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novaursa · 4 months ago

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Where Dragons Dare (2/3)

- Summary: After your declaration to marry Alicent in the small council meeting, the day of the wedding finally comes. And so does your first wedding night.

- Paring: male!targ reader/Alicent Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is twin brother of Rhaenyra and is bonded with a dragon. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @literaturedog

- A/N: This was requested by @witch-of-letters. Enjoy! ❤️ Battle of the Stepstones is add as a bonus, because I love writing dragon battles. The last part will be posted later tomorrow once it is done.

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: 3

The grand hall of the Red Keep is awash with the glow of thousands of candles. The flames dance across golden tapestries depicting the histories of Old Valyria, but today the storied past pales in comparison to the momentous occasion unfolding before all in attendance. The wedding is one spoken of in whispers and rumors, but now it blooms before the gathered lords and ladies with all the splendor and gravitas worthy of House Targaryen.

You stand at the altar draped in black and red, the rich silk of your doublet catching the light in subtle ways. The fine Valyrian embroidery at the hems speaks of dragons in flight, each thread imbued with dark crimson that shimmers like fresh blood. A black cloak, edged in deep scarlet, flows from your shoulders, fastened at your throat with a clasp shaped like a coiled dragon. Your hair, the silvery-white of pure Valyrian descent, is tied back, letting your angular features and sharp violet eyes take in every gaze, every emotion displayed openly or hidden away. At your side hangs Blackfyre—your birthright as Prince of Dragonstone—its pommel set with a ruby that gleams like a beating heart.

Before you, Alicent Hightower stands radiant in a gown of deep emerald green. The dress, fitted perfectly to her frame, billows out in layers of silk and fine lace, each shimmering with golden accents as she moves. A delicate crown of silver leaves and pearls rests atop her auburn hair, carefully arranged in elegant curls. Her eyes, a brilliant shade of brown, reflect a mixture of pride, joy, and the quiet steel she’s honed under the pressures of courtly life. There is a softness in her gaze, however, reserved only for you as her eyes meet yours—a silent understanding, a shared relief, and a promise of what is to come.

The Septon's voice rings out, leading the words of the traditional vows. Beside you, Rhaenyra is practically glowing with excitement. Her smile is unrestrained, her eyes darting between you and Alicent with genuine happiness, a sister’s joy at seeing her twin brother embrace his own fate. She wears a gown of pale red, adorned with the colors of House Targaryen and a crown of silver atop her flowing locks, her presence radiating confidence as the heir’s sister and a firm ally to your cause.

King Viserys is seated in a place of honor, his face full of warmth and pride. His smile is wide as he watches his only son wed the woman who has become a daughter to him over the years. He has the contented look of a father who finally sees his children happy, a rare expression in a court filled with ambition and schemes. He lifts his cup in a subtle toast to you and Alicent, his eyes misting over slightly with emotion.

Daemon Targaryen, your uncle, stands near the rear of the gathered nobles, his silver hair catching the light as he observes the ceremony. His expression is inscrutable, but those who know him well enough can see the slight curve at the edge of his lips, the way his gaze sharpens whenever it falls upon you. For all his unpredictability, there is a flicker of pride there—a satisfaction, perhaps, that you finally asserted yourself against the forces that sought to control you. Daemon has always favored those who carve their own path, and today you have done just that.

As the ceremony draws to a close, you step forward to place a cloak upon Alicent’s shoulders, the symbol of House Targaryen enveloping her as you claim her as your own. The green of House Hightower blends now with the red and black of the dragon, a union that cements alliances but more importantly binds two hearts that have long yearned for this day. When you lean in to kiss her, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way her lips meet yours, and the hall erupts in applause, though the world shrinks to just the two of you in that fleeting moment.

As the applause dies down, Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, watches with a carefully controlled expression. His eyes flicker between you and Alicent, a mixture of satisfaction and unease buried beneath his calm demeanor. Though this is a victory for him in securing his daughter’s position, there’s a tension in his jaw—he had hoped to control this outcome more closely, but you’ve slipped from his grasp, a dragon untamed. He studies you with the gaze of a man who sees both a rival and a dangerous ally.

At the feast, Rhaenyra approaches you first, practically throwing herself into your arms. "You did it, Y/N! I knew you would," she beams, her joy infectious. "Alicent looks so beautiful, and you—you were magnificent. I’ve never seen the council so speechless!" Her eyes sparkle with mischief. "And Uncle Daemon, I think he’s actually proud of you for once."

You chuckle, wrapping an arm around your sister. “He probably is. But I didn’t do this for him or the council. This was always for her.” Your gaze drifts back to Alicent, who’s engaged in conversation with a group of highborn ladies, her laughter soft and genuine.

Viserys claps a hand on your shoulder. "You’ve brought honor to our house, Y/N. I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become. Your mother would be so proud, too." His voice carries a slight tremor as he mentions Queen Aemma, but it is quickly overshadowed by his joy.

You offer him a warm smile. "Thank you, father. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that this union strengthens our house."

Daemon is the next to approach, a goblet in hand and that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "I didn’t think you had it in you, nephew," he says, voice laced with amusement. "I was beginning to think you’d let others chart your course forever. But you’ve surprised us all, haven’t you?"

You meet his gaze squarely, your own smile more restrained but no less confident. "Some paths are worth fighting for, uncle. Even if they’re not what others expect."

Daemon raises his cup in a mock salute. “Spoken like a true Targaryen. Perhaps there’s more fire in you than I thought.”

The feast carries on with music, laughter, and the clinking of cups. You and Alicent share dances with the lords and ladies of the realm, but every now and then, your eyes find each other’s, and the world falls away again, leaving just the two of you in this sea of people.

When you finally manage to steal a private moment with her in a quiet corner of the hall, she takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “I was so afraid,” she admits in a hushed voice, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “Afraid that we’d never be able to reach this moment. But here we are.”

You brush a strand of hair from her face, letting your hand linger against her cheek. “You’re mine now, Alicent. I’ll fight for you, for us, against anyone who tries to tear us apart.”

A flicker of relief passes through her expression, followed by a warmth that softens her usually reserved emotions. “And I’ll stand by you, no matter the storm we face.”

The words hang between you like an unspoken vow—one more binding than anything recited before the Septon.

The night deepens as the feast continues, a blur of music and the warm glow of candlelight reflecting off the ornate dishes piled with food. Laughter and the sound of clinking goblets fill the Great Hall. You and Alicent sit side by side at the high table, your hands occasionally brushing against each other beneath the table. The touch is small, but each time it happens, there’s a comforting warmth, a silent reassurance between the two of you. Alicent’s soft smile, reserved just for you, never quite fades from her lips.

As you’re enjoying a brief moment of quiet conversation, the sound of footsteps approaches. Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s brother, strides up, his eyes bright with joy. "Sister! Y/N!" he greets, his voice tinged with the exuberance of youth. His resemblance to Alicent is striking, though his features are more angular, his posture that of a man eager to prove himself. "I couldn’t let the night end without offering my congratulations." He gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder, his grin broad. "It’s about time someone put a spark in this old court! You’ve done well, my friend. I’ve known you since we were boys, and I’ve always believed you’d find your way."

You return his grin, reaching out to clasp his forearm in the familiar gesture of comrades. "Gwayne, your support has never gone unnoticed. I’ve always valued your friendship, even when we got ourselves into trouble as children. But I think this time, we’ve both stepped into something greater than mischief.”

Gwayne chuckles. “You certainly have, Y/N. And Alicent—” He turns to his sister, his tone softening with genuine affection. “I’ve never seen you look happier. I’m glad you’ve found this happiness, even if I’ll be the one who has to keep a closer eye on courtly matters with you from now on.”

Alicent smiles warmly at her brother, her hand gently resting over yours atop the table. “Thank you, Gwayne. Your words mean more to me than you know. And don’t worry, we’ll both make sure to keep you busy in your duties, though perhaps with fewer pranks than when we were children.”

The three of you share a laugh, the ease of old friendships and sibling bonds lightening the mood.

Soon after, the familiar figures of Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys approach. The Sea Snake is every bit the powerful figure one expects, his deep blue doublet adorned with intricate silver embroidery resembling the waves of the sea. Rhaenys is resplendent in crimson and gold, her presence commanding yet warm. There’s a certain wisdom in her gaze as she looks between you and Alicent, as if she sees beyond what most do.

“Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent,” Corlys begins, his voice deep and steady. “Congratulations are in order. The union of Targaryen and Hightower is a strategic move, and one I hope will bring stability to the realm. But more than that, it’s clear to see the bond you share.” His eyes linger on you, a hint of approval in his expression. “And perhaps this is the start of a new chapter where the young find their own path amidst the expectations of the old.”

Princess Rhaenys nods, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “It is good to see love and strength walk hand in hand. The history of our houses has often been marked by conflict, but this—” she gestures subtly between you and Alicent, “—this has the potential to change much. You both carry the future on your shoulders now.”

You bow your head slightly in respect. “Thank you, Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys. Your wisdom is always welcome. I hope to earn that respect in time and prove that this union is more than just a political move.”

Rhaenys’ eyes glint with something sharp and approving. “Oh, I believe you will, Y/N. The blood of Old Valyria runs deep, and you’ve shown you’re willing to chart your own course. I, for one, look forward to seeing what comes next.”

As they step away, Lord Tyland Lannister, clad in rich reds and golds, approaches next. His sharp features and keen eyes give away his nature as a man ever mindful of the shifting tides of power. “Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent, it is a joyous day indeed.” His voice is smooth, practiced, yet there’s an undercurrent of genuine intent behind his words. “House Lannister is ever eager to lend its support to the Targaryen line. May your union be fruitful and prosperous. It seems the dragons have found a way to blend strength with the grace of the Reach.”

You nod, ever cautious with Tyland’s honeyed words. “Thank you, Lord Tyland. Your support will be remembered, and I hope our alliance will benefit all corners of the realm.”

He offers a slight bow before moving off, ever mindful of where the winds blow.

The feast begins to wind down, and as tradition demands, there is the looming expectation of the bedding ceremony. The air in the hall thickens with the anticipation of it. Some lords and ladies begin to gather, murmuring and glancing toward you and Alicent with barely hidden excitement. The tension, the ribald jokes, the whispers—it all threatens to reduce the sanctity of this moment to a spectacle.

Before anyone can make a move to initiate it, you rise to your feet, the air of command in your posture silencing the crowd before the teasing can begin. “There will be no bedding ceremony tonight,” you declare, your voice clear and firm, leaving no room for argument. The hall quiets instantly, the murmur of protests caught in the throats of those who thought to see the night end in such a manner.

Daemon, standing with arms crossed at the edge of the hall, lets out a low chuckle, his approval evident in the sharp nod he gives you. “Let the young prince make his own choices,” he says, his voice carrying across the room. “There’s enough spectacle in these halls without turning the most sacred of nights into another charade.”

The crowd hesitates, unsure whether to push the matter. But when you meet your father’s gaze, Viserys nods slowly, an expression of both surprise and respect on his face. Otto Hightower, who had been watching with tension in his eyes, finally relaxes, a subtle sigh escaping him. His face settles into an expression that resembles something close to approval, a rare look from a man who values tradition and order above all.

Alicent looks at you with deep gratitude and admiration, her fingers squeezing yours as she stands. You turn to her, your expression softening as you offer her your arm. “Shall we retire, my lady?” you ask, your voice laced with tenderness.

She dips her head slightly, eyes shimmering with emotion. “Let’s,” she replies, her voice barely more than a whisper as she takes your arm.

Together, you walk down the long aisle toward the doors leading out of the Great Hall, every eye on you both as you leave. There is a certain weight lifted from your shoulders as the doors close behind you, the noise of the hall fading as you enter the quieter, more intimate corridors of the Keep.

As you walk side by side toward your chambers, the echoes of your footsteps and the distant flicker of torchlight create an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Neither of you speaks, the silence between you comfortable, filled with the knowledge that this is just the beginning. When you reach the doors to your shared chambers, you pause, turning to face her fully. You lift her hand to your lips and press a soft kiss to her knuckles, your eyes never leaving hers.

“No more performances,” you murmur. “This is just us now.”

Alicent’s eyes shine as she steps closer, her other hand rising to rest against your cheek. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to be with you, like this, away from prying eyes.”

With that, you open the door and guide her inside, the world outside forgotten as the heavy oak doors close behind you both, sealing away the courtly intrigue and the expectations of the realm. In this moment, it’s just you and her, bound together by choice, love, and a shared determination to forge your own destiny.

The chamber is bathed in the soft light of the fire, shadows flickering across the stone walls as the door closes behind you both. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable but full with the awareness of what comes next. For all the warmth you share, the affection that’s blossomed over years of quiet moments and unspoken glances, this is new for both of you. The air is tinged with the sweet fragrance of candles, the soft rustle of fabric as you both stand there, suddenly unsure how to proceed.

You turn to face her, meeting Alicent’s gaze. There’s a nervousness in her eyes, a slight quiver in her breath, but beneath it lies trust, and something more—desire, hesitant but real. You step closer, reaching out to take her hands in yours, your thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gentle, soothing motion. “Alicent,” you murmur, your voice softer than usual, tinged with both affection and concern. “Are you sure? If you’re not ready—”

“I am,” she interrupts softly, her voice a tender whisper in the quiet of the room. Her cheeks flush pink, but her eyes never leave yours. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

You nod, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Slowly, you lean down, capturing her lips in a kiss, tender and delicate. Her lips are warm against yours, the kiss a gentle exploration rather than a fervent rush. You both linger in the simplicity of it, letting it ease the tension from your bodies. When you pull back, you see her chest rise and fall as she steadies her breath, her eyes searching yours for reassurance.

Your hand moves to the clasp of her dress, fingers hesitating for a moment before you look at her once more. “May I?” you ask softly.

She nods, her voice catching slightly. “Yes… I want you to.”

With careful fingers, you undo the clasp and let the fabric slip from her shoulders, revealing the pale skin beneath. The dress pools at her feet, and she stands before you in just her shift, delicate and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker down, shyly avoiding your gaze as you take her in. In turn, she reaches out, her hands trembling slightly as she begins to unlace your doublet. There’s an unspoken agreement between you—a mutual understanding that this moment is as much about trust as it is about desire. You help her with the laces, guiding her hands until your clothing is cast aside, leaving you both bare in the warm glow of the fire.

For a long moment, you simply stand there, your breaths mingling, your eyes tracing the curves and lines of each other’s bodies. There’s a sense of curiosity mixed with reverence, your gazes shyly meeting before drifting again, both of you learning and memorizing the sight of each other.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. Alicent’s breath hitches at the word, her eyes shining as she looks up at you, her lips parting as if to say something, but words fail her. Instead, she just reaches out, fingers brushing over your chest, her touch sending a shiver through you.

You gently take her hand and guide her toward the bed, the furs soft beneath your feet as you lead her down onto the mattress. You lay her down with the utmost care, your eyes never leaving hers, searching for any sign of discomfort. Her lips part as she draws in a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but her gaze is steady, trusting.

You lower yourself beside her, your hand caressing her cheek as you lean in to kiss her again. This time, the kiss is deeper, a gradual melding of lips as you both begin to relax into each other. Your hand trails down, brushing against her collarbone, then lower, until it rests just above her breast. You pause, your eyes flicking to hers for permission, and when she nods slightly, you continue, cupping her breast gently, your thumb brushing over the soft skin. A soft gasp escapes her lips, her back arching slightly as you explore her.

“You’re so beautiful, Alicent,” you murmur against her lips, and she responds with a soft sigh, her hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer.

Your kisses begin to wander, trailing down her jawline, to the tender skin of her neck. You feel her pulse quicken under your lips, her breath growing more uneven as you move lower. When your mouth finds her breast, she gasps, her fingers threading through your hair. You take your time, savoring each reaction, each soft sound she makes as your lips and tongue explore her.

As you move lower, her breath catches, her fingers tightening in your hair when you kiss the curve of her hip. You glance up at her, seeing the mixture of nerves and anticipation in her eyes. She’s never experienced anything like this, and neither have you—not truly. But you remember the lessons Daemon half-teased, half-instructed you on during that one visit to the brothel, showing you the ways of pleasure in a more practical, if unconventional, manner. While you hadn’t partaken that night, you watched, curious, and the knowledge lingers now, guiding your movements.

You press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, and she lets out a soft whimper, her fingers clutching at the furs beneath her. You murmur a line from an old Valyrian poem, the words ancient and filled with meaning, letting the sounds roll off your tongue as your kisses grow more intimate. “Gevives isse tolvie jelevre—beauty in every breath,” you whisper, your breath warm against her skin.

When your mouth finally finds her core, she gasps, her body tensing for a moment before she melts into the sensation, her hips shifting instinctively toward you. Her breath comes in shallow bursts, her hand gripping your shoulder as you apply what you’ve learned, taking your time, listening to the way her body responds. When she lets out a soft moan, her voice trembling with pleasure, you smile against her, murmuring another line from the poem—words of love and devotion that have been passed down through generations.

Slowly, you trail your kisses back up her body, feeling her trembling beneath you. Her hands reach for you, pulling you close, and when your lips find hers again, the kiss is hungry, filled with the taste of her desire and the passion that’s been building between you both.

You position yourself above her, your eyes locked on hers as you ask one last time, “Are you sure, Alicent?”

Her response is a breathless nod, her hand cupping your cheek as she whispers, “I want this. I want you.”

You enter her gently, inch by inch, mindful of her innocence, watching her every expression for any sign of pain. She winces slightly at first, her brow furrowing, but her fingers dig into your back, holding you close as she adjusts. When she finally opens her eyes again, there’s no hesitation, only trust. “Move,” she breathes, her voice barely audible, but full of need.

You start slowly, each movement careful, deliberate, letting her body adjust, her warmth enveloping you. Her breaths come out in soft, quick bursts, her nails dragging lightly across your skin as she holds on to you. The tension in her body gradually gives way to something else, her hips meeting yours in a rhythm that’s both instinctive and hesitant.

