned the rest of your weight onto him.

You had no idea where you were until you reached the smack middle of a small town. A picture perfect fantasy, almost. Little houses and small shops lined with lights and trees and covered in snow. It was like stepping into a Hallmark movie. Each house was so full of light, and even through the howling wind, you could hear the sounds of laughter and shrieking children.

How the hell did Loki find this place? “There’s a motel here. We’ll book rooms, spend the night. I’m sure there’s Wi-Fi too,” Loki sounded like he was talking more to himself than you.

“Freaking out?” You asked.

“Yes. I’m thinking of which way Stark will kill me if you die,” “Pfft. Tony wouldn’t kill you,” Loki raised his eyebrows but stayed quiet as he walked you both through the town. The storm was clearly picking up, and you were thankful that he had all those genes to keep him alive in this weather, and that he was able to find this place.

When you reached the motel- which appeared to be the only one in town- you couldn’t help smiling (even if you couldn’t feel your face at all anymore). It was a cute little building, rustic and heartwarming. Little snowmen lined the front, and a bed jingled as you and Loki entered. The inside was even better, with burgundy and gold designs and wallpaper that looked like it came straight out of a Victorian novel. It was cozy, and more importantly, warm.

You almost sobbed in relief as you practically collapsed onto an armchair by the counter. Your body sank into it, your nerves singing in joy as you slowly felt your fingertips again.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked.

You nodded. “Yup,” He made a sound of disapproval. “You need to lie better,” “Go shove your head through the wall,” You muttered back. He only grinned. Loki didn’t even appear fazed or relieved at the warmth, and simply marched up to the counter. There was no one there, and he rang the bell at least five times.

“Would you stop that?” You snapped after the sixth time.

“It’s a bell. It’s meant to be used,” “Not like that,” “It’s how you call for attention,” “Well I’m sure whoever runs this place will be here shortly,” He lasted a whole two minutes before he hit the bell again.

“Loki,” You hissed.

“Just a minute!” You heard a cheery voice call from the back, and a short old lady appeared, seemingly out of breath. “Sorry about that, all those damn stairs,” She chuckled to herself.

Loki flashed her a smile. “It’s not a problem at all,” “Oh my,” The old woman smiled back but this time you swore up and down she blushed a little.

Loki and his stupid, disarming smile.

“My…friend and I are a little caught in this storm,” He started, gesturing to you. You waved weakly at the lady and mustered up a smile. She probably thought you were crazy. You had no idea how you looked, but you knew it wasn’t how a normal person should.

“We were wondering if you had any available rooms for the night. Just two is fine,” He turned back to the lady with an even bigger smile.

“Well,” She smiled wider at Loki. “I’ll see what I can do,” He nodded, “Thank you…” he squinted at her name tag. “Lucy. Thank you very much, Lucy,” And there Lucy went, blushing and grinning at him again.

Horrible, absolutely tragic. The poor woman had no idea how insufferable Loki was.

Lucy rummaged through her desk, seemingly looking for keys to the rooms. She pulled out one, placing it on the counter, before going back to look for the other. You waited, tagging your foot on the wood floor, staring at the cute fireplace. Your whole body hummed in gratitude, and your feet tingle, feeling back in them.

“Oh dear,” Lucy muttered to herself.

“Everything alright Lucy?” Loki asked.

“It seems that I only have a single room available. This storm has the place booked fully,” She explained.

Hell no.

Loki sighed. “Very well-” “Are you sure?” You interrupted him. “Can you check again?” You probably sounded desperate, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You can’t share a room with Loki. You’d go crazy. You’d do something disastrous- like give in to the urge to cuddle into his chest! Or God forbid, tangle your hand in his hair.

“I did, hon. I’m afraid this is all I’ve got,” She said apologetically.

Fuuuuck.

“It’s quite alright, Lucy. There’s two beds in the room, correct? I’m sure we can manage to share a room for a night,” Loki said hastily before you could interrupt again.

Lucy opened her mouth, as if to say something else, before she stopped. “Alright,” “How much is it for the night, darling?” Oh okay, he was really laying it on thick then.

“Oh- oh um…” Lucy chuckled nervously. “This room….it’s 150$ for the night. You can pay in the morning, if you prefer,” “Nonsense,” Loki smiled, pulling out cash from the pocket in his top armour, counting the bills. “Here you go, Lucy,” He handed her the money. “Thank you so very much for your help,” She nodded wordlessly as she handed him the key. Loki took it and turned back to you, arms on his hips. “Are you coming, or must I carry you?” “I wouldn’t mind being carried…” You started jokingly. Apparently, Loki couldn’t read the room, because he frowned, shrugged and then walked over, picking you up effortlessly.

“Hey-!” You started to protest, but a sudden wave of pain shot through you, shutting you up. “I was joking,” You muttered.

“Mhm,” He said, shooting Lucy another smile before heading upstairs to your room. The stairs were cute too, you noticed, lined with a soft matt and cute lamps lined the walls. And Loki’s chest was really warm, and- that had nothing to do with the motel.

Before your thoughts could get any more dangerous, Loki stopped in front of a room, hand rummaging through his back pocket to get the key. “You can put me down now,” “I’ll put you down when I feel like it,” Shithead.

He unlocked the door and stepped in, closing it behind him with his foot. All businesslike, he walked over to the big bed and placed you down on it. It was comfy, and you had to control yourself from not falling back and getting it dirty in all your blood and gore. Loki looked you over. “Fine?” You nodded. “Fine,” He smiled and you were certain he was going to call you a liar but you stopped him. “Laufeyson?” “What?” “Where’s the other bed?” Loki froze, looking around the room slowly. “Oh,” “Oh?” He looked back at you. “It seems, darling, that there is no other bed,” “No fucking shit! You’re sleeping on the floor,” He looked at you in disbelief. “Absolutely not. We can share the bed like civilised people,” “Everyone always says that! And then it never works out!” You threw your hands up. You winced, immediately dropping your hands to hold your side. “Everyone? Who the hell is everyone?” “The movies, duh,” He stared at you. “You’re serious,” “Dead,” He ran a hand down his face. “Alright. We’ll split the bed or something. I truly don’t care enough. I simply want to sleep,” You shrugged. “Fine. Go shower first, then I’ll go in,” “I don’t have clothes to change out of, genius,” “You’re a god genius,” You replied mockingly. “I’m pretty sure you can snap your fingers and get us some clothes,” He stared at you, like he hadn’t had that thought at all. “Right.” And indeed, with a snap of his fingers, a pile of clothes appeared on the bed, and one in his hands. “Try not to get yourself killed,” “I hope you drown in the shower,” He smiled at you before heading into the washroom. You were finally alone, even for a few minutes. You breathed a sigh of relief. Being around Loki always ended with one of you flustered. Tragically, it tended to be you. You looked through the pile of clothes Loki summoned- a plain shirt that appeared way too large, and some plaid pants. They weren’t outrageous. You just had to make sure you hadn’t lost any limbs.

You slowly peeled off the layers of your top- the jacket, weapons, cash, your useless comms and phone- and then unzipped your equally-useless-in-the-cold vest. You laid all your things on the floor, not wanting to get the bed dirty. Then, slowly, you lifted your top just under your chest, sucking in a deep breath.

Fuck.

There was a nasty looking cut, starting from right under your ribs and nearly crossing the other side. You didn’t think it looked terrible, but you are almost certain it needed stitches. It wasn’t bleeding too much, but that might have to do with being out in the cold for too long than anything else- even your top was more or less soaked in blood.

You didn’t even have a first aid kit. You traced around the cut slowly, wincing when it hurt. You prayed it wasn’t infected.

“Alright, hm?” Your head snapped up to see Loki freshly showered and changed, his now useless mission suit nowhere in sight. “Um, yeah, I’m fine,” His jaw ticked. “You’re hurt,” “Yeah but I’m fine,” “You are bleeding,” He sounded ...angry. Was he mad at you? “It’s not like I did it on purpose,” You snapped.

He clenched and unclenched his fists. He opened his mouth to say something, before he shook his head and stormed out of the room.

“What the fuck? You called out after him. He didn’t answer as the door slammed behind him.

You had no clue why he had to be so mad. It’s not like you chose to get hurt, and you certainly weren’t going to ask him for anything, so why’d he get so pissy? You grumbled to yourself as you grabbed the clothes, heading into the bathroom to scrub off the day.

It took you a solid twenty minutes to wash everything out. You were very careful to not open your cut further, taking warm water to wash off the dried blood around it.

You tugged on the plain shirt as you stepped out of the bathroom. You winced when you reached up to tie your hair, deciding to just leave it down to dry. You had thrown your old clothes on the pile of Loki’s in the bathroom, and used a spare towel to press against your wound.

“Welcome back,” You said sarcastically when you found Loki sitting on the bed.

“Come here,” He said curtly.

“You can’t just order me around after you walk out you know? And you can’t get bitchy with me for no fucking reason-” “Will you please come sit down so you can look at your wound,” Loki snapped, but it didn’t sound harsh. It was almost…pleading. You froze in your spot, blinking slowly at him. His voice sounded devastated and in your daze, you nodded, slowly walking over to sit on the bed beside him.

“May I?” He gestured to your shirt and you nodded again. He lifted it over your head, and suddenly you were thankful for putting on the sports bra Loki brought with your clothes.. “You didn’t say anything,” He whispered.

You swallowed. This was too freaky. You never got this close with Loki. “We-...we had other things to worry about,” You swore his hands trembled as he reached into the first aid kit beside him. Where did he get that? Did he run out to buy one? Damn it. You and Loki didn’t do fluffy shit. The one day you needed him to be an asshole….

He took his time cleaning the wound, and you tried your best to keep your yelps of pain down.

“Do you want stitches?” Loki asked in a soft tone. He looked ...frightened. And why too pale. Did he get squirm-ish at this stuff?

“Are you a medical professional?” You asked.

“Farthest thing from it,” You hummed. “Just wrap it up,”

He nodded, grabbing some cotton pads and the gauze. He carefully placed the pads onto the wound, and began wrapping the gauze around your waist. His fingers brushed against your skin, and you shivered at the touch.

“There,” He exhaled, pulling his hands away. “You can put your shirt back on,” “Yeah,” You nodded. You should definitely grab it now. You should probably put it on. But you didn’t move a muscle, not with the way Loki stared at you, and the way his eyes dipped lower occasionally. He looked away, appearing flustered, his fists clenched on his thighs. “Loki?” “What?” He snapped.

“Why are you so angry?” “You could have died,” His voice died down to nothing but a desperate whisper. “You could have died,” You opened your mouth to protest, to say that you had it under control and that everything was fine, but he shook his head.

“Don’t you dare say everything was ‘fine’. You’re still such a terrible liar,” You weren’t. He just had that freaky ability to tell when you lied every damn time.

“You could have died. Human life is so horribly fragile, you could have died at any second. What was I to do then, hm? Stare at your lifeless body?” “I thought you’d rejoice at my death,” You joked, trying to break the tension. His eyes snapped to look at yours, his jaw clenched and his eyes wide with fear. You thought he’d say something, but instead he just leaned in, crushing his lips harshly against yours. Before you could even react, he pulled away, breathing heavily.

“I would have died too. In the simplest terms, my heart would have stopped working the minute yours did too,” You froze in shock, staring at him with wide eyes. What just happened? Your lips tingled from the kiss. You wanted him to do it again. “What the hell are you saying, Loki?” “I’m saying that you are incredibly stupid and idiotic and completely selfish. And that I would rather die than live a life without you in it,” He started, his tone angry and desperate. Your head was spinning. Maybe there was drugs in the linen of this bed. Or maybe Loki hit his head.

“Say something,” Loki pleaded now, the fight gone from him. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass. I can’t help myself. I go crazy every time you’re around. I can’t think straight and I….I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve never done this before. I thought perhaps if I annoyed you enough, I’d get you out of my head. But Norns, every time you shot some clever remark back, it only egged me on more,” He was rambling at this point.

You felt confused, but at the same time a sense of relief washed over you. It wasn’t like you were in love with Loki- but you definitely didi entertain the idea of occasionally making out with him or spending the day shopping together.

So maybe it was a little crush.

And fuck, it was a relief to hear him blurt out how helpless he was with you.

“Did you black out?” Loki asked. He cursed under his breath, getting up to give you some space. “I apologise, I shouldn’t have said anything. I came off too strong,” He fumbled as he stood up, running a hand through his hair. “I just…I panicked. I apologise-” “Loki,” You stopped him from spiralling further, even if it was cute to see his usually composed self dissolve. You shuffled over to him on your knees. Even while on the bed, he was still fucking giant. You cupped his face and pulled him down, pressing a kiss to his lips.

You pulled away after a second, dizzy from the feel of his lips on yours. It was better than you could have ever imagined. He stared at you in shock, lifting his fingers up to press them to his lips. You nearly died right there.

“What was that for?” he asked, shocked.

You laughed, kissing him again. He leaned into it this time, wrapping his arms carefully around your waist, his lips pressing against yours.

You kissed him again and again and again, until you were both breathless and his lips were swollen and you were sure yours were too.

“You’re really fucking insufferable, by the way,” You muttered against his lips. He hummed, chasing after yours as you pulled away. “You drive me insane. You’re in my head all the damn time, I can’t get rid of you,” “Don’t get rid of me, then,” He captured your lips in another bruising kiss. “I don’t plan to,” You sighed happily as you shuffled back onto the bed, pushing aside bandages and gauze wrap and wipes. Loki was a lot neater, taking his time to put them away onto the night table. He crawled into bed with you, his body hovering over yours, hands on either side of your head, caging you in. He leaned down, pressing another kiss to your lips. One kiss turned into two, into three, and then you were making out lazily, your lips crushed together, heavy pants and heated breaths for god knows how long. Tragically, Loki rolled off of you, laying down beside you. You took deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart.

Loki shifted, laying now on his side to look at you. You did the same, smiling softly. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“If you couldn’t tell, I’m not quite a people person,” You chuckled. “No, I guess not,” He could be your person though.

Maybe that’s too early to say. You kept your mouth shut.

“Did I come off too strong?” “Nah,” You shook your head, reaching out to wrap your finger around a lock of his hair. “It was a Hallmark-worthy confession,” “What in the Norns is this Hallmark?” You laughed. “It’s a company. It makes lots of cheesy rom coms, all of which have some sort of frustratingly handsome male lead and big confessions,” “So you’re saying I’m handsome,” He grinned devilishly.

“Can’t deny it,”

He leaned in and kissed you again. You kissed him back but then pushed him off. “Stop it. I’ll become addicted,” He leaned back in. “Not a problem. I have no plans to go anywhere,” You ducked away from him, laughing. “If you keep making out with me Loki Laufeyson, we will be having sex,” His brows furrowed. “Absolutely not. Not while you’re injured,” Damn.

“Fine, then stop kissing me,” “Well that’s unfair. I just got started!” You shrugged. “It’s not my call,” He huffed, pulling you closer, your back flat against his chest. His arm wrapped carefully around your waist, the hand coming to rest just under your wound. “Go to bed then. Before I do something crazy,” “I like crazy. I’m quite fond of crazy,” “Yes, crazy seems to follow you everywhere. It might be your whole identity, really,” “Is that an insult?” A pause. “I don’t think so,”

You fell silent for a minute. “I think Lucy has a crush on you,” Loki laughed. “What makes you say that?” “Um, the way she blushed when you smiled at her? You laid it on so thick,” You could hear the shiteating grin as he spoke. “I have no idea what you mean, darling. I spoke to her like a normal person,” “Hm,” You wiggled closer to him. “Nah, you definitely were charming her,” His hand squeezed your hip.

“Stop that,” “What?” You feigned innocence.

