#ikaris fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cdragons · 3 months

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"La Vie En Rose" - Ikaris x Eternal!Reader

Summary: You and Ikaris are finally ready to take a big step in your relationship. The two of you hare details about yourselves to really show how much you two have loved one another throughout your entire existence and since the failed Emergence.

Warning(s): MDNI 18+, very heavy smut in the beginning, loss of virginity, Persephone!Reader/Sephia is demisexual, spoilers, talk of WW2 and its aftermath, mention of suicide, Druig and Kaety are mentioned, almost character death, author tries to talk about music but has no musical background

Author's Notes: I think this might be the longest Ikaris oneshot ever on Tumblr, with a whopping 9.2k word count. For context, I would go to this masterlist, and read the very first post. I would like to thank Grammarly for making sure I don't write like a hill-billy. A huge thanks to @ethereal-athalia for her help. A lot of these ideas could not have been done without her input. I hope y'all have a wonderful Valentine's Day! I also plan to make a Valentine's Day for Druig x Hecate!Reader

Inside the Ritz’s Suite Chopin in Paris, clothes were sprawled across the room. Your dress had pooled on the ground where Ikaris zipped it off you as soon as the door closed. His suit jacket and tie had been removed before you two entered the room. Despite how frantic your movements may have seemed on the outside, you and your lover knew that this moment had been long overdue.

The blue rings in his eyes thinned as his pupils widened at the sight of your strapless bra with its matching lacy cheeky-cut underwear and garter belt. After you ripped his dress shirt and buttons flew across the room, you marveled at the mass of muscle and heavenly skin by softly revering his body with your touch.

You traced every scar and line on his body as if handling a priceless painting. Ikaris sharply hissed at the feeling of your feather touch ghosting over his body. He responded by lifting you in his arms and wrapping your legs above his hips while he kept a firm grip on your soft, ample bottom. He felt your muscles tense before relaxing, and your body melted into his embrace as if the two of you were bodies were born to be together.

“I love you,” he whispered with each kiss he pressed on your skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Ikaris,” you panted, “don’t stop. Please don’t ever stop.”

Trailing kisses down your neck, your lover never took his lips off yours as he carried you across the living room to the boudoir covered with pomegranate flowers. Laying your body gently on the goose feather duvets, Ikaris stood utterly captivated by how your hair framed your face like an ethereal halo.

The sight was nothing short of heavenly.

The luminosity of the moonlight shining through the overhead window gave your form a celestial glow. Your divine figure, added with the contrast of colors from the blossoms on the stark bedspread, made him wonder if this was all a wonderful dream instead of his cruel reality.

Sensing his fear that you were only an illusion, you sat up and took Ikaris’ hand from his side to press a gentle kiss on his palm.

“Ikaris, I am here. I am with you. We are together – now and forever, forever and always.”

Overwhelmed with happiness, your immortal paramour felt a mountainous burden topple down as the relief of knowing this moment was not a figment of his imagination. His Adam’s apple bobbed as tears welled up in his iridescent blue irises.

Ikaris brought his other hand to cup your other cheek before lowering himself to plant a feathery kiss on your forehead. He closed his eyes – savoring the feel of your skin on his lips as he tried to memorize the scent of your hair with the fragrance of the pomegranate flowers surrounding you.

“Ikaris,” you softly begged, “please kiss me.”

And who was he to refuse such a sweet request?

Pressing his lips to yours, Ikaris felt you lower yourself until your back was fully pressed against the bedspreads underneath them. No matter how much his lungs clenched for air, he refused to part for even a breath of air. But you softly pushed him back. Ikaris opened his eyes – prepared to ask if you needed to stop. But he stopped himself at the sight of your lust-filled eyes with the blush on the apple of your cheeks. You reached behind your back and unclasped the hooks of your brassiere before removing the rest of your undergarments.

Time slowed down frame by frame as Ikaris watched you further reveal yourself to him. A part of your hair fell forward to cover your breasts as you lowered your head and fixated on your gaze on the silky scarlet petal of the flower you rubbed between your fingers. Scars and marks dotted your body from battles between deviants in the past. Ikaris knew he was the only man you let see so much.

You sighed as you couldn’t help but feel like shrinking into the shadows as he stared.

“I don’t…I know I’m not as pretty as most of the women you’ve slept with. My body is a bit…, and I’m not as willowy and lovely as Kaety or Sersi. Even Thena is so beautiful and strong. My hips have a weird dip and –” You felt like crying for ruining the moment. “I’m making this so awkward – I’m so sorry.”

Ikaris quietly sat across you for a moment. Then he tipped your chin, and you were forced to look at his stern expression but heated gaze.

“Sephia, your body…it’s lovely. There isn’t a woman or creature more beautiful than you.”

You scoffed inelegantly, but Ikaris shook his head.

“I’m serious. Sephia, I – everything about you is so mind-bogglingly wonderous and beautiful. I have thought so since we first met on the Domo. Who could possibly have given you the idea otherwise?”

You leaned into his chest and let out a deep sigh. “It was no one in particular. I just noticed that men continually gawked at my chest whenever we settled into a new location. They would always stare when I wasn’t looking. Sometimes, when they were drunk, they would tug on my dress and comment that I was either too big or too small. It’s why I preferred to wear their clothing. I thought I attracted too much attention from my Olympian Attire, so I hoped to be noticed less in their garbs. I tried telling Ajak, but she told me not to pay attention to their actions since they were only curious. But it didn’t stop until I told Kaety.”

Hearing your explanation, Ikaris’ hold on you tightened. Once more, he was in your friend’s debt. How dare those lowly men cause you so much strife? Had he known of your troubles, he would have ensured that those fools feared for their lives. But he knew if you were aware of his thoughts, it would only push you away – so he remained quiet.

Instead, he planted a gentle kiss on both of your cheeks and whispered to you how honored he was for this moment. His hands caressed your thighs, and he had your legs straddled on his hips as he made sure you were comfortable on his lap. He let you take the lead by wrapping your arms over his shoulders and groaned at the feeling of you pressing his chest against your bare bust.

The way he moaned your name made your stomach clench. “Sephia. Thank you. I will show you how beautiful to me– tonight and every night from now on if you’ll permit me.”

You nodded your head against the crook of his neck. You didn’t trust your voice to convey your love for the man with you tonight.

But Ikaris needed more. “Say it, Sephia. Look me in the eye and tell me if you want us to continue.”

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head to show your trust. “I want you to continue.”

Bringing you in for a heated kiss, Ikaris and you explored each other’s bodies with your hands as your lips were locked in a familiar embrace. He then trails kisses down your chin and travels down your neck and across the tops of your breasts. You wondered if he could hear how hard your heart was beating against the confines of your rib cage as you panted for air.

Ikaris used one hand to cup one of your flushed breasts covered in love bites and kisses. On the other, he put his mouth on your puckered nipple and swirled his tongue around the areola.

You slowly rocked your hips and whispered for more. “Ikaris, Ikaris, Ikaris – more, more, please.”

Your body was his paradise, and you were his angel. Everything about you – the perfume of your skin, the silky luster of your hair, the addictive scent of your arousal – it was both all too much and never enough.

Switching breasts to continue his services, Ikaris wondered if he could get you to cum without directly touching you down there. He felt emboldened by the challenge with the breathless praises spilling from your lips that were swollen and red from his kisses.

He traveled down to your navel while continuing to trace his tongue and lips across your skin until he stopped at your navel. Dipping his tongue into your navel region, your initial reaction was a giggle, but then he used both of his hands to reach for your abandoned mounds to massage them. The rough calluses on his fingers gave way to new sensations unbeknownst to you, making your laughter change to moans.

Arching your back, you called out his name with your sweet voice. “Ikaris- Ikaris! It’s too…it’s too much!”

As you arched your back, you pushed your chest further into his hands. He tendered cupped them before giving them a hard squeeze and then used his fingers to pinch your nipples. Twisting and tugging them brought tears to your eyes as the pleasure from the attention he granted to your bosom with the swirling of his tongue in your navel.

The feel of Ikaris’ hot tongue contrasting with the cooling spit from his saliva only added to your rapture. You felt your stomach tighten into an invisible coil as you clawed and grasped onto the bed covers to ground you. The coil became tighter and tighter until your lips started to tremble as your core clenched around nothing, and your mouth opened to let out no noise as your vision went white. Your body squirmed, and you clamped your legs to unsuccessfully quell the sensations.

Ikaris’ mouth traveled down to your nether lips as he removed his hands from your breasts to spread your legs and put them over his shoulders. Although the sight of the Eternals’ strongest fighter between your legs was certainly an arousing view, you couldn't contain snorting at the absurdity of it all.

Your cerulean-eyed beloved raised a quizzical brow to showcase his offended feelings.

“And what, pray tell, do you find so amusing right now, flower?” he asked in a monotone voice.

“I’m sorry-” you couldn’t stop laughing “-I’m so sorry – I just never imagined being in this situation with you – with anyone.”

He gave you a flat look for you to continue.

You went on with your explanation. “For so long, I have never felt this way. You- you aren’t the first person I’ve been with – romantically, at least – but I could never feel myself wanting to go further. It always felt like something was stopping me. For so long, I thought something was wrong with me. And then, after talking with Kaety and Phastos, I thought I might be asexual. But it hadn’t been until those moments we spent in the field outside the village that I- I felt a bond transform from friendship to what I didn’t realize to be love to- to this.”

You stopped laughing and lifted your torso on one elbow to reach him. You cupped his face with one hand, and Ikaris nuzzled his face into your palm – welcoming the feel of your silky touch. In your eyes, there was enough love to make the world outside this room disappear.

“I haven’t felt this way for anyone but you. It was such an unexpected surprise, but I wasn’t scared. I think it was because- well, despite everything, I never felt unsafe around you. Ikaris, the years I spent with you after Thanos’ Snap and before the Emergence were some of the happiest years of my life. I don’t think there are words to describe how much I love you.”

It was only when you stroked your thumb on his cheek that Ikaris realized he was crying. As Ajak’s most trusted and loyal soldier, he had an image of stability to maintain. Before his suicide attempt in flying to the sun, he could count the number of times he cried throughout his life on one hand.

The first was when a deviant managed almost to sever his spine. The pain was so terrible. It took the efforts of Ajak and Kaetlyn to stop him from bleeding out and close the gash, but not without a garish scar across his back.

The second was when you left him and what remained of the team after Kaetlyn and Druig left in response to the genocide of Tenochtitlan citizens from Spanish conquistadors. He was hurt and felt betrayed. He called you weak and naïve to believe that you, Kaet, and Druig had better judgment than Arishem for humanity’s future. While your leaving broke his heart, his sobbing resulted from the pained look on your face from his words. He cried for three days after your departure.

The third time was after he killed Ajak. It broke his heart to kill the one he admired and followed for so long. She wanted to stop the Emergence and stop Arishem’s Grand Design of the birth of a new Celestial. But to do so was to condemn you to a slow and painful death, and Ajak knew that. The Avengers destroyed your regained health when they brought back the rest of humanity.

Ikaris knew that destroying the planet you loved so much would have brought you more pain than your illness, but it was humanity that weakened you so much from the beginning. If the Emergence must occur, Ikaris was sure he could ask Ajak to convince Arishem to allow him to keep his memories. If he had, he would have been able to love you from the beginning of everyone’s rebirth.