As the moments pass, the awkwardness gives way to a deeper connection. The tenderness remains, but passion begins to take root. Alicent’s breath hitches when she wraps her legs around your waist, her hands pulling you closer. You respond to her need, moving with more urgency as she finds her own rhythm, her body moving against yours in a dance that’s both new and timeless.

When she pushes herself up, shifting into your lap, there’s a sudden surge of boldness in her gaze, something wild and free. You guide her movements, your hands steadying her as she takes control, her breathless gasps mingling with your own. The intimacy between you grows not just in the physical connection but in the way you respond to each other’s needs, desires, and unspoken fears. It’s a union forged in trust, love, and the desire to explore the depths of what you share.

Eventually, when the night reaches its quiet peak, you collapse together into the furs, breathless and spent, your limbs entangled as you hold her close. Here, in this moment, there’s only the warmth of her skin against yours, the sound of her steadying breaths, and the knowledge that this is only the beginning of your shared life together.

As sleep slowly claims you both, you press a final kiss to her forehead, murmuring words of love in Valyrian, promising her with every breath that this night is just the start of what you’ll build together.

The sky is a bruised shade of twilight, thick with smoke and ash. The stench of blood, sweat, and salt fills the air as the waves crash against the jagged rocks of the Stepstones. This place is a wasteland—a battlefield stained with the bodies of the dead and dying. For over two years, the Crabfeeder’s men have held these islands, turning them into a butcher’s yard. But today, you intend to end it. Today, the dragons return in fire and fury.

You sit atop Dallax, your black-scaled beast, perched on a ridge overlooking the main encampment of the Triarchy’s forces. His green eyes gleam in the dim light, and his body shifts restlessly beneath you, eager to unleash his wrath. His teeth, hidden within the dark flesh of his jaws, retract only when his rage is stoked—a menace lying in wait. You run a gloved hand along his neck, feeling the raw power coiled within him. “Soon,” you whisper, your voice firm yet laced with anticipation. “We will end this.”

Below, Daemon Targaryen plays his part to perfection. Clad in soot-streaked armor, a white banner clutched in one hand, he approaches the enemy lines. The Crabfeeder’s forces, a mix of hardened sellswords and conscripts, watch from behind their sharpened stakes and crude fortifications, unsure whether this is truly surrender or another of Daemon’s ruses. The Prince of the City moves with a calculated slowness, his steps deliberate, his head lowered just enough to give the impression of defeat. But you know him better. There’s a fire in his eyes—a fury barely contained behind that facade of submission. The plan hinges on this moment, on the Crabfeeder’s arrogance and greed.

From your vantage point, you spot Lord Corlys Velaryon’s forces hidden in the shallows, ready to pounce the moment the trap is sprung. The Sea Snake commands his men with a veteran’s precision, their silence a stark contrast to the braying jeers coming from the Crabfeeder’s ranks.

Daemon finally stops, mere feet from the Crabfeeder’s line, where a grotesque figure emerges from the shadows. Drahar, the Crabfeeder, is a ghastly sight, his face hidden behind a cracked and twisted mask, his skin mottled from disease. He raises a hand, halting the jeers, and for a moment, silence reigns.

Then, chaos erupts.

Daemon’s false surrender is cast aside as he draws Dark Sister in a blur of Valyrian steel, cutting through the nearest soldier in one swift, practiced motion. Blood sprays into the air, catching the dim light as the battlefield roars back to life. The Triarchy’s soldiers charge forward, desperate to claim the prize they believe within reach, but they are rushing headlong into a trap.

It’s your moment.

With a word in Valyrian, you urge Dallax into a dive. His wings unfurl, dark as midnight, blotting out the dying light. The air screams past you as you plummet toward the battlefield, the ground rushing up to meet you. “Dracarys!” you roar, the command slicing through the din of battle.

Dallax responds with a torrent of flame that incinerates everything in its path. The first line of the Crabfeeder’s men is engulfed in a roaring inferno, their screams swallowed by the relentless fire. Armor melts, flesh sizzles, and bone turns to ash in mere moments. You bank sharply, pulling Dallax into another dive, this time focusing on the siege engines positioned along the ridge. The ballistae, meant to keep the dragons at bay, are shattered under the crushing weight of dragonfire and claws. Timber explodes, splinters raining down on the screaming soldiers below as you rip through their defenses with ruthless efficiency.

You catch a glimpse of Daemon, now fully engaged in the melee, his sword a blur of lethal grace as he carves a bloody path through the Triarchy’s forces. He fights with a savage joy, laughing as he dodges and counters, the battlefield his stage. Corlys and his men surge from the shallows, catching the enemy in a brutal pincer. The once-confident soldiers of the Crabfeeder are thrown into disarray, their lines crumbling under the combined might of dragon and steel.

You circle back, eyes locked on Drahar, who attempts to retreat deeper into the labyrinth of stakes and pits his men have constructed. But there’s no escape. You guide Dallax lower, skimming the ground, his claws gouging the earth as you close in on your prey. The Crabfeeder looks up in desperation, his eyes wide behind his mask as he realizes his end is near.

“End him!” Daemon’s voice echoes in your mind like a phantom’s dare, though the words are drowned out by the roar of battle.

Dallax’s jaws snap open, his teeth glinting as they slide out from their hidden sheaths. With a snarl, he lunges, clamping down on Drahar with a sickening crunch. The Crabfeeder’s mask falls away, revealing a twisted visage frozen in terror before his body is torn apart in a spray of blood and gore. Dallax shakes his head, flinging what remains of Drahar’s corpse into the dirt before incinerating it with a final jet of flame.

Around you, the battlefield is a scene of utter carnage. The ground is slick with blood, littered with the hacked remains of soldiers. Men scream, their limbs severed, or burn as they try to flee, only to be cut down by Corlys’s disciplined troops. The cries of the dying are a symphony of suffering, underscored by the relentless roar of flames. Dallax moves among the survivors like a shadow, crushing and burning any who dare to resist.

As the last pockets of resistance are snuffed out, you land amidst the ruins, stepping down from Dallax’s back. You scan the battlefield, taking in the broken fortifications, the piles of charred corpses, and the men who now kneel in surrender. Victory is yours. The Stepstones are won.

Daemon approaches, blood splattered across his armor, a wild grin on his face. “Well done, nephew,” he says, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “I thought I might have all the fun, but you’ve stolen quite the show.” His eyes gleam with shared triumph, the bond between you strengthened through battle and bloodshed. “The Crabfeeder will feast no more.”

You smirk, wiping sweat and grime from your brow. “Someone had to keep you from getting killed. I couldn’t let you take all the glory.”

He laughs, the sound cutting through the dying echoes of the battle. “You’re learning. Perhaps there’s more of me in you than anyone cares to admit.”

As Daemon moves to rally the remaining men, your thoughts drift, carried away on the winds of victory. The image of Alicent appears in your mind—her gentle smile, the way her hand rests on the curve of her belly, swollen with the child she carries. You think of your son, Aegon, barely more than a year old, his bright eyes so full of curiosity. It is for them that you fight, for the future you intend to build, for the family you have claimed as your own.

The taste of blood and ash lingers on your tongue, but underneath it all is the yearning to return to them, to hold Alicent in your arms and feel the soft weight of your son as he rests against your chest. You think of how you will recount this victory to them—how Aegon will listen in awe, his little hands reaching out as if to grasp the tales of dragons and battles. You smile to yourself, imagining the way Alicent will scold you softly for the bloodshed, though you know she will be proud all the same.

“Soon,” you murmur to yourself, the words almost lost in the wind. “Soon I’ll be home.”

But for now, the battle is done, and the Stepstones are yours. The fires burn low as you gaze out over the broken landscape, your thoughts with your family, even as your dragon’s shadow stretches long over the conquered land, a reminder of the price of victory.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd reader insert #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x male reader #hotd x you #hotd alicent #alicent x you #alicent x y/n #alicent x reader #alicent hightower

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anki-of-beleriand · 6 months ago

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A Heart Made Of Glass ch.15

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision - CarolxF!Reader

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

Reader has some decisions to make, Wanda is just confused, and things are finally looking up for the both of them.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 15

From Kamar-Taj

Time didn't stop after Wanda left.

Days and nights came by without any significant changes, the different agencies that had come to help during the dome incident had long gone and you were left alone once more.

Tony had stayed behind long enough to ensure you and the others would be fine. And Monica had stayed to keep Carol company before going back to her normal duties; life in general went back to what it was.

Like the waters of the ocean surrounding Ulsteinvik, there was only calmness and the people in the city had forgotten and forgiven the small disruption in their lives. You were still as welcome, as the first time you got into the city to help those in need.

The holidays had been welcomed by the inhabitants of the city with fireworks and a party that lasted a full weekend. You had enjoyed the admiration and sheer happiness on America's face whenever she went from one stand of food to the other, when she got in contact with teens her age and soon found herself living a life she hadn't enjoyed so far.

A bell sounded to your left, the door of the restaurant opened with a twirl of cold wind sneaking inside the place. You shifted on the chair leaning against the wall, your eyes following with amusement the discussion America started with Yelena.

“She is unbelievable, you would think she is the same age as America.” Natasha snorted when Yelena slapped the table pointing to the street, soon the both of them left to prove a point missed by you and Natasha.

“I think they like to mess with one another far too much.” You shrugged, grabbing the glass of wine you had been drinking and taking another ling sip.

It wasn't until then you noticed you had been left alone with Natasha. The Widow smirked, quivering a brow at you, her hands placing themselves on the table with her eyes never leaving yours, you knew what was about to come. For more than two weeks everyone had been trying to get a hold of you and the letter and know exactly what the young witch had said to you.

So far, you had been successful in pretending that letter never happened, making sure you were never alone with Natasha or Yelena.

“Well, are you going to tell me?” Natasha asked, leaning back on the chair, her clear eyes studying you. “Whatever it was, it really had an effect on you. Should I be worried?”

You exhaled placing your closed hands on the table, the steam coming from your mug covering your chin. Natasha scrutinised your posture and your facial expressions, it was something she had been doing in the last couple of weeks knowing that whatever had happened with Wanda was still affecting you in ways you didn't want to. You had been standing on the outlines, trying to disappear behind your shadows while zoning out whenever everyone was sharing light conversation at the dinner table or a mission was being shared.

“Wanda told me what she did after the funeral,” you started the story, your head tilting to the side while your hand made a gesture to the waitress for the woman to bring another round of coffee.

“It is a rather long story, Tasha.” You smiled when the other woman raised a single eyebrow at you.

“So I see, I'm going to finally get the full story? The real one?”

You chuckled, shrugging while taking a long sip from the cup.

“She went back to the compound, went through my room until she came across the small trunk I kept in the wardrobe.”

You could see as realisation hit Natasha in a second, her eyes went wide with a slack jaw marked by the disbelief of what Wanda found inside that place. You nodded smiling bitterly at her

“Yeah, she found everything and then, she just wanted to see Westview and the area where the place was supposed to be.”

From there you told Natasha everything you heard from Wanda and whatever blank spaces you filled in with some digging. You knew Tony had helped Wanda at some point, then she was contacted by Strange to help with the case of America which led her to your doorstep. Even after that, it was obvious something had happened, and that was the moment in which Agatha entered the story.

Agatha had worked in the shadows lurking Wanda to the spot she had been looking for I'm Westview. She had made it possible for Wanda to break down, with the enchantment she had placed before Wanda's arrival, she had worked her way into the fantasy guaranteeing that she could control some aspects of the fantasy.

Pietro and Vision had been some of them.

“Do you believe them?” Natasha finally asked, she squinted her eyes reading your reaction at her question. “It sounds convenient that Agatha could only bring dead people, so Visions being there was a coincidence meant to manipulate you. Convenient.”

The door of the café opened and closed again, the conversation around your table was suddenly louder than it had been moments ago. You scolded thinking over what Natasha was just saying, it was something you had thought but it was far too elaborate for Wanda to just make it up.

Right?

Besides, Agatha did admit to the manipulation. Your eyes hardened, you clenched your jaw tilting your head until your eyes focused on the world outside. Whatever doubts growing in your mind stopped when you remember childish laughter and then non-stop babbling from the twins.

“They look like me.” You mumbled turning to Natasha. “You should have seen them, Tasha. Billy and Tommy have some resemblance to me and Wanda, their eyes, the colour of the hair, the smile, some mannerisms…”

“Is this why you have been acting weird since you came back?” Natasha leaned over the table, she didn't miss your behaviour in the last couple of weeks her concern for you had been latent at all times but she had always respected your space allowing you to just come to her to talk.

You purse your lips grabbing a napkin, the frown deepened with your eyes flickering between confusion and nostalgia.

“Partially.”

It was so easy to pretend you were still angry at hurt by what happened ten years ago, to just turn your back on the young woman you had met on a mission angry and scared that ended up becoming your life. Never before or after her did you feel the same for anyone, not even Carol. And when Wanda came back, hurt, scared, tired and asking for help your heart trembled with the same love you thought you had buried in the past.

But love was not enough.

“She is still in love with you.” It was a statement, Natasha drank her tea glancing out of the window. “I don't think she never stopped loving you.”

“Love is for children.” You smirked amused by the roll of Natasha's eyes.

“True, but sometimes love should be enough.”

“It's never enough.” You leaned back scratching the back of your neck. “I could experience first hand what it would be like to be with her.”

Natasha softened at your words, she heard as you narrated every single detail of what you lived in the other universe. How you became a parent to the children that seemed to love you even though you were a different mom to them. How your other self would glance at Wanda and how that Wanda would look at you.

For the first time ever since everything happened you opened up about your fears, your hopes, and your wishes. It hadn't been easy to come to the conclusion of what you really desired, of what you really needed. But, here you were, pouring your heart out to Natasha, the only woman apart from Yelena that could beat some sense into you.

“What did the letter say?” Natasha finally asked, you hesitated before putting the letter from your pocket and handing it to the other woman.

“That love should be enough to start again.” You replied, focusing your attention on the people walking down the street. Natasha concentrated,reading the letter left by Wanda on the day she went away.

Dear Y/N,

I’m not good with words, and I don't even know how to say everything I wish to tell you. My words had been trapped inside my head for over a decade, and I wasn't sure if approaching you with them was a wise thing to do. I knew of your anger towards me, and I knew you were probably feeling a hatred I didn't want to see in your eyes. I just couldn't deal with you not looking at me with love and happiness, the way it used to be.

I made many mistakes. But the biggest one was to let you go.

I asked for forgiveness once, but I wanted to say it once more.

Please, my love, forgive my weakness and my indecision. I should have never acceded to what was easy, to what my parents would have wanted, to what everyone was expecting of me. I know this doesn't make it any less stupid or hurtful, and that I should have never hurt you in such a way.

You are my world, and ever since you’ve been gone I have been so lost.

But I push myself to continue because I cannot give up, I have to discover my worth to be able to reach out to you once more.

I don't want to keep going knowing you are out there and that I am not with you, and I don't want to live with the past above my shoulders afraid of at least tried to be with you. After what we lived in these last week's I realized, I don't want to.

I understand if you are no longer interested, and that you already have someone else in your life. If that's the case, I would step aside but be there for you as a friend.

If not, then…I won't give up on you. I love you, I am still so much in love with you that sometimes it is hard to breathe and my chest twisted painfully knowing you and I could be…in another time, in another universe.

I will leave, not because I want to, but because I need to.

But I will wait for you, if this is what you want.

Love should be enough for now, right? This time around I promise you I won't let you go without a fight, my heart is already yours, Y/N, it has been for more than a decade. Please, just…give us a chance.

With love,

Wanda M.

Silence followed Natasha just as she placed the letter on the table. The only sounds breaking into their shared space were those of cutlery and low conversation in other tables, everyone was oblivious to what the two women had been sharing and even the weight of the circumstances leading them to the situation they were in at the moment.

You rested your chin on the back of your hand, your eyes dancing around the streets following patterns with your mind going back to the letter. You had learnt it's contents a long time ago, ever since Yelena gave you the letter.

“The only one that can do something about this is you, you know that, right?”

“I know.” You faced Natasha, your lips curving upwards.

“I've been with you all this time, Y/N.” Natasha chose her words with care, never once letting go of your stare. “I've seen the good and the bad, I've seen you fighting against your own pain and becoming the woman you are right now…and I have seen Wanda as well, she wasn't as lucky as you were.”

“I know.” You whispered, Natasha offered a tender smile placing a hand on top of yours.

“I want you to be happy.” Natasha squeezed your hand winking. “I think it will take time but, perhaps, a friendship is not a bad idea.”

You opened your eyes at those words, your heart leaping inside your chest.

“You think…it is possible?”

“It's what you want, isn't it?”

You didn't answer, but if you were honest with yourself, it was what you wanted and what you had already decided to do. You were still afraid, going back to Wanda would it mean to face a past that was not completely erased and buried, and it was also a chance of falling harder than ever and not being able to go back from these emotions anymore. But, now that you knew what could happen, you couldn't say no to just give her and yourself a chance.

Before anything else could be done or said a tap on the window called your attention, Yelena and America were grinning through the window pointing to some bags they had on their hands. You snorted turning to Natasha who was still looking at you with tenderness.

“I guess we should go.”

“Let's go, the .”

Natasha didn't ask, and you didn't elaborate, but the both of you had come to the same conclusion and now it was a matter of time for you to step into the road leading to Wanda Maximoff.

________

She could hear the shower running, the sound of your voice singing a random song from your playlist. Carol smiled, closing the door of the room behind her, her footsteps taking her to the bed where she saw your clothes scattered around the bed. The blond-haired woman went to pick them up, thinking about the domesticity of her life in recent weeks.

The whole fiasco with Wanda had made her feel insecure, Carol had seen the conflict in your eyes but as soon as the other woman had been out of the picture it was easier for you to go back to Carol. It had not been easy, and Carol had been patient enough to know that it was time for her to make the proposal.

It was something the both of you had talked about before, Carol still had a duty to the Galaxy and she would be more than happy to share her travels with you.

Carol grabbed your jacket, her eyes flickering around until they fell on the white envelope inside your pocket. Without thinking too much about it, she grabbed the envelope looking at its contests before sitting down to read the letter.

