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charliemwrites · 9 months ago

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Nikto's Commandments part 8! (and the first half of the Jealousy Duet).

I'll be honest, I got stuck with this one! For some reason I just couldn't get a good flow going and had to try writing this a few different times. I think it shows in the beginning, but I get the rhythm back towards the end.

Also, apologies if there are more errors than usual. I kind of powered through it and am too afraid I'm going to hate it if I try to read it over.

Anyway, please enjoy as always <3

Content: Jealousy, Acts of Devotion, Declarations of Love, Kissing

It’s your first mission since Nikto failed you.

(You may have forgiven him. He’s even accepted that you have, merciful as you are. But that doesn’t change the truth of what happened – that he failed you. That he left your side, and then almost didn’t return. You’ve forbade him from hanging himself with “almost,” but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel the noose around his throat.)

You’re long since healed and recovered under Nikto’s devoted watch. Nurturing may not come naturally to him, but he’d bend himself into any shape for your use. So, he made himself into your caregiver. Weeks of helping you sit up, walk, bathe… until you were back in the gym, right by his side, gritting your teeth through physical therapy.

A scar is all that’s left now, silvery and tender. The only sign that Nikto’s world nearly bled away on dirty concrete. A reminder of his failure, his disgrace. How could he possibly deserve a place at your side, when he couldn’t even protect you? When he thought, for even a moment, that vengeance mattered more than your life?

Still, he returns to your side. Because you told him to, all that time ago. Because he has so much to make up for after everything. And because you haven’t given him leave to be anywhere else.

(He prays that you don’t the only way he knows how. Through meals from his own hand while you grin, nipping at his fingers. Through tea shared from one cup. With fragrant products in your wet hair while you sigh. You haven’t told him he could be anywhere else, beckoning him into a bed bigger than the one on base, still tucking in close like one of you might fall off the edge.)

It’s not that he thinks you incapable now. He would never blaspheme that you are anything other than utterly competent. It’s just that every blink superimposes pools of blood over his vision, a strobe of you near death.

In his most selfish, private thoughts, he imagines taking you away from it all for good. Tucking you away warm and safe in the cathedral of your off-base apartment, where a god belongs, in their own house. He soothes himself on visions of devoting himself to you fully and wishes he were a prophet. But for all you’ve given him, visions of the future are not one of them.

You were eager to return to duty, nearly cornered O’Conor once you got final clearance from the doctors. Nearly shook him down for a new assignment – for the both of you. Even if he had reservations about sending you to duty so soon, an opportunity to keep Nikto and his temper away a little longer was too tempting. (The bruises Nikto left on his throat were long gone, but the memory clearly was not.)

And so here you both are, in the gym of an SAS base, sparring with Task Force 141.

“Oi, lass! Care for a match?”

“Bring it, MacTavish!”

Nikto stands back to observe as you and the sergeant square off.

The 141 has been cooperative, despite previous tensions with KorTac. You, Nikto, and Konig have managed to build a decent working rapport – though most of that work has been yours. Their captain seems to like your friendly personality and straightforward professionalism; their lieutenant has been cordial. But the two sergeants (especially the Scottish one) have taken a liking to you.

“Fuck!”

Nikto jerks as you get taken down on your bad side – no, it’s not your bad side anymore. You’ve fully recovered; he must remember that. Interrupting a sparring match would be unwelcome and unnecessary. Not just overprotective on his part, but disrespectful to you as well, as if he doesn’t think you can hold your own. Still, he balls his hands into fists as you struggle against the sergeant.

At least you’re laughing, breathless and curse laden as it is.

“She is okay, ja?” Konig asks.

Nikto grunts the affirmative, eyes sharp as he watches you knee MacTavish’s side. Good, he thinks proudly as you twist to get on top. You’ve been working tirelessly to improve your groundwork techniques, learning all the different ways you can use your smaller stature against bigger and stronger opponents.

“He is… friendly,” Konig continues.

Another grunt of agreement. Most people are with you. It’s a natural reaction in the face of divinity; to reach out to a smiling god. It worked on Nikto, anyone else would be helpless. It’s just the natural order of things like green grass, blue skies, or gravity.

There’s a pause that starts to prickle the back of Nikto’s mind. Disinterested as he may be in socializing, he understands how it works. A program that runs in his mind – body language, tone, inflection, facial expression. A complex algorithm that computes to emotion, conversation, feeling. It’s just not an equation that applies to him, or that he can apply to himself anymore.

And right now, Konig is trying to imply something. Nikto cuts his eyes to the side, meets Konig’s.

“Too friendly, don’t you think?” he adds.

Nikto snorts and turns back to the match – where you are just tapping out. MacTavish is unwinding his arm from your windpipe. You’re sat between his legs, back to his chest. A tough position to get out from in a fight. As you’re scooting away, the sergeant pats your hip, leans to say, “good match” in your ear. You shoot him a grin over your shoulder and then push to your feet, sauntering back to your own team.

“Whose turn is it?” you ask, wiping sweat from your brow.

You don’t see MacTavish’s eyes darting up and down your body, zeroing in on the sliver of skin revealed by your lifted shirt. But Nikto does.

“Mine,” Konig answers, stepping forward.

You smile at him, bump fists with him. “Kick his ass for me, yeah?”

“Ja.”

He shoots Nikto one last, pointed look before stepping onto the mat. But Nikto has no interest in watching his match. Not when you’re right in front of him, a sheepish look on your face.

“I can’t believe I lost like that,” you groan. “Guess I need more practice.”

“We will practice,” he promises.

You beam and knock the back of your hand gently against his.

Like an insidious weed, Konig’s observation takes root and sprouts. Sergeant MacTavish’s friendliness.

It’s almost like Nikto is hallucinating again – or perhaps that he has just stopped. A veil pulled away from his eyes. A creature camouflaged in the brush, his eyes skipping over the landscape until an irregularity in the pattern was pointed out to him. And now he cannot stop seeing it.

MacTavish saying hello to you first every morning, asking how you slept with a twinkle in his eye. He offers to accompany you to training sessions, often chooses you first for cross-team drills. In downtime, he’ll invite you to socialize (with the rest of the 141, sure) and always save you a seat or a spot. Usually right next to him.

And it is not that he doesn’t acknowledge Nikto or Konig. He is amicable with both, works well with either of them when paired up. But there is always a tilt to his mouth when he speaks to you, a lilt to his voice. A subtle incline to his shoulders that makes every interaction seem just that slightest bit intimate.

A week into the assignment, and he is touching you freely. First a hand tapping elbow or shoulder. Then an arm around the back of your neck. Platonic, commiserating. Within a day, that arm drops to your shoulders and he’s leaning the side of his head against yours, something a bit warmer than a hug.

One morning, he scoops you up in a hug, your toes nearly off the ground. You seem surprised, reciprocate with a pat to the back before you’re set down and offered a chair.

And the sparring… the sparring gets worse. Not just an exchange of blows and a chance to improve skills with a new partner anymore. It’s become a game of teasing you, joking with you. Tagging you with hits to coax you into going after him. Wrestling with you on the ground and dragging it out while he grunts and huffs against you.

And Nikto… Nikto burns.

This is not hell, he knows; but maybe this is some form of purgatory.

He has no place, no right to suffer. Knows that trying to claim you as his own would be like trying to cage the sun. It wouldn’t just be selfish; it would be heresy. You’ve already given him a miracle; you told him you love him. That is far beyond anything he could deserve, anything he could hope or dream or long for. To take after all that, to demand more of the time, attention, energy you pour into him like holy water…

And yet.

And yet he wants to claw his skin off when MacTavish winks at you. Wants to set the world on fire when that accent purrs “bonnie” or “hen” at you. An awful, deafening static scream fills the fractures of his mind when you smile at the sergeant, when you wish him a good morning or evening.

“How are you with a sniper, hen?” MacTavish asks one day.

You hum, glance over at Nikto. He’s been training you with his own rifle for months now – though it’s obviously been on pause since your injury. “Well, I’ve been working on it, but I definitely need some improvement.”

MacTavish crosses his arms, biceps bulging against the sleeves of his t-shirt. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a few pointers, if you want to come down to the range with me some time. Promise I’m a good teacher.”

You blink, hesitate. Then lightly, “Yeah, maybe!”

Nikto can’t hang himself on an “almost,” but he’s gutted on a “maybe.”

That night you come out of the bathroom frowning. There’s a furrow between your brows that you only get when you’re both frustrated and worried; if it stays, you’ll have a headache within the hour.

“Nikto?”

He glances up from the knives he’s polishing. You stop, eyes darting all over him, towel frozen in your hand.

“Hm?” he prompts.

You don’t answer. Instead, drop the towel carelessly on the floor and stride across the room. Towards him. He only just manages to shove his equipment out of the way by the time you reach him. And you don’t stop, climbing onto the hard desk chair he’s in, straddling his lap. Your fingers curl so tight in his chest straps that he can hear them creak.

He’s trapped as much by your gaze as your weight. Something swimming in the pools of your irises that he hasn’t seen in them before. Doesn’t know how to name or how to tame.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

He jerks back in surprise, but you’ve got a solid grip and there’s nowhere to go.

“Did I… do something?” you ask. “Or… or not do something?”

He stares. “What?” he asks, mouth gone suddenly dry.

Your eyes are still darting between his, like you’ll find answers playing peekaboo between them.

“You haven’t been right the past few days. Maybe even a week,” you explain. “I’ve been giving you space to tell me, but you won’t. And I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you, but please just talk to me.”

Now his brows furrow. “I haven’t been…?”

You sit back a bit, assured that you have his attention – as if that isn’t guaranteed.

“You’re not eating the same. Didn’t even take the green beans I put aside for you,” you say. “You’re not sharing my tea or letting me wrap your hands. You keep leaving for a smoke in the middle of the night. Hell, you’re wearing your mask in our room.”

It dawns on him like apocalypse. That he has been worrying you, affecting you.

“And you’re not… you’re not talking to me.” Your white-knuckled grip eases a bit as you run out of steam, sadness tinging your expression. “I know we don’t talk the normal way but… I haven’t been able to read you. You won’t look me in the eye or press our legs together. You’re even pulling away in your sleep.”

His heart is trying to claw out of his ribcage, wants to crawl into the palm you press to his chest.

“So… if I’m doing something or not doing something… you can tell me. I promise I won’t be upset. I just miss you.”

He crumbles.

Weeks under torture, but he breaks at four words.

You gasp as he rips the gear off his face. Try to help, but he just pushes your hands away. Knows he’s aggravated the old wounds, but a balm is at hand, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“моя любовь,” he whispers fervently. “моя надежда. моя богиня.”

You curl around him instantly, arms around his shoulders, fingers fluffing through the fuzz of hair at the back of his skull. Gentle and kind and everything that sinners and saints would fall on their swords for. And yet all you ask of him is to speak, to confess.

“I fear,” he rasps into your skin.

“Fear what?” you ask.

He is your protector, your disciple. Yours to command, to damn, to sacrifice if you so wished – and he would gladly spill his corroded innards at your feet, careful not to bloody your shoes. And he fears that you won’t ask him to.

“You are not mine, but I fear losing you,” he admits. You suck in a breath, arms tightening around him. “If not to MacTavish, then to the world. I will be left here without you again.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as the scars sear all over again, crushes his crooked nose against your collarbone.

“I am yours,” he whispers, lungs burning, “and I cannot be that if you are gone.”

You shift, pressing closer, tighter. Lay your cheek on his head and squeeze him so tightly he wonders if you’re not inviting him inside your ribcage.

“I thought you understood,” you whisper, and even that cracks with emotion. “I’m sorry, I thought I made it clear. I thought you knew…”

You urge him back. He wants to resist. Wants to stay right there in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the soap you two share, basking in your warmth. But you are bidding him to do something, and he is a weak man to your command.

Your eyes are shiny, but there’s a smile on your face when you look at him.

“You’re mine,” you assure him, “you will always be mine. I will never turn you away.”

His eyes flutter with relief. Always. He has no business questioning the truth of that. You’ve said it; it is so.

“I’m yours too, Nikto.”

His eyes snap open again, but you hold him still, hold him right there.

“Our love isn’t a cross for you to bear,” you murmur. “I belong to you the same way – the exact same way – that you are mine.”

“I don’t—”

“You remember what I told you in that car all those months ago?”

Don’t deserve it? That’s not your choice. Don’t understand? You don’t have to. I just do. It wasn’t a choice I made.

Your word is genesis. It is revelation. It is creed and commandment, redemption and atonement.

You’ve said it; it is so.

“Here.”

You snatch a pad of black ink from one of the desk drawers, grab at one of his useless, hovering hands.

“What are you—”

You smear his bare fingertips across the damp pad. Then press them to your forearm. He jerks his hand back, but it’s too late. His smudged fingerprints stain your skin in inky little pools. When he looks up at you, you’re grinning. Wide and beautiful and so damn proud of yourself.

“C’mon,” you coo. “Do it again.”

He hesitates. But his eyes are drawn back to his fingerprints on your skin. His mind echoes with your declaration.

You are his. You are his.

To deny you this, to deny your belonging, would be beyond blasphemy. Beyond sin.

You have said it; it is so. You. Are. His.

You beam as he takes the inkpad and gets his fingers wet again. Begins leaving marks all over you. Along your arms, over your collarbone. Lean back to get palm prints on your thighs. Sits you on the desk to smear lines up your calves. You even tug your shirt up, giggling all the while, so that he can mark up your stomach.

He pauses at the gunshot. Places his blackened thumb over the entry scar. Pulls it away to see the whorls of his fingerprint covering it.

You soften, kind hands cupping his jaw and guiding him up. Up and up… until your plush lips are slotted against his. His own stained hands land on your hips – likely ruining your little sleep shorts – and pull you as close as he can get you. Infusing himself with the taste of you, of your love, of your belonging.

“Yours,” you murmur against his mangled mouth.

“Yours,” he repeats.

The next day, you walk into the mess hall with Nikto’s fingers hooked into your belt loops. There’s a single black smudge on your jaw.

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#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto's commandments

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ramp-it-up · 5 months ago

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Call Me Captain When I...

Summary: You were Steve's subordinate, but you'd met as friends. And Steve needs your help with something.

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. S MUT! Early CATWS Steve, talk of politics, flashbacks, groping while asleep, Not-so Inexpereinced-ish Steve, Dom Steve, Friends to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, Captain and Sir kink, pulling rank, uniform kink, talking in sleep, masturbation, sex toy, voyeurism, dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, oral s ex (m receiving), raw p in v, intimations of female receiving oral.

A/N: This was supposed to be the conclusion to Greatest, but this popped in my head. This is set very soon after he first meets Sam and is still getting adjusted to the world. Also, I am not in the military and know nothing really of proper uniform or officer/subordinate address or etiquette. This is pure fantasy. Hope you like it. HBD Steve! 😁

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

-----

You woke up with a start, mouth dry, burning hot and seriously needing to pee.

You weren’t sick; the cause of your discomfort was the 240 pound super soldier next to you. You looked over to see Steve Rogers’ sleeping face six inches away from yours on the chaise lounge of your sofa, the blue glow from your smart tv’s home screen bathing his face in eerie light.

You allowed yourself two minutes to admire the man you had come to have a huge problematic crush on in such a short time.

You smiled to think of the first time you saw him in person as he wandered into the Information Technology Division of S.H.I.E.L.D., which you were running.

------

He wasn’t in uniform, but who he was and his rank was unmistakable. Everyone rose when he entered. You watched him investigate the division by wandering around and looking at soldier’s workstation screens, reading files on desks, which was fine. The venerated Captain Steve Rogers had just about as high a clearance as anyone in the room.

You recognized the look on his face, a mixture of awe and earnestness, and something happened with your heart.

You couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to wake up, 70 years out of your own time. You watched his face, noting the anxiety, but mirroring his slight smile when he saw the book stacks at the rear of the room. Something like relief overtook his features. He scanned the room, calculating that the stacks went quite a way back into the facility, then he sized up the size of the troops in the division.

You commanded 24 soldiers who helped you to oversee a good amount of basic historical, and quite a lot of classified information for SHIELD. You were too busy watching Steve’s face when his eyes found yours, and were caught off guard when he addressed you although you should not have been.

“Looks like you have quite the mission, Lieutenant.”

You snapped to attention and responded.

“Yes, Sir. Information is key for the success of SHIELD, and we take pride in our work.”

“At ease.”

Captain Rogers stood before you as you adjusted to parade rest.

“I hear you do great work, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

There was an awkward silence.

“I need some help.”

“Sir?”

Steve huffed, annoyed at your formality. He looked around to see your entire division staring.

“Can we go into your office?”

