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sebscore · 4 months ago

Text

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: angst. angst. angst. swearing. like a lot of swearing. i cannot write crashes/contact for the life of me. argument. lando and reader are assholes in this.

author's note: dont even ask me why i wrote this, i got inspired and needed it out of my system. lol.

masterlist

''Retire the car. Too much damage. Sorry, Y/N.'' Marco informed her over the radio, sounding frustrated and apologetic over her already finished race.

The driver took a deep breath before answering. ''Too bad, it was going well. Thanks, guys.''

Her race had in fact been going well. She'd made a great start going from P4 to P2, and had managed to keep up with the Red Bull of Max. They weren't even halfway in the race or Lando tried overtaking her, causing contact, causing her to run off in the gravel with too much trouble on the car to continue.

In her opinion, it had been reckless. The McLaren driver knew exactly she would end up being forced off the track by the overtake, and that her race would most likely be over because of it.

As she trudged back to the garage, helmet in hand, she could barely contain her frustration. The team greeted her with sympathetic looks, but she didn't stop to talk to anyone. She headed straight for her driver's room, needing a moment to cool off before she could face the media.

Her hands trembled with anger as she peeled off her gloves, tossing them onto a nearby chair. The season hadn't been going how she had hoped or even expected it to go. Last year she had been the vice World Champion, the undisputed second-best driver on the grid, the only one to essentially have been able to challenge Max's dominance. Now, she got lucky to even end up in the top five of a race. Her team's design of the car hadn't been meeting the expectations the engineers had set, and upgrades weren't helping in the way they had hoped.

That is why this race weekend had been a great boost for the team's morale and confidence. Qualifying had gone really well, and for a moment they were able to fight for the win even. But the papaya car of No. 4 had shoved their hopes down the drain.

Minutes later, there was a knock on the door. She turned to see Marco standing there, looking concerned. ''You okay?''

''Have I ever been okay,'' she remarked, a sarcastic chuckle leaving her lips. ''I'm just pissed, that's all. I had high hopes for today.''

''We all did,'' he smiled sadly. ''The stewards reviewed the incident, but he, uh, didn't get a penalty.'' He said softly, almost as if he was afraid of her reaction.

The young woman let out a bitter laugh. ''Of course he didn't, why would he?'' Her hands covered her face, briefly wiping off the sweat that had formed.

Marco took a step closer, his expression a mix of empathy and disappointment. ''You drove brilliantly out there. Everyone saw it. The team saw it. It's just... racing politics sometimes.''

She dropped her hands, meeting his eyes with a mixture of anger and resignation. ''It's always like that, though. It's always the same drivers suffering the consequences of others, and they don't get shit for it. It is fucking annoying.''

Her engineer nodded, understanding everything she was saying. ''I know, we all know. But we keep fighting. We keep pushing. This season isn't over yet.''

''Yeah, true.'' She sighed.

Marco gave her a reassuring smile. ''We'll be ready for the next race. We're all in this together, okay? We're all behind you.''

She nodded, feeling a small measure of comfort in his words. ''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' They shared a quick embrace, before he left to join the team again. Meanwhile she got herself ready to go to the media pen. As much as she wanted to hide away, she knew it was part of the job.

Since she had an early exit, there wasn't much activity inside the area, though there were a bunch of reporters waiting for her.

''Y/N, tough race today. Can you tell us what happened from your perspective?'' The reporter asked after briefly greeting her.

''Yeah, it was, uh, challenging, I guess,'' she plastered a smile on her face. ''We had a great start, moving up to P2 and keeping pace with Max. Then, yeah, the contact with Lando. The car had a bunch of damage, and we decided to just retire the car.''

''Do you think it was a fair move by him?'' He followed up.

She paused, weighing her response. ''Racing is always intense, especially at this level. I don't think it was the right move to make, but the stewards saw it as a racing incident. I'll respect their decision, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating.''

''You and Lando are good friends, and have been racing against each other since your karting days. Will you talk to him afterwards or just forget about it?''

They had expected a question like this, so the media-trained answer came out very quickly. ''It was deemed a racing incident, so there is not much to say further about it.''

''How do you and your team plan to bounce back from this setback?'' The reporter for Sky Sports changed the topic.

''We'll regroup and come back stronger,'' she answered, injecting as much determination into her voice as she could muster. ''This season has been tough, but my team and I are committed to pushing forward. We learn from every race, and today is no different.''

''That's great, thank you, Y/N.'' They wrapped up the interview, and she moved onto a new one.

Once she had spoken to everyone she needed to speak to, she finally had a moment to herself. She knew the words she had just spoken were the right ones, but they did little to soothe the turmoil inside her.

It didn't help that Lando managed to take the lead, and eventually get his first win. As she watched the remainder of the race from the sidelines, her emotions were all over the place. On the one hand, she was proud of her friend for finally making his dream come true. However, it had come at the expense of her race. She had pushed so hard this season, and to see her friend and rival celebrate his triumph while she stood there with nothing but frustration was almost unbearable.

The cheers from the McLaren garage echoed in her ears. They celebrated wildly, the joy of his long-awaited victory palpable even from a distance. He was swarmed by his team as they shouted his name.

The podium ceremony was even worse. As Lando stood on the top step, the British national anthem playing in the background, she couldn't help but replay the moment that had ended her race. She could see the excitement in his eyes, the genuine happiness that came with achieving a lifelong dream. But all she could think about was the contact, the gravel trap, and the wrecked potential of what could have been her race.

Under any other circumstance, she would have been there for him. She would have run to the ceremony herself, just like he had done for her when she got her first win in F1 and made history as the first woman to do so. But it just stung too deep.

''Lando, there was an incident with Y/N that resulted in her retiring from the race. Can you tell us what happened there?'' The Dutch reporter asked the race winner.

Lando's expression shifted slightly, the euphoria dimming just a bit. ''Uh, yeah. I saw a gap and went for it. It was a tight move, and unfortunately, it led to some contact. But that's racing, you know.''

''Have you spoken to her yet?''

''Not yet,'' he admitted. ''But I don't think there is much to talk about.'' He chuckled, quickly glancing sideways, but his laugh seemed forced.

''She told Sky Sports that she didn't think you made the right move there.'' The journalist said, instigating a headline for them to be able to use.

Lando frowned at his words, but recovered. ''Well, that's her opinion. It was just racing for me.''

''So you don't regret making the move?'' The reporter pressed on.

The Brit took a deep breath before answering. ''I regret that it ended her race. But as a racer, you have to take chances. It's a fine line, you know.''

The older man in front of him nodded at his response, knowing they had gotten a glimpse of the tension that was present between the fan-favorite duo. ''Thank you, Lando. Congratulations again.''

''Thank you.''

With that, the interview wrapped up, and Lando moved onto the next reporter. As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He didn't think he had done anything wrong, so why was everyone talking to him as if he had done something wrong?

Y/N was struggling to unwind. The events of the day played over and over in her mind, each replay more frustrating than the last. She tried to distract herself by either watching some TikToks or TV, but nothing could drown out her thoughts. The texts from her friends, family and team certainly didn't help. It was a nice gesture, but she didn't want to think about the race anymore and the messages weren't helping. Finally, she decided to call it a night and climbed into bed, hoping sleep would offer some respite.

Just as she was starting to drift off, another knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. It was unusual for someone to bother her this late, especially when she was winding down in her hotel room.

She frowned and got out of bed, opening the door to find Lando standing there, wearing his signature grin, acting nonchalant as ever. ''You wanna come celebrate with us? We rented a club.''

Y/N frowned at him, confused over his casual behavior. ''No.'' She scoffed, offended by the mere thought.

It was now Lando's turn to frown at his friend. ''Why?''

She crossed her arms, incredulous at his obliviousness. ''Why? Are you taking the fucking piss out of me or something.''

His grin faltered slightly, but he tried to maintain his composure. ''If this is about the racing incident then you're being ridiculous.''

Her eyes widened in disbelief, her frustration boiling over. ''I am being ridiculous? You were ridiculous with that move you pulled!'' She retorted, raising her voice. ''You ran me off the track knowing how hard this season has fucking been for me. You know how much I needed a good result today and you ruined it for me!''

''Y/N, I get that you're upset, but it's racing. These things are bound to happen. I saw a gap and I went for it. The stewards didn't even penalize me, so clearly, it wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be.'' He was restraining from rolling his eyes, she could tell.

She scoffed, shaking her head. ''Oh, so now you're agreeing with the stewards? Now that it is benefitting you? And there was no fucking gap, you were just being selfish. You knew what you were doing, and you didn't care how it would affect me.''

Lando's face hardened, his patience wearing thin. ''I didn't do it on purpose to screw you over, where the fuck are you getting that from? I saw an opportunity, and I took it. That's what we do out there. You know that better than anyone."

''If that opportunity was ruining my fucking race, then yeah, you really took the opportunity, Norris.'' She rolled her eyes, voice tinged with sarcasm.

He took a step closer, his frustration now matching hers. ''I'm sorry that you didn't get the result you wanted today, I really am. But I am not going to apologize for racing and doing my job, Y/N.''

She simply glared at him, disappointed in how he was acting towards her. They'd never really had an argument before, at least not one where they couldn't see each other's point. They'd been frustrated with each other before, but it was always in reason.

''If anything, I should be angry with you- not the other way.'' Lando suddenly said.

''Why's that?'' She sneered, almost in disbelief that he would have a valid reason.

''Because you didn't even have the fucking guts to congratulate me,'' he snapped back, ''when you won Silverstone, I was literally one of the first people to hug you and congratulate you for your win. I stood next to your fucking parents, Y/N! And today you didn't even bother doing anything.''

Her mouth fell open, a mix of shock and anger flooding her veins. ''You are unbelievable… You ruined my fucking race, Lando! How am I supposed to stand there and cheer for you when you cost me everything today?''

He rolled his eyes while throwing up his hands. ''This isn't just about today. You're just jealous because my season has been going so much better than yours. You can't fucking stand that for one time I'm doing actually better than you.''

''Jealous… of you?'' The words came out like laughter, slightly hurting the McLaren driver's ego. ''You think I can't be happy for you because I'm not doing as well? That's so low, Lando.''

''Ever since the start of the season you've been so moody and distant, and now you can't even say or even fucking text me a congratulations for my first win. You're so pissed that I got a win before you this season, you can't even hide it.'' He shot back.

''Oh, give me a break. Like you wouldn't act the same if you were getting all these shit results. Maybe I didn't congratulate you because I was too busy trying to scrape gravel out of my fucking tires.'' She remarked, throwing in the sarcastic comment.

Lando looked unimpressed by her remark. ''You're just mad cause I'm outshining you. You can't fucking stand that I'm getting all the attention.''

''Outshining me? Are you hearing yourself?'' She mocked him, laughing bitterly. ''You get one win and you're acting like you're a fucking World Champion already. You've been riding Max's dick these last years hoping some of his success will rub off on you. Newsflash Norris, everyone is just fucking laughing at you.''

His face turned red, either embarrassment or anger. ''At least I'm not constantly whining about my car and blaming everyone else for my problems. Maybe if you spent more time focusing on your driving and less on complaining, you'd have more to celebrate.''

''You're a fucking spoiled brat who can't stand some competition. You think everything should be handed to you on a silver platter.'' She retorted.

''And you're a fucking baby who throws a temper tantrum everytime you don't get what you want. It's time to fucking grow up, Y/N!'' He shouted, his voice rising with each word.

She took a step closer to him. ''You should spend less time trying to prove yourself to people who don't give a shit about you, and more time trying to be a decent fucking human being. I'm ashamed to call you one of my best friends.''

That last sentence had clearly hit a nerve or several nerves. He shook his head, taking a few steps back. ''Fuck you, Y/N. Enjoy your pity party.'' Lando turned and walked away, joining his friends who were waiting in the lobby.

She watched him go, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and heartbreak. She could feel the pulse of her racing heart, the adrenaline from their argument making her feel jittery and unsteady.

A lump formed in her throat as she replayed the last few minutes in her mind. She cringed internally at the words she had fired at Lando, while also trying to ignore the sting from his own harsh words. She wondered how they would be able to come back from this. They had never been in a situation like this before, and she knew that she would never want to be in this situation again.

The young woman knew that she had let her emotions get the best of her. She had always prided herself on being fair and understanding, but now she felt ashamed of herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another door opening. George peeked out, concern etched on his face. ''Y/N, you okay?''

She shook her head, not wanting to deal with anyone else. ''Mind your business, Russell.'' She retreated back into her room, not before slamming the door behind her.

As she leaned against the closed door, the weight of the evening pressed down on her. The room felt too small, her emotions too big. She slid down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, and let the tears she had been holding back finally fall.

Even when she finally got up, even when she tucked herself in again for the final time, and even when she tossed and turned the entire night, the same question lingered in her mind.

Are they still friends?

The question haunted her, gnawing at her thoughts every time she closed her eyes. She replayed the argument over and over, dissecting every word, every expression. The hurt in his eyes, the anger in his voice- it all felt so raw and irreversible.

As the hours dragged on, sleep remained elusive. The darkness of the room mirrored the uncertainty in her heart. She knew they both needed time to cool off, to reflect, but the thought of facing Lando again filled her with dread.

The first light of dawn began to seep through the curtains, and she felt no more at ease than she had the night before.

Are they still friends?

story ideas are always welcome, but remember that it can take a while for me to get to it! :)

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc #f1 grid x reader #female f1 driver #f1 x reader #f1 x female driver

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lusmeitli · 2 months ago

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But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break.

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him.

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together.

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.”

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left.

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?”

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand.

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped.

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #mcu loki #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader smut #loki smut #snow

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7-wonders · 1 month ago

Text

"Watching horror movies together"

From a Halloween prompt list. Thanks for reading, guys :)

In your humble opinion, October is one of the best months of the year. How can it not be, when there are so many fun activities that come along with the fall season? Pumpkin patches and apple picking, haunted houses and costume parties, colorful trees and fall-scented everything. One of your favorite parts of October? An excuse to watch as many scary movies as you could possibly desire.

You don’t just watch scary movies in October, of course. Halloweentown and Hocus Pocus were made for this month, and it’d be a shame to not watch them both at least once. But horror movies, in all their spooky, creepy glory, have a special place in your heart, and they’re something that you go out of your way to watch this month. There are only so many days that you can pack in all the Halloween you can handle, after all.

You’re spending the night as you do so many others in October—with the lights off, a snack on your coffee table, and the horror movie of your choice on the screen (tonight’s pick being The Conjuring). The movie is maybe 15 minutes in when you get your first jump scare, but it doesn’t come from the screen. Instead, it comes when a man materializes out of the shadows of your living room, making you yell in fright before your eyes recognize the messy head of black hair and alabaster skin.

“You scared me!” you exclaim, quickly getting over your fear and being unable to stop smiling when it sinks in that Morpheus is actually here.

“My apologies.” He takes in the scene before him, you sitting in a darkened room with a blanket on your lap watching a movie, with interest. “What are you doing?”

“Watching a movie. Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re almost never in the Waking.”

It takes him a moment to figure out how to say what he wants to say. “My duties have kept me away from you as of late. I wish to rectify that.”

After translating from Morpheus to English, you have to exert a lot of willpower to keep from breaking. He came all the way to a realm he’s not comfortable in simply because he missed you? Because he feels guilty for being busy and wants to try and make it up to you?

(There’s no need for him to make anything up, because you’re not mad at him in the slightest. He’s the ruler of a freaking realm; of course, that’s going to take precedence over almost everything in his life. But if his misplaced guilt causes him to spend more time with you, then you certainly won’t complain.)