But he failed, and it nearly cost him you and your sister. The memory Druig implanted in his mind would haunt him forever. It was so unnatural to see Kaety so lifeless, so cold. The sight and Aisling’s screams with Laoise’s cries made it worse.

The fourth was when he stood before Sersi as her frame kneeled atop Tiamut’s emerging body. You lay unconscious as you allowed your new leader to use your cosmic energy to kill the infant Celestial but also to use your body as a medium to use the Celestial’s infinite amount of cosmic energy to revitalize the Earth. Standing in front of his sister as she kneeled next to your body, Sersi was ready to accept her death at her brother’s hand. But Ikaris could not steel his resolve to aim his heat vision at her heart.

He could not kill his sister – not when she was the one person he could ever love as much as he does you. She was the only person who trusted more than anyone in the world. She knew all his secrets and was the first to realize his love for you.

Just as Kaetlyn was your sister, Sersi was his. And so all he could do was let himself be used to destroy Tiamut, give one final goodbye to his sister, and give you one final kiss before he flew to the sun.

Your voice broke him from his thoughts. “Ikaris? Are you all right?”

“Yes, flower,” he answered with a smile. “Thank you.”

“‘Thank you?’ Whatever for?” Your confused expression was so utterly adorable.

“Everything, I suppose,” he said while shrugging. “Sephia, you said you never imagined making love to anyone for thousands of years. But for me, it was all I could think about with you. As I said that night on the balcony, ‘I was made to love you.’ And I will say these words and show you how much I mean them for however long you permit me.”

Your heart sang out to his at his sweet words. You reached to pull him down for a kiss before whispering in his ear.

“Ikaris, will you make love to me?”

“Yes,” came his immediate answer. “But first, I must prepare you.”

“Has that not been what you’ve been doing so far?”

Your immortal worshiper gave you a lascivious grin in response. “My petal, this had only been the beginning.”

Your hands clenched his hair in a feeble attempt to get him to ease Ikaris’ feasting. But all your actions brought were him spreading your legs further apart. The feeling of his tongue flitting over your clit as he drove fingers to furiously thrust inside your cervix to the point of making you weep in ecstasy.

It started with one, then it became two. Soon, he added the third, and the pain from the stretch quickly drove you to a state of nymphomania. It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, and it was far more intense than its predecessor. You felt your body spasm for a little bit before relaxing into the mattress as Ikaris languidly stroked your walls to carry out your climax for as long as possible.

This wasn’t the first time he had eaten you out, but it was the first time he could do so without interruptions.

As your essence spilled on his tongue, Ikaris let out an obtusely loud, close-mouthed groan, and its vibrations added to your overstimulation. Your body’s nectar was ambrosia worthy to be tasted only by gods. It was addictive enough for an Eternal such as himself to get drunk on it and crave its taste for all eternity.

He removed himself from the bed before frantically unbuckling his belt and stripping himself of his black slacks and boxer briefs. The way his shaft sprung out and its head hit Ikaris’ naval region made your eyes widen. It must have been around eight inches long, and the sight of it made you unconsciously clamp your legs close. It was pulsing dark pink with veins running along its length, and its head looked so swollen and red that it neared to purplish hue with a pearly white bead of precum leaking out.

You’ve seen corpses and anatomical diagrams. Kaety was the more explicit one out of the two of you. She had no qualms sharing even the most graphic details of Druig’s…thing.

But this was the first time you saw it in person, and you didn’t realize men could be so…big.

“Does it hurt…being like that?” you hesitantly asked as you reached forward to touch it. But he softly grasped your hand from getting too close.

Ikaris chuckled at your innocence. “It doesn’t hurt per se, but it is very sensitive. And if you touch it, I cannot promise you that I will last long enough to enjoy it.”

Kneeling on the bed, he carefully grabbed his length and positioned it just outside your soaking womanhood.

He cupped your cheek and brought your eyes to him. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Don’t think about me. Do you want this?”

Looking into his eyes, you drowned in the overwhelming sea of love that was his beautiful blue eyes. You admit you still felt a twinge of fear. But more than fear, more than lust and desire, you felt safe. What you shared with Ikaris was more than how you ever hoped to feel with someone. It was real – what you shared with this man was true and went beyond physical attraction. Your bond with him had only grown stronger since his return; nothing would ever change that.

“I’m ready,” you whispered as you felt the increasing rate of your heartbeat. “I love you, Ikaris. With all of me.”

He positioned his cock until its head had just entered you. You sharply sucked in a breath.

“I’ll do my best to make it as painless as possible. Take a deep breath if you need to. I won’t move until you feel like you’ve adjusted to it. We can go as slow or as fast as you want. I promise.”

“I know,” you replied. “I trust you.”

He gently pushed himself inside you inch-by-inch. The stretch of your walls around his manhood was almost painful. He was halfway inside you when you asked him to pause with two thin trails of tears running down your eyes.

“I just -” you gasped, “- I just need a minute.”

Ikaris softly stroked your cheek before catching a tear under your eye. “It’s okay. Take all the time you need.”

When you nodded to show you were ready, Ikaris continued to insert himself inside you until he fully bottomed out slowly. When he reached his hilt, he let out a mighty groan and husky rasp as you took a sharp and loud intake of breath. Despite how well-lubricated you were, the stretching of your cervix to accommodate his size was more than you expected. Thankfully, your lover did not move for the sake of you being able to adjust to the feel of him inside your tight walls.

Ikaris propped himself on one of his elbows as he hovered above you. He bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his moans, but the feeling of him being swallowed by your warmth was more euphoric than he could ever dream it to be. He lowered his head enough to kiss away the tears from your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered so sweetly. “This discomfort will pass, my love. I will not move until you are ready.”

Thank the stars he prepped you earlier. If he hadn’t, you weren’t sure you would have been able to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. It was the strangest sensation. You felt so full – as evidenced by the slight bulge protruding from your lower stomach – but the fullness was almost comforting.

It was evidence that you and your love joined bodies and became one.

You slowly wrapped your legs around Ikaris’ waist. Despite the discomfort, you wanted to feel as close and connected to the beautiful man hovering above you as possible. Soon, the pain lessened to a sting, and it dulled further before shifting to pleasure. It was not long before you craved the friction from Ikaris’ shaft moving inside you and slowly began grinding your hips against him to ease the ache inside you.

Ikaris could feel the fluttering of your cervix and your walls becoming more slick from your increasing arousal. Feeling your hips moving against him, he couldn’t stop the teasing leer at your squirming and the soft moans and whimpers leaving your lips.

“Does it feel good? I wonder how it would feel if I did this–” he pushed his hips to give a shallow thrust and reveled at the way your back was so beautifully arched.

Your cries were no longer laced with pain but adorned with shock from the unexpected pleasure.

“Oh? You like that?” he chuckled in smug amusement. “Fuck, your body is so responsive. You have no idea how much your sweet cries add to my ego.”

“I-Ikaris!” you stammered as you frantically moved your hips. “Please!”

“Please what, my flower?” he teased. “You know I can’t do anything until you provide explicit instructions.”

You wailed in frustration. “You know what I mean, you cruel man! I-I need you to m-move! I want to feel everything! PLEASE!”

Throwing all inhibitions to the wind, Ikaris gave you precisely what you wanted by giving hard, powerful drives. The squelch of your folds from each thrust was downright sinful and caused you to cry out his name. The slapping of his hips against your thighs, coupled with his gruff grunts and your high-pitched mewls, made for the most erotic symphony.

You felt so embarrassed by your reactions, but there was no use in holding back your reactions. You put your arm over your eyes to maintain some semblance of dignity, but Ikaris pinned it down to the side of your head. You opened your eyes to see if your lover was as out of control as you.

You were shocked to see how nearly black his eyes were, with almost no evidence of his lapis-lazuli irises. His lips had a thin, wet sheen of film covering them, and his hair was wholly tousled and unkempt from his usual militant style – a result of you running your fingers through it and yanking it.

“Oh no, don’t you dare cover your face,” he rasped. “I’ve waited for this moment for seven thousand years. All those years of watching those men stare at you with lustful eyes – every soldier, king, even fucking Thor. And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it – what right did I have to do so? But tonight- tonight, I ensure that you will never want anyone else but me.”

You shook your head. “No…only you- I only want you, Ikaris. I swear!”

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he cooed. “You feel so perfect – gripping me so tight. Do you feel as good as I do, my flower? Can you feel how I was made for you? As you were made for me? Can you feel how greedy your cunt is for me – I fit so perfectly inside you.”

The euphoria between you two reached such a crescendo that your bodies were frantically rocking against each other at an erratic tempo. You reached forward to cling onto his shoulders as you brought him in a close embrace. The only thing that mattered to you was the man above you and the love overflowing between you. The only thing that mattered to Ikaris was the feeling of you under him and knowing this wasn’t a dream.

The rest of the world disappeared, and the noise from the festivities of the City of Lights became white noise. The only sounds you could register in your lust-hazy mind were Ikaris’ hoarse groans and hushed gasps. The only sounds Ikaris could hear while in his bliss-intoxicated state were your breathless whimpers and sharp cries.

The two of you looked less like the gods humanity regaled in myths and legends and more akin to wild beasts. The sight of your legs tightly wrapped around Ikaris’ waist and the vulgar rings of the slapping of skin from him pounding into you was sinful. The feel of your full and soft breasts rubbing against his hard pecs only heightened the pleasure.

The familiar coil in your stomach returned, and its intensity was reaching a point of almost unbearable pleasure. All you could do was continue to cling to your lover with your nails dragging down his back as he continued to slam into you. Ikaris cursed under his breath at the feeling of your nails scraping long red marks on the skin of his back. He felt your walls start to tighten to show that you were reaching your peak. He increased his tempo to a relentless pace as he felt your walls continue to grip him.

With his newfound vigor, you became all the more aware of how he dragged each and every inch of his cock in and out of you. Your cunt wept at the way his new pace made you stretch even wider to accommodate for all of him. His rough patch of curls around the base of his cock hitting your swollen clit made your mind go blank.

“Ikaris!” you wailed. “Slow – slow down! I think – I think I’m going to – oh, FUCK!”

“Let go, Sephia,” Ikaris grunted. “I want to feel your cunt gripping my cock. I want to feel your walls creaming around me as your womb begs for my cum to fill so much that it leaks.”

Refusing to part from you, he snaked his arm to the space between your legs to press your swollen clit. The pressure from his fingers pinching your nub broke the dam inside you as your juices sprayed and soaked Ikaris’ manhood and naval region. Your back arched, and your legs trembled while the rest of your body pathetically spasmed from the intensity of your release. Your vision went white, and your mind was filled with blissful static as drool dribbled out of your mouth, hanging open at the sheer shock from the release of pressure.

When you came around him, Ikaris gripped the sheets so hard that he heard a faint rip as he felt a mass of textiles clump in his hand. If the fluttering of your cunt was heavenly, then the feeling of your walls clenching so hard around him as you sprayed your essence around him was euphoria. Using both hands, he unhooked your legs around his waist and spread them wide apart until your feet dangled by his head. The new position allowed him to reach so deep in you that he felt the tip of his shaft hitting the entrance of your womb.