“Of course, Sir.”

Once the door was closed, Steve had to address this first point, even though his body thrilled when you called him ‘Sir.’”

“You don’t need to be so formal, you know. You and I are friends, aren’t we?”

At the dulcet tone in his voice, you looked him in the eye, although you remained at parade rest. You knew that your troops were looking through your window. Steve noticed that your blinds were open and went to close them, which irritated you. That would only arouse suspicion.

Steve quickly admired your body in your work greens, eyes scanning from your boots up your pants, which were tailored very well out of necessity, to your shirt as he marveled how your buttons stayed closed. He chuckled as he had the same problem himself.

Your eyes were on him as his made their way to your face.

“You said you needed something, Captain?”

He almost groaned at that address. He needed you, spread out on his bed, calling him Captain and begging him to fuck you. But he had to play it cool.

“I have this problem. And only you can help me with it.”

Steve had no idea how much that sounded like a line, so he barrelled ahead. He needed you, and he knew it from the moment he saw you at Sam’s house party the night before. The fact that you introduced yourself as a librarian endeared you to him, and the kind way that you talked to him all night about historical events of the 20th and 21st century cemented your place in his heart. He even adopted Sam’s nickname for you, Libby the librarian.

“I need a tutor.”

He’d piqued your interest.

“Sir?”

This time his groan was audible. That cute little head tilt was driving him crazy. And your braids up in that neat braid bun. You were wound tight at work.He wanted to have them down, waving along your ass and hypnotizing like they were last night. He wanted to wrap them around his hand as he….

You were going to be the death of him. He cleared his throat.

“I need someone to bring me up to speed. Someone who can help me understand this brave new world we have here.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes just scanned his face. He continued talking to fill the void.

“I mean, I wake up, and everything is different, society, technology, women, hell, even the president…”

“You never dreamed we’d have a black president, did you?”

You were toe to toe with him now, an equal in the field of knowledge, superior to him in history and culture. Steve liked this feeling. He really needed you.

“Honestly. No. I’ve missed the history that would lead me there. That’s why I need you.”

You bristled slightly, straightening your posture again and looking at the wall. Steve caught the vibe.

“This is not a command. I’m coming to you as a new friend that I thought we both gained last night. I want help. I’m asking you. Not as my subordinate, but as a friend. Please, Libby.”

Steve’s earnest plea melted you on the inside. You gave up trying to keep him at arm's length. You knew it was not appropriate what you did last night in your bedroom as you thought of the conversation with him last night. His voice, his eyes, those lips. And you did not overlook that body beneath his button up shirt and khakis.

But he’d made it clear that you were friends and you would rock with that. Besides, you wanted to help America’s number one soldier see all sides of what he was fighting for.

He needed to see the truth.

“Alright. One evening a week. Thursdays good for you?”

You walked around your desk and grabbed a post it note and started writing.

Steve was elated and nodded until you looked up at him and he responded verbally.

“Yes.”

He kind of liked you in control. It might be that much more pleasureable to subdue you. He shook his head, surprised at his own thoughts.

“Great.”

You tore off a note and handed it to him.

“Order these books. Have one read, doesn’t matter which, by this Thursday and meet me at Pete’s Deli at 5:30.”

“Thank you.”

You smiled at him and Steve thought he was going to kneel at your feet.

“Don’t thank me yet until you’ve survived one of my very serious debates.”

“Sounds grueling.”

“You have no idea.”

—---

Over the last four months, you and Steve debated, argued, went through periods of needing space from each other, and late nights texting about tons of topics and cultural events during “the ice years,” as Steve called them. It was almost like a marriage.

You’d graduated from books, to Ted Talks, to movies, to videos on tons of topics and Steve was developing quite the knowledge base.

You were proud of him, he digested information, reasoned it out, and didn’t become a carbon copy of you, but a well informed, better Steve Rogers.

And fuck all, that made him even hotter.

Now, you were moving to the popular culture portion of your tutoring, and the night before you’d started the 1980’s/Spike Lee movie portion of your lessons.

You’d binged She’s Gotta Have It, School Daze, and fell asleep halfway through Do The Right Thing. Now you were trapped between the arm of your couch and a 240 lb heat generator super strong super soldier.

You inched out from under Steve’s thick thigh, which was thrown over your legs, and was about to be able to escape when he turned over, his hand grabbing your boob and his fingers skillfully finding your thickened nub.

“Thank God for the right nipple. Thank God for the left nipple…”

You froze, but then remembered that was a line from the movie, and continued trying to escape without waking Steve up. He couldn’t be held responsible for his subconscious.

“Libby, wanna suck your nipples…please..”

You froze again. Well this was a development. Steve’s subconscious was trying to slide.

“Call me Captain when I suck your nipples. Sir when you suck me off…”

You managed to get up and you stood there, watching Steve, who was snoring now, and had no idea what he’d just said. You shook your head at the fact that he hadn’t learned the power of grey sweat pants.

In a daze, you walked to the bathroom and somehow ended up in the shower before you realized you had a guest. You were trying to process, and it was just a coincidence that your Leelo was in there. You’d be able to slake your hunger and clean up before he awoke.

Steve woke up, confused for a minute, and noticed that it was 4 am.

He was on your couch with a Giant boner, and someone was in the shower. He stood up, stretched and went to your kitchen for a bottle of water when he heard you moan.

Wanting to make sure that you were okay, Steve went to your slightly open bathroom door and got an earful.

“Ohhhh. Fuck, Captain, yessssss.”

Steve’s heart began to beat as he took a peek in at you through the clear glass of your shower, back against the wall as you held a sex toy to your pussy. The sight made him forget to breahe. The way you convulsed made his dick jump in his sweats. He rubbed himself to try and calm down, but your voice making those pretty sounds made him grab himself and chase friction against his clothes.

“Yes, Sir… would love to…suck… you…. offfff….fuck, Steve….!”

The sound of his name as you came made him feral and he hit his hand against the door frame.

You stopped what you were doing as you looked toward the door. Steve used his best stealth tactics to go back to the couch, and that’s where he was when you came out of the bathroom in your robe.

“How much did you hear? Did you see anything?”

The way he was looking at you told you everything.

“I’m sorry, Steve. You were talking in your sleep, because of the movies. I got heated at what you said. Needed to relieve some tension. I understand if you want to stop meeting up. I’ve not been professional. Or a friend.”

“What did I say?”

“Hunh?”

Steve stood up and walked toward you. His voice was so deep.

“What did I say when I was asleep?”

You gulped, but then you just said it.

“You said that you wanted to… suck my nipples and you said, ‘call me Captain when I suck your nipples. Sir when you suck me off…’”

Steve was closer now.

“That wasn’t because of the movies.”

His hand was above you on the wall and you were staring up into his impossible blue eyes, which seemed to be shining in the dim light.

“It’s what I want to happen.”

“S-steve?”

Steve’s hand went to your hair, loosening the bun that you’d made for the shower.

“But I figured you only wanted to be friends, y’know?

“We are friends. That’s what you established when you came to my office…”

Steve fisted your braids in his hand and drew your head toward his.

“I needed your help, true. But I was trying to get close to you without knowing how to make my move. Didn’t think you wanted me too, but what I just saw you doing in that bathroom. What I heard you saying, Libby…”

He stopped, his lips mere centimeters from yours.

“Christ, do you know how that ruined me?”

You whimpered in your throat and closed the distance between you.

If a supersoldier could slam someone against the wall gently, that is what Steve Rogers did to you as his lips and tongue explored yours. Your hands found his hair and tugged as he pulled yours, and your body pressed against his.

Steve pressed soft kisses all along your face. When he finally reached your lips, he teased you, barely touching them, causing you to whimper. He deepened the kiss, his tongue licking at yours, daring it to follow. Your mind was completely blown, and when you separated for air, Steve asked a question.

“So. Can you call me Captain when I suck your nipples? Sir when you suck me off?”

Your eyes met his and you made a silent agreement.

“Oh Yes, Sir.”

“Hmmmmmm.”

Steve closed his eyes and groaned.

“Good girl. Correct answer.”

Steve kissed you again and this time his hands explored your body too. Your skin was moist and hot from the shower, and he ignited it even more. You writhed against him, brushing your nipples against his chest, causing them to swell and thicken. He groaned into your mouth, and it sent a pool of desire straight to your core. His hard cock pressed into your thigh insistently, and you reached into his sweats to wrap your hand around the rigid length of it.

“Jesus….”

Steve’s ragged breath huffed into your face as his hand found your breasts and weighed them, rolling each of your nipples between his thumbs. You continued to stroke him, causing his hips to jerk up into your palm, beads of moisture helping to lubricate your hand as you stroked him as best you could, struggling to grip his girth.

“Is this gonna fit in my mouth? In my pussy?”

Steve growled and kissed you again, his fingers parting your robe and dipping between your thighs. You shivered as first, one impossibly long thick finger slipped inside your slick heat, then two.

“We’ll make it work. You are so wet. So ready. And that mouth. If I can just experience you trying, I’d struggle not to blow my load, Libby. M’ struggling right now with just your hand.”

“Let’s go to my bed.”

“Give me one now.”

“But-”

“What did I just say Lieutenant? Who is in command?”

Lust rocked your body at Steve pulling rank. You whimpered again.

“You are, Captain.”

“That’s right. Now stay here, and take this like the soldier you are.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Steve rewarded you with a kiss and then trailed more down your neck, moving south. He paused, his breath warming the skin over one of your swollen peaks. You were in agony.

“Captain, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me feel your lips.”

“As you wish.”

You writhed as he kissed everywhere except where you wanted him. You tugged on his hair, which did nothing to dissuade him from his mission of driving you crazy.

“I love that you are so desperate for me, Lib. So damn attractive.”

He hovered over your nipple as he teased it with the hot air from his mouth, looking up at you with those blue, blue eyes.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes, Captain!”

Steve added his thumb to the mix of his fingers pumping in and out of you. He kept the pace consistent, no matter how much you tried to move against his fingers. Chuckling, he finally settled his lips around your nipple and hallowed his cheeks as he drew you into his mouth, causing your pussy to shudder to gush over his fingers as you came.

“C-captain!”

“Yes, Doll?”

“N-need you to fuck me. Please.”

“Who’s in command?”

He grazed your nipple with his teeth.

“You, Captain, I—”

Steve withdrew his fingers from your cunt.

“Can you call me Sir first?”

You looked into his eyes and suddenly you wanted nothing more. You dropped to your knees in your living room, not caring how the hardwood felt on your knees. Relishing it, even.

Steve pushed your robe off your shoulders and it pooled around you as you watched him take off his t-shirt and pull down his sweats and boxers. You practically drooled at the sight of the thick tan staff in front of your face.

You watched Steve’s thick fingers grab the base of himself and squeeze and you looked up to see him clenching his jaw.

“You’ are trying to make me blow my load on your face with those eyes of yours, Lieutenant. Maybe I should ask you again. Who is in charge here?”

“You Sir. Let me taste you, please?”

You were topping him with a request, but Steve let it slide as his cock slid past your lips and tongue.

“So fucking hot. Isn’t that what the kids say?”

Steve took your head in his hands as you put your hands behind your back and let him fuck your face. You hummed an acknowledgement as Steve groaned above you. Your pussy was sopping wet at this point.

Steve let go of your head and braced himself against the wall as he warned you through clenched teeth.

“Do you want this? Because… it….fuck… here it comes….”

You prepared yourself and swallowed quite a lot of Steve’s cum, which tasted surprisingly good. You moaned your approval as he gave you his spend.

He grasped himself again and pulled his still hard cock out of your mouth as you grinned up at him.

“I could do that all day, Doll." He licked his lips as he looked down at you.

"Where is your bedroom again?”

You smiled and took his hand as he helped you to stand, and he followed you to your bedroom, nodding his head toward your California king.

“Get on the bed.”

Steve watched as you obeyed and stroked himself. Then, he kneeled beside you and ran his fingers along your body.

“You don’t know how much I’ve thought about this.”

You rolled under his touch, desire consuming you.

“Please…Steve”

Steve sighed, but secretly thrilled that his dream was coming true. You were begging him for it.

“I thought you knew what this was, who was in charge…”

He rolled your nipple and then pinched it when you said,

"You are, Sir!"

Steve rolled his big body over yours, supporting himself with his arms over your head. His cock nudged your wet slit, and he swore.

“So damn good, Doll.”

You moved your hips, trying for friction, or the goal, penetration, desperate now.

“Please, Steve, don’t make me wait. I need you. I’m yours.”

Steve stilled, and looked into your eyes.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that…that you’re mine?”

His tongue licked at your bottom lip before he kissed you.

“I’m not letting you go.”

His hips started moving, sliding his rigid member through your folds before testing your entrance. His eyes stuttered closed at the resistance there and at the way you slowly yielded open for him. Your eyes rolled back as he stretched you out like never before, fully sliding into you.

You both gasped as he bottomed out, and you gazed at each other, getting lost in the moment. You knew you would never be the same as you met Steve’s thrusts and he didn’t break eye contact as he stroked you to the most mind-numbing orgasm you’d ever had, embarrassingly quickly.

Steve stroked lazily for a few minutes before he pulled out, turned you over and admired your back, tenderly kissing your shoulder blades.

“You are so beautiful. Everywhere.”

He lined up to your sopping wet pussy and slowly breached you again.

“What is the proper response, Lieutenant?”

“To what, Sir?”

Steve’s head dropped so that his hair brushed your neck and his tongue traced your spine, causing you to arch your back as he slid all of the way home.

“To the statement of fact that you are beautiful. Everywhere.”

His voice was a desperate groan, and so sexy.

“Oh,” you exclaimed, and kept your mouth open, searching for air because you almost forgot how to breathe.

Steve smacked your ass.

“That’s not correct.”

He was going hard now, and his voice was strained. He was close.

“Y-yes, Sirrrrrrr!”

You came again, pussy clutching Captain America’s cock. Steve became the most profane you’d ever heard him.

“Feels so fucking good, Doll. Love this ass, and this tight, wet, pussy. Fuckkkkk!”

Steve roared as you felt his hot ropes of cum spurt inside you, triggering yet another orgasm.

“Oh my goddd!”

You collapsed and Steve moved so that you were still connected, but on your sides.

“We’ve got to finish the movie. Need to find out what happens with Mookie…”

"Yes, Sir."

But Steve was falling asleep, and you looked over your shoulder at the super soldier who looked more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. You kissed his arm, which was wound around you, and which was holding you tight.

—--

The next Thursday, you were in your office when you heard a commotion. You looked out of your window as you saw Captain Rogers striding toward your office, this time in uniform, his hat under his arm. You closed your blinds and went to stand outside the door of your space as he moved nearer to you.

Damn. You should never have told Steve how much him being in uniform affected you.

“Captain Rogers, this is a surprise.”

You kept your eyes straight ahead as you stood at attention and he moved around you.

“I need your help again, Lieutenant. In your office. Now.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“At ease.”

You relaxed as Steve put his hat on your desk, advanced upon you, putting his hands on your waist as he kissed you silly while easily lifting you and placing you on your desk. He backed up to take a look at you as you crossed your legs.

“I’m here to inspect your uniform today, Lieutenant. From this view, it looks splendid.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

You straightened your torso and pulled on your jacket, but you knew that he was speaking about the fact that you’d worn a skirt today, as he requested.

“I’m interested to see if you followed all instructions.”

Steve’s hands were on your thighs and he pulled them apart and got on his knees before you. He smiled and licked his lips as he saw that you were in fact, not wearing any underwear. He also could smell your arousal and opened his mouth to breathe it in. He was transfixed. You snapped him out of it when you asked him a question.

“You said you needed help, Sir?”

He looked up at your cocky grin.

“Yes, lieutenant. Need you to help me with a new term I came across today in my reading. Cunnilingus?”

“Y-yes, Sir. Of course Sir.”

It was all you could say as Captain Steve Rogers inspected your uniform from underneath your skirt.

------

Read Mood.

Reblog if you liked it!

#steve rogers #steve rogers birthday #born on the fourth of july #captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans smut #steve rogers x shield reader #sam wilson #catw #captain america and the winter soldier #hbd Steve Rogers #happy birthday steve rogers #4th of july #steve rogers x black!reader

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saturnsbabyboii · 2 years ago

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🫧My experience being friends with the Moon signs 🫧

-Please remember that this is not a reflection of everyone with said placement. The behaviors of a single asshole aren't that of the many (sometimes). Also, I don't/didn't have friends with all Moons. Some would have one person or no specific person, and rather so, I'll be giving general observations.