“Okay. Do you…want to watch the movie with me, then?”

He considers the question, likely the first time he’s ever been asked such a thing. Regally, he answers, “I suppose.”

Now he’s here, sitting next to you on your secondhand couch in your cozy apartment, trying to wrap his all-knowing mind around what a horror movie is. You’re simply pleased beyond measure that your boyfriend is doing something so human and mundane with you, and therefore willing to answer any of his questions that take your attention away from the screen.

“These are watched with the express purpose to leave the viewer frightened?”

“Exactly. You know, like how people read Dracula and Frankenstein?” Relating the movie to classic literature he’s familiar with (you doubt he’s had time to catch up on Stephen King novels) finally makes it click for Morpheus, who nods. “It’s fun to be scared, sometimes.”

Even though this is likely one of the first movies that Morpheus has ever watched, he has enough of an idea of the concept to realize that it’s an activity that’s mostly conducted in silence. It’s a concept he respects…for the most part.

(“Why do they not simply move to another home?” Morpheus asks when one of the daughters sees someone standing in the dark behind her door. Smirking, you simply say, “Now you’re asking the right questions.”)

When the pictures fall off the wall and remind you that one of the best scenes is seconds away from happening, you smile as an idea comes to mind.

“There is another plus to watching scary movies together,” you begin, making Morpheus look at you curiously.

“And that would be?”

“Well, when scary things happen on screen…” Carolyn Perron falls down the stairs as the spirit locks the door. “And if I were to, say, jump in fright because of it…” The basketball is thrown from within the cellar, and you jump exaggeratedly. “Then it would only make sense for you, as my romantic interest, to…” Taking Morpheus’s hand in yours, you maneuver his arm until it’s draped around your shoulders. “Comfort me.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the new position, for his arm to relax around you until he naturally pulls you closer to him. When he does, your smile widens until you’re flashing a very smug grin at him.

“I believe you are right,” he says. “This does make the experience better.”

Laughing lightly, you kiss his shoulder before turning your attention back to the movie. October continues to be full of new reasons as to why it’s one of the best months of the year.

#the sandman #morpheus x reader #Morpheus imagine #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine

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ningvory · 10 months ago

Note

i have to share this thought : (i think about it on a daily)

sometimes i just randomly think about playing truth or dare with best friend! ningning and at first the dare/questions etc were normal but then it escalated to dirty things however reader is very inexperienced so she takes advantage of it, stealing her first kiss, making her eat her out, telling her she’s doing a good job

later you just become her little toy, she would use you in her sleep, use a fucking machine on you

i feel like ningning would be obsessed with reader’s tit, sucking on it whenever she has a chance

anyways that’s it you don’t have to reply! i just wanted to share it with you :)

OMG!?

parings: bestfriend!ningning x inexperienced!reader

synopsis: ning was your best friend who also had a thing for corrupting your innocence

warnings: college au, pussy eating, fuck machine, corruption kink, darcyphilia, fuck machine, somnophilia, scissoring, toys, overstim, dumbification, bondage, strap-on, face sitting, you’re so sensitive but ning’s so mean that she would overstim you on purpose :((

ningning was your best friend since forever! her friends were always confused on how you two even managed to be friends. ning was definitely the popular girl at school who went to almost every frat party, and you were the quiet girl at school, never attending parties.

but ning would definitely drag you to a few parties that would actually be exciting in her opinion! she would dress you in her clothes because she knew you definitely didn’t have any type of clothes for these parties.

ning would always put you in either a black skin-tight dress or a skimpy baby pink dress that would barely cover you up! ning would purposely do this, loving the way you innocently look at her, asking her if she could do your makeup! ning has spent countless nights fingering herself at the thought of sucking on your plush tits and taking away your innocence until she came!!

she decided to stop fantasizing about the dirty thoughts and make them a reality! summer break has started which meant you were free to leave campus and do whatever, you usually got a little summer job for a few bucks until school started back. your phone vibrated, indicating that you got a notification, you opened your phone to see your best friend send you a message.

‘hey babes!! parents left for a trip so sleepover at my house! <3’

once you arrived at ning’s house, she immediately pulled you into a hug making you squeal out and almost drop your bag! you showed up to her house with such a loser outfit, the complete opposite of ning’s outfit! she’s wearing her satin shorts that do nothing to over her up, along with a matching crop top.

“you’re such a loser, but it’s cute.” ning jokingly said to you, pulling you into her house.

ning would drag you to the living room, telling you to sit on the floor as she went to grab 2 red plastic cups and a bunch of different alcohols that her parents drink.

“let’s play truth or dare!” ning excitedly said as she sat down infront of you, placing everything she got from the kitchen to the side of the two of you.

you always said truth so her questions would be innocent at first, ning would ask stuff like if you ever had your first kiss or skinny dipped in a pool, yk shit like that but ofc you said no to all of her questions, you were so innocent it just made ning wanna make you a pretty slut for her!! the first time you said dare, ning dared you to kiss her.

you didn’t know what she meant so you kissed her cheek, thinking nothing of it but she would hold your head in her hands and began to kiss you so passionately, taking your first kiss!! the second time she dared you, she got a little bolder.

“i dare you to have sex with me,” she said as she began to crawl towards you with a innocent smile as if she didn’t just dare you to fuck her!!

you were struggling to say the words you wanted to say! you were so inexperienced, you hardly even masterbaited! but of course ning already knew you were inexperienced in this field so she would take it slow with you!! <33

ning would take her shorts and panties off and sit down on the couch behind her, telling you to sit infront of her on your knees. ning would tell you to take your shirt off as she spread her legs, revealing her dripping cunt to you!

ning would push your head to her cunt, telling you to eat her out, seeing how good you can please her before she teaches you. you were eating her cunny so messy!! kitten licking her cunt first then sucking on her clit and tongue fuck her hole, shaking your head side to side and up and down, her juices getting all over your face!! you were just so cute, doe eyes looking up and her and watching how she would moan and arch her back, moaning out praises until she squirted all over your tits!!

she would pull you up from your knees and kiss you again, tasting herself on your tongue as you were whining into her mouth when you felt her grope your tits, drool spilling out of your mouth as ning was controlling the kiss until you two were out of oxygen. she would pull back and watch how you were trying to catch your breath before she would tell you to take your panties off!! her mouth was salivating at the thought of tasting you.

ning would lay down and pull you on top of her after she reassured you that you weren’t gonna hurt her. she would bring your hips up towards her face and began eating your cunt out! once she stared, she really couldn’t stop! you tasted so good on her tongue she couldn’t stop lapping at your cunny! you would be moaning so much ontop of her, brain short-circuiting with tears rolling down your face, you were so sensitive!! her tongue on your poor cunny was too much so you tried to get off of her but she would force on her face and make you take it!! :((

later on it would be a regular thing, your own bestfriend basically made you her little toy to corrupt! ning would use you whenever she was horny or bored, she didn’t care if you were sleep! she would walk into her room where you were sleeping so peacefully and pull the blankets off you, revealing your naked body to her. she would takes her panties off and begin to rub her cunt on yours aggressively, she would be so mean to you on purpose!! she knew that your cunt was sensitive but she still did it anyway! the feeling would make you jolt awake and you would whine out to her and push her hips away, trying to get her off of you because you couldn’t take it!! but she wouldn’t do anything but pin you to the bed and begin to suck on your plush tits!! :((

ning would definitely be mean on purpose, whenever she wants to eat you out, she would tie your hands together behind your back and make you sit on her face, using her strength to keep you in place on top of her! you would cry out and plea for her to slow down but she would just go faster then she did before, making you ride her face as tears were falling down your face from the sensation!! :((

ning would tie you up to her fuck machine, using the biggest dildo she had and putting the machine on it’s fastest setting. she would be pounding into your cunt as well, with her 13 inched strap on, fucking you so well that you were letting out silent moans!! you were fucked so dumb you couldn’t even form a sentence as she was pulling orgasms and orgasms out of you, making you squirt all over her strap-on and the dildo! i think ning would also sit on your face, shutting you up because you were so damn whiny from the dildo abusing your drooling cunny, she would also pinch your perky nipples when you’re not doing it right!! :((

#ningvory #kpop smut #aespa smut #aespa x fem reader #wlw smut #aespa ningning smut #ningning smut #aespa ningning #♡.nabi’s asks #♡.nabi’s anons #♡.ningning

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julietsbody · 10 months ago

Text

now lick it — academy ! coriolanus + reader : coriolanus was quick to take a liking to the capitol’s newest it girl, along with her leather prada kitten heels.

tags : 18+!! MDNI virgin ! coryo, sub ! coryo ( yk i had to do it for my sub coryo bbs ), dom ! fem reader, shoe humping, i think coryo likes leather… or heels… not sure, coryo is just a bitchboy in this idk what else to say.. THIS IS NOT A FEET KINK FIC BTW 😭coriolanus is just obsessed w/ rich things and u happen to have designer heels… HEAVYYYYYYYY MOMMY KINK / ISSUES, degradation

a / n : do i know how to write dom ! fem.. no…. did i try… yes……

you’d known coriolanus snow for as long as you could remember, watched his trials and tribulations, watched him continuously come on top albeit being so low. he was poor, hardly had enough money to feed the two others he lived with, always eating those damned lima beans. and you?

you were just perfect! you had everything and anything you could ever want, the most expensive five course meals, designer outfits, shoes made from only the best. those shoes… a sleek black leather with red painted on the bottom of the shoe, sling - back kitten heels.

they were utterly captivating, the effort put into making them, the richness it oozes with every step you take as you strut down the hallways without a single worry in the world, paying no mind to the blonde staring you down.

“he’s so fucking weird,” arachne comments as she walks alongside you, more likely to pay attention to the gazes of those around you.

“who?” you snap your head to her, brows furrowing together ever so slightly, albeit not much.

“that snow kid,” arachne glances back at him, and he’s still staring, as sejanus, his district best friend, yaps his ear off, “coriolanus.”

“is that so?” you can’t help the way you smile, following her gaze back to him, a knowing smile curving your glossed lips as he awkwardly looks away, trying to look like he’s engaging in a conversation with sejanus now, despite the evident nervousness that reeks from him even across the room.

from that day on, you soon began to realize coriolanus snow was not a phoenix rising from the ashes of his potential, but rather a cockroach that you couldn’t wait to squish. he had become insufferably obsessed with you, always asking your opinion on things, offering to do your homework, asking if you’d like to be his partner for projects, complimenting your hair, outfit, makeup— does he ever shut the fuck up?

you never even considered taking up any of his offers, until it all got to be too much, and you decided it would be the only thing to finally quiet him down. you glare at him as he approaches you, “yes?”

“would you like to—..” he pauses, nervously looking around, then shuffling his feet and looking back at you, “to.. be my partner on the project..?”

he’s so shy, a roach caught in the manicured hands of a raven, claws pushing into it’s shell. he’s surprised when your eyes soften at him, “of course.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

so that’s how he’s here now, awkwardly sitting across from you, lashes fluttering at his page. he can feel the sensation of your burning gaze, it never left him from the second you opened your door to him, watching his eyes widen as he admires your house, the way his cheeks flush ever so slightly when you compliment his button up.

it was a hand - me - down, you could tell.

your jaw ticks ever so slightly, pencil tapping against the table, “coriolanus?”

he immediately perks up, as if expecting you to speak, “yes..?”

you smile sweetly at him, “come here.”

come here, he’s immediately flustered, shifting in his seat, “what do you—“

“come here,” your voice is firmer now, making him gulp.

and of course he listens, how could he not? ever so slowly standing up, trying to be slick as he ‘naturally’ drops his hands to cover his bulge, assuming you hadn’t seen it as he takes hesitant steps to you. your eyes glisten up at him, head tilting to the side ever so slightly, “why are you here, coriolanus?”

he inhales sharply, “i don’t know what you’re talking about..”

“you do,” you respond quickly, red nails trailing down his arm, all the way to his wrist, and yanking it away from his hardened cock. you immediately scoff at the sight, making him want to curl up in a ball and die right on spot, “did you just want to fuck me, snow?”

“no..— no, no, nonono—“ he immediately pulls all the stops, raising his hands in a universal innocent pose, “i would never—“

“oh really?” your shoe moves to pass along his right ankle, feeling him shiver underneath your touch, “you know.. i would have never assumed a guy like you would be such a desperate little bitch.”

to your surprise, he whimpers. it’s quiet, but loud enough for you to hear, loud enough for you to smile at, watching his cheeks heat up as your shoe trails up his shin. your eyes stay on his face, watching him struggle against his restraint, trying so hard to just not move your shoe to his crotch and hump on it himself.

he needed the expensiveness searing on his skin, to feel the richness stain onto him.

he had to have it, he truly was so, so desperate.

he had thought about this many times, humping against the corner of his desk in his room, imagining it’s the leather of your shoe, the chair you sit on, the desk you tap your nails on, the side of the bed that you sleep on. god, it was so dirty, imagining you sleeping in the bed, so peaceful, as he humps the side of it for dear life, biting on the delicate skin of his hand to mask his whimpers.

his blonde curls fall in his vision as his head tips down to watch your heel as it moves up his thigh, then finally it pushes against his bulge. his knees immediately buckle, hips moving to lower himself against the heel as he tries to hump into it. you hold back your laugh, moving your foot away, “are you a fucking virgin?”

he quickly moves to nod, “yes.. yes— please.. please..”

you scoff at him, “please what?”

“need it— so bad..” he whimpers out, pathetic.

your molars press together, contemplating it for a second before your lips finally part, “take off your pants, and your boxers.”

he swiftly follows your every request, tugging down his slacks and boxers, his huge, hardened cock springing out, tip red like he’s been hard for hours, precum beading off his slit. he was eight inches, at least, girthy as well, but not much compared to the length. how could a man so submissive and pathetic have such a huge cock?

you squint at his approval - seeking gaze, not giving him any of it as you hum, moving your shoe to move against his cock, admiring the way precum smears on the rich leather. he pulls his lips together for a second, “mm—.. mmph— feels so fuckin’ good..”

you were seconds in, and it already seemed like his sanity was shattering, hips worthlessly bucking against your shoe, whimpering at any form of friction. his lashes flutter evidently at the feeling of the money spent on your shoes coating his cock, making him feel rich.

now he’s everything he’s ever wanted to be, a rich man, doused in money, able to spend it on all the riches the world could offer. diamond encrusted watches, pearls extracted from pure oysters, real leather, rich satin, deep maroon. he envisions it all in his mind as he humps against your shoe, whimpering out nonsensical mumbles that you couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“al—always.. wanted to do.. this— ah, ah..—“ he moans out, hand moving to clasp onto the table next to him.

and suddenly, he starts groaning out a name you could never imagine being called.

mommy.

it comes so natural to him in this moment, and it makes heat ignite between your legs. you can’t help but play into it, “mommy, huh? gonna cum for mommy? yeah?”

he desperately nods, gripping the table like it was his lifeline as his hips move faster against your heel, white beading at his stressed knuckles, “mm— mph.. mommy— please.. can i.. can i— can i can i…”

your head tips up to meet his gaze again, “can you what?”

“cum..—“ his nails dig into the expensive wood, garnished with a sleek gloss, tears nearly welling in his eyes from desperation, “..need to.. so s-so bad— please, mommy.. ‘ll be good— p-promise..”

“you won’t tell anyone about this?”

he shakes his head rapidly.

“you will leave me alone?”