“Stop moving,” You wiggled your ass again, just for a bit of emphasis. “What? This?”

You swore the sound he made then was some growl. “You find new ways to annoy me every day,” “It’s my talent,” “And you excel at it,” You truly did. No one ever got under his skin like you did. And now with this new layer of your relationship, you have an infinite number of possibilities.

You knew you guys should probably talk. Figure out where you stand. A plan for tomorrow morning. Try to communicate with the team. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care right now though. Loki was warm, and as he peppered kisses across your shoulder, you felt like maybe tomorrow would be a good day too.

“I still think you’re an ass,” You mumbled, your eyes half closed.

He laughed, the sound vibrating in his chest. “Truly a terrible liar,” He pressed a kiss under your ear. “I still think you are the bane of my existence,” “The only one?” “The only one,” You hummed, content with the answer. You could figure things out tomorrow. Tonight, you just wanted to lay in this haze of sunshine. To sleep and wake up to get drunk on Loki again.

Tags: I'm gonna tag a few people because I think I'm silly and this is my second little christmas-y fic so what the hell i dont care LMAO. DONT FEEL OBLIGED TO READ <3 @sarahscribbles @divine-knight-hand @holdmytesseract @joyful-enchantress @saturn-rings-writes

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson fluff #loki x f!reader #loki fanfiction #loki fic

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floofeh-purpi · 5 months ago

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Getting isekai'd?! (Pt. 1)

please bro I dont have the motivation to make a decent title

Sagau! Genshin Fatui x Gn! Reader (ft. Your bsf)

Warnings: Cursing, spelling errors maybe, reader has a dog, your bsf involved lol, this shits as short as my lifespan 💔

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

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Nah... NAH... Ain't no fucking way...

..Bro.

The fuck is this place?! That was your first thought as soon as you went outside to touch some grass. (cuz bro tf is the last time you even touched the ground outside?!). Except the ground you touched was soft.

And cold. You blind ass somehow didnt see the snow

You flinched at the coldness of the ground, not noticing it was snow, you immediatly went back inside to your bedroom and warm your ass up. Ayo wait...

Wait is this one of those isekai fanfics?! *ehem* get the fourth wall builder please

Except...

Bitch your house somehow also got isekai'd with you in this... well, place. Hey atleast you have your dog with you. Yey! But regardless...

It doesn't change the fact that you're literally in the middle of nowhere. What. Anygayyys, you check your phone to see the time.

3:10am. You could've sworn your phone wasn't fully charged cus it was like, what, 30% last time. But eh, you brushed it off.

"Wow, such a great time to be awake." You thought sarcastically.

Suddenly, (y/b/f/n) (your best friend's name) yawned.

"Bro... why the fuck is it looking so cold outsi— Woah..." Your best friend's sleepiness mysteriously disappeared as they looked outside at the snowy terrain.

"The fuck is we in right now bro?"

"Dunno, bet we got isekai'd into another world like in those fanfics." You shrugged.

"I feel like exploring with (d/n)." You suddenly said after an awkward amount of silence. "Omg sureeee!" (Y/b/f/n) happily said.

You and (y/b/f/n) dressed up in matching jackets thats thicker than your class pick me's skull omfg frfr in your favorite shade of (f/n) and you both wore the hoods on your head. You both went downstairs to get your dog that was outside in the backyard. Your dog is so loyal that it doesn't even wanna escape. W dog.

*Insert y'all going outside*

"Omfg why does she/he have to be so cute?!?!!" Your best friend thought as they petted your husky's head.

You both ended up walking the dog together cus ya'll nothing else to do, not knowing that a group of fatui agents practically saw you both.

★☆★☆

Omg I finally written what I always wanted to write! :D

Also bro sorry if this is too short for you I don't really write long chapters cus I get lost literally 100% of the time ☹

Published in: June 27, 2024 at 10:22am.

【Part 2】

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liyawritesss · 7 months ago

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-> 𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎...

-> 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢!

-> 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝....

-> 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍! 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘...

𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 !

—> OVERVIEW

—> The death of Bruce Wayne has shaken the city of Gotham to its core. His presence defined the very city he vouched for for years, and while many mourned the death of one of the city’s highest elites, no pain could be compared to that of (y/n)’s, eldest daughter and heir to the Wayne Family. The beloved father-daughter duo were the saving grace of Gotham City; Bruce pouring his attention into politics, social and criminal justice and technology, and (y/n) strongly advocating for the arts, social change and socio-economical and political reform. With tragedy in the air and crime running amuck in the streets, what will become of the brilliant and beautiful (y/n) Wayne amidst the turmoil within her city, within her family, and within her own heart?

—> OBJECTIVES

—> (y/n) has not spoken since arriving at the Belfry. She spends her days reminiscing on the times when Bruce was alive, holding on to what little memories she has. Much of her memories are stored in the gifts Bruce had given her over the years, as well as moments the family has shared together. Your task is to retrieve these objects from across Gotham and unlock core memories of the heiress’s childhood with the Wayne family, in hopes to restoring (y/n) back to her original self.

CHOOSE YOUR ROUTE

MAIN STORYLINE

NIGHTWING | RED HOOD | ROBIN | BATGIRL

ADDITIONAL ROUTES UNLOCKED

ALFRED PENNYWORTH | BRUCE WAYNE

🇫🇮🇳🇩 🇹🇭🇪 🇮🇹🇪🇲🇸

🇷🇪🇱🇮🇻🇪 🇹🇭🇪 🇲🇪🇲🇴🇷🇮🇪🇸

🇪🇽🇵🇪🇷🇮🇪🇳🇨🇪 🇹🇭🇪 🇱🇮🇫🇪 🇴🇫

🇬🇴🇹🇭🇦🇲’🇸 🇩🇦🇷🇱🇮🇳🇬

🇨🇱🇮🇨🇰 🇾🇴🇺🇷 🇷🇴🇺🇹🇪 🇹🇴 🇵🇱🇦🇾

🇳🇴🇼

⚠️This Series Will Contain: canon-accurate violence with weapons such as guns, knives, batons, customized batman gear and other vigilante gear, hand to hand combat, mentions of blood, injuries, heavy talk about grief, depression, anxiety, major character death (bruce wayne/batman). Readers discretion is advised.

Tag List: @punkeropercyjackson @insomniac-jay @neesieiumz @honeypotsworld @honeybleed @hellkaiserinphoenix @saintriots @agent-nobody-knows @badass-dora-milaje @sincerelyzee @anuttellaa

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berryicet · 6 days ago

Note

I love the bird au so much that I almost want to write a fic about silly stick birds.

JEHWKGJD

I love Victim and Agent so much- especially the new art of them- (AGENT WHACKING ALAN- XD-)

ALSO- Blue and Yellow. I love their designs- canary and bluejay I love them- pretty birds.

What bird is Agent? I don't think it's ever been mentioned- or if it has I have missed it.

he's a hooded crow:)

here's the rest of the mercs since they're the last ones to get birdified

#alan becker #my art #animation vs animator #ava mercenaries #stickbirds #asks

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pedgito · 2 years ago

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summary | a new place, a new job, and new problems arise soon thereafter. javier manages to weasle his way under your skin in more ways than one. the first—stealing your designated parking spot. (7.5k+ words)

pairing | javier pena x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, subtle pining/suffering on javi's part, very little reference to narcos plot (so, readable if you've never watched), strangers to enemies to...whatever this is, fingering/oral (f receiving), sex & subtle aftercare, open ended, using my very limited knowledge of spanish (pls feel free to correct me)

author's note | translations are spread throughout. this is my first dip into any character outside of my norm so this is mostly just for fun, but to anyone reading, enjoy!

You liked to think you were as level-headed as they came, always seeing the best in people, always giving them the benefit of the doubt, even here in a place that feels foreign, fresh off the job of a position you were hired to a few weeks ago. Not even a month yet and you were already on the precipice of your first problem.

A situation, perhaps.

You extensively remember paying for the specific parking spot correlating to your apartment number. It was simple, you paid for it, so by those laws, it was yours.

Yet somehow, there’s always a car parked in your space.

The first time isn’t a problem, opting to fill the blank spot next to it that is assigned specifically for visitors anyways. How could they have known?

It’s not a big deal. Until it happens again.

Same car, same color. That Jeep Cherokee was turning into your arch-nemesis, one more day of stealing your parking spot away from your keys digging into the paint of the driver’s side door.

Well, you weren’t that evil. But, you were definitely thinking about it. And maybe part of the problem was how unexpectedly stressful your job actually was, working alongside a bunch of macho, testosterone filled DEA agents with a severe lack of manners and time-management outside of catching the bad guys.

It always left you with a mountain of paperwork to deal with, not to mention that ridiculous errands and goose chases you were sent on for a file, or a can of fucking coffee beans because no one had the sense to replace them when they ran out.

And maybe if the car stood out more you would’ve clocked it earlier, but it doesn’t.

There comes a point where you can’t take the blatant disregard any longer, poised to catch the culprit in the act as you lean against the front hood of the car, jingling your apartment keys around your finger, rehearsing your supposed speech to scare off whoever owns the car.

But, that falls dead on your tongue the moment the owner descends the stairs, appearing from the same floor your own apartment resided on, eyes widening in disbelief.

It was a miracle you both had avoided each other this long.

“Javier?” You spit out, like a bad taste in your mouth.

Javier eyes you weirdly, still speaking calmly, “Hola, hermosa—I think. You live here?”

You nod slowly, wondering why he seemed so calm, so unbothered.

Ah, right. He wasn’t the one worrying about a parking spot, rather, he was the one stealing it.

“Yeah, por un par de semanas.” (for a couple of weeks)

Not that it mattered to Javier.

He laughs under his breath, fiddling with his own keys as he reaches for the handle. You push away from his car, standing steady on your own two feet, arms crossed over your chest and rubbing against the buttons of your blouse, still dressed up from work.

“You’re parking in my spot, Javier.”

Javier eyes the surrounding area, seeing nothing amiss.

“Where’s your car?” He asks, avoiding the accusation entirely.

“Right there,” You point at the car parked beside him, eyes narrowing at his lack of reaction, “beside my parking spot. You know, el que yo pago para.” (the one I pay for)

“Cariño,” and if there was a word that could make your blood boil quicker, it was that, the same condescending tone he always used, “I’ve had this spot for weeks.”

“But it’s mine now, Peña.”

“And mine sucks,” He admits, “this is the only shaded area around the building, it’s fuckin’ hot out, my car—“

“Isn’t my problem!”

He’s never heard you shout before, feeling the frustration radiating from your frame.

It was yours, rightfully so. But, that did change the fact he’s been parking there for weeks now, stubborn as he is. Javier isn’t budging either.

“What’s wrong with that one?” He asks, motioning toward your car beside his.

“I’m not paying for that one. I’m paying for this one.” It really is that simple, but you’re starting to think he had rocks for a brain, nothing rattling around up there besides catching Escobar and cheap sex he could catch on the regular with a bit of cash.

Yes, you knew—most of those men were one in the same, bachelors with a yearning to get off but not enough game to score it for free.

“No te soporto,” It’s a soft mumble under your breath, something meant for yourself, even if it was aimed at Javier, before looking at him, “fuck this, keep it.” (I cannot stand you)

Javier stares for a while, a moment too long in fact, his eyes lingering on the stretched fabric of your shirt, pulled tight over your chest where your arms cross, quickly traversing their way back up to your face, watching his entire trail of eyesight with annoyance.

“That’s it?” Javier definitely expected more of a fight, but you rolled over and keeled so fast he almost wishes you would’ve fought harder. He’s feeling gracious today though, so extends whatever metaphoric branch he had to give.

“You clearly don’t give a shit,” He’s leaning against the side of his car’s front hood now, diagonal to you as you take a few steps back, crossed arms moving until your hands met your hips, “but I’m the one running errands for you dumbasses all day, so we’ll see how long this lasts.”

In most cases that would come off as a death threat, but to you, it just meant smuggling sugar into his coffee instead of straight black like he usually enjoyed—just enough to fuck up his morning a little, throw him off kilter and enjoy the look on his face when it turns up in disgust, amongst other things.

“Eres malvada,” Javier comments amusingly, “are you trying to start a war?” (you are evil)

You shrug, “What’s one more to the one we’re already dealing with?”

You find it as a reason to get under his skin, drive him mad. But, Javier has a different reason in mind, luckily he loves a challenge—he wasn’t giving in that easily.

The office is sticky, the scolding, dry Bogotá heat feeling like you’re sitting in the center of a fire that ignited overnight—and the AC was out, meaning the tiny, measly little fan on your desk had to do.

Somehow, Javier seems unphased aside from the line of sweat on his forehead, shirt unbuttoned enough that you can see the start of his sternum, tanned skin hidden behind the baby blue fabric. His tie was laying on his desk beside his coffee—safe from you, for the time being.

Steve is close behind, not surprising, those two chasing each other’s tails like eager puppies. But, Murphy was sweeter than Pena, that much was clear.

He wasn’t holding your parking spot hostage.

“Hermosa,” Javier nods, tapping his fingertips against the patchy spot of wood on the front desk, “good morning, I hope?”

Not in the slightest.

Your eyes flick up wordlessly, stapling the stack of papers with more force than necessary before sliding it into his other hand, his fingers moving in time to catch the stack as it slides forward.

“Trouble in paradise?” Steve jokes, smiling as the words leave his mouth. “She looks like she’s ready to gut you.”

“She is,” It’s a confirmation that has Javier’s face turning up in annoyance, “can I do anything else for you? More paperwork, more coffee—“

“Actually—” Javier starts, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Good,” You turn away, picking up the large stack of files to head toward the filing closet, “ve a atrapar a tu el malo.” (go catch your bad guy)

His eyes linger as you walk away, Steve’s muffled voice coming into focus as you fade, rounding a corner as the click of your heels become softer.

“You managed to piss of the nicest person here,” Steve comments, whistling lowly, “I’m not gonna ask how you fucked that up, because it seems pretty obvious already—“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Javier asks, throwing his head over his shoulder as he looks at Steve.

“Either bad sex or you’re just being an asshole,” Steve suggests, wiggling two fingers out suggestively, pushing his index down to flip his partner off, “easily both but I’m guessing it’s probably the second one.”

Javier shoved his hand away, forcing the file into Steve’s chest.

“She wants me to give up a parking spot I’ve had since I got here,” He explains, “not happening.”

Steve squints slightly, eyes narrowing on Javier. There was more to the story, but Javier was conveniently leaving that out.

“I didn’t even know she lived there,” Javier adds, somehow trying to convince himself he’s in the right, “it’s a good fuckin’ spot.”

“Pissin’ her off for it?” Steve shakes his head in disapproval, “Can’t be that good, Javi.”

The week drags on, miserable in the heat and with working piling up by the day, it feels never-ending.

And somehow, Javier always manages to make it home before you, even when you both leave at the same time.

As frustrated as you are, things get a little easier when you start getting under Javier’s skin.

Steve bothers you for a cup of coffee one morning, insisting that you always make it better than him—it’s just a matter of overloading it with milk and sugar, knowing that Steve likes it sweet even when he doesn’t want to admit it.

Most of the men drank it black, out of solidarity or whatever—Javier just enjoyed the bitterness. How convenient.

So, his hesitancy when you hand him a cup is warranted.

“You fuck with it?” He asks suspiciously.

“Steve asked for a cup,” You shrugged, pressing it into his hesitant, waiting hand, “I’m just being nice.”

But, one sip from the cup ensures that you weren’t being nice at all as he quickly spits it back into the cup, much to the amusement of you and Steve, who sips happily from his own mug.