🫧Taurus Moon🫧

Friend #1: Kind, loving, generous, thoughtful, quiet, slow, and internalizes everything. She is one of my closest friends ever. She is practically the father figure of the group, helping everyone out, protecting them, advocating, giving advice, and making sure that they're set and good. Picky with her friends, many of them are people she has known since childhood, and most are her cousins with very few that aren't related to her. Tech and cyber expert. A big animal and nature lover. She loves her space and peace, she is slow to return texts, hates calls, and has the social battery of a sloth. Good singing voice. Loves video games, and is OBSESSED with whatever she has an interest in. Overall, her emotions are well-regulated, however, as an Earth Moon she rationalizes herself and stays pretty chill, even when she needs to pipe up.

Friend #2: Obsessive, jealous, sensual, persistent, indulgent yet very frugal, and stubborn af. A big-time foodie, he does have quite the appetite. Good singing voice too. Always at the clearance section of 'Bath and Body Works'. Thrifty. Got to have three of the same body spray. Candle queen. Trust issues with a very paranoid outlook on things. A bit greedy. Always asking people to buy them things. Very sexual. Cares for his younger sisters and loves his family and friends.

Friend #3: Big-time nerd. Memes are his only talking reference. Great singing voice and can imitate voices very well. Shy extrovert. Loves animations and even studied to be an animator and designer. Hugger. Big animal lover (he legit has what seems like a zoo of pets at home).

Friend #4: Obsessed with history (especially medieval history). All about death and our relationship with mortality. A literal cat. Isn't afraid to get her hands dirty. Goes all in on a subject of interest. Has the same appearance and sense of style as always.

I find Taurus Moons to be very comforting and a joy to be around. They defiantly bring a sense of stability to the relationship, mainly because they're predictable. Not in the "boring" sense but rather that they're people of clear and simple emotions no matter how grand they're in expression, it's pretty clear what they feel, how they feel, and why; Basically, there's no catch or an underbelly to their emotions. Other qualities I have found was that they're pretty aloof, they hate to be intimate with people they barely know, and they actually like fast-paced relationships (only if they really like you), they love to dress simply but chic, and they do have a well known "thing". They always got that "thing" you associate with them and they have it for comfort, like a kid with a blanket or a toy. They also love animals, pastels, the color brown, and karaoke. Hates confrontation and always second guesses their gut feeling. They're also very stubborn and in general, find it much harder to break out of habitual cycles of disconnecting and detachment when shit gets real.

🫧Gemini Moon🫧

Friend #1: Very smart. Great writer and lyricist. Talented musician and singer. Loves people. A bit timid about being in the spotlight. Loves to connect with others over interests, especially art and social issues. Great dresser. Romantic. Bends too fast. Dislikes confrontation but would stand up for a loved one. Bad judge of character (always attracts cheaters and assholes).

Friend #2: Certified L.A.B (lying ass bitch). Says shit for the sake of saying shit. Fake trauma bonding. Leeches off of people. Toxic. Abusive. Always with abusers. Manipulative and hateful. Been around the block. Would do anything for validation. Makes up stories about others to play the role of the victim. (Very likely she has a cluster B personality disorder and no Gemini Moon would claim her.)

I think I have experienced two extremes of this moon, with one being highly and continuously evolving and the other being consistently trash. I am fond of the energy that Gemini has on the moon. There's this innocence that they possess at the core, and it could be the purest and most genuine thing or the biggest fabrication in history. Nonetheless, I do love to be around them and the energy they bring to a relationship. It is always lively, fresh, and new, they'll always come up with something to do with you, and always find a way to spend time and be close to you. They definitely give mixed signals since they tend to be a bit playful, especially in their platonic relationships, and they are very touchy. They're bold and outspoken generally about how they feel. They're less guarded and more likely to share and talk about their problems and their opinions. In contrast, they would rather die than open up about their deep true emotions.

🫧Cancer Moon🫧

Talking about their ex was their favorite pastime. Never misses an important function. Celebrations and social events were considered important. The person that would want to go somewhere but then gets upset because things did not go how they imagined they would. Ruminates on past events and feelings. Vents a lot but also gives you the space to do so. Strong stan on temporary emotions and circumstances. Feels how she feels and doesn't care how others perceive her for it, or what they think about it. Low key ferocious (I live for it though). The only person I know that isn't afraid to publicly voice their boundaries when crossed.

I don't think I met another Cancer Moon besides this person, and we became friends only because we were together in similar classes at uni. Overall, I would say from what I have observed, her relationships with her friends were always great and seemed pretty solid. Romantically though, sis was very challenged, and I don't think it was totally her date's fault. She is an acquired taste and she knows what she wants. Seems very hung up on the idea of meeting expectations and fighting an imaginary clock to get THE perfect life. Good luck with that.

🫧Leo Moon🫧

Creative. Self-motivated. A visionary. The definition of an untamable person. Careful of who they keep company. Lives for an adventure. All about self-expressing, being authentic, and breaking the system. Great philosophical talker. Has true parental instincts. Very comfortable with themselves. Sexual. Great body-mind attunement. Good at mirroring others.

I have heard/read a lot of shit spewing about this placement, but I have to say that I do love to meet them. They're a breath of fresh air. Although I get how they can give an impression of a know it all "I am better than you" life dula, I never detect malice in their approach and usually they're more than respectful if you talk to them about it. They carry the weight of life with such ease, and I envy their perseverance. They definitely love to live life to the fullest. They have their select few friends that they have for a lifetime and like to keep it that way.

🫧Virgo Moon🫧

Never been friends with a Virgo Moon, although not for lack of trying but they themselves are quite apprehensive of bonds with people. They're close to their family and the friends they have they got to know them through school, work, or because they had no other option than to be around you. A molded chaos, and an organized mess. Life runs much faster for them and there's never enough time to finish anything. Despite their tendency to give everything a sense of debilitating urgency, they aren't hypochondriacs. Being strong and well functioning is important to them, as such they take good care of their bodies and surroundings. Oddly spiritual with a devolution to routine rituals. Their emotions are well hidden, they have the hardest exterior to crack. However, they're avid about mental health and wellness. I have also noticed that they tend to lash out, uncharacteristic of them, when they're overwhelmed or feel cornered.

🫧Libra Moon🫧

Friend #1: Very sweet. Bad Bitch™. Always looks good. Best dancer I know. Craves love and relationships. Attracts drama. They are very close to their family. Heavily underestimated. "Legally Blond" but Elle is a Latina that studies medicine. Loves astrology. Takes care of their friendships. Always on the go. Meeting new people all the time.

Friend #2: Pushover. Non-confrontational yet very aggressive. Easily frustrated. Closed minded to different interests. A bit extreme and abrasive. HATES astrology. LOVES the show 'Friends'. Self-critical. Insecure.

A placement that perfectly embodies Libra. Heavenly body and presence. Indecisive as hell. Always stuck in bad relationships. Head is always in the clouds. Romanticizing everything. Walking like they're being filmed. I would say there is an emphasis on companionship and finding "the one" throughout their lives, plus drama is second nature. They might be used to drama so much so that they lose sense of their boundaries and self, in turn making them vulnerable to manipulation and abuse. Their "all about me" era is like no other and is a true turning point in their lives. They seem to thrive when are surrounded by masculinity and masculine people, or overall very competitive and cut-throat environment. They use being underestimated to their advantage.

🫧Scorpio Moon🫧

"Me, myself and I". Paranoid as hell. Big spender. Artistic. Good at portrait sketching. Dresses well. Loves drama. Is the drama. Tone deaf. Low-key ungrateful. An immense sense of self-importance. Passive aggressive. PETTY. Mature exterior with very childish interests. Hypercritical of everything, including themselves.

"Jesus take the wheel" was made as a phrase for dealing with a Scorpio Moon. I get the fragility and being highly emotional and sensitive, that I read about. However, I mostly find them to be disagreeable and pensive. You never know what is the truth, so I assume everything is a lie, and if it's the truth then there must be a catch. They would wake up and the day already sucks. They love to surround themselves with expensive things. It's uncomfortable to be around a placement that seems to believe their own projections and preconceived notions of others rather than getting to know people, or maybe just mind their own business. I would say though that having a Scorpio Moon is probably unpleasant, but I have seen worse happen to other placements with "favorable" moons. And of course, I am talking about the ones that I have met and not every single Scorpio Moon out there.

🫧Sagittarius Moon🫧

Friend #1: Life of the party (actually the life of life). Loves to laugh. Comfortable with everyone. Always hype. Smokes like a chimney. Either brave or stupid. Hype. Frequent dealings with older guys. No chills. Loves to play with friends. Car hangouts over going into places. Funny on the outside, sad on the inside.

Friend #2: Very smart. Tarot mogul. Always a good time. Great convorsaitonlist. A softie. Very sensitive. Expressive.

Friend #3: Would cut a bitch. A true ride or die. A person you want to be on her good side. An unofficial dominatrix. Sweet but feisty. Loves her cat. Always lit. Would do anything for her friends. A good bullshit detector.

A favorite of mine, it is very hard not to like a Sag moon. They're so caring of others and are always making sure that you're good and having a good time. They're the type of person to trust if you're in a bar or a club. I would say that there is a very sad side to them under all that happiness. They're always anxious, which is probably why they don't sleep or eat very well. They also get a lot of migraines. If they open up then they really really really trust you (which is important to them since they can vibe and hang out with anyone but barely trust). They usually have a much calmer Earth sun best friend. I would say that they act much older than their when young but then seem to stay stuck on childish cycles of defensiveness and escapism as they get older.

🫧Capricorn Moon🫧

Friend #1: Artistic and crafty. Resilient. Capable of being very sweet and stern. Good with money, planning, and organizing. Maticolus. Conscious and realistic about their growth and development. Loves animals. Loves to be active in nature. A strong believer in karma.

Friend #2: A true powerhouse. Wonderwoman. My mentor and only real-life role model. An established businesswoman. Rags to riches. Despite having a physical disability she can drive, open pickle jars, do lifts and push up, plus she is a fashion designer that can sew. All of that with one arm. A fighter through and through.

Never had the privilege of being friends with many Capricorn Moons but I have known quite a few and some are very close friends of my family. A rough start in life. They really do take time to peak, however, the glow-up is real. Least spiritual Moon sign. Not egotistical or cold as I read so often. Quite warm and welcoming actually. They might be borderline Darwinists when it comes to the importance of human life and mortality. Believers of hard work and initiative. Lovers and fighters. Silent passion. When young, their relationship with their mother can be described as codependent, and their relationship with their father is strained with a sense of animosity. However, with time the roles seem to slowly reverse. Regardless, their family defenatliy takes precedence throughout their lives. They value respect more than anything else.

🫧Aquarius Moon🫧

Friend #1: Devoted to volunteer work and other people. The "fixer" type. Wants to be needed. Self-help books are all they read. Their interests and style are influenced by the people they're hanging out with. Accidentally (or maybe not) trauma bond with others. Desires to be a leader. Emotions focused. Worries about their reputation a lot. No luck with love. And also in friendship. Many friends, very few that are close, and only one has been consistent so far. Loves to have hangouts with large groups.

Friend #2: Music is their soul. Hippie. Loves acting. "center of attention". Dress based on aesthetics. TikTok addict. Interested in astrology and spirituality. Cold. Performative.

Friend #3: Know-it-all. Bad at expressing themself. No filter. Self-centered. Radical thinking. "Everyone is stupid". Loves to stand out. Learned how to finish a Rubix cube just to show it off. Having low grades is a "red flag" to him. Has a strong desire to be loved, yet none to give it back.

Friend #4: All about the drama and lights. Emotionally explosive at times. Hiding behind a facade. Loves to meet different people. Business savvy. Guarded but would give you their heart once they let it down. Displays emotions as anger when in reality they're scared. Superficial connections to others are more prevalent.

Generally, these people are dynamic and quite sociable. They're people focused in the best and worst ways possible. There is a constant desire to change surroundings (and at times help others change and grow) but they themselves tend to be relatively rigid at the core. Impressionistic (even though they would probably deny it). Self-image is usually not the reality (this could manifest in being overconfident or self-critical). They love to work with their hands a lot and do much better when working with others in comparison to working alone. They are altruistic but aren't attentive to others' desires; as a result, they believe they know better about everything and "what is best" depending on the situation. Imitates emotions rather than naturally expressing them.

🫧Pisces Moon🫧

Another very close friend of mine. Hard to read. Intelligent. People smart. Their friends are family. Uncomfortable with expressing their emotions, yet a good listener. Extroverted introvert. Loves to go out and meet people. Likes to club, going to parties, playing video games, and trying out new things. Loyal. Tough shell, soft heart. Doesn't give a flying fuck about what strangers think of them. Trophy hunter. A very realistic and pragmatic view of the world. Melancholic. They are perceived as troubled when they're just quiet. Low-key altruistic.

This Moon sign is not as bubbly as I have heard about it. They're hard to pinpoint as they usually come off as either Aquarius or Scorpio Moons. They tend to go through much more emotional turmoil, especially as children. They have a floaty feel to them. They feel a lot but nothing at once. They are usually witnesses to harm done to others and suffer losses related to other people rather be it themselves directly, which contributes to a sense of isolation from their peers. They do definitely grow into brave people that face life despite all the baggage they seem to drag around. By far the moon sign that takes the longest to open up honestly and completely, although they do experience spats of anxiety from time to time. Also FOOOOODDDD. They love food and everything that brings them comfort. Vices.

🫧Aries Moon🫧

Very emotional yet not expressive. Dedicated and strong-willed (she is a pediatrician). Hung up on "the one that got away". A true badass. So pretty yet so sad. Her dogs are her babies. Always choosing violence. Femme fatal that drives a Jeep Wrangler.

Emotions that cut deeper than a sword. They seem to compensate for emotional and inner needs with material things and career achievements. Very intimidating when you meet them at first, as they appear put together and quite the expert in their field. They spiral downwards if life doesn't go their way. Personally, I think this moon sign is the most emotionally rigid. Not for their lack of desire to change but rather that they get stuck on what their heart desire and can't seem to see or want anything other than that thing or person that they can't get. They also seem hellbent on trying to control what we can't control, such as the past, other people, and unforeseen misfortune. Highly upkeep on their exterior. Needs some form of vice to process emotions, usually it's smoking and drinking. They tend to be their parents favorite.

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woodlandwizard77 · 4 months ago

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A Step by Step Guide to Losing Your D**k

I recently wrote a series of messages to my aunt talking about all the steps I need to do to get bottom surgery, a penile inversion vaginoplasty at Mt. Sinai, in the next year or two. Its a long list. And everytime I added something she had a sort of “wow thats rough” reaction, but to me its just the to do list. So I decided to write them all out.

Start transition DONE

Most insurance companies and surgeons require you to have socially transitioned and have done HRT for at least 1 year at the time of operation

For social transition, this was March of 2024

For HRT it will be January of 2025

Get a referral to a surgeon (I am here)

In my case, Mt. Sinai in Manhattan

My Doctor referred me, but Mt. Sinai takes self referrals

Start laser hair removal

Book a consultation (I am here)

Go to laser frequently enough to satisfy surgeon

Convince Mom and Dad to help out DONE

Get 2 letters

Social Worker (1)

PCP's Office

Social Worker (2)

Mt. Sinai

Get a gender affirmation loan through the local credit union

Work two weeks so I can take in pay stubs

Get a letter from anybody (probably my HRT prescriber

Meet with representative and either open a line of credit or take out a loan

Consultation with Mt. Sinai’s team

Wait 3-6 months (I’m here)

Bring letters

My insurance only requires 2, less than Mt. Sinai thinks insurance will need, and Mt. Sinai provides 1 of them. Meaning the other is through IHS Behavioral

Schedule Social Work pre surgical consult appt

Schedule Mental Health and Medical Clearance with Registrar

Go to NYC for 1-2 nights, maybe for each, hopefully just once

Maybe also for Social Work thing

Consult with Surgeon

Wait until I’ve worked about 12 months to get short term disability

Probably summer (ASAP) and when Mom has time off

Do logistics

Book an airbnb, hotel, etc for recovery

Starting a few days after OR date and lasting a little over a month

Within a 90 minute drive of Mt. Sinai

Rural enough that Mom is comfortable to help and can go home if someone else shows up

Probably New Jersey, maybe Hudson Valley

Has at least 1, preferably 2, separate bedrooms

Has 2 beds

Has ADA accessible entry

Has a kitchen

Has a full bath, preferably and a half

Has internet and preferably a TV

Lodging for Mom + Dad/care team while I’m in OR

Probably 5-7 days

Preferably with a 1-2 day buffer period before OR date (included in the 7 day estimate) so I can enjoy the city

Either within a short walk from Mt. Sinai or on the same subway line as Mt. Sinai

RW, 1, or ACE

Someone to help me get from recovery location to Mt. Sinai while not in NYC

Develop and get list of items needed for recovery

Dilator

Pads

Gowns/loose clothing

Comfort food

Coordinate missing 8-9 weeks of work

Take care with who knows what before I leave

Inform HR, department manager, and work friends whats up

Get cleared for surgery and get an OR date

Probably a 6-12 month date from clearance

Get pre clearance testing through PCP or a lab in hometown

Go to NYC for that if need be

Week Before Surgery

No alcohol, no aspirin, NSAIDs, herbal supplements, or fish oil

Consult for other non aspirin blood thinners (which I am not on)

No alcohol for 3 weeks after as well

Tylenol/Acetaminophen is okay

Go downstate

See friends from NYC?