The warm water rolling down your back felt heavenly, you lifted your face to the shower while letting the notes of the song overwhelmed your senses. It had been a long day, America was about to start school once more and Yelena was supposed to leave for New York the following week

Your conversation with Natasha left your soul lighter, while your heart trembled with anticipation of what you would do. A part of you knew what should be your next action, while another part dread the conversation you needed to have with Carol Danvers.

When the both of you started the relationship, you never left space for romance. It was physical more than emotional, yet Carol had become a close friend and someone you could trust with your life, it was only fair for you to be honest with Carol. You didn't know what would happen with Wanda, but Carol was too emotionally involved with you for you to just leave things the way they were.

You excited the bathroom with a towel covering your body, your hands stopped midair just as your eyes fell on the woman sitting on your bed.

“Carol! Hey, I didn't expect you here so soon, I thought you were with Monica.”

Carol winced, lowering her gaze, she pressed her lips together before facing you. You cocked your head, blinking slowly at the seriousness from the other woman.

“She had an important meeting, it didn't make sense for me to stay behind.” Carol stood up, her hand holding a familiar envelope.

Your eyes opened slightly, your eyebrows shooting upwards while the other woman stretched her hand in your direction.

“I never have a chance with you,” she stated, you opened your mouth ready to say something but the other woman shook her head. Tears welling up in her eyes.

“No, don't say anything, I know.” Carol shook her head looking away, “you told me, hell even Natasha told me, but I just thought she had hurt you enough for you to stop feeling anything for her.”

The conversation was turning out to be something uncomfortable with you dressed only on a towel. You tried to hold onto it, while trying to be as serious and as clear as possible.

“Carol, this has nothing to do with Wanda.” You started almost wincing when Carol narrowed her eyes at you nodding to the letter.

“I think it has everything to do with her.”

Silence followed such declaration, you stood there undecided as to what to do or how to proceed. The hand holding the letter was heavy, while the one holding the towel had been shaking all this time. You could see the hurt in Carol's eyes, how lost and really brokenhearted she was feeling at the moment.

It was something you had lived once that you wouldn't want anyone experiencing the same situation as you did.

“Yes and no.” You stated trying to look for the right words. “I have been running from my emotions for a very long time, from my past and this mission…I never thought I would be facing everything I thought I didn't need or even want.”

“So now you're going back to her?” Carol couldn't help but press the subject, her eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m not sure as to what do I want to do or what it is exactly that I am looking for,” this time around you stepped forward, your hand left the towel to grab Carol's hand. “I just know that I have to do something about it and…see what will happen.”

Carol wanted to add something else, she wanted to say something but whatever she might say would sound hurtful and resentful. You stepped closer waiting to see if she rejected your proximity but if anything Carol seemed to give in.

“I'm sorry.” Your voice was above a whisper, her hands soon wrapped around your waist and you could feel her warm breath on your neck.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Carol.”

“I know, I just wish I was enough for you.”

Without thinking too much, or actually planning on doing something different your cupped her face leaning in to share a goodbye kiss. Carol sighed, kissing you harder, pressing you against the closest wall trying to imprint in her mind the last memory she would have of you.

______________

Three months later

The rain was falling on the roof with constant tapping breaking the silence in the room.

The heavy aroma of incense and myrrh impregnated the air in the room, the placed was decorated with earthly colours and there was a single chair that had been occupied by a strange man wearing a dark orange Kasaya. The man had been there ever since you arrived at the temple, his eyes dancing around a book he was reading with attention.

Your feet took you to the closest window, the world right outside was a full range forest that was being clouded by the falling rain and the darkening sky. Thunder broke into the valley, and you winced hearing the rumbling sky right above your head echoing its rage with nothing to quiet down the sound. Your eyes flickered to the sky, and for that moment, your mind drifted to the last couple of weeks in which your life had change so drastically.

After Carol found Wanda’s letter in your pocket, she decided to leave for good.

It was a tough decision, and a part of you regrated the way she had to leave and how things ended up between the both of you. It hadn’t been fair with the other woman, but you never made any promises that you couldn’t keep. In the end, Carol understood this and after one last goodbye, she left to comply with her mission to the Galaxy.

You always thought you would go looking for Wanda after that, but you didn’t.

Instead of just going where your heart was telling you to go, you stayed behind to fix and organise your life the best way you could. Natasha and Yelena kept up with their mission, the brought former Widows and some hurt powered individuals that you helped to go back on their feet while teaching America about her powers while giving her a taste of a normal life.

It had been working just fine, America had been getting used to her life with you and she was getting into the whole high-school adventure the best way she could. Life in Norway had always been a quiet experience, and something that you had fallen in loved with ever since you got there; that was the reason you never left. But in the midst of all of this, and life going back to what it was you found yourself going back to the letter and to Wanda.

It became quite the habit for you to just sit outside or go to the lighthouse to think and overthink about Wanda, the letter, and what you should do next.

“Why do you keep pretending to think about what you’re going to do when you already know?”

Yelena had been the first one to question you, and you didn’t have a complete answer to that. You just gave a vague answer dismissing the young woman before going back to ignore the tug at your heart, and the memory of Wanda inside your head.

“I talk to Wanda yesterday, she wants me to tell you that she really is grateful for the book you send over, help with the boredom.” That time it had been America, and the teen had come at you with a frown and narrowed eyes. “Did you really send her a book? Why didn’t you go to her? Or wrote to her? Or even call her?”

You didn’t have an answer for those questions, so you just shrugged and proceed to ask America about the girl you saw her talking to the other day. America had blushed and soon had forgotten her questioning of your actions, you merely smirked keeping the words Wanda had sent to you closed to your heart.

“Everyone is tired of you being an idiot, so Tony sent his jet that it is waiting for you. You’ll leave at midnight, go pack your stuff.”

Natasha had not been as subtle as the others, and she had gone on full commanding mode before setting everything up for your departure. That was how you ended up at the other side of the world, with just a single backpack and waiting in the lobby with a storm happening right outside the window.

Ever since you went into the plane your heart had been leaping inside your chest, shivering while awakening a hoard of butterflies in your lower abdomen. You had been trying to control your nervousness, and your thoughts had been protected by a dark cloud ever since you arrived at Nepal. You didn’t know what you were going to say, but you did know that the time to fix everything had arrived.

“Y/N, this is really a surprised.”

You turned around to see a smirking Strange standing by the door, you returned the smirk walking towards him with your hand stretched out.

“Strange, I have to say I was forced to make up my bag and come here.” You shrugged making a face, “didn’t have much of a choice.”

“And yet, this is the place you want to be, right?” Strange chuckled tilting his head, “took you long enough.”

“Is there everyone talking about me behind my back?” You grumbled shaking your head, Strange shrugged stepping aside to show a long hallway.

“We were merely speculating and hoping.”

“Hoping?”

Strange walked beside you, his face a mask of complete peace. The man had not age that much, and yet he seemed to carry with him the weight of the world and a duty that came to him when he needed it the most.

“We were hoping for you to make the right decision.” Strange stopped at another door, this time around those eyes of his hardened while they pinned you to the spot. “Wanda has made great progress here, you know? I know things between the both of you were not easy when you were younger but things are different now.”

“I know that.” You scowled lifting your chin, “that’s the reason I’m here, things are different now and I think it is time for me to just…”

You waved your hands around, the gesture trying to replace the words you didn’t dare to say to this man. Whatever you had come to Kathmandu for, it was something you would discuss with Wanda alone. For a moment, Strange gave you an odd quizzical stare before his face relaxed again and he opened the door.

You opened your eyes impressed by the sight, right in front of you there was a huge yard filled with training grounds that were completely empty under the rain. In each corner of the squared Yard there was a fountain decorated with mythological animals pouring water with a melodic fall. Your eyes went from the yard to the ceilings and the sky, then they finally focused on a young man standing by the closest column waiting patiently for something.

Strange cleared his throat presenting the young man to you.

“I have set up a room for you, Carlos will take you there.” Strange dedicated you along stare before speaking again. “Everything had been set up, and when you’re ready you will know where to go.”

“Thank you for having me here, Strange.”

“Don’t mention it, as I said, I think this is necessary and I think it would be beneficial for you and her.” Strange waved at you, turning around. “Just…don’t break her heart.”

Those words shoot a cold, sharp pain through your heart, your eyes opened and your mouth was already formulating a retort to such words. However, you stopped yourself when the sky ignited into a bluish-silvery light and thunder growled through the valley.

You jumped startle turning your eyes to the sky.

“Sometimes silence is better than no silence at all.” Carlos smiled gently at you; he bowed showing the opposite side of the hall to you. “Shall we, Mrs. Y/L/N?”

The young man led you a room in the far corner of the compound, it was under the shadow of a mountain while facing the forest and the far-away city of Kathmandu. The room was quite simple, with a single bed, a bedside table, a desk, a bathroom and a wardrobe it was something that reminded you of your younger days.

“I hope this is of your liking, Mrs. Y/L/N, dinner usually is served at 7pm, and breakfast at 6am, after those hours you are very welcome to use the kitchen at your own discretion.” Carlos explained while allowing you to se the room. “If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to reach out to me. I am in charge of you for as long as you stay here.”

“Thank you, Carlos, you are very kind.” You offered a single smile; Carlos bowed his head but before he could go you called out to him. “Carlos, wait.”

The young man turned around tilting his head with a frown on his face.

“Do you know…where can I find Wanda Maximoff?”

Carlos frown deepened and it looked to you as if he didn’t know for certain where the woman was or who you were asking for. Then, his eyes opened slightly with a glint of understanding in them.

“She usually spends her time in the Meditation Chamber, it is located it on the left wing of the compound. Near the pass to the mountain range.” Carlos hesitated before bowing again. “No one likes to go there when she is using the small chamber, Y/L/N, so please be advised of this.”

“Thank you, Carlos, I will be careful.”

The young man nodded and finally left.

You stood in the middle of the room for a while before dropping your backpack to the ground and falling to the bed. You closed your eyes, your heart beating a tad bit faster while your hands got all sweaty; there was a tingling void in the pit of your stomach making you tensed around the shoulders.

What the hell am I doing? Why am I even here? What if…what if this doesn’t work?

These thoughts danced around your head, your body regulating your breathing until you finally fall asleep. The last thought that crossed your mind was that Wanda would be in for a great surprised, and you just hoped that love really was enough.

You woke up with a start.

The room was submerged in darkness, not a single sound could be heard inside or outside your room. You sat down noticing the clothes you had arrived on, and the unmade backpack on the floor. You had fallen asleep, tired for the trip and the emotional rollercoaster you had been as of late.

You were also running from what was to come.

With a quick glance to the watch on your wrist, it was past four in the morning. You stood up and made your way to the bathroom, your mind going over the dream that had woken you up abruptly. The memories mixed with the dream of what could be, the anxiousness of a meeting you were not sure how it would turn out to be.

You took a deep breath enjoying the morning breeze that caressed your skin. The rays of light sneaking through the heavy clouds gliding above your head, it was a cold morning with little light following your stroll down the hall in the direction of the kitchen. All around you the morning routine for the inhabitants of the temple had started, with one single thought in mind, you went straight to the kitchens for a coffee before meeting with the woman you had come to see. Your lower abdomen was already filling up with butterflies, and your body tingled in anticipation.

*****

There was a small cabin located at the outskirts of the compound.

Wanda had chosen this place because it was the only place in which she could hide from the judging stare of the rest of the inhabitants in Kamar-Taj. In the last couple of months, she had been focusing on learning more about her powers and about herself, she had tried to reach out for some sort of peace while getting her powers under control.

It had worked, to some degree.

What she really found difficult to overcome, or to actually face with a cold heart was her past. And more exactly, her feelings for you. The memories mixed inside her head, the possibilities along with her desires and her hopes brought a new kind of longing to her heart. The letter she left behind had been her fighting effort to be a part of your live, she was conscious of your anger but also of your willingness to forgive.

Wanda had hoped that perhaps…

The sun raised on the horizon, this time around the yellowish light broke into the sky bathing that ground with light. Wanda rested her elbows on her knees, her eyes lost on the mountain chains spreading through the valley. She had found peace in Kamar-Taj, and after three months of uncertainty, she had given up seeking to heal her broken heart.

“You surely know how to pick these places.” Your voice broke any silence spreading through the house, Wanda jerked awake turning sharply to the source.

You stood rather awkwardly at the door leading to the yard, your hand scratching the back of your head but your eyes completely set on Wanda.

“Y/N?” Wanda whispered in disbelief; with heavy limbs she turned completely standing up. “You…what…”

The words went missing in her mind, she was dumbfounded never thinking it was possible to see you once more. To actually have you there, standing casually in front of her. You raised a brow, lips curling in amusement, you stepped closer observing as all defenses broke and Wanda stood vulnerable in front of you. Why didn't you see it before that day?

There was some hesitation on your part but, after a brief moment, you stepped closer hugging Wanda, holding her closer to your chest.

“Hey there, little witch.” The nickname rolled out of your lips with a familiarity you hadn’t lost and Wanda wrapped her arms around you tightly hiding her face in the crook of your neck.

This moment crossed your mind several times, each scenario had been different every time and sometimes the outcome had not been pleasant. But at that moment, it was everything you were looking for and Wanda was needing.

The sunny morning had changed rapidly into a snowy one, the sky darkened with cold breezes breaking into the temple forcing its inhabitants to seek refuge inside the quarters of the temple..

Wanda had been talking non-stop, it was unusual of her to just make small conversation but she had been nervous enough to have you there to just stay quiet and not say anything at all. Her hand grabbed the teapot, pouring the warm water into the small mugs she had fixed on a tray.

“Strange thought this could be good for me, he told me the offer had been on the table by the time Thanos was defeated but…” Wanda lifted the tray making her way to makeshift living room.

“But America and Westview happened.” You finished helping her out, Wanda smiled nervisouly shrugging while locking her eyes to yours. “You never have a rest, haven't you? I mean, as far as I know, you have been facing difficulties from day one and…”

“Losing you left me lost.” She mumbled sitting down, conscious that your eyes were on her.

This was the first time she referred to that moment, Wanda grabbed the mug with both hands frowning lightly.

“I was afraid of everything I was feeling, everything I was experiencing with you.” She whispered only for you to hear. “You were everything I wanted and I was…I wasn't no one, Y/N, why would you want to be with me?”

You pierced together every single moment surrounding the break up, the treason before and after, the happiness and the heartbreak. At that time, Wanda had been completely alone, having lost Pietro had been difficult and then she was trusted into a life she hardly understood, and people that were more afraid of her than anything. It was not an excuse, but you understood what Wanda was saying.

“You broke my heart so bad, Wanda.” You spoke, noticing the hardening of your voice, Wanda winced but you didn't stop there. “I was in love with you, ready to give you the world, ready to help you with the weight you were carrying…but I never saw how hard it was for you.” Wanda broke into a bitter smile, “did I ever tell you about the beginning of the war?”

The question caught you by surprise, the change of topic was so sudden you were tempted to press further into questions about the cheating and the reasoning behind it. It was the shadows crossing Wanda's face that made you rethink your options, and the fact this was the first time she spoke about Sokovia.

“You never spoke about Sokovia, or your family. Not really.” You replied, earning a simple nod.

“My family was complicated, mom lost dad when we were children and she married soon after.” Wanda spoke with the weight of memory in her voice, her eyes drifting away until the found yours once more. “My stepfather was a religious man, and mom was a school teacher that had never forced her beliefs on us until then.”

You fixed your position on the sofa, your eyes never leaving Wanda. It was the first time Wanda really opened up to you, a story and a background you didn't know and that was showing a side of Wanda that had been unknown to you.How many times did you really talk to her? How many stories had she told you about herself?

Why did you fall in love with her?

Why were you still in love with her?

“He was really tough on me, Pietro would get away with almost anything until the first bombs were heard in the outskirts of the city.” This time around she softened the corner of her eyes, her lips twitching upwards, “he was so mad he wasn't allow to go to the soccer match, that he dragged me out of the house and we both tried to get to the field. We almost died that day.”

You straightened up leaning in with eyes wide open.

“You did?”

“Yes, one of the first conflicts broke out in the neighbourhood where the field was located.” Wanda made a face, “I had never been so afraid as I was at that moment.”

“What do you miss the most about Sokovia?”

The question caught Wanda by surprise, whatever shadow of war and memory dropped for a moment giving way to a different expression.

“I loved the libraries.”

“You did?” You chuckled watching as Wanda leaned forward all giddy telling you about the public library near her home, how the books were organised on different shelves and the sight of so many books she could get her hands on had always been so tempting she found peace and happiness in these places.

“After my parents died, I was so busy trying to survive and to make my way through the world with Pietro I just forgot about it.” Wanda lowered her face, her eyes on the floor. “I was angry, lost and afraid…then, Hydra came and I didn't want to be a victim anymore.”

You purse your lips remembering those first days in which you met Wanda. An angry and dark teenager that was angry at the world for everything that had happened to her.

“I guess it must have been hard to see Pietro again.” You said all of a sudden, Wanda nodded curtly tears forming in her eyes.

“It was hard seeing everyone, everything I could have but…”

“We don't know if we could have.” You finished placing the mug on the table, tilting your head, your eyes focused on the window, glancing at the world outside. “I guess things could have been different, perhaps worse…”

“Or better.” Wanda followed your eyes to the window, it was raining with some snowflakes swirling around.

You shrugged, lowering your eyes to the watch on your wrist. It was past midday, lunch was already being served back in the main temple and your stomach was protesting from the lack of food.

“You could stay.” Wanda proposed following your stare to the outside, you teared your eyes from the window glancing at Wanda that was blushing lightly. “I mean, it is raining and the main temple must be full, and it is so far and…”

Wanda gasped tensing when your hand fell upon yours, your lips broke into an easy smile.

“I was thinking the same, but perhaps you have something to eat? I'm starving.”

The change Wanda had was almost surprising, her whole face lit up and she stood right away stretching her hand towards you. You glanced at her hand, then at the grin adorning her face before taking her hand in yours standing up and letting her guide you through the small cabin.