He chased the end of his release as you senselessly babbled – your mind was too far gone from your climax, and all you could do was take all of him until he was done himself. It was not long until he felt his body tense, and he thrust himself into you to the hilt and came with a thunderous shout that echoed with your loud cries. The shift of all his weight ramming into the warm and wet hole that greedily latched onto him brought you a new sensation so pleasurable that it rocked on the edge of pain. The spilling of his hot seed inside your womb made you further cling onto him as tears streamed down your cheeks – as if melding your bodies into one being.

Ikaris completely let go of all of his tensions as he lay on top of you – panting for air. Your heart was racing as you tried to catch your breath. For a few minutes, the two of you only wanted to bask in the feel of you together in the aftermath of your lovemaking.

Not wanting to crush you with his weight, Ikaris gently tried to pry himself off you. He thought it would be best to grab a wet rag to help clean you or at least give you some water, but you refused to let go.

“I like feeling you inside me,” you whispered, your voice was a bit hoarse from your screams and cries.

His voice sounded more gruff than usual as he chuckled. “You shouldn’t say such things unless you’re prepared for another round. And by the looks of it, I think you’ve had enough for one night – especially for your first time.”

Ikaris stroked your cheek as he smiled at the sight of you. Your hair was tousled, and your skin was flushed to a lovely hue. There was not a patch of your neck that was not completely littered with red splotches from his bites and kisses. Your eyes were wet from the tears that streamed down your cheeks, and there was a small trail of drool from your mouth.

You were the very image of erotic perfection – only to ever be seen by him.

“…Was it good?” he hesitantly asked. “How do you feel?”

“I feel…at peace,” you replied after a few moments of thinking. “I don’t really feel any different from before. I certainly wouldn’t object to doing it again. But I just feel…content- and happy. Does that make sense?”

You felt your love’s feather-soft lips press against your hairline. “Yes, it does. But are you sure you don’t want to clean yourself? I know your thighs will feel…sticky in the morning if we don’t wipe it off.”

You shook your head. “No, I just want you here with me.”

“At least let me get you a glass of water,” he reasoned. “Believe me when I say you’ll be grateful for it in the morning.”

“Fine,” you relented with a pout. “Hurry back.”

He lowly chuckled as he lowered himself to plant a soft kiss on your temple.

When Ikaris returned with your water, he found you bundled under a cocoon of the bed’s sheets and covers. Shaking his head in amusement, he placed the glass on the nightstand on your side of the mattress. He carefully lifted the covers, not to wake you from your well-deserved slumber, and crawled under them before gently shifting your body in his arms.

As Ikaris closed his eyes and felt the beckoning lull of slumber reach him, he swore he could hear the tune of a trumpet blowing as a rich timber voice sang a familiar song that held a special place in his heart.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras Qu'il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose

With a peaceful smile on his face, Ikaris dreamt of a dear memory. It happened in Paris only over seventy years ago. He recalls the day he first heard the phrase ‘rose-colored glasses’ as if it were only yesterday. Unbeknownst to him, you were playing the same memory in your sleep.

Paris in February 1948 was a less-than-ideal time. The weather was dismal, and the air was filled with smog and cigarette smoke. The snow surrounding him more resembled ash blown from a forest fire than frozen ice particles falling from the heavens. People were still hurting from the losses they suffered in the war. The industry was ruined, food was severely rationed, and housing was in short supply. The once luminescent City of Lights and her people were living in misery.

But Ikaris’ longing to see you was greater than his misery.

You had been visiting the graves of soldiers and victims across France every February since the signing of the Paris Peace Treaties in 1947. While there were thousands of unmarked graves, you knew the names of each fallen soldier and nameless body. The Earth whispered each person's tale as their blood spilled to the ground. You would breathe their name to a single red poppy before laying the bloom on the ground. It was too little while also being too late, but you wanted to show your thanks.

Your heart ached at the thought of anyone crossing over without someone remembering them. You walked these hallowed grounds because these brave men and women had fought for that privilege. You walked to honor and thank them.

It was what Kaety and Phastos would have wanted. It was what James would have wanted.

Feeling a sudden shift in the air, you did not need to look to know who had joined you.

“Hello, Ikaris,” you greeted your friend while still kneeling on the ground. “What brings you here?”

“I just wanted to see you,” he replied. “Is that not what friends do?”

You bitterly laughed under your breath. You finally stood from the ground to face your old “friend.” It hurt to see how beautiful he remained despite how he impassively stared at you – as if you meant nothing to him.

“Are we still friends?” you asked. “After everything?”

If your questions hurt him, Ikaris had not let it be shown. But he at least had the decency to soften his tone and look down at his feet, slightly admonished.

“I suppose I deserve that,” he answered. He looked up to face you once more. “Sephia, I…I missed you.”

A new wave of tears threatened to spill as you scoffed at his words.

“Cruel man,” you inwardly wept. “Cruel, cruel man.”

“Forgive me for my reaction,” you scornfully replied. “But I find that a bit hard to believe, considering how we left things between us last time.”

The last time you had seen Ikaris was over fifty years ago when he visited you in the small open field outside Kaety and Druig’s commune. It was your usual meeting place for the past two centuries. It was close enough to the village that Kaety still felt your presence but far enough to ensure your meeting remained private.

The first time he came, you were so happy to see Ikaris. You were terrified at the idea of him forever hating you for joining Kaety and Druig in seclusion. He had criticized you for going against Arishmen’s orders. He told you it mattered little of what you and Kaety did – humanity was doomed to fail.

The last you heard from Kingo was that Ikaris had disappeared from Earth. No one had seen him since Ajak sent all of you away – not even Sersi or Sprite.

His reaching out to you over everyone else meant so much to you. Perhaps it was selfish, but it made you happy to know your talks and meetings with Ikaris were done without anyone’s knowledge. Not even Kaety knew of his presence. You two would talk about the world that was changing around them while reminiscing about the world that had passed.

With each talk, you felt your bond with your friend strengthen. With each meeting, your attachment to Ikaris became more profound as you often craved to see him just hours after he left. Your feelings grew to the point where you could no longer contain them. It felt like you had laid your entire heart on the line.

“Would you stay here?” you softly asked. “Would you stay here with me?”

And then he left, leaving you in the field by yourself.

“Did you hate the idea–” you hastily inhaled to stop your voice from breaking “– of staying here so much? Could you really have not found any joy in what I do here for those people?”

Ikaris reached out to hold you in his arms.

“No,” he whispered in your hair. “No, Flower, that’s not it. I swear… I swear that’s not it.”

He should not have come. If he were a better man, he would have let you hate him until you could forget him. But he knew you were alone, and his selfishness won out in the end.

“Then why?” you cried. His shirt muffled your words, but your voice broke his heart. “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you come back? Every year, I waited in that field! Because I thought our friendship meant something to you! But you never came!”

“Sephia,” he explained, “I could have never been who you needed me to be for those villagers. I have nothing to offer them but my combat skills.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him. “Everything you told me that night – you were right. It doesn’t matter what any of us do. Humans will destroy everything themselves. Just look where we are now.”

You and he looked at the thousands of white crosses that stood from the ground. You still had nightmares about the bodies surrounding you as hundreds of soldiers entered your tents – only to pass away from their fatal injuries. So many graves without names were men and women you treated before you had to bury them.

Kaety still woke up every night screaming at the horrors and abuse of the victims of Unit 731. What remained of the records of Ishii Shiro and his use of anthrax and the plague as biological warfare would haunt her for the rest of her life. Her thrashing had almost gotten to the point where she ordered Druig to sedate her if she ever accidentally hurt herself or him.

Phastos was practically left in a continuous catatonic state after leaving the site of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. But during the times he came back, he could only weep out apologies to the millions of victims for his interference with humanity’s technology from the beginning.

“Was everything we thought we were building for nothing?” you asked. “Was this planet and its people doomed from the start?”

Ikaris only stood silently. He wondered if he was more cruel not to tell you the truth of Arishem’s grand plan after Ajak told him so long ago. But he wanted to see your smile for however long he had left. You were so proud of your creations, and rightfully so. Not knowing what else to do, he figured to let his actions speak more than his words.

“Can I show you something?”

He took you in his arms when you nodded. He lifted the two of you to a dark alley in Paris next to the Seine. The lights surrounding them with the people walking along the river bank made the night cold winter night less cold and desolate than the hopelessness you felt in your heart.

It was a pretty sight, but the view couldn’t have been the only reason why Ikaris brought you here.

“Look around you.” He spread his arms to emphasize his point. “What do you see?”

“…Litter and pollution?”

“Besides that.”

You tried to look harder. “Ummmm…people?”

“Exactly, people who are alive. A florist who sells flowers in the spring to young lovers because she wants to share the fruits of your labor with the world. Families who tour the Gardens of Versailles because they want to bask in the splendor.”

You understood Ikaris’ point. You were the one who tried to explain it all to him for so long, but everything seemed so hopeless now.

“Sephia,” he spoke your name to break you from your thoughts. “What you brought into this world was not for nothing. It never was. You are why people can find beauty and joy in the simplest pleasures.”

You wanted to say something – anything. But words failed to come to you. They always had during the most important events. Suddenly, you heard the melody of one of France’s favorite songs creep into your ear. You felt your Ikaris softly grasp your hand as he gently led the two of you to the direction of the melody.

It was a mixed jazz band playing in the middle of a packed Place Vendôme. They were playing La Vie En Rose.

The symphony of clarinets and flutes made for a beautiful melody. The saxophone altos, French horn, and trombone gave the song a homophonic texture. But the real star of the ensemble was the trumpet. It added a sense of joy and lightheartedness that so deeply contrasted the past decade.

“A favorite demon of yours told me this song was all the rage in France a few ago,” he quipped. “Care to show me why?”

You rolled your eyes. “You really need to stop calling Kaety that. She’ll bite your head off for being unable to think of a new nickname after seven thousand years.”

Ikaris took a few steps forward before turning to you and held out his hand. You only stared at it before realizing the meaning of his gesture. You stared at his face with wide eyes and a gaped mouth to represent your shock.

“You,” you choked out, “want to dance? In the middle of the square?”

Ikaris only shrugged. “Why not?”

“But…but, there’s just – there’s so many people around!” you stammered.

“That’s never stopped you before in Reykjanesskagi.”

“That was during the Maiden’s Day festival!”

“You know, you’re starting to hurt my feelings with how long you’ve kept my arm like this.”

You huffed out a breath in annoyance before you reluctantly reciprocated the gesture. Ikaris must have known that you wouldn’t refuse a dance, especially a dance to one of your favorite songs. You hated bringing attention to yourself, but you loved to dance. You didn’t know what it was – but you could always lose yourself in the notes as your body moved in tandem with the tune. Whenever there was a festival or celebration in any city where the Eternals were stationed, you and Kaety would disguise yourselves as peasants or low-born nobility to fade into the background. So often, you would lose yourself in joy that you would accidentally make flowers bloom around you, even in the harshest winters.