Bring Mom/Dad?

Do something fun in Manhattan

Get a COVID test

Take an anti-bacterial bath

Day before surgery

Breakfast before 9am

Last meal

Drink Golytely bowel solution around noon

Chemically induced diarrhea

Clear fluids only after golytely

(includes coffee, tea, water, broth, some juices)

Nothing goes in the stomach after midnight

Some medication okay with a sip of water

HRT???

Get surgery (a penile inversion vaginoplasty)

1 to 1+½ days

I’ve heard of as long as three

3-5 day hospital stay

Mom and Dad probably stay in Manhattan then

Go to recovery location

Drive with seat reclined

Stay for 4 weeks, pretty much bedridden

Go to follow ups

Dilate

Go home

Continue recovery for another 2-4 weeks at home

Follow up with PCP

Return to life

#mtf girl #transgender #transfem #trans woman #srs #bottom surgery #mtf bottom surgery #transblr #transition journal #queer #lgbtq #lgbtqia #gender affirming care #gender affirming surgery

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chaosandmarigolds · 5 months ago

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EEEEK (pt…I dunno, she’s short! Just getting back into the swing of things)

“Sooooo,” Ollie looks out the window of the car, it had been two naps and about seven movies since he met this woman so he was bit more confused on why you or Simon hadn’t come to pick him up yet, “is my mom coming soon?”

the woman looks back at the boy, making a clicking sound before shrugging, “Depends if your dad comes.”

“my dad sucks.”

she faltered for a moment and then nodded, “Caleb- uh…I guess. I mean your new dad.”

To that the four year old blinks and then looks to the woman, “Ister Riley?”

“M…is that what you call him?” “He’s my Ister Riley.”

—

Johnny stood on the other side of the one way mirror, staring in at Caleb…who looked like he had seen better days, the man was trembling. It had taken Price about five minutes to get the clearance to take the case over, so there he stood- in his bathing suit, fully prepared to kill a man.

He heard the door open and he didn’t take a long moment to guess, “How th’ missus?” He was met with silence, so he looked over his shoulder to Simon who seemed to be steaming, so he speaks again- hoping to break him from the trance. “How’s lassie?”

Simon glanced to Johnny and then back to Caleb, “M going in.”

horrible idea. Terrible actually. But Johnny couldn’t find it in him to care about the safety of that man.

(that’s all! Tootles)

#simon ghost x reader #cod x you #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #coco's chaos <3 #cod fluff #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #cod john price #kyle garrick fluff #kyle gaz garrick

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zepskies · 2 months ago

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Lost on You - Part 12

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: And here we go, with our Avengers: Civil War moment…

Song Inspo: “I Go to Extremes” by Billy Joel

Word Count: 5.1K

Tags/Warnings: Violence, blood, and death. Angst, peril, hurt/comfort, and fluff.

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Part 12: A Fire in the Blood

Ben walked into the kitchen the next morning in search of coffee and food. He added some grounds to the coffeemaker on the counter and grabbed a bagel from the fridge, then slammed the door shut.

“All right, get the fuck out,” he said, as if to an empty room. “I’m gonna lose my breakfast before I even eat it.”

Slowly, Charlie and Donna stood up from behind the kitchen island. Both of them looked wrecked. Her hair was wild and disheveled. He had dark red lipstick smudged all around his mouth and neck. Their clothes were bundled in their hands, but they needed no further prompting to run butt-ass naked out of the kitchen. Ben shook his head.

“Fucking animals,” he muttered.

But he didn’t blame them for being bored.

Meanwhile down the hall, Donna pulled Charlie into the shower with her. She got him to start washing her hair while she bathed the rest of herself with a bar of soap.

“He took it a lot better than I expected,” she said.

“Well, he’s probably known since at least last night,” Charlie said, smirking. “The man’s got super hearing, and you didn’t exactly keep it down.”

She reached back to smack his thigh teasingly. “That’s not what I meant. I just thought he’d raise more hell.”

She actually frowned at the thought. Part of her had indulged with Charlie because she thought it might piss Ben off, but to her surprise, he didn’t seem to give much of a fuck. In the past, he once snapped a man’s wrist for touching her ass at a gala. In fact, he’d ruined a lot of perfectly good hookup opportunities for her by being his jealous, caveman self, even though he was whoring himself out with any willing female.

So now, either Ben hated her that much, or…he actually did care about you.

Ben answered his cell when it rang. It was a familiar number.

Arthur. This better be fucking it.

“Did you find her?” he asked.

“Yeah, I found her,” Arthur said, with a grim sigh. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Where?” Ben demanded. His hand clenched on the phone, threatening to crack the frame.

“Nottingham, West Virginia. It’s one of Vought’s most high-security labs. I didn’t even have clearance to know about it when I worked there,” he said. “It’s easy to miss though. Somewhere between a national forest and a couple of cemeteries.”

“Good enough for me,” Ben said. He finished his coffee in one quick slurp and headed over to his room to get the rest of his suit on. He was only half dressed.

“I hope you find her. Now I’ll be fucking off to Belize. Stan’s probably already got eyes on me,” said Arthur.

“Don’t you worry about Stan. After I get Sirena, I’m chopping the head off the fucking snake,” Ben said angrily.

“Okay, well, good luck to ya.”

After hanging up and lacing up his boots, Ben headed out of the room and down the hall. He banged a fist on the bathroom door, hard enough to rattle its hinges.

“Suit up, kids! We’re headed out.”

Arthur’s directions were direct enough. Donna had to park her car somewhere along the main road, but it was another mile or so before Ben finally found what they were looking for: a solitary building that looked like a nondescript farmhouse from the outside.

“This is their top secret high-security lab?” Charlie said. “Looks abandoned.”

“That’s exactly how they want it to look,” Ben said. It reminded him of the lab in Siberia. He was willing to bet that the lab itself ran several stories and floors underground.

Once they stepped out from the safety of the trees, gunshots rained from above and up ahead. There was a line of armed guards emerging from the front and the back of the building, while a helicopter descended from above.

Donna took out most of the guards on the ground, while Charlie shot his guns at the helicopter and took out the glass in the windshield. Ben threw up his shield at it, causing irreparable damage to the vessel. The pilot was forced to initiate a crash landing.

The helicopter doors opened, revealing Black Noir. He grabbed another man and jumped from the helicopter. The other man screamed, but the landing was swift. Noir made sure that Mindstorm landed on his feet, more or less, while the helicopter carved into the ground behind them and combusted.

Ah, the gang’s all here, Ben thought grimly. It saved him the trouble of hunting those two down as well.

“So it’s true,” Mindstorm said, taking in the sight of Ben with both astonishment and dread.

“Hey, Dan,” said Ben. “Looking rough.”

It was true. The man appeared to be a shell of his former self; thin, with lines of age around his eyes and across his forehead, his skin pale and splotchy. A decade of paranoia and reclusion hadn’t done much good for Dan. Noir must've scrounged him up from his hiding hole, like fishing out a rat from the sewer.

“Look, we don’t have to do this,” Charlie tried. “Just let him get Sirena out of there. After what you guys did, she doesn’t deserve that.”

Ben glanced at his former sidekick. He actually seemed sincere.

Too bad Noir wasn’t about to go for it. He had Vought’s dick so far up his ass, he wouldn’t likely take a shit without Stan Edgar’s say so. He crouched into a fighting stance and unsheathed his katana. The rest of the guards poured in to flank around him and Mindstorm.

Ben rolled a crack out of his neck.

“Fine. If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you’ll fucking get,” he said.

Noir started charging at him first, but Donna shot off a fireball in his direction.

Chaos ignited from there.

Something’s wrong. You felt it, with so many energies converging high above you. It must’ve meant that you were underground, yet again.

There were still men in the compound itself. You now felt their energies being stuffed out, closer and closer in your direction.

Ben? You wondered. You stood up from your cot in nervous anticipation, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. After Vogelbaum dropped his news, you’d spent the entire night battling your shock, followed shortly by your panic.

No matter what they did to you now, there was no way you were going to let them hurt your child.

Ben…

More than anything, you wanted to see him. You wanted to tell him that his dream was coming true, whether he was ready for it or not…

But there was something coming, and it wasn’t him. You would’ve felt it if it was him. By the rate the men were dying somewhere outside of your cell, however, it was getting closer to your cell. For some reason, you just couldn’t identify the energy signature itself.

You got your answer when your cell door forcibly opened. You gaped in shock.

“Countess?” you said.

She was panting for breath, but she whipped a sweaty lock of red hair out of her eyes and reached out a gloved hand for you.

“Come on, before I change my fucking mind,” she said.

You were still in shock, but you managed to break yourself out of it to follow her out of the cell. You had to stop short though, as an entire unit of Vought security came pouring into the hall with raised guns.

You opened your mouth and began your siren song. Within seconds, every man curled in on themselves as they screamed in pain. Some of them managed to rip their helmets off as they gripped their heads. Tears of blood dripped down from their eyes, and they all soon fell into lifeless heaps.

You stopped singing, and your eyes faded from glowing violet to their normal hue. Donna looked at you, both stunned and wary.

“Don’t worry. It doesn’t work on women. Even frigid cunts like you,” you said with a grin.

She smirked back. “Come on then.”

“Where’s Ben?” you asked, joining her in hastening down the hall.

“Up there fighting,” she replied, pointing up to the ceiling. “You’re about fifteen floors down from the outside world.”

“Fucking figures,” you muttered, but your heart swelled to know that Ben was here, and he was all right. Your hand went to your lower belly on reflex.

“Wait,” you gasped, as something occurred to you. “We need to find someone.”

“What the fuck do you mean? We need to get out of here!” Donna said.

“There’s a kid somewhere in here, and I’m not leaving without him,” you snapped. You began opening doors where you sensed a presence inside. Most often it was a lab technician or other employee, and Donna vaporized them.

You opened one door and found Dr. Vogelbaum. Finally, you saw him react with widening eyes. You felt his fear.

Donna eviscerated him too, in a bloody mess of limbs.

You grimaced at the gore, but you paused, noticing a thick file on the man’s desk.

THE HOMELANDER PROJECTwas stamped at the top in large red letters. You picked your way through the mess and grabbed the file. Then you and Donna continued heading down the hall.

There at the end was a red door. Something about it called to you. You reached out with your awareness, and you felt a familiar male energy, young and scared and alone.

You beckoned Donna over. The door was heavy and locked, but the two of you worked together to twist it open by its large circular handle, like the hatch on a submarine. It swung open with a creak, and inside the room was a bare white cell, not unlike yours.

A young boy sat against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees, wearing a white shirt and plain gray sweatpants. He was blonde and blue-eyed, and he felt familiar to you on-sight.

“John?” you said, stepping inside the cell.

He tilted his head, like he recognized your voice. He said your name uncertainly as he got up to his feet.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you said, approaching him with cautious steps. “I’m getting out of here, but I want you to come with me.”

John looked reluctant, even as he glanced at your outstretched hand.

“Vogelbaum is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore,” you said. “John, please, let me help you.”

After a moment of his indecision, John reached out and carefully grasped your hand. You led him out of the cell, and encouraged him to stay close to you when you and Donna started back towards the elevators.

The three of you rode all the way up to the top level, where the sounds of an epic fight raged behind the doors of the building. Still, it was a familiar balm to your frayed mind to step outside those doors and find a bright sun beating down on a dusty clearing. Beyond it was layers of forest trees.

Donna said that her car was about a mile in that direction, but before you guys could attempt to get to safety, Noir landed right in front of you.

“Irving—” you said in warning.

Donna raised her hands, prepared to blast him into pieces, but John threw the first punch. It landed squarely in Noir’s chest and had him flying several feet away, into a nearby tree. Your mouth fell open in shock as you gave the kid a wide-eyed look.

John smiled up at you, in a—Did I do good?—kind of way.

“Holy shit,” Donna muttered.

You huffed a short laugh and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Good job, bud.”

You shifted your attention to the rest of the battle, and it caught on Ben with a gasp. He was striding toward Mindstorm with his shield held in front of him. He backhanded Mindstorm in the face and quickly got him pinned on the ground.

Charlie was already lying unconscious, trapped in his own mind. Donna went to try and help him, while you started running headfirst toward the other two men.

“Ben!” you shouted out.

He glanced up at you on reflex, but it proved to be an unfortunate distraction, giving Mindstorm the opening he needed to reach out a hand and touch Ben’s forehead. His eyes closed and he collapsed to the ground.

“No!” the ragged yell tore from your throat. You knew full well what Mindstorm was capable of.

You rushed forward and tried to capture Mindstorm with your siren song. It managed to hold him in place, making him grip at his temples with strain. You knew you didn’t totally have him under your spell, however. Not until you knelt down in front of him and grabbed his face with both hands. Your eyes illuminated brighter as you focused all of your power on him.

Mindstorm fought it tooth and nail, but ultimately, the pull of you was too much. He screamed as blood trailed down his face from his eyes, nose, and ears, until his voice faded, and his blue eyes became unseeing. When you released him, he slumped into a heap.

You fell back onto your ass and heaved for breath. All the while, you stared at his unseeing eyes. Part of you felt sick with yourself. The other part felt vindicated, and a little more free.

With a gasp, you remembered Ben. You turned over and crawled over to his body where he laid unconscious in the dirt and dead leaves.

Fuck. You shouldn’t have killed Mindstorm. He was the only one who could’ve brought him out of this.

Unless…

An idea struck you, and you knew you had to try. You shuffled onto your knees and took Ben’s face carefully in your shaking hands. You closed your eyes.

Focusing your powers on his being, you entered his mind. You waded through waves of darkness as they lapped at you, trying to draw you in. But you were a brighter light. You went deeper, layer by layer.

You began to see moving images, like scenes from a reel. You saw his father, berating him. You saw the moment Compound V was injected into his arm, immediately filling his veins with pain. You saw his mother’s funeral, a day marked by falling snow and a stoic set of Ben’s young shoulders.

You saw so many days and nights at the facility where you both were kept, but one in particular struck at your own heart—the day Dr. Eisenstein had you brought you into Ben’s cell and slammed you down on the table in front of him, prepared to inject an unknown experimental serum into your body.

Ben’s face seemed angry on the outside, but this deep inside his mind, you felt his anger, as well as his fear, and his desire to protect you.

You weren’t sure it would work, but you needed to get his attention somehow. You needed to wake him up.

“Ben!” you shouted to him.

To your relief, he actually looked over at you, meeting your gaze with surprise in his own.

Until you were ripped away from him, out of his mind and into the waking world. Your bleary eyes eventually focused on the dark shape above you. On Black Noir.

He hauled you up by your arms and began to drag you across the clearing, away from Ben.

“Stop!” you struggled. Noir ignored you, just tightening his hold.

He dragged you past Donna’s body. She was dying on the ground, with her throat cut and bubbling with blood. Your eyes widened, but you quickly took in the rest of the clearing.

John was trapped under the massive trunk of a fallen tree, struggling to get up. He was being swarmed by Vought security guards.

Just over Noir’s shoulder, you caught sight of Ben. He was starting to wake up, and he turned over and pushed himself up onto one knee. Relief filled your chest.

In a fit of desperation, you dug your heels into the ground. “Let go! Let go of me!”

You opened your mouth and took in a breath to sing, but how quickly Noir’s hand wrapped around your throat, choking the breath right out of you. He tightened his hold, little by little, until you began to feel lightheaded. Panic gripped at your heart.

“Stop, Noir, please! I’m pregnant!” you pleaded, with tears in your eyes.

Beyond him, you met Ben’s gaze. His mouth fell open as he stared at you, after half scrambling to his feet.

You returned your attention to Noir when you realized you could feel his shock, and the tension through your hand on his glove. He glanced over his shoulder at Ben, then back at your tearful eyes. You felt Noir’s disgust, swiftly followed by his anger.

You gasped when he let you go, just so he could unsheathe his weapon. Ben gritted his teeth in anger. Before he could throw his shield, Noir swung his katana down on you.