“Oh, you're in for a huge surprise, I've been dying to show these new recipes to someone but…” Wanda trailed off, her enthusiasm almost diminishing until you squeezed her hand smiling encouragingly at her.

“I've been on my own in this place ever since I came here. Not many are very open to share a conversation with me.”

“Why's that?” You inquired frowning lightly, Wanda shrugged looking away from you.

“They are afraid of my powers and…how powerful I am.”

Silence followed her words, but soon there was no more conversation needed it as you two reached a small kitchenette located at the back of the cabin. Wanda pointed to a dinning chair near the island counter, her happy smile was back on making sure you were seated before she started working around.

“You really are excited about this.” You commented chuckling lightly, your cheeks burning when the other woman winked at you, carefree and grinning.

“I just…” she bit her lower lip, her eyes glancing everywhere but at you, “I'm just happy I'm not alone, that I have someone to cook for.”

Wanda turned quickly busying herself with the past and the knives putting the food from a cupboard and a fridge.

“When did you learn to cook?” You asked resting your elbows on the counter, your eyes never left the form of Wanda observing the tension on her shoulders, or listening to the trembling on her voice.

“When we have to go on the run…after Lagos.”

“Those were difficult times,” you recalled the conflict and the drama, Natasha trying to balance her public life with her life as a spy, then Steve and Tony arguing like children while the world divided itself without any reason.

“You signed the treaty, though.”

“I did but it didn't matter.” You cocked your head, smiling as the other woman scowled openly at your words. “They needed the idea of control, and that's what we did. But they never got a chance to actually controlled us, our abilities and the danger that has always lurked in the dark wouldn't allow them to actually have any control. Or power.”

Wanda opened her mouth ready to argue your position, she had been at the other end of the conflict being accused of horrible crimes while being called names that had broken her at some point.

You softened your stance, sympathy showing in your eyes.

“It was different for you, wasn't it?”

“Everyone thinks I'm a monster.” She replied flatly, “I'm starting to think they are right.”

It was not only Lagos, it was Edinburgh and Sokovia, it was her working for Hydra and then coming back from the snap with anger and sadness in her heart. It wasn't easy for her, and you were just taking noticed of the external factors that had pushed Wanda over the edge on more than one occasion.

“You're not a monster.” Your replied was supposed to be encouraging but your voice hardened this statement, you winced noticing the hurt flash crossing her green eyes.

“I guess it doesn't matter anymore.” Wanda turned around busying herself with the food. “I'm here now, away from everyone I could ever hurt, trying to just control myself and learn more about my powers.

Alone.

She didn't say it, but for you the word resounded perfectly after her statement. Soon after all conversation died and the only sounds were those of Wanda moving around the kitchen preparing the lunch she had been so eager to show you moments ago.

A little restlessly, you stood up walking around the kitchenette taking noticed of the appliances as well as the actual construction of the cabin. The place was at the outskirts of a temple that had exist before any civilization had a chance to flourish. Your sight lifted to the mountain chains hovering above the valley, the dark clouds of a storm along with the drops of water covered the plain making the resto of the world invisible to prying eyes. The cabin was on the perfect spot for anyone to disappear for a while.

You turned around observing the furniture and the few things that were Wanda's. You took notice of the books, and the notebooks, her clothes and her blankets, the shoes on the floor and the pictures on the coffee table. With some trepidation, you approached the table, your eyes going wide open as they fell on the picture right on the top.

It was a picture of you and her.

You two were younger, the smiles and the closeness were evidence of what was starting to happen between the both of you. It had been a happy moment, right before the both of you escaped the watchful eye of Tony, Steve and Natasha and went out of your way to have fun and find so much needed love.

“I love that picture.” Wanda appeared out of nowhere, you jerked around finding her standing by a cabinet, her eyes far away submerged in memories. “That day you went out of your way to make me laugh, to try and make me happy…it was…”

“After your birthday.�� You mumbled, smiling softly while approaching her. “I remembered.”

You stood right in front of her, the heat from her body comforting the cold ess in yours. Her eyes filled with uncertainty and hopefulness, your heart shrank at the scene wanting nothing more than to give in. Wanda wrapped her left hand around her right forearm, tension growing around you two…waiting…

“Lunch is ready.” Wanda was the first one to break the silence, the tension broke with a splash of cold water and soon there was only awkwardness.

“Good, I'm starving.” You declared touching your abdomen, Wanda smiled nodding to the kitchen.

“I…I hope you like it.” She stated stepping back an dreading you back, whatever was happening, whatever was about to happen put to a rest while you and Wanda tricked yourselves into denial.

—-----------------------

The rest of the afternoon went by without any major incident, Wanda was afraid to ask about your life but you didn't need any questions since the silence was becoming unbearable. With some select stories, you told Wanda what you had done ever since you left the Avengers, you told her about the many adventures and those tragic events that had surrounded your life. She had filled in the spaces with her own stories, but the strained that had been growing since lunch was still there lurking and waiting to explode.

You stretched out tilting your head to see the rain had stopped and the night was filled with stars and a bright, silver moon.

“I think I should go.” You mumbled but did not make any attempt to move from your spot.

Wanda followed your eyes, biting her lower lip.

“It's late.” She stated with some hesitation, “you could…you could stay the night. I mean, the walk to the main temple is long and in this darkness could be dangerous, and it was raining so …”

“You do know that I can moved through the shadows once I know where I am going, right?” You replied amusedly, Wanda blushed opening and closing her mouth.

“Yes, yes of course I know, I…” Wanda trailed off, lowering her gaze.

I don't want you to go.

You nodded briefly standing up and completing your stretching routine. Your eyes never once leaving the form of Wanda.

“Then, I'll leave. We can continue this tomorrow, if you're up to it.”

“Yes!” Wanda stood up rather fast almost falling on you, she couldn't stop blushing cursing her own inadequacy and cowardice. “I mean, that would be nice.”

“We could train and you can show me what you have learnt in here so far “

“Sure, that would be…nice.” Wanda bounced lightly wanting to say something else but unable to do so.

You turned around but, right before you were consumed by your shadows you leaned in placing a single kiss on Wanda's cheeks.

“Have a good night, Little Witch.”

You left and Wanda was left frozen on the spot, her face warm with a single hand brushing against the spot you had just kissed. With some hesitation, she wrapped her arms around herself and went to bed, thoughts of you dancing inside her head. There was just a single thought tormenting her, and it was the question that kept her most of the night awake.

What was going on with you and that sudden visit?

_____________

What Wanda thought would be a couple of days turned into a couple of weeks.

The questions tormenting her mind never stopped, but she didn't dare to voice any of them for fear of breaking the status quo of her relationship with you. Idhe was happy with what she could get, even if that meant she would think about it at night unable to sleep wondering just what the hell was happening or why you were there. She would remember your smile, your words, the conversations that made her laughed or know the Y/N she had missed all those years; and then she would turn around put her knees to her chest and let herself feel the twist of her heart thinking of the cruel torture that was seeing you and not being able to be with you.

It was difficult, but Wanda was just happy with what she could get from you.

“You have to lift your arm…yes, just like that.”

Your voice and the soft touch of your arms broke Wanda's thoughts, she felt her cheeks colouring red at the closeness of your body, the sweet torment of your warm breath on her ear.

“There you go, let's do it slowly. First learn this form before channelling the energy.”

You smiled satisfied when the young woman followed your instructions, Wanda had been distracted in the last couple of days and her frustration had grown to the point she was always tense when trying to follow up your instructions. You stepped back watching before joining her with your own exercises, taking a deep breath while enjoying the silence that echoed through the valley.

“When did you learn all of this?” Wanda huffed tiredly, she turned around to see the teasing smirk dancing on your lips. “This is…difficult.”

You shrugged, finishing the final movement before scratching the back of your head, you step closer to Wanda standing right in front of her. It was easy to see when her breath caught in her throat, how her eyes dilated and the muscles of her body tense completely. Your heart shivered lightly, your arms stretching with the palms of your hands turned to her, Wanda furrowed her brows watching as you joined her hands with yours.

“I was angry at the world, violent and a little confused when Natasha first took me in,” you explained, never looking away from Wanda while your hands alongside hers lifted and started a new form of Tai Chi.

“This technique gave me peace, but it wasn't until I left the Avengers that I realised I need to really learn about my powers.” You furrowed your brows, the memories breaking inside your mind, Wanda couldn't look away her heart leaping intensely while her body submitted herself to you.

“This helps me understand the shadows and the darkness inside my heart, besides…” your smirk grew, your eyes gleaming mischievously, “it is giving me an opportunity to be close to you, right?”

Wanda couldn't help the blush growing on her face, nor the smile that showed on her lips. You chuckled, leading her for at least fifteen more minutes before the training session was over.

The morning had been cold, and the rain had become a constant occurrence in the time you had been in Nepal. That morning had been not an exception, and by the time the training had been over your clothes were completely drenched; you made a face grabbing your jacket and the boots while looking around for your backpack. The downside of coming all the wat to where Wanda was staying was precisely that your stuff was all in the room up in the main building.

Wanda could see your hesitation and annoyance, your eyes going from one piece of clothing to the other while your hand massaged the back of your neck. The young witch chewed on her lower lip, thinking on how to proceed before stepping closer her hand placing tenderly on your shoulder.

You turned around tilting your head while furrowing your eyes, Wanda offered a tentative smile nodding to the cabin.

“I have hot water and some spare clothes, it you don’t mind.” She said tentatively, “that way you don’t have to go all the way to the temple and…well, you…you can finally take my offer of staying here.”

You pressed your lips together thinking over the offer, you hadn’t dared to tell Wanda that night would be the last one you would stay in Nepal. That day you had planned to finally have a serious conversation with her right before leaving; the last couple of weeks had been amazing and you had given in normality instead of facing the real issue that had brought you all the way to Kamar-Taj.

“I mean, you don’t have to and if you want…” Wand started babbling waving her hands while trying to hide her nervousness, you realised you had taken far too long to answer her and she was now trying to cover up for something that might not be what you wanted.

“Hey, that’s okay I was just…” You hesitated straightening up, the same nervous gesture of your hand at the nape of your neck present, “look…I just think we must talk.”

“Oh.” Wanda stepped back placing her left hand on her right elbow, her face fell only to change into a grimace that she tried to make look natural, “right, I mean you have Natasha and Yelena, and America is there and…and Carol. Right I just, I thought…”

Whatever Wanda thought got tangle in her throat as she found herself mere inches away from you, your hands had been placed tenderly on her hips and you were trying to catch her eyes in your to make sure that whatever you were going to say was not lost in misunderstanding.

“I have to go back, yes.” You started taking care of the words you were using, “Natasha and Yelena got news of something unusual happening in France and wanted my help, America is still at school so I have to make sure everything is arranged and Carol…”

A swift breeze formed around them, Wanda was frowning crunching up her nose while her eyes gleamed a single flash of red. She stepped back lifting her hand when you tried to approach her.

“I know, I get it. I never expected you to stay longer than…than what you should, I mean I don’t even know why you came here.” Wanda finally said looking away from you not really understanding what was happening, but hating the fact she was feeling so heartbroken.

“Wanda…” you started but the redhead shook her head breaking into a sad smile.

“Go take a bath and I will prepare the clothes and something to eat then, we can talk.”

You opened your mouth only to close it again nodding curtly.

“Okay.”

Without looking back at you or saying anything else Wanda turned around and left you alone feeling the coldness of the morning now more than ever.

_________________________

The sound of the shower filled your ears while the warm contact of the water heated your skin. You closed your eyes, your hands working on the knots on your back and arms moving through your shoulders and your neck whatever place you could reach. Your body was letting go of the tension, but your mind and heart were deeply tormented by what had happened in the last couple of weeks.

You had come to Nepal with a single goal in mind.

Seeing Wanda after almost five months had brought back all the love you thought you had stopped feeling for her. On that first day you had thought of just talk about what had happened and her letter, but things didn’t turn out the way you expected them and, as the days passed by you realised the conversation could wait as long as you had a chance to pretend that Wanda and you were okay.

Wanda had set up the food in the small living room, she had a laptop set up while a mug of hot chocolate rested in her hands. Her face lifted in your direction, her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were red, the smile she gave you was one of pure sadness and the sight alone broke your heart.

You approached her taking the spot beside her on the sofa, the table had been filled with another cup of hot chocolate, bread and some cheese.

“I thought you may be hungry as well, and I just thought well you told me you haven’t watched this movie and Strange got it for me under illegal circumstances.”

It was a silent offering that you took with a smile, you sat down grabbing the chocolate.

“I bet he did, don’t worry Tony has a specific program for this kind of activities as well,” You fixed your position on the sofa.

Wanda pulled on her blanket, a huge dark blue fleece she had bought on her way out of Norway. She stretched out making sure your legs were covered, her warm breath so close to your face that it sent shivers down your back.

“I just thought if this is going to be my last day with you, I would love to spend it like this.” She whispered, chewing on her lower lip before sitting closer to you.

“It is not your last day with me, Wanda.” You replied lowering your gaze furrowing your brows. “You left with a goodbye and a letter that left me confused.”

“It was not my intention.” Wanda leaned back, she was hoping for the conversation to not take place to perhaps evade the inevitable heartbreak but it seemed as if you were decided to continue without any consideration.

“I wrote that because…” Wanda brushed her hair shrugging, “I never thought I will meet with you again, Y/N, and the circumstances of this meeting make me face my past, and what I lost, what I could have.”

“You weren’t the only one, Wanda.” Your voice dropped shaking your head, “I never thought I will see you again, but when I did…”

“Why did you come here, Y/N?” Wanda finally dared to ask afraid of the answer but far to eager to know, to finally understand what had happened in the last couple of weeks.

You were looking straight ahead, your thoughts twirling around in a maze of uncertainties. Leaning to your right, you found Wanda was just as confused and nervous as you were feeling at the moment.

“I never stopped loving you.” You confessed unable to look away from those green eyes, “I tried several times to just forget and ripped away my love for you.”

Wand winced her heart clenching inside her chest at those words.

“But I couldn’t and then…” You snorted shaking your head. “Then everything happened, you come back and I just…”

“I love you.” Wanda whispered, her lips quivering and her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I never stopped and it hurts so much knowing that I messed up so big that you…I don’t pretend you want to be with me, and I know after everything things are…”

“Confusing.” You cut in; you took a deep breath before glancing back at Wanda.

Silence fell afterwards, the tension built like an invisible force that was threatening to explode in the outcomes Wanda was afraid of. It wasn’t until that moment that she understood she had been afraid to know the answer to her question, why were you there could have many responses, but Wanda had only written two possibilities: a possible friendship, or give Wanda a chance.

Both outcomes were equally terrifying, and the silence coming from you was the most disturbing thing for her.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak but the words tangled in her throat, you had shifted your position coming closer to her the back of your hand caressing her face and your eyes, those eyes that months ago had looked at her with hatred and anger, were now looking at her with tenderness and confusion. There was something else in there but Wanda was afraid to put a label on it, hope could be such a fragile emotion.

“I thought about your words, Wanda, I haven’t been able to rest since you left.” You furrowed your brows your hand moving away but your face coming closer to Wanda’s. “Tell me, what should I do?”

Wanda found herself lost in your eyes; her throat completely dry while her heart leaped painfully on her chest. Her abdomen filled with butterflies while she tried to find the right words to answer your question.

“I came here because I needed to see you, because I missed you.” You confessed your words hitting Wanda straight in her heart. “But the real reason, Little Witch, is because I don’t want to lose you. Not again. Not anymore. So, tell me, Little Witch, what should I do?”

Time stood still.

Wanda was still trying to process your words, her heart beating really fast with her mind wrapping around what you just said. She could feel your warm breath on her face, the smell of her shampoo on your hair and the sweet scent of chocolate on your breath. Wanda had waited far too long for to give her a chance and now that the opportunity was here she was afraid.

“You…You could stay with me.” Wanda whispered cringing at her response, thinking herself an idiot for not being straightforward.

You snorted shaking your head, Wanda was afraid to see anger or disappointment, but when you put two fingers under her chin and lifted her face slowly all she could see was amusement and…love.

“Whatever you want, Little Witch.”

The nickname rolled out of you sending shivers down Wanda’s back, something shifted at that moment but Wanda wasn’t sure what it was; but even though she was afraid and unsure, she leaned in closing the distance melting as soon as her lips touched yours.

It was like the first time you two kissed.

Tentative and timid, a single touch of lips moulding to the other with trembling hands holding you to Wanda. You missed this feeling so much, her soft lips, the taste that was purely Wanda, how she just gave in without thinking too much; the world fade away and the only person that existed was Wanda.

The kiss broke too fast for you liking, Wanda rested her forehead against yours tears rolling down her cheeks.

“What so you want, Wands?” you asked softly, your hand caressing her cheek and face.

Wanda fluttered her eyes closed leaning into your touch.

“If this is our last day, I just want to be with you.” Wanda’s eyes opened wide, her cheeks burn an intense red while you wiggle your brows teasingly.

“My, Wanda, but give us at least another cup of chocolate.” You chuckled when she slapped you playfully on the shoulder.

“I didn’t mean… I just …ugh, would you stop it?” Wanda tried to hold back her laughter, but with you looking at her amused was kind of difficult.

“You have a dirty mind.”

“You’re the one with the dirty mind, I just said I want to be with you.” She retorted rolling her eyes but without getting away from your closeness.

“So movie and some snuggles?” You inquired fixing your position on the sofa, Wanda nodded playing the movie while crawling to you.

“This is not going to be our last day, Little Witch.”

“I know.” Wanda said with a flash of doubt crossing her green eyes, you wished there was something else you could tell her but for now your words should be enough. “Can we…watch the movie?”

“Whatever you want, Little Witch.”

You moved on your back, putting the movie while letting Wanda decided where she would rest. It didn’t take her took long to crawl to you resting her weight on your body cuddling closer with her eyes turned to the screen her ear placed tenderly on your chest hearing the beatings of your heart. Wanda sighed contentedly when your own arms wrapped protectively around her, and at that moment she knew she was falling in love with you again and this time around things would be different.