“mm—..” his tip catches on to the leather of your shoe again, making his nose scrunch up, “mhmhmhm—“

“gonna be my good boy?”

his lips fall apart, desperately trying to hold back his rushing orgasm for as long as you’re putting it off for but god— when you’re calling him good boy, he just can’t. his eyes meet yours, pupils completely blown out, “y-yes.. mommy.. pleaseplease—“

he just wanted your approval, just wanted you to appreciate the effort he is putting into you, for you to smile at him and say he did a good job.

you put it off for another few seconds of silence, before finally tipping your chin to watch his dick slide against your shoe, “you can cum.”

and good lord, he does. thick white spurts of cum drip onto the expensive leather of your shoe, his legs trembling from the awaited release, lips moving around incoherent words. he starts mumbling out thank you’s and you can’t help but chuckle at him, did he think it was over?

you put on a faux pout, “you ruined my shoes.. can you clean them for me, coryo?”

coriolanus, albeit his pathetic showcase seconds later, would never, ever get on his knees to lick anyone's shoe. it was humiliating, disturbing, concerning, even— wait. he’s on his knees. his tender skin pushes against the hardened floor as you lower the shoe to align with his mouth, and much to his own surprise, his lips part, tongue snaking out to provide kitten licks onto the shoe.

his own cum is salty against his tongue, slimy and disgusting, but it also tastes like.. money. it tastes like your approval, like your love. his tongue starts to lap it up now like it was his last meal, fingers gripping the heal of your shoe to have a sturdier hold on cleaning it up.

“good boy,” you eventually mumble out to him, watching his tongue slip under the underside of your shoe to really clean it up. god, didn’t he know you were walking in these all day? what a disgusting, freakish animal.

well.. you did clean them after school, intending for them to be to this use.

but he didn’t have to know that, now did he?

he still licked it, even without knowing, and that is the best part.

he immediately nods, licking his lips to make sure he didn’t miss any other cum. his eyes move up to meet yours again, “thank you..”

“who?”

“mommy.”

that’s right.

coriolanus snow was completely and utterly your bitch now.

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novaursa · 2 months ago

Text

The Dragon's Right (7)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top and there is a link for a second list.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 500+

- Previous part: 6

- Next part: 8

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The warmth of Rhaenyra’s body pressed against yours was comforting as you lay together, her head nestled on your chest, the soft rise and fall of her breathing calming the air around you. The aftermath of your shared intimacy left a quiet stillness in the room, broken only by the crackling of the dying fire in the hearth. The closeness of the moment, the intimacy that came with it, made everything else in the world seem distant—unimportant, even.

You felt her fingertips tracing lazy circles over your chest, her delicate touch both soothing and grounding. She shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you, her violet eyes shimmering in the low light. There was an expression of contentment on her face, a smile tugging at her lips as she spoke.

“You should ask Father to betroth us,” she said softly, her voice filled with an earnest hopefulness.

The words, though spoken with affection, caused you to tense. It wasn’t that you hadn’t considered it—far from it. The thought had been lingering in your mind for days, growing stronger with every stolen moment you shared with her. But the reality of asking Viserys for such a thing was daunting. The weight of the crown, of duty, of tradition—it all loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You shifted slightly, staring up at the ceiling as you let out a quiet sigh. “Rhaenyra,” you began, hesitating as you tried to find the right words. “It’s not that simple. You know that.”

She frowned, her fingers stilling on your chest as she studied your face. “Why not? We’re Targaryens. This is our tradition—our right. Father understands that better than anyone.”

You exhaled slowly, your hand coming up to gently brush a strand of silver hair from her face. “I know he does,” you said quietly. “But convincing him… asking him to betroth us, it’s not a conversation I’ve been able to bring myself to have.”

Rhaenyra’s frown deepened, and she sat up further, her eyes narrowing slightly as she regarded you. “You’ve been planning to ask him, haven’t you? For days now, I can tell.”

You nodded, the truth settling between you both. “I have,” you admitted. ��But I don’t know how to approach it. I don’t know what Father’s reaction will be, or if he’ll even consider it. And even if he does… there’s the council to think about.”

“The council?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “What do they have to do with it? If we can convince Father, it won’t matter what the others think.”

You shook your head slowly, a deep furrow of thought etched into your brow. “You know as well as I do that the council will have their opinions. Otto Hightower, Corlys Velaryon… they’ll see us as a political tool to strengthen the realm through marriages to other noble houses. They won’t support this. We would likely find little, if any, allies among them.”

Rhaenyra’s expression hardened with determination as she moved to straddle your waist, her hands resting on your chest as she leaned over you. “Then let them object,” she said firmly, her voice soft but resolute. “If we convince Father that this is the best course for our House, that this will unite us as Targaryens, nothing they say will matter.”

You stared up at her, feeling the intensity of her words and the fire behind her conviction. She was as bold as ever, unwilling to let the opinions of others sway her from what she wanted. It was one of the many things you admired about her—her ability to forge her own path, to fight for what she believed in. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the responsibility you both carried.

“We could speak to him together,” she continued, her fingers tracing absent patterns on your skin. “At the next council meeting. We could make him see that this is what’s best for our family, for the realm.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting her words sink in. The thought of standing before Viserys and the council, of confessing your feelings and making such a bold request, made your stomach tighten. But you couldn’t deny that she was right—if you were ever going to secure your future together, it had to be now, before the pressures of the court forced your father’s hand in another direction.

Finally, you opened your eyes and met her gaze. “Perhaps,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But it will take more than just convincing Father. The court will fight us on this.”

Rhaenyra leaned down, her lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with unspoken promise. “Let them fight,” she whispered against your lips. “I won’t let them take you from me.”

You smiled faintly, your hand coming up to cup her cheek as you kissed her back. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, though there was no real bite to your words.

“I’m determined,” she corrected with a playful smirk, kissing you again before resting her head on your chest.

For a while, the two of you lay there in silence, the weight of your conversation hanging between you. The fire in the hearth had dimmed, and the night outside had deepened into quiet stillness. But as the moments passed, you felt the familiar pull of duty—an invisible force that always seemed to creep in, reminding you of the reality that awaited beyond these stolen hours.

Eventually, you sighed, gently shifting her off your chest as you sat up on the edge of the bed. “I need to go,” you said softly, your voice filled with regret. “It’s already late. If I’m not careful, someone might notice.”

Rhaenyra frowned, sitting up beside you and brushing her fingers over your arm. “Stay a little longer,” she urged, her voice almost pleading.

You shook your head, though it pained you to do so. “We can’t risk it. If anyone found out…”

She sighed, leaning her head against your shoulder. “I hate this,” she muttered. “Having to sneak around like we’re doing something wrong.”

“I know,” you whispered, your hand resting on hers. “But for now, it’s the only way.”

Reluctantly, you rose from the bed, pulling on your discarded clothes as Rhaenyra watched you, a mixture of frustration and affection in her eyes. Once you were dressed, you turned back to her, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her lips.

“Soon,” you promised quietly. “We’ll talk to Father soon.”

She nodded, though there was still a hint of disappointment in her expression. “Be careful,” she whispered as you moved toward the door.

With one last glance at her, you slipped out of her chambers and into the darkened corridors of the Red Keep, your mind racing with the implications of what lay ahead. Convincing Viserys would be no easy task, and even if he agreed, the battle with the court would be just beginning.

But for Rhaenyra—for the connection you shared—you were willing to fight.

The small council meeting began as most did, with the familiar rustle of parchment and the murmur of voices discussing the state of the realm. Grand Maester Mellos, with his usual somber tone, noted progress in various parts of the kingdom—trade routes improving, taxes collected in good measure, and peace holding in key regions. Yet, even as Mellos spoke, there was an undeniable tension hanging in the air. The absence of Corlys Velaryon, who had left to join Daemon in the Stepstones, only added to the weight of the moment.

You sat among the gathered lords, your mind not on the realm but on the conversation you knew you would have to start. Across the room, Rhaenyra, in her role as cupbearer, stood silently, her eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. That brief glance was all it took to ground you. She, too, was waiting for what was about to unfold.

Clearing your throat, you turned toward your father, King Viserys, who had been listening to the updates with mild interest. The conversation in the room lulled as you spoke up, your voice calm but with an edge of determination.

"Father," you began, your tone steady though your heart was pounding. "I may have a proposition… regarding my choice for a wife."

Viserys’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze snapping to yours. The silence that followed stretched across the room, as though everyone had been holding their breath in anticipation of what you were about to say. Even the ever-watchful Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing in interest.

After a long pause, Viserys, recovering from the initial shock, nodded for you to continue. "Speak, my son."

You took a deep breath, your gaze flicking briefly to Rhaenyra before you continued. "Rhaenyra and I have been discussing this matter," you began carefully, "and we both feel that the best course for our House—Targaryen—would be to strengthen it from within."

A ripple of unease spread through the room. You could feel the tension rising as you pressed on, undeterred by the shifting glances and murmurs from the council members.

"We believe," you said slowly, deliberately, "that both of our betrothals should be handled at once. And that Rhaenyra… should be wed to me."

The silence that followed was suffocating, thick and heavy, as though the very air had been sucked out of the room. Every eye was on you, the weight of your words sinking into the minds of the men seated around the table. Otto’s fingers steepled before him, his sharp eyes betraying no emotion as he studied you closely. Tyland Lannister, ever the calculating politician, stiffened visibly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

But it was Viserys’s reaction you watched most carefully. You saw the shock ripple across his face, followed by a flicker of confusion, then—unexpectedly—a moment of quiet understanding. His gaze shifted from you to Rhaenyra, lingering between the two of you as though considering something he had long thought impossible. For a heartbeat, you believed that he might actually be weighing the possibility.

But before Viserys could speak, Otto leaned forward, his voice smooth yet filled with caution. "Your Grace, while I do not doubt the advantages such a union may hold for House Targaryen," he began, "it would not sit well with the realm. The very idea could alienate potential allies. And," he added, glancing around the table for support, "the Faith of the Seven may be… troubled by another incestuous marriage, even within your family’s ancient customs."

Viserys’s expression shifted slightly, his brow furrowing as he considered Otto’s words. You could see the conflict in your father’s eyes, the way he was caught between his own understanding of Targaryen tradition and the political realities Otto had laid before him.

Rhaenyra, however, was not one to remain silent. Her voice cut through the stillness, firm and unwavering. "Father," she said, stepping forward, her tone filled with determination. "This is our House. Our legacy. A marriage between my brother and me would strengthen our bloodline and ensure that House Targaryen remains united. Who better to rule together than the heirs of the dragon?"

But before her words could fully sink in, Tyland Lannister interjected with a sharp, disapproving tone. "Princess, while I understand the sentiment, this would also alienate several key Houses. The Lords of Westeros will not look favorably upon such a match, and we risk losing valuable alliances that could be critical in times of need."

Rhaenyra turned toward Tyland, her expression hardening, but before she could respond, the council’s murmur grew louder. Lyonel Strong remained silent, his face unreadable, though his eyes flicked between you, Rhaenyra, and Viserys, clearly weighing the consequences of either decision. Grand Maester Mellos, who had been quietly stunned by the proposal, appeared to still be gathering his thoughts, unable to formulate a proper response in the moment.

Viserys finally spoke, his voice tinged with weariness. "I understand both your sentiments, Y/N… Rhaenyra. I know this is something you both feel deeply. But," he hesitated, glancing at the other members of the council, "such a match would indeed cause a great deal of unrest among the lords of the realm. They would see it as—"

"A threat?" Rhaenyra interrupted, her frustration evident as she stepped forward. "Our bloodline has always been different. They’ve always whispered about us behind our backs, but we are Targaryens. Our strength comes from within."

Her voice echoed through the chamber, but the cold reality of the court and its politics hung heavily in the air. Viserys glanced at her, sorrow in his eyes, but before he could respond, Rhaenyra slammed the cup she had been holding down onto the table with a loud clatter.

"I see," she spat, her voice filled with both anger and disappointment. "The realm matters more than our family."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and strode out of the chamber, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor as she made her hasty exit. The tension in the room thickened, and the silence that followed was unbearable.

Your gaze followed her, torn between your duties at the council and your instinct to go after her. But you knew you couldn’t simply leave. Not yet. Not with so much unresolved.

Viserys let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples in frustration. "We will speak of this later," he said quietly, his tone final, though the strain in his voice was unmistakable.

The council fell into an uneasy quiet, none daring to speak again on the matter as the weight of what had just been discussed lingered over the room like a storm waiting to break.

The dimly lit chambers of the Tower of the Hand had an oppressive air that matched the mood between father and daughter. Otto Hightower paced before the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back, his face set in a deep scowl. His movements were agitated, his mind clearly racing with thoughts of what had just transpired in the small council. Alicent stood near the window, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her gown as she watched him, the weight of her father’s discontent pressing heavily on her.

“I’ve just come from the council,” Otto said abruptly, his voice sharp. He stopped pacing and turned to face her, his eyes narrowing with displeasure. “Your prince, Y/N, has proposed to wed Rhaenyra.”

Alicent’s breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat as the words hit her like a blow. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her mind reeled, trying to comprehend what Otto had just said. The shock of it left her momentarily speechless, a flood of confusion and hurt surging through her.

“They’ve been planning it,” Otto continued, his tone dripping with frustration. “Behind everyone’s backs. He stood in front of the king and the entire council today and suggested that he and Rhaenyra should marry.”

Alicent felt her legs weaken, and she moved to sit down on a nearby chair, her body trembling with the weight of her emotions. “Rhaenyra… she wants to marry him?” she asked, her voice quivering. She struggled to make sense of the betrayal that now gnawed at her heart. She had always known how close Rhaenyra and her brother were, but this… this was something different. Something far deeper than she had ever imagined.

Her mind raced back to all the moments they had shared, the times when she had confided in Rhaenyra, thinking her friend supported her attempts to win [Your Name]’s favor. Now, it all seemed like a cruel joke, a façade that had hidden Rhaenyra’s true desires. The look on her friend’s face, the anger and possessiveness that had been masked as protectiveness—it all made sense now.

“She was never going to let anyone else have him,” Alicent murmured, her voice laced with disbelief as the realization sank in.

Otto’s eyes darkened with displeasure as he observed his daughter, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Of course not,” he said, his tone cutting. “And if you had done your job as I instructed, this wouldn’t have come to pass. You should have secured his attention, Alicent. You were meant to make him look to you, not to his sister.”

Alicent’s eyes filled with tears, her gaze falling to the floor as she struggled to hold back the wave of emotion rising within her. “I did everything you asked,” she said quietly, her voice trembling with sorrow. “I tried, Father. I really did. But he… he never looked at me that way. His mind was always elsewhere… always on her.”

Otto’s expression softened for a brief moment, but his frustration remained. He approached her slowly, his voice lowering as if to contain his anger. “There’s still time to salvage this,” he said, his tone taking on a more measured edge. “The king did not approve of their proposal outright. In fact, he voiced his concerns about such a match.”

Alicent looked up at her father, wiping a tear from her cheek. “What did he say?”

Otto sat down across from her, his sharp eyes meeting hers with intensity. “Viserys understands the political ramifications of such a union. He knows it would alienate potential allies, particularly among the great houses. And the Faith… they will not look kindly on another incestuous marriage, no matter how accepted it may have been in the past. He’s hesitant, and that is where our advantage lies.”

Alicent listened intently, though her heart still ached from the betrayal she felt—not just from Rhaenyra, but from the whole situation. She had believed, for so long, that there might be a chance for her to be with [Your Name]. But now, with this revelation, it seemed as though that chance was slipping away.