You instinctively raised up your arms to protect yourself, but the blade only shattered against your skin. You raised your head, blinking in shock. You clenched your fists, and you realized that you felt different, somehow. You were strong.

You shoved Noir hard in the chest, and he flew several feet away, rolling in the dirt as he landed.

Ben ran over to join you. He wrapped his non-shield wielding arm around your waist and pulled you tight against him. You melted into him in relief, resting your head against his chest.

“I don’t know how I did that,” you admitted.

“Looks like knocking you up comes with some added perks,” he said, grinning down at you.

Once you understood what he meant, another wave of shock hit you. The life inside you was not only carrying his genes, but some of his power as well, making you strong.

You looked up at his smug grin and rolled your eyes in amusement, but you also wanted to grab his face and pull him down for a kiss. The look in his eyes told you he wanted to oblige, but you both stopped short, coming to attention when you saw Noir picking himself up from the ground.

“I’ve got him,” Ben said darkly. He let go of you and took a step toward Noir, putting himself in front of you.

Two old enemies faced each other. This time, Ben began to make the first move.

Just then, a pair of red laser beams broke through the clearing and cut through Noir’s mask and skull. He dropped to his knees, and then fell to the ground.

What the hell…

Slowly you turned back to see that John had broken free of the guards. All of them lied either passed out or dead at his feet. He stepped over them and went to your side with shaky hands, shocked at even his own power. Had he known he could do that?

“Are you okay?” he asked you in concern.

You were still reeling, but you nodded and grasped his shoulder. Ben was unsettled looking at John. You knew the look on his face. He wasn’t sure whether the kid was a threat as well. Ben slid an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

“Ben, this is John,” you explained. “He was a ‘guest’ in the lab, same as me.”

Ben seized up the kid. Eventually he rested his shield on the ground and reached out his hand.

“John, huh?”

The kid nodded and shook his hand. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“That’s a strong name,” Ben said. John smiled.

With that small peace won, you slipped away from Ben and went to Charlie. You knelt down and felt for his pulse at his neck. You shook your head in sadness.

“He’s gone,” you said. Ben helped you stand again.

You were disappointed about Donna too, even knowing she was the one who helped sell you out in the first place. You were sure it was probably under duress, but she had saved you today.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Ben said. You agreed, but first, you looked back at the lab.

“They took vials of my blood. God knows what else they have in there,” you said.

“They took your fucking blood?” he said, through furrowed brows.

“Yeah, that’s how I know I’m pregnant,” you said, again, holding a hand to your belly. Ben softened slightly at that.

He blew out a breath and nodded. “Okay, you and the kid hang back. Far back.”

You grasped John’s shoulder and led him over to the dense line of trees. You both hunkered down behind a fallen tree trunk and watched Ben approach the lab.

He set a firm stance and concentrated, until his chest glowed with power. Letting loose a yell of strain, he summoned a blast that destroyed the entire building. It not only created a backlash of debris and flames, but it also shook the earth. He stalked forward and angled the blast downward, so that it would consume the floors below as well.

You had to duck down further as the impact of the blast was too much. John covered you with his arms around your shoulders.

When it was over, Ben struggled to regain his breath. He even stumbled a bit on his way back to you, but he kept a steady pace, until he found you and the kid again. Ben reached a hand for you and once again helped you up from the ground, guiding you into his arms.

His chest still felt hot, but you didn’t care. You curled a hand around the back of his neck and brought him down to you for a kiss. It was relief, it was passion, and it was home.

You parted slowly, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I love you,” you whispered into the small space in between.

Releasing a subtle breath, Ben nodded. You opened your eyes and cupped his cheek.

“You can say it,” you prompted, teasingly. “It’s not gonna kill you.”

You could hazard a guess at what he was thinking. This close, you could feel him, and his reluctance. But his lips hinted at a smile.

“Yeah, I fucking love you,” he said. He thumbed at your chin, his gaze roaming over your face before he met your eyes. “I love you.”

Tears made your vision blur a little. You nodded, smiling, and reached up on your toes for another kiss.

“Are you guys done yet?” John asked. He shifted on his feet, all antsy and tired. “Can we go?”

Ben’s face fell into annoyance at the kid. You gave him a rueful smile, and one last stroke of his cheek.

“The car’s about a mile out,” Ben said.

“Yep,” you said. “I guess we start walking.”

John slept in the backseat of the car while Ben drove down the highway going northeast. His gaze roamed over you as you stared out the window, seemingly calm with that file you stole from Vogelbaum’s office resting on your lap.

With a sigh, you turned your attention to it. Ben couldn’t help but distract you first. His hand reached over to rest on your thigh.

“Hey,” he said. You perked up at him.

“You okay?” he asked. You smiled a little and slipped your hand over his.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Considering.”

He alternated between watching the road and watching you a bit closer.

“Did they hurt you?” he pressed. You shook your head, squeezing his hand.

“No. They pretty much left me alone,” you said, though his concern warmed you. You also sensed something else underneath…the sting of regret. It took him a few beats, but he eventually spoke.

“I shouldn’t have let you go out alone,” he said, briefly meeting your eyes. “I should’ve been there.”

It was as close to an apology as you’d ever gotten from him. You almost smiled.

“Look, we’re here now,” you said. “Pretty soon, this is all just going to be a bad memory we can put behind us, like everything else.”

You rubbed his arm and glanced down at the file sitting on your lap. Your curiosity had you flipping it open. The more you read over its contents, the more your face slackened in shock.

“Oh my God, Ben,” you whispered.

“What?”

“Pull over for a minute.”

“We can’t stop here. We need to get to the airport.”

“This is important. Stop the car.”

He huffed in annoyance, but he pulled the car over. He left the car running and got out along with you.

You later leaned against the passenger side while he read the file. You watched the shock descend over his face as it all began to click together in his mind. He turned and pointed at the backseat of the car.

“He’s…”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Christ on a damn cross,” he said.

“Yeah,” you repeated. You covered your mouth with a hand. “And the poor kid’s been kept in that basement his whole damn life… It was Vogelbaum’s project, but how did he do it?”

A realization fell over Ben. He joined you in leaning against the car. The file fell to his side.

“Back in…’81. No, beginning of ’83, before you joined up. Vogelbaum wanted a sample of my swimmers for an experiment. Something about genetics,” he said. He still remembered the Penthouse Forum he used to give his “sample.”

June. Danielle Deneux. Bush like a Pomeranian. He almost smiled at the memory, but the rest of it soured that part for him.

You gave him an incredulous look. “And you didn’t ask questions about what they were going to use your sperm for?”

Ben rolled his eyes and gave you the file. You shook your head.

“The point is, John is…more or less your son,” you said.

“What?!” John exclaimed. He spooked you and Ben when he popped up in the car window.

You should’ve known he’d have enhanced hearing. Just like his father.

John came out of the car, and both father and son looked at one another in assessing ways. Even though they had different coloring, you started to notice the similar shape of their jawlines, the line of their noses. John soon had tears in his eyes.

“You…you’re my dad?” he said.

Ben’s hands went to his hips. His posture was stiff and awkward.

“I guess I am,” he said.

He didn’t expect the way John literally flew over and hugged him with a strength that impacted Ben. He grunted and grabbed the kid’s shoulders.

“Okay, all right, lock it up. Don’t be a little girl about it.”

John’s face fell with dejection, but he dropped his arms and took a step back. You became both dismayed and angry.

“Ben!” you said sharply. “Let your son hug you, for fuck’s sake.”

He shot you a warning look, but you had your hand on John’s shoulder as you glared back at Ben. He crossed his arms.

Then he uncrossed them with an exasperated huff. He went to John and dropped a hand on his shoulder. Smiling in satisfaction, you moved back to give them a moment.

Ben looked down at the kid’s face. His blonde hair and blue eyes weren’t his. He must’ve taken after his mother, whoever she was, or whatever genetics Vogelbaum manipulated, but he did see his own strong jaw in the kid.

“Well, it’s unfortunate that we couldn’t meet sooner, but…looks like you’re my son,” said Ben. “I'm thinking you want to stick around with us.”

John nodded vigorously.

“All right,” Ben said. “Then let’s get going.”

John nodded again, quickly wiping at his face to clear away his tears.

Good, Ben thought with a quirk of his lips. He squeezed John’s shoulder and let him go, so he could return to the driver’s side of the car. You gave John a warm hug. Ben saw it through the window and almost shook his head. He could already tell that you were going to try to mother that boy.

Somehow, that thought just softened him, at least a little. Because it reminded him that you were carrying his child as well. Not to mention, his blood was making you nice and strong.

When you slid into the passenger seat, he grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss over your knuckles. You smiled at him.

“Where are we gonna go?” John asked.

Ben glanced at him in the rearview mirror. Ben's brows drew together as his expression firmed.

“To finish what we started,” he said.

You knew what that meant. He wanted to go to New York to finish off Stan Edgar, Stillwell, and anyone else who had a hand in their capture.

“Ben, they’ll never stop trying to get him back,” you said, gesturing at John. “And…when Vogelbaum took my blood, he said they wanted to monitor me. Apparently this has never happened before…a supe getting another supe pregnant.”

Ben paused.

“He talked like I was a rat in his lab, and he wanted to document the findings,” you said, as tears welled up in your eyes and made your throat tight with emotion, and the remnants of dread.

Ben frowned and squeezed your hand.

“That’s not fucking happening,” he said. You sighed and wiped at your cheek. After taking a few steadying breaths, you managed to get a hold of yourself.

“If we go back to New York, it’s a big risk,” you said.

This time, Ben actually considered what you were saying. He was stubborn though.

“I can’t just fucking let it go. What Stan Edgar did, what they all did—”

“If you take out Stan, they’ll just put another one in his place. I doubt it’ll ever end,” you said. You moved his hand to your stomach. “But if you want this. If you want a family, this is it.”

Ben glanced down at his hand under yours, and then your face. As much as he wanted the rest of his revenge, he also wanted, and needed to protect you. He couldn’t make another mistake like last time. If you were taken from him again, he’d have no one to blame but himself.

That also posed a harder question. Where the hell could he take you where you’d be safe? Even Arthur had fucked off to Belize.

Ben stroked your hand in contemplation…until an idea came to him.

A grin raised his lips.

“All right,” he said. “How do you feel about Colombia?”

AN: Lol! Suffice to say, there's going to be a big BMD easter egg in the Epilogue, but did you like how the final battle shook out? Was there anything that surprised you? Do you wish some members of Payback had lived?

I went back and forth on how some characters would meet their end, but I felt that this is the story I wanted to tell, with her, Ben, and John escaping together and forming their strange new family. 😂💚

Next Time: The Epilogue...

A phone dock rested on the coffee table. The call was on speaker.

“That child represents a multi-million-dollar investment,” said Stan Edgar.

“You should’ve thought about that before you shipped us off to motherfucking Siberia,” Ben snapped. “Hell, before you decided to steal my goddamn DNA. But guess fucking what. He’s my son. He belongs with me.”

You gave him a look of pride, resting a hand on his thigh in support. He glanced at you and grabbed your hand.

“You’re not leaving me with much recourse here, Soldier Boy,” Stan replied.

Ben leaned forward. He took that as a very real threat.

▶️ Keep Reading: The Epilogue

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sinnersweets · 8 months ago

Text

DogDay x Reader part 14

<-----part 13, part 15----->

A/N: It's here....it's finally here!!

The alarm that I had set off started going off. I snapped awake and shut it off. Rubbing my eyes I sighed and said, “Come on Y/N, time to get moving.” I pulled the blanket off me and went to go change out of my pajamas.

---------------

I pulled up to the factory and sat in my car gripping onto the steering wheel. Was I really going to go into the factory after hours and try to find DogDays contract? And possibly the other contracts of the Smiling Critters? My palms were feeling sweaty. ‘Don’t sike yourself out’ I kept thinking in my head. I shut off my car and made my way inside the factory.

Normally employees couldn’t get in now, but since I’m a helper, I have clearance to get into the building at any time I want. Though I’m only supposed to use this little clearance when I need to give DogDay a bath but that’s beside the point! I scanned my badge and was let inside the building.

Since the cable car made a lot of noise, I decided to take the stairs to Playcare. I wasn’t really in a rush like last time so I would carefully go down the stairs this time. As I made my way down the steps, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being watched. Then again, there was hardly any light in this area so something or someone most likely could be watching me right now. If I get caught, I could just lie and say that I left my phone here or something.

---------------

Thankfully nothing interrupted me going down the eighteen flights of stairs, so I quietly pushed open the door that led into Playcare and looked around. The lights were shut off. Gotta say this place looked a little creepy without lights. I shuffled past the door, being sure to prop it open with a fake rock. I quietly made my way down the hill of tables and chairs carefully avoiding running into them.

Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I could’ve sworn that I saw a shadow move over from the Playhouse. Part of me wanted to check it out but I shook my head and focused on the task at hand.

I made it to the counselor's office and as soon as I was about to open the door, a purple tail wrapped around my ankle. “Uh oh.” Within seconds I was yanked into the air and met with CatNap laying down on the roof of the building. “Hey buddy. Haven't seen you in a while.” I said smiling but also feeling a little scared. CatNap didn’t say anything to me, only tilting his head to the side. “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here, and I have a good reason for that so could you please put me down?” CatNap moved me over next to him and set me down still having his tail wrapped around my ankle.

“Not what I meant with that but okay.” “Friend.” I looked at him expecting him to say something else, but he didn’t. “Not much of a talker huh? That’s okay. Listen, I’m going to tell you something but promise me you won’t tell DogDay okay?” CatNap nodded his head slowly. I then whispered to CatNap, “I’m trying to find a way to get all of you guys out of contract with Playtime. That’s why I’m here.” CatNap just continued to stare at me, not saying anything. Suddenly, the grip that CatNap had on my ankle tightened. I looked at CatNap and his whole presence shifted. “The prototype will save us. Not you.” Huh? Who was the prototype? “Anyone who gets in the way-” CatNap then moved me up into the air and out from the roof. As I was being held upside down, I had a feeling what he was about to do. “Hey hey! We’re friends! Please don’t drop me please!” I whispered to him but was also yelling at him. “-Is a heretic. You are a heretic, friend.”

He loosened his grip on my ankle. When I was falling it seemed to happen in slow motion. My mind was racing. ‘Do something!’ ‘Tuck your head in!’ As I got closer and closer to the ground, I tucked my body close together and hit the ground, rolling down the hill. I protected my head, but the rest of my body was badly sore, and I got the air knocked out of me. I don’t know how I managed to keep quiet through all this. I soon came to the bottom of the hill and unrolled my body.

I laid still for a good few minutes. ‘What do I do now? My whole body is aching.’ I thought to myself. I could hear CatNap jump off the roof and start walking towards me. My body was completely numb. ‘Come on! Get up! Get up now!’ I kept screaming that in my head. I then had the strength to move and got up while groaning. Even though my body was in pain I ran towards the door I came through.

As I ran towards the door I didn’t dare look back behind me. I could just hear CatNap walking towards me so I knew he was chasing me. ‘Almost there! Keep going!’ I then saw that CatNap ran past me and up to the door. I stopped running and looked at him. He shut the door. The only way I could get out was now closed off. I held onto my body as it started aching more. ‘Where can I go?’ I quickly looked around and laid my eyes on the Playhouse. I could hide in there, but I’d have to move quickly.

I took deep breaths before turning on my heels and running towards the Playhouse.

---------------

It’s been three hours since I last saw CatNap. I looked at my phone and saw that it would be another two hours before Playtime opened, and the cable car would be brought down. The whole time has been a game of hide and seek with me and CatNap. I’d find a good place to hide and then he’d let out his red smoke around the area I was in, forcing me to move. I was tired and needed to rest.

When I was running away from CatNap I stumbled into a new area in Playcare that I had never seen. It was a room and along the sides were cells. I could hear breathing, or rather snoring coming from up ahead. I limped over to check out what or who was making that noise. Looking into the cells, I could see the noises came from the Smiling Critters. What were they doing here? Is this where they slept? I immediately noticed that DogDay wasn’t here; but there were two empty cells. I’m guessing one is for DogDay and the other one is for CatNap. I had a lot of questions in that moment, but I heard movement from behind me. I froze, fearing that CatNap had found me. There was nowhere I could go. I was trapped.

