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thewitchandtheassassin · 2 days

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Club Midnight (Carol Danvers x Reader)

Summary: A night out goes in your favor.

Words: 932

Warnings: A little mature but not fully NSFW

Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife @natasha-danvers @aaron-despair @username23345 @xjiasx @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @onlyafewfindtheway @captain-josslett @hayleyokami @aznblossom @everything201197 @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @evilcr0ne

-X-

Agreeing to go clubbing with your team had been a… choice.

Tony had suggested it, calling for a celebration of your latest mission. He’d originally suggested throwing an extravagant party but decided he wanted to see the city more, so he’d whisked the team away to Club Midnight and for some reason, you’d stupidly agreed. Maybe it had been the enticement of booze, maybe it had been Wanda’s promise to dance the night away with you.

(Or maybe it was because the great Captain Marvel herself was going and you were desperately hoping to impress her… or end up in a dark corner with her. Whatever came first.)

-X-

Music pounded through your skull as your hips found the beat of the bass. Following Wanda’s lead, you watched colors dance across the witch’s liquor-flushed cheeks, her sweat becoming a galaxy against pale skin.

Vision is a lucky fuckin’ robot, you mused, thoughts loose and free as alcohol coursed through your veins. If Carol hadn’t caught your eye all those months ago, you probably would’ve chased the brunette swaying drunkenly in your arms. Dragged her down a darkened alleyway…

Tossing her head back, Wanda laughed and looped her arms around your neck.

You smooth talker, her voice swirled through your mind like warm honey. But I don’t think Carol would be too pleased if you tried.

“You don’t care what Vision would say?” you wondered curiously, tilting your head with a smirk.

She shrugged, playing with the hair at the nape of your neck with delicate twists of her fingers. “Vision is… comfortable, but he lacks fire. If I had thought I stood a chance with you, I would’ve taken it ages ago but…” she glanced over your shoulder at the glaring blonde, dressed in a simple but tantalizing black dress, lingering near the bar. “Someone claimed your heart long ago and who am I to stand in the way?”

Your smirk faded into a soft, captivated smile. “You are a precious woman, Wanda Maximoff. Don’t settle just because it’s easy.”

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to her hairline affectionately. She burrowed into the embrace for a moment before stepping back with a knowing grin. Your eyes narrowed for a moment before a red glow sent you spinning around, away from the witch.

“Did I interrupt?” Carol questioned, voice gravelly with barely concealed jealousy.

Dragging her into your arms and onto the floor, you wordlessly urged her to fall in with the rhythm of the song. “Not at all, sugar. I was just waitin’ for you to come keep me company.”

Strong fingers dug into your shoulders as Carol matched your actions. Hers were a bit stunted, unfamiliar with such things, but you didn’t mind. Slowly grinding your hips into hers, you stored away every shift in her expression and nearly moaned as her perfect teeth buried themselves in her bottom lip when your thigh slid between her legs for just a moment.

The songs came and went, but all you could see was the haze overtaking blue eyes. Could feel the thrum of your heart beating violently against your ribs. Could taste iron on your tongue when you bit too hard.

As she loosened up, Carol’s cheek found yours as her movements grew more natural. One hand on the back of your neck, one on your shoulder, the smell of her perfume flooded your senses. Her hot breath tickled the shell of your ear.

“I haven’t danced like this in a long time,” she murmured, her lips fluttering just so against the tense flesh of your throat.

Swallowing dryly, you chuckled breathlessly. “I honestly couldn’t tell.”

She stared at you, studying the curve of your jaw and the heat in your gaze. You looked properly debauched and she hadn’t done anything yet. Like you wanted to consume her very essence, as if she were an oasis and you were a dehydrated explorer lost in the desert.

One particular roll of your hips sent the flame in her core rocketing into an inferno, the slick of her thighs noticeable. She briefly wondered if it was leaving a stain on your pants, but the way your head tipped closer to hers drove the thought from her mind.