“We must make the king see the alternatives,” Otto continued, his voice becoming more calculated. “If we can show him that there are better options—alliances that would strengthen the crown rather than isolate it—then he may reconsider. And you, Alicent…” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. “You must continue to play your part.”

Alicent’s lip trembled as she lowered her head, her fingers twisting in her lap. “I don’t know what else I can do,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “He’s never looked at me the way he looks at her.”

Otto reached out, lifting her chin so that she was forced to meet his gaze. “You are the daughter of the Hand of the King,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering. “And you are beautiful, intelligent, and poised. You must not give up so easily. You need to show him that you are a better match, a more suitable wife. The court needs stability, and if Rhaenyra’s union with him is seen as a threat to the realm, you can be the solution.”

Alicent swallowed hard, her emotions still raw, but her father’s words began to sink in. She knew what was expected of her, and even though the pain of Rhaenyra’s betrayal cut deep, she couldn’t afford to let it show. If she wanted to secure her place at court, if she wanted to please her father and protect her own future, she would have to continue to play the game.

“There is still time,” Otto repeated, his voice softening just slightly. “But you must be strong, Alicent. Don’t let Rhaenyra’s actions push you out. If you want this, you will need to fight for it.”

Alicent nodded, her mind still swirling with conflicting emotions—hurt, betrayal, and a flicker of determination. She knew the road ahead would not be easy, but she couldn’t afford to falter now. Not when so much was at stake.

As her father stood and returned to his pacing, Alicent stared out the window, the light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the room. She understood now why Rhaenyra had been so protective, why she had reacted so strongly whenever another lady showed interest in her brother.

Rhaenyra had been protecting what was hers. And now, it was up to Alicent to decide whether she would let her friend take everything… or whether she would fight back.

The flames in the hearth crackled loudly, casting shadows that danced across the walls of the king’s chambers as Viserys sat slumped in his chair, a goblet of wine clutched tightly in his hand. His thoughts were heavy, weighed down by the events of the day. He had not expected the council meeting to unfold as it had, nor had he been prepared for the proposition that his son and daughter had laid before him. The idea of their union had struck him like a blow, shaking him to his core.

He had seen the desperation in their eyes, the conviction in their voices, but the weight of his crown—of the realm—had forced him to think beyond the desires of his children.

Just as he was about to take another sip of wine, the doors to his chambers burst open with a force that startled him. Rhaenyra stormed in, her face flushed with anger, her eyes burning with a fire that Viserys hadn’t seen in her for some time. She didn’t wait for an invitation or even pause to acknowledge the breach of decorum; she had come for a confrontation, and her fury was palpable.

“Father,” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage, “how could you dismiss us like that? Like we were nothing!”

Viserys set his goblet down, his brow furrowing as he straightened in his chair. “Rhaenyra,” he said wearily, “it’s not that simple. There are matters beyond what you and your brother want—”

“It is that simple!” she shot back, taking a step closer, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You refuse to see it because you’re too busy being a slave to the council’s whims!”

Her words struck hard, and Viserys’s face hardened as he rose from his seat. “Enough,” he said, his voice sharp. “You will not speak to me like that. I am your father and your king.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed, her chest heaving with the weight of her emotions. “You’re my father,” she echoed bitterly, “but you’ve forgotten that in favor of listening to men like Otto Hightower and Tyland Lannister—men who care more about their own power than our family. You care more about what they think than about what I want, what we want.”

Viserys’s jaw tightened as he took a step forward, his eyes flashing with frustration. “You think this is about what they want?” he demanded, his voice rising. “You think I make my decisions based on the whims of my council? This is about the realm, Rhaenyra! The Targaryen name means something, and I have a duty to uphold the stability of the crown.”

“And I have a duty too, don’t I?” Rhaenyra spat, her voice trembling. “To be used as a pawn for political alliances? To marry someone you think is suitable for the realm, not someone I love?” Her voice broke slightly on the last word, and she clenched her fists tighter, as if trying to contain the flood of emotions coursing through her.

Viserys’s face softened for just a moment, but then he shook his head, steeling himself. “It’s not about love,” he said, his tone quieter but still firm. “It’s about what’s best for the realm. You and your brother both have responsibilities—"

“Responsibilities,” Rhaenyra interrupted, her voice rising again. “Is that all we are to you? Responsibilities? I thought we were your children.”

“You are my children,” Viserys snapped, his patience beginning to fray. “And because you are my children, I need you to understand that there are larger concerns at play. I cannot let you and Y/N act on a whim—”

“This isn’t a whim!” Rhaenyra yelled, stepping even closer, her eyes blazing with anger. “This is what we both want. Y/N wants it, I want it—this is not some foolish wish. We’re not children anymore, Father. We’ve made our decision.”

Viserys’s frustration boiled over, and he raised his voice to match hers. “You and your brother will do your duty to the realm,” he shouted, his face flushed with anger. “But not like this!”

Rhaenyra flinched at his outburst, her lips parting in shock, but she quickly recovered, her fury renewed. “Our duty? Is that all that matters to you? The realm, duty, alliances—what about us? What about our family? Don’t we matter at all?”

“Of course you matter,” Viserys shot back, his voice still raised. “But I am the king, and my first duty is to the realm. You and Y/N—you think this is about love, about what’s best for you, but it’s more than that. The Lords of Westeros will not accept this marriage. They will see it as a threat, and the Faith—” He stopped himself, running a hand over his face in frustration.

Rhaenyra took a step back, shaking her head, her expression one of deep hurt. “You’re afraid,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re afraid of what they’ll think. Of what they’ll say.”

“I am not afraid!” Viserys roared, his hand slamming down onto the table with a loud crack. “I am the king, and I must think of the future of the realm. You cannot simply marry your brother because it’s what you want.”

“It’s not just what I want,” Rhaenyra shot back, her voice hoarse with emotion. “It’s what’s best for House Targaryen. We are stronger together, and you know that. Our bloodline—our legacy—it’s worth preserving. Just as Jaehaerys and Alysanne did.”

Viserys turned away from her, his hand gripping the back of his chair as he took a deep breath. His voice was quieter now, but there was a deep sadness in it. “I know what Jaehaerys and Alysanne did, and what my mother and father did,” he said softly. “And I know the burden that comes with it. But we cannot go back to those times, Rhaenyra. The realm has changed. The Faith has changed. The lords have changed. They will not accept it, no matter how much you want it.”

Tears brimmed in Rhaenyra’s eyes, though she refused to let them fall. She stood there, her chest heaving, staring at the man before her who was both her father and her king, and yet felt like a stranger in that moment.

“I thought you would fight for us,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I thought you would understand.”

Viserys didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the floor, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his crown.

Without another word, Rhaenyra turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing loudly in the silence that followed. The door slammed behind her, leaving Viserys standing alone, his heart heavy with the knowledge that no matter what he did, he would never be able to satisfy both his children and the realm he ruled.

Alicent stood still for a moment in the hallway, her heart heavy after watching Rhaenyra pass by in a storm of anger and tears. Ser Criston Cole, loyal and vigilant, trailed behind the princess, his armor clinking softly with every step. Alicent’s chest tightened with concern. She could see the turmoil on Rhaenyra’s face but knew better than to approach her at that moment. Their friendship, once so simple and full of trust, had been shaken by too many unseen forces.

As Rhaenyra vanished from sight, Alicent spotted Ser Harwin Strong standing near the edge of the hall, his posture relaxed but attentive. She quickly made her way to him, hoping for some kind of clarity or direction.

"Ser Harwin," she called softly, her voice carrying a quiet urgency. "Have you seen the prince?"

Harwin offered her a polite bow, his expression respectful yet guarded. "Your Grace," he said in his deep, steady voice. "I believe the prince is on his way to the Dragonpit. If you make haste, you may catch him in the courtyard before he departs."

Nodding her thanks, Alicent quickly gathered her skirts and hurried down the corridor, her heart racing not just from her quickened pace but from the emotions swirling in her chest. She wasn’t entirely sure what she would say to Y/N, but she knew she needed to speak with him—if only to offer some comfort after the tension of the council meeting.

As she reached the courtyard, she saw you standing beside your horse, Stormwind. The large, powerful creature stood calmly as your young Tyrell squire, Trystan, adjusted the saddle straps and made sure everything was in place for your journey. The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the scene, making your dark riding leathers gleam. You wore finely crafted gear—deep brown leather with silver accents, designed for both protection and agility. A thick cloak, fur-lined for the cold, draped over your shoulders, secured with a dragon-shaped clasp at your throat. Every detail spoke of your status as the crown prince, yet there was something unmistakably worn about your attire—a testament to the battles you’d fought and the long flights on Silverwing.

As you prepared to mount Stormwind, you noticed Alicent approaching. You straightened, your expression shifting from focus to polite acknowledgment. Her steps were measured, but you could see the concern in her eyes. She offered you a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Lady Alicent,” you greeted her, your voice calm but formal. “What brings you here?”

Alicent slowed as she approached, her gaze flicking between you and Stormwind. “Your Grace,” she began, her voice soft, “I heard about what happened during the council meeting… and I wished to offer my sympathies.”

You felt your frown deepen slightly, the weight of the meeting still fresh in your mind. Though you had steeled yourself against the outcome, the sting of it remained. “Thank you,” you replied, though there was a hint of tension in your voice. “It was… a difficult conversation, but these things often are.”

Alicent nodded, her expression full of understanding. She stepped a little closer, her voice lowering as if she didn’t want anyone else to overhear. “I know how much this means to both you and Rhaenyra. It must be frustrating to have your wishes dismissed so easily.”

You glanced at her, studying her face for a moment. Her words were kind, but there was something else behind them—something more complex. You could see that she was trying to offer comfort, but it also felt as though she was searching for something in your response, a deeper understanding of where things stood.

“It is,” you said, keeping your tone measured. “But the realm requires more than just our desires. There are always… complications.”

A flicker of sympathy crossed her face, and she nodded again, her hands wringing together. “I understand that. Truly, I do. But it seems unfair, to deny something that could strengthen your House from within. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

You sighed softly, your gaze drifting toward Stormwind for a moment before returning to Alicent. “It is difficult, yes,” you admitted, though you kept your voice steady. “But we all have our duties, even if they conflict with what we want.”

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke. The courtyard felt strangely quiet despite the activity around you. Trystan finished securing the straps on your saddle, standing a respectful distance away as he waited for you to mount. Alicent’s eyes softened as she looked at you, her expression a mixture of sympathy and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“I hope you and Rhaenyra find the peace you seek,” she said softly, her voice carrying an earnest sincerity. “I truly do.”

You gave her a small, polite smile, though your mind was already drifting to the flight ahead. “Thank you, Lady Alicent,” you replied. “Your concern is appreciated.”

You turned your attention back to Stormwind, knowing it was time to leave. The Dragonpit awaited, and Silverwing’s company was the only solace you could count on at that moment. With a practiced motion, you mounted the horse, adjusting your grip on the reins as you settled into the saddle. Before you could spur the horse forward, you glanced down at Alicent one last time.

“Until we meet again,” you said, your tone still formal, though there was a touch of warmth in your farewell.

Alicent offered you a final nod, her hands clasped in front of her as she watched you prepare to depart. “Until then, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice soft but steady.

With a gentle nudge of your heels, Stormwind began to move forward, the sound of his hooves echoing through the courtyard. You cast one last glance back at Alicent before guiding your horse through the gates, your mind already turning to the sky, to the wind, and to Silverwing’s waiting presence.

As you rode off, leaving the keep behind, the weight of the day’s events settled over you once more. The tension with your father, the anguish in Rhaenyra’s eyes—all of it followed you like a shadow, even as you tried to shake it free with the promise of flight.

Behind you, Alicent remained standing in the courtyard, watching your retreating figure. Her heart felt heavy, a mix of sympathy and something more bitter twisting inside her. She had come to offer support, but now she felt more distant from both you and Rhaenyra than ever before.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd x male reader #hotd x y/n #hotd #hotd x you #alicent hightower #rhaenyra x y/n #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x you #house targaryen #silverwing

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

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Can I request a little somno something with obsessive best friend!Neil? 🩷

OH FUUUUCK YES

warnings: DARK NONCON SMUT 18+ ONLY, alcohol consumption/extreme inebriation, incel/'nice guy' neil

You stumbled in and fell onto his couch the second he opened the door, and he'd just laughed and asked if you wanted to get in his bed instead. He worried it sounded dirtier than he meant it-- not that he would mind at all if you wanted him to get in bed with you-- but you just hummed and mumbled something into his throw pillow about how you were comfy where you were already.

He sighed and sat next to you, putting a blanket over you as you fluttered your eyes shut. "Love you..." you whispered softly, and he smiled a little as his heart skipped.

"I love you too," he breathed, wondering if any of your shitty boyfriends had ever taken care of you this well when you got too drunk. You met most of your boyfriends by getting too drunk, so Neil was glad to have you safe back here at his place where nobody would do anything to you.

But he hadn't gotten up yet. He was still sitting beside you, his hand still resting on your shoulder where he'd placed the top of the blanket.

"You know, you really shouldn't drink so much..." he sighed, petting some hair out of your face as you stilled. It was sort of instinctive-- yet made his heart race-- to run his hand down lower, tickling your back and tracing your spine as he sighed. "Somebody could... get the wrong idea..."

He checked your face again, making sure you were out cold, before gingerly taking the blanket off of you again. Your dress was way, too short, he'd tried to warn you not to wear it, but you insisted on looking hot; you really should've known better, showing off your legs like that... Neil had always been obsessed with your legs, and he bit his lip when he saw how the dress had ridden up to basically just under your ass.

Tossing the blanket away, he hummed as he rubbed his hand up and down your legs, constantly checking your face nervously in case you woke up or stirred. Even if you did, you were too weak to stop him... fuck, why did that make his cock throb?

He started to open his jeans already, even though his heart raced with anxiety and shame at what he was about to do. She's passed out, she won't know the difference anyways, he thought to himself as he climbed up on the couch with you, pulling his cock out of his boxers with a little sigh. He stroked himself with one hand as he gently pushed up your dress with the other, groaning at the sight of your ass hardly covered by the lacy panties. You were obviously trying to get laid tonight, no doubt about it-- so wasn't he just giving you what you wanted?

He had to let go of his erection to tug the thin fabric down with both hands, smirking as the way your ass jiggled a bit, but then nearly gasping as he revealed the cute little pussy underneath. "F-fuck, baby," he praised with a sigh, leaning back to try to get a better view, carefully spreading your lips apart with two fingers so he could see your holes. "Fuck! That's a gorgeous pussy, wow..."

Of course you were perfect everywhere, it was just his luck: the most amazing, sexy, incredible best friend who teased him in the most infuriating ways. You'd do all these things that turned him on, trying to act innocent-- asking for his opinion on outfits, falling asleep on his shoulder during movie nights, laughing at his dumb jokes-- and then you'd turn around and fuck some jerk you met at a bar. When he gathered the nerve to say something flirty to you, you'd always giggle and push him away, saying something dismissively that always broke his heart: like "shut up, Neil, you're my best friend" or, even worse, "ew, stop, you're like my brother."

He fucking hated when you said that; it made him feel like he was cursed to have you so close but never have you, you know? But tonight, he felt like a lifetime of bad luck was paying off in the best karma ever: you were here, and you were his to play with however he wanted.

He spit into his hand and smeared it over himself, sighing as he looked down at you looking so peaceful and sweet under him. "So pretty," he cooed as he nudged your legs apart with his knees and slid inside you, "and fuck, so tight..."

He groaned deeply, watching in awe at the way your hole eagerly accepted him, swallowing up every inch that he gave it until you were stretched and filled to the brim.