I fell to the floor and silently cried. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have done this. This was a stupid idea.’ “Angel?” I shot my head up and turned around and saw that it was DogDay. “Angel what are you doing here?” He looked at me and realized something was wrong with me. “What happened to you?” I tried getting up but once I did, I fell back onto the ground. “Angel?!” DogDay ran over to me and picked me up. “Talk to me Angel, what’s wrong?” “CatNap....I think he’s trying to..kill me.” When I spoke, it hurt. DogDay looked very confused which I understood. I just told him that his best friend is trying to kill me. Before DogDay could say anything else I said, “I tried to leave, but couldn’t. I-” “Shh. Don’t talk. I think I hear him coming.”

---------------

DogDay motioned me to stay quiet as he carried me out of the Playhouse. Thankfully we didn’t run into CatNap; though that could’ve meant he was out wandering outside. Luck was on our side as there was no sign of CatNap anywhere.

DogDay took me into my office and laid me down on his bed. “It’s alright Angel, you’re safe now.” I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. “Now tell me what’s going on.” I didn’t want to tell him like this but might as well rip the band aid off now. “Okay, I’ll tell you. But please...bear with me as it hurts to breathe right now.” DogDay nodded and held onto my hand. “Friday is my last day here. Since I adopted Damian, I can no longer work here...and I didn’t know about that until Stella showed me in the email that I got when I was hired. That being said....I won’t be able to see you anymore...but I didn’t want that to happen so I thought if I could get a hold of your contract...and destroy it or something...you could come with me and Damian...I came here to look for it but CatNap caught me and called me a heretic and then dropped me from the top of this building... I tried leaving but he closed the only exit I had so I ran and hid from him.”

Never before had I seen DogDay look so angry. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before breathing out and opening his eyes. “Angel, I’m sorry that you went through all that. CatNap is not himself at the moment, however that is no excuse for what he has done to you. Rest assured that I will have a talk with him. Onto other things, I already knew that you would be leaving at the end of the week, Ms. Stella told me. She wanted me to look for another helper, but I don’t want to. I want to be with you and Damian out in the real world.”

DogDay got up and went over to my desk and picked up a file and brought it over to me. I reached out, grabbed it and gasped when I looked inside. Inside was his contract along with all the other Smiling Critters. This is just what I needed! “How did you- where did you get these?!” DogDay smiled at me while saying, “I’m not supposed to leave this area but I overheard a couple of staff members talking about contracts and where they were placed so I snuck out and fetched this for you. I know you only needed mine, but I would hate to leave behind my friends.” I looked up to him and smiled and said, “I was thinking the very same thing. It wouldn’t be fair if only you got to experience life outside of here.” DogDay raised an eyebrow and smiled while saying, “What are you getting at Angel?” “I was planning on having everyone here join us. I want to open my own orphanage and have everyone here come along.”

DogDay seemed a little confused from my plan so once I explained it to him, he seemed to be on board! “You really think it’ll work Angel?” “I have no idea, but I have to try.” “I’ll do everything I can in here while you take care of things out there.” I nodded before yawning. “Seems like someone is tired. Might I recommend you get some sleep on the best pillow ever?” I playfully rolled my eyes and said, “I wouldn’t want to sleep without my favorite pillow.”

DogDay then carefully picked me up and laid down on his back before he placed me on his chest. “Comfy?” I nodded yes and closed my eyes, feeling my body relaxed after all this time. DogDay kissed the top of my head and before I fell asleep, I heard him say, “Sleep well, my Angel.”

A/N: Who remembers when DogDay first said that to us? (This part went through so many changes which is why it took so long so post again I'm sorry for the delay but lemme know how this one is :D)

#sinnersweets #x reader #poppy playtime #dogday #dogday x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3 #catnap

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eustasscapitankid · 1 month ago

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Eustass Kid x Reader | GN! Challenge: Kikitober 2024 "Body Worship" Rating: Teen & Up Warnings: None Tags: Soft Kid, Blood, Scars Summary: After the battle is over, you share an intimate moment with your lover as you tend to his wounds. Word Count: 479

Light peaks through worn curtains, casting the dim bathroom in an orange glow. Steam fills the air, colored by the warm light it dances up from the tub. White porcelain, smeared with blood. The silence is heavy, overshadowed only by the steady whooshing of water filling the bath. Stooping to test it’s temperature; satisfied, you gather some in a large bowl, placing it on the floor beside him.

Offering silent reassurance your hand cups his cheek, placing on it a soft kiss before returning to your ritual. A cloth dipped in warm water to wash away excess blood. Your fingers brush against his skin as you work, staining them red. There was once a time when these hands would tremble as you wiped away what evidence you could of your battle. Watching his calloused hands do the same, you had learned to steel yourself, for you knew it painful to see. Now, they remained steady as you washed away the sins of battle from his bruised body. The clear water in the bowl now a searing red.

“Come,” you coaxed softly, rising to turn the silver handle and stop the water. Silence now hung in the air, heavier than the hot mist settling around you. He stood, stepping a foot into the tub, sinking his towering frame into the scalding water. A stool positioned at the end of the bath gave you perfect clearance to move to his hair. The wet maroon strands pooled around his face as you rinsed. Soap foamed into pink bubbles, working gently to massage his scalp. Leaning into your touch, his eyes close as if—for a moment—to block out the rest of the world. As you rinse his hair again, it reveals a lighter shade of red.

Heavy lidded eyes opened to watch you reverently. Discarding your clothes to the floor, a large hand outstretched to you—which you accepted, letting him help you into the tub. Gently settling into his lap, the warm water soothing your weary heart. He stared into you, his gaze a mixture of gratitude and guilt, softening under your touch. Fingers tracing his scars. Gliding over his face and down his neck, trailing down his chest, his stomach. Moving to his arm, before kissing his other shoulder.

“Why are you so good to me?” he murmured, a hint of vulnerability tearing through his voice.

“Because,” you replied softly, mimicking his tone, “you’re worth it.” You spoke without missing a beat, your hands snaking around his neck pulling yourself against his chest, water softly rippling with the movement.

Silence between each other promised everything that words could not express. Eye contact that could pierce the strongest metal, felt soft against your face as you gaze up at him from your muscled pillow.

A moment of softness amidst a world filled with cruelty, two souls promising each other sanctuary.

#img src: One Piece E293 - Bubble Master Kalifa! the Soap Trap Closes in On Nami!#my fic #kikitober2024 #one piece #eustass captain kid #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid x you #eustass kid x gn!reader #eustass kid x amab!reader #eustass kid x afab!reader #Spotify

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maimingaffairs · 1 year ago

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Grieving for the Living (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) Part 1

The entirety of a capricious and treacherous marriage between the Darkling and the Lantsov princess.

part 2 here!

oh look who's writing again!!!! ME! this particular story is going to be about 5-6 parts and most of it is finished. i've had a lot of requests to do an arranged marriage trope and so here she is. normally, i would have just posted the entire thing, but the first half alone was over 30k words and if ur anything like me, that's dangerous for someone with an attention span of a seven year old. but nonetheless, i love u and i miss u and i'm so looking forward to being back. REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN and i implore u to take advantage of that because i would love to busy myself with writing. sending u all hugs and kisses on the cheeks. (apologies in advance for the time ur wasting on this mess)

word count: 10.1k

warnings: nothing serious. drinking, kissing, examples of a not very healthy relationship. minimal swearing i think??

Your wedding dress lay abandoned on the cold floor, along with your jewelry and your veil and your shoes. You sat, chin deep in hot water, eyes fixated on the water in front of you. Footsteps echoed in the room adjacent- your new, shared, room- and each one made you wince. Each one a reminder of the man who the steps belonged to.

Your husband.

Not by choice, of course. He was kind, chivalrous, and ever so polite. He’d looked away when you practically tore your wedding dress off and threw your jewels to the floor. He’d insisted that he wouldn’t touch you, wouldn’t pressure you to consummate the marriage. He’d had a hot bath put together for you as you sat on the floor by his- yours- bed, and he’d helped you to your feet when it was ready. He wasn’t any happier about the marriage than you, but it wasn’t like either of you were in a place to argue.

He was The General of the Second Army of Ravka. You were the Princess of Ravka. Neither of you really had the clearance to be protesting what your father had commanded. Your father insisted that it was a smart pairing, that uniting the Grisha with your family was a major political statement. One that might bring a bit more peace amongst those who sneered at the Grisha. You suspected it also had something to do with the fact that your mother didn’t want to send you off to marry someone who’d whisk you away from Os Alta. You were, after all, the youngest in the Lantsov family. Your mother might just lose her temper if you were to be sent away.

The fact that you were married seemed surreal. You could be married to much worse men than The General, and that was for certain. But nevertheless, you were still full of disappointment. You’d never get to really fall in love, never get to truly be happy. The delusion of eventual happiness was often rude to you, because you knew that despite having an overall good life, you’d never have your own full agency. Not as a royal, and certainly not as a royal woman.

You’d been in the bathroom for nearly an hour now, and the water had begun to slowly go cold. With an exhausted glance at the door, you climbed slowly out of the bathtub and grabbed a large, plush towel that had been sat upon a stool just for you. You wrapped yourself in the towel and stared at the door with a blank frown. Your now-husband’s footsteps had ceased, and instead there was a strange silence that settled in. You brushed it off as best you could and opened up the door that would lead you into your shared bedroom.

The Darkling sat with his back up against the headboard of his bed and he held a book in his hands. His dark eyes flickered up to your face and they stayed there for a moment before he looked back to his book.

“There are night clothes for you, at the end of the bed. They’re still in the process of moving your belongings from the Grand Palace to here.” He explained, not looking back up at you.

You stayed in the doorway to the bathroom and your eyes floated around the entire bedroom for a moment before they settled on the clothes at the end of the bed. You shivered just slightly and pulled your towel tighter around your body.

“You wouldn’t be cold if you put clothes on, your Grace.” His voice was idle, and his eyes were still transfixed on his book. You wondered how he had noticed your shivering, but chalked it up to whatever abilities he had as a Grisha.

Every step you took towards the bed didn’t feel real. The whole night hadn’t felt real. You floated your way through your wedding with a dazed, fake smile painted across your face. The only thing grounding you at most times was the presence of The Darkling’s hand on your back. You grabbed the clothes in one hand and held your towel up with the other and started back towards the bathroom to change before he spoke again.

“I’m not going to look. You may change in here.” He stated, and with an unmoored nod of your head, you dropped your towel to the floor.

His eyes never strayed from his book once as you changed into your nightclothes, and you made sure of that by keeping yours fixed on him. He kept his word and didn’t so much as glance at you through his periphery. You stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed and picked at the stray threads at your sleeves, not sure of what to do now.

Your husband set his book on the side table next to his bedside and he peeled back the covers on the opposite side of the bed and he motioned towards it, “Please, it’s been a rather exhausting day for the both of us, and I think some sleep is in order.” He murmured and looked up at you, “Princess, please. I know this isn’t ideal, but I wish you would speak to me.” He pleaded in a soft tone, and you’d wondered if this man had ever pleaded for anything before in his life.

You slowly made your way towards the empty side of the bed and you climbed onto the mattress next to him, instantly tugging the covers up to your chin as you laid down, keeping distance between your bodies. You looked up at him to find that he was already gazing down upon your face and you felt flushed.

“I just want this to be as easy as possible for the both of us, Princess. We don’t have to be lovers, not really. But we can at the very least be friends.” He remarked kindly.

“I know.” You answered, finding your voice.

A very small smile made his full lips turn upwards, and a thin lock of hair fell over his forehead as he looked down at you.

“Go to sleep, Princess.”

You gave him a nod and closed your eyes, listening to him shuffle around a bit and blow out the candle at his bedside. Tears pooled in your closed eyes and you curled yourself into a ball, pulling the covers up over your head while little tears snuck their way out of the corners of your eyes. You didn’t know him, you didn’t even know his name. Misery weighed heavily on your chest and you wrapped your arms around yourself tightly, thinking that it was likely the only comforting embrace you’d ever feel.

Likely ever again.

Your husband’s kindness seemed to wear off as quickly as it had materialized. He was still polite and chivalrous, but you were certain it was because it was only standard to treat you like… well… royalty. He was gone often, so it didn’t bother you, not that much, at least. It had been nearly four months into your marriage, and this was the third time he’d been gone. His absence gave you a bit of relief, truth be told. You had his vast quarters to yourself and could do really anything you wanted, whether that was snooping around in his room or laying in bed all day reading.

Today happened to be a day where you had opted to stay in bed and read one of the many books you’d brought over from the Grand Palace. You hadn’t bothered to change into anything other than your bedclothes, and you sat on your side of the bed, legs tucked neatly underneath the covers. The doors to your shared quarters flew open loudly and a small handful of Grisha all filed into the room. Among the group was a red haired girl who you recognized as Genya. You knew her from the extensive time she spent with your mother, but the two of you didn’t speak often. She looked at you with an apologetic smile and you stared confusedly back at her.

“What’s going on here?” You asked and slowly set your book on your husband’s side of the bed.

Genya bowed her head respectfully and she walked towards the edge of your bed, “The Darkling is home. He’s brought the Sun Summoner with him. I’ve been sent by your mother to have you readied and sent into the Grand Palace immediately. The rest of them are here to tidy up the room.” She explained.

A small bit of disappointment swirled in your chest at the arrival of your husband and you carefully climbed out of the bed and nodded stiffly, “Okay.”

Genya led you into the bathroom as you peered over your shoulder at the Grisha that immediately had begun cleaning the near-spotless room. Once inside the bathroom, she shut the door behind you two and she sat you down on a little bench.

“Nothing fancy, please. This is not a… celebratory occasion.” You requested, and you saw the Tailor give you a little nod in your peripheral vision.

She didn’t spend long on getting you ready, in fact, she simply pulled your hair back with a soft black ribbon and put a bit of cream on your face for whatever reason. She left the room and came back with a long, black dress, holding it up to you as if you’d somehow been given a say in the dress you were to wear.

“I hate it.” You responded flatly, looking at the silver embroidery on the bodice of the dress, “I know I have something… colorful in that wardrobe. I cannot stand black.” You said, your tone borderline snotty.

Genya glanced at the dress and then back up at you and sighed, “It’s customary for you to wear his color-“ she began but you held your hand up to silence the girl.

“Customary? No. He’s ordered it, so it shall be. Is that it?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest.

She gave you a look of sympathy and held the dress out for you to take, not speaking, intentionally not verbally confirming your statement.

You scoffed and took the dress from her, “I’m getting real sick of men telling me what I should do. What events to attend, who to marry, where to be, how to speak!” You tossed the dress aside as if it were a venomous snake, “What to wear! What color I must present myself in! Who to meet!” You continued, your voice raising with each word.

You hadn’t even noticed the door had been opened until you heard someone clear their throat from the doorway. You and Genya spun around to see your husband standing by the door with the dress just a few feet from his boots. His face was unreadable, but his fist was clenched tightly at his side.

“Genya, I think I can take it from here. I apologize for my wife’s outburst. I’m sure she will never do it again.” He spoke, never looking at the Tailor once, instead, his eyes bore into yours.

You stared back into his eyes challengingly and waited for Genya to leave the room. Once she had skirted out, The Darkling closed the door loudly behind her. He bent down slowly and picked up the discarded dress and walked towards you. You backed up until the backs of your knees hit the bathtub and you could no longer go anywhere else. He stood only a foot away from you and he draped the dress over the edge of the claw-footed tub and he grabbed your waist with a surprising gentleness, turning you around.

“Take off the nightgown.” He commanded. You stared at the wall in front of you, but didn’t speak. You didn’t even move.

When you made no move to undress yourself, your husband reached down and grabbed the hem of your nightgown and began to pull it upwards.

You slapped his hands away and gasped, “Do not touch me! You swore you’d not lay a finger on me!” You shrieked. You spun around to see him leaning over you, his face showing mild irritation.

“Undress yourself. Now, y/n.”

He hardly ever used your name, and now that he had, you felt a bit nervous. He spoke calmly, eerily so. Your hands shook as you reached down and pulled the nightgown off, crossing your arms over your chest instantly afterwards to cover yourself. But he didn’t seem to be looking at your body. His dark eyes were fixed sternly on your face. He pointed at the dress by your side on the edge of the bathtub and you grabbed it. Slowly, you straightened it out and stepped into it, hands still shaking. Once you had pulled it up and slid your arms into the long sleeves, he grabbed your waist and turned you around again. He grabbed the laces of your dress and began to tie them with sharp, precise movements.

“There will not be another outburst like that, do you understand me?” He asked and gave the laces a hard tug, pulling you back a bit.

You were now so close to him that you could feel the heat radiating off of his body and you swallowed nervously before giving him a nod.

He finished lacing up your dress and he gently turned you towards him, looking down at you. He looked down at the dress and then back up at your face. He pointed at a pair of black boots on the floor and you silently slipped them on and bent down to tie them. Once you had, you straightened back up, and he offered you his arm. You stared at it for a moment before finally taking it and you frowned, tears springing to your eyes.