“I lied.” You grin triumphantly, sliding his unfinished paperwork in front of him, “Nos vemos, vecino.” (see you, neighbor)

Steve chuckles under his breath, watching the interaction unfold. When you finally leave, Javier is staring at his desk, cup forgotten.

“Like I said,” Steve repeats, “can’t be that fuckin’ good.”

“Shut up,” Javier replies, chair screeching in protest as he stands, “who fucks with someone’s coffee?”

“A seriously pissed off neighbor, apparently.”

And if looks could kill, Steve would be dead.

And Javi thinks that the coffee incident would annoy him the most, but even more, it’s the blatant disregard of his presence on most instances, holding a complete conversation with Steve in his company, not a single greeting his way.

He still greets you every morning. All the same aside from his occasional switch up of endearment.

Cariño, Hermosa, Querida when he felt particularly snarky—but just as you hoped it would get under his skin, Vecina slices like a knife. You dared to use it first, but the tone of his is nothing but feigned fondness.

That and when he opts for your name instead, sickeningly sweet as it rolls off his tongue.

Either way, he notices your effort to ignore him.

Taking out the trash and running into him in the hallway? It’s like you walk right through him.

Running into him at that market down the road from your complex? He’s practically a stranger.

And work? It was harder to ignore him, but you did your damndest to make him feel less than.

It was working great, until it couldn’t.

It’s dark out by the time you see him again that day, covered by the orange of the streetlight overhead and kicking yourself as you stare at the contents under the hood, not having a single clue what you were looking at, what the problem was or what it could be.

“Staring at it won’t fix anything,” Javier startles you, nearly jumping out of your skin as he approaches, shoulder bumping against his chest at his close proximity ,“woah, easy, vecina. Just me.”

Somehow that was worse.

“Car trouble?” Javier asks.

“Among other things.” You snark back, but your voice doesn’t hold the venom you think it does. “Don’t tell me you know shit about how to fix this.”

“I don’t,” He admits with ease, “heading out?”

You sigh, deep and tired as you finally give up and close the hood, wiping your dirty hands on your jeans.

“Not anymore,” Javier takes a quick look at your outfit, jeans and a low-cut top that shows off the curve of your breasts, soft skin of your chest and a small amount of your midsection where your shirt pulls up as you shrug your shoulders, “what, Peña? What’s that look for?”

Javier shakes his head, rubbing his thumb along the tide of a spare key, “I’m meeting Murphy for drinks.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling you this, but he is—well, he does know. He’s hoping you might tag along, put an end to this back and forth between each other. He didn’t want to be the first to cave, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him to see you despise his existence every day.

“Sounds miserable.” You comment, throwing a warm smile for good measure, it’s so fake that even Javi can’t help but feel a little more offended than usual. “Tell Steve I said hi.”

Javier doesn’t get the chance to ask if you want to join before you’re sulking away, riddled with yet another inconvenience.

Javier catches you in the same position the next morning, dressed for work and shoulders slumped as you stare down blankly at the engine.

“Get in,” He orders, walking beyond your piece of junk and to his car, one hand resting on the hood, other resting on the door handle until you finally acknowledge him, “I can drive you to work.”

“Vete a la mierda,” You groan, “I don’t want your help.” (fuck off)

Javier doesn’t budge, yellow sunglasses perched on his nose, his thumb tapping against the car, “Get in the car.”

And he’s not against standing here until you were both late, but he’s already on the edge of getting his ass chewed out most of the time and he’s done with this—it, whatever game you two were still playing at.

“Think about it,” Javier jokes, “it’s almost like you’ll finally be putting that spot to good use.”

Okay, that might’ve been too much.

“Look, I’ll give you the fuckin’ spot if you stop looking at me like they and get in the damn car,” Not that it mattered now, with that hunk of metal sitting unmoving and useless beside it, "please?”

Javier’s not the type to beg, but the look on your face is soft, resembling defeat, and he wants to help.

“Why didn’t you just bring it up with management?” Javier asked, fist tightening around the wheel as he pulled to a stop. "If it bothers you that much."

“You mean Theresa?” You laugh to yourself, eyebrows furrowing in amusement as you cross your arms over your chest, “She’s pushing 80–don’t tell me she could actually intimidate you.”

Javier shrugs, “She’s got her moments.”

“Messing with you was more fun,” You shrug decidedly, “but it lost its momentum when you stopped being bothered by it.”

“So?”

“I’m stuck with a shitty parking spot, an even shittier neighbor, and now my car doesn’t work, so.”

The silence spoke for itself.

“I don’t mind driving you.”

“You’re missing the point,” He was just as dense as he was attractive and you hated it, “the least you could do is fuckin’ pay me.”

Javier gives you a wild look behind his shades, Jeep lurching forward as he continues the drive.

“For the spot, Javier. If you want it that bad.”

“Oh,” He nods, “Yeah, I can do that.”

That was…easier than you anticipated.

Things improve slightly after that, still giving Javier the cold shoulder on most instances, born out of your own stubbornness.

But he always greets you with a smile, one that you try to return. Plus, you were in better spirits today now that the building had working air and it wasn’t absolutely miserable trying to get work done.

“Here,” Javi pulls you from the chart on your desk, eyes connecting with the small wad of cash, “for what I owe you and then some.”

And you shouldn’t feel guilty taking the money, but you do.

He lowers his voice slightly as you pocket the cash, palms pressed against your desk as he leans in, “I need a favor.”

You sigh through your nose, threading your fingers together and resting them between his outstretched arms, challenging him with a steely look in your eyes.

He slides a small wad of paper he had hidden in his palm toward your hands, “I need those files, can you get them for me?”

You glance at the list of names, looking up at him incredulously, his face not moving an inch. It seemed serious, but it still didn’t justify the fact that he’s absolutely lost his mind.

“I could get fired for taking these out of the building,” You argue in a hushed whisper, “first you want to take my spot and now you want me to risk my job?”

His eyes soften slightly.

And then there’s that word again.

“Cariño, please?”

“How badly do you need them?”

He gives you another silent look of pleading, the tip of his tongue licking at the corner of his mouth as he nods to Murphy several feet away, looking just as desperate. If it wasn’t for Steve, you probably would’ve said no.

“You’re lucky I like Steve,” You admit, shoving the paper into the same pocket the money was stashed away in, “and that you’re down the hall from me.”

His fingers wrap around your wrist firmly when your arm resurfaces, posture instantly stiffening at that movement. His eyes are wide, staring through you almost.

“Thank you.”

And you can see that he means it.

It’s a strange look you haven’t seen before but it’s real.

“You owe me, Javi,” Under the context of what, you weren’t sure, “I mean it.”

The softness you add to his name is enough for Javier to realize that whatever anger you held toward him was slowly disappearing.

The last thing you’re expecting when you exit the sanctioned filing room is a solid chest to the face, and a surprisingly soft hand gripping your shoulder to steady you.

“Hey, Javi sent me,” Steve says lowly, glancing around the corner to check for an all clear—the place was mostly deserted due to the unexpected raid Javier was leading on a few of Escobar’s men, nothing huge, but enough to need backup, yet somehow Steve got shafted, “he’s caught up in something and my place is on the way.”

“Is he okay?” It feels foreign to ask, but given he’s also in a slightly disturbed state, breathing faster than normal like he’d ran here.

“Yeah, yeah. Peña’s always good. Don’t worry about him.”

“And you?” You inquire, sliding the files behind your bag, keeping them out of view, “Why aren’t you with him? I thought you two were partners.”

“My wife, she’s had this date planned out for weeks,” Steve nods toward the front, asking for you to follow, “Connie, she’d skin me alive if I tried to cancel on her, again.”

“Sounds justified.” You shrug, flashing him a polite smile.

Steve nods knowingly.

“And about Peña—he’s difficult, I know.”

“Understatement of the year, Steve.”

“I’m just trying to say that he’s really involved and sometimes that stress kinda…transfers over outside of work.”

And somehow you find yourself at a stand-off with Steve, talking through the open windows of his car.

“So he’s an asshole, but it’s okay because work is a little hard on him?”

“That’s not what I’m sayin’,” Steve scratches at his forehead in search of the right words, hoping they’ll come to him, “I don’t even know why I’m trying to defend him but he’s surrounded by this shit all day, some of us can leave it here—it’s hard even for me some days—“

“Steve,” You bring him back, urging him toward the point, “is this going somewhere?”

“Javi is this job— but you are the one thing I catch him staring at beside our desk and the gun in his drawer. I don’t know, maybe he really does hate you that much, but I’ve known him long enough to realize that if he’s gonna let anyone’s fuck with his day to day, and his coffee, it would be you.”

“If you’re trying to suggest Javi’s in love with me, I’m going to assume you’re insane.”

“No—god, no. I don’t think Peña’s capable of that shit but maybe he’d ease up on being a hard-ass if you didn’t give him as much shit over the parking spot. Also, not sayin’ he’s in the right but is it really that important to you?”

You sling your bag into the passenger seat, following suit as Steve climbed into the car, “At first, yeah. It’s my first time out on my own, dealing with my own shit, and Javi already acts like he’s above it all so seeing that it was him, it set me off.”

Steve shrugs, turning on the ignition. “I think you two have too much in common, honestly. Maybe just…level with him? Have you two ever had a normal conversation outside of work?”

A subtle shake of your head is all Steve needs, then he’s laughing to himself, pulling out of the parking lot.

“What?”

“It’s nothing—“

“Steve.”

“It’s just—I assumed you two hooked up and Javi was a bad time because you went from mildly annoyed to out for blood overnight.”

“Doesn’t seem that far-fetched.” You admit, earning an even deeper chuckle out of Steve.

“See?” Steve boasts, “Don’t give him the time if you don’t think he deserves it, but I’m tired of him sulking around all the time. It’s miserable to look at.”

“And you think I can fix that?”

“Oh, I know it.”

Two hours and a shower later and you find yourself at Javier’s door wondering if it was already too late to try and knock or if you should just stuff the files underneath his door and leave, ignoring that fluttering feeling in your gut that told you to stay.

But, he’s yanking the door open before you can lift your hand, wondering if he heard you on the other side. He’s half dressed, jeans buttoned around his hips but his chest bare, towel hung over his frame signaling that he, also, had just finished up a shower.

The circles under his eyes were a little darker, the color in his eyes a little dull, and his knuckles looked bruised—whatever he’d been pummeling and knocking away at must’ve packed a punch.

“Hermosa, hey.”

Yet somehow he seems relaxed at the sight of you and you offer him the first real smile he’s seen since you met.

“Uh, got the files.” You force them out of your hands and into his, feeling like if you held onto them any longer they would burst into flames. You weren’t sure of the validity or importance of them, but you didn’t want to hold the responsibility any longer. “Everything…okay? Steve said—“

“Yeah. Bad info.” Javier says simply, “Doesn’t really matter.”

You nod slowly, fidgeting with your fingers behind your back, “You know,” and here was your attempt, “when Steve pulled up I joked about how this has to be the first time I’ve seen that parking spot empty since I’ve been here. Too bad my car is a piece of shit and I couldn’t even move it to take it back.”

Javier opens his door wider, bare feet sticking wetly against the wood floor as he moves. He clears his throat, a small chuckle that feels like a giant victory. But, he seems eager—no, antsy, ready to flee.

“Shit, you were going out, weren’t you?” He notices the quick glance you give to his frame, never lingering for too long on one spot. “Bebidas, chicas—that’s how you guys usually celebrate, right?” (drinks, girls)

“Nothing to celebrate,” Javier replies nonchalantly, “they all went home, so.”

“Oh.”

Javier glances back inside his apartment briefly, wallet and keys resting on the countertop, shirt thrown over the barstool by the island.

You both speak at the same time, his head turning back when he hears your voice.

“Goodnight, Javi—“

“Did you want to come inside for a minute?”

You pause, watching his hard exterior melt further.

“Um, sure.”

Thus, the deafening click behind you as you step inside, watching as he tossed the files along the island, before disappearing briefly and returning without a towel, still also without a shirt.

He looks perplexed, glancing over the files briefly.

“Do I wanna know?” You ask curiously, stepping alongside him before wandering a little further, glancing around his space.

It was polished, covered in dark furniture and normal amenities, perfectly plain. It looked half lived in, blanket thrown over the couch and a pillow shoved up against one side. Yet the open door down the hall showed a perfectly made bed. You don’t pry, but Javier can feel the judgment from a mile away. He switches the subject before it arises.

“It’s just work. Do you want something to drink?” He asks casually, sifting through his fridge, “Tento agua, jugo, cerveza…” (I have water, juice, beer)

“Beer is fine.”

Javier slides the beer into your hand a moment later, “So, what did Steve tell you?”

“Huh?” You ask, startled by his straightforwardness.

“I mean how much did he tell you about the, uh—the raid?” Javier implores casually, taking a swig from the bottle.

“Oh, nothing really. I asked why he wasn’t there and he told me, but I didn’t try to pry.” You tell him honestly, “The less I know the better, right?”

“And here I am pulling you into that mess for the files,” He jokes, “thank you for that, cariño. Seriously.”

You leave out the extensive conversation you had with Steve about the man standing in front of you, and you hear the words haunting you, nagging at the back of your mind like a bad itch.

You take a long sip of the beer, half dried hair falling over your shoulders as you tip your head back. Javier watches with careful eyes, arms leaning against the island, files pushed further aside.

And suddenly, he seems normal.

In fairness, you’ve never seen him in this environment. His home, his safety, but it’s a juxtaposition to the man you see at work everyday, walking past you with a smirk glued to his face.

Maybe it was only ever really directed at you, but there was always that urge to knock him down a peg. But, not here.

Blame it on your softness, your willingness to want to see the best in people, and how Javier was somehow the end all, be all of gorgeous men in Bogota—he sees the switch too.

The first bad decision was taking the job at the DEA office.

The second? Letting Javier Pena get under your skin so easily.

And between you both, there were enough bad decisions to keep you talking for a week.

What was one more?

He says your name, a dangerous word to leave his mouth at a time like this.

“Javi.”

It’s a warning. An opportunity, his last chance to back away before you both did something stupid. He trashes his empty bottle as he makes his way to you, slipping your own from your grip and onto the nearest flat surface, some mantle or shelf, Javier isn’t sure.

“Do you still hate me?”

It feels like the most ridiculous question to ask, but he needs to hear the answer. Because if you did, he’d back off immediately, walk you back to your apartment, and apologize for ruining your life more than he already had.

But, the other part is praying, hoping that you don’t.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you always know it was me?” He asks softly.

You huff out a short laugh, “What?”

“The car—I mean, I drove it everyday. I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, letting him invade your space, a hand ghosting over your hip, under your shirt carefully, fingertips dancing along your hip.

“You’re not the only guy up there who drives that car, Javi—how was I supposed to know? Are you saying you were doing it purposefully, hoping it bothered me?”

“No,” Javier answers honestly, “but it’s a little fascinating to see you so angry.”

“You should probably elaborate on that unless you feel like seeing it up-close.” You tell him out of pure annoyance, perturbed by the game he was playing.

If he wanted to fuck you, he should just say it.

“You smile all day at those guys, even when they make comments about you in front of your face.” And you’ll hand it to Javier, he’s never been that disrespectful. He appreciates women, and he can be severely pissed off with one, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to trash her in front of anyone else, especially not in front of her. “But, I see it—that little scrunch in between your eyes when they piss you off.”

“It’s my job to be friendly.”

Javier watches the expressive lines between your brow start to form.

Javier shifts you slightly, back pressed to his bare chest as his fingertips settle against your skin, just under the ends of your shirt, and despite the ongoing conversation you can’t help but melt against him.