"Oh my god," he gasped, taking a moment just to bask in the feeling, "fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last very long. I can already tell."

He held onto the couch tightly as he started to move, but then realized he should take the chance to touch you instead and put a hand on your hip. It helped, actually, because it kept you from rocking forward too much from his thrusts and kept his cock going as deep as possible every time.

He groaned proudly as he moved faster, squeezing your hip and keeping his eyes trained on your sweet face. "That's it," he praised, "take it, baby-- take my fucking cock."

He loved not having to impress you, or please you, or make you come-- he could just treat you like his own personal toy, your pussy basically just a fleshlight for him... if fleshlights were hot and sticky and felt like absolute fucking heaven.

Your walls tightened on him for a moment, and he moaned loudly. "So good," he choked out, shutting his eyes with pleasure briefly. "So good, baby, feels so good on my cock-- fucking perfect."

He gasped as he heard you whimper a little, and opened his eyes to look down at you. You were stirring just a bit, but your eyes were still shut. "N-Neil?" you groaned out groggily, and he should've stopped moving-- but he couldn't, he honestly couldn't. He was already so close and you were so adorable all helpless like this and he just needed to come so bad...

"Shh," he soothed, though it came out a little stuttered as his hips moved faster, slapping against your ass with the most amazing, filthy sound. "Shh, it's okay, just rest..."

"Neil," you said again, making him bear his teeth and flex his cock. He wanted to blurt it out right then and there-- yeah, baby, it's me, that's my cock inside you-- but he managed to stop himself, laying down on top of you instead as he pet your head and gave you rougher, deeper thrusts.

"Don't wake up, baby," he groaned, "I'm right here. It's okay. You can just go back to sleep."

"What... what's going on?" you asked, barely managing to open your eyes for a second... he loved the way you fought it, trying so hard to wake up, but your body was so happy to relent even if your mind resisted. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," he hissed again, "j-just stay still, I'm so close. Fuck, I'm so close-- I'm almost done, please--"

You whimpered, trying to struggle under him, and he moaned louder as it made your walls squeeze him again. "Neil, please..."

"Fuck," he grunted, "say my name again, baby-- I wanna hear you say it when I come inside you."

#dark!neil lewis x reader #dark!neil lewis smut #neil lewis dark fic #WELP.#this.

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dark-and-kawaii · 5 months ago

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but who gives the best head 👀

Me. Just kidding just kidding!!!! Hmmmmm ooooh listen, I already know who gives the best head and it’s almost tied for me soooooo I’m going to include the second one I think in my opinion would give great head!!!! And yes Astarion would give AMAZING head but listen there’s so much of him already. So *clears throat* the one who give the best head in my opinion issssssssss *drum rolls*

Warning: Mentions Of Halsin In His Bear Form

♡ Halsin definitely is number one in giving head, like there’s no way he’s not. There’s two different versions of him for crying out loud!!!

Halsin in his elven form is so precise while going down on you, it’s almost like he's taking mental notes of what you like, and is always cataloguing your moans. The way his eyes look up at you time to time from his position between your legs, and the way he smiles when you run your fingers through his hair, is enough to make you melt into his mouth.

The way Halsin’s tongue drags against your folds, and the way he presses his mouth to your core is like he's savoring your taste, and he always takes his time, never rushing things unless he’s pent up. He’ll nip at your clit, loving the way you buck for him, loves to watch you react. At times he gets a little rough of course, how could he not when you look the way you do, biting down hard on you to make you scream his name is a symphony to him, as if you’re calling out to him to take you now~.

Halsin just knows how to work his mouth against you, the flat of his tongue working over your clit with slow, long movements, or quick, short ones, alternating until your hips are jerking off whatever surface he has you on. Until your fingers are digging into his scalp, and he's chuckling against your cunt, making you shiver and groan, his eyes closing momentarily to enjoy the moment.

Halsin in his bear form is ravenous, like a starved animal, like he was made for eating you out, and always makes sure to lick every inch of you, even if you cum multiple times.

The way his large tongue drags against your folds, he acts like it’s his last drink in the world, and the way his sharp teeth lightly grazes over your skin, oh it’s enough to have you crying out, fingers digging into the fur of his neck.

But it’s not just the way his bear tongue drags against your slit and clit, oh no, it’s also the way his long tongue slides up inside you, lapping at your gummy walls and curling within you, pressing against those sweet spots of yours. Treating you like some honey pot he’s desperate to taste, desperate to eat and finish whole. It always makes you cry out for him, screaming his name, begging him to stop because you can't take any more. But he'll keep going because he knows you can take it, knows you will be so satisfied once you’re convulsing around his tongue, your walls gripping his tongue as if it were his own cock.

You aren’t getting away from this man, not until his face or fur is covered in your juices and he's satisfied with his work, knowing that you’ve cum multiple times.

♡ Zevlor is being added to this as well because I just know that man would make you feel so loved. As if you were the only one in the world. His horns scrapping against your thighs would feel so good~ they wouldn’t ever hurt you because the man takes his time licking at your folds. His tongue pumping in and out of you with such care, it almost feels as if his tongue is dancing within you. The way he makes you shiver with delight, hells this man knows what he’s doing.

Since it’s been so long for him as well he’ll take extra time and care to make sure he tastes every part of you, and the way he gives your sensitive little clit a kiss before gently biting down on it <333 Zevlor, it almost makes it seem like he’s worshipping your body.

On special nights he’ll feel a little bold and add his tail to the mix, allowing himself to enjoy the way you moan his name as it flickers against your bud while his tongue soaks up your arousal deep from within your folds. He just adores the way you grip at his horns, and the way your back arches off the surface, it makes him feel so alive and like he’s doing something right. Beyond happy he can satisfy your needs and will always do whatever he can to make sure you cum.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #zevlor #halsin silverbough #halsin bg3 #bg3 halsin #halsin x reader #zevlor bg3 #bg3 zevlor #zevlor nation #bg3 smut

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ziggyzolch · 8 months ago

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Queen Bee-atch Ⅴ (Regina George x Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of eating disorders (bulimia) but no explicit description of it.

✮✮✮

"No! Of course I'm not on board." Being zoned out for most of the week, you hadn't been listening to Janis' rambling, so you had no idea of her plan for Cady. Sighing, Janis sets her guitar to the side. "Dude, we've been talking about this plan for weeks, your opinion won't stop it." Damien chimes in from his place at your desk, "Yeah girl, Regina needs to be humbled. If anything, we're helping her."

You invited your friends over the second you got home from Regina's, with the intention of having a jam sesh, until you heard Damien bring up the next step of their sabotage plan. You roll your eyes at Janis' nodding, getting up from the floor. "No, this is insane. Regina doesn't need to be 'humbled'." Cady peaks her head out of your bathroom, your mascara in her hand, "Yes she does! She was about to steal Aaron away from me."

Your eyes bulge out of your head, "Are you fucking serious? That's what this is about?" Janis rolls her eyes at you, "You know what this is about. She made our lives a living hell in freshman year!" You scoff, shaking your head and taking your guitar from her, "Wow, people think you're a pyromaniac. Boohoo." Janis stands up and pushes your shoulders, making you drop your guitar,

"Regina treated me like shit!"

You push her back, "Me too! You don't see me overreacting about it!"

"This," She shoves you, "Is not an overreaction. You didn't even know her! She was my best friend! Becoming an antisocial bulimic bitch is an overreaction." The silence that follows is deafening.

Tears well up in your eyes, "Fuck you, Janis. You're a hypocrite, you're all hypocrites!"

You point at Cady, "You're literally dressed like a plastic right now. Also, you ditched me when I was blackout drunk, for a boy that you barely just met!" Turning your gaze towards Damien and Janis, "You guys don't sit alone because everybody hates you. You hate everybody! You are no different from Regina, you just hide it better."

"You hate everyone too!" Janis retorts, while Damien and Cady look at each other awkwardly. "Maybe, but I don't seek petty revenge on everyone that's ever wronged me! You don't think I hate Regina for what she's done?" You sit down on the ground, calming down. "I do, but making her miserable won't make me any happier, and it won't make you happier either." Janis sighs, taking a seat next to you, Cady and Damien following.

"Fine, we won't do it, but we can't take back what we've already done." Janis slaps Cady in warning. You raise an eyebrow, "What's that supposed to mean?" Damien sighs, "We may have...been responsible for her recent weight gain and pimples." You groan, falling backwards and laying down on the floor, "You guys are horrible. At least you can start sitting with us again, Cady...Cady?" You all turn to her as she looks up from her phone, "I just need one more day."

✮✮✮

It's been a couple of minutes since English class started. You were assigned to finish up the book report, so it was basically a free period. Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you slam your laptop closed.

"Uh, what were you doing?" You turn towards Regina, noting that she's wearing sweatpants, "Watching porn..?" She takes her seat, raising an eyebrow at you. You stare at her while she slowly drags your laptop towards her, opening it and turning it on.

Papa's pizzeria pops up on your screen. "In what world would watching porn be a better explanation than playing a game?" Regina looks at you in disbelief. "I panicked! I thought you were the teacher." She huffs out a laugh and pulls out her notebook while you take your laptop back. Regina turns to you, opens her mouth, then closes it and turns back to her notebook.

You ignore it, but after she does it for the fourth time you decide to ask,

"Are you having a stroke-"

She interrupts, "I'm sorry!"

The class goes quiet, curious at what she could possibly be apologizing for. "Oh, uh. We don't have to talk about that." You scratch the back of your neck. She sighs and moves her chair to face you. "No, we do." You pinch the bridge of your nose before standing up and grabbing her arm, ignoring the teacher's objections and dragging her out of class. "Regina, we were young and stupid, it's fine."

Her face contorts in anger, "It's not! I was horrible to you, more than I was to anyone else. You didn't deserve that," She looks you up and down, "I shouldn't have made you feel like you needed to change anything about yourself."

You were speechless, Janis would never believe this. "Thank you, really, but I'm just one person out of hundreds that you've been horrible to. Why are you so worried about my opinion specifically?" She sputters while you raise your eyebrows at her, waiting for a reply. She rolls her eyes and drags you to the janitor's closet. Her eyes dart around the room, looking at everything except you. "I like you."

Your expression remains unchanged, "Uh okay, I like you too, you've been a good friend- Oh." Your eyes widen in realization. Regina panics at your silence and attempts to backtrack, "Oh, pfft, yeah that's what I meant! Friends, you're a good friend- mph!" You press your lips to hers, wrapping your arms around her neck.

After the initial shock, Regina relaxes into the kiss and places her hands on your waist, pushing you against the wall. The bell stops Regina's wandering hands, and you push her away, catching your breath. "This talk isn't over, Blondie." Regina smiles at you, "Come over today, we can talk all night long, puppy." You blush at the nickname and innuendo, lightly shoving her when she laughs. "Stop! Look, Janice has an art competition tonight. Can you come with me? You're gonna have to apologize to her too."

Regina shakes her head in disgust before you add, "I'll come over after and we can have that 'talk'-"

"I'll come!"

✮✮✮

Gretchen was pissed. Regina had blown her off for you, ditched her and Karen at a party for you, and walked out the janitor's closet with you! For her to have the audacity to try and sit at their table, in sweatpants, after all of that.

"Those rules are bullshit-"

Karen jumps in, "They weren't that day I wore a vest!"

"Yeah because that vest was hideous!"

"You can't sit with us!" The cafeteria goes quiet at Gretchen's screech. You, Janis, and Damien turn to face the commotion. "These are all that fit me right now," You can make out Regina admitting quietly. Gretchen turns to Cady, waiting for her decision. Your eyes bulge out of your head when you hear Cady's answer. Turning to Janis and Damien, you ask,

"Does she know the plan is off? Did she not hear anything we said?"

"She does! I don't know why she's acting like this." Janis replies,

Your jaw goes slack, "You literally made her like this."

"Look, maybe this is just a one time thing!"

The conversation is interrupted by Regina yelling, "Take a picture, it'll last longer." Your heart breaks for her, you make a mental note to talk to Regina. Trying to defuse the awkwardness, Damien brings up Janis's art competition. "Look, Cady promised she'd be there. We can talk to her about this then!" You scoff, "Yeah, we'll see."

✮✮✮

A/N: I couldn't fit the Christmas dance thing in so i worked around it. Also, I don't really know how to reply to them but I promise I check all the reblogs and comments and I appreciate them. Thank you for reading!

#regina george x reader #regina george imagine #mean girls imagines #mean girls 2024 #fanfic #wlw #regina george #mean girls #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #regina george x you #mean girls the musical #regina george is a lesbian #wlw fiction #regina george icons #x reader

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imaginesbymonika · 3 months ago

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LOML- loss of my life | Part 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Plot: You knew him at a time when he didn't, and now he is looking for you...

Warnings: depiction of violence, angst, mentions of (perhaps) death, angst, fluff at the end (maybe), takes place after TFATWS

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Bucky couldn’t possibly open up to Sam about his nightmares. Let alone tell him about her. How would he explain anything to him if he didn’t even manage to remember her name or what she looked like? He furrows his eyebrows. Y/e/ced eyes. Yes, that’s it. Your y/e/ced eyes looked up at him with an emotion he couldn’t quite place- one he rarely got to see.

They remained on him for a short moment before you turned to look at one of the guards. Pierce and the others had left by now, leaving you alone with The Winter Soldier and one single bodyguard- which was truly a joke. One gun wouldn’t be anywhere enough to stop The Winter Soldier if he decided to launch at you.

But Hydra wasn’t a caring employment agency. They couldn’t care less whether you lived or died. In the morning if they would stumble upon your lifeless body, they would burn it and toss your remaining ashes into the trash. Then they would just go out to abduct the next doctor. You softly scoffed at the thought and turned around:” Can you please bring me my bag?”

The guard merely nodded at you, and for a moment, he turned his back on the two of you. However, as you perked up at The Winter Soldier, you didn’t feel any kind of fear. Maybe you had already given up on your life, who knew?

“Here.”, the guard let out and tossed the bag on a table. “Rude much?”, you whispered underneath your breath before standing up and walking towards it.

“Okay.”, you declared as you walked back to him with a bottle of sterilizer and a handful of cotton pads:” I am not going to lie to you, this will probably sting- a lot. You have a few mildly concerning cuts and a few stitches up that got infected.” A sigh left your lips:” I don’t know which of the other doctors did such an awful job, but I’m going to fix them, okay?”

The Winter Soldier observed you carefully and tilted his head at your movements. “Please, remember I am not trying to hurt you. I am here to help.”, you whispered and leaned down again, putting some of the brownish liquid on the white cotton:” Are you ready?” No one had ever asked for his opinion before.

Then he nodded.

It took you roughly 8 Minutes to clean every cut on his exposed torso, and once you were done you leaned back:” Okay, great. None of these have to be stitched up.” Your hand moved softly over his arm, and he flinched when it came in contact with one of the scrapes.

“Shit, sorry.”, you got up and made your way over to your bag. Your gaze drifted to the guard, who was waiting for you to finish so The Winter Soldier could be thrown back into his cell again. You have never seen the cell but you can only guess that, if anything it’s dark and cold in there.

You turn back to the man with the lengthy hair and bite your lips while holding a couple of bandages in your hands: ”I’m almost done. I promise.”

You quickly made your way back to him to put them on before you ultimately looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”, you whispered, trying your best to make it seem like you were not saying a single word:” I’m so sorry for the way these people are treating you. If anything I believe that there is still good in you, at least somewhere. That deep down you’re a good man, used to fighting a war you’re not interested in. I-.”