______________________________________________________________

Next Chapter: You meet with Wanda once more, this time around a different place and a different, as the world continues its existance you and Wanda are finally giving one another a chance to live. America gets in some trouble, Yelena brings back up, and Natasha can believe she is ready for retirement.

#fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #female reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader

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224bbaker · 14 days ago

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So, hypothetically speaking, if someone had never been interested in Sherlock Holmes before but wanted to get into it because of Fawx & Stallion... Where should they start?

Oh my GOD, anon, so upset we didn't see this until now because what a great question and also, our show inspiring someone to go check out Sherlock Holmes?? Deeply upsetting for our characters but SO exciting for us!

Hopefully since you sent this you've just dived in to the stories--because, honestly, that's how both of our writers got into them as kids, and also because despite what roughly 40 contradicting scholars will try to tell you, the timeline is nonsense and Watson's continuity doesn't make sense (we have made our own peace with this and addressed it in-universe because we didn't want to go on deep-dives to decide what puns we were allowed to use for the place we're at in the timeline it's fine, we're fine).

However, just a quick sidebar before we jump into The Stories--if you would rather start with an adaptation than the original ACD stories themselves, there are two options we'd recommend as starting points that are pretty true to canon while remaining engaging in and of themselves:

The Granada TV series with Jeremy Brett and David Burke/Edward Hardwicke: It rules, and most of it's on YouTube! Highly recommend their Solitary Cyclist, Speckled Band, Scandal in Bohemia, and Blue Carbuncle (we may be biased towards the early, David-Burke-Watson entries). These actors and sets are what we picture when we read Holmes.

For an audio adaptation, the 1989 Bert Coules radio adaptation, which you can get for a single credit on Audible in full and has basically the whole canon! Incredible dramatization work that preserves the stories and really deepens the character work in a way that we're obsessed with. Big fans!

If you're liking the vibe of these, you'll probably like the stories themselves! In which case, there are also awesome online book clubs like Letters from Watson that have great communities here on Tumblr (just peruse the tag, it's super fun!), and also over on Discord.

SO. If you're still here and looking for our direction on the stories:

If you just want to start with what is/will be relevant to Fawx & Stallion, we recommend:

Our goal is that our audience doesn't NEED to have read any Sherlock Holmes to understand anything in F&S. We'll hopefully lay things out or give context clues. However, we do have little jokes for the fans, and in season 2, some subtext may be a bit clearer, or have a bit more weight, if you've read some of the stories.

A Study In Scarlet: I know, I know I know I know, Holmes fans, the Utah Mormon stuff, I get it, BUT. Holmes and Watson meet in this one, and it's incredible. The first few chapters of them meeting, starting to live together, going from roommates with a mutual fascination to, through Watson's unintentional insult of Holmes's writing and a fateful invitation to a crime scene, actual friends, are electric. It's a crime (pun intended) that we have so few dramatizations of this in the canon era (we're trying to fix that), we love it so so much. Sacrilege, but, wikipedia the stuff in the middle, enjoy the fantastic meet cute that bookends the thing.

Hound of the Baskervilles: Happening during the events of Fawx & Stallion season 1. I don't need to tell you this one is a banger, we all know this. Less Holmes content than you expect, but a GREAT setting, mood, and roster of suspects, and a thrilling, well-paced mystery with some great Watson.

The Final Problem: Occurs right before the events of season 2, and though you again don't need to have read it, some stuff might hit better if you have, particularly in the back half of the season. High recommend. On the same note, The Beryl Coronet is also mentioned a few times, which is the case right before this one.

Ok, with that out of the way, we highly recommend:

The "Jump Around To Whatever Short Story or Novel Sounds Cool" Approach

This is the move, in my opinion. As I've said before, the timelines are nonsense, you CAN try to get into the weeds of continuity as we have and there is delightful madness to that, but would I recommend it as an intro? No. They're short stories! They're serialized! Treat it like a TBS rerun series at 1 AM and just pick one that is on/sounds cool!

Now, if you want our PREFERENCE? There are different genres of Holmes mysteries, different types of mysteries for different preferences, but we're going to recommend one particular sub-genre of Holmes mysteries that we find particularly fun/unique: The "It's Not Necessarily A Crime Yet But the Vibes Are There" Mystery.

We love these. They're the best. Not depressing or gruesome off the bat, usually starting with some whimsy at Baker Street, these stories usually begin with a client coming to Holmes and the following interaction happens

CLIENT: Um, hi. Honestly it's pretty silly that i'm even here. It's probably just a Weird Thing, you probably don't-- HOLMES: No no no please tell me I love Weird Things. CLIENT: Ok. Well. My boss/guardian/brother/[insert-person-who-has-power-over-them] has been doing this Thing where he [insert extremely weird thing that again, is not a Crime, but the vibes are there]. It's kinda weird. HOLMES: Yeah, super fucking weird. CLIENT: I know! But it's not a crime, so I don't know, you're probably not interested, I'm just a [not rich not male not high class not privileged identity] so there's really no point in checking that out-- HOLMES: No girl (gn), we are DEFINITELY checking that shit out there's a crime in there somewhere and we're gonna find it!

And we're off! If this sounds interesting to you (and it SHOULD), check out: The Solitary Cyclist, The Red Headed League, The Copper Beeches, The Greek Interpreter, The Speckled Band, The Stockbroker's Clerk, The Musgrave Ritual, The Resident Patient, and honestly probably some others we're missing because it's REALLY common.

Other fun Holmes bangers:

Holmes overworks himself and Watson takes him to the country to rest, only to solve ANOTHER FUCKING MYSTERY: The Reigate Squires

The Christmas One!: The Blue Carbuncle

The Dancing Men: I don't have a fun little thing for this one it's just a banger and the Granada Adaptation rules!

The One Where Sherlock Holmes does NOT fall in love with Irene Adler but does get completely owned because 1) he thinks women don't get up early, and 2) he wanted to have a sleepover with Watson: A Scandal in Bohemia

There are a ton, and hopefully you'll find one that you like and just jump in!

#sherlock holmes #fawx & stallion #letters from watson #granada holmes #acd holmes #asks

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chinolondoner · 7 months ago

Text

Author looking for readers

I'm not sure of the best way of getting people interested in the work of an unknown writer...

Plopped down in the middle of a tropical, Latin American setting, Lullaby for Bishop is set to be a hard-boiled detective series with four main characters: a veteran private investigator in the twilight of his career; a muscle-bound professional wrestler fulfilling one of his pivotal, childhood ambitions of solving strange and wild mysterious; as well as a pair of rumbunctious, teenage, high school girls constantly causing a scene and tagging along for the thrills.

You can preview the first half of chapter one further down below and catch up on the remainder, along with the totality of chapters two and three, all completely for free if you visit my Patreon. It's going to be a little while before this first book in the series is actually finished and officially published, but I feel the smarter move would be to try and elevate as much of a buzz for the featured world and characters before then as possible. I also plan to put out additional pre-release chapters in the near future (likely three at a time). If I have somehow managed not to bore you and you're still eagerly reading, then I do hope you enjoy the launching meta in this tender work in progress and stick around for future updates. Thank you for your interest!

---

Chapter One

Nervously, Donny Boy had begun rubbing his fingers on the back of his neck, seated patiently a narrow foot away from the front of the desk while waiting for our bastard detective to stumble back into his office, suddenly realizing that the price tag had not yet been plucked away or removed from the fanciful hat he was wearing and was still dangling off the rounded edge of the brim.

Looking around the room for a trash bin he could use, Donny Boy's eyes gradually panned across the office, taking note of a few of the usual mosquitoes left splattered on the frosted, scarlet-lettered glass on the door. Dizzying groves of zigzagged patterns tying in the décor on the wallpaper, he spotted an old, unused desk tucked-away in the far, opposite corner of the room, heavy with dust and weighed down by sprawling stacks of postcards and unrecycled newspapers.

His wandering eyes glancing up the rearing rays of shattered sunlight filling in through the narrow, broken blinds on the window, Donny Boy had noticed the row of fancy kettlebells neatly arranged across a flat and sturdy, iron bench scooted against the wall, a dirty, rolled-up yoga mat, along with this stationary, exercise bike for the purposes of one's daily, cardio workout.

Looking up at the rougher dust build up over the years along the edges of the blades on the ceiling fan, Donny Boy was suddenly lured back from his current distractions after Detective Howl Bishop slid back into his office, tossing a used washrag onto his desk after wiping his face and smelling of minty, nicotine gum and aftershave.

“So, what do I call you, kid?” Howl had asked while taking a seat in his chair behind his desk.

“Don should be perfect. Growing up, my next-door neighbor used to call me Donny Boy.”

“Donny Boy, huh?” Howl fought against his urges to fidget with a stack of papers in his drawer. “Sounds good to me, kid. So… are you some sort of circus performer or something?”

“I'm not sure I know what you mean…”

“Your arms… They're freaking huge!”

“Oh… Yeah… I do struggle at times finding clothes that can fit me properly. Also, I wasn't really sure whether or not I should've worn a suit jacket.”

“Yes…” Howl would peek over the top of his desk and study Donny Boy up and down, a salient tone of fascination in his voice. “You really are quite the physical specimen, aren't you?”

“I suppose I do enjoy a good workout,” Donny Boy replied, a little bit bashful.

“You do have a basic understanding of the type of job you're here applying for today, don't you?” Howl asked.

“I believe so… The ads in the newspaper said Experienced private investigator in search of young and capable partner…”

“That's right. And being a private eye, it's important to have a plethora of tools at your modest disposal. One of those tools being the ability to effortlessly mesh into your surroundings. It's important not to stand out too much when in a public crowd or when casually photographing somebody's license plate from across the road. At the moment, I'm having some doubts on that possibly being a strong suit of yours given your current… how should I say… physique.”

“Oh… Well, to be completely honest with you, Mr. Bishop, I haven't even paused to consider that as a possibility.”

“Yeah, well, thinking a few steps ahead is also an invaluable tool to have.”

With more than a quarter of a century of busy detective work under his belt, his hair having grown white as Winter's ashes and the once buoyant Spring in his footsteps having lost some of its feather throughout the years, Howl Bishop was originally from the lands of sunny, Southern California, born on a weekday in a rushed and overcrowded hospital in the blighted city of Los Angeles.

Brought up in a bohemian household, Howl's anxious mother was a failed, Hollywood actress turned “new-age” healer and father was a meddling screenwriter that had spent more of his time obsessing over the quality of the ink in his typewriter than ever inundating his children with any orderly grants of wisdom.

Standing at six-foot even in height, a strong, conquering jaw and with an even tan across his arms and facial features, Howl was one of the many foreign expats sailing over from the States in purge of more permanent roots in Pan de Leones. Old, brown, leather belt holding up his wide, beige-colored slacks, Howl always wore floral, Hawaiian shirts when in settled eye of the public, mixtures of white and pink and with a couple of loose buttons up toward the collar.

With his sharp, Anglo features and light attire, it was entirely common to mistake Howl Bishop for a possible tourist visiting Latin America for the first time, sightseeing across the country and falling for obvious scams at the nearby market. That is, of course, until one caught an initial glimpse of Howl's encyclopedic knowledge of the city's urban layout and sprawling geography, along with his ease of verbal fluency when communicating in Spanish, often conversating with local barkeeps and store merchants on objects ranging from the wise and esoteric to the lurched, mind-numbing, and trivial.

“I would like to procure a general gauge on how comfortable you might be interacting with the more unsavory avenues of human society,” Howl would lean back into his seat and ask, clamping his hands together and placing his palms over his stomach.

“Could you be more specific?”

“In such line of work, one all too often will find themselves having to calmly intermingle with unrested eyes of broken glass and scoundrels. Do you possess any real-world experience dealing with scum and the morally compromised?”

“Uhm…” Donny Boy appeared curtailed by Howl's question, unsure of how to respond. “I once dated a girl that refused to pay off her parking tickets,” he said.

Without managing to reply, Howl simply stared in confusion from his seat across the desk, reevaluating his initial impressions on the kid. Then, squinting his eyelids a little, he felt inclined to change the current subject and asked, “I don't mean to suddenly swerve off topic, but… have we met before?”

“What?”

“Well, I'm looking at your face, right now, and… I can't help but get the feeling that this isn't the first time that we've been in the same room. Do we know each other?”

“I do not believe we have ever met, Mr. Bishop,” Donny Boy was quick to point out in response, laughing out loud a little to himself while nervously shuffling around in his seat. “I've always done alright remembering faces and my mother had always told me it was rude to forget someone's name.”

“Hmm… I guess in my advanced age, my average perception of things has grown a bit muddy. I suppose I simply must be confusing you for somebody else.”

Wide, rugged shoulders, preposterous arms, and with a large, outward, and muscular chest, Donny Boy was young and handsome and had shaded, bronze-colored skin. His lightly brushed hair was a wild, sunflower-blonde of which he maintained in perfect tinge and kept the darker shadows of his roots regularly dyed. Along with the fancy, finely tailored fedora resting on his head, the crumpled price tag of which he had just recently stuffed into his pocket, Donny Boy wore a normal pair of rectangular, blue-framed eyeglasses, granting him a bit of a barbarous librarian kind of a look.

Dark eyebrows and with the small patch of facial hair on his chin routinely trimmed, Donny Boy had entered the office wearing a short-sleeved, white, button-up shirt, the generous, overfed muscles of his upper body appearing to want to tear through the clothing and with a clean pair of ruby-red suspenders attached to the waistline of his denim-blue slacks, tugged and strapped-up over his mountainous shoulders. He also had on a dorky, red bowtie for the occasion.

“How old are you, Donny Boy?”

“I'm twenty-eight years old, Mr. Bishop.”

“And what's your sleep schedule like?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your sleep schedule. Have you developed the habit of going to bed around the same time, every night?”

“I believe so. I've never been one to indulge in any late-night festivities. Why do you ask?”

“Well, when living the demented life of a private eye, it's not uncommon to have to commit to some later hours on the unplanned occasion: car stakeouts after midnight; navigating the craze of urban nightlife on foot; purchasing some nefarious lawyer a hundred shots of overpriced vodka at the stripclub just for a few layers of common information. Do you drink coffee?”

“I've never been much of a coffee drinker, no.”

“Well, you definitely should be. Sugar highs and caffeine are going to be your most reliable friends on those late nights when you most need them. Either that or… well… you know…” Bringing his hand up to his face, Howl used his finger to tap the side of his nose.

“Oh, no way, Mr. Bishop,” Donny Boy immediately replied. “I wouldn't even think of touching that stuff. I've always had a firm stance against any illegal drug use.”

“That's good,” Howl said. “I've noted my fair share of innocent souls throughout my time wasting away from drug addiction. A found sense of longed-for excitement is what initially lures them in. And then, after enough restless days turn to night, enough sleepless nights turn to chaos, suddenly they look up and… the neon lights on the street don't seem as vibrant as they once used to…”

Donny Boy would look at Howl with a sort of strange sense of wonderment, our detective's eyes having slowly migrated across the room toward the window, perceiving what, to him, had appeared to be an expression of profound fatigue captured on his face.

The sound of the vehicle screeching to a halt could suddenly be heard outside on the street, trashcans tumbling over and followed by the angry voice of a young woman shouting profanities.

“Oh no…” Donny Boy muttered underneath his breath, his eyes suddenly wandering over toward the window.

“What about your relationships?” Howl asked. “Do you have a wife or girlfriend? One of the more unfortunate aspects of being a private investigator is the difficulty you might experience maintaining a healthy inner circle. This is often a critical detail that turns the most people away.”

Donny Boy was completely distracted and had failed to pick up a single word, a growing look of nervousness on his face.

“Donny Boy, are you listening?”

The frantic sound of sudden footsteps quickly marching up a flight of stairs could be heard just outside the door to the office, followed by the reactions from Howl's trusted secretary demanding an unknown grouping's identification and honest proof of appointment.

“Move aside, lady! You don't want to have to get injured!” a young woman's voice hollered in response.

“How have they managed to find me?” Donny Boy wondered out loud to himself.

“We have you outnumbered and we're very upset!”

“What the hell is going on out there?” Howl began to react.

Suddenly, managing not to completely fly off its hinges, the door to the office was viciously kicked open, creating a sudden gust of wind that would travel across the room, knocking over a slanted stack of printed papers off the corner edge of the desk.

Standing in the open doorway, visible tension throughout her arms as her hands were forged into concrete fists, a young, teenage girl had a rancid look of anger on her face. A dark, navy-blue blazer over a knitted, bright, yellow skirt, the young woman was dressed in a traditional, school-girl's uniform and had her hair cut down short, visible scrapes and bruises on her knees giving out impressions that the girl was perhaps a bit of a rowdy tomboy.

“Nayaiko! I found him! He's in here!” the young girl shouted back over her shoulder.

She would then come into the office, and shortly afterward, her thin silhouette appearing in the doorway, an additional and secondary, young woman showed her face and seemed equally upset at the current moment. Dressed in an identical uniform as the first, this second girl had her hair much greater in length and stood with long and beautifully braided pigtails poking out the sides of her head.

The second girl entered the office and shut the door.

Standing over Donny Boy who seemed to be trembling in his seat a little, the first girl snarled out of her nostrils and said, “This is the second time this week you tried to ditch us…”

“This honestly isn't the best time, girls,” Donny Boy said, his voice a bit shaky.

“You know, we were standing outside the changing booth for thirty-five minutes before we realized you weren't there,” the second girl would report. “You told us you were trying on some hats!”

“I did! Look!” Donny Boy then lifted the hat up off his head to showcase. “I ended up purchasing this really awesome fedora for myself. It's really cool, isn't it?”

Neither girl seemed to want to take the time to respond. They simply crossed their arms in defiance and stood with a pair of inconsolable scowls on their faces.

Continue...