“I saw it that day when you were standing by my car,” Javier continues, “es linda.” (it's cute)

“Javier,” It's a sigh of discontent, of impatience, and he feels the twitch in your body as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, feeling like you were seeing him as a completely different person, yet still somehow the same, “we really don’t have to drag this out.”

He hums softly, pressing a slow kiss against the side of your neck, the soft thrum of your heartbeat against his lips as he stays there, lingers.

“I’m not mad anymore , I’m not upset,” It feels like rambling, but you needed to clear the air, “Just—fuck, I can’t do slow, Javi.”

Slow meant more time to overthink, to feel, and you didn’t want any of that.

“Looks like I didn’t need to leave after all,” Javier laughs against your skin, “tengo a mi chica aquí.” (I have my girl here)

And fuck if you weren’t eager to throw every rule and inhibitions out the window for him.

His bed is just as pristine and untouched as when you entered his apartment, his fingers digging into your thighs firmly, keeping you in place where you were spread out over his lap.

Javier’s thrown off kilter for a moment as you grip his chin, tasting the wide expanse of tanned skin, biting playfully at the sharp edge of his jawline, right by the spot under his ear that has him fighting to stay focus.

Game recognize game, Javier had really met his match.

“Gatita mala,” He tuts, the warmth of his palms spreading over your back, top bare as his thumbs eventually meet the underside of your breasts, rubbing gently until he sees you keen into the touch, “more?” (bad kitty)

You nod eagerly, his eyes never leaving you, not even as he leans forward, mouth at your breasts until he finally takes the leap and licks, nipple pebbling underneath his tongue, bottom lip dragging against the flesh until he can take you into his mouth fully.

The warmth spreads like a flood, twisting at your insides, begging for something more.

“Javi,” You release on a sigh, fingers drifting through the hair at the back of his head as he hums, a soft noise of acknowledgment, “I need you to fuck me.”

“You sure?” He murmurs, mouthing up the center of your chest, latching onto your neck gently before pulling away, his teeth grazing against your chin as he bites. “Tu quieres esto, bebita? (You want this, baby?)

“I don’t need you to be kind, Javier.” You tell him forthright, staring down at him through your lashes, his hands still rubbing a hot pattern into your skin, whatever remnants of your sleep shorts that were left already pushed high up your legs. “You weren’t trying this hard before.”

“What are you saying then?” He asks, following your lips as you pull back, eying you inquisitively as you find his gaze, pulling him in.

Your eyes darken under the light, the streetlight outside of his window flickering faintly, “We don’t need to act like we’re friends,” You explain, “we’re not.”

There’s a long, lingering moment of silence as your thumb rubs along his bottom lip, soothing the natural pout he always held.

“We want the same thing, right?” You ask softly, feeling his hands settle against your lower back, a soft nudge as he presses you against him, not enough contact to satisfy but it stalls you a moment, watching him calculate a response.

Everything he feels like he needs to say never comes, only a nod of confirmation, a clear switch in his eyes as you drag yourself down to his level, pushing him even further, deeper into the back of his couch.

“Good,” You speak to him, lips grazing against his own as you speak, “because getting those files was a pain in the ass and I deserve a lot more than a thank you.”

You soon realize that this version of Javier is hard to deny something when he works for it, pulling at the short strands of his hair as he descends down the couch, to the floor, leaving wet kisses along the way, feeling your body quiver as he reaches your inner thigh, face pinching together in conflicting frustration as you shake your head.

“Javi, you don’t need to,” You quickly assure him, yanking his head away gently, his cheek resting against your thigh as he stares up at you, big brown eyes fixated on your face, “I’m not—“

“Humor me?” Javier counters, flashing you a tired smile, barely recognizable under this light.

You sigh heavily, mostly to release the tension of your anxiety-ridden nerves, gasping as his tongue meets your clit with no preamble.

It forces out a small laugh, involuntarily, his tongue lapping through your center before pressing a kiss against the inside of your thigh, fingers replacing his mouth for a beat.

“Tan dulce,” Javier comments absently, working you up easily, moving his fingers at an angle that even you couldn’t reach with your own hands, spine curving up as you pressed your palm out flat behind you, the grip in his hair tightening as he welcome the soft sounds you made, rubbing his thumb along your clit in a slow circle, “como el azúcar.” (So sweet, like sugar)

Your response is feeble, a throaty moan that has Javi’s cock straining against his jeans, reaching down to relieve the pressure as he unbuttons them.

“Why deny this?” He asks curiously, crazy enough to try and hold a coherent conversation with you while his face was buried in your cunt. “It’s the best part.”

He spreads you wider then, thick hands coming up to force your thighs over his shoulder, supporting the lower half of your body entirely as he devours, growling against your cunt.

The sound has you fluttering around his tongue and Javier feels it, bookmarking that for later.

“Fuck me,” You gasp out in a rush when you start to feel the edges of your orgasm creeping up on you, “god, Javi—“

But, there’s something unspoken there as he pulls away, the subtle shake of your legs, not wanting to feel selfish and even a little embarrassed for coming like this, so easy and quick under his touch. Be it experience but he knew what you needed even more than yourself, everywhere to touch, squeeze, linger for just the right amount of time.

“Look at me,” He demands, eyes flicking toward his without question as he slowly pushes a finger inside, filling the loss from earlier, thumb working against your clit until he feels it, “fuck, you like that?”

And as much as you wanted to deny it, he already knew the answer.

You nod quickly, body feeling feverish as your leaned your weight into your hands, steadily pressed behind you as your hips rock up involuntarily.

“That’s right, hermosa.” Javi encourages softly, almost like a purr as the crest of your orgasm rises, flushing over you in waves as you gasp, reaching your hand forward to dig your fingers into his forearm, silently begging him to slow down.

Eventually he does, pulling out gingerly but not before slipping the finger past his own lips, covered in the sweetness of you. He doesn’t make a big show of it, but it’s a small gesture that has your heart fluttering in your chest, a pain that aches deep. He does catch your gaze after a moment though, lazily explaining himself.

“What? I don’t lie.” He shrugs, thumb grazing against your bottom lip until you jerk your head away in frustration—coming here for nothing, but somehow twisting yourself up in the sheets on his couch, his solid figure tucked between your legs, and god, he’s not even wearing anything underneath his jeans. He rises up on his knees, denim hiding everything but the short patch of trimmed hair leading to his still, unfortunately clothed cock.

“Get on your knees.” He jerks his chin upwards and you’re moving without question, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as he moves behind you, shuffling around as he digs in a drawer beside his couch, shifting his jeans down until he can kick them the rest of the way, settling his hand over your hip in a comforting gesture, if anything, as he rips the foil packet with his teeth, pumping himself languidly.

He situates himself behind you, one knee pressed into the cushion while his other leg is planted against the floor, finding that once again, his hands couldn’t stop exploring your body, admiring every curve with us fingertips as he nudges you down and into the opposite cushion, palm pressed against the flat of your back as he lines himself up, pushing inside in one fluid motion, an audible groan breaking from his chest as he finally satiates his own desperate need for pleasure.

He enjoys sex this way, prefers it, fulfilling that need to take and consume and fill his partner with pleasure, tell that it was okay to give up control. It's what Javier enjoyed the most, controlling the situation. But, even as he enters you, he feels at a disadvantage.

“Bebita, talk to me.” Javier speaks up from behind you, his gruff, gravely voice cutting through the silence. “Let me hear you.”

You gasp on a sharp thrust of his hips, the wet sound of your slick as it coats him, feeling perfectly stretched by the size of his cock, grip tightening on the cushion in front of you as you feel his hand explore higher, squeezing at the back of your neck to force you deeper into the surface, head turned enough that you catch his expression for a brief moment.

He’s admiring you with a heated, half-lidded gaze as his eyes wander the expanse of your back, settling over the point where you two meet, watching as he sinks into you again and again. But, it’s the grit of his teeth that drives you insane, fucking you with a ferocity that carries so much more than just needing a release.

“Hablas demasiado, Javi.” You groan, feeling the soft pad of his thumb as it rubs at your jaw, earning a low chuckle in response. “You always talk this much with them?” (you talk too much)

He doesn’t need to pry to understand what you’re referring to—and he could act like it hurts his ego, and maybe it does, but he bites back at you just as quickly.

Your name graces his lips in a curse, a prayer, something akin to heavenly as he grips your hips tight, “You’re not them, bebita.”

It feels like a confession, but for your own sake, you ignore it, nodding blindly at his response.

“Fuck,” He growls, dragging a hand along your body until he settle it in the curve of your shoulder, pulling you back against him until you can’t stifle the sounds anymore, moaning out his name for the first time that night, “otra vez, let me hear it.” (again)

You gasp sharply at the sudden change in position, pulled tight to Javier’s chest in a similar position to earlier when you were standing in his kitchen, ultimately more intimate this way, with his mouthing at the shoulder that isn’t currently occupied by his hand, his arm slipping under yours and around the flesh to keep you in place while his mouth sucks at the skin on the opposite side, his name falling from your lips freely as he brings you to a second orgasm with no preamble, a quiet sound leaving you as the high is a little less intense, his fingers rubbing against the small bundle of nerves until you’re begging him to let up.

His breathing is short, hurried as his own orgasm is right there, free arm wrapping around your waist as he hugs you against him, mouthing at whatever parts of you he could reach.

“Gonna cum, bebita,” He warns, tracing a soft line under your breast with his finger until he’s squeezing the mound of it in his hand, “right here, can I?”

If you weren’t so drunk on your own pleasure you would’ve questioned it, but even then you weren’t sure you could deny him. You nod jerkily, feeling him unwind himself from you and guide you around with a steady hand, tapping at your side until he’s got you where he needs, kneeling a little lower, head lolling into his outstretched hand as he supports the weight, rubbing at the soft, tender spot behind your ear as he strokes himself quickly, head thrown back as he comes, moaning brokenly as the feeling overtakes him, spilling carefully onto your chest, your own eyes threaten to shut out of exhaustion but not daring to deny yourself the sight of him, neck outstretched and straining, veins protruding on the side as he swallows hard, gasping as he finally comes back down.

He feels you move to stand but urges you back down, “Stay,” He tells you softly, “I'll be back.”

And he’s not gone more than a few moments before he’s returning with a small towel, wearing a pair of sleep pants he must’ve grabbed from his room first, taking long strides to meet you as he cleans up the mess quietly, his face a little perplexed as he does so, watching as you move to grab your discarding clothing in the process.

“Any chance this convinced you to give me my spot now?” You joke lightly, catching the grin that spreads across Javi’s face, unconstrained.

“You wish, cariño.”

The silence settles as you redress yourself, mindful of Javier’s heavy gaze as he ascends back toward the work in his kitchen, giving you the space you needed.

“Same time mañana?” Javier asks suddenly, gaze landing on you as he scratches at his cheek, examining a paper within the stack of folders. (tomorrow?)

And you’re mentally cursing yourself for the small moment of hesitation you have in answering before Javier’s grin is growing again, releasing a short laugh in amusement at your obvious confusion.

“I meant for work,” He clarifies, “do you need a ride?”

“Oh—yeah,” You shrug indifferently, “I guess.”

The stare that Javier holds is mesmerizing, the type that freezes you in place and holds you hostage.

“Good,” He nods, “—but you know the other offer still stands if you want to.”

“Goodnight, Javi.” You reply with an eye roll, an empty response that holds no hatred.

Javier steps forward in your path, a subtle smirk on his face as he presses a kiss to the side of your head, a gesture that comforts you more than you’re expecting.

“Goodnight, gatita.”

Gatita = kitten

Cariño, Hermosa = both mostly terms of endearment (ie. beautiful, sweetheart)

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #pedro pascal characters #javier pena fic #narcos x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you

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crazyunsexycool · 2 months ago

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A Love as Sweet as Honey

Chapter 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

word count: 3.4K

Warning: mentions of blood, migraine, little bit of fluff I guess, a little bit of Charlotte, Also a new character is added... 👀

A/N: Well look who decided to finish writing chapter 2 of ALASAH. This is just a filler chapter. It's kind of to show how Steve and Honey kind of look out for each other. Also this is kind of self-indulgent since I've been getting a bunch of migraines lately... lol Anyways, the next chapter is where it's at.

Series Masterlist

You stood by as the jet landed. The bright sunlight had you squinting as you finished getting your gear on. To your right is Mrs. B with a few more people that worked in the medbay. She was supposed to be on maternity leave but the mission had been harder than the team had imagined and they would need all hands on deck.

“You call me if you need anything.” She says as she moves to stand by you. She was always looking out for you. At first you thought it was just because you were friends with Steve but it was more than that. Maybe she could sense that you didn’t really have anyone you could count on. And although you weren’t sure how to show her you appreciated it you hoped she knew you did.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will but if you need anything, call me.”

“I will, mom.” You rolled your eyes playfully but Mrs. B smiled proudly.

The rear cargo door opens and some agents are moving stretchers down the ramp. Mrs. B and her team rush over and begin to work. You give them a few minutes before grabbing your bag and heading into the jet to do your part. At the ramp Sam exits and he stops in front of you.

“Steve’s still in there.” He informs you.

“Is something wrong?”

“Some civilians and agents were hurt pretty badly. The mission failed and he’s beating himself up over it. You might want to give him a minute before going in there to get that case Doc.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

Sam gives you a quick nod before heading into the compound. You take a deep breath and look back at the jet. While you were very understanding of needing space and time away from people, you didn’t think that this was good for Steve. So after another minute of thinking through how you would approach him, you decided to just go in and do your job.

The overhead lights are dimmed. The floor is littered with gauze, packaging and ripped uniforms. There’s caked up dirt and blood too. You try to ignore it and step over it as best as you can until you’re closer to the front of the jet. A lone figure sat in the dark. All slumped shoulders and head hanging low. Even as you sat next to him, Steve didn’t move.

“I heard about the mission I-“

“Please don’t say that it wasn’t my fault or that it was out of my control.” He murmurs. He’s completely defeated.

“I was going to say that I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. I think that you did your best.”

“People got hurt.” He replies with a clenched jaw.

“But they didn’t die.”

“But they could have.”

“And you got them to the people that could save their lives. Do you feel like you could have done more?” You tilt your head to look at him better.

“I could have done things differently.”

“I said more.”

Steve sighs as he runs a hand over his face and then shakes his head. “I don’t know that I could have.”

“Then you did your best. Sometimes your best isn’t good enough but you can’t blame yourself for it. You’ll kick ass next time.”

Steve nods but you can tell he doesn’t believe it.

You get up and head toward the chamber where hazardous materials are stored to grab the briefcase you came for. The whole reason for the mission in the first place. There’s some shuffling behind you and then laughter from Steve so you turn to find out what’s so funny.

“What?”

“You look like a rubber duck with that thing on.”

You looked down at your yellow hazmat suit. There was a hood you had covering your hair, gloves, a face mask and disposable shoe covers.

“I’m going to remember you called me a duck.” You smile as Steve huffs another laugh.

“Charlotte calls you a duck all the time.”

“That’s between us girls.” You say before turning back to the job at hand.

Before you can remove the briefcase you have to check for any leaks so you grab a few things out of the bag you had with you. After doing a few preliminary tests you deem it safe to move so you put everything back and grab the briefcase.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” You tell Steve.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Nope. You’re leaving now. You can mope in your apartment but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here.”

“I promise I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

You shake your head. “Just go to your apartment. I’ll call Mrs. B.”

“She doesn’t scare me.”

“Fine, I'll bring in the big guns. I’ll call Charlotte and Henry.”

“You wouldn’t.” Steve gasps.

“Try me.” You raise your brows. “Now grab your shit and let's go. I have samples to run.”

“Fine.” Steve grabs his shield and bag and follows you out of the jet.

You walk in silence together until you get to the elevators.