“I really want to kiss you,” you admitted quietly, watching the emotions flicker in her eyes. “I have for a while.”

Carol shivered at the reverence in your voice. Like she was a goddess you intended to worship thoroughly.

“So do it,” she challenged, her brow barely having the chance to arch before your lips found her. It was a bit messy, tequila lingering on your tongue, but as it traced along hers, she found she didn’t mind. Moaned as your fingers gripped her hips roughly, certain there was a dark, wet spot on your leg.

Pulling back slightly, you panted against her lips. “C’mon.”

You stumbled through the throng of people crowding the dance floor, unbothered by their blatant staring. Carol’s fingers were so warm laced with yours and it grounded you, even as you found a secluded corner away from prying eyes. Her back met the wall readily as you trapped her between the poorly painted space and your body, foreheads pressing together for a moment.

“I really like you,” you whispered, afraid to break the curtain of lust shrouding you both but needing her to understand this wasn’t a drunken romp. “I have for a while.”

Her lips curled into a pleased smile.

“Good,” she purred, fingers curling around the collar of your shirt. “Because I don’t plan on sharing you after this.”

#mcu imagine #avengers imagine #carol danvers imagine #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel imagine #captain marvel x reader #the avengers imagine #reader insert #reader imagine #marvel imagine

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thewitchandtheassassin · 14 days

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tuna

Shrimp?

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thewitchandtheassassin · 18 days

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A Pirate’s Life for Me Part Nine (Wanda M x Reader x Natasha R.)

Summary: It all ends here.

Words: 1709

Warnings: Heavy violence, language

A/N: We have one more chapter to go, friends. We're almost there. Eat good.

Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife @natasha-danvers @aaron-despair @username23345 @xjiasx @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova @summergeezburr @imnotasuperhero @miscmarvelwritings @captain-josslett @onlyafewfindtheway @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @evilcr0ne @nightingalexx@suki-is-a-queen @kaosrsing

-X-

The waves of sea licked the side of Rumlow’s boat, the salty spray splashing across your skin. Watching the ship begin to travel with the wind at a hurried pace, you couldn’t stop the smirk upturning your lips. They were coming for you…

And now you could finish this charade.

Strolling up to the helm of the ship, you studied the helmsman for a moment before glancing at Rumlow with a charming smile. Adding an extra sway to your hips and a demure expression, you barely forced away a snort as his walls crumbled into dust at his feet – hypothetically. The tension of his jaw went slack, stiff spine relaxing as a smarmy grin curled at the corners of his mouth. You nearly shuddered; he truly thought he was appealing.

I’ve never met a more disgusting human in my life.

“I was never allowed to helm… their ship. Would you teach me?” Batting your eyes at him, you could see the conflict in his eyes and, in hopes of pushing him into compliant, pushed your bottom lip out into a soft pout. “Please?”

The gentle tone shifted his posture and he uncrossed his arms, shoving the helmsman from his post with a grunt.

“Of course, my lady,” he husked, gesturing for you to stand in front of him.

Nearly rolling your eyes at the blatant proposition, you settled in front of him, ignoring the subtle push of his hips into you as your hands gripped the wheel. His rough hands fell atop yours as he explained the intricacies of steering the ship.

(It took everything in your power not to point out every lie and idiotic statement he made, having been taught long ago by Yelena how to navigate and steer the ship. It was clear his intention was to sound intelligent but the words he dared to speak only confirmed your beliefs that a starfish was smarter than the man behind you.)

Carefully, you began to tip the wheel to the left. It wasn’t much, but opening up the side might help your partners in their endeavor. Too distracted by the close proximity, Rumlow was ignorant of the change – and it felt like a grand victory.

You waited until you were certain there was no way to stop the ships from meeting, you twisted out of his arms playfully. A quick peek around the deck, most of the men had scattered to other places along the ship and the two on the deck were staring at the floor, refusing to look up for any reason.