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morganas-pendragons · 19 days ago

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Grey | Celebrimbor

something very short to tide you over until i have enough energy to write the rest of the wedding fic (thinking about adding a jealousy drabble and a teasing drabble too...)

tag: @celebrimbormylove @erebusbabylon @ladyoflindon @pentaghasm @thesolarangel @thatlittlered

set during the siege.. will tie into the eventual 3 parter fic

***

A single chain falls from your neck as you kneel to examine Celebrimbor’s injuries. You yourself are injured, a wound inflicted to your arm and thigh that drips blood as you tend to the Elf you love who lays on the floor. No matter. Your pain is nothing compared to that of his own.

Celebrimbor is barely conscious, hanging on to the waking world with one hand on his face while the other ventures across his chest and thigh. He’s been much more oriented to the comfort of touch since meeting you. Craving it, seeking it out from you as a selfish man who takes from a giver.

You are more than happy to provide. It distracts him, which is exactly what you were intending to do.

“You aren’t supposed to have that yet,” He croaks. His throat feels as if he has swallowed sand. What one would not give for the mercy of water. “I had it planned…”

Planned?

You keep him talking to distract both yourself and Celebrimbor from the pain. Your leg aches beneath you, the fire from the wounds inflicted by Sauron’s blade burning down to the very bone as you grit your teeth and persevere.

“What? The ring? Mirdania gave it to me when He arrived. She said I needed to keep it safe. What was your elaborate plan, My Love?”

Celebrimbor confesses to you in the darkness and ruin of his forge that the ring around your neck is a symbol of the proposal he’d been planning for weeks prior to Sauron’s arrival. There had simply just not been time to follow through on it.

He is in the middle of explaining said proposal when he realizes all the arrows are out of his chest.

You grin. His handprint stands proud against your cheek, scarlet contrasting against your skin. He hates to stain such purity.

“I… I don’t… how did you do that?”

The circlet on your head grows warmly as your fingers drift downward to his chest.

“You always did say I was magical.” You muse softly.

Celebrimbor does not remember much after that. He remembers feeling quite warm, warm like the fires when winter falls in Eregion and remains curled on his chaise while sketching for his newest project. Warm like the first time he dared to kiss you in the rain, long and slow like the drawn out notes of a crescendo in the melody that is the song of your love drawn out across the years.

More importantly, he is no longer tormented. He is safe from Sauron. That is the most important part. Now you just have to flee from the city.

Sauron’s screams echo outside of the broken tower as you pull away, thankful that your abilities can at least grant him reprieve from the pain. You’re not sure you’re able to fully heal a wound inflicted by another Maiar.

The stone in your circlet dims.

“How do you… Oh.”

He raises a brow. Ah. There it is.

“What is it?” Celebrimbor asks.

Laughter breaks past your lips as you reach out to run your fingers through greying strands of hair streaked with blood. “I’m afraid I’ve gone and made you grey, love.” You say. “Not intentionally. Although, it does quite fit you. Perhaps to make you look even more distinguished then you did before.”

Celebrimbor holds your hand and spreads your fingers apart to kiss each individually before dipping his head to kiss your wrist. “I consider it a love letter,” He muses weakly. It is still painful to move. Painful to think. “I can tell others it was the first real confirmation that you loved me and I knew it to be true.”

You slowly raise him to his feet and brace your good arm around his waist. Celebrimbor, in turn, presses a kiss to your temple and slowly follows you out of the forge to what will be safety.

Shortly enough, you will both be far away from here, and the worst of it will have ended.

#Celebrimbor x Reader #Celebrimbor #Rings of Power #Rings of Power fan fiction

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redtsundere-writes · 1 month ago

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Part 23: Wrapped Around My Finger

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count: 5354 words.

A/N: Goddamn I have been so busy lately uwu

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

Sukuna had always been a curse shrouded in shadows. Despite his imposing height and bulk, he possessed an unmatched ability to blend into his surroundings. A skill of great importance that allowed him to silently stalk, infiltrate enemy territory undetected, and listen to forbidden secrets just a few meters from his victims. A skill that had guaranteed his survival and made him a legend, along with his ancient technique. However, lately, he was being careless.

No matter where you were, you could feel the weight of his four scarlet eyes on you. A chill ran down your spine every time you felt him nearby, like a ghost wandering around you. When you looked back at him, he would look away with feigned indifference, as if the encounter was mere chance despite living under the same roof and following a random path. If you asked him if you could help him with something, he would always reply with a dry: “Nothing for now.” What was that about then?

Sometimes, you didn't even need to feel the weight of his gaze to know he was near. Small bowls of freshly cut fruit, small flower bouquets, or a cup of steaming tea would magically appear like anonymous offerings. You knew only he could have left them, though he would never do so face to face. Sukuna had a peculiar way of showing interest, a strange mix of pride and caution, and this time, you could understand exactly why he was so stealthy.

The letter had rattled him. His mind took him to fantastic places when he saw you and thought of the words you had written for him. He was fascinated by the adrenaline that ran through his body when he now knew what you were hiding under that innocent gaze. His daisy wanted him as much as he wanted you, and there was nothing that satisfied him more than that. He wanted to hear you recite that letter so that the words would come to life and fulfill his wishes, but the right moment was just around the corner.

It was finally coronation day. The day Sukuna would become king of the Jogo kingdom and name the land after him. Servants ran around to get the castle ready to welcome all the curses in a grand celebration. Cooks prepared absurd amounts of food, servants placed golden decorations along the walls, and guards calmed the inhabitants so they wouldn't get excited about entering early.

You whined in pain and held onto Mrs. Inoue's shoulders to tolerate it. The 8-armed thin seamstress tightened the corset tightly as if she were stuffing a pig into a tube. The golden corset of the dress was too tight around your stomach and bust. Mrs. Inoue held your hips to hold you in place so you would stay still. This was the first time this happened, and the embarrassment was new. It was a shame, since the dress was beautiful. It had several layers of light, translucent fabrics in shades of cream. The top of the corset had ruffles that highlighted the chest, and the long skirt was as light as a feather. The curse growled profanities until the corset finally closed.

“God, I feel like I’m going to throw up,” you grumbled unwillingly as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Maybe that way you’ll fit into the dress,” the seamstress groaned.

Hearing that, your hands instinctively held your stomach. You didn’t think about your weight constantly, but that comment still made you feel bad. Though, that worry disappeared as you felt Sukuna’s presence upon arriving at your room.

“How’s everything going here?” Sukuna examined you as usual.

Mrs. Inoue and you gasped in unison at the sight of him. His outfit was simply perfect, so much so that it left you speechless. This time, he wasn’t wearing his usual robes that hid his muscles. Instead, he wore a short, bright red jacket, with intricate gold embroidery on the sleeves that caught the light hypnotically. Under the jacket, a tight black top revealed the large mouth on his abdomen. A gold medallion hung over his chest, imposing itself with every movement.

He wore loose black pants decorated with red geometric patterns and leather gloves that left his fingers exposed, adding a touch of toughness. Finishing off the outfit were black shoes that clicked with every step. His hair was perfectly combed back, though some unruly strands fell over his forehead, his eyes were lined, and his eyelashes curled, giving him a magnetic and careless look at the same time. He looked so good that your mouth dropped to the floor.

“Wow, he looks like a prince!” Mrs. Inoue exclaimed.

She smiled at him, thinking he would thank her for the compliment, but instead, Sukuna looked at her with pure hatred. How dare a vile mortal demean him in such a way? He was a king and always would be. He was about to raise his fingers to slit his throat, but you quickly entered the conversation.

“She means he looks really handsome!” You defended her, getting in between them to protect her with your body.

“Ah…” Sukuna quickly calmed down at the clarification. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Inoue and you sighed in relief. You asked the lady to leave the room, to which she quickly obeyed. “I was almost feeling like I was leaving,” she thought, holding her neck as she retreated to prepare for the coronation. As soon as she closed the door, you turned your gaze to him. Even though you had already seen him, your gaze scanned him again.

“And what do you think?” Sukuna asked you, adjusting his sleeves.

It was a difficult thing to answer. Sukuna as a king was intimidating, fierce, and shocking. A curse that imparts terror just by being in the room. But… There was something about him that you liked physically. His well-combed hair, his sharp gaze, and his well-defined abs. After living a year of curses, Sukuna was still the best looking.

“He looks perfect,” you replied with a smile.

Sukuna scanned your dress. The ruffles highlighted your cleavage, the corset narrowed your waist, and the skirt complemented your beautiful legs. He spun you around a couple of times like a lion about to bite. It was just what he had imagined for his coronation. A king couldn't be crowned without having a beautiful woman at his side.

“You look perfect too,” Sukuna answered bluntly.

Their eyes met, and the world seemed to stop at that moment. He took your hand with unexpected gentleness and placed a slow kiss on your knuckles. Heat rose to your cheeks immediately. You felt your heart racing, as if it wanted to escape from your chest, but this time you weren't going to let it dominate you. Now that you knew you were just a piece in his game, you promised yourself not to fall for his tricks. You waited a second, letting him hold your hand, and then, with a slight smile, you pulled it away to smooth out the dress with a certain indifference.

“Good job,” Sukuna congratulated the curse seamstress. “I want to see how the dress will look for the Zen'in ball.”

“It looks amazing, although…” The curse approached Sukuna to whisper something in his ear. “… it would look better on someone who fits into the dress.”

A tic attacked his left eye upon hearing that. He could accept that the curses killed, tortured or ate humans, but he would never accept that they made fun of their physique. Sukuna hid his lower arms behind his back. A reflex from his past that he hated more than anything.

“Y/n,” He called you. You looked up to meet his gaze through the mirror. “Close your eyes,” he ordered.

You looked at him through the mirror. Once upon a time you would have obeyed him without hesitation, but this time you hesitated. The uncertainty of not knowing what he was planning ate away at you inside, paralyzing you. After a few seconds of hesitation, you finally obeyed. A thin, precise cut resonated in the room, piercing the silence like a fatal warning. It was the unmistakable sound of death, an echo you would have recognized anywhere.

“You can open them now,” Sukuna whispered in your ear.

Your eyes snapped open as you felt his warm breath brush your ear. His firm hand descended to your shoulder, and, without giving you time to react, he pulled you towards him, turning you precisely on your heels. Before you could process it, he was leading you out of the room and into the hallway, his presence enveloping you like an inescapable shadow.

“What happened?” You stammered in confusion, looking back. A large pool of blood marred the beautiful ivory carpet.

“I got rid of a pest,” he said with a macabre smile. You had no choice but to follow him.

The murmur of the crowd increased with each passing second. The coronation was about to begin. Sitting next to Mrs. Inoue, you watched as Kenjaku took care of adjusting the last details of Sukuna’s outfit, making sure every fold was in place. From your seat, you looked at his broad back, his imposing figure ready to step out onto the balcony. Excitement vibrated in the air like an invisible current, but the king, unfazed, did not show a trace of nervousness.

“Ready, my king?” Kenjaku asked, reaching for the door handle to the balcony.

“I was born ready.”

Kenjaku opened the doors to the balcony, and the shout of curses rose in unison, echoing like a wild roar as Sukuna raised his arms, rejoicing in the frenzy of his followers. The curses jumped in excitement, elated at the sight of their new king. They cared little about King Jogo’s death; all that mattered was that an even more powerful curse would take the throne, protecting them and guaranteeing their right to hunt humans without interruption. For curses, there were no bloodlines, wealth, or territories. They only submitted to the law of the strongest.

“Curses, with you, King Sukuna Ryomen!” Kenjaku announced loudly for all to hear.

You looked out over the balcony and looked at the entire kingdom gathered in the courtyard of the castle. It was a festival of monstrosities, an ocean of creatures screaming and singing in wild celebration. The variety of their forms was overwhelming: huge and tiny, with twisted horns, tails, sharp teeth, and bodies that barely seemed possible. Some were almost human in appearance; others were nightmarish distortions, a veritable museum of oddities. Lady Inoue, at your side, looked away in fear, unable to bear the sight of that disturbing crowd.

“It has been six months since I defeated King Jogo. It has been six months since I conquered this beautiful land to make it my own and name it after myself…” Sukuna began his speech.

Under his command, the hubbub immediately died down. The first words of the leader of this new era were to be recorded in history, a moment that everyone there would remember until the end of their days. The curses present felt themselves to be witnesses of something momentous, an event that they would tell future generations with pride: “I was there.” Sukuna proclaimed his absolute power and claimed that he would drive the petty sorcerers from his sacred lands. He urged them to follow only his commands, promising that under his leadership they would prosper far more than they ever did under King Jogo.

“From now on, I will be your king and your lord! The only one you must obey for the rest of my life and the next to come!” Sukuna announced proudly.

Kenjaku approached him with a large box covered in a velvety red cloth, lifting it with ceremonious slowness. With a calculated gesture, he removed the cloth, revealing the magnificent crown that once belonged to King Jogo. It was a work of art made of pure gold, with sparkling rubies embedded around the entire circumference. Its design evoked flames, with spikes rising like tongues of fire frozen in metal. In the sunlight, each ruby sparkled, and the gold seemed to burn with a life of its own. It was an awe-inspiring sight, a jewel fit for a king.

Sukuna took the crown in both hands, raising it so that the ecstatic crowd could admire it. The sun sparkled from every facet, casting golden and scarlet reflections on the faces of those watching from below. You had never seen anything so imposing or beautiful in your life, and judging by the looks of the crowd, neither had they.

With confident movements, Sukuna placed the crown upon his head. In that instant, the crowd erupted in a deafening roar. Howls, barbaric cries, and indescribable sounds filled the air, a roar of wild euphoria that reverberated off the castle walls. Sukuna smiled from cheek to cheek, pleased. This was his moment; nothing could match the intoxicating feeling of power, of being the focus of all devotion.

And that, he thought, was the reason he always returned to this land he so despised: for the unmatched adrenaline of seeing an entire nation kneel before him, of feeling his strength and will subdue the masses. But this was only the beginning. When he finally extended his rule over the sorcerer kingdoms, when he crushed each of his enemies beneath his feet, the glory would be indescribable. A new era of obedience and terror was coming, and he, the one true king, would be in charge.

“My first order as king, I want to make it very special.” Sukuna looked at you with a smile as resplendent as his crown. “Y/n…”.

You looked at his hand extended towards you, stunned, as if it were a dream. Now all that deafening attention was focused on you. Your heart was pounding, and you felt the heat and nerves mix in a whirlwind that made it impossible for you to distinguish one from the other. With a slight tremor, you reached out your hand, and he took it with a firmness that anchored you to reality. At his side, on that balcony that seemed to rise like a pedestal, you understood the weight of the position you were in. Sukuna, the indomitable king, had chosen you for this moment.

“Remember this face because in less than a month you will be my equal,” Sukuna exclaimed. “My first order as the king of the kingdom of New Sukuna is…”

He extended his hand to Kenjaku, who handed him a small box wrapped in dark suede, the soft material contrasting with the hardness of the moment. It was almost unreal, but it was finally happening: the day you had waited for a long and torturous month, a time filled with doubt and anticipation.

Sukuna, the imposing king, knelt in front of you. The image was so powerful that you could barely breathe. Slowly, he opened the box, and inside it shone a ring that seemed to absorb and reflect all the light of day. The gold of the ring glowed as if it were alive, and in its center, a large oval-cut ruby sparkled with a deep red, as if it carried fire itself within it. Around the ruby, small flowers of finely cut diamonds sparkle, adorning it delicately. The order you had so long awaited finally happened:

“Marry me.”

There it was. Finally, he had spoken the words you had so longed to hear. But something was different, and it didn't feel the same as that first time. That afternoon in front of the piano had been one of the most beautiful moments of your life. The soft melody echoed in the room as the sun cast its last rays through the large window, bathing everything in a soft gloom just before the candles were lit. You remembered it clearly: his hands on the piano, yours brushing against his with every movement, as if that closeness was enough to break any barrier between you. There was an indescribable peace at that moment, a calm so deep that it made you forget, even for a moment, that you were next to a tyrant who had ordered you to kill one of your own.

Sukuna was a vile and ruthless tyrant, but even so, he managed to make you feel in a way that no one else could. You feared that intensity, not so much for what he could do to you, but for what you would be capable of doing for him. The first order had been clear: a test of loyalty. What else did he have planned for you in the future? Only he would know, and you had to be prepared for any dangerous storm.

“Yes.”

The crowd erupted in jubilation at his words. With a bold gesture, Sukuna lifted you up and placed you over his shoulder, displaying you with unmistakable pride, as if you were a trophy worthy of his power. You could feel the strength in his grip, his confidence enveloping you as he lifted you up for all to see. You smiled nervously, trying to maintain your composure as you waved like a shy princess. The crowd responded with cheers and shouts, a sea of faces lit up with joy and devotion, while you, from on high, tried to adjust to this new role you had assigned yourself.

“Let us celebrate this new era until dawn!” Sukuna announced the beginning of the party.

The band of curses played with unbridled enthusiasm, their trumpets, tambourines and bongos resonating in a chaotic but festive rhythm. It was a grotesque carnival, full of creatures, dancing without rest, devouring enormous quantities of food and drinking as if dawn would never come. The echo of unknown songs bounced between the walls of the empty corridors, mixing with the guttural laughter and the roar of celebration. In the midst of that chaos, Sukuna's firm steps marked a different beat, resonating like a war drum. In the middle of the party, he had ordered you to follow him. He didn't give you time to obey; in the blink of an eye, he took your hand determinedly and led you away from the bustle, towards a silent room.

The meeting room was plunged into darkness. The armchairs, upholstered in fresh and austere fabrics, seemed to await long conversations that never happened. The stone table, imposing, cold and covered in a thin layer of dust, as if it had been forgotten. The curtains, thick and heavy, remained closed, enveloping the room in an air of almost suffocating privacy. A faint smell of storage floated in the air, testimony to the disuse of the place. The candles, extinguished, let the scarce light that filtered through the windows guide their movements.

Sukuna led you to an armchair and, with a gesture that seemed more like an order than an invitation, indicated that you should take a seat. You obeyed silently, placing your hands on your lap, where the ring that adorned your finger captured your attention for an instant. It was a bright and beautiful symbol, but also a reminder of the weight of the promise you had made to the king. Sukuna removed the heavy gold crown and placed it aside, needing a moment to rest from the burden of royalty. His face, though relaxed, did not lose its characteristic severity, and his gaze studied you in the dim light as if he were evaluating something more than just your presence.