“I’ll see you later ok?”

“You got something new to work on, I don’t think I’ll see you for at least three days.” Steve smirks.

“I’ll check in with you at some point. You really did your best.”

Steve nods but looks a bit dejected.

“Go get some rest.” You say as you enter the elevator and Steve heads down the hall to the living quarters.

The pain started slowly. At first you thought it was just stiffness in your neck from being in the same position for so long. But then the sounds of the lab and the conversations were too loud. The light was too bright. You were blinking slowly as you tried to focus on something around you. It wasn’t until the nausea hit that you knew you had a few minutes to clean up your station and save all the information you had before you needed to leave. You excused yourself with Bruce, who was looking at you with concern. He was kind enough to escort you to your apartment just to make sure you actually got there.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok?” He asks as you stop in front of your door.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I can get someone from the medbay come up here.”

“No, I'm good. I’m sure with some sleep this migraine will go away.” You say quietly.

“Well you don’t have to come in tomorrow. Rest up and let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks Bruce.” You say before heading inside.

****

Steve is just closing the door to his apartment when Mrs. B turns the corner. She has her medic bag with her and instinctively Steve looks to your door.

“Mags, what's going on?”

“Y/N asked me to come up. Said something about a headache.” She says while stopping in front of your door.

“Oh.”

“I’ll let her know that you’re right here if she needs anything. I’m gonna go check on her.”

“Ok.”

****

After taking a nap and waking up feeling worse you did the only thing you could think of, called Mrs. B. If it weren’t because you were in such a weakened state you would’ve found more medicine for your headache. But you could barely get out of bed.

“Y/N, it’s me. May I come in?” You heard Mrs. B call out softly.

She was right outside your bedroom door so you just groaned in response. The door opens and the light from the living room fills the dark space you had created for yourself. You groan again and she closes the door.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” She whispers as she sits at the edge of your bed.

“Mi-migraine. Vomit. So bad.” You say with slurred speech.

“Do you get a lot of migraines?”

“Mhm.”

“Ok. I’m going to step out and check our records and I’ll be right back to help you. Are you allergic to any medication?”

There was complete silence for a moment and you felt Mrs. B’s cool hands on your forehead and you sighed. It was so hard for you to think straight so it took you a minute to come up with an answer.

“No.”

“Ok, I’ll be right back.” There was some shuffling around and the sound annoyed you but then you felt something cool on your head. “It’s an ice pack, maybe it could soothe you a bit.” She whispered and got up.

It felt like hours had passed as you laid there waiting for Mrs. B to come back. Really it was just a few minutes but the pain you were feeling was so overwhelming that you couldn’t keep track of anything.

“Y/N, I’m going to give you something for the pain ok.”

“Mhm.” Is the only acknowledgement you could give.

She moved quickly and quietly next to you in order to give you something to ease this pain. After she was done, Mrs. B sat beside you and pushed your hair away from your face. A motherly gesture that at a different time would have startled you but you welcomed it at the moment. She stayed for a few more minutes before grabbing her things.

“Y/N?” She calls your name softly.

“Mm?”

“Steve is out in the hallway. He wanted to know if it would be ok if he came in to check on you.”

This was so new to you. No one ever really worried about your well-being. Now there were two people that were looking after you. It was nice but also hard for you to accept the help and attention. You only called Mrs. B because you knew that as a medical professional she wouldn’t deny helping you and out of everyone in the medbay you only felt comfortable with her coming into your apartment. Steve was something else entirely. Yes you lived across from him and you even had him over for a movie night but you hadn’t really unpacked then. If he came in now it would be like he could really see all of you. But at the moment you also needed help or the reassurance that someone would come in to see if you were still alive.

“Ok.” You barely manage to say.

“Alright I’ll let him know but you can still have Friday call me if you need me.”

“Thanks.” You say while turning away from her and closing your eyes again.

****

“Y/N? Hey, can you hear me?” The words were rushed and panicked. “C’mon open your eyes. Y/N open your eyes.”

You groaned in response. The pain you felt was horrible. You were nauseous too. A nice cool feeling comes over your forehead and you lean into it.

“Y/N, can you hear me?”

It was Steve. A panicked, worried Steve was talking to you but you felt like you were underwater so you only hummed.

“I’m going to take you to the medbay.” He whispers as you’re lifted up in his strong arms. You lean into his chest and fall back into unconsciousness.

You were groggy and confused when you finally woke up. Your body ached and you still felt that dull pounding in your head from the overpowering migraine. The more alert you became the more you realized you weren’t in your room or your apartment.

“Y/N?” Asked a sleepy voice from beside you.

“Steve?” You rasp out.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like my head got hit with a sledgehammer.” You groan. “Where am I?”

“I had to bring you to the medbay, I came in to check in on you and found you passed out on your bathroom floor.”

You just stared at Steve for a moment. “I-I don’t remember getting out of bed.”

“It’s ok. You were really out of it. The doctors said your migraine was really bad.”

“I haven’t had one this bad in a long time.”

Steve cups your cheek, running his thumb back and forth. You lean into the touch and close your eyes, completely missing the worry in Steve’s eyes. Physical contact wasn’t something either of you did normally but it was nice to feel his warmth. Truth be told you craved being closer to Steve all the time.

“You know Charlotte and Henry came by to see you.” He says after a moment making you open your eyes. “They left their teddy bears because it would make you feel better. Henry even picked some flowers for you.”

You look down to find pink and orange bears holding paws laying on your lap. A small bouquet of wildflowers is in a cup full of water. It makes you smile. “They’re sweet.”

“They were very worried about you, so we’re a few other people. But let me call the nurse and then I’ll let them know you’re ok.”

A nurse walks in a few minutes later. She checks your vitals, asks a few questions and leaves again. The small interaction drains you again. Steve takes a seat again as you watch him through hooded eyes.

“You know you don’t have to stay right?” You whisper.

“I know. I want to.” He replies softly with a smile. “Get some rest and I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

It had been a few days since you had woken up in the medbay. Since then Steve and Mrs. B had both been checking up on you regularly. Mrs. B making sure you were taking enough breaks and drinking plenty of water. It still felt odd to you, to have people that genuinely cared for you. There was no motive behind them coming to see you.

You’d been around them for almost two years already and you still felt like an outsider. Their concern was genuine but you didn’t know how to react to it. You wanted to do something nice for Mrs. B and then something for Steve.

“Hey.” Bruce startled you out of your thoughts. “I’m about to head down, walk with me?”

“Sure.” You grab your tablet and head out with Bruce.

He was going on a mission, a rare thing these days, and wanted to go over a few projects. This is what you were hired to do. So all the way from your office down to the jet he rattled off what he needed done and you made notes and asked questions. Bruce said a quick goodbye before walking towards the jet.

“Hey,” you walk up to Steve who was looking at his own tablet. “Ready for your mission?”

“I hope so.”

“You’ll be fine. Remember you can only do your best. Don’t be reckless, I need you here.”

Steve smiles, his cheeks flushing a little.

At the other end of the hangar Bucky is giving his family kisses. Next to him is a blonde woman. When she sees Steve she starts walking his way, a smile on her lips.

“Steve, how have you been?”

“Good. How have you been Sharon?” Steve nods at her.

“Good. Glad to finally have a more permanent residence.” Sharon says while crossing her arms over her chest. “This mission is going to be a hard one.”

“You’re going on this mission?”

“Yeah, didn’t Fury tell you? I’m starting here today. I’m the official liaison between the Avengers and the CIA.”

You silently listen and look between them, unsure if something is happening. It feels like it is and you don’t like it at all.

“This is doctor Y/N Y/L/N. She works with Bruce, Y/N this is Sharon Carter.” Steve introduces you.

“So you’re the one who stole my apartment across from this one.” Sharon lightly smacks Steve’s chest. “If you didn’t want to be my neighbor again you could’ve just said that, Steve.” She chuckles.

You’re annoyed by her instantly and you can’t hide the expression that says as much. It’s like she was trying too hard. Maybe you just didn’t want to share Steve’s attention. This friendship between Steve and Sharon didn’t feel like his friendship with Mrs. B. There was some underlying tension between the two people in front of you.

“Yeah well, last time I thought you were a nurse. A CIA agent sounds more dangerous to have as a neighbor. Besides, Y/N here keeps me on my toes.”

“Oh well,” Sharon looks between the two of you, trying to decipher what kind of relationship you have. “If you want a fun neighbor, let me know.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, getting the attention of both of them. While Steve seemed to have been caught off guard by Sharon’s comment overall, she seemed taken aback at your small reaction.

“Have a safe mission.” You mutter before turning and heading back inside.

“Duckie!” Lottie yelled across the hangar. “Wait for me.” She ran and stopped beside Steve to give him a hug and say a quick goodbye.

“Don’t I get a goodbye?”

Lottie who had been halfway to you turned, scowled in Sharon’s direction and shook her head. “No.”

“Charlotte.” Mrs. B called out. “That’s not nice. Don’t be rude to Sharon.”

“Bye.” Lottie says, the one word dripping with annoyance, and turns to run to you. “Can I be your ‘ssistant today?” She asks sweetly. You tried not to laugh at the quick shift in her mood.

“Sure, I could use all the help I can get.”

“Ok. I’ll be the best ‘ssistant.” Lottie takes your hand and pulls you towards the entrance of the building.

“Did I do something to piss her off?”

Mrs. B joins Steve and Sharon and shakes her head.

“At least not yet.” Steve quips, causing both women to look at him. “Her visions.” He reminds them both.

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sharon waves off the concern. “We should get going though, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you later Mags. Bye Peanut.”

“Be safe.” Mrs. B calls out as Sharon and Steve head to the yet.

You were about to close the door of your apartment behind you when the sound of tired footsteps echoed in the hallway. Pulling the door open just a bit you see Steve making his way towards his own apartment. He’s so tired he doesn’t even notice you stepping out of your apartment.

“Hey.” You greet him.

He turns and gives you a tired smile.

“How did it go?”

“The mission was a success. I did my best.”

“That’s all that matters.” You smile. “I won’t keep you, you must be exhausted.”

“I think I could sleep for days.” Steve blinks owlishly at you.

“Well fortunately your neighbor is boring and won’t keep you up.”

Steve grimaced at the memory of Sharon’s comment a few days prior. He didn’t think you were boring at all. In all honesty he was glad you were living across the hall from him. Steve found some sort of comfort in having you close.

“I don’t think you’re boring. I’m glad you’re my neighbor.”

“Maybe I’ll make you regret it.” You quip making Steve huff a laugh. “Anyways, go get some rest.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Steve turns and starts opening the door before you call him.

“Would it be ok if I check in on you?”

He gives you a tired smile but nods. “See, you’re the best neighbor.”

You watch him disappear into his apartment before closing the door behind you. Now you get to repay Steve for having been so caring when you got sick. No one had ever cared about you as much as he had in that moment. Even when he was busy with reports and training he always made sure to check in on you.

So you make sure he does in fact sleep as much as he needs. Although you don’t cook you’ve learned what he likes and make sure his fridge is stocked. When Sharon inevitably shows up knocking on his door you’re more than happy to send her away without her getting to flirt with Steve. The thought alone makes you irrationally angry because you know that Steve can be with whoever he wants to. When Sharon turns back around to see if you’re still standing in the hallway you send her the fakest smile you can muster.

It was nice, having someone take care of you and you being able to return the favor. You felt like something was shifting in your friendship with Steve. And even though you weren’t sure what it was you would welcome it with open arms. Because being around Steve made you feel safe and cared for and you’d dare to say even loved.

Ch. 3

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#a love as sweet as honey series #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers series #Steve Rogers fic #Dad!Steve Rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #Captain America #Captain America series #my little love universe

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aprocessionofthoughts · 8 months ago

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Trust

part 9 of DLM ao3

After the stew was done and Danny got out of the shower they all sat down to eat. They ate in silence for a while neither one of the bats wanting to push Danny into feeling uncomfortable, but Jason had a question he wanted to ask. He probably should have asked earlier, but he’ll blame it on the shock for not thinking of it sooner.

“Hey, Danny?”

“Yeah?” Danny said, setting his spoon down.

“How did you know it was me?”

Danny tilted his head and squinted, “What do you mean?”

Jason gestured with his spoon, off to the side Dick was watching them, his gaze analytical. “I mean, how did you know the guy in a red helmet was me?”

“Oh.” Danny settled and picked up his spoon again, through a mouthful of soup he answered, “It wuz th’ same ectoplasmic signature.”

Jason stared. He glanced at Dick, but he also looked confused.

Across from them Danny paused and glanced between them warily. He stared at Dick for a moment before turning to Jason. “Like I mentioned before, we’ve both been… death touched. And when someone’s been death touched a bit of ectoplasm gets incorporated into their system, the amount of ectoplasm varies depending on the situation. But when ectoplasm binds with a person it develops its own unique chemical signature. You can think of it like DNA. Ghosts and some machines can sense the differences, so when I came across Red Hood, I could sense that it was you.”

“Huh.” Jason said unable to come up with anything else in the face of discovering that he gave of what probably amounted to his own unique radioactive signal.

“And you said some machines can track this?” Dick asked. Jason was thankful that his brother was here because he wasn’t sure if he was up for asking all the necessary questions.

Danny looked hesitant again and looked at jason.

Jason nodded at him and Danny looked a little reassured.

“Yeah. There are a few. That’s how the GIW are tracking me. I don’t think they were around Jason enough to latch onto his ecto-signature so you shouldn’t need to be worried about them tracking you down. Gotham has plenty of low level ghosts so their scanners should be pretty muddled. But that’s also why I should go. My signature is stronger than the shades of Gotham and They know how to track it. I don’t want to give you any more trouble.” Daanny wasn't looking at either of them, instead he was completely focused on stirring his stew.

Jason and Dick glanced at each other.

“Hey, Danny, look at me.” Jason said.

It took a bit, but eventually Danny looked up.”

Jason smiled slightly, “I told you I’d protect you, didn’t I?”

Danny looked away, biting his lip. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”

Jason reached across the table and placed his hand over one of Danny’s. “I’m Red Hood, kid, I can defend myself. And there are plenty of bats in Gotham who would love to help.”

“The GIW are different. They don’t care who they have to hurt to get what they want. They’ll just keep bringing in more agents until they get me.”

“Well then we’ll bring in the Justice League.” Jason said, Bruce would be okay with it if Jason told him it was to protect a kid.

“I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire. I won’t let you get hurt.” Danny said, shaking his head.

Jason glanced over at his brother. Dick was always better with the emotional talk.

“We’re vigilantes Danny. We’ve been trained in defending ourselves and others.” Dick said.

“And they wouldn’t be able to take us down without causing people to go after them for attacking vigilantes.” Jason added.

Danny shook his head harder, he was staring at the table, his eyes slightly glossy. “They won’t care, they'll lie and say you were defending dangerous creatures, that you were being manipulated by evil ghosts.” Danny laughed bitterly. “Or they’ll claim you’re also contaminated and capture or exterminate you. They’ll do anything to get what they want.”

There was more to this, Jason knew. Something bad had happened to the kid, apart from the obvious scar, but now wasn’t the time to push for information. Right now, they needed to convince Danny to stay with them, to let them protect him.

Jason got up, walked around the table and crouched by Danny’s chair. “Kid, look at me.” Jason said gently. He waited till Danny did before continuing. “I know you’re scared,” Danny opened his mouth and Jason continued before he could argue, “and I know you’re worried about us getting hurt. But this is what we do. We fight to protect people. And there are a lot of powerful people on our side. And I’m sorry we haven’t been there for you before, I’m sorry we didn’t get to you in time in the past, but we’re here now. Together we can take down the GIW. Let us help you.”