„You’re aware that you can tell me anything, right?“, Sam‘s voice cuts straight through the fog. Bucky only exhaled deeply before he leaned back in his chair outside Sam‘s house.

The weather is nice and he shuts his eyes for a few seconds while facing the sun, how he treasures the warmth on his skin- her warm hand on his cheek was an extraordinary contrast to the coldness of the room, and he would have leaned into it if it wasn’t for the guard ripping you off of him, and throwing your body onto the dirty tiles. He-

„Last week, when we were having dinner you called me a friend in front of Sarah, and you know what friends do.“, Sam lets out, and even though his voice has a playfulness to it, there is a layer of concern in it.

Bucky rolls his eyes:“ Are you implying that I lied to your sister?“ „I don’t know. Did you?“ „I would never lie to your sister. She means too much to me.“, Bucky winks at Sam before bringing the beer bottle up to his lips again, and a chuckle escapes his lips once he sees the look on his friend's face.

#angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #the winter solider imagine #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier #marvel x reader #marvel

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inmyheaddd · 10 days ago

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✦ nobody gets me, you do - averyjameson

a/n: wooo games untold release day!!! the first part of this is so silly help i love max summary: avery has the worst interview in the world, with constant interruptions and snide comments. jameson is watching it from home, (along with his brothers, max, and lyra) and finds himself going to see avery, despite her team telling him no. wc: 2.4k

max was watching her best friends interview live on her phone, sitting in her boyfriends bed.

she could read her like an open book, and could tell something was definitely wrong.

“xander,” she called out the boy next to her who was solving a 9x9 rubix cube leisurely, laying on his back with his hands up in the air. “are you seeing this? look what they’re doing to my girl avery.”

xander sat up, and watched for a few seconds. to xander, she looked how she did the first time he ever saw her: scared, uncomfortable, but trying to put on a brave face.

after just two seconds, he called out at the top of his lungs: “jamesoooonnnn.”

no response.

max pulled xander out of the room — much to his dismay, and finally spotted jameson in one of the libraries.

she barely got a word in before jamesons eyes flickered to her phone that was still playing the interview. his brows furrowed, ��you’re watching the interview too?”

“…of course i am,” she deadpanned, “i’m literally avery’s girlfriend.

xander raised a brow from beside max, and jameson and him shared a confused look. “oh… right.” jameson said as he nodded slowly.

“yeah…!” xander added. “how could i forget?...” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head as his eyes flickered between jameson and max.

“you guys are weird…” max trailed off, confused at their strange reactions, when she said something so completely normal in her opinion.

“but look!” she exclaimed, “she literally looks so… uncomfortable. in their right mind allowed this interviewer to have a job?” she said, as the two brothers looked at the tiny screen on her phone showing avery’s interview live.

they quickly ditched watching it on the phone, because jameson suggested they watch it on the large tv in one of their living rooms.

max rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounded like, “of course you’d suggest that.” but nodded anyway as the three made their way to the nearest living room.

avery shifted in her seat slightly, her smile just a little off and strained as the interviewer asked another prying question.

“so, how does it feel to have your entire life handed to you on a silver platter- or shall i say, gold?” the audience laughed at the last line. his tone was light, but the implications were hard to miss.

avery smiled, like landon had rehearsed with her, trying to maintain her composure.

“who the hell is this guy?” jameson scoffed, “seriously?” he stood up from the couch they were sitting on and ran a hand through his hair.

“i wouldn’t exactly describe it that way,” she responded far too fast, so she went to correct herself— otherwise she wouldn’t her the end of it from her team. “but i’m endlessly grateful for all the opportunities i have, and for all the experiences.” she said with a smile that looked a little too sweet and practiced, that it made jameson sick.

the interviewer leaned forward, a cruel smirk on his face that made avery want to grimace. “oh?” he challenged, “so you’re saying the billion-dollar inheritance didn’t change your life overnight?”

xanders usual playful grin was gone as he muttered, “avery looks like she’s about to walk out.”

“she should.” jameson was now pacing in front of the TV, unable to stand still any longer. “if i’d been there—”

“but you’re not,” grayson said calmly, standing beside another couch that lyra was sitting on. “she’ll handle it.”

lyra had heard everyone in the room a few minutes earlier, and suggested her and grayson go see what was going on.

jameson’s eyes focused laser sharp on the tv once again as he heard the interviewer mention his name, before turning back to look at grayson.

“she shouldn’t have to handle it, grayson.” his voice cracked with frustration.

her heart raced, but she managed a small laugh. “i think anyone’s life would change with something like that. my life has changed a great ordeal, but it’s more complicated than—”

“and what about your relationship with jameson hawthorne?” he interrupted, not caring for a single word she had to say. “was that part of the package deal?”

the live audience laughed, and avery just smiled politely, frustration flashing behind her eyes that only the people closest to her could spot.

grayson was going to say something to calm his brother down, but didn’t get the chance to.

“oh, this guy is a fucking comedian, isn’t he?” jameson ran another frustrated hand through his hair, chuckling lowly as he exhaled. “i’m getting him fired— bankrupt for gods sake.”

he knew how snobby-privileged-rich-kid he sounded even to his own ears, but he didn’t care.

“yeah,” lyra chimed in, who rarely ever agreed with jameson. “i’m with you on that one.”

jameson shook his head, letting out a blow of air that it almost sounded like a whistle, “goddamnit, i don’t care, i’m going. her team and the paparazzi can go to hell for all i care.”

he turned off the tv, he couldn’t bear to see avery uncomfortable for another second.

nash stood leaning against the wall, sending a slight nod to jameson. “you need a ride?” he asked, alluding to the motorcycle jameson loves to use when he needs to blow off steam.

with no complaints from nash, jameson knew that he was doing the right thing.

he muttered something under his breath along the lines of: “too dangerous,” and shook his head. and with that, he made his way to the stairs.

everyone shared confused glances — jameson hawthorne, saying something was too dangerous? something has seriously changed.

“is it just me… or is jameson being weirdly responsible right now.” xander muttered as he looked at the turned off tv infront of him.

grayson and lyra shared a look that communicated the message; ‘…he’s still not responsible.’ but didn’t say anything.

max nodded at xander in agreement. “it’s the avery effect.” she stated matter-of-factly. “i don’t know about you, but whenever i’m around her i feel like… woah, i just want to be a better person, you know?”

xander thought about it for a moment with his hand on his chin, and then nodded ,like max had said something profound.

he looked up at her, and then they both nodded in sync, sharing a high five.

nash, who was still standing leaned against the wall, stifled a laugh, shaking his head in amusement before walking out of the living room.

he was definitely going to be mentioning the “avery effect” to libby later.

—

avery sighed as she finally got in the dressing room, leaning her head back on the door and shutting her eyes.

she got to go home in half an hour now, finally.

atleast she was done with that interview.

she walked away from the door, slumping in her chair as she brought her hands to her face, looking into the large hollywood style mirror infront of her.

she was hyper-aware of everything around her—the feeling of her clothes scratching against her skin, the way her makeup suddenly felt heavy on her face, the ache in her cheeks from smiling, and the slight tremor in her hands.

avery re-enacted the smiles she gave throughout the interview, wondering if they looked too fake, if she needs to start tweaking them, and overthinking just about every small detail.

5 minutes had passed, and she was still staring into the mirror.

surely this wasn’t healthy, but she stayed practicing the answers she gave, sighing in defeat when she remembered how people would take it as snappy and defensive.

god, she wouldn’t have wished that interview from hell on her worst enemy.

her reflection started to look weird to herself, but she kept practicing the right way to smile, to not look fake.

suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and her attention was diverted from the mirror for the first time in 10 minutes.

“yeah, come in!” she called out quietly, eyes fixated on the door, nervous to see who it was.

hair and makeup? someone from her team already there to scold her? or god forbid, the interviewer— her thoughts were all silenced when she saw pair of familiar green eyes.

“jameson,” she breathed out, “what are you doing here?”

his hair was a tad messier than usual, and his eyes seemed panicked as he looked around the room, until they finally met hers.

he shut the door behind him and locked it all in one swift movement and walked over to her, standing behind her chair she was sitting on.

his hands found her shoulders, but she stood up and turned around, meeting him face to face.

“heiress,” he put his calmest voice on as his hands found their way to the sides of her face. “i was watching— we were watching the interview at home.” his eyes flickered between hers, “are you alright?”

she smiled a little, letting out an exhale. “yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” she shook her head in an attempt to portray she was confused.

it was slightly difficult for her to act like she was perfectly fine, when she had spent the last 20 minutes doing nothing but overthink.

he brought her out of her thoughts once again. “avery.”

“what?”

“i saw the look on your face— you may be a good bluffer, but not with your emotions. not with me, atleast.”

unfortunately for avery, jameson could see what she was feeling when she tried her hardest to hide it, even from her own self.

she sighed, trying to shrug it off. “jameson, it’s just one interview. they ask questions like that all the time—it’s part of the job.”

“i don’t care if it’s part of the job. you never asked for this.” his voice was hard-edged, his hands moving down her shoulders, then down to her hands. “you looked uncomfortable, avery. you shouldn’t have to be fine with that.”

“i was managing it,” she countered, tilting her head up to look at him, trying to ease the tension. “that’s what i’m supposed to do.”

her hands fiddled with his fingers with a mind of their own. it was a tell tale sign she was holding her feelings back. jameson knew it better than anyone.

“and that’s the problem.” he didn’t speak to her condescendingly, or in any way that was trying to belittle her. he was just worried.

he simply cared, and it made avery’s heart soar.

“they’re counting on you to just handle it every single time, like it doesn’t get to you.” his voice was low, “you shouldn’t act okay with it just because it’s easier. it’s not right.”

she wanted to prove that she was okay, that she wasn’t bothered, and that he didn’t have to worry about her, but she couldn’t, because then she’d be lying.

she let out a small sigh of defeat, “you’re right, jameson.” she shook her head, “i know… i just— i don’t want you to worry about me, or anyone to worry about me.”

“tough luck.” he replied, voice low but unwavering as his eyes searched hers.

she opened her mouth to argue, but his hand gently brushed a stray piece of hair from her face, and the words seemed to fade.

“its the worst thing in the world, seeing the hurt on your face. i hate it.” avery looked down, but he tilted her chin back up. “and,” he murmured, “i hate the people inferior who project their own problems onto you, because they feel like they can, even more.”

avery couldn’t argue with the rest of what he said, but she needed to say something.

“no one’s inferior to me.” she mumbled

“please,” jameson said with a deep chuckle, “i could name quite a few.” he said. “for starters, that interviewer—“

avery cut jameson off with a light laugh, a sound that made jameson feel like the sun was shining down just for them two.

his eyes flickered all around her face, his own smile growing as he committed the picture to memory. “he was the worst. am i wrong? tell me i’m wrong.” he teased, selfishly wanting more laughter out of avery because he loved it so much.

she shook her head vigorously, “no,” she laughed, “god, no. he was the worst. i hate that idiot.”

jameson let out another one of his bigger chuckles, “keep going,” he joked, “there’s my heiress.”

avery rolled her eyes jokingly, feeling the last of her worry fade away. “i wanted to punch him square in the face,” she said, and jameson rose his brows in amusement and nodded enthusiastically.

she continued, “but that doesn’t matter anymore, because you’re here now, and that’s more important.”

he let out a breath, his shoulders loosing the last of their tension. “is that so?” he murmured, his hand slipping around her waist, pulling her a bit closer.

“yeah, it is.” and before he could protest or mention anything about her emotions any longer, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

he melted into her, arms wrapping around her fully, and tighter. she felt like she could stay in his arms for all eternity as she put her arms around his neck.

the kiss was brief, reassuring, but enough to melt away the last traces of his worry.

when she pulled back, jameson was looking at her with softness in his eyes— one rarely seen by others, but always seen by her.

his thumb brushed over her cheek, and his eyes travelled her face all over. he looked deep in thought, and avery could sense a question was stirring.

“heiress?”

she hummed, “yes, jamie?”

“you know, i never mean to be,” he hesitated slightly, “overbearing, or controlling, i just…” he paused, pressing his lips together in a line as he racked his brain for the right words.

“yeah, i know, jamie.” she nodded slightly with her hand brushing the sides of his face, understanding what he couldn’t verbalize.

his hand held her hand that was on his face, and moved it back down.

both their hands were locked together now, and jameson rested his forehead on hers gently.

avery was so sure he would lean in for another kiss, perhaps one less tentative, now that she could see the tension had dissolved from his shoulders.

she let herself relax, realizing that she stopped fidgeting with jameson’s hands a while ago.

he brought her so much peace without even trying. she wondered if she ever did the same for him— and then jameson broke the silence.

“i’m still getting him fired, by the way.”

avery laughed quietly, almost scoffing in amusement. she bit back her smile as she shook her head, taking a slight step back, hands still intertwined. “of course you are.”

“for you, heiress?” his cheshire grin slowly returned, reeling her back in close. he shrugged, “i’d do much worse.”

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable

@anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07

@midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear

@clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams

@hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus

#the inheritance games #avery kylie grambs #jameson hawthorne #avery grambs #averyjameson #the grandest game #games untold #grayson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne #tig #tgg #avery x jameson #❦ jude writes

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moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown · 3 months ago

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As much as I hated the Lila/five pairing just on character stand points and the fact five and Lila would honestly never do that to Diego, like come on, but like if Ritu Arya was looking at me and laughing like she did in the like montage of them moving through the timelines and was trying to make the best of it by being excited about gumballs, I would end up falling in love with her just as fast as five did. Like we would all fold and fall in love with her in like .2 seconds. And don’t you even try to deny it, look at this beautiful woman and tell me you wouldn’t be heart eyes at her

Now my opinions on how they could have done their whole thing below:

Do I wish they had made it a ‘brother-sister companionship, as two people who truly get what the other has been through and are each others wobbly support system’ yes that would have been amazing, maybe give five a long term girlfriend in the 6 years, one who he’s having trouble connecting with because he’s been through 3 end of the worlds and 45 years alone and then the commission stuff. And in the 7 years Lila and five are trying to get home, they both connect with the other on how they feel about it all and five helps Lila understand Diego more by explaining why he is the way he is, and Lila helps five understand how to open up to his partner, and sure if you want them to kiss for whatever reason, make it like a

“Yeah that was weird right? I thought it was like a thing we had but yeah let’s never speak of this, and we do not tell Diego, I don’t need him trying to stab you” and then have a lil laugh session. And maybe five hides the notebook cause he kind of likes the life in the greenhouse but the fight is more

“I have children who need me! You have a girlfriend who loves you! We have to try.” And five being so tired of the running to save the world gets on the train, goes home but as they blink to the house five wants to go back to that peaceful world, of no running of safety in a bubble. The whole explanation of they were lost for 7 years happens, five maybe is still a bit of a dick because like emotions and things. We learn what’s happening with Ben and Jennifer.

The whole store fight happens

Maybe he takes his partner maybe he doesn’t but he ends up blinking back to the subway platform again and then we get the meeting with the other fives, we understand that the end has to be a full sacrifice of the siblings.

Five returns to the hotel, and everything continues, Lila and fives partner go to the subway, but both of them get off at the last minute. And five finds them and his partner who has been with the siblings this whole time or most of the time just shrugs cause five is what she wants and she doesn’t wanna be in a timeline unable to remember him, idk you can make something up but they all go back to the hotel, and the ending happens, but five holds his partners hand and she just smiles at him as they are erased from everything, and yeah would it be a little odd? Sure.