Des yeux qui font baisser les miens Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche Voilà le portrait sans retouches De l'homme auquel j'appartiens

Ikaris pulled you close to his chest. One hand was placed on the small of your back while one of your hands clutched on his shoulder. But the other was firmly clasped in his other hand. Before you began, you saw a few other pairs sway to the band. It eased your nerves to know that you and he were the only pair dancing in the historical square.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras Qu'il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça m'fait quelque chose

Everyone around you seemed to be dancing in slow, expressive, rhythmic steps, resembling an American-style bolero. Given the time and place, it was only natural that Ikaris took the lead. You were prepared to offer instructions, but he surprised you again by showing how comfortable he was in the role and steps.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you remarked.

Ikaris looked slightly embarrassed as his cheeks reddened. “Sersi taught me. She basically threatened to castrate me if I refused to dance at a speakeasy we frequented in New York in the 20s.”

“Sersi?” you snorted out as he spun and dipped you. “Sersi threatened you? Our Sersi? Lying is a very unbecoming quality, Ikaris. I didn’t think you’d be one to develop it.”

“Oh, if only I could make up such a tale,” replied Ikaris as he grabbed your waist before lifting you without struggle. “Sersi’s can be downright terrifying if she wants to be. Ask Kingo – he’s the only other person who’s seen her like that.”

You couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling out of your throat. And as the band continued to play, you and Ikaris swayed, dipped, and spun for hours. Over three hours had passed by the time the band was finished for the night. When you stopped, all you could do was stare into your friend’s eyes in a rose-hued haze before a thunderous round of applause broke you out of your dreamlike state and into reality. A sizable crowd had surrounded the two of you – hoots, hollers, and whistles accompanied the applause. Your impromptu performance enchanted men, women, children, and even pets.

“Bisou!” called out from a random face in the crowd. It wasn’t long before the call became a chant.

“Bi-sou! Bi-sou! Bi-sou! Bi-sou!”

Feeling suddenly emboldened, you cupped your Ikaris’ face and kissed his cheek softly. The following whistles and cheers would have made you wish to disappear – had it not been for the sweet peck Ikaris placed between the furrow of your brow.

All of a sudden- without even knowing it at the time- the world seemed brighter, and the air started to smell like roses.

Ikaris woke up to the feeling of gentle poking on his cheek. Hearing the swallows sing and feeling the warm sunlight on his skin, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at peace. He turned his body in your direction before opening his eyes. He was immediately blessed with your bright eyes and sweet smile. Raking his eyes down your body, it looked like you wore his dress shirt from last night.

He adored the way it draped over your curves – especially with how it showed off your legs.

“Are you ready for your Valentine’s Day present?” you asked with poorly contained excitement. Judging by how your smile went ear-to-ear, you practically bounced out of your skin.

Ikaris furrowed his brows in puzzlement. “Was last night not my present?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why would sex be your present? I thought I made it pretty clear that I hadn’t expected the night to turn in that direction.”

“Well then,” he chucked in amusement over your flushed cheeks and pout, “what is my present?”

Your eyes shone in delight as you lightly kicked your feet against the mattress. “You’ll have to get out of bed for that! Come on!”

You dashed into the next room while Ikaris wrapped the sheets around him before locating his briefs and grabbing a pair of gray sweatpants in his luggage. Once putting them on, he stretched out his back and arms from behind the balcony window before opening it and letting in some air to freshen the room.

When he crossed to the piano room, he was mildly surprised when he saw you seated at the pianoforte. You pressed the keys to carefully listen if the instrument needed any additional tuning. Satisfied that the pitch wasn’t flat, you turned to Ikaris, who was leaning under the doorway.

“Are you ready?” you asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied.

You positioned your fingers over the right keys while straightening your posture. Clearing your throat, you began to play at Adagio. Your body swayed to the melody as if you had become one with the instrument. Every key you lovingly caressed let out a note sounding so beautifully as if the music came alive just for you. You closed your eyes before you began singing.

Des yeux qui font baisser les miens Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche Voilà le portrait sans retouches De l'homme auquel j'appartiens

Quand il me prend dans ses bras Qu'il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose

Ikaris’ eyes widened. Were you playing…had you –

But his thoughts were interrupted as your rich singing broke through his stupor. Your sweet voice was soaked in honey and laced with the roses from the song.

Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça m'fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon cœur Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause

For a moment, Ikaris truly hated that his French wasn’t as proficient as yours. Had it been, he would have been able to appreciate your singing that rivaled the voice of angels properly. Was it possible for one to sound as rich and effortlessly fluid as sweet syrup?

C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie

Et dès que je l'aperçois Alors je sens dans moi Mon cœur qui bat

Your fingers lightly danced along the keys to give your voice a brief intermission. And for a few moments, it felt like Ikaris’ soul had returned to his body. And although he expected you to stop, you began to sing the English translation.

Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose

When you kiss me, heaven sighs

And though I close my eyes

I see la vie en rose

Whereas the original French version required a slower and softer pace to grasp the ballad's meaning and beauty, the English version required a slightly quicker tempo. It brought a more joyful mood and tone compared to the lovely but melancholic French version.

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart

A world where roses bloom

And when you speak, angels sing from above

Everyday words seem to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La vie en rose

When you finished, Ikaris was once more completely and utterly entranced. You turned to face him with hopeful eyes. You long memorized this song since that night in Paris over seventy years ago. When you began to learn how to play the piano, you did it because you never wanted to forget the ballad’s meaning and how it touched your heart from that night on.

“You once asked me why this song was so popular,” you began to explain. “Édith Piaf wrote ‘La Vie en Rose’ in 1945 and released it as a single in 1947. The song’s popularity quickly reached global success as jazz artists began to sing its covers. Louis Armstrong played it on March 2, 1948 – at the same Jazz Festival you took me in Salle Pleyel.”

You stood up as you tenderly traced a single black key that released a soft C sharp when you pressed it.

“As you remember, all of Europe was in chaos and misery after the war. Everyone lost someone fighting. So many men and women who returned became shells of themselves. People were starving and homeless from the constant airstrikes. But Édith wrote this song to remind Paris to never lose sight of the happy times and good things in life. You shouldn’t forget the bad times, but you also shouldn’t forget to look at life without seeing the beauty of everything around you.”

You walked towards Ikaris before standing before him and wrapping your arms around him. You laid your cheek against his chest and smiled at his beating heart's steady and strong rhythm.

“That night- when we danced at the Place Verdôme- the song they played was stuck in my head for months. Whenever I felt sad or disheartened, I would put on the record I bought to listen to it. I know you have your doubts about humanity. You always had them, as had I. We were never the ones who loved humankind, especially after the atrocities they had committed. I hated what they did to the Earth, how much they polluted it, but – Oh, Ikaris. I made you cry again.”

Touching his cheek, Ikaris realized that he was indeed crying. That’s twice in less than twelve hours, a new record. Just what in Arishem’s name had you done to him?

He shook his head. “Never mind my tears. Continue.”

“Listening to that song, I finally realized why so many of our family kept faith in humankind. Kaety and Druig have their twins and remain in their village. Phastos and Ben have Jack. Sersi has loved and lost more than any of us, first with Jane, but now she’s with Dane. Kingo lives among them effortlessly and adores them. Even Makkari remains joyful because she keeps looking at life and seeing its beauty.”

You paused for a moment before standing only tip-toes to press a kiss on his nose.

“Ikaris, you don’t care much for humans. But that night, you reminded me why I did what I did in the war. You reminded me that there will always be people who will take comfort in the most simple pleasures- a rose’s bloom, the crisp bite of an apple, or even the sound of a child’s heartbeat. So, for just a few minutes, I wanted to give something to you the way you have for me.”

Words failed to convey the love Ikaris felt for you. All he could do was tightly hold you in his arms and never let go. For the first time since he came back, he felt it was alright to love you. That he wouldn’t pollute or ruin you the way he had done with everything else in his life so many times. Ikaris knew that it was his destiny to love you. But you- you chose him. You chose to love him. And that fact alone was enough to make him die without regrets.

“I hope children have your voice,” he murmured into your hair before facing you with wet eyes. “And I hope that they have your heart.”

He cupped your cheek, and you kissed his palm softly. “Only if they have your eyes and your art skills.”

Ikaris must have heard you sing your rendition of ‘La Vie en Rose’ a million times. You sang and taught it all your children— Laurie, Aggie, and Ari – on the piano or tucking to bed. But that first time he heard you sing it- that morning when the sun pooled into the room as pink roses and red asters suddenly bloomed- that will always be his favorite.

Thank you if you if finished the story! Let me know if you enjoyed it, and make sure to like, comment, and reblog!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @lexyysworld, @hypnoticmistake, @jolixtreesunn, @tess-love, @she-wintersoldat, @vikingqueen28, @lilacliquors, @beananacake, @tesha-i-guess, @littledoveofchaos, @atjsgf, @littlewitchoftheweast, @fireinmoonshot

Let me know if the comments if you want to be included in future Eternals posts!

#marvel eternals #ikaris smut #richard madden smut #eternals x reader #marvel x reader #ikaris x reader #druig imagine #ikaris imagine #ikaris x female reader #ikaris x eternal!reader #ikaris x oc #eternals fic #richard madden x reader #eternals au #eternals smut #demisexual!reader #demisexual eternal #lgbtqiia+

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softquietsteadylove · 2 months

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there can't be enough thenamesh reunion fics!

may i ask for more?

Gilgamesh yanked the Warrior back by the shoulder. She tried to regain her balance but he slammed his fist against her head, creating a gust strong enough to rattle the ship windows. She went down softly.

"Oi!" The Mind Reader was quick to respond to his fallen comrade. They all had a sense of togetherness that Gilgamesh admitted he found absent within his own team (himself, the Soaring Eternal and their Prime).

Ikaris took advantage of the team's sense of protectiveness. He grasped the Speedster's armour collar with his hand, using her as a shield against the puppeteer. He fired his eyes into the dark haired one's armour, sending him through the wall. Then, the Speedster was nothing but a burden.

Gilgamesh winced as she was thrown headfirst to the ground. Ikaris wasn't stronger than him - he knew that for a fact - but he certainly acted more brutally.

"Come on," he muttered in his accent, dragging the body of the Speedster behind him as he floated over to retrieve the Mind Reader as well.

Gilgamesh stared down at the Warrior Eternal. Her body was also limp, but he could feel the Cosmic Energy thrumming within her veins. He could practically feel the rhythm of her heart, if he let himself imagine it. He didn't know what made them so different, according to Arishem.

"You want a hand with 'er or what?" Ikaris snarled at him, piling both of his catches under his arms to bring back to Ajak at the helm of the ship. He was probably just going to sling her over his shoulder, or worse, drag her.

"Go ahead," Gilgamesh grumbled, kneeling down to her. She was his defeat, and his responsibility. Ikaris floated ahead, even banging the Mind Reader's head against the door frame in his lack of care.

Her face looked so peaceful.

Gilgamesh caught himself trying to move her hair away from her face before sighing. He slipped one hand under her arm and shoulders, and the other under her knees. She folded into his grasp so easily he wasn't sure if she weighed anything at all.

"Gil."

He stared down at her, ready for another fight if she was waking again. But as he drew his arms in, all she did was relax against him--him, the enemy. He couldn't imagine why.

But her head rolled to the side, and her tiara even met the cold, hard shell of his chest plate. And yet she had a little smile on her face, as if there were no place she would rather be. He adjusted her a little before making the trip to the head of the ship as well. He did have the courtesy not to smack her head against the door, at least.

She kept calling him Gil.