Danny’s eyes started watering, and Jason reached up to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Then Jason was falling back as the kid launched himself at him. Jason held Danny as he started to sob. “I’ve got you, kid. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” Danny whispered as he cried. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

#jason todd #dick gayson #Jason and dick are good brothers #Danny fenton #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc au #danny phantom #batman

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jarofstyles · 10 months ago

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Splendore- Verboten 8

They're back. Best friend's Dadrry returns and this time in another country. 👀💋

Check out our Patreon

Series masterlist

Warnings- emotions, slight angst, fluff, I promise there's smut next time

---

Harry’s idea to let them bond together without the worry of someone they know catching them hadn’t been what Y/N expected.

She had imagined a trip into the city, maybe to a few over so they could get used to being out together, to being a couple they wanted to be. Maybe a BnB if he was feeling fancy.

It turns out, he was feeling luxurious.

Italy had been the last of her guesses, not even truly on the brain. The older man had her pack her bags and told her they were going to one of his houses. She had been given the hints of a ‘warm climate’ and to pack those ‘pretty bathing suits and sundresses’ that he loved oh, so much. Y/N did exactly as asked, packing up her suitcase with the cool packing cubes she had bought from being influenced online - she was weak for easier travel- and prepared for at least a bit of fun in the sun. Her suspicions rose when he had mentioned a passport, but when they sat in the first class seats on a flight to Italy, she was in shock.

Harry had laughed at her shock, how she bounced on her heels when she had figured it out when they arrived at the lounge. She had thanked him with kisses to the cheek, her hood falling off her face as she held his far too pretty for a grown man’s face. Y/N hadn’t been to Italy, let alone know that he had a house there. Imagine her reaction when he broke out into Italian, speaking to the gate agent as soon as they landed about something that she couldn't understand. Her attraction to him had already been sky high, but the last few hours had elevated it specifically.

2 weeks. They were spending 2 weeks in Italy, Y/N finally quitting the job she hated with plans to look for another one when she got back, and a weight lifted off her shoulders. Her excuse to Lia had been she was going to go see where her extended family lived, whilst Harry said he had business. It wasn’t a lie- Y/N did have family here, but she wasn’t exactly going to see them.

Y/N’s arms wrapped around his one as they walked through one of the street markets. Harry had been the one to choose her dress, deciding on a white base colored one with tiny baby blue florals covering it. It hugged her waist and flared out, reaching right above her knee and was off the shoulder with tiny puff sleeves- a beautiful one he hadn’t seen before. They’d lazed about in bed sleeping off a bit of the travel from the day prior, but Y/N had been a bit antsy to see things. Harry knew the area well, had spent some summers here with family, and he was a massive fan of the country in general.

Sunglasses hung on the bridge of his nose as he stopped at one of the stalls, looking at the fresh fruit lined up. He hadn’t gone to the market yet, and it was probably a good idea to get some fruit while they were here. “Why don’t you pick out some that looks good to you, hm?” He turned to murmur against her temple.

Y/N wasn’t used to being allowed to be so openly affectionate with Harry. The times they’d gone out back home, they’d still been cautious with how close and sweet they were in fear of their relations being reported back to someone who didn’t need to know. Being in Italy offered a type of freedom that she didn’t expect to feel so good. Hanging on his arm felt so perfect, like it fit right into her own. Letting her arm drop from his, she chose a few things. A few packets of berries that looked particularly ripe and juicy, some peaches that were far softer than any she had felt, and a few red and green mottled apples were placed into the wicker basket she had bought from a few vendors up. She knew Harry was a fan of cherries, so she chose a small bag and picked up a pomegranate for herself before stopping. Looking at him for approval, he simply nodded and took the basket from her to show the vendor.

“Mi scusi, quanto costa tutto questo?” His Italian made her blink. His voice had always been a weakness of hers, but hearing him talk in a different language and sound so… dreamy? She felt a bit wobbly in the knees, eyes locked on his face as he spoke. The exchange was completely missed on the other end, her long lashes blinking as she watched Harry pull his worn leather wallet out from his front pocket and hand over a few bills. She watched his eyes slide over to her, catching her staring point blank as his lips quipped up in a tiny smirk.

“Grazie Signore.”

His hand found Y/N’s, threading their fingers together as they continued to walk with her basket in his hand now. He wouldn’t let her carry her own stuff a lot of the time and as much as it drove her crazy, it also showed that he was a real gentleman. They just didn’t make them like this anymore. That’s why she’s gone with an original model, she supposed.

“Got something on my face?” His smug little smile hadn’t dwindled, their hands swinging slightly in between them as she could feel his happiness. It squeezed her heart in her chest. As many times as she’s seen the man content, she had never seen him like this. This level of happiness, or seemingly free. She could relate, but seeing it in the man who was usually quite reserved and had been known to her as an authority in a way, an intimidation, it was a breath of fresh air. His giddiness was contagious.

“Mhm. A little smug look on that face.” She laughed, rolling her eyes in jest as they continued to walk down the cobblestones. “You’re just very pretty. That’s all.” She feigned a bit more indifference than she actually felt.

“Oh? And it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you look at me like I offered you a lifetime supply of peach tea when I speak Italian?” He rose a brow, calling her out directly on her bullshit. “I do appreciate the compliment though. I prefer ruggedly handsome, a sexpot, maybe. But pretty will do.”

“A sexpot?” Y/N snorted, nose crinkling in distaste as she looked at him over her own sunglasses. “I forgot you’re an old man sometimes. But fine. Maybe I do like hearing you speak in a foreign language. You surprise me, is all.” She shrugged one shoulder, continuing the swinging of their arms. It was odd, how well they connected despite all their seemingly different life points. They melded together like precious metals over a flame, combining in a way that made her positive that traces of him would remain in her forever.

“Good. You’ve got a lot to learn about me.” He hummed, squeezing their joined hands. The man seemed a bit shy with her sometimes, like now that they were out of their normal element, he was a tad more vulnerable. It was something Y/N found to be refreshing. She wasn’t the only one a little nervous. Or perhaps he had always felt like this, but hadn’t felt ok showing it.

“Hm. Let’s look in here.” Harry interrupted her train of thought, pulling her into a stall with dresses.

Harry had a thing for them, as they’d previously discussed. He liked seeing her in flowy, soft dresses that showed off her shoulders and her legs. It had taken her slightly off guard considering she had thought he would prefer to see her in her bathing suits- which, he did obviously enjoy, but he had shown more excitement to see the dresses she had shown and requested them specifically.

“Are you going to get something?” Y/N asked, looking at the colorful pieces hung up on a pole and the rolling racks. They were beautiful, but definitely pricey. She couldn’t fault them for it, as they looked hand made and artists deserved to be paid for their work appropriately. She had to be a bit careful with her spending, though, considering she had just quit her old job.

“Mhm. We both are.” Harry’s words made her turn to him, lifting the glasses off her face.

“Oh? I am?” She crossed her arms, looking up at him with her brows raised, only to be met with a laughing man who scooped her into his arms, pulling her into his chest. She had no time to question before he was kissing the top of her head, pulling back to look at her face.

“Yes. M’gonna be buying you what I’d like to see you in.” He said easily. “And probably some things for myself.” There were a nice variety of shirts and shorts, so he could choose for himself. It was written all over her face, her reflex to argue, but instead of allowing it, he tipped her chin up and covered her lips with his own, cutting off any sort of rebellion. Kissing her for the first time, properly, in a public place. It had caught her off guard, her body relaxing slightly before he pulled back from her. “Just let me. Yeah? It’ll make me happy.” He smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Per favore, bellezza mia. Lascia che ti vizi.” The croon of a whispered Italian sentence, despite her not really knowing what he said besides please, had her core heating up.

God damn, he was good.

“Fine. Fine… If it’ll make you happy.” She whispered back, leaning up to peck his lips again. It took him by surprise, but one he happily leaned into. Harry’s wide grin was reward enough.

After that, it was a bit of a blur. Y/N said yes and no to a few dresses, trying her best to be conservative with the money he was spending because it still made her a little uneasy- but seeing the amount of clothing that he had folded up for himself, it reminded her that he really did have the funds. His home here alone should show her that- but in the back of her mind, she knew she was worried about what people would say.

Gold digger. With him for the money.

It wasn’t that she necessarily cared about anyone else's opinion of her, but she didn’t like the idea of people saying she didn’t feel for him as strongly as he did for her. She would be with Harry if he didn’t have money at all at this point. Of course, she couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a good thing to have. That it didn’t arouse her to know her man could take care of her, that he was successful and driven and able to provide and create things. It did, more than she cared to admit. It just wasn’t why she was with him.

Harry had swept her off her feet, what started out as a fuck in the poolhouse turning into a full blown relationship with feelings and anxious glances and sweet giggles. It was different than past relationships but also, not. The circumstances certainly were unique, the risk especially so, but the full bellied butterflies she got whenever she thought about him, the late night calls, the rest of it all resembled a pure romance.

She acted the part of a spoiled girl well in most other contexts, but actually allowing people to provide things for her had always made her feel a bit uncomfortable. It was never an even exchange. Harry’s expression had been so earnest when he had told her he wanted to do it for her, she couldn’t tell him no.

The shop owner had looked overjoyed, throwing suggestions to them and acting as a personal shopper once she had deciphered what size Y/N would be, a flush on her face as she realized it meant real money for her. That was another reason she let the guilt melt away. Providing income for a local artisan was worth it. Falling into it, she smiled and showed her preferences towards cuts, choosing one of the lilac ones from the rack, a soft linen mustard colored dress with floral embroidery across the bust, a deep red maxi dress with a mix of lace creating pleats, a white wrap skirt, and a few other things that Harry had decided she was getting. Y/N wasn’t about to deny him. It was his money.

By the end of it, they had two bags of clothing, separated to his and hers by the helpful and gracious artisan who kissed both of their cheeks repeatedly and apparently invited them both to dinner while they were here. Y/N didn't know what he had said in response, but she assumed by the large smile that it was an acceptance.

He had a charm about him. She had noticed it, obviously, but as they continued through the market and shopped it became apparent that he just had a magnetic quality to him that had her looking on the interactions fondly. This was an unfiltered view of the man that made her feel a fluttering in her chest, the luck she had stumbled upon by getting to spend her time with him realized fully as she continued their walk. He was a gentleman, stopping and letting her browse one of the pottery stalls so she could choose a mug- finally letting her pay for something herself when she had pouted at him- and decided to get him one as well. Hers had oranges on it, Harry’s matching with lemons.

Italy was far warmer than she had realized though, and her inner thighs were starting to sweat. She needed a break, which she told him in a soft request to go back to the house to relax by the pool. Her body was in desperate need of a shower and far less clothing. This had been the most walking she had done in months.

He had insisted on gelato before they made the trek back up to the villa, Y/N choosing a Tiramisu flavor and Harry getting pistacchio. Leisurely, they walked hand in hand while the bags hung off Harry's elbow and her basket back on her own while they licked at the treat. It was melting fast, her tongue working over the sides to try and constrain it from dripping all over her fingers. Being sticky on top of sweaty and tired was not on the top of her to-do list.

“Messy girl.” His eyes had been watching intently as they paused at the top of the hill to give her a second to breathe. Her tongue flicked over her fingertips as the melty cream dribbled down over the cone, making his stomach burn a little bit. The woman managed to make the most mundane things either utterly adorable or completely erotic depending on the mood. In this instance, he was reminded of her sitting on her knees, lapping up every drip of his cum when he had finished in her mouth. Greedy for it, he had soaked up every moment of her desperation. It was a cherished memory of his he would be happy to relive.

“Perv.” She smirked, shaking her head as she looked him in the eye, taking a long lick. If he was going to be flirty, she was going to return it right back. “Don’t start when we’re out here. If you’re going to be dirty, wait till we’re back in private.” Her hip bumped his before she started off on her own, leaving him to follow right on behind while watching her skirt sway.

—---

“Darling?” A soft voice woke her from her light sleep, cool fingertips brushing over her cheek. The warm ocean breeze and sound of the water and birds had lulled her into a state of relaxation while the sun had begun to set. Eyes peeled open to see Harry smiling down at her, shirt hanging off of his shoulders while he was bare underneath. He was bent down, arm resting on the back of the lounger while the other stroked her face. “There she is. Fell asleep?” He looked down at the book splayed out on her stomach and the half finished spritz on the side table, evidence of the accidental dozing.

“Yeah, m’sorry.” Knuckles reached up to rub at her eyes, peering up at him with a soft grin. “Didn’t mean to. The breeze felt really good.” Finishing with her no longer sleepy eyes, her fingers went to his wrist, urging his hand to cup her cheek the way she liked. “Did you have a good shower?”

Harry had left her out to relax while he had answered a few emails and took a shower, needing to wash the day off of him. Y/N had done so earlier when he had made them food, so it had been his turn. She had told him she was going to relax by the pool with her drink and book and she wasn’t too tired, but it was obvious the day had caught up with her a little bit.

“I did, yeah.” He stroked the apple of her cheek with his thumb, seeing her face relax into the hold he kept. “Missed you a little, though. Much more fun with you complaining about how it isn't hot enough.”

“Well, you take lukewarm showers at best. I like to feel a bit of burn.” She huffed, turning her face to bite the heel of his palm lightly to show her displeasure. “Rude. But, I missed you too. Come sit with me.”

Y/N’s body shuffled over, allowing him to lay on his side next to her. The size left little room between them, but Y/N remedied that as she moved her leg to hook over his waist, sighing as she snuggled up to him. Harry couldn’t control the flip flop his stomach did at her apparent comfort with him, feeling easy enough to do something like that with him. No hesitation now, lips pressed against the base of his throat before she settled in.

“Comfortable?” His voice murmured, hand falling to her bare back to stroke the warm expanse.

“Mhm.” Her replied was hummed, hand resting on his chest as she sagged into his hold. “I’m really happy.”

The words had sounded like it took her a moment to admit. His breath caught, looking at the top of her head as she kept her face tucked against his throat. Hiding a little bit, but he could understand why. Admitting things, feelings, it was intimidating. “Yeah?” He chuckled, letting his blunt nails run over her spine, memorizing the feeling of its ridges under the skin. “Good. That’s all I want for you. I wanted to take you away… let you feel relaxed for once.”

His words vibrated against her cheek, tickling her slightly. She hummed back, twirling the chain of his necklace around her finger. A force of habit now. “I am. It was a really good idea. I…” There was a pause, hesitation coating her tongue as she decided to go for it anyways. “I was really scared I messed this up completely. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or make you feel like… Like you weren’t enough, or I wasn’t happy. I know we talked about it before, and I don’t want to ruin a good day with those thoughts, but I really like you and I loved how it felt when we were out earlier. Holding your hand, when you kissed me…” She swallowed the lump that had formed, his soothing fingers continuing their path. He knew what she needed. “It felt right. I know back at home, some people are probably going to have a lot to say, a lot of mean things probably, saying I’m in this for money or something and that you’ll get over me or whatever but I just want you to know that I think we could work.”

Mustering up the courage to pull back and look at his face, she looked into his own eyes. They looked light, but focused. Intent as he met her gaze, encouraging her to continue to speak. She had no idea how he felt, how he felt a little choked up himself at her words and her resolve over the both of them. “I think we could. I’m sorry I seemed so wishy-washy before with us. With putting labels and dancing round things. I was scared to ask for anything more because I enjoyed us together and I didn’t want to be a silly little girl and assume you’d want something with me.” There was a pregnant pause, Y/N’s eyes falling from his for a moment. “I know theres a lot against us. I’m half your age, you’re Lia’s dad, it’s going to cause problems but I-I really think it’s worth exploring. I don’t want you to get hurt by the repercussions and like I said, I know it’ll cause some issues but-”

Y/N’s words were cut off with his mouth. A deep kiss, fingers angling her up towards him and keeping her chin between his fingers as he locked their lips together, letting her feel him. Heat flushed in her body, leaning into it immediately. He had stolen her breath, a tiny whimper leaving her throat as he attempted to pull back. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him back to her with a quiet mewl of ‘No’ before sealing their soft mouths back again, feeling his harsh exhale through his nose when she dragged her nails over his exposed chest and pulled back to peck his lips a few times. He eagerly responded, chasing her lips a few more times before giving a breathless chuckle, forehead resting against her own.