As though they’d been warned not to look if something like this happened.

Swallowing a noise of fury, you winked at Rumlow.

“Thank you for the lesson, captain,” you purred, fighting the sickness bubbling in your stomach.

His eyes danced along your form, lingering on your chest before drifting down your waist. “I believe I deserve some payment for such a detailed lesson.”

Tilting your head, you hummed teasingly. “Get your men off the deck and you just might.”

Eyes going wide with surprise and excitement, Rumlow was bellowing before you finished. “Head down below! Now! And fuckin’ stay there until you are called for!”

Both men scurried to the hatch, heads bowed and steps heavy as they disappeared from sight. There was an eerie silence that befell the deck for a second before Rumlow stalked towards you with intensity in his gaze. The glint was predatory, as though you were a deer trapped in the forest, but he seemed to forget that you were a pirate.

And you’d learned to fight dirty.

Backing away from him, you beckoned him over to the hatch - though he didn’t seem to notice, brain too fogged over with lust. Delicately nudging a crate onto the door with your foot, you ran a mischievous hand over his chest before shoving him onto the makeshift seat – and, more importantly, keeping his back to the approaching ship.

Settling on your knees before him, you blinked up at him shyly.

“I have always wanted to do this,” you cooed, touching his cheek softly, letting your digits tickle his beard for a moment. “I believe this has been inevitable from the beginning.”

His lips stretched into a cocky, pleased grin as he reached for the buckle of his belt.

Peering around him, your bashful expression fell into dangerous glee.

“Well, get to i –”

The impact rattled you to the very bone but you rolled out of the way as the vessel rocked dangerously, sending the crate – and Rumlow – sliding towards the side of the ship. He tried to catch his footing, but the momentum of the weighted box slamming into his legs and the unbuckled breeches sent him careening over the side, the crate following close behind.

There was an odd silence before the cheers and shouts of your friends filled the air, their steps echoing along the damaged floor of the ship as they boarded the halted transport. They looked geared for war, pistols and swords at the ready as the angered thumps of steps up the ladder below grew brash.

The hatch flew open but you didn’t care, hurrying to the pirates flooding the ship. Yelena tossed you a rapier, nodding as you passed her. It felt right, having a sword in your possession once more, the familiar heft a comfort.

Metal clashing rang out behind you but all you could see was your waiting lovers, standing on the edge with matching passion in their eyes and wrath painted across their features. Dropping the rapier, you cupped Wanda’s cheeks and slammed your mouth into hers. Your hand slipped away from Wanda’s face, though your lips continued to meet hers repeatedly, and reached out to tangle in Natasha’s hair. Releasing Wanda’s mouth, smirking at the shine on her lips before glancing at Natasha, you yanked the redhead close, swallowing her noise of surprise as your tongue met hers.

Startled by the sudden onslaught of your mouth, she was oblivious to the hand snaking the dagger from her hip.

If we live, I will return this.

It was hard to let go, being so close to them after being stolen away and trapped with Brock Rumlow, but you separated from the stunned pirate, retrieving your rapier from the deck.

“We end this. Today,” you declared, steeling your face as you peered over your shoulder to study the chaos brewing around you.

You turned and pushed into the fray towards Yelena, blocking a blade as it carved down towards your head. Shoving your assailant away, your boot met his chest with an audible “thump” as you sent him tumbling off the ship. His scream was lost in the madness but you took satisfaction in knowing he’d find a watery grave.

All of them would, if you had anything to say about it.

You could hear Kate’s screams of rage as she tore through a handful of Rumlow’s men, her shirt splattered with crimson and torn around her midsection, though it was apparent the blood was not hers. Yelena was at her side, fending off another group of men, but she was clearly smitten by the brutality and fury inside the brunette.

I want to officiate their joining, you mused absently, yanking a wooden shield from a man’s hands before slapping him across the face with it. The wood splintered beneath the impact, his skull crunching as he crumpled to the floor of the ship.