No one called him that. He didn't even think of himself like that. His name was Gilgamesh, and he was the Strongest Eternal, sent by Arishem to retrieve rogue Eternals who had been tainted by the Deviants of Earth. He had never met this woman before.

But his heart ached in his chest as he carried her.

He felt conflicted fighting her. He had felt awful knocking her out. And he had felt so protective at the thought of Ikaris laying a single hand on her.

"There he is."

Gilgamesh walked in with the Warrior Eternal in his arms. He held her gently, just briefly looking at the other two piled on the floor like litter.

"Well done," Ajak said, observing the difference in technique between him and Ikaris. She waved her glowing hands.

Gilgamesh stepped back slightly as the woman in his arms floated up out of his embrace and upright. The lines of her energy signature formed around her, creating a golden cage in a sense around her.

"These will hold them until we arrive at the World Forge," Ajak clarified as the three bodies floated to their places around the statue of Arishem.

Ikaris joined Ajak again at the front window, discussing their strategy. Those two seemed close but also at odds, in a weird way. Gilgamesh turned away from them, back to the blonde.

She was beautiful.

He wasn't a traitor just for thinking so. He walked closer, looking up at her floating just off the ground. The signature of her Cosmic Energy was weaker, but he could swear he still felt it calling out to him. It was like they were cut from the same cloth.

He reached up, tucking some hair behind her ear and out of his way. It felt familiar, in a terrifying way. Her eyes didn't even flutter. Not that he wanted her to wake up.

Gilgamesh looked back at his teammates, but they were whispering among themselves. They weren't any more concerned with him than he was about them. And that was just fine. They were a team, not some cobbled together family unit.

He looked up at her again. Thena. That name had been pulsing in his head since he saw her. He wasn't sure how; she was the Warrior Eternal, deadly and traitorous. That was all he knew about her. Except her name. And that she had a sweet sounding laugh. It echoed through memories he didn't have.

He hadn't even realised he was reaching up until his fingertips met her cheek. He didn't know what he was doing. He had no explanation for it to himself, much less to his team, let alone the woman herself. Her skin was soft.

It seemed impossible, but he could have sworn to all the stars in the sky that she leaned into his touch, however much she could. He didn't press his palm to her skin. That felt...wrong--like he had no right. Just looking at her felt like a betrayal of some kind. "Thena."

The Warrior's sandy coloured eyelashes fluttered. Maybe she was stronger than Ajak had assumed. She couldn't open her eyes, but he knew they were green (somehow). "Gil."

That name again. It made his whole body burn, like his chest was on fire. He stood back from the Warrior calling for him--someone. He didn't know who she was calling out to, but it wasn't really him.

"Gilgamesh."

He turned towards his Prime, and his fellow Eternal at the window. It seemed so cold over there. He nodded, walking over silently. Only when he was further away did he realise he had been holding the Warrior Eternal's hand.

"Are you prepared to hand them over?" Ajak asked.

He frowned, "why wouldn't I be?"

Ajak was silent, but Ikaris freely scoffed at him, "y'seem awfully soft on the traitor. There's no need for the gentleman routine with faulty scum."

Gilgamesh clenched his fists at his side, but he forced himself to remember his place. "I'm curious, but I'm not confused about the mission."

"Good," Ajak concluded, ending the conversation for both of them.

Ikaris let out one last laugh at him before floating off again. Did he have to fly everywhere just for the sake of it? He could walk just fine.

Gilgamesh tried not to seem like he was watching keenly as Ikaris walked by the prisoners again. Ikaris also looked up at the Warrior Eternal, and Gilgamesh tried not to yell at his teammate to keep his distance from her.

But Ikaris kept moving, and Gilgamesh wasn't eager to admit that his chest loosened. His eyes left the figure of Thena floating limply. He blinked, finding Ajak staring at him. "What?"

She looked back at the Warrior Eternal and then back to him. "You know her."

He shook his head. "We were briefed on all of them. She was a better fighter than I could have imagined. I think that deserves some respect."

Yes, he had respect for his fellow Fighter. She seemed very much his equal, all agility where he was sturdiness. He wanted her to be treated with respect and honour, just like any good warrior.

He wanted her to be handled so delicately a flower would weep with envy.

"I agree," Ajak sufficed to say. She gave him one last look before leaning closer, "keep your mission in mind, Gilgamesh. Whatever the traitors try to whisper in your ear...remember their deception."

"I will," he assured his team leader before she too departed. He stayed at the window, looking into the vast nothingness where eventually the World Forge would come into view. He looked over his shoulder.

It wouldn't be long until he could ask her why she called him Gil.

#Thenamesh AU #thank you so much love!!!#I hope you don't mind #this is a little bit different from some other reunion fics #but I do think this is what it might be like #if we ever get Eternals content ever again please god please anyone I beg of you #Gilgamesh has no idea why he sees this woman #the enemy #and he loves her #he can feel it in his chest every time he throws a punch #he imagines Ikaris grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder and it makes him want to scream #he says don't fucking touch her!#I mean I'll carry her you go ahead #Gil carries her so gently #when Ajak lets them out of their bindings #Gil catches her before she can hit the floor #Ikaris is like what the fuck is up with this guy #grabs Druig and Makkari again #also I'm so sorry but he would not be gentle with them #Gilgamesh is like I'll carry her #and Sersi will see this and be like Gil #that's our way out of this mess #if we can talk some sense into any of them it's him #Kingo: not your literal ex-husband?#Sersi: no

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beananacake · 2 years

Text

The Accidental Princess (Part 12)

Prince Kit x Reader

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

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

Word Count: 13.6k words

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

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

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The storm had taken a turn for the worst.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kit. The prince. Your former husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ambitious girl,” it snarled.

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

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

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

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

Your eyes flew open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guards!”

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

“Y/N, let me help—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He killed the queen,” you told her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Princess Chelina will—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

Kit was here.

Kit was alive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you?” he countered, voice quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, knowing you would not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I was too late—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where were you going?” he asked quietly.

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

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

“The Grand Duke.” You whispered shakily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My love,

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

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

All my love forever,

Kit

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They are not to wed,” she replied.

You frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

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

“Rumors?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You left your conversation at that.

Kit arrived by dinnertime.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What truth?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was not your fault, Your Royal—”

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

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

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

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

“I truly am sorry, Miss—”

“Y/N, please,” you offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you love him—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She took another sip of her tea.

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

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

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

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

“What for?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I shall look forward to them.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Does Louis know?”

He paused. “No, I do not think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

“I know.”

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kit…”

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

“But still—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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queen-of-the-avengers · 5 months

Text

CATFA: Part Three

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon violence, language, and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

New York is notorious for having parties on every corner, gatherings of hundreds of people, and bringing communities together. Manhattan is an island of many ports, and most of them are having fairs and events people can attend. After dressing like you belong in the 1930s, you attend one of the fairs to get to know people and make yourself known.

Crowds of people line up for the rides as well as the games, and you maneuver through them to get to the far end of the pier. You look up and lock eyes with a complete stranger, but there is something familiar about him. You haven't seen that face in years, the face you left behind.

"Ikaris?" you call out even though he can't hear you.

You push through the crowd to get to the stranger, and when you see him, he's with a younger blonde man that's much shorter. They're both enjoying some games, and you realize that it's not the person you thought. You're about to leave when the man notices you staring.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm sorry," you chuckle. "You remind me of someone I knew. I apologize for staring."

"Don't apologize. You can stare all you want," he flirts. "Do you have a name, doll?"

"Y/N."

"James, but you can call me Bucky." He holds his hand out for you to shake, and when you grab it, he brings your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. You smile shyly and bite your lower lip. He looks a little young, maybe about eighteen if you had to guess. "This is my friend, Steve."

"It's nice to meet you both. I'll let you both get back to losing this game," you tease.

"Oh, and you think you can do so much better?"

"I know so."

"Alright. Show me how it's done."

He pays for another round and lets you play the game. He thinks you're going to pretend to be bad so he can save the day, but he's wrong. You end up winning it and winning the stuffed whale that's about as big as your head.

"Here, you can have him. It's something to remember me by," you grin and hand Bucky the animal.

"Oh, doll, I'm going to have a hard time forgetting you. I think I need a rematch. This fair is open tomorrow. What do you say? Do I have a chance to redeem myself?"

"You might."

And a chance he got. Then another chance. And another one. And you kept giving him chances even after he's beaten you plenty of times. Even after the fair closed its doors to remodel some of the rides, you and Bucky couldn't stay away from each other. He snuck out of his parent's house to be with you, and you'd walk all around town trying to avoid the officers who patrolled the area.

"Are your parents okay with you being out this late?" Bucky asks you when you two stopped at the local playground.

"My parents died a long time ago. I'm a little older than you might think."

"An older woman, huh? I don't mind," he chuckles.

"If my parents were here, I'd tell them about you. I think they'd like you."

You two walk to the swing set and you take a seat on one of the swings, but Bucky stands next to you as you slowly sway back and forth.

"Do you like me?"

"Yeah."

Bucky walks in front of you and stands between your legs. He walks you backward until you can't go any further, and he slides his hands slowly up your body until he reaches your face. He tucks your hair behind your ear, giving you goosebumps. He waits for you to reject him, and when you don't, he leans into you.

Kissing him feels like magic. Kissing him feels like standing on top of a cliff and letting the warm summer sun heat your skin. Kissing him feels like opening presents as a kid. Kissing him makes you feel like you can finally face up to Markus without fear. Kissing him gives you a feeling you've never felt before, not even with Ikaris.

Everything falls into place when you're with him. This is your moment. This is the moment you fall in love with James Buchanan Barnes. If you two couldn't stay away from each other before this moment, then you truly couldn't be apart well after it. Even when he moved out of his parent's house and started going to the local college with Steve, he made sure to make time for you in his busy schedule.

Spending one year with him has been more fulfilling than spending nine hundred years with Ikaris.

If you see yourself spending years with Bucky, then you need to tell him the truth about you. Ikaris was already an alien when you met him, so he didn't have a hard time believing you weren't human. Bucky might react differently which is why you waited a full year to come clean. He's taking you out to dinner for your first anniversary, and it's overlooking the Big Apple.

"Bucky, how much did this cost you?"

"Nothing is expensive when it comes to you."

There is no one else on the balcony, giving you the perfect opportunity to come clean.

"Listen, Bucky, there's something I have to tell you and I'm not sure how you're going to take it."

"You're not part of the cartel, are you?" he chuckles.

"No. I'm older than you think I am--"

"Yeah, I know. I don't mind dating an older woman. I'd say you're twenty-five."

"I'm a little older than that. Bucky, I'm nine hundred years old," you rip the bandaid off. "I'm from a planet called Xenia, and I came here in the year 1000. I left my planet to escape the man who abused me and experimented on me."

"Okay, now I'm starting to think you're not joking."

"I just want you to know how much I love you."

You lift your hand and transform it from your human form into an animal's paw. From there, you turn it into a tentacle before returning it to normal. You lift your other hand and create a small fireball out of thin air. The fire solidifies and turns into water before quickly evaporating. You can't seem to look at Bucky in fear he will kick you out of his life.

"If I see a future with you, which I do, I have to tell you who I truly am. I'm not human. I'm telling you this because I love you so much. My feelings for you are true and real, and this entire year has been the best in my entire life. You make me feel safe, but I understand if you never want to see me again. I just hope you understand I never meant to hurt you."