“Happy?” Sukuna gently took your hand to kiss the ring.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” You smiled.

“I was saving it to surprise you at the Zen’in ball, but I couldn’t wait any longer to call you mine.” Sukuna purred against your ear.

Sukuna gently pulled you closer, placing small, fleeting kisses on your cheeks, while his chest rested against your shoulder in a gesture that seemed both possessive and warm. The touch of his lips on your skin was enough to make you blush, but this time you were not going to let yourself be dominated by his calculated movements. Not anymore. You wouldn't let him play the same trick on you twice in a row.

"I'll be glad to, my king," you whispered.

With a determination that came from deep within you, you abruptly turned your face and captured his lips with yours. Your hands, firm but trembling, tangled in his hair, pulling him towards you. Sukuna let out a soft moan of surprise, the sound vibrating between the two of you like a low note. But far from stopping, his reaction was different: he adored your bravery, that spark that ignited something wild inside him. Without hesitation, he lifted you up and placed you on his lap, his large hands running over your body with a mixture of delicacy and greed, as if he were trying to memorize every curve, every detail that made you unique. His golden accessories jingled with every movement, creating a hypnotic contrast with the intensity of the moment.

One of his hands slowly ascended your back, brushing each vertebra, until it rested on the back of your neck. With a slight tug, he pulled you towards him, deepening the kiss with an intensity that left you breathless. His other hand found your waist, gripping you with the same strength he had that confusing night, the night you understood nothing and he knew even less. Now, you were in the same page. His lips on yours spoke of understanding, of desire, of something deeper that neither of you dared name out loud.

His dark heart, full of ambition and shadows, beat hard against your chest, ecstatic to finally have you as he had fantasized so many nights. It wasn't just an act of passion; for him, it was a conquest, an achievement as addictive as any victory on the battlefield. The heat of his body seemed to envelop yours, as if the two of you could merge into one, as if the outside world ceased to exist in that instant.

When he finally pulled away, he did so slowly, as if he feared breaking something sacred between the two of you. His lips parted just enough to allow her to take a breath, while his gaze, dark and intense, remained fixed on yours. He still held your face, and at that moment, there was no trace of doubt: both of you were caught in a game that you could no longer, nor would you, stop.

“You have no idea what your letter has awakened in me.” Sukuna smiled, thinking you would kiss him out of excitement, but it disappeared when he saw your frown.

“What letter?” You asked innocently, tilting your head in curiosity.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. You know what I’m talking about.” Sukuna tried to pull you towards him to kiss you softly, but you moved away to continue the conversation.

“What are you talking about?” You asked again. Sukuna’s frustration was starting to show.

“The love letter, the one you left under my pillow,” he explained, losing his patience over a stupid joke.

But the serenity on your face made it clear to him that you weren’t joking. Your eyes flickered with genuine confusion, and your lips remained still, not drawing the slightest curve that could be interpreted as mockery. Every line of your expression conveyed sincerity, and it disconcerted him more than he cared to admit. Sukuna sighed in exasperation and reluctantly pulled you off his lap.

“I really don’t understand what you’re talking about,” you commented as the king paced back and forth across the room, wondering how he could get the truth out of you.

“Stop lying!” he exclaimed, annoyed. “You wrote this!” Sukuna pulled the heart-shaped letter out of his pocket to toss it to you. “Did he have it with him all this time?” you thought in amazement.

The delicate piece of paper, which was supposed to contain your most sincere feelings, gently landed on your lap like a leaf carried by the wind. You opened the letter instantly, letting your eyes scan each carefully written line. As you moved forward, the poetic and profound words were laying bare emotions that seemed not to be yours, but were signed with your name. Each sentence surprised you more than the last; the weight of its intensity hit you like an unexpected revelation. This was the first time you had read that letter.

“I wish I could write poetry as beautiful as this,” you commented as if you were talking about another novel in the library.

“You said you had a surprise, and boy was I surprised!” He exclaimed, pointing with his finger of anger, but at your silence, he exploded. “Just admit that it is your letter!”

“So many essays and reports that I have given you, and yet you still don't know how to recognize my handwriting?” You asked with some disappointment.

“What?!” Sukuna snatched the letter from you to examine it again.

He examined every stroke, every curve of the letters, every carefully formed word in each sentence. And there was the truth. Your handwriting, now more elegant and refined thanks to the calligraphy lessons Kenjaku had given you at the beginning of your classes, was unmistakable. The writing on the letter, however, was a mess. Messy, impulsive, lacking the discipline that marked your style.

How had he not seen it before? How had he been so blind, so caught up in his own fantasy, that he did not perceive something so elementary? Reality hit him with the force of a sledgehammer, as if the entire sky had collapsed on his head, crushing him under the weight of his own blindness. His pride, as imposing as his conquests, now seemed to break into a thousand pieces in the face of such a simple and devastating truth.

“Also, how could I have made you two letters with a single sheet of paper?” You asked, confused.

The king’s scarlet eyes widened as he noticed you pulling another letter from your skirt pocket. For an instant, disbelief marked his features. Sukuna took the letter with firm hands, although surprise was evident in his grip. It was a letter to congratulate him on his coronation and the renaming of his new land: New Sukuna Kingdom. The words were proud and had no hint of romance.

This letter did not have the ornate frame like the one that decorated the love letter; it was simple, but it's handwriting, delicate and neat, was unmistakable: yours. As he inspected both letters, comparing them, his eyes darted between the stylized strokes of the new letter and the messy handwriting of the first. The difference was irrefutable. “How stupid I am!”

“So… Who is this letter from?” Sukuna looked at the love letter with some disappointment.

“Maybe some lover.” You crossed your arms in annoyance.

“Lover?! What are you talking about?!” Sukuna roared at such an accusation.

“No idea, but this…” You pointed at your engagement ring. “… It's still mine” You threatened in case I wanted to leave you for the author of the letter.

Sukuna clenched his fists, loaded with exasperation and something deeper: a pang of humiliation that pierced him like a dagger. Never, in his entire existence, had he sunk so low as at this moment, when for a fleeting and miserable second he allowed himself to believe that his fantasies could materialize. The mere idea of having nurtured that illusion infuriated him as much as it embarrassed him. He, the great king, the imposing tyrant, reduced to a naive dreamer by a simple game of letters.

“If you'll excuse me, I'll return to the party. Mahito promised to teach me how to dance,” you bowed and left the room full of confusion as quickly as possible, hiding a victorious little smile.

Sukuna collapsed into the chair, as if the weight of his own mind was crushing him. He put his hands to his head, his fingers pressing against his temples, in a vain attempt to sort out the chaos that consumed him. That you were not the author of the letter, that he had not been able to notice that the handwriting was not yours, and worst of all, that you faced his accusation with such devastating coldness, as if it had not affected you in the slightest. Each thought was a dagger that sank deeper into his chest, making the emptiness inside him feel like an infinite abyss.

The pain manifested itself in a way that he himself did not understand. A couple of treacherous tears slowly rolled down his cheeks, tracing unknown paths on a face accustomed to expressing anger, arrogance or mockery, but never vulnerability. Sukuna stood still, paralyzed by the disconcerting revelation: this was the first time he had cried in a long time.

But why? Was it helplessness at the broken illusion? Frustration with himself for having fallen for something so ridiculous? Rejection for what that brief conversation had made clear to him? You didn't have the same feelings for him. He knew that now. But then, why did you kiss him back? His mind returned again and again to that moment, searching for answers in the movements of your lips, in the way you looked at him. There was something there, something he couldn't figure out. He was lost, confused, and alone.

“Damn it!” Sukuna screamed, throwing the crown across the room, breaking a lamp into a thousand pieces, imitating his sad heart.

The party consumed you completely. You danced barefoot alongside Mahito, Dagon, Hanami, and the rest of the curses in a large circle on the parade ground. They jumped to the rhythm of the band's chase while a curse sang a ballad dedicated to the king. You smiled as Mahito guided you through the movements. Two steps to the left, one turn, then two steps to the right and repeat until exhaustion.

“Let the happy queen dance, let her dance!” The troubadour announced to the same rhythm of the catchy song.

“Let her come to the center, let her come!” Mahito pushed you from behind so you could enter the large circle.

The curses applauded euphorically as soon as you entered the improvised dance floor. Mahito and Hanami encouraged you from their places to bring out your best moves. With a blush rising to your cheeks, you decided to listen to the rhythm. As soon as you began to jump and spin with your hands up, the curses howled in approval. You laughed as the evening wind and the grass tickled your heels.

Everything was happiness until you saw the king on the balcony. He was looking at you with that same face you had seen in the mirror a couple of nights ago. That disappointed, humiliated and frustrated face of not getting what he wanted. You continued dancing so he could see you in all your splendor, until the song ended on a long note. You blew him a kiss in the air as soon as the song faded into the silence of the celebration. Sukuna's face was surprised by that action. It reminded him of that time when you shot his cheek, only this time you shot his heart again. He clenched the balcony railing in frustration that he could alter his emotions with so little.

The next song started, and the curses joined you to dance chaotically around you. You caught your breath after your big solo. Mahito danced with Hanami and Dagon. Kenjaku drank a glass of wine with Mrs. Inoue. Sukuna had finally expanded his kingdom. And you had taken your little revenge, but this was only the beginning of a new stage. You didn't know what the future held for you, but you were sure that you would emerge victorious, as you had Sukuna in the palm of your hand.

“Thank you, Yorozu, for teaching me your disgusting tactics,” You smiled at the ground because you knew that bitch would be wallowing in hell.

Masterlist.

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dsireland86 · 3 months ago

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Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

“Maybe I'm sick, maybe I'm already dead/Cause I'm not really scared of what comes next/Maybe I'm sick, maybe I'm fucked in the head/'Cause I'm not really scared of the consequence” -HEDONIST-

Sunday: Midnight

“Look at her. She's so fucking gorgeous sitting there with her head back and mouth opened, waiting for our cum.” I stroke her face, humming in approval when she leans into my touch. The sight of her on her knees before the two of us, with her hands tied behind her back and wearing nothing but her black bra is a sight to behold; one that I'd been dying to see since the day I first met her. “Who’s going first?” Folio asks.

I turn to him, feeling like I’m staring into a mirror. The black ski mask covers most of his face. Only his eyes and mouth are visible, with a little bit of skin showing around each. The band's white logo, the symbols of death, peace, and mind, stand out among all of the black like a scarlet letter, baring the images of sexual perversion and degradation in her mind, no doubt. “Why don't you go first? Show me how good her mouth can fuck.” Folio nods, undoing the button of his black jeans.

I shift my gaze back to her, staring directly into her dark orbs that are wantonly awakened. The small smile, trapped in the corners of her mouth, makes the flutter in the pit of my stomach reach my cock. It twitches, throbbing with such an ache for release that I’m quickly losing my grip on my sanity. Her eyes drop, following my hand as I palm my erection hidden beneath my black stage pants. The way she stares, narrowing those beautiful eyes and clenching her jaw, makes the fire slowly burning through my veins ignite into a hot blaze. She wants this, more than I ever thought she would, leading me to think maybe she doesn’t hate me as much as I thought she did.

I want my turn with her. I want to feel her fuck me with her mouth until she’s gagging and spitting as I grip her by the hair to keep her in place. I want her to take me over the edge and make me lose control. But I need to watch first. I need to watch the way she fucks her lover, who happens to be like a brother to me, and make him cum. It’ll be my turn after that, one of the very many I’m free to have with her just for tonight.

Saturday: Early Morning

God she sounds beautiful. Her cries of pleasure ring throughout the house, bouncing off every wall, ripping through the silence and replacing it with her song of sexual fulfillment that could only be given to her by one man. She’s hungry for him, begging for more of what he’s putting down and from the sounds of it, he seems to be delivering. Folio’s got it all with her and it’s my fault. I let it slip out of my hands because my ego was louder than my love and somewhere in between, the lines blurred together. It got too hard for me to tell the difference between love and lust and eventually everything just blew apart. I was blinded, too dumb to realize how she really felt about me. Now it was too late.

Motherfucker.

The lewd sounds coming from the bedroom are unsettling and I can’t help but envision the two of them tangled up in one another, doing whatever it takes to get the other off. They both sound so desperate and needy, pathetically at the mercy of the other. I chew on my lips out of a nervous habit, fighting the temptation of wanting to watch them, to see their bodies come together in ways I've only ever thought about. I want to watch Folio wear the mask as he takes her, invades her and fills her full of him. I want to watch how she responds to him, the expression on her face changing with every new thing he does to her. I want to watch her cum.

No. Shit. I want to feel her cum.

I begin to palm my swollen cock beneath the table, massaging slowly at first, but as her sounds grow louder, I unzip and take myself fully into my hand, going harder and faster in hopes of soothing the intense pressure building up. My dick is throbbing, the consistent pulsing pushing hard against my hand until finally, her sudden shrill of ecstasy rings through the deadly silence. I release my cock right before my climax hits, slamming a clenched fist down on the table while suppressing a deep growl of dissatisfaction for not meeting my own expectations. Out of breath, heart racing, and legs trembling, I stay seated, waiting for everything to come back into focus. After a few minutes, I stand up and adjust myself, taking a deep breath and letting it out quickly.

I glance down at the table. The hollow eyes of the black ski mask meet mine. Its empty stare feels like it's challenging me, daring me to go through with the idea I've had in my head for days. The mask; it knows me, because it is me. Picking it up, I slip it on and glance into the nearby mirror. It sits well on me. Just like it always does. Turning my head left and right, I stare at the man before me, shifting my sight from the white embroidered logos of death, peace, and mind, to my eyes, dark and narrowing. What will she think when she sees me? What will she say, if anything. I think too much when it comes to her. Fuck. She really is the death of my peace of mind.

Closing my eyes, I envision the blackness of the yarn running across the pale, delicate flesh between her legs as I devour her, eating her between her luscious folds until she’s crying my name and clawing my skin. I envision my covered nose dragging along the trail of her clit, breathing in the scent of her and stopping just above her entrance to circle the delicate pink flesh that's dripping wet. My whole body shudders. I’ve never wanted anything more than the way I want her. She's the only pleasure I want, the ecstasy I would kill for a taste of. I run my hands over the black yarn, and peer through the cracks of my fingers at the face before me.

I’ve come to loathe the sight of it. It’s a face of trouble and regret and nothing good could come from it. The reasoning behind Folio’s request two nights ago has been eating away at me. He said he's worried about her, concerned that too much of the past is hurting her more than it should be. It's my fault. All of it. I played games with her heart and eventually she got tired of my shit. When I saw she was moving on, finding the love and attention she wanted and needed in Folio, I got pissed off, jealous that she wasn’t all about me anymore, or at least I thought she wasn’t. So, I got drunk at a party one night and fucked some random girl in a bathroom. I thought I’d won until she walked in on the two of us right as I pulled out and came all over the back of the girl whose face I don’t even remember. I'll never forget the look on her face. It shattered my heart, burning its way into my memory forever. It scared my heart. I ran after her but then watched her run right into the arms of my best friend.

Pain. Agonizing hurt. Bitterness. All of it flooded my head, taking over every thought until I was finally honest with myself. I was in love with her, but I was too toxic for her. She didn’t deserve me. She deserved Folio. He would protect her heart; make her feel safe. He would dry her tears and hold her close, doing his best to mend the heart that I had shattered. Because of how much I hated myself, I shut them both out. At times, I think I was meaner to her than I was before I fucked everything up, yet too selfish to care about the heart I broke. I couldn’t get past my own hurt while I ignored hers. Thank god everything eventually smoothed over. The past got buried leading me to believe she got over it and moved on with Folio. But maybe I was wrong to believe that. Was she still living in the past, with hurt and pain that she never actually got over, only threw a band aid over just like I did?

Which brings me back to the reason I’m here

He’s given me permission to have a masked affair with her, but only if she’s willing. The idea is so fucked up; Folio allowing me to violate and penetrate what he’d fuck another guy up over if he touched her the way that I want to touch her. I can’t wrap my thoughts around any of it. “Folio! Hey, I’m running over to the cafe for some breakfast. Do you want me to bring you two anything?” “Yeah, that would be great, thanks. We’re just…, we’ll be out in a few minutes.” “No rush. You two sound busy. I’ll be back in a few.” I stand at the door for a moment, fighting the urge to open it, leaning my forehead against it and taking a deep breath before walking away. I toss the ski mask on the table as I pass by, walking right out the front door, pulling it closed behind me.

“I'm taking it slowly, you'd never know/How quick it gets lonely here at the top/Her skin feels unholy, but I'm still drawn/The morals I'm holding, you know they're gone. -Bad Decisions-

Sunday: Midnight

She’s confused when I grab both of her wrists and gently pull them behind her back. “What are you doing?” I can sense the alarm in her voice and it makes me grin with satisfaction. After tying the knot around her wrists, not too tight but enough to know she can’t get out of the restraint, I lean over her shoulder and run my covered nose up the side of her neck, clenching my jaw as she leans her head back just enough for me to kiss the hollow of her throat. “I want you at my mercy while I do all the sick, perverted things I’ve been dreaming about for months, Princess.”

Her shallow whimper weakens me. I’m hard as a rock and a part of me hates it, hates her, for making me want her this much, and I hate myself for not having more self control when it comes to her. My jaw ticks with the rhythm of my pulse as I grab her by the hair, yanking her head back further and looking deep into her eyes. They skim over the mask covering my face and I catch the glimmer of desire in them. “God, Noah,” she breaths. The sound of my name slipping from her pink, luscious lips arouses me, making me more desperate than before.

“You look…” but she bites her lip instead of finishing her thought. “Don't bite your lip.” My stare is fixated on her. “Why?” “Unless you want to find yourself slammed against the wall with my hands pressed between your legs and around your throat. Do you want that?” She shakes her head as best she can. “Good. Then get on the bed and on your fucking knees for me, Princess.” A devious smile spreads across her mouth as she willingly obeys, but not before getting swept up in a heated kiss from Folio. His skin against hers is something they’re used to seeing, but I’m not. And even though it shouldn’t, it turns me on. He whispers something in her ear and she nods, but I catch the swift move of his finger swiping up her wet pussy, noticing how her body responds to it; automatically aroused.