But it would be better then what they ended up doing which was five hurts his brother and dies feeling alone and used.

They could have had five and Lila end up romantic but turned it into something different. And they realize it’s not a thing they ever wanted really it’s more they were stuck together for so long emotions got a little hazy.

Give five someone, but don’t give him someone who is already someone else’s entire heart.

Diego and Lila have 3 kids together *4 if you count Stanley as a figurative son*

Five deserved his own person, like Luther deserved to have sloane, and Allison deserved to have Ray, Viktor deserved more time with sissy, and Klaus with Dave. You don’t have to pass one around to the others just because she’s still there. You can give us a new person for five. It’s not even the weirdest thing this show has ever done -Klaus having a cult cough cough-

They had a way to do this, and they just picked the worst timeline train to stop on.

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #adian gallagher #lila hargreeves #diego hargreeves #lila pitts #the brellies #brellies #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #season 4 #tua s4 #tua season 4 #umbrella acedmy #viktor hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #sloane hargreeves #luther hargreeves

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lesbianpepsi · 1 year ago

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'Cause I'm a jealous, jealous, jealous girl

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!reader

Summary: A visit to the doctors was only supposed to bring good health, not jealousy.

Warnings: dislocated ankle, tripping, swearing, jealous tara...?, bad writing, not proof-read

Words: 6.634k (ik.)

A/N: i fucking suck at summary's. but on a happier note i've finished all my exams, yay. my enthusiasm can clearly be detected. my first shift at a new job is tomorrow and i am shitting dicks from nerves, it's at a icecream shop but that doesn't make me less nervous rvkjnoxnoa. anyway, hope you enjoy this!!<33

part II

“It cannot be topped. The Babadook is top tier and nothing will change my mind.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your head to look at Tara, raising your eyebrows slightly. “You’re such a snob when it comes to horror it’s unreal.” Tara gave you a fake hurt look at your comment, you could tell she’s faking it since the girl has a small smile on her pink lips.

“How am I a snob just because I enjoy horror movies that aren’t teens getting killed at a camp that has some cheesy name like ‘Camp Cover.’”

“Don’t you dare disrespect Friday the Thirteenth or Sleepaway Camp like that!”

Throughout your and Tara’s walk around Central Park the topic of horror movies has been one the two of you debating on. You taking the side of defending slashers meanwhile Tara taking the side that elevated horror is much better.

Did you expect your peaceful walk with your crush best friend would turn into a horror movie debate? No, but it didn’t surprise you either. In fact horror is what made you and Tara even become friends.

You had been at a party and after a while it had died down and you ended up with a group of people sitting in the living room putting on a horror movie. After a few arguments on what to put on everyone decided to simply put on the latest Halloween movie, Halloween Ends.

You weren’t particularly enjoying the film much and ended up chatting with a girl named Anika while the movie played. At the halfway mark of the movie a poor drunken soul asked a question that ended up turning into a full on debate in the group.

“Who would win in a fight, Micheal or Jason?”

Almost immediately after the person uttered those words people started voicing their opinions.

“Micheal obviously, he’s been in the game longer than Jason.”

“Micheal. Literally nothing kills him meanwhile Jason has been killed a shit ton of times.”

“Jason is a mommy’s boy who didn’t even show up till the second movie. Definitely Micheal.”

You were alarmed with the amount of comments made slamming Jason, so naturally you went to defend him. Your strongest argument was the fact Jason was factually stronger than Micheal, something everyone had to accept.

“Sure Micheal did crush someone's skull with his boot in the twenty eighteen Halloween, but in Jason Takes Manhattan Jason literally punched a guy's head off. Jason would destroy Micheal.”

You knew you were on the right side since even horror nerd Mindy agreed with you before going on a much longer speech.

Not long after Mindy had finished her speech most had either gotten bored and left or decided to head home anyway. but a small group of you still stayed to finish the movie, one of those people being Tara.

“I bet Mindy’s glad somebody else agreed with her.” Was the first words Tara ever said to you. To which you replied with. “I’m just surprised how many people underestimate Jason.”

And the rest is history.

You became closer with Tara and all of her friends and after a few months even snagged the ‘best friend’ title, but it only took you a few weeks for Tara to snag the ‘crush’ title for you, something you’d take to the grave.

On this particular sunny day Tara has begged you to join her for a walk, in the beginning you declined since it’s boiling and would’ve much preferred to stay inside in your room reading. Unfortunately for you, you and Tara both know you can’t say no to her.

That’s how you and Tara ended up walking around Central Park talking about random things until the topic of horror movies came up.

Tara rolled her eyes as she shook her head in amusement, staring up at you as the two of you walked. “Alright then, what’s your top three horror movies then?” She questioned with a raised eyebrow, her smile turning into a playful one.

“Easy. You’re Next, My Bloody Valentine and,” You pursed your lips as you tried to think of your third favourite names such as Bride of Chucky, Ready or Not, Stab, Evil Dead, Halloween, Friday the Thirteenth swirled in your mind until one particular movie landed in your mind.

“Hush.” You finally added with a confident smile, taking a few extra steps in front of Tara as you turned your entire body to face her, walking backwards. “You’re Next has one of the best female leads who fights fucking back and even kills the douchebag brother with a blender. Iconic. My Bloody Valentine is easily one of the best horror movies that came out in the eighties, tied with Sleepaway Camp and The Thing. For the eighties the gore is insanely well done and its plot and acting is just spectacular.”

You took a second to catch your breath before you began to talk about your final favourite horror movie.

“Hush is one of the most underrated horror movies in history, don’t even try to change my opinion on that.” Tara lets out a small giggle that makes your heart skip a beat at the angelic sound. “Its plot is downright scary and the acting by Kate Siegel is truly out of this world for this role of Maddie. An intense movie that in my opinion was one of the best one of that year.”

As you carried on talking the more engorged you got into the topic meaning you simply got even more excited like a puppy getting a treat. Your smile at its best as you walked with a slight bounce, your eyes focused on Tara’s dark chocolate brown ones.

“Honourable mentions are definitely the classics such as Halloween, Stab, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Friday the Thirteenth and Nightmare on Elm Street. Without a doubt each movie holds one of the most infamous horror villains ever made. Micheal Myers, Ghostface, Leatherface, Jason Voorhees and Freddy Kruger. Even if you don’t like horror you still would know those names.”

Just as you finished your sentence you went to turn back around to actually look where you’re walking, you spun around quickly as you tried taking a step forward. Apparently your pain couldn’t handle the simple task which inevitably ended up with you falling to the ground, landing on your ankle funny.

You groaned as you could feel the harsh pain in your left ankle already, looking down at your legs before you turned to look for Tara who is crouched next to you already, a worried look on her face.

“Are you alright?” She asked in a rushed tone as she looked you up and down, a small frown tugging at her lips. The small crease between her brows told you she’s worried, one hand behind your neck and the other on your side confirming that thought.

You give a stiff nod as you push yourself up with your arms, biting at your bottom lip to not let out a strangled yell at the pain radiating from your ankle at the movement. “Peachy.” You mumbled through clenched teeth as you give her a non-convincing smile.

The brunette gives you a ‘are you being serious’ look as she swiftly moves one of her hands to grab yours, the feeling of her hand in yours erupting butterflies to go off in your stomach.

Not the time to have a gay panic, you mentally yell at yourself.

“It’s just a scrape, Tar.” You reassured as you manoeuvred your right leg to try to stand up, Tara swiftly stood up herself as her grip on your hand only tightened. The second you moved your left foot the pain increased, you bit at your bottom lip roughly to stop yourself from screaming.

Deciding to simply fight through the pain you placed your right foot flatly on the ground, ready to stand up. You look at Tara who looked down at you with an even more worried expression than before.

“Help me up?” You asked which she did, she began pulling you up slowly until you had to place your left foot flat on the ground to stand up, deciding to bite the bullet your roughly moved your foot to place it flat.

The second you felt your left foot make contact with the ground you stood up quickly, tears swelling up in your eyes at the immense pain radiating from your ankle.

“Y/n I don’t think it’s just a scrape.” The worried Tara announced as she took a step closer to you and placed a hand on your shoulder comfortingly.

You smiled softly at her as you shook your head ‘no’. “Alright then a bruise, which is still manageable.” Tara gave you a pointed look as she gazed into your eyes, her soft dark brown eyes making your knees feel weak.

“I don’t believe you.” She states.

“I’m fine. I swear, T.” You replied as you squeezed her hand in reassurances, trying to ignore the horrible pain in your ankle. You didn’t want to worry the girl even further.

The smaller girl insists on a silent staring content as she challenges you, if you back down that means she’s right and you’re wrong, if she backs down that means she’ll drop it for now. Your gaze never breaks as your eyes bore into hers, an eyebrow raised challengingly.

Tara shows no sign of backing down either with her own brows raised as she stares at you, her lips pulled into a straight tight line. The deadpan glare really reminding you of Sam.

The pain from the ankle radiated higher up the leg with much more fierce pain which forced you to hold back a whimper at the pain, at the feeling of pain you relent and back down from the contest, breaking eye contact first.

“Fine, you win.” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest like a child losing a game. Tara’s grins smugly as she sticks out her tongue to get all the glory possibly at the small win. “I knew I’d win.” Tara says her tone dripping with smugness, oh the things you’d do to wipe that grin off her face.

Luckily you didn’t have to do anything since Tara’s eyes suddenly widened as if she just remembered why she was competing in the first place. “Shit your leg.” She mumbles mostly to herself as the worried look replaces the one of victory.

The brunette glances around the park and notices a bench not too far away from you two. You watch as she mutely nodded her head to herself as she planned a plan in her mind, her head turning back towards you a few moments later.

“I’m gonna carry you to the bench and then I’ll check your ankle.” Tara explained as she took a few short steps closer until she’s invading your personal space. You give the Carpenter girl an amused smile. “Okay then Doctor Carpenter how are you planning to carry me over when I’m literally taller than you.”

“I could carry you if I wanted to.” She remarks as an offended look appears on her face, her own arms folding over her stomach. You rolled your eyes as you let out a huff, without much more explanation you wrapped an arm around Tara’s shoulder, pulling her in.

Ignoring the sudden warmth you feel in your cheeks you raise your left foot off the ground, using Tara to lean on. “C’mon,” You mumble as you begin to hop forward with your right foot. Tara immediately complies and begins walking with you, her own arm tightly wrapped around your waist, her free hand raised to hold your hand which dangled off her shoulder, something that most definitely didn’t help the blush on your cheeks.

Damn your gayness.

After a handful of grunts, a few stops and a thousand “Are you okay?” from Tara the two of you reached the bench, Tara making sure to lower you down slowly.

Sitting down you could feel the throbbing pain in your ankle as if it had another heartbeat there. Clenching your jaw you look at Tara who is kneeling in front of you, one hand on your calf and the other near your left foot.

“I’m going to take off your shoe okay, I promise I’ll try my best not to hurt you.” Tara affirmed softly as her eyes gazed up into yours not trusting your voice you gave her a curt nod signalling her to go ahead.

As she untied your shoe laces you began to loathe your past self for deciding to wear converses. Every small movement she did the pain only intensified making you flinch or let out a pained moan.

“Sorry,” Tara apologised as she began to take off the shoe. The throbbing pain in your ankle only got worse, you raised your hand and bit at your knuckle harshly as Tara kept apologising as she took the shoe off.

The second your foot was without a shoe you could feel a slight relief but the pain didn’t change much. “Jesus Christ.” Tara gasped as her delicate fingers gently wrapped around your calf. You let out a humourless chuckle as you looked down at Tara and your swollen ankle. Your ankle had already began to swollen as a nasty dark purple began tainting the skin around it, you grimaced at the sight of your fucked up ankle.

“Maybe it isn’t that bad?”

_________

“-severely dislocated ankle.”

So it was as bad as it looked.

You sighed as you glanced over at Tara who is standing next to you paying much more to what the nurse said than you. Her worried look hadn’t slipped away for a second ever since Sam dropped you two off at the hospital, in fact you’d say it’s probably even gotten worse.

The older Carpenter sister couldn’t come in with you two since she had a shift at the bar she worked at.

“You’ll be given crutches to help you keep weight off the ankle as well as an ankle brace that you’ll have to wear for a few weeks. Medication will also need to be taken three times a day with each meal.” The nurse listed off in the most montoned voice you’d ever hear, seriously, it competes with Arnold Schwarzenegger in the Terminator.

You nod your head weakly as Tara nods her head curtly, an appreciative smile forming on her lips. “I’ll make sure she takes them, thank you.”

The nurse mumbles something under her lips before turning to glare at you, her blue dull eyes void of any emotion. “The doctor will be here in a minute to give you some painkillers to ease the pain.”

“Okay, thanks.” You replied with a small smile, the old nurse glare got even colder before she abruptly turned her back and walked away. You sigh dramatically as you lean your head even further on the thin hospital pillows, looking over at Tara who’s already right by your side.

“I can’t believe you got so excited over horror movies you sprained your ankle, that is more nerdy than Mindy.” She teased in a playful tone as she slightly leaned on the side railings of the bed, her eyes focused on your face. You could tell she’s trying her best to try to find humour in the situation rather than turning into a worried mess.

You let out a laugh of disbelief at that smirk toying at your lips. “I could’ve cosplayed as Jason and broken my arm over getting so excited and that still wouldn’t be enough to beat Mindy.” You retort in the same playful tone as you pushed yourself further up on the bed, flinching at the pain radiating from your ankle at the movement.

“Once you’ve gotten your painkillers we can leave, we’ll just stop by my apartment so I can get a few things then go to yours.” Tara declared as her hand moved to lay on top of yours, her warm hand warming up your cold one.

You tilted your head to the side like a confused puppy at her words. “What do you need from your apartment?” You asked, flipping your hand over so you could lace your fingers with Tara’s.

Tara’s eyes averted from yours and flickered down to your linked hands, the tip of her ears turning red at the contact, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope at her reaction. The brunette stared at your hands for a few moments as if she had completely forgotten you asked her a question.

You smirked as you gave her hand a squeeze making her eyes snap back to yours straightaway with an embarrassed smile on her face as she let out a dry cough. “What?” She stuttered out.

“What do you need from your apartment?” You repeated for her sake, the smirk never leaving your lips. “To get some spare clothes, charger, headphones and my spare inhaler.”

“I already have a spare inhaler at my apartment.” You say right after she mentioned the spare inhaler. Tara’s eyes softened even more at that, her nervous smile turning back into that sweet smile that made your heart beat increase.

Something you became incredibly aware of as the monitor to your heart started becoming louder and more frequent.

“Really?” She asks as her eyes flicker over to the monitor before coming back to you. You nodded your head. “Yeah just in case of an emergency or you’d forgotten yours at home.” You answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Before Tara could reply, heavy footsteps are heard walking towards the two of you, both of you snapped your head towards the noise and that’s where you see the second most gorgeous human being on earth.

(Tara obviously being first)

The doctor had long black hair that reached a few inches below her shoulders, her eyes a dark brown colour that almost looked black. The woman looks around thirty years old, one or two barely noticeable wrinkles on her face. With or without she had your gay heart speeding at the sight of her.

She strutted closer to the two of you with a warm smile on her lips with a clipboard in the clutches of her right hand. “Y/n L/n?” The doctor asked in a raspy voice that told you she’s most definitely smoked a handful of times in her life, the thought somehow made the woman even hotter to you.

“Yes.” You stuttered out, starstruck at the pure beauty of this woman. She flashed a grin as she started to prepare the IV for you. “I’m Doctor Edwards and I’m going to give you some painkillers to ease the pain, is that okay with you?” She confirmed which you could only dumbly nod at.