Bucky gets out of his chair, and you think this is it. He's going to leave and never return. Instead, he walks over to you and kneels so that you don't have to look up to see him. He reaches up and wipes the tears that have fallen.

"Y/N, I love you. It's going to take a long time to wrap my head around this, but I don't care if you're not human. I didn't get to know you this past year just to walk out on you now."

"You don't care that I'm nine hundred years old?"

"You could be ten thousand, and I'd still want to get to know you. You're my soulmate, doll." He stands to his full height, bringing you up with him. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him passionately. There isn't a more perfect person for you than Bucky. "You gotta tell me more about this, though."

You two break away and take your seats when you begin the story of how you came to be.

Markus Hottle was known throughout Xenia as a benevolent CEO of Interdimensional Republic. They specialized in privacy, safety, and communications throughout Xenia. They had a sister company that would expand IR throughout its solar system and into the vast space outside of it.

Markus had everyone wrapped around his finger, which gave him power like no other. Instead of taking that power and doing good things with it, he let it get to his abnormally large head. It fed his ego, and he got so hungry that he didn't only want to dominate Xenia but the other planets around it.

He came up with a serum created by his lab technicians that would give its user special abilities. This was experimental work that needed a test subject, so what better person to do it than his assistant? It's what gave you your shapeshifting abilities. Markus saw how powerful you could get, but that didn't satisfy him enough.

He wanted more.

Word got around that an Infinity Stone was lurking around Xenia. If Markus could get ahold of it, then he could add that power to his serum. Something of that magnitude would ensure no one could go up against him. He wanted to create an army that could be loyal to him as he tried to rule the neighboring planets of Xenia.

He got ahold of the famous Tesseract which held one of the six Infinity Stones. He tampered with the power o make a better weapon, giving you your second set of powers. With shapeshifting and controlling the elements, he knew he created the perfect serum to give to his army. If this serum got out, then the universe would be doomed.

You couldn't let it leave the lab it was created in.

One thing led to another and you stole the only serum before Markus had a chance to replicate it. The Tesseract was lost after the first serum was made, but he stored some power away just in case this were to happen.

You stole that, too.

You used the serum on yourself and used the last remaining bit of Tesseract power to escape. Your body absorbed it all, giving you the final power of creating portals to different parts of the universe. Markus was pissed you were gone with his creation, but you never looked back. You kept running until you reached Earth, and here you've stayed in peace for the last nine hundred years.

You're not even sure if Markus is still alive at this point, but you're hoping to never find out.

If Bucky loved you before, then he's utterly in love with you now. Telling him your life story made you two grow closer to each other. If you thought the first year with Bucky was an adventure, try the next five years. He never once judged you for what you've done or who you are, and you're grateful for having him in your life.

Steve doesn't know about what you are, but you're okay with leaving that part of you a secret for right now. He has enough to worry about besides you. He and Bucky have been taking a bunch of art classes together as a way to stay close to each other, but there is something bigger that they both want to do.

It's 1941 and the United States announced its role in World War II just after Pearl Harbor was bombed. Steve wanted to enlist because that's who he is but Bucky got drafted. Bucky was forced to go so you decided to enlist as well to support him physically and figuratively.

Women in the army weren't a common thing, but they were allowed to enlist for other jobs like nurses or things of that nature. None were allowed combat roles, but you were going to prove to them that you deserve to fight alongside the men who get to lay their lives down. Your powers would be more useful in the field than in some medical office, anyway.

So, when you, Bucky, and Steve went to enlist, you and Bucky got accepted pretty easily. It's Steve who they denied because of his short stature and small frame. He's much smaller than other men his age, and he has asthma which isn't allowed.

That didn't stop Steve from trying, but every time he tries to enlist, they would always deny him because of the same reasons as the previous one.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky got put into the same boot camp to train. Even if you weren't going into combat, you still needed to know the basic training to survive if something were to happen. Something got mixed up that caused you to go to the only boot camp with all men. The other women were sent somewhere else, but they didn't have any room to move you after the fact.

It became pretty clear you were going to be the center of attention, but you only had eyes for Bucky.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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welldonebeca · 1 year

Text

Apex Predator (IV)

Pairing: Thena x Ikaris WC: 2.1k words Warnings: Smut. Power play. Praising kink. Lots of teasing. “Thena be good”, but make it sexual. Virginity loss.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

Ikaris watched as Thena weaved through her tapestry, long fingers moving with such ability he couldn’t even understand how she did it.

It was her little hobby, sewing with such an ability it hypnotised him. He sometimes forgot she had hobbies outside of fighting, since that seemed to be the only thing on her mind whenever they were around.

Even when Ajak let them have moments of calm, she would be focused on the next deviants to emerge.

So seeing Thena and her long fingers moving, her bright eyes so focused she was barely blinking, never ceased to enchant him.

“It’s beautiful,” Ikaris finally spoke, making his presence known.

It was them in the legends, coming down to help the humans.

She didn’t stop, as if she knew he was there all along.

“I know."

He chuckled, wordless.

Of course she did. Thena knew everything.

He sat by her side, and her fingers didn’t even stop.

“How are you, Thena?” he asked, sweetly.

She wasn’t impressed at all.

Ikaris had his own dynamic with his Omegas. With Sersi, he could simply kiss her without many words, a few looks with Ajak would open her up and Makkari, his sneaky little Omega, was keen to playing games with him. But they had their dynamic.

But Thea… she was immune to his charms.

She gave very little attention to the changes on their family, focusing mainly on the deviants with Gilgamesh. Ikaris wondered if the two were intimate, but if maybe very secretive about it.

Whenever he tried to be around her, her answers were a little dry, and her attention was never fully on him. Nothing like what she was with Gilgamesh.

“Thena...” he started, but she just turned to look at him.

“Say what you want, Ikaris” she commanded, as if bored of his long game of conversation.

He swallowed down.

“Can’t I want to chat?” he tried to be smooth.

“You never only want to chat,” she remarked.

He scoffed.

“Because you always cut me off.”

She moved back to her tapestry.

“You annoy me when you talk,”

Ikaris would’ve taken offence, but he could see the slight smirk on her lips.

She was playing him. Him! The Alpha!

Ikaris reached and grabbed her hand, holding it, and she looked at his face.

“You’re done,” he commanded her.

Thena stared at him for a single second before throwing him across the room and against a wall.

Ikaris grunted, as she stood over him as he regained himself.

"You are going to have to try harder than that to be an alpha, Ikaris," she taunted him, blond hair moving as she tilted her head.

He flushed, embarrassed for a moment.

“I’m no Makkari, you can’t just corner me into mating with you.”

He stood in his full frame.

Fine, if she wanted a challenge, then she would have one.

“Is that what you want?” he circled her. “For me to fight you into submission?”

She walked away from him, careless, moving oh so lightly into the room where Arishem’s statue stood.

“Into submission?” she repeated, looking over her shoulder. “No.”

Ikaris followed her, and stopped at seeing her in full armour, leaning against a wall.

“I just want to have fun,” she moved away, dragging her body, exposing her neck on her way to him.

Ikaris clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Thena…” he sighed. “Why not be a good girl and just play nice?”

Her spear appeared through her fingers, and he stood still as she walked in his direction.

“Oh?” she asked, and the tip of her blade was right against her neck. “I’m a good girl now?”

Ikaris hummed.

“You can be,” he hummed.

Thena’s lips curled.

“And who says I want to be a good girl?”

She raised her spear to fight him, and Ikaris grabbed her blade before it could meet his skin.

He followed her lead, throwing punches and using his power to take distance and throw a punch that was quickly caught by her shields.

Thena threw him onto the floor, and had a taunting smile on her lips when Ikaris stood to fight back just as well, each blow of his breaking through her shields until they were gone, and Ikaris raised her up, carrying her against the wall and pressing her against it, holding her wrists up with a single hand.

“So you want to be bad?” he asked, close enough that her breath was tickling his skin.

She smirked, a long blond strand falling across her face.

"Maybe,” she purred. “Or do you want to be good?"

Thena raised her legs and kicked him away, making him fall to the floor and falling right on top of him, caging him in her arms.

He was shocked by her question, but quivered when Thena’s hand moved to his cheek, caressing it.

“Such a good boy,” she purred. “Trying to be a good Alpha for his Omegas.”

He panted as her touch made his skin burn.

“I…” he tried to speak but she shushes him, placing a finger over his lips.

Her armour disappeared, and Ikaris inhaled sharply at seeing her bare.

For Arishem, she was so beautiful.

“Do you want me, Alpha?” Thena cooed." she cooed. "Want to “Want to ffill me up?”

Ikaris shuddered.

"Please," he exhaled.

Thena chuckled.

"Needy Alpha," she straddled his lap. "Begging for cunt."

Ikaris let his armour dissolve away and she licked her plushy lips.

"I can see why they all want you," he hummed, moving her hand to touch his chest, fingers tracing each of his muscles and marks. "You are so perfect, Ikaris."

His cheeks heated up in a flush.

"Do they tell you that?" she scratched his skin. "Does submissive little Sersi moans about how pretty our Alpha is when you are fucking her?"

Ikaris panted, eyes tracing her body. Her breasts were larger than the other Omega's round and plump against her strong torso. Oh, how he craved to be buried in them.

"Does Ajak hum into your ear about how handsome you are when she begs you to knot her?" she moved her fingers down to his hips, teasing him near his crotch.

"Thena," he exhaled.

Her sweet fingers wrapped around his dick.

"Or does Makkari move her fingers," she raised her free hand to her face.

She rested her thumb on her chin, closing her fingers around it and then opening it in a little explosion.

'Beautiful,' her fingers said. 'Beautiful boy.'

Ikaris couldn't help but moan as she stroked his cock to life.

"Maybe that is what you want," she purred, tilting her head, watching him. "Being such a strong powerful Alpha... why don't you let me take the reins now, uh?"

He gulped and nodded, panting, eager.

"Ask politely," she jerked him, thumb circling his head and circling it, and he moaned, closing his eyes. "Be a good boy."

Ikaris wanted to fight for dominance, flip her over and knot her, but he couldn't. The way Thena spoke was so sweet and warm. It made him feel good inside. It made him feel important.

"Please, Thena," he moaned. "Fuck me. Be my Omega. Please."

She smiled, and crawled down his body, kissing her way down his chest, then his belly, and wrapped her lips around his cock.

She sucked shallowly, and oh Arishem, he wanted to grab her blond locks and push her down to take it all, but he didn't. Instead, he kept his hands where they were, like a good boy.

"Thena," he shuddered.

Fuck, he sounded so needy.

"Oh, my good boy," she purred, using her saliva to stroke him. "How can I say no to you?

Thena climbed up again and day on his hips, hands resting on his torso, and she raised herself up.

Her eyes fell on his, bright and unsure and Ikaris took in a deep breath.

"Please, Omega," he exhaled. "Be mine?"

Thena's face softened and she raised his chin with a single hand.

"How can I say no to this face?" she hummed.

She sunk on his cock slowly, sliding down and moaning softly.

Ikaris closed his eyes, moaning as her cunt took him, warm and soaked wet.