She looks back at me and stands on the tips of her toes. I know what she wants, so I indulge her by taking her lips by brutal force, groaning as my tongue plunges its way into her mouth and licking deep. Her response has the pre-cum slipping from the slit on my cock soaking a small spot of my briefs. “On the bed, on your knees, and ass up, now, Princess,” I growl against her lips.

Saturday: Afternoon

She’s sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter with her arms folded tightly across her chest, staring down at the floor below her. A few moments ago, when she came out into the kitchen and saw me standing here, I swear if looks could kill, I’d be dead.

She fucking hates me.

Peering up, she scowls at me, eyebrows coming together to form the cutest angry face I've ever seen her make. I snicker, but she just rolls her eyes and looks away.

Shit.

But then she looks back, locking me in an intoxicating stare that’s harsh and unmerciful, and I can’t get a breath down as I drown in it. But I welcome it and all the pain that comes with it. “Hey man, are you sure she’s up for this? Have you even told her yet?” I tap Folio on the shoulder to get his attention. He shakes his head. and my brain immediately starts to freak out. “Fuck, Folio! No wonder she’s pissed. You didn’t tell her anything?” “No.” His answer is taut and quick. “Great. She already hates that I’m breathing. This idea is likely to cause her to drive a knife through my chest! I thought we already talked about this the other night!” “Will you stop being so damn dramatic, Noah! Chill, dude!” he says, raising his voice. Folio may be smaller than me, but he’s feisty as hell. And when he raises his voice in a certain tone, one knows he’s serious. It’s obvious to me he’s pretty fucking serious right now.

“Look, you think whatever you want to, okay, Noah? But I know my girl, like I know my kit and my Harley, alright? Yeah, she’s still kinda angry about the past, but not enough that she wants you dead or anything close to that. But you two have shit you need to work out. It’s been too fucking long that the hostility and weirdness between the two of you has been going on."

I scowl, completely caught off guard .

"You’re not the only ones it’s affecting, Noah. It’s killing me, and both of you keep beating around the fucking bush, meeting on the one side, only to turn around, avoid each other, then meet on the other side, again. It’s ridiculous and it has to stop. All the bickering, the awkwardness when we’re all together and the fact that neither of you can be left in the same room together without fighting, is starting to piss all of us off. Not to mention the fights she and I are starting to have, but that’s besides the point.”

I frown, confused “Fights? You two are fighting? Folio,” “Don’t, Noah. Our relationship is not your business.” Folio rubs his jawline. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shake my head over thinking there is no way any of this is going to work. But Nick’s right about one thing. She and I do have shit to get over. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing I say or do will ever make things right between us.

“There is no way she’s going for this, Nick. There’s no chance in hell she’ll even let me near her let alone… allow me to touch her.” Those last words hit my heart hard. "All I’ve wanted for months is to just hold her and tell her I’m sorry, but we can’t even be in the same room together for too long. I'm actually surprised we've lasted this long." “Well, something's keeping her here. She hasn't gotten mad at you yet." “That’s because you’re here,” I scoff. Folio growls in frustration “Noah, listen to me,” he orders, clearly annoyed. “Ever since the night of that party, I’ve had to watch her beat herself up over and over again, trying to put the broken pieces of her heart back together. I’ve done what I can to help her, but there’s a piece that’s missing. I see the way it’s affecting her and she doesn’t even realize it.

“Okay, so what does any of this have to do with me and her?” Folio rolled his eyes. “God, you're so freaking dumb sometimes, dude. You're the piece, Noah! Shit! You've always been the piece.” “What…what do you mean “I’m the piece”,” I stammer. Folio sighs, removes his hat to run his hands through his hair, then puts it back on, inhaling a deep breath and exhaling it quickly. “There are nights when she's asleep that I hear her say your name. It's never dramatic, nothing sexual. Just simple. Sweet. For some damn reason, you still mean so much to her, Noah. I can’t, for the life of me, understand why. I mean, it was bad enough when you took your shit out on me, hating me and whatever, but the way you treated her, when she wasn’t even the one who did anything wrong, dude… you fucked her up pretty good. The games you played with her mind, Noah… you don’t even know man.” Folio shakes his head, turning away from me.

“So that’s what this is all about? Closure? Tying up loose ends?” I grumble. “More like you taking responsibility and owning up to what you did. Admit to her the truth so she can stop feeling like shit about all of it.” “I only did what I did because she dropped me like a bad fucking habit, Nick, and moved on to you! Fuck!” I run both hands through my hair, pulling at the roots with frustration from all this insanity. “You were even between her legs that night, man! I heard the two of you. So, don't preach to me about how bad I hurt her! She didn't fucking care about me.”

“Really, Noah! That’s how you justify it? When are you going to understand that she only gave up waiting for you? She didn’t give up on you. She only came to me, falling into my arms that night, because she caught you fucking another girl after she spent countless days, weeks, hell even months, trying to show you that she wanted you. Don't you dare say she didn't care about you! She cared way too much for you! You shattered her heart for no good fucking reason other than your ego was wounded. She tried showing you, Noah. She tried telling you that she wanted you, but you ignored her. You played sick mind games with her. You know you made this mess, and now I’m telling you, you’re going to fix it. I’m give you the fucking chance to fix it!”

I bite my tongue, holding back all the things I want to say but know I shouldn’t. Folio is right about everything, but for some reason I can’t let go of wanting her to accept the blame for what she did to me when she moved on so quickly with my best friend.

“What chance are you giving him, Nick?” Her voice startles both of us. Folio looks at me eyes wide and full of regret. This wasn’t how he wanted her to find out. She hops down off the counter and comes over to us, walking right past me like I’m a ghost. Her persistence in ignoring me pricks my heart. Folio throws his hands on his head, messing with his hat nervously. I need to be the one to handle this. I’ve caused my brother enough grief. “A chance to fix the past. A masked affair, Princess,” blurting out just as Folio opens his mouth to speak. Slowly, she turns and looks at me. “I’m sorry, what?” There’s no mistaking the surprise in her voice.

“A masked affair. You do know what an affair is, right?” “Yeah, Noah, I know what it is,” she states, clearly irritated. Ohhh, she’s getting pissy with me. It won’t be long now before the two of us are arguing. "Good,” I grin, taking a step closer towards her only for her to take a step back, but she doesn’t turn and leave like she normally does when I make her mad. My eyes quickly snap up to hers, locking them in a heated stare; one that's instigating my inner depravity.

I feel that familiar feeling I get every time she and I start to fight, but this time, there’s something more to it; a certain tension that was never there before, drawing the two of us together. And the fact that she’s not running from me this time, is alarming. “Then, maybe you can show me if that mouth is good for something else other than sarcasm.” There’s a fire that ignites in her eyes and it makes my heart slam into my chest like a fist to a punching bag. Every beat of it bridges the gap between us.

“Excuse me!” “Holy shit!” Folio utters. “Noah, what the fuck?” “What?” “A bit much, don’t you think?” I laugh. “Not enough.” She stares at me and Folio, her narrow eyes darting back and forth between us. “Okay, one of you better tell me what the hell is going on, right now.“ “I will if you come here.” “No! Not a chance, Noah,” she snaps. I clench my teeth, tossing my head from side to side to relieve the tension. Her unwillingness to submit to me only turns me on even more. I guess it’s time to get dirty. “Alright, let's try this again, Princess. And if you get pissy with me again, I’ll make you sorry for that mouth. Now, come here,” I demand, raising an eyebrow. Folio is quiet, unsure if he should interject or not.

At first she just stands there, seemingly unsure about where this is all coming from and where it could possibly be going, making me think she’s not going to do as I told her, but then she surprises me by taking a few awkward steps towards me. “That’s better. Now, look at me.” I expect to find a lot of angst when she does, but instead I find tears and it rips my heart apart. I did this to her. I caused her pain. And as I wipe the tears away that slide down her cheeks, surprised she doesn't pull away, I can no longer control my need to kiss her. I have to fucking kiss her. With one hand, I gather the back of her hair and gently yank her head back, hearing a soft whimper fall under her breath and use my other hand to wrap around her throat. Licking my dry lips, I glance over her sweet face and in an instant our lips crash together in such a heated kiss that it could set the place on fire. My lips glide over hers as I kiss the corners of her mouth, slowly dragging my tongue to the middle of her lips and biting down. The second she gasps, I slide my tongue through her parted lips and stroke hers, massaging it the same way I know I’m going to massage her pussy later.

Her hands gather the sides of my shirt, unexpectedly pulling me closer and causing me to stagger like a drunk man. But then she pulls away and the sudden loss of her lips is torture. “I hate you,” she sneers, pulling herself out of my grip and shoving me away from her. Her chest is rapidly rising and falling, proof I've kissed her well, and her cheeks are covered with a pretty shade of a deep pink flush. Her aggression towards me is intoxicatingly hot and all I want to do now is grab her by the hair again, bend her over and fuck her senselessly until her moans turn into screams for me. “You hate me, huh,” I echo her claim. “Yes,” she spits. “I hate you.” I fight the urge to kiss her again. “Why?” “You know why, Noah. Don’t make me say it.” “Maybe I do know,” stepping closer, “but maybe I want to hear you say it. Tell me why you hate me.” I grab her wrists and she gasps. Our bodies are almost touching again and I can feel her warmth radiating onto me. This is the closest I’ve been to her in months.

I forgot how beautiful she is. Her freckles, her brown eyes, her laughter lines, all of it makes me ache with misery over what I did to her and what it cost me. “I don’t want to. You already know,” she accuses. But I won’t accept her answer. “Please, tell me. I need you to tell me, Princess,” My plea comes out as a whisper only she can hear and I know I’ve let my guard down too far when the hard glare in her eyes softens and so does her resistance against me. My heart is pounding, feeling like it might explode out of my chest, because of how vulnerable I’ve just made myself. “Because you were cruel to me Noah. You broke my heart and you didn't even care.” And there it is. There’s the fucking slap to the face, the punch to the gut, the salt to the wound that I've been waiting for; the one I deserve. She closes her eyes and more tears spill out, running down her face and smearing the faint traces of her makeup.

The amount of rage that swells inside me is enough to flatten an entire city. It’s not just rage for the shit I did, but she did as well. The way she crawled into Folio’s bed and allowed him between her legs when she didn’t get what she wanted from me, or pushed me away the many times I tried to apologize to her. No, she wasn’t the only victim here. We both were. But if there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure of now it’s that she doesn’t hate me. She only thinks she does. And I’ll convince her she doesn't once I’m between her legs, buried deep inside her and showing her how much I ache for her just like I know she aches for me. “I cared, baby. I cared more than you'll ever know.” She looks at me confused. “Then why didn't you,” “Why didn't I tell you? I tried. But you were so focused on your hurt and getting fucked by my best friend that you didn’t notice.” A look of shock sweeps across her face. “I heard the two of you that night and every night after. And I saw you, too, one night by the pool. You were wearing that little red one piece that hugs your body so well. I watched Folio rip it off you and fuck you against the concrete before yanking you into the water where he made you cum.” Her face is flushed , bringing out the pretty shade of red on her cheeks. “And then there was the night he fucked you on the kitchen counter before bending you over the table and plowing into, making you scream. God, he was a fucking beast to you that night. I got so mad that he was that rough with you.” I caressed her face, wiping away her tears. “I cared, baby. You just didn't give me the chance to tell you." She was so quiet, fighting hard to get control of her emotions.

“Noah, I’m,” I capture her lips in mine, silencing her apology before she even gets those stupid, goddamn words out, the same ones I've been needing to hear after all this time. But now that I'm about to, I don't need her to say she's sorry. I just want her to not hurt anymore. “Don't,” I shake my head. “You don't need to,” I pause, clenching my teeth and taking a deep breath through my nose. “You don't hate me, Princess.” My cock is burning erratically, throbbing recklessly to the point that it’s maddening. I yank her head back by the hair again as my hand reclaims its place around her neck, rubbing my thumb along her jawline and disarming her from anything she’s about to say next. Her breath hitches in the back of her throat and she tries to swallow, making the small bump of her Adam's apple enticing enough to eat; and that’s what I do. Without hesitating, I lean down and take a bite, biting down lightly but with enough force so she knows I’m the one in control. She cries out softly, wrenching down on my shoulders, and digging her nails into my skin. I hiss beneath the bite, sucking the spit up before turning the bite into a pretty reddish bruise. Grazing the skin of her throat with my teeth, I turn the biting and sucking into a kiss.

The loud gasp she makes as I breathe in her scent, penetrates my veins and crawls its way to my memory and I hum in approval as I taste her salty skin on my tongue feeling the subtle yet powerful whimpered moan that escapes her vibrate against my lips. My cock twitches just enough for her to feel it against her belly. “Noah,” she whispers my name as I suck the skin of her neck some more, leaving faint little marks behind, claiming her as mine now; even if it’s only for tonight. Her hands snake around my neck, depending on my strength alone to hold her up. “You know what I hate?” I growl, lifting my head to face her, kissing her lips before continuing. “I fucking hate the way Folio touches you,” I say, the distaste of the idea clear in my tone. Folio takes a few steps towards us. The man’s on the edge of his seat and I couldn’t be happier. I run my nose up and down her skin, turning her head and breathing her in on every side.

“I can't stand how he looks at you, how he makes you his with every scream, every moan that you make when he fucks up into you,” sneering through clenched teeth, tightening the grip I have on her. She swallows hard, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes again when I lift my head to look at her. “I heard you this morning, too, Princess. I was sitting at the table, wearing the black mask, envisioning I was the one fucking you while getting my self off. I almost did. And that fucking fantastic moment you came for Folio, all over his face,” I smile, kissing her again, “god, I can’t explain to you the way it made me feel. I envy Folio. I envy everything he has with you, because it should be mine.” Her eyes dart back and forth as she’s holding her breath. I'm under her skin now, making my way quickly into her veins. It’s just a matter of moments before she gives in to me. “You sounded so fucking beautiful. The way he fucked you must have been satisfying. Was it?” I caress the side of her face with the back of my fingers, leaning down and kissing her cheek. “I bet I can make you cum harder, though. What do you think, huh?” She whimpers, making the fire in my abdomen ignite and I feel the wetness of my underwear against my erection. Fuck. Taking a shaky breath, I run my hand over her neck, releasing my grip for a moment to lean down and take her lips with mine, this time forcing my tongue into her mouth. At first she fights with me, but then I feel hers run over mine, allowing me to meet hers and together, our tongues dance. My knees grow weak. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this game up.

“God, you have no idea how much I fucking want you! The thoughts that I have about how I want to fuck you and punish you for letting another man put his hands on you. How much I want to strip you naked and pound into that sweetly soaked pussy of yours that you allow Folio to fuck whenever he wants,” I growl against her mouth as she releases a needy moan. “Noah,” she whines. I slip my hand under her shirt just to graze the skin beneath the waistband of her shorts. I can tell her nerves are on fire from the way goosebumps prickle her skin. “I want it, Princess. I want all of you, but can’t have it,” She closes her eyes briefly as more tears slip out from the corners of her eyes. “Noah,” she softly whines again, letting her hands fall to my shoulders. “Not until you say I can.”

She gasps, blinking a few times. Without saying another word, I turn her head and run my nose, lips and tongue up the side of her neck, taking the bottom lobe of her ear between my teeth and suck on it before pulling away. The whimper she gives me makes my cock ache deeply. “Fuck, Princess, I wanna ruin you, damage you inside and out until all you know is the shape of my cock,” I mumble, nipping and kissing her neck some more. She’s wrecked from my words alone. I smile at knowing I’ve won. “I'm done waiting,” I tell her harshly, laying my forehead against hers. “Waiting for what?” she questions, her voice quivering. “To get what I want, Princess.” She swallows hard. “And what do you want, Noah?” she softly asks.

“I want you. I want your sex, I want your taste in my mouth. I want your cum on my cock. I want you to let me fuck you, to sink my dick so far into you, hitting that spot that’ll have you screaming until your voice is hoarse and I break you and make you feel empty when I'm done. I want to ruin you and make you take what I give you until you’re begging for more, never satisfied until you can feel me in every single cell of your body for days. I want you, Princess. Every single part of you.”

I release her but she makes no attempt to separate us. Her hands have left my shoulders, standing fully on her feet now, but I can still feel her grip on them. Her chest is quickly rising and falling. She’s fighting all the thoughts running through her mind, including the ones I’ve planted. She’s going to tell me no. I can feel it. I can see it in the look on her face. I brace myself for the let down. “Fine,” she says, in a voice sure and strong. I grin, taking a deep breath and letting it out quickly. I’ve won. “See, you don’t hate me. You do like me.” Her jaw clenches.” “And you know you want me.” She looks away. “Dammit, Princess , why can you just admit the truth? Why do you keep lying to yourself?” When she doesn’t answer, Folio steps in between us, looking only at her. “Tell him, Sweetheart. Tell Noah the truth. I'll be okay, I promise. I know you love me.” “I'm in love with you, Nick, you’re my world,” she cries as more tears trickle down her cheeks. Folio smiles softly at her. “I know that too, baby. It's okay. Just tell him the truth,” he encourages her. Her eyes meet mine. I can’t read them. There’s too many mixed emotions. “You want me to say it? Fine, I'll say it. I fucking hate your guts Noah Sebastian. I hate everything about you; the way you look, the way you smile, the way you laugh,” she pauses and steps closer to me. “I hate the way you make me feel; so helpless, so weak. And, hate… fuck! I hate the way I fucking love you, Noah. I hate that I want you! Are you happy? I fucking want you.”

My heart explodes inside me, leaving me feeling like I’ve won everything, but lost it all at the same time. She loves me. She wants me. But I can’t keep her… I can’t keep her. So if I can’t keep her, then I need to make sure I leave enough scars for her to remember what happens here tonight. I will ruin her. I’ll damage her so she won’t forget about us, forget about me and that for one night, she was mine.

TO BE CONTINUED....

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