His heart thumped in his chest as he took a moment, opening his mouth to speak to her but failing. How could he possibly be able to tell her how much he actually appreciated her? He had to at least try.

“I don’t think words will be enough to accurately describe to you how much I feel for you already. I know. I know of the risks, the things people would say, the things that could possibly happen as a result. Trust me when I say that a relationship with you is all that has been clouding my mind for the last few weeks. I’ve thought through every scenario, as good and as bad as they could get, but none of them are as bad as the thought of losing out on being with you.”

His voice was slightly hoarse, the kiss and the mere passion he felt stealing some of the strength he usually had, but he powered on. “Y/N… I know I was cruel to you the other night. I was pathetically jealous, angry that it wasn’t me. That I couldn’t make it easier on you to be with me. I can’t control what people outside of myself do, and I should have conducted myself better but you…. You make me feel again. It’s unnerving and I felt raw and naked and hurt because I was letting you in and it felt like perhaps that wouldn’t be enough. That I’d be a phase. But it was cruel of me to underestimate you and think poorly of your intentions because of my own insecurities. As good as I try to be… I am still a man.” He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “A silly, jealous, needy man who wanted to rip the hands off of the guy in that photo for touching your shoulder. I wanted to storm down to the bar and toss you over my shoulder, take you home where you belong. When I realized I didn’t have a claim over you, it hurt. It made me feel bitter and irritated and then you showed up to my house, wearing a dress that you put on for another man… I went mad. But it wasn’t fair of me. I was feeling those same insecurities, and I didn’t let you speak. And for that, I’m sorry.” He returned to her chin, tilting it back up and pressing another lingering kiss to her lips before continuing.

“I want to be with you. I’ll take it all. I won’t let anyone be cruel to you, I will cherish you and this relationship, I’ll make you happy. I know we’ll have some growing pains and that it won’t necessarily be easy because of everyone else, but being with you? Being around you, feeling happy? It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Y/N hated herself for it, but she felt the burn behind her eyes. To hear someone talk so passionately, to put themselves in a position at home that could cause him personal issues because he liked her so much, he felt so intensely for her? It had shook her to the core. It felt like no one else had ever cared about her this much. She could feel it, feel his affection in the way he kissed her. “Me too.” She peeped. “It’s- It’s so easy for me to be myself around you. I know it was weird at first because of how we met but it fell into such a rhythm so quickly a-and I like myself around you, H. I do. I think that’s what we’re supposed to feel in relationships. Right?” She sniffled, cursing under her breath as a tear escaped. “Sorry. I just feel a lot right now and I’m really happy.” A watery laugh made him smile, thumbing the salty tear away from her cheek.

“Don’t apologize to me for feeling.” It was a gentle scold. As much as tears from her would break his heart, he wanted her reactions unfiltered. There was a greed he couldn’t control when it came to information about Y/N. “I want to hear and see everything you feel. You underestimate just how curious I’ve been about how this pretty little brain works.” His damp finger tapped the tip of her nose, making her giggle again. “It is how you’re supposed to feel, I think. At least, it’s how I feel with you, too. It’s the best, isn’t it?” His arms pulled her back to his chest, smiling to himself as he felt her rub her face into his neck and play with his hair, warm breaths brushing his collarbone as she nodded in response.

“It is.” Her words were soft against him, pressing a series of gentle kisses to the side of his throat and working her way up to his jaw. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. Every day, it’s something new.” Her teeth grazed the hinge of his jaw, biting down delicately before pulling back to give him a grin. “I never want to stop learning with you.”

“I’ll make sure you never have to, sweetheart.” Lips brushed hers, stealing her breath. “We don’t have to tell everyone we’re together when we’re home, but… we can use this trip, see how good it feels. Work on it when we get back.” meaning they’d have to tell Lia. Something neither of them would look forward to, but it was going to be pushed back on this trip. “Just want to take this time to get to know you, to see bits of you that you’ve hidden away. Cruel little thing.” He clicked his tongue, letting his fingers brush her sides to make her squeal. She was a tiny bit ticklish there.

“I’ll let you know anything you want- but first lesson? Do not tickle me unless you want me to accidentally knee you in the balls.” She huffed. “I happen to quite like them, so don’t do that.”

“Noted, darling. Noted.”

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elaratyrell · 1 year ago

Text

Misery {Annie Wilkes! Aemond Targaryen x Author! Reader}

*All images found on Pinterest*

Warnings: Dark! Aemond, stalking, language, mentions of murder Smut- oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), female orgasm

*Divider from Firefly Graphics*

Synopsis: You find yourself near death after being the victim of a car accident in a snow storm while working on the latest instalment in your bestselling Misery series. The man who found you, your self declared number one fan, seems innocent enough, but his dark past, and even darker intentions, soon become clear

With a sigh of slight relief, you placed the final page on top of the pile beside you, tying a rubber band around it and placing it in a blue leather case.

Another book finished to hopefully join the others on the bestsellers list.

You had written twelve other books, to be exact, and had now finished your first completed draft for the thirteenth.

The cursed number.

The unlucky number.

The number of misfortune.

But for you it was a blessing.

For years you had dedicated your life to the running series of books centred around a character called Misery. You'd published your first book at eighteen, becoming the new face of the romance genre. And as you had grown up, your books had matured as well, becoming darker, bordering on the thriller genre as well as still centering on the romantic aspect. It was a bold move, but seemed to pay off, as it had made you even more popular than before.

Yet, after dedicating your life to one character for an entire decade now, you knew you had to move on, take another path in a new series you were going to write. You knew some of your fans would be disappointed that this would be the last entry in the Misery series, but it had to be done.

It felt like a relief to you, that you could finally move on with your life. And you felt as though it were almost a weight being lifted off your shoulders as finished your usual celebration of a single cigarette and champagne. You rose to your feet to take the manuscript to your car with the rest of your belongings, departing from a small log cabin called Winterfell Lodge you always rented out when working on your latest novel. It was always calming to get some time away from the chaos of the city.

You pulled your coat around you tighter, the snow flurry thickening around you as you loaded your bags into the trunk of your car. Usually, you wouldn't drive in weather like this, especially as it seemed as though a snow storm was fast approaching, but you needed to get back to the city as fast as possible.

Quickly shooting your agent a message to let you know you had finished the initial draft and were on your way to get back to the city, you started the car and drove away from Winterfell Lodge.

You squinted slightly as the snowfall grew thicker still, trying to see the curve in the road as the wipers speed couldn't keep up with the snow that was now covering the road. You slowed your speed, maintaining control of your car, humming along to the song playing on the radio.

Maybe you should have waited for tomorrow.

It was already late in the afternoon, and the clouds darkened the sky.

You turned on your car's headlights, a small sign reading 'Curved road, next thirteen miles'.

You hit the curve no problem, turning the wheel with perfect control, keeping a steady speed as you continued turning the wheel, but suddenly one of the wheels skidded, followed by another as the car span erratically out of control.

And all you remembered was the car spinning of the road, followed by it slamming into a tree, doing a one hundred and eighty degree flip, landing on it's hood.

And then as you fell into the darkness, you heard the harsh sound of the radio static and the howling winds, and felt the blood trickling down the side of your face.

Followed by nothing. Only darkness.

When you awoke, you felt numb.

You skin was paler, and clammy with a feverish sweat that sent a slight tremble through you. You couldn't lift any of your limbs. They felt weighted down. You didn't even want to try and lift your head.

"You're awake."

The voice was male. It sounded calm, well spoken. Soothing, almost.

Approaching footsteps to your bedside soon brought the owner of the voice into your vision.

He looked around your age, maybe two or three years younger, around twenty five or six, perhaps. He had long silver hair tied half up, a strong jaw and a tall, well defined figure. One of his eyes was a vivid blue, like a sapphire, the other a cloudy white, a long scar running from his brow down to his cheek. Resting on the bridge of his nose was a pair of black rimmed glasses. He was dressed in a dark blue sweater, the white collar of his shirt peaking up above its neckline, and a pair of black trousers.

Your saviour was very handsome, indeed.

"W-where... where a-am-"

"Shush," He interrupted you, placing the back of his cool hand against your forehead, frowning slightly at the heat radiating on your skin from the fever. "We're just between Storm's End and Winterfell. You've been here two days. I was concerned that you were not going to pull through. I'm thankful to say that I think you will recover. You'll be okay. Thank the gods you'll be okay." He shot you a slightly relieved smile. "Oh, how foolish of me. My name is Aemond Targaryen, and I'm your-"

"Number one fan?" You murmured, your eyes fluttering closed from a split second before opening again to see him shooting you a rather bashful smile, his cheeks dusted with pink.

"That- that's right," He murmured. "I-I am also a doctor, fortunately enough." He added, gesturing to where you were connected to a drip before outstretching his hand and opening his palm to reveal two pills. "You need to take these for the pain," He said softly, lifting your head slightly to bring the pills to your lips and swallow them, his fingertips lingering slightly against your lips.

Aemond propped up the pillows slightly, resting your head back down. Giving you a better view of your room, you noted you appeared to be in a rather old cottage or farmhouse. Your room was rather charming; wood panelled walls, a large fireplace opposite the bed. From the window, you saw a view of the mountains.

"Shouldn't I be in hospital?" You mumbled.

"The blizzard was too strong. I didn't want to risk trying to get you there. I couldn't even call, the phone lines are down and I don't own a mobile, I'm afraid. I doubt you could even get signal out here with the weather like this."

"Thank you for saving me," You murmured, you eyes aching with fatigue.

"You are more than welcome. Now, you should get some rest. You nearly lost your life." He replied, stepping back. "I'll be back to check on your when your meds run out," Was the last thing he said before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

Your fever past after a few days in Aemond's care, but you were still incredibly weak. But Aemond promised you that things would get better.

"It's not going to hurt forever, I promise you."

"Will I be able to walk?" You asked.

"Of course. And your arm will be fine, too. Your shoulder was rather badly dislocated, but I managed to pop it back in there. But I must say, I am rather proud of what I managed to do with your legs, especially considering what I had around the house. In fact I don't think there's a doctor in the whole of Westeros that could do a better job."

And with a flourish of blankets, he made your legs visible to you for the first time.

From the knees down, you believed you resembled a mummy. Steel rods that seemed to be remains of aluminium crutches were used as splints with taping circled around them. From the knees up, your thighs were swollen and horribly bruised.

Upon seeing your slightly horrified expression, Aemond hastily added. "It is not nearly as bad as it looks considering the severity of your injuries. You have a compound fracture of the tibia in both legs, and the fibula in the left leg is fractured too. I could hear the bones moving, so it's best for your legs to remain immobile. And as soon as the roads open, I'll take you to a hospital. In the meantime, you've got a lot of recovering to do, and I consider it an honour that you'll do it in my home." He gave you a kind smile, once again leaving you to get some more rest until he had to administer your next round of painkillers.

And soon enough Aemond's visits to your room became more frequent and for longer periods of time. He didn't just stay to gave you your meds, but also to reassure you that the sweeling to your cheek would go down, and how you were still beautiful, and how much he adored your books.

"It was quite a miracle that you found me," You said one evening after Aemond had fed you your dinner. He let out a small, slightly nervous chuckle in response, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Actually, it wasn't a miracle at all. I... as I... in a way... I was following you."

"Fo-following me?" You stammered out.

"Well it isn't exactly a secret that you were staying at Winterfell Lodge, you know, considering that I am your number one fan, but some nights I found myself driving there, sitting outside and just looking at the light in your cabin, knowing you were most likely creating another Misery masterpiece. I'd try to imagine what the world's greatest writer was creating." He replied, his voice light and airy, as though it was the most simple explanation.

"Can you say that last part again? I didn't quite hear..." You murmured, trying to brush off the fact he practically stalked you. Aemond just shot you a small smile in response.

"The world's greatest writer." He repeated before continuing. "Anyway, the other afternoon, when I was on my way home, there you were leaving the lodge. I must say I was curious as to why an intelligent woman such as yourself would go for a drive with a storm such as that approaching."

"I... didn't know there was going to be a storm like that..."

"Well, luckily I did," He replied. "And, it was lucky for me too. Because you're alive, and now you can write more incredible books. I've read absolutely everything you've written. I enjoyed your three standalone novels at the start of your career immensely, but the Misery series... I must say that they are my absolute favourite. I-I know them all by heart, all twelve of them. I love them, they helped me through my darkest times... through any obstacle I've faced in my life, I've managed to find solace with Misery.

You couldn't helped but feel touched by the way he spoke so fondly of your work, how he constantly sang your praises whenever he got the chance. The man was socially awkward it seemed, and perhaps rather shy at times, but he was still surprisingly charming.

"You're too kind..."

"And you're too brilliant," He replied. "You must be to create such a wonderful character like Misery." As he spoke, he traced a finger down your cheek. The swelling was gone, and the bruise was fading. He cleared his throat, hastily pulling his hand away and rising to your feet. "I'll um... just wash these dishes up." He said, seeming rather embarrassed all of a sudden. "I'm sure the road will be open soon, which means the phone lines will be back up in no time. But until they are, I'll kept trying so you can phone your agent."

He stopped when he reached the doorway, turning away from you, his hand hovering over the door knob.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Oh goodness no. I-I was just wondering if I could ask you a favour."

"I'm sure it's the least I could do after you've shown me such kindness." You replied, mustering a small smile that made his expression brighten.

"It's just that I noticed in your case there was a new manuscript..." He trailed off, hesitating slightly.

"You want to read it?"

"If it's not too much trouble. I do not mean to intrude."

"I usually only let three people read my new work this early," You replied, making his smile drop slightly. "And that's my editor, my agent... and the person who was kind enough to save me from dying in a car wreck."

"I... thank you," Aemond smiled. "You have no clue as to the gift you've given me and the gratitude I feel to you."

You shot him a smile, but that soon changed into a grimace as you winced from the pain.

Aemond glanced at his watch, hastily placing your empty plate on the bedside table before reaching into his pocket for the painkillers.

"It's like clockwork, the way your pain returns," He murmured, pressing a glass of water to your lips to help you swallow the pills. "The pain will subside soon. It will be okay," He sighed, placing his hand over yours as your expression twisted in discomfort.

"What's the title of your newly finished book?" He asked, trying to take your mind away from the pain.

"I'm not sure yet," You murmured. "I usually come up with the title after the final draft is finished. Perhaps after you read it, you'll have an idea or two."

Aemond's expression brightened again. "I will do my best not to let you down."

Days past, and soon enough Aemond could move you from the bed to a wheelchair. Your arm was healing nicely, as were your legs, despite there still being some time until the latter were properly healed. Aemond never failed to update your over his progress of the manuscript.

"I read chapter one, it was one of your best introductions to a Misery novel I have ever read..."

"Page twenty, I've reached. It's incredible how you can engage with the reader so quickly in the novel..."

"Page thirty, I had to force myself to put it down..."

It wasn't until one day when he came in with your lunch that something seemed a little... off, about Aemond.