One trickled down your cheek and you looked down at the floor, sniffling. He brought a hand up to your chin and he gently lifted your head back up before he reached up and carefully wiped your tear away with his thumb.

“Princess, I have only requested you wear black this afternoon so that we look like we stand united. We need to look like we have a strong partnership. Your parents have begun asking about children.” He murmured and led you out of the bathroom slowly.

You didn’t respond, waiting for him to go on.

“I have told them we are doing the best that we can. Your father seems content with that answer. Your mother doesn’t. We need to appear to be much more… in love… than we are.” He explained. You shuddered at the thought of being with child.

The two of you walked out of your shared room and you let out a sigh, “Genya told me you have brought company. The Sun Summoner.”

He gave you a little nod and looked down at you, “Yes. And we must appear united to her, too. She needs to trust me. Trust the Grisha. How is she to trust me if my own wife doesn’t?” He asked and then gave you an accusatory look.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just don’t want this.” You managed to say.

He gave you a pitiful smile and then shook his head, “Neither of us want this. But this is our reality. The sooner you accept it, the sooner it will be more comfortable.”

You searched his face for a very long moment and then you shifted your eyes away from his face, “I will never be comfortable in a reality where I have no say.” You stated, challengingly.

“Princess, with all due respect,” he began, leading you down the hallway, “you didn’t have a say to begin with.” He finished, sounding amused.

You scoffed, appalled by his boldness, “I’m allowed to be frustrated. I’m trapped in a loveless marriage!”

He shushed you sharply and looked down at you, giving you a scolding look, “What am I to do about these horrible outbursts you’ve been having?” He asked, his tone low.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer him. You just continued walking alongside him.

You passed a couple of Grisha girls in the hallway, and one of them gave The Darkling a particularly fond smile, wiggling her fingers in what was sure to be a seductive wave. You narrowed your eyes and tugged him along, past the others and towards the Grand Palace determinedly. Your husband stopped you from walking just a second later and he sighed, shaking his head almost dejectedly.

“We need to escort Alina to the Grand Palace.” He explained. You raised an eyebrow.

“Alina?” You asked, pulling your arm away from his and placing your hands on your hips, “Is she your mistress?” You demanded, stamping your foot down against the marble floors. The Darkling rolled his eyes at your insolence and if you hadn’t felt so angry, you might have also rolled your eyes at your behavior.

“Alina is the Sun Summoner.” He answered plainly and then leaned down towards your face. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, and it seemed absurd. He’d never made any advances on you, he’d not even tried to befriend you, really. He kept going until his lips brushed the shell of your ear and he chuckled into it, “I wouldn’t take you to meet my mistress. Your sour attitude might spoil the fun I have with her.” He whispered smugly and then pulled away from your ear.

You stared up at him, wide eyed. Not only did he just insult you, but he’d just admitted to adultery. Your upper lip twitched and you brought your hand up involuntarily, bringing your palm up to his cheek quickly. The slap you left upon his face echoed in the empty hallway and you grit your teeth. He clearly didn’t expect it, because his head was turned to the side and his eyes were closed. Slowly he turned his head back to face you and his jaw was set angrily. His eyes were burning holes into your own, and if you were smart, you would’ve stopped there.

“Not only am I your wife but I am the Princess of Ravka. I outrank you by many people. Forget not who you speak to.” You hissed, trying to muster up the most bravery you’d ever tried to conjure before in your life, “You will respect me the way a subject should respect their Princess, but you will also respect me the way a husband should respect a wife. In love or not.” You snapped, feeling your bravery wane as he towered over you. Had he always been that tall?

You prepared yourself for his wrath. You’d never experienced it, but you’d heard rumors. He was formidable. There was a reason he led the Second Army, and you assumed it wasn’t posterity alone. But his wrath never came. Instead, a gentle hand took your chin and tipped your head upwards. He gave you a soft smile and you briefly thought he was going to apologize, to say it was a terrible joke and that he didn’t mean what he’d said. But he didn’t, not even close.

“Oh, sweet y/n. My darling wife. You may be the Princess, and for that you have my respect, but as my wife? You have none of it. Let me make that clear; I would fuck countless women- and men- before I even considered laying a finger on you. You could be the last girl in the world, and I still wouldn’t touch you.” He pulled away and offered his arm to you again, giving you a sweet smile.

You didn’t love him. In fact, you were quite sure now that you hated him. So why did his words sting so badly? You rapidly tried to blink away the tears that rushed to your eyes, and you stumbled back a bit. Footsteps echoed through the hall, but they sounded like they were underwater, and you could faintly hear someone call out for your husband. You went to lean your back up against the wall, but just as soon as you moved backwards, his hands came to your waist and he pulled you against his chest in what appeared to be a tender embrace.

He was petting your hair and shushing you, and you were too stunned to pull yourself away. Your forehead rested against his warm kefta and you sniffled loudly, catching a faint smell of leather and something sweet, something woodsy. Him. It’s what his sheets smelled like and what his room smelled like. The scent made your head hurt and you went to pull away, but his arms locked you in place.

“General, I- what’s going on?” A voice asked.

Yeah, General, you thought, what’s going on?

“Alina, this is my wife.” He answered smoothly, and it was almost amazing to you how he said “wife” so affectionately.

His arms loosened around your body and you slowly pulled away from him, keeping your head down as to hide your tear stained eyes and cheeks. You looked at the floor sadly, at your boots, his boots, and this Alina girl’s boots.

“Oh! Your Grace!” Alina breathed, curtsying to you respectfully.

You lifted your head and gave her a weak smile, “You must be the Sun Summoner.” You croaked, wanting to disappear into thin air.

“You must excuse her state, Miss Starkov,” your husband interjected, “it’s just that we’re both a bit disappointed right now.” He said coolly, “We’ve been trying for a child since our wedding night, and,” he paused and reached for your hand. You felt sick when he grabbed it and held it tightly in his own, as if he were soothing you, “well, we’ve had no luck.” he finished, giving your hand a little squeeze.

“My apologies, General- and Princess.” She said quietly and you gave her another small smile but didn’t speak.

“We must be going, Miss Starkov. You need to meet the rest of the royal family.“ he urged and pulled you against his side, “Come, follow us.”

The week following the arrival of Alina Starkov was grey. The clouds hung ominously in the sky, and every so often, it would rain just a little bit. You’d spent most of your time sitting by the window in your husband’s room, silent. He’d spend much of his time away from you, and you were grateful for that. The only time you saw him in the past seven days had been only when the two of you went to bed. So it was odd when the doors to the room were opened and you could hear his familiar footsteps on the floor. You didn’t turn around to greet him, but eventually you could sense him standing right behind you. You sat on the window seat wrapped in a thick, black blanket, and you very slowly turned your head around to face him. He was already looking down at you. His beard had been freshly trimmed and shaped, you noted, and his dark eyes shone in the grey light that seeped through the clouds. He let out a long sigh.

“I owe you an apology.” He remarked.

You looked the man up and down and then shrugged, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. You hadn’t uttered a word to him since the day you met Alina, and perhaps that was driving him insane. You couldn’t be sure, though. He was always so calm and collected, never letting a single emotion slip through the cracks of his steely armor. He slowly sank to his knees beside you and he was now level with your face, his eyes meeting yours.

“Prin- y/n…” he corrected himself and then pursed his lips for a silent moment. Finally, he let a breath out through his nose, “y/n, the way I spoke to you was out of line. You are correct when you say I ought to respect you, not only as my wife, but as the Princess of the country I swear allegiance to.”

You eyed him warily and leaned your head back against the wall, a little frown forming on your lips. You weren’t overly sure how to react to his apology. You weren’t even sure of why he was apologizing. You gave him another little shrug and he cocked his head slightly to the side.

“I know all too well that this marriage wasn’t wanted by either of us. We are having a hard time… adjusting. That’s to be expected. If we cannot be lovers, we should at least be able to be friends. We have a long life ahead of us.” He explained.

You listened to what he said and blinked a few times. You sniffed once to fill the silence and then you shook your head, “I don’t know how to be friends with you, Sir.” You replied after a while, looking back out the window.

“Okay, perhaps not friends, but we need amicability to survive this.” He spoke, and the soft tone of his voice drew your attention back to him.

You hated to admit how beautiful he was, how enticing he was. You’d heard many people in the Grand Palace and the Little Palace alike whisper about how they’d wanted him, but no one would ever make a move. For one, he was married to the princess, and if that wasn’t enough, usually his intimidating demeanor deterred anyone brave enough to ignore you. You searched his face for any trace of emotion, or even deception, but you found none.

“I don’t forgive you. But I agree with what you’ve said, and I appreciate your apology.” You said finally, tracing your finger against the inside of the blanket you held. You looked into his eyes and he gave you a very small smile.

“I’m going riding with Miss Starkov. I will be back for dinner. I’ll have the servants draw you a hot bath.” He said, rising to his feet.

You watched him stand and you nodded once, “Okay. Thank you.” You murmured and turned to look back out the window again.

It had begun to rain.

“I heard it was rather romantic!”

“Well, that’s what I heard too, but how romantic could it be?”

“There’s something romantic about sneaking into his war room… especially when his wife is asleep just a room away.”

“That’s just plain dangerous, don’t you know the Princess could have her head?”

Your fingers trembled as you held your teacup, eyes fixed pointedly on your husband’s face as he sipped his own tea and seemed to look everywhere but you. The voices from two Grisha a table over were completely audible to your ears and you slammed your teacup down on the table. This seemed to grab The Darkling’s attention and he narrowed his eyes a bit before he shook his head.

“What are you doing?” He asked quietly and reached across the table to gently hold your wrist.

“I’ve had it with your gossiping Grisha. I’ve heard the same stories all week. Every time I come to have tea or a meal, it’s all anyone can talk about.” You said critically.

You were referring to six days prior. Alina had wandered into your husband’s war room, a room adjacent to your shared bedroom. You weren’t, in fact, asleep. You’d been up reading while you waited on sleep to come to you, but to no avail. The Darkling often spent most of his night in the war room at his war table or his desk, going over plans, strategies, and whatever else he deemed important. Apparently she couldn’t sleep, and according to every rumor you’d heard, the two had shared a particularly intimate moment. Whether it was true or not, you’d never know. The man was evasive whenever you asked him about it. Whatever happened, the gossip was running rampant around the Little Palace and likely the Grand Palace now. You’d wondered if your parents had heard. The thought made you recoil.

“My dear, it’s silly gossip.” He insisted and you slowly rose from the table and gave him an overly sweet smile, a smile without a trace of sincerity behind it.

“Will it be silly when I tell my father of its truth?” You asked, batting your lashes at him innocently.

His mouth twitched and you could see that you’d angered him slightly. You’d been getting rather good at that of late.

“Y/n.” The Darkling warned and slowly stood up from the table as well, walking towards you. His hand found its way to your back and he promptly led you out of the dining hall. You only followed without protest because you didn’t want to give anyone more reasons to gossip about your clearly loveless marriage.

There was enough of that already.

You followed him into the hallway and all the way across the Little Palace, and finally back into his quarters. He closed the door behind him and he gave you a look up and down before you turned on your heel and went to sit on a chair in the corner of the room.

“What happened to having a united appearance?” You asked in a bored tone, crossing your legs stiffly as you looked up at him. He stayed by the doors and thought for a while before sighing.

“Would it really bother you so much if I had shared such a moment with Alina?” He asked and took a step towards you.

You scoffed, “Please. I couldn’t care less who you have affections for. Alas, as you said, I could be the last girl alive and you wouldn’t touch me. But keep your affairs private.” You snapped, but the words were bitter in your mouth.

He stared at you for a long while and then he chuckled and shook his head, leaning up against his war table. He seemed amused. He didn’t seem to be taking you seriously, and this made you angry. You stood up from the chair and stomped over to him, standing less than a foot away from the much taller man.

You jabbed your finger against the center of his chest, “I mean it. You will not drag my name down with you just because you are aching to have some girl warm your bed! I am the Princess, I will be respected as such! You will not stand-“

His cold, rough hands flew to your cheeks and he roughly pulled you forward as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You didn’t know how to react at first, so you stood there, shocked. Then came panic. You’d only ever been kissed once before, and it had been nothing like this. A peck on the lips from a suitor, a goodbye kiss. This was different. Your husband’s mouth was soft and warm, and the kiss was intense. You tentatively returned his kiss with clumsy, inexperienced lips, and finally he pulled away, dropping his hands away from your face. Your cheeks felt hot and you stared up at him confusedly, trying to make sense of whatever had just happened.

Your husband stared back at you, almost as if he were surprised that he’d done that, too.

“You’ve never been kissed before.” He commented, and your cheeks heated up even more.

Was it that obvious? You looked away and then sniffed.

“Not like that.” You remarked, suddenly becoming hyper aware of your heart, which was beating faster than normal in your chest. Could he hear that? Surely not. But weren’t there Grisha that could? Was he one of them? Why did he kiss you? You bombarded yourself with questions and placed a hand on your temple.

“Don’t overthink it, Princess.” His voice rang out through the noise in your head and you blinked up at him.

His expression was unreadable and you slowly backed away from the Darkling. He looked so put together, so immaculate. His face was cool and his posture was perfect, not a hair was out of place on his head. You on the other hand? You were sure your cheeks were as hot as the fireplace burning in the corner of the room, and your hair felt disheveled. You wanted to slap him across the face for kissing you, and you wanted to ask him why. You doubted you’d ever get an answer, though. Months had gone by since your union, and he’d not so much as held your hand or told you that you looked beautiful. So this kiss? It was currently making your head hurt.

Were you even attracted to the man? You wondered. He was breathtaking, you didn’t need to like him to admit that.

A hand wrapped itself around your arm and you recognized it as his. You looked up at him, surprised as he carefully pulled you back towards him.

“Hey, I told you not to overthink it. Go get ready for dinner. We will be dining with your parents.” He instructed.

You nodded dumbly and moved away from him, far enough and fast enough this time so that he couldn’t pull you back and you quickly walked into your bedroom, mind still racing.

“We hardly see you anymore, have you gotten any of the dresses I’ve sent for you, darling?” Your mother’s voice rang out across the dining table, and you looked up from your third glass of wine and gave her a smile.

“Mhm, thank you, Mother.” You replied, swirling the wine in your glass before you finished it.

Your mind had been reeling for the past three hours, replaying the kiss you and your husband had shared. It was strange to think about. You didn’t think he was even slightly attracted to you. Maybe he was just… desperate? No, that couldn’t be it, surely. He could get anyone he wanted, it wasn’t like you were all that there was. And didn’t he swear that even if you were the last person alive that he wouldn’t want you that way? You blinked a few times and reached out for the crystal decanter full of wine and you poured yourself another glass, your head feeling nice and empty.

A hand clasped your forearm gently and you looked up to see your husband staring down at you.

“My love, are you listening?” He asked and eyed you, almost concernedly.

You looked at him for a moment longer before you looked around the table to see your mother, your father, and your brother staring at you.

“What? What was said?” You asked, not recalling hearing anyone speak.

“Darling, girl. Your mother asked you a question.” The General said with a soft, amused laugh.

You eyed him for a moment through narrowed eyes and then you looked at your mother. Your cheeks felt warm and you began to feel very light. You let out a pleasant sounding sigh and then smiled at your mother.

“Sorry, what did you ask, Mother?” You asked, your tongue feeling a bit too big for your mouth.

“I asked if you have gotten the chance to wear that pretty purple gown I had made for you.” She said, her thin eyebrow arching slightly.

You thought for a moment, bringing your hand up to your forehead, “Purple gown?” You echoed, trying to picture it. You tried your hardest to picture the dress she spoke of, but your mind began to wander again. Back to the kiss.

You turned your eyes away from your mother and now looked at your husband. He was looking across the table at your mother as well, his big, brown eyes fixed on the woman politely. His chiseled jaw moved and you realized he was speaking, but you couldn’t be bothered to listen. His voice seemed far away, anyhow. His prominent nose and strong cheekbones were highlighted in the evening light, making his side profile appear even more impressive than usual. You sighed quietly when your gaze traveled to his lips and stayed there, unwavering.

Slowly, he turned his head towards you and gave you a very soft smile.

“My love, you are drunk.” He spoke. You opened your mouth to protest, but giggled instead.

“I think we should’ve taken her drink away after the first glass.” Vasily grumbled from across the table.

This made you scowl and you turned to your brother with an annoyed glower, “Oh, shut up, Vasily. You drink the town dry whenever you’re able.” You retorted, folding your arms over your chest defiantly.