"Did fighting me get you horny, Omega?" he asked. "Sparring with your Alpha? Trying to beat me up?"

Thena slid down his cock at a snail's pace, face surprised and looking nearly suspended as if she wasn't sure of how it would feel until now.

And she was so fucking tight.

Maybe he was her first?!

The humans had their legends about her. Athena, the goddess of war and the wise. The virgin warrior.

Still. He couldn't ask. Instead, as she set on him and looked like she was trying to get adjusted, he cradled her hips.

"Let me help you," he offered, holding her.

Thena nodded, taking his help without many words, and moaned when Ikaris raised her up, slowly making her bounce on his cock.

"Fuck," she whined. "You're big."

Her cunt fluttered around his cock and Ikaris reached between her legs, playing with her clit.

"Oh, Arishem," she gasped.

He smirked.

"Do you like it, Omega?" he hummed. "My thick cock filling you up?"

Thena moaned, frowning a little angrily.

"Don't get co- OH!" she moaned when he rolled her clit a little tighter.

She trembled, shivering, and he realised she was cumming the moment her cunt squeezed him tightly, milking his cock with her spasms.

"Cumming for me, Thena?" he made her bounce. "Fuck, those tits are perfect!"

They were bouncing so beautifully. Arishem had made her so fucking sexy.

"Ikaris," she cried, spasming over him.

He sat up, giving up on saving face, and buried his face in her chest, sucking in her tits and making her moan, all sensitive.

"Good alpha," she cried as he wrapped his lips around her pretty nipple. "Oh, Arishem, I need..."

Oh, she was fluttering again.

"You need to cum again?" he hummed to her. "Around your Alpha's cock?"

She moaned, his greedy girl.

"Cum for me, pretty Omega," he moaned, sucking her breast. "Cum for your Alpha."

Fuck, how many times could he make her cum?

So he sucked more on her tits and played with her clit more, and fucked her faster.

Her voice grew so loud as she cried, overwhelmed with stimulation.

"Wait," she panted. "Ikaris!"

"Again," he growled. "Go on, cum again."

She slapped his shoulder, falling with his head into the crook of his neck, whining like a needy little thing.

"I thought you could take any challenge, oh great Athena," he taunted her.

Thena always hated it that the mortals mispronounced her name and thst was how it was recorded for the rest of their history.

She grunted, trying to pin him down, and Ikaris chuckled at her attempt.

"My blushing virgin Omega," he taunted her. "Wanna ride your Alpha good, uh? Hold me down and bounce that hot body over me?"

She huffed.

"I am a warrior!" she argued with him and Ikaris jsut smirked, biting her nipple. "Not just... FUCK!"

She came again, finally allowing herself to rest her face against his neck, and Ikaris used that moment to hold her hips while he fucked her up.

Thena cried into his ear as he let himself use her.

"Perfect strong Omega," he moaned into her ear. "Our warrior."

He wanted to sink his teeth into her neck and mark her as his, but he knew it wasn't going to make any difference. Being his had to be something she felt in herself, not a mark on her body.

"Alpha," she cried, voice trembling with the bounces.

"Say it," he growled, feeling himself about to fucking pop. "Say you're mine."

Thena cried.

"Ikaris," she clawed onto his back with her nails.

"I'll only knot you when you do," he grunted between his teeth. "I only knot my Omegas."

She whined.

"Please," she whimpered. "Please, I want your knot."

Ikaris sucked into his neck.

"Then say it, my warrior Omega," he moaned into her skin.

She cried out.

"I'm yours!"

Ikaris sucked her mating gland, and moaned when Thena came around him, letting his knot fill her sweet cunt up, and pulling her lips to his, kissing her deeply as they both panted, shaking and riding their pleasure.

She rested her head in the crook of his neck as they took a moment to catch their breath, and Ikaris kissed her showing skin.

"You're such a good Omega," he praised her softly.

Thena chuckled a little.

"You're telling me I'm good?" she teased him.

He gave her ass a little slap.

"Thena," he taunted her. "Be good."

His Omega giggled.

"I don't think so," she nuzzled into his neck. "You, Ikaris, be good. My big, good Alpha."

He whimpered a little, shuddering when she traced a finger up his back.

"Alright," he kissed her shoulder, cuddling together.

He'd let her win this round. Just this time.

. . .

“Apex Predator” was posted on my Patreon back in September! To read it now and have early access to my stories, consider subscribing! It’s just $2 a month, and it helps me a lot to go through these hard times.

…

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starryevermore · 2 years

Note

Another Ikuris angst request for you all! Maybe reader is human but maybe they are only friends? Reader is like “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, to think I fell for you” and he’s like “you can’t love me, omg, I was supposed to kill you.” “then do it already” ?

to die by his hand ✧ ikaris

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Another Ikaris angst request for you all! Maybe reader is human but maybe they are only friends? Reader is like “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, to think I fell for you” and he’s like “you can’t love me, omg, I was supposed to kill you.” “then do it already”?

pairing: ikaris x fem!reader

word count: 664

warnings?: angst, not proofread

Ikaris knew that you were going to die during the Emergence. And he knew that that might kill him more than anything. Unlike the rest of the Eternals, he never really got attached to humans in general. But you specifically? You were different. He may not care for humans in general, but you brought out a sort of affection in him that he never would have expected.

Some days, all he thought about was what it would be like to take you in his arms. To hold you close. To kiss you softly. To know what it was like to be loved by you.

But most days, he thought about what life would be like when you were gone. Human life was destined to end. It was his job as an Eternal to ensure that the Emergence occurred. He was never supposed to become attached to humans, much less one in particular. He couldn’t be like his fellow Eternals. He couldn’t think about such trivial things, no matter how much he wanted them, no matter how he yearned for them.

He had a mission to complete, after all.

He just never expected you to find out about that mission.

“What do you mean you have to kill Ajak?” you asked, overhearing him mutter to himself about his plans to make sure the Emergence still occurs.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

You frowned. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I have a job to do here. Ajak stands in the way of completing it.”

Ikaris had told you about him being an Eternal. He had never intended to, but as he spent more time with you, it was impossible for to keep it a secret any longer. But there was one thing he could never tell you.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see how killing her is the solution? How is she impeding your mission?”

Ikaris almost wanted to lie to you. He knew he would never be able to stand seeing the look on your face when you learn of the Emergence. But, he hated lying to you even more. So, reluctantly, he said, “She stands in the way of a Celestial being born.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Thousands of years ago, an egg was placed in Earth. It’s finally ready to hatch.”

“Hatch? But won’t that destroy the planet?”

“Yes. But billions more lives will be created by the loss of a single planet.”

“Are you really so callous?” you asked. “Do the lives here mean nothing? Does my life mean nothing?”

“My mission,” he said, “takes precedence against all else.”

You scoffed. “I can’t believe this. How could you do this? I thought we were friends, Ikaris. I thought you cared. I thought—” You shook your head. “Never mind what I thought.”

He stepped forward, reaching out to you. He flinched as you stepped away from him. This wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want you to be scared of him. “Tell me, please.”

“I loved you, Ikaris. I loved you more than anything I’ve ever loved before, but I know now that that can never be reciprocated.”

His heart dropped. “Don’t say that, please. Please. My, my mission may come first, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“Your mission is to kill me.”

“My mission is to make sure the Emergence occurs.”

“Which will kill me.” You shook your head, looking up to the ceiling. Ikaris pretended he couldn’t see the glassiness of your eyes. “I wish you would just kill me now. It might be a kinder fate.”

“Y/N—”

“Do it already! Kill me!” you snapped. “Or are you too much of a coward to do your dirty work directly? You’d kill an entire planet for your stupid mission, but you can’t handle killing a single person who tells you to? Regardless, I will die by your hand. What difference does it make?”

“The difference is that I love you too much to kill you!”

“But clearly, not enough.”

#ikaris imagine #ikaris x female reader #ikaris x fem!reader #ikaris x y/n #ikaris x you #ikaris x reader #ikaris fic #ikaris fan fic #ikaris fan fiction #ikaris fanfiction #ikaris fanfic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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sotogalmo · 5 months

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10:46

THIS IS SO SO ASUKA-CODED. PLEASEEEE SWEEE THE VISION OF CC BEING LIKE ASUKA WHEN HE GROWS UPPP ‼️‼️‼️

The " I don't need anyone then, I don't need anyone now.' evan thought bitterly as much as it hurt him to even think that". THIS JUST. WAAAGGG

It feels like Asuka, when she was having her moments of like. With her child self saying the truth, and her saying what she believes would help her

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ava-kedavra · 2 years

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part fourteen: reacquaint

Pairing: Ikaris x Reader

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

Words: 2708

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

link to part thirteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ignore it,” Ikaris pants in your mouth.

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

The knocking persists as you straddle him against the headboard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

You sit up on your knees, hovering over him.

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel like magic.

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

You feel like electricity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pecks your lips, “I’m glad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, and you furrow your eyebrows.

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

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

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

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

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

He breathes out, “yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pause.

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

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

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

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

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

You sniffle.

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

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

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

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

Bucky walks in soon after carrying a drink.

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

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

Ikaris nods towards the hall.

Bucky takes the cue, leaving the room.

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

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

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

Ikaris steps out and nods at Bucky.

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

“You won’t tell her?” Bucky asks.

Ikaris shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good,” you respond.

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

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

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

“A bit nervous,” you whisper to him.

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

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

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

THEY FINALLY FUCKING KISSED!!!

yes!!! I'm updating woohoo!

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

187 notes · View notes

moonboohoo · 1 year

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31 notes · View notes

cdragons · 5 months

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Fashion Mistakes

Pairings: Ikaris x Persephone!Eternal!Reader (Sephia) and Druig x Hecate!Eternal!Reader (Kaetlyn) Words: ~2.5 k Summary: Sephia needs a wardrobe upgrade, and Sersi is as much as a menace as Kaet sometimes Warning: Probably very inaccurate descriptions of historical fashion trends, Sersi is a 10/10 shipper, Kaety is dramatic AF, Druig is an unbothered king Notes: This drabble was inspired by a scene in 27 dresses, if you know you know. Please reblog and like and comment! Shoutout to @ethereal-athalia & @valeskafics for being the most supportive people on this platform!

You loved your sisters. But there were times where the two of them could be a bit…much, especially when they worked together. This was evident by how the two Eternals razed through her closet to sort out her clothes to decide which were to be kept, and which would be discarded. Every piece of furniture or tile on the floor was covered in an array of textiles and patterns as if a hurricane ran through a fabric store.

“Is this really necessary?” you groaned out.

“Yes,” came the two voices in unison.

“Don’t I at least get a say in what I get to keep?”

“No.”

“Can you the two of you at least look at me before you throw everything away?”

“Can’t.” “In the zone.”

“Druig?” you looked over to her brother-in-law for help, hoping that he could maybe talk his wife down. “Do you think you could maybe help me out here?”

The mind-controller Eternal was watching the same scene as his distressed sister, only with a much more amused gaze. He looked extremely out of place in the sea of colors in his ensemble of handmade cotton shirt layers with dark blue linen pants. The only accessories he donned were the ebony wood beaded bracelet Kaety commissioned for him over 500 years ago, along with the golden ring he wore on a chain from their private wedding.