Smirking, you twisted around – only to come face to face with an enraged, bloody Brock Rumlow. Gasping softly as a blade slid into your belly, you watched the triumph glitter in his eyes, red dribbling down the handle of the dagger. Dual screams echoed above the pandemonium but you couldn’t stop to think about it as he ripped the metal from your stomach, feeling the blood begin to pour down your flexing abdomen.

He lunged at you again, the dagger aimed at your chest, and time slowed to a creep.

Even if you died, either by his blade or by the fates’, you were determined to take him with you. Screaming in agony and hatred, you sidestepped his outstretched hand and slammed your thigh into his stomach. As he tipped forward in surprise and pain, you gripped his face and dug sharp nails into the flesh beneath his eyes, raking downward. Your fingers grew slick but you didn’t care, slipping deeper into his skin as you led his thrashing, screaming body to the side of the boat.

He would die by your hand and yours alone.

Grabbing at your wrist, he tried to dig his heels into the deck but the determination of your rage kept your steps steady and grounded. “You fucking bitch! I will kill you and your whores!”

“You tried that once and failed,” you snarled, jerking him around so you could stare into his burning eyes. Ripping the nails from his skin, your hand dropped to his throat and squeezed while the other retrieved the dagger from your side. “You will not get that chance again.”

Unable to stop himself from tipping over the edge as you pressed, he instead held your upper arm in an iron grip and wrenched backwards. “I will see you in hell, bitch.”

Feeling him drag you along, your lips twitched into a cold, numb smirk as you embedded the hidden blade into his chest with a finality before following him overboard. “You first.”

His eyes widened as you both plummeted towards the water, his hands releasing your arm as realization dawned on him. His arrogance was his downfall, expecting you to simply shove him off again. Never believing you were smart enough to outwit him, he never thought he’d lose. To you.

For a moment, there was only peace. The wind was howling in your ears and the water was fast approaching but all you could see was a panicked Rumlow pulling the dagger from his chest as he crashed into the sea and disappeared below the dark, thrashing surface. Closing your eyes, the pain overtook your senses and at the first touch of icy water, the world went dark.

But you were happy– and you were free.

This really was a pirate’s life for me.

#reader insert #avengers imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov x reader #reader imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #scarletwidow x reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #scarletwidow #black widow x reader

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thewitchandtheassassin · 19 days

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The Moonlight Chronicles (Alex Danvers x Reader)

Summary: A weekend escape away from National City and the DEO leads to an unexpected adventure.

Words: 1684

Warnings: Blood, mentions of violence

A/N: So, this is kind of a series but it will be completely out of order and not really set up to be a set story, per se. It was suppose to be a smut one shot and instead, I created way too much backstory. And here we are.

-X-

Sipping the rum from her tumbler slowly, Alex’s eyes lingered on the flickering television screen but she couldn’t tell begin to tell someone what she’d seen. Lost in thoughts of danger and regret, she was oblivious to the world outside of her mind.

She’d taken the weekend off, disappearing into the mountains and renting a cabin in hopes of shaking the distress from her soul. Being the director of an organization like the DEO was taking its toll on her but she refused to acknowledge it. She couldn’t let Kara down or let J’onn question if he made the right choice.

It would devastate her.

Taking another drink from the crystal, she nearly dropped it in surprise as something thudded against the side of the cabin – hard. Tossing her glass onto the table beside her, paying it no mind as the amber liquor sloshed onto the wood, she yanked her gun from its holster on her thigh before hurrying out into the moonlit night. Peeking around the side of the cabin, she could just barely make out a slumped shadow leaning against the wall. Even in the shade of darkness, blood was visibly dripping from a gnarled wound in the middle of its chest and for a moment, Alex’s gaze softened.

She inched closer, wincing as a twig snapped beneath the weight of her boot, but the creature didn’t seem to react. Heavy pants filled the air, an occasional whine meeting perked ears, but nothing more.