"I know I'm only forty pages into the book..." He began in his usual tone. "But... oh I cannot criticise someone like you-"

"It's fine," You replied. "I can take it. Believe me, if I can deal with the critics, I'm sure I can handle whatever my number one fan has to say."

Aemond softly exhaled, keeping his gaze fixed on where he was cutting up your lunch. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

"It is brilliantly written," Aemond admitted. "Although everything you write is brilliant. But... the swearing..."

You raised an eyebrow.

"The... swearing...?"

"Yes, the swearing. There, I said it!"

"It bothers you?"

"It is inappropriate. It has no nobility," He protested, sawing through the food on your plate.

"It is appropriate for the setting and background of the character speaking-"

Aemond stilled, his hands stopping from cutting your food for you. His head lifted to meet your gaze, his expression uncharacteristically cold.

"No. It isn't," He replied firmly, resuming to cutting your food, his gaze still focused on you. "What do you think people say when they go into the grocery shop in town. Give me a carton of those effing eggs and five slices of that bitchly roast chicken?"

You couldn't help but smile at his refrain from using the profanities, but it faltered as the cutting becoming more and more erratic.

"...And in the bank, do I tell Mr Lannister, here's one big bastard of a cheque, give me some of your darn money?"

You let out a nervous chuckle at his rants, but soon enough your ears were greeted by the grating sound of metal against china. He looked down, slamming the plate down on bedside table.

"There! See? Now see what you have made me do! These were my mother's plates! What she left me when she passed! And now, it's all scratched!"

His chest heaved as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. When they reopened, his good eye was full of shame and embarrassment.

"Oh... I'm so sorry... sometimes I can get so worked up I... oh, can you ever forgive me? Here..." He pressed your pills to your lips before picking up the plate, shooting you a rather overly sweet smile.

"I hope you can forgive me. Oh, Y/N... how I adore you. I mean... your mind. Your creativity... that is all I meant."

Several days passed, and Aemond's previous disposition had returned. He didn't lecture you over the choice of language used in the book, but still seemed disapproving nonetheless. He still cooked and fed you your meals, brushed your teeth, gave you your pills, praised you every waking moment he was with you. The phones were still apparently out, but he had assured you it was only a matter of time before they were up and running again. He had even managed to convince you to autograph his limited edition copy of your first Misery novel, promising to cherish it for the rest of his days.

He still gave you regular updates on reading your manuscript. At page 185, he expressed his sadness at being over halfway through. At page 300, he branded it better than perfect, that it was divine. He said it was more beautiful than any tapestry adorning the Red Keep. He had then introduced you to his pet snake, Vhagar, and his cat called... Misery.

And you had found out more about him.

How he had graduated top of his class from medical school, and how his peers and his family were constantly consumed with jealousy from his success. How they would attempt to belittle and mock him for his eye, and how in his lowest moment, his fiancée, Alys, had left him, but you had saved him with releasing your newest Misery novel some weeks later.

He had told you about the neglect from his father, his older brother's alcoholism and his mother's untimely death. He stiffened when he mentioned his eye, but you quickly changed the conversation and didn't bring it up again, not wanting to upset him by bringing up possible past trauma. And you had listened to him, consoled him over the misfortunes of his past, and he had expressed his gratitude in return.

And then he had left you to rest while he returned to finish the manuscript, which he had entitled Misery's Child.

The slam of your bedroom door awoke you from your doze, your eyes fluttering open to reveal Aemond staring down at you, his face ashen and jaw clenched.

He must have finished the book, it seemed.

"You... she cannot be dead," He murmured. "Misery cannot be dead!" He then exclaimed, voice rising. "How... how could you do this to me?"

"Women in that age... it was tragically common for them to die in childbirth, Aemond. I'm sure you know that. But you know, she will still be alive in... in spirit..."

"I do not want her spirit! I WANT HER! AND YOU MURDERED HER!" He yelled.

"I... I didn't kill her..."

"THEN WHO DID?"

"Nobody she... she passed away and..."

"She passed awa- she passed away?! No, Y/N, you did it. You killed her. You murdered my Misery."

He picked up the chair by your beside where he usually sat with you with ease despite it's weight, rising it in the air as if to strike it down on you before turning and throwing it against the wall. It shattered immediately upon impact, breaking into pieces on the floor.

"I... I thought you were good," He murmured, tone suddenly soft. "But you're not good. You're just a dirty, untrustworthy woman. I don't... I don't think I should be near you for a while..."

He walked to the door, and stopped to turn back to you.

"And don't even think about anybody coming for you. Not the doctors, your agent, your editor... I won't call them. I haven't called them and I never will. Nobody knows you're even here. And you better hope nothing ever happens to me... because if it does... you'll die."

After the click in the lock of your door, followed by the slamming of the front door and the revving of Aemond's car as it pulls away from the house, you let out the breath you didn't know you had been holding.

You were slightly shaken from Aemond's outburst, but tried to focus on what needed to be done, shifting to the other side of your bed and reaching out with your arm. It had come out of it's sling several days ago, and was now bandaged in a cast. You managed to grasp ahold of the armrest and pull it towards the best, shifting your body closer to the edge of the bed. Your legs screamed in agony as you manoeuvred yourself onto the wheelchair, but you persisted nonetheless, managing to sit down in the chair and wheel yourself towards the door. Reaching into your hair, you pulled out a hairpin Aemond had leant you, pushing it into the keyhole and soon enough hearing a click. Turning the knob, you pulled open the door and wheeled yourself out of the room, looking down the flight of stairs that blocked your way.

Letting out a deep sigh, you gripped the banister with one hand as you slowly steered yourself to the edge of the staircase.

"What have I got to lose?" You murmured, before wheeling the chair down the stairs.

The chair turned on its side as it crashed down the last step, but you managed to hoist yourself up again. You immediately tried grabbing a phone, but it turned out to be fake. You then discovered the windows bolted shut and both of the front and back doors having a second lock at the top, which you couldn't reach due to not being strong enough to stand just yet.

You wheeled yourself back into the living room, looking at the photographs placed on the drawers against the wall. There was Aemond as a young boy standing with his siblings and mother, his eye unharmed. Another showed him graduating medical school, a proud smile on his face. The third was him with his mother. And the fourth... was you.

He truly wasn't lying when he said he was your biggest fan.

Between the two photographs was a crystal dragon ornament, and beneath that was an emerald scrap book. You lifted the ornament carefully and grabbed the book, opened it.

The beginning seemed fairly normal. More photographs of his childhood and teen years. The was a photograph of him at what seemed to be a formal event with a women you only assumed was Alys. She was dressed in dark green, matching Aemond's tie, and you were sure she was very pretty, but you couldn't see her face due to the black ink scribbled over it, almost cutting through the photo. The next page was work related. More photographs and newspaper clippings of his medical success.

But turning the page was a different story entirely.

The first page contained a page of the newspaper, what seemed to be it's headline emblazoned in large capital letters.

'Doctor Aemond Targaryen arrested for the murder of nephew Lucerys Velaryon'

'Doctor Aemond Targaryen was arrested this morning, accused of the murder of his nephew, Lucerys Velaryon. Targaryen, 20, pleaded not guilty to the death of Velaryon, 16, under the accusation he had simply acted in self defence after his nephew attacked him with a knife and caused the disfigurement of his left eye'

And it only got worse as you read the following pages.

'Targaryen trial postponed until December 10.'

Accompanying the headlines were photographs of him standing in front of the courthouse with his lawyer, Larys Strong, a stony expression on his face.

'Targaryen declared innocent by jury, claims he was a victim of a malicious attack.'

'Shamed doctor Aemond Targaryen resigns from King's Landing hospice.'

You slammed the book shut, a sick feeling brewing in your stomach as you hastily placed the book in it's position with the ornament on top.

Wheeling yourself to the stairs, you gripped the banister and you pulled yourself up the stairs. Your arms ached, the muscle burning and sweat beading on your forehead as you persisted, refusing to let go and crash back down to the bottom again.

In time, you reached the top of the stairs, moving the wheelchair as quickly as you could, taking the pin out and moving towards the bed, when a slam of a car door stopped you in your tracks.

Aemond was back.

You knew he would enquire about the now unlocked door, but you could just pass it off by saying you urgently needed to use the bathroom. You also knew that you didn't have enough time to haul yourself back into bed, and so you did what you could, and threw yourself out of the chair and onto the floor, pushing the wheelchair away from you slightly as the front door opened, the rustling of paper bags being put on the table before the creaking of the stairs. There was a slight falter before he twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

He knew it was unlocked.

"What happened?" He asked, voice laced with concern as he hurried over to you, lifting you into his arms and shushing your cry of pain as he placed you down in bed atop the covers. His glasses had been taken off, the brilliant blue of his good eye burning into you.

"I needed the bathroom, but I couldn't get back into bed I... I lost my balance and fell on the floor..." You lied, hoping that you managed to convince him that your story was true.

"You needed to use the bathroom?" He asked, receiving a nod from you in response.

"And you managed to get yourself on and off the toilet alright?"

Another nod.

He slowly nodded in response, and you let out a small sigh of relief, visibly relaxing at him seemingly believing your story.

"And... you managed to get down the stairs and into the living room without hurting yourself after picking your bedroom door lock?" He added, his tone still soft.

A little too soft.

"Aemond... I never..."

"And you managed to somehow drag yourself back upstairs into your room?"

"I... I don't..."

"The dragon ornament on top of my photograph album," He replied. "It was pointing the wrong way."

You opened your mouth to speak, but found yourself at a loss for words, you mouth dry and your blood running cold.

"It's okay," He murmured, running his thumb over your lower lip. "I shouldn't have scared you. I know I did. I frightened you, hm? Well for that I apologise. I will refrain from repeating that behaviour in the future." He added, leaning forward slightly. "You are so incredibly important to me, Y/N. I'm sure you know that. You saw the photograph downstairs..."

You tried to speak again but he quickly shushed you, the finger resting on your lip tracing down your jaw, your neck, across your collarbone. His pupil had dilated, his breath quickening slightly as his hand moved down to your chest, covered by one of his shirts he had given you, framing your body in a pale blue.

"You do not need to speak Y/N," He whispered, leaning closer still, one hand placed the other side of you, caging you against him. "You will only waste your energy..."

As he pressed his lips to yours, you knew you couldn't fight back. You were weaker with him even without your injuries, and with his erratic behaviour, and what you had discovered downstairs...

And so you let him deepen the kiss. You let him part your lips with his tongue. You let his hand wander down from fondling your breast to your waist, pulling the shorts you had on down to your knees.

You let him ever so gently part your legs, pressing a line of kisses along your upper thigh, and then pay the same attention to the other, his lips tracing your flesh that had been swollen with bruises the week before.

Did you even know how long you had been here?

Staring up at the same ceiling, being enclosed in those same four walls day after day had merged the days together.

And if you asked Aemond, would he tell you the truth?

You couldn't trust him, but you needed to stay alive. And if you had any hope of getting out of here alive, you needed to stay on his good side.

And so there you were, legs spread as Aemond lowered himself between them, his moans vibrating against you at your taste, his tongue circling your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through you that was both pain and pleasure as your legs twitched slightly, a hand tangling in his silver locks.

You resented the way your legs squeezed around his head as he thrust two fingers into you, murmuring against you about how wet with want you were for him. Your body was betraying you, but you couldn't stop the way he was making you feel such pleasure. The mere curling of his fingers against your sweet spot, or the flick of his tongue against your swollen clit caused a string of breathy moans to leave you, and soon you found yourself coming undone. He drew his fingers out of you, replacing them with his tongue as he eagerly lapped at your release.

He sat back, lips glinting with your release. He reached forward, fingers parting your lips so you could taste yourself on him. He let out a satisfactory groan as you sucked on his fingers, allowing them to linger on your lips as he pulled away.

Pressing his lips to yours, he pulled your underwear and shorts back up to rest on your hips.

"I would love to go further with you, but I'll have to wait until you're back to your full strength. It may take some time... but I think I can manage with having your addictive taste on my tongue until I can truly claim you as mine. You'd like that, hm?"

"I..." You let out a deep breath. This man was unhinged. He'd break your ankles with a sledgehammer before letting you leave. You knew that your best chance to survive this, was to play along. Allow Aemond to believe that you were beginning to reciprocate his affections for long enough so he could let down his walls and nurse you back to health so you could escape.

"I would like that..." You murmured, looking away to feign embarrassment.

"It is nothing to be ashamed of, my darling Y/N." Aemond replied, looking at you with such fondness, you wouldn't have believed he was a murderer. He paused for a moment. "This may not be the best time, but I have a surprise for you. In the other guest room."

"Oh... okay..."

"If you want to wait another day, as disappointing as that would be-"

"No, I can see it now," You hastily replied as to not flair that nasty temper up again. He smiled warmly in response, stepping towards you as you reached for the wheelchair, but he instead lifted you into your arms bridal style, walking you away from the chair and towards the bedroom door. Instinctively, you wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, your head resting against his shoulder.

He pushed open the door with his foot, giving you another overly sweet smile as he proudly declared "It's your new studio. I set it up last night. I just needed to get the typewriter and paper, which are downstairs."

"But... w-why..."

"You need a place to work, after all," He interrupted you, placing you down on the desk chair. "All writers need a place to work."

"B-but... what would I write?" You asked.

Aemond smirked at you, walking over to where a trashcan sat in the far corner of the room. The clang as it landed on the floor echoed around the room as he dropped it at your feet, your manuscript discarded in it.

"You want me... to burn my book?" You looked up at him in disbelief.

"I know this may be difficult to you," Aemond nodded, reaching into his back pocket and bringing out a box of matches.

"I... I can't..."

"Yes. You can," Aemond's voice was firm. "You can do this. Do it. Now."

Your hands began to tremble as he pressed the matchbox into them, pouring lighter fluid into the trashcan.

"I know this is the only copy," He continued. "You always only write one copy at first. When you were eighteen, you wrote your first book and you didn't make a single copy. Because you didn't think anybody would take it seriously. But they did. And you kept that tradition because it's a superstition to you, and you don't want to make a copy in fear of it being rejected. I'm trying to help you can't you see that?" His voice was steadily rising as his agitation grew, making the tremble in your hands worsen.

"I just want to help you. Why won't you let me help-"

As he spoke, you hastily lit one of the matches and threw it in the trashcan, the manuscript exploding into flame.

And as Aemond lovingly kissed your forehead, murmuring how proud he was of you for being so strong, all you could do was stare at the flames consuming your work, your own masterpiece.

"Now you can go back to doing what you're great at," Aemond murmured, a hand resting on your shoulder. "You can write a new novel, your greatest achievement ever... Misery's return."

He knelt down by you, a finger hooking beneath your chin, turning your head to meet his gaze. "I know you didn't mean it when you killed her. And now you can make it right. You can even write it in my honour, as a thanks for saving your life and nursing you back to health." He leaned forward so his breath was tickling your ear, his hand now resting on your thigh. "Although there are also other ways you can repay that debt to me."

"And you... you expect me to write something up just like that?" You asked.

"I expect nothing less than a masterpiece from you," He replied reassuringly, pressing another kiss to you, this time on the cheek. "I have the upmost faith in you my darling... I know you won't let me down... and if you do... we'll just have to start again. And again. And again... you won't try to escape, will you?"

"O-of course not. I... wouldn't dream of it."

Aemond hummed in approval. "I know you won't," He whispered, kissing you on the lips before standing up. "No one will come for you. If they do... I won't let them take you. If they try to take you from you, or if you do try to leave..." He said, opening a storage closet and reached inside, brandishing a sledgehammer. "There are other ways of keeping you here... with me... forever..."

Masterlist

#Aemond Targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #Aemond Targaryen imagine #House of the dragon #House of the dragon x reader #House of the dragon imagine #Spooktober

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