The older woman let out a low laugh at your reaction which made heat rise to your cheeks at the sound. Jesus who knew older women had such an effect on you?

A tight grip on your hand made you let out a low whine as you turned to look to your side to see a not so happy looking Tara Carpenter. Her smile had completely vanished and her soft looking lips pulled into a tight line.

“You okay?” You whispered to Tara bringing her glaring eyes away from the doctor and to look at you. She replied in a curt nod as her features slightly softened at the sight of you.

Before you could reply you felt a cold hand graze across your elbow, firm fingers taking a tight yet somehow soft grip on it. You turned to look back at the Doctor Edwards who is now closer as she prepared to insert the needle attached to the IV full of fentanyl in you.

“This might feel a bit uncomfortable honey.” She told you as her eyes glanced towards yours, your heart monitor frantically picking up at the fact this practical milf just called you ‘honey’. The dark haired woman smiled reassuringly at you as she positioned the needle at the top of your forearm. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Okay, thank you.” You croaked out as the grip in your and Tara’s interlocked hands got even tighter. This time you squeezed back as you felt the needle start to stab into your skin, you’d never been a fan of needles.

“You’re doing so good for me honey.” Doctor Edwards encouraged in a honey sweet voice that would attract bees.

God is she trying to kill me, you thought to yourself.

After a few seconds you could feel something flow into your body which made you grimace at the feeling before you eventually relaxed as the pain instantly started to calm down in your ankle.

“All done.” You turned back to look at the doctor who took a step back moving to grab her clipboard and scribbled a few things down on the paper. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to see how you are and then you’ll be good to go.”

“Thank you so much.” You replied as you gave her a smile, the painkillers coursing through your veins soothing you. She looked at Tara and gave the grumpy looking girl a smile before she took off to deal with other patients.

You sighed in relief.

“So unprofessional.” Tara mumbled next to you in a low voice.

Your brows furrowed together as you turned to look at her, that annoyed look still on her face. “How was she unprofessional? She was lovely and gave me sweet drugs to ease the pain, what’s not to love about her?” You defend as you look at her.

Tara scoffed as she dropped your grip and crossed her arms over her chest like an angry toddler being told ‘no’. “She was flirting with you. She’s the doctor and you’re the patient, that’s beyond unprofessional.” Tara argued back, dropping to sit down on the small one person blue chair next to your hospital bed.

You could already begin to feel the effects of the painkillers, must’ve been a high dosage, you thought. You cocked your head to the side as a teasing smile complimented on your lips. “If she was then I might ask for her number before we leave.”

“No!” Tara said a bit too loudly making you let out a giggle. Damn, how strong was the dosage?

“Why not? She’s the first woman in months to actually flirt with me.” You retorted as Tara’s stare hardened as her eyes glazed over to the doctor a few beds down talking to another patient in a leg cast.

Tara looked back over at you as she tried to think of a suitable reason why you should reject the apparent flirting doctor. You smirked as the silence filled up between Tara and you telling you that Tara didn’t have a solid reason for you to not ask the doctor out.

Your eyes slowly averted to the older woman who had a soothing smile on her lips as she talked to her patient, you could tell she actually cared for the people rather than just taking the job for money.

“I just don’t think you’d be a great match that’s all.” Tara’s voice piped up resulting in your eyes glancing back over to the sour looking girl. The strong painkillers already having an effect on you, boosting your confidence and lowering your care as a teasing smile emerges on your face.

“You didn’t even speak to her, how could you tell she isn’t good enough for me?” You pressed, wanting to get a bigger reaction from her. You’re no Emily Prentiss at reading people but even you suspect that Tara Carpenter seemed a little bit jealous.

The thought egged you on to try to get the green eyed monster to erupt in hopes of the girl maybe actually doing something rather than sit there seething with jealousy.

Tara shrugged her shoulders as she bit the inside of her cheek, a bad habit you’ve noticed she keeps doing when she’s either annoyed or stressed. She doesn’t give you a verbal answer as her eyes refuse to make contact with yours.

“Alright then,” You begin as your eyes gaze into Tara’s side profile, she glaring at the innocent wall rather than looking at you. “If she isn’t a good match for me, who would be then?”

“Anyone else.” Tara replied swiftly as her eyes maintained on the wall.

You nodded your head weakly to yourself, the teasing smirk still on your lips. “Anyone else?” You repeat her words as she hummed in agreement. “So do you think Quinn would be a good match for me then? Quinn has great humour, she’s a part of the friend group so you can trust her and she definitely knows how to please someone in bed.”

Tara still refused to look at you as she spat out her answer. “Quinn is a heartbreaker and prefers to have flings rather than stay in a relationship.”

“No Doctor Edwards and no Quinn, how about Sam then.” Tara’s head snapped to glare at you in such a fast movement it looked like she could get whiplash from it. She shook her head curtly. “No.” Is all she says in a low voice.

You let out a laugh as mischievousness swirled in your eyes as they locked with Tara’s dark brown ones. You bit at your lower lip for a second before speaking.

“Well who then? You?”

The annoyed glare on Tara’s face dropped as a stunned one supplanted it. Her eyes widened as her once tightly pulled together lips now relaxed, her dark chocolate eyes melting as they didn’t tear away from yours. A scarlet red hue of a blush accompanied her cheeks the longer you gazed into each other's eyes.

A lazy smile complimented your lips as you raised your eyebrows at the girl, silently asking her ‘Well?’. Tara stayed quiet. She didn’t nod her head, she didn’t shake her head either. All she did was gaze at you and your lazy grin.

Her mouth opened but no words were uttered, she looked like she’s mimicking a fish. Tara shut her mouth back closed and stayed like that for a few moments before she opened her mouth again, more prepared to say something this time.

“Are the painkillers working, Y/n?” Doctor Edwards interrupted as she appeared from thin air, standing next to Tara whose glare instantly focused on the doctor. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle at Tara’s pissed off look as you turned to look at the older woman.

You smile loosely as you give an awkward thumbs up to her. “Superb, doc, now I understand why people like them so much.” She chuckled as she nodded her head stepping closer as she pulled the IV needle from your forearm, a small dot of blood appearing at where the needle once was.

You stared in awe as she moved to grab a cotton ball from her trey of medicine on the other side of the bed, pressing the ball against the blood before she taped it there with medical tape that made sure it stayed there.

She smiled kindly at you before she checked your vitals quickly, once done she took a few steps back to get a good view of you. “You’re good to go, Y/n. I’ll write you a prescription for your medicine and get you your crutches and then you can leave.”

You sighed in relief as you nodded your head giving her a thankful smile. “Thank you, I’m pretty sure you saved my life.”

She shook her head as a raspy laugh escaped the older woman’s lips. “I think that’s a little bit over the top but either way it was my pleasure.” Before you could reply a cough is heard from next to you.

You turn to look at Tara who is now standing up and much, much closer to you now. A fake sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face as she looks over at the doctor, her hand on your shoulder.

“Thanks for all your help doc but we should really get back home and make some dinner.” Tara says in an even more sweet voice that you just know is fake. Your eyes avert back to the doctor who has a smile on her lips as she looks between you and Tara.

She hums as she takes a singular step back. “Don’t worry honey I know you two just want to get home and get into bed together and sleep after such a stressful day. I’ll be back shortly with the crutches and prescription.” She promises as she turns on her heels and exits the room to do what she just said.

“Bitch.” Tara grumbled next to you as she glared at the woman walking away. Her fake smile vanished into thin air. You roll your eyes as you carefully push yourself to the edge of your bed, stiffly moving your legs off of the bed.

“There’s no signal inside the hospital. Do you wanna go outside and call Sam? She’s probably finishing her shift around now since we’ve been here for hours.” You asked her, as you moved your left leg back and forth steadily, sighing at not feeling much pain anymore due to the painkillers.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a second. Do not leave this bed.” Tara demands with a threatening point of her index finger that simply makes you giggle, raising your hands up with a goofy grin on your face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Tara stares at you for a few moments before she hurriedly walks out of the room, taking her phone out of her pocket and already trying to call Sam. You didn’t look away at her retreating figure until she was fully out of your view, only then turning your head away.

“She has to be jealous, there’s no other explanation for her behaviour.” You tell yourself as you observe the seat Tara was sitting in a few minutes ago.

“Oh she’s practically the green eyed monster honey.” A voice says from behind you.

You jumped as you snapped your head to look in the direction of the voice to see Doctor Edwards standing there holding crutches and a small slip of paper. You sighed dramatically as you dropped your head.

“How the fuck do you move around so quietly? You’re like a cat.” The woman chuckles as she walks in front of you presenting you the crutches. You smile weakly at her as you take them, quickly putting your arms through the holes and gripping the grey handle.

Slowly, you push yourself up until you’re fully standing up, your left foot hovering off the ground as you bend your knee. “The older I get the quieter my steps become.” She replies stretching her arms to your sides ready to catch you in case you’d fall.

You smile bashfully at her as you steadied your stance. “Well you don’t look a day over twenty five.” You compliment her, your voice coming out much stronger and confident that you anticipated.

These painkillers are really having a toll on me.

“I think the drugs are really starting to hit you now, sugar.” She says as if she heard your thoughts, her eyes glanced away from yours to behind you for a second before they smoothly returned to yours.

The older woman leans closer until her mouth is not too far away from your ear, in a whisper she says. “Tell her the truth.” You quickly put the pieces together and guess what she’s talking about. “What if she doesn’t like me back?” You questioned worriedly in a whisper.

She lets out a low chuckle as she pulls away looking behind you once again but for longer this time. “I know the look of love as well as I know the look of jealousy, dear.” You turn to look at what the older woman is already glancing at; not surprisingly you see a proper pissed off looking Tara near the doorway.

You smile happily at Tara as you retrieve the prescription from the doctor’s hand, gripping it in your non-dominant hand. Glancing back at the woman she steps aside gifting you a soft smile. You wordlessly nod at her before wobbling over to Tara, grunting at every hop you took with the crutches.

Tara snaps out of glaring and briskly makes her way over to help you, that gorgeous smile not showing on her face.

“Sam will be here any minute.” Tara confirmed as she took the slip of paper from your clutches to give you more of an advantage. You mutely nod your head at her words.

__________

By the time you and Tara left the hospital, having to take one too many stops since you were struggling with the uncomfortable clutches as you felt more and more tired with every passing moment, Sam is already there in her car.

The car ride to the Carpenter’s apartment was filled with low music from the radio and no small talk being made. You sat in the back with your crutches while Tara and Sam were in the front. You took that time to check your socials and ramble to Mindy about your massive gay panic at the hospital.

Before you know it you’ve stopped at the Carpenter’s household and now just arrived at your apartment complex. Flinging the car door open, you grunt as you lean out of the car putting on the crutches, Tara somehow appears in front of you and guides you to stand up with much less of a struggle.

You give Sam a wave and a smile as you hop over the driver’s side window where Sam has rolled down the window. “Thanks for the lift, Sammy.” You mumble tiredly to which Sam rolled her eyes at.

“Don’t call me that.” The older Carpenter sister grumbles in her usual grumpy tone. You grin lazily as you take a small step backwards. “You know you love it.”

“I don’t. I hate it as much as I hate you.” Sam said as she shifted the gear stick as she started to drive off. “Love you too, Sammy!” You yell as she drives off, giggling like a child when Sam’s hand emerges from the window flipping you off.

“Let’s get inside.” The tired Tara says from behind you, her hand pressed against your back gently. You turn to look at her letting out another weak chuckle. “Please.”

Tara smiles softly at you as she begins walking by your side into the apartment complex. Taking the elevator, the two of you staying in silence the entire journey until you both arrive at your apartment, Tara unlocks the door with her spare key and walks in first flicking on the lights as she holds the door open for you.

You smile appreciatively to Tara as you wobble over to your bedroom, desperate to get to your bed. Tara closes the front door before she follows you into your bedroom, dropping her blue backpack on the floor outside your bedroom before entering.

“Oh sweet bed how I have missed you.” You murmured against the pillows your face dug deep inside of them, your forgotten crutches thrown on the floor beside your bed. You feel a dip in the bed at the side of your head, you roll over to lay on your back as you look at Tara sitting beside your head.

“You can’t sleep in those, Y/n, you need to change out of your jeans.” She reminds you in a knowing tone causing you to let out a loud groan, covering your face with your hands. “But I just sat down.” You say in a muffled voice behind your hands.

Tara laughs sweetly as you feel her weight move off of the bed, her footsteps telling you she’s headed towards your dresser. Peeking through the crack of your hands you see her pull out your favourite pyjamas.

Is it completely childish? Yes. Do you care? Not at all.

The brunette pulled out your deadpool pyjamas, the set being your all time favourite piece of sleep clothing. She throws it over at you before heading towards the door, leaning against it as she turns to look at you once again.

“If you need help just yell my name.” She offers before silently leaving and closing your door quietly. You sighed as you sat up grabbing the clothes that landed on your lap.

You took your time changing into the pyjamas. Taking off your shirt and bra and replacing them with the red oversized deadpool shirt took a few seconds at most. The real challenge being taking off the thick long grey boot on your leg foot before slowly shuffling out of your jeans and into the sweats.

Once changed and the brace back on you move to lay back down on your bed, your eyes fighting the urge to shut with every passing second. Right as when you start to feel yourself drift off to sleep a knock is heard at your door.

“Y/n? You good?” Tara’s muffled voice is heard through the door.

You smile as you nod your head as if she can see you. “Yeah you can come in if you want.” Tara quickly takes up on that offer and re-enters your room with a small smile on her face as she walks over to you.

She had also changed into her pyjamas which consisted of an old shirt she stole from you which practically devoured the girl’s figure. You couldn’t help but grin at the sight of her in your clothing.

“How’re you feeling now?” Tara asks as she sits down near your head once again, you look up at the sitting girl with a smile.

“You never answered my question.” You tell her, completely ignoring her question. The Carpenter sister faintly cocks her head to the side with confusion clear in her eyes. “If you’d be a good match for me.” You add as you blink slowly at her.

Tara’s breath hitches. Her eyes averted from yours to look at the doorway. “Do you still feel high from the painkillers?” She questions back.

You giggle as you nodded your head, raising your hand and hovering your index finger over your thumb. “Just a tiny bit.” Tara scoffed a laugh as she nodded her own head weakly, finally looking back into your eyes with hers.

“Then you probably won’t remember this in the morning then.” She mumbles mostly to herself with a smile. Tara sighs as she leans down to give a soft kiss to your forehead, your ears burn at the feeling as butterflies erupt in your stomach at the feeling of Tara’s unbelievably soft lips.

“If you remember that in the morning I’ll tell you.” She whispers against your temple before she pulls away, making you frown. Tara gets up from the bed and retreats back to the door making you even more confused.

As if reading your thoughts Tara leans against the doorway, the light from behind her shining around her figure. “I’m sleeping on the couch tonight and don’t even bother trying to make me sleep in your bed since you need the space with the brace.”

You let out a huff at that, not agreeing with Tara’s words at all. You hear her chuckle as she pushes herself off the doorway. “Goodnight, Y/n.” She says.

“I’ll remember in the morning.” You say confidently as you lay your head back down on the pillow, your eyes lingering on Tara still in the doorway. “I hope so.” Tara whispers before exiting the room and closing the door shut silently.

“Me too.”

_____________________________________

A/N: part 2 anyone?👀

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #scream #scream six #scream five #my fanfic #fanfic #fluff #humour #jealousy #jenna ortega x reader

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