As the light of the moon drifted over the shadow against her cabin, Alex had to swallow her noise of shock. It was a wolf, but… larger. More humanlike than the wolves she’d seen before. It was standing on its back legs, crimson soaking the fur on its chest, but what caught her by surprise was the recognition in golden eyes. They regarded her with a knowing glance before rolling back into its skull as it fell limply to the ground.

Stepping towards the creature, she watched in astonishment as the fur began to recede back into flesh and the body slowly shrink from its nearly eight foot height into the form of a humanoid woman. The sound of bones reconnecting nearly sent her stomach rushing up through her throat, but she managed to choke it back. The blood spilling from her chest seemed to slow, yet the puddle was still growing around her.

“Of course I couldn’t have a vacation away from weird shit,” Alex grumbled, moving over to the woman and bending down. “At least she’s not a wolf anymore.”

-X-

The first thing you noticed when consciousness dragged you from your dreamless slumber was the ache in the center of your chest that spanned across both sides of your breasts. Whining low under your breath, your human hand reached up to touch the abused flesh, only to touch bandage instead. Eyes snapping open, you forced yourself to remain motionless.

You were staring at a ceiling. A ceiling that was not your own. There was a ceiling where the sky should be.

“What the fuck?” you mumbled, carefully righting yourself and glancing around.

The first thing you noticed was that the couch you were sprawled across was fucking hideous. It clashed with the rustic atmosphere of the cabin. Lip curling, you plucked at a piece of fuzz on the cushion.

“That thing is ugly, right? It’s not just me?” an unfamiliar voice broke you from your thoughts, sending you careening off the couch and onto the floor with a resounding thud. “Jesus, be careful! You just stopped bleeding!”

Gaze hazy with pain as the dull ache roared into searing agony, short dark hair and hazel eyes came into view when the unknown voice stepped around the couch and leaned over you worriedly. She was staring down at you, trepidation and concern warring in those… pretty… eyes…

“Wow,” you whispered, feeling the wolf within tremble and lurch. For a moment, you feared it would escape, but the second gentle hands touched your wrapped chest, it went silent. In that moment, it was simply you and her, trapped in the quiet of such an intimate act (especially between two complete strangers).

“Here, let’s get you back on the couch. I think you reopened those wounds.”

Helping you back onto the cushion you’d violently vacated, practiced fingers unwound the gauze and bandage holding your torso. You could feel the sticky ooze grasping at the cloth, trying to keep its place on your body, but the woman was steady and completely at ease as she tugged it away.

“I’m Alex,” she murmured, studying the leaking claw marks. “What are you? An alien? Metahuman?”

“Werewolf,” you grunted, gritting your incredibly sharp teeth as she touched along the raw edges of the gashes. “Born, not bitten. Been like this my whole life, so I’m not a danger to you. The beast is well under control.”

Alex’s fingers stilled. “I hadn’t thought otherwise, honestly. I thought if you were going to attack me, you already would have.”

Startled by the blind trust, you slowly nodded. “I’m (Y/N).”

It was odd, how easily this woman had accepted your supernatural abilities. Most humans turned tail the second something like you came too close, yet here she was, cleaning your bloody chest like it was an everyday occurrence.

“Why?”

Beautiful irises flickered up to meet yours, a lazy smile upturning Alex’s pretty pink lips. “I’m the director of an organization that monitors extraterrestrial entities and presences on Earth. And before that, I worked as a scientist. I’ve seen and fought far scarier beings than you. When I found you last night, you didn’t lash or try to attack me. And it seemed like you trusted me not to kill you even as you passed out, so I thought I’d do what I could to help. I don’t know what your physiology is like, but I figured basic trauma care would be okay.”

“I heal quickly,” you offered with a chuckle, though your amusement was short-lived. “Or, I usually do. I spent a lot of fucking energy last night trying to escape that…”

Noticing the hesitation, Alex’s brow arched curiously. “Escape what?”

Eyes jerking between hers, you considered your options. She already knew too much, but you couldn’t stop yourself from spilling everything. Anything she asked, you’d tell – and you had no idea why. There was something about her that felt safe and calming, like finding the shore after a shipwreck.

“I am a lone wolf. Kicked out of my pack for refusing to bow to some prick who thought he was the rightful alpha of our pack. And he… found me last night. I escaped but he did a number on me, unfortunately.” Pausing for a moment, you realized how that might’ve sounded and hurriedly continued, “But he shouldn’t come here! I wouldn’t put someone else in danger like that.”

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “Of all the things I expected to find in the middle of nowhere, warring werewolves was not one of them. I thought I’d see deer or foxes or… hell, maybe even an alien. Not that.”

“Most people don’t,” you acknowledged with an uncomfortable snort, looking away as Alex finished cleaning your chest. “…so, director of an alien organization, huh? What’s that like? How does that even happen?”

“My dad and mom are both scientists. They found themselves in employment with some people who worked with the organization and that put me on their list once I went to college and showed an aptitude for some of the more delicate pieces of the job.”

Her shrug was meant to be nonchalant but it seemed forced – a deflection – but you didn’t acknowledge it, grateful for whatever truths she chose to offer.

“Huh, smart and beautiful. A helluva combination.”

Alex’s cheeks grew hot beneath the earnestness of your words, amazed by how sincere you seemed to be. She couldn’t deny it was thrilling to be called beautiful by someone who exuded such confidence and dominant energy.

(And she couldn’t deny that she thought you were stunning. For Rao’s sake, she was only human and you were naked. There was only so much she could do!)

“I’m here for the weekend. Why don’t you stay and heal? We can get to know each other better,” she suggested with a hopeful grin, eyes lowering bashfully as she admitted, “It’s been kind of lonely up here by myself and I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Excitement surged through you as if it were lightning in your veins, grinning at the prospect of spending time with your savior. Tilting your head in acceptance, your grin grew sheepishly apologetic. “I’d like that. I uh… should warn you, though. I might end up eating most of your food? Werewolf metabolism and stuff.”

Patting your bare stomach, trying to ignore the flex of muscle beneath her fingertips, Alex smirked. “That is nothing new for me. I come prepared for things like that.”

Storing that information away for another day, you peered down at the digits absently stroking your abdomen. She didn’t seem to realize she was even doing it, but you could feel the subtle press inward as your muscles flinched and tensed beneath her touch. Dull nails tickled the soft flesh, but you didn’t mind. Her caress was soothing yet invigorating and you wanted nothing more than to trace your own fingers over her slightly tanned skin.

Brow arching, you chuckled as the fingers continued their nonsensical patterns. “Could I get some clothes? Mine were shredded and I don’t think you want me walking around naked for the next couple days.”

Oh, you have no idea.

“Y-yeah, I can do that,” Alex rasped, finally dragging her hand away from its perch. “Give me a second and then I’ll make breakfast.”

Licking your lips, you watched her stagger off the couch and into what you assumed was a bedroom. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe you would only place her into danger, but you were a selfish creature by nature.

The wolf wanted her – and for once, you might just be in agreement.

#reader insert #alex danvers imagine #alex danvers x reader #alex danvers #supergirl imagine #reader imagine #dc comics imagine #dc imagine #dceu imagine #arrowverse imagine

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thewitchandtheassassin · 22 days

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A Pirate’s Life for Me Part Eight (Wanda M x Reader x Natasha R.)

Summary: You've been taken, now he's being hunted.

Warnings: Violence. Lots of violence.

A/N: I haven't died. I swear. I'm... hopefully gonna have more stuff soonish.

Lingering between consciousness and slumber, Natasha’s arm tightened around the lithe waist of the woman tucked against her chest, dragging her closer into the embrace as she breathed in the earthy, addicting scent of Wanda. Her fingers flexed outward in search of the other woman often curled around the brunette’s back but found no warmth to satisfy her quest. She grunted in displeasure, both from the lack of you and the dull sounds of the world waking outside the four walls of their temporary bedroom.

Drifting deeper into the land of dreams, she was almost asleep once until the jarring sound of a sudden, sharp yell sent her upright. Wanda yelped in surprise, nearly toppling off the bed before Natasha’s strong hand caught her upper arm.

“Natasha!” Yelena’s voice was clear among ruckus, the familiar twang of metal meeting filling what should be silence.

On her feet in an instant, she was swift to find her discarded sword before charging out the door with a half-dressed, disoriented Wanda close behind, her own weapon in hand. Rushing at Yelena’s assailant as she barreled out of the room, she jammed her blade through his side with practiced simplicity before shoving his soon-to-be-lifeless body to the floor.

“What the fuck has happened?” she demanded, peering at her crew fighting with familiarly dressed men throughout the hall.

Maria’s attacker was already on his knees, choking on the crimson gushing from his open mouth. Kate had a man pinned to the wall, her knuckles split from the repeated motion of her knuckles meeting his face as she screamed at him with a ferocity that would have normally made Yelena swoon, if the situation were any different. She was young but fierce, a trait that often left the blonde drooling (much to Natasha’s amusement).

But you were nowhere to be found – and that didn’t sit well with her.

“Rumlow. He’s kidnapped (Y/N),” Yelena grunted, driving her sword through another man as he stumbled past her. “She threw a rock through my window. Woke me before his men began their siege on the inn. She left us enough time to stop a massacre, but I could not stop him from taking her. She was fighting him when I last saw her but I lost her in the attack. I am so sorry, captain.”

For a moment, the world narrowed into a darkened tunnel, blood roaring in her ears. You were taken. You were taken and they hadn’t been able to stop them.

With a furious, guttural scream that could’ve terrified the bravest of people, Natasha stormed over to the man locked in battle with Darci and slammed him into the wall. Startled by the sudden movement, his hand smacked off the wall and his sword skidded across the floor away from him as it tumbled from his grasp. His throat bobbed nervously as the tip of her blade dug in just below his chin, the rage in her eyes chilling him to the bone.

“Where is he taking her?” she snarled, watching emotionlessly as blood trickled onto her blade.

“W-we were told to k-kill you all and meet him at the ship! If we did not return, he will set sail for Cape Cod. To wed Lady (Y/N).” The man’s cheeks were flush with fear, tears sliding over heated flesh and the front of his breeches darkening pathetically.

Lip curled in disgust, she dispatched the man with a flourish, never breaking eye contact even as his head fell away from his shoulders. Turning as his lifeless body slumped to the floor, she returned to her partner and right-hand with determination in her gait.

“We must dress and see if those on our boat still live. We have to stop Rumlow before he reaches Governor Pierce and Cape Cod, lest we…” she trailed off.

Despite the fire in her gaze, Wanda could see worry and panic peeking through. She was certain there was a similar concern mirrored in hers. If they could not get to you before he made landfall, would you be lost to them forever?

-X-

Fidgeting with the iron cuffs locked uncomfortably around your wrists, you growled as the tension in the chains endured. You’d been unconscious when they’d tossed the metal upon you and there was little means of escaping from them. It didn’t help that were confined in the belly of the ship, tucked in a dark space, with no means of finding a way to extract yourself from them. You’d initially been given a bed in the Captain’s Quarters, but you’d been thrown into the belly so you wouldn’t “cause the captain anymore problems”.

(It wasn’t your fault he was not fast enough to stop your teeth from sinking into the side of his hand after he dared to caress your cheek. Clearly he needed practice in moving quicker.)

The hatch above your head slowly creaked open, a shadowed face peering down at you. Darkness danced along his