“Unfortunately, Sephia,” he began, “I’m afraid that you’re unable to convince my angel, I won’t be much more help. But you are more than welcome to keep trying. Perhaps in your success, you may convince her to spare me a glance. As much as I adore time spent with our daughters, I feel a bit defenseless on my own.”

It was only when Kaety heard her husband’s little quip that she broke her concentration. She pouted her lips to show her displeasure, but only for a short moment before she crossed the room to embrace the man she’s loved for her entire lifetime. The pure love and adoration that shone in the pair’s eyes made it feel like you were the one intruding on a private moment than the other three in your own room. It baffled you sometimes to witness the pair’s love. It often left you wondering if you would ever be able to have a love and bond as strong as theirs in your future. But after living for over seven millennium, you knew that the odds were not in your favor.

“Feeling lonely, my love?” she asked so sweetly. “How cruel of me to neglect you in favor of someone else.” You rolled her eyes at her best friend’s facetious pity, Kaety loved teasing her husband almost as much as Druig loved teasing her. There truly weren’t two souls more meant for one another than the other.

Sometimes the site of their tender smiles and private laughs made your heart feel a bit heavy, since it hasn’t been long since you realized your own longings for love, especially towards a certain man with silver streaks and blue eyes.

“Sephia is right though,” commented Sersi, “we’re going to need more people to help out if we’re going to sort through this mess out. Are you sure Phastos can’t come?”

“It’s not so much he can’t, but more that he won’t.” Kaety explained whilst still locked in Druig’s embrace as he laid small kisses across her face. “He’s still insisting that the last time he was here, some of the ghosts latched on to him and took residence in his house when he got back.”

“And that claim would be completely out the question, why?” you quizzically asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Because they weren’t ghosts.” Kaetlyn stated in a matter-of-factly tone. “They were hobgoblins. And it’s not like they caused any trouble anyway! Ben and Jack didn’t even notice anything.”

“I still can’t believe that you managed to convince Phastos to let you babysit Jack. How do you explain it to Jack when he sees you do magic, or whenever the twins see something that he can’t?” Sersi asked as she continued to sort through the closet to see what else needed to be discarded.

“Oh come on! You make it sound like I’m incapable of not using magic for everything! I am more than able to not use it for a couple of hours, and the twins are still at an age when they point at something, we can just say it’s their imagination at work. Isn’t that right, my beloved?”

“Of course, my angel,” replied Druig, “but in the defense of our friend, our girls picked up on your tendency to pick up scary strays. Especially the kind who happen to have sharp teeth and a taste for humans.” His aquamarine eyes gleamed in mirth at his wife’s pout.

“How can you say that?!” Kaetlyn exclaimed indignantly as she lightly shoved his shoulder. “You make them sound as if they are no different from deviants, when they are far more adorable and lovable!”

“Only those with your blood will find such creatures ‘lovable,’” remarked your husband who would soothe your piecing gaze with a graze of his lips on your cheek, “my beautiful, beautiful Kaetlyn, Mother of Witches and Monsters indeed.” His last words whispered out so softly as he leaned in to kiss his beautiful wife, a kiss she eagerly reciprocated.

“Alright you two, let’s focus on the task at hand,” Sersi interjected the lovers’ quarrel, “so Phastos is out of the question in terms of helping?”

“Probably for the best anyway,” you confirmed, “Kaety still insists that his style is too much of a homebody.”

“Anyone who owns that many cardigans and sweater vests is already mentally prepared to be placed in a home.”

“But thankfully for us,” Sersi added on with a little gleam in her eyes, “I had enough foresight to predict our issue and already invited someone here to help us.”

“Please tell me you didn’t invite Kingo,” pleaded Druig, “I don’t think I can handle another one of those ‘tea parties’ he and Laoise and Aisling insist on putting on every time he visits.”

“No, it’s not Kingo,” placated Sersi, “but he should be here at any moment.”

She had that look in her eye that matched Kaetlyn whenever she came up with another one of her “ingenious” ideas.

“Um, he?” asked Kaety. “Whomst is this ‘he’?”

And like a stroke of magic, a knock broke them out of their conversation. And four pairs of eyes locked at the sight of a single man with a silver streak in his hair and devastatingly beautiful blue eyes that stood with so much self-importance you could choke on it five miles out.

“Judging by the look in your eyes,” he stated to break the shocked silence, “I can assume that I wasn’t expected to be here?” Whatever he was about to say next died in his throat at the sight of Sephia. The overloading smugness in his eyes softened to awestruck adoration when he took in the love of his life.

Here you stood, healthy and beaming, so different from the pale and tired figure that he had to come to terms with for the past 400 years. Here was Sephia, his Sephia, lively and standing and in good health. You weren't wearing the drab and shapeless dark blue and light gray garments that hid her sinful figure from the crowd. You instead wore a pair of dark blue wash flared jeans, along with a square neckline white floral patterned peasant blouse, paired with antique statement rings and delicate necklace. It was as if you was brought straight from an issue of Vogue in the seventies.

“Ikaris,” you whispered.

“Stars,” he thought, “even her voice no longer sounds as strained.”

Thanos ruined plenty of lives, made a mockery of the Avengers, and wasted 7000 years of hard labor in postponing Tiamut’s emergence with just a single snap of his fingers. But in Ikaris’ mind, all of that was justified if it meant he got to see his flower blooming in all of her rarity, as opposed to withering away in a dark and damp jungle. Half of the universe was gone now, but Sephia was healthy and alive and strong – and that meant even more to Ikaris than failing his mission to Arishem.

On the other side of the room, you stood in silence as she took in the sudden appearance of your friend. Partially in mortification that he was seeing the state of her room in the mess it was in. But a larger part in joy in seeing your friend who long became the man you gave her heart to since the first time he decided to wait outside the commune’s borders because you wanted to show him your garden. But all in shock that he decided to willingly come so close to Druig and Kaet in their home where their children reside far from the rest of humanity.

“Ikaris!” Sersi exclaimed with a tone that convinced no one that she didn’t plan this happening. “Thank Arishem you’re here! Luckily, we’ve already decided to keep everything up to the late 19th century, but from here on out we need to sort through the past 10 decades to make room for a more modern ensemble. In fact, you really do have great timing because I need to go somewhere right now, and so do Kaety and Druig. SO, we will just leave you two alone!”

Silence still rang through the air as one pair could only stare in longing for the other, while another pair stood next to one another in disbelief as one other person was basically shoving out the door. But silence was not for long as Kaety took matters in her own hands as she turned to her beaming friend in trademark green once all three were all out of earshot.

“Sersi, what Lovecraftian fuckery are you pulling right now?”

You stood in one of your favorite Thea Porter’s dresses, trying very hard to calm the rapid beating of her heart, all to prepare herself to once more face the man on the other side of the changing screen. You never expected to see him in your room, still as ruggedly handsome as he would always remain. You never expected to have these feelings for Ikaris- for anyone really- but they grew to the point where by the time you recognized it, you was already in the middle. Feeling your face heat and fluster, you put your hair in a simple and loose braid in attempt to cool herself. Stepping into view, you tried your best to seem calm and collected, but everything inside you felt anything but that.

“This is one of my favorite dresses,” you stated, “what do you think?”

“I think you need to take off that dress and wrap those legs around me so I can take you on every surface of this house in a tree,” was the first thing that came to Ikaris’ mind. But he couldn’t say exactly that, and so all he stated was the second thought in his mind. “You’re beautiful Sephia, you’ve always been beautiful in everything you wear.”

The sincerity swimming in his eyes made you wish you could drown in them. Blushing mad with a shy smile, you did her best to not seem like you wasn’t bursting at the seams from joy at his words. “Ikaris, the only way I’ll be able to get rid of anything is if you be honest.”

“Sephia,” Ikaris replied, “there is truly no one on this planet who could ever compare to you, in radiance and in beauty. I honestly can’t think of anything that wouldn’t look perfect on you.”

“Well, I do have something that I think may change that opinion,” you remarked with a twinkle in your eyes before dashing inside your closet to grab something and once more hiding behind the change screen. “Wait for a little bit, it takes a while to put on!”

After a few minutes of audible struggling, Ikaris was tempted to ask you if you needed any help taking off putting on your outfit, when you announced that you was done and then stepped into view, and Ikaris’ eyes grew wide with horror.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a hobble skirt!” you exclaimed, far too amused by reaction. “It was a very short-lived trend in the US from 1908 to 1914. Its popularity declined during World War I.”

“I can see why,” Ikaris remarked, “are they at all comfortable?”

“Oh, not at all. But they did serve as inspiration for the sheath skirts in the 1950s.”

“Sheath skirts?”

“Pencil skirts, I suppose. But it does look awful, doesn’t it?”

“Ugh, terrible. Is this the worst one you have?”

“Oh no, this doesn’t even come close.” You went back to your vintage treasure trove to search for a particularly dreadful ensemble, and what you pulled out could only be described as an antebellum nightmare. “This is my favorite, by far.”

“Oh my-” Ikaris’ hand covered his mouth in horror, “what the hell is that? And please tell me that you didn’t actually commission this to be made for you.”

“You’ll be happy to find out that I did not ask for this to be made for me. It was a gift from the matriarch a very sweet family I was staying with during my travels in 1850s.”

“Gift? Sephia, that’s not a ‘gift.’ That’s a punishment in the form of flouncing yellows, oversized orange flowers, and what I assume to be 15 layers of petticoats.”

“10 layers, and this is only the dress. Wait till you see the bonnet that comes with it.”

“Oh gods – there’s a bonnet?”

“And a matching parasol.”

Momentary silence echoed between them before a huge grin spread across his face. “That’s it, you need to put that on, right now.”

For the next several hours, the two went through only the very worst contents of Sephia’s closet. From the green taffeta balloon dress from the 80s to the orange ballerina dress that looked it was designed by a ballet-obsessed 8-year-old, they spent the entire day laughing and smiling more than either had in the last five centuries. The sight of it all made Sersi so happy in knowing she had been the cause of this success.

“You know what you’re doing is really creepy, right?” Druig commented, bringing his friend out of her dreams of planning her friends’ future wedding as she continued to spy at the happy almost-couple with Kaety’s magic.

“If watching Ikaris cutely interact with the love of his life through your wife’s magic shadow thingy so that I can get enough pictures for the slideshow I’m making for their future wedding, then fine I’m creepy.”

A soft babble from the babe sitting on her father’s lap prevented Druig from remarking on that “fascinating” idea as he peered down to see his four-month-old daughter point a chubby finger to her mother who was lying face-down on the floor as her sister sat on top of their Mami.

“Sorry little dove, Mummy can’t play right now. She’s in mourning.”

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @aphroditesmoon, @its-actually-minicika, @tess-love, @asa-do-your-thing, @sunphyre , @myfairkatiecat, @beananacake, @tesha-i-guess, @kyliesgwagon, @getawaycardotmp3, @littledoveofchaos, @she-wintersoldat, @lavenderwisteria, @jolixtreesunn, @bitchylesbian

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#marvel eternals #eternals x reader #marvel x reader #druig x reader #ikaris x reader #druig imagine #druig x eternal!reader #ikaris imagine #ikaris x female reader #ikaris x eternal!reader #druig x female reader #druig x oc #ikaris x oc #27 dresses fic #eternals fic #richard madden x reader #barry keoghan x reader

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