“Don’t you two start-“ your father began, but Vasily stood up from the table abruptly.

“You are the Princess of Ravka. You will act like it. That means you present yourself well at all times- even around just your family.” He said haughtily.

You and your brother seldom got along. Perhaps it was because he had much more traditional beliefs about gender roles and had a strong lean towards a patriarchal dynamic in the palace, or maybe it was because you had bonded with your half brother, Nikolai, much better than he and Vasily had bonded.

You opened your mouth to argue back at him, but a strong hand grabbed your shoulder and you looked up to see that your husband now stood over you. He held your shoulder gently and he gave your parents both an apologetic smile.

“Your majesties, I think I’m going to take our lovely princess back to the Little Palace. Don’t judge her too harshly, please. We have both been struggling with… our lack of child.” He explained with a voice as soft as velvet.

Silver tongued bastard.

Your mother placed a sympathetic hand over her chest and she nodded once, a sad look covering her face, “Oh, we pray to the Saints every night that you two will find luck. I know how hard it’s been for you two.” She said sadly, looking over to your father who was now nodding along with her.

You tried to stand up from the chair, but the black silk of your gown caught underneath your shoe, and you stumbled a bit. Your husband easily caught you, and in one fluid motion, he lifted you up into his arms. You threw your arms around his neck and laid your head on his shoulder. He smelled just as you had remembered from weeks ago, only now it seemed more inviting.

You heard him bid your family goodbye and then you felt his body move slightly with each graceful step he took. Once both of you were out of earshot of anyone else, you heard your husband sigh softly through his nose. You looked up at him from where your head laid on his shoulder.

“I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you… intoxicated.” He remarked, his tone even, “You drinking for any particular reason, Princess?” He asked.

You stared at his hair and reached up to twirl the ends of it around your fingertip, “Just having some wine, that okay with you, husband?” You asked with a mirthful giggle, giving his hair a gentle tug.

You watched the corner of his lip tugged upwards in a smile and he glanced down at you, “You about gave your brother a seizure.” He remarked and then pushed open the doors to the courtyard with his foot.

The cool evening air made your warm cheeks feel nice and you closed your eyes, your fingers still absentmindedly twisting about in your husband’s hair, “He is… a handful.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve watched him grow up.” He remarked and you furrowed your eyebrows.

His words confused you for a moment but then you recalled that he didn’t really age. Not like you, anyway. Grisha perk, you guessed.

“So that means you’ve watched me do the same, I guess.” You hummed, trying to think back to your earliest memory of The Darkling.

“Yes and no.” He replied, “In the years following you and Vasily being born, I was often away on business. And besides, you two were often in lessons or doing whatever it is royal children do. I can recall seeing you in the flesh maybe four times before you turned sixteen.” He explained.

You thought for a moment and then you let out a sigh, your hand falling away from his hair, “That’s… weird.” You murmured, trying to wrap your head around it, “So you’re like… old? How old? Like, fifty?” You asked, growing more curious.

“No, not fifty, darling. One hundred twenty.” He replied idly and then he chuckled, “Serving for your family has been in my family for quite some time.” His tone was amused and you lifted your head away from his shoulder.

“Was it weird when we got married then?” You asked and blinked slowly, your eyes adjusting to the dim light outside.

He thought for a moment and then he shook his head, “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say it was ‘weird’. Your father initially wanted to marry you off to one of Ketterdam’s richest politicians. But your poor mother wept whenever he’d bring it up. I mean, at this point you were an adult. It was time in their eyes for you to be married off. Eventually your parents offered me your hand and I figured that it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. I mean, you’d still be home, after all, and at least I can ensure that you aren’t… made to be a traditional wife.” He explained, looking down at your face.

“Traditional wife..?” You asked confusedly.

“Princess, you have lived a rather luxurious life. Both your mother and your father have gone very easy on you. But I’ve seen past princesses married off to be bred like dogs and that’s all.” He had your attention now, and you looked into his eyes while he spoke, “I think that you have grown up to be an exceptionally intelligent and remarkable girl, that needn’t be wasted on some pig from Ketterdam who wants your children for status.” He said firmly, his eyes never leaving yours.

He walked up the steps to the front doors of the Little Palace and two guards opened the doors for you two. He stepped inside and you took a moment to process his words. It was without a doubt, the nicest thing he’d ever said to you. You stayed silent in thought the whole way back to your shared bedroom, and before you knew it, you were being gently placed on the edge of the bed. Your husband knelt before you and was busying himself with getting your boots unlaced, his eyes focused on the task at hand. Your mind swirled with his words and you could almost hear him in your mind, telling you not to overthink it.

Too late for that.

“If you think I’m so intelligent and remarkable, why do you hate me?” You whispered, looking down at him. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth anxiously and awaited his answer.

For a while, you wondered if he had even heard you, because he didn’t speak. Instead, he simply pulled your boots off and reached underneath your dress chastely to pull your tights off. He looked up at you after he had freed your legs from their stocking smothered prison, straightening up a bit. Even though you were sitting on your bed and he was on his knees before you, he was almost level with your face, and you found yourself only having to shift your head downwards slightly.

“I don’t hate you, y/n.” He replied slowly, his hands coming to rest on your dress over your calves.

“You certainly could have fooled me.” You said slowly, your head spinning. You chalked it up to the wine.

He took his time responding again, and when he did, you had almost forgotten what you two had been speaking about.

“Sweetheart, you’ve had much to drink tonight. I don’t think we need to be getting into these conversations while you are drunk.” He replied softly and then he stood up.

He left the room promptly and you felt your eyes well up with tears. You did not want to cry, especially over him, but it also felt like you two were having some sort of breakthrough tonight. Just as the first tear fell, he entered the room again, and he walked towards you determinedly. When he saw the tear rolling down your cheek, he reached down and wiped it away with his thumb. You looked up into his dark, endless eyes and you frowned.

“Why did you kiss me?” You asked, finally having the courage to speak about the thing that had been giving you not a moment’s peace all evening.

He grabbed your hands gently and pulled you off of the bed and turned you around. He began to unlace your dress with skilled fingers and you were suddenly very self conscious, “I kissed you because I saw no other way to quiet your outburst.” He replied coolly, fingers still moving quickly to unlace your dress, “I’m having a bath drawn for you. Let’s just get you out of these clothes, yeah?” He asked softly.

At first, you felt a bit disappointed when he told you that the kiss was only a means to quiet you, but then you were confused as to why you were even disappointed in the first place.

Your husband pulled your dress down your body and you shivered slightly as his fingers brushed your shoulder blades. Instantly, you were covered by something cold to the touch and you looked down to see your husband had draped a silk robe over your body. You slipped your arms into it and he helped you step out of your dress before you quickly tied the robe closed with clumsy, drunk fingers. You puffed your cheeks out and turned around, expecting The Darkling to be across the room, but instead, he was right in front of you, just inches away.

“Woah.” You murmured, taken aback by his close proximity. You stumbled back just slightly, but your husband had reflexes like you’d never seen. He caught you by your arms and steadied you, looking down into your eyes.

You gazed up into his eyes and you tried to stay focused on his stare, but your eyes strayed to his lips. You flickered your gaze between his lips and his eyes for a moment before you stood on your tiptoes and leaned forward, intent on kissing him again.

You hardly moved forward, and were confused as to why, until you realized he was holding you back. You looked up at him with a pathetic frown and you stuck your bottom lip out.

“Do I need to have another outburst for you to let it happen again?” You asked, the words leaving your mouth before you had a chance to even think them over.

“You are drunk, y/n. I’m not going to let that happen.” He said sternly.

You felt your cheeks heat up, you felt… rejected. The feeling left a sour taste in your mouth and you looked down, avoiding his stare. You wished things could go back to the way they had been just hours ago, before he had kissed you. You wished that he’d yell at you or insult you again, anything other than reject you. You wished he’d let go of you and let you run across the courtyard and back into your old bedroom, where he ceased to exist as your husband, where the kiss never happened, where you were unwed and happily reading alone.

A tap on the doorframe pulled you out of your head and you both looked at the servant who stood there.

“The bath is warm and ready whenever she is, Sir.”

He nodded once and turned to you with a weak smile, “Go. Get in the bath. Call for me if you need help.” He said softly, sending you on your way.

You haphazardly made your way to the bathroom and dropped your robe. You closed the door hurriedly and then stepped into the hot bath. Although the water was slightly too hot for your liking, you still sunk down into it, arms wrapped around yourself tightly.

You thought that maybe the hot water would scald the thoughts of The Darkling right out of your head.

You were disappointed to find that it did no such thing.

Your husband had been avoiding you.

If he wasn’t, he was doing a very poor job being around, and if he was, then he was succeeding with flying colors. He’d been so keen on not being around you ever since the night of having dinner with your parents.

That was nearly five days ago now.

Now you sat alone in a room full of other Grisha, picking uncomfortably at your lunch. Under any normal circumstance, your husband would at the very least eat with you, but he didn’t seem to be interested in keeping up appearances with you anymore. You shifted awkwardly in your chair and set your spoon down, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on you. You stared off into your bowl of soup for a while, wondering when it was socially acceptable to stand up and abandon your untouched lunch. You had only just decided that you were going to leave when the doors to the dining hall opened up. You didn’t even have time to stand before your husband walked inside.

But he wasn’t alone.

Alina Starkov was politely clutching his arm and he was ushering her inside. You pressed your lips together, feeling even more gazes settle upon you than before. Abruptly, you stood up from your table and met your husband’s eyes with a challenging stare. When he looked at you, so did Alina. She almost for a fleeting second looked guilty, but then her gaze turned pitiful and at the same time almost… prideful.

You sniffed once and stood completely still as the pair began to approach you. You ran your tongue along the backs of your teeth as the two grew closer and closer, and you willed yourself not to have what your husband would call “an outburst.”

Once they were a mere three feet away from you, you watched your husband’s face melt into a sickeningly sweet smile and he held his hand out for you.

“My love, I was thinking-“

“Your Grace.” You corrected sharply. Every voice in the room stopped all at once and now you were sure every single eye was on you.

“Pardon me?” Your husband asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You will call me ‘Your Grace’. I am the princess. You will give me the respect of formalities.” You chided, feeling an unbridled sense of anger warm your veins.

He looked taken aback, and he stood there silently, waiting for whatever else you had to say. But you were done. You pushed your chair in and you looked Alina up and down once before you shouldered past your husband, making a beeline directly out of the dining hall.

You marched with intent back into your shared bedroom and you made quick work of pulling all of your clothes out of the sleek black armoire that had been dedicated to your numerous dresses. With a look of disgust, you left each black piece hanging in the armoire and tossed the rest onto the bed. You made a large pile of your clothes and blankets and you gathered them all into your arms, albeit struggling to get a hold of the clothes.

You were ready to get out of the Little Palace. You formulated a plan as you hobbled across the room to the door, holding the pile of gowns in your arms. You’d go back to the Grand Palace and you’d beg and beg, and even cry if you had to, to your parents to get you out of this marriage and let you marry someone- anyone- else. Perhaps you’d tell them he was cruel, or perhaps you’d say you’d never bear a child because the Grisha can’t procreate. You huffed angrily as you kicked your bedroom door open, and you shuffled out of the room, not able to see over the mountain of dresses in your arms. You were your parents’ favorite, after all. Surely they’d make this allowance for you just this once.

You hadn’t even made it halfway down the hallway before you bumped into someone. You let out a small sigh and craned your neck around the clothes. You caught a glimpse of a black Kefta around your dresses and you shook your head, trying to go around him. He stepped in front of you again, blocking you from walking away.

“I am not doing this with you.” You deadpanned, “So get out of my way and let me go. The sooner we can get this… arrangement ended, the sooner you and I can just live our own lives, General.”

But he didn’t respond. Instead he sidestepped you and grabbed your shoulders in a steel-like grip and steered you against your will back to the bedroom. You dropped your dresses to the floor once you were in the bedroom and you gaped up at him angrily. His face didn’t show a single emotion other than maybe mild annoyance, and this made you even angrier. You pursed your lips tightly and stared up at him defiantly, folding your arms across your chest.

“Breaking our ‘arrangement’ would mean you’d be married off to someone who will not give you free will.” He finally said, taking a half step closer to you.

“I don’t care. I hate you.” You said, childishly.

“You don’t hate me. You are cross with me. You sound like a child, right now.” He remarked and you shook your head.

“No. I hate you. I mean, I really hate you. You cannot make up your mind! We get married and you’re kind to me, and not even a month later you’re as cold as ice! Then you tell me that you wouldn’t touch me if I was the last person alive! But then you kiss me? Take care of me when I’m drunk, you’re all… gentle with me. And now you’re avoiding me, sneaking around with her. Make no mistake, I couldn’t care less who you really love, but this isn’t fair to me!” You exclaimed, your voice growing less angry and more… hurt, much to your dismay, “You might think you’re in the right, marrying me for noble reasons, but I’m…” you trailed off and you leaned back against the wall next to the door and you slid down slowly, until you were sitting on the cold floor, your dress pooling around your legs.

He waited for you to continue, not speaking. His eyes never left your face once and you felt the familiar burn of his gaze on you. The even more familiar sting of tears began to form over your eyes and you brought your hands up to your face.

“I’m tired of pretending that I’m okay with a chivalrous at best marriage. This is never what I wanted,” you started, your voice wavering, “I would rather risk it all and take my chances with someone else if it meant there was a slight chance of finding someone who actually loves me.” You finished in a whisper, keeping your face in your hands.

He was silent and you expected this. You expected him to smooth it over and tell you that it was okay, that this marriage was for the best, and then leave again. You expected him to go back to Alina and spend the rest of the day with her, as he had the past five days.

What you didn’t expect was to feel his hands gently pull you to your feet by your arms. You didn’t look at him, you didn’t want to, so you opted for looking down at the tips of your boots. You were so close to him that you could smell him, just as you had when he carried you back to your bedroom. Except, now the smell wasn’t inviting. Now, it made your head hurt and it made your chest tighten. You pressed your lips together as tightly as you could and said nothing, hoping that he’d just leave you alone.

His cold fingers grabbed ahold of your chin and he tilted your head up towards his and he looked down into your tear-glossed eyes. You felt your bottom lip quiver as you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose. You wanted to pull away, you wanted to at the very least, look away, but he held your gaze. His face had no emotion on it, but you could see in his eyes that his mind was racing, like he didn’t know what to do. You shakily reached up and grabbed his wrist in your smaller hand and you pried his hand away from your face. You gave him an apologetic smile and you took a step back.

“You know this is for the best.” You whispered.

“Best for who?” He asked, quickly, as if he didn’t even think about it.

You were taken aback, “For both of us. This way you can be with Alina, just like you want, and I can have a shot at finding real love. It’s for the best.” You insisted, taking another step back.

You didn’t get far, because The Darkling’s hands moved quickly to grab your waist and pull you back towards him.

“I disagree.” He whispered, “You are just scared. This isn’t what’s best. You’re just frightened. Frightened that you may have feelings for me, frightened that I don’t return them. Frightened that I have affections for Alina.”

You furrowed your brow and you looked up at him and shook your head, “That’s not…” you trailed off and fell silent. You refused to contemplate his words, and maybe it’s because you knew he was right. It was impossible not to be somewhat attracted to him, by his looks alone. You shook your head again and tried to step away, but he wasn’t letting you go anywhere.

“You’re making this worse.” You whispered and closed your eyes, your lips pursing.

“Let me make it better, then.” He said in a low tone.

“I don’t want you to make it better.” You insisted.

“If you wanted love, little princess, all you needed to do was tell me.” He murmured, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face gently.

“I don’t want to.” You argued, but the way you leaned your face into the palm of his hand was a bit contradictory.

“Then what is it that you do want?” He asked, thumb brushing slowly across your cheekbone, his cold skin sending a chill through your body.

“I…” you began, tears pooling in your eyes. They slowly rolled down your cheeks as you looked up at him, your bottom lip trembling, “I want you to love me.” You admitted, shame heating your cheeks.

The silence between the two of you was palpable and you went to move away from him again, but he pulled you back into place once more. His thumbs caught each tear that rolled down your cheeks, though it seemed pointless with how many were falling. You two stayed like that for a long time, until your husband coaxed your head forward. He gently laid your head down against his chest and he wrapped both of his arms around your waist, a gesture that would have left you speechless if you weren’t already out of words to say.

His hand laid against the back of your head and he slowly began to rock you from side to side, as if it would soothe you. There was so much you wanted to ask him, but the questions would leave your mind as soon as they came. Part of you wanted to pull away from him, leave him behind like you’d planned, but the other part couldn’t even consider leaving his embrace.

So you didn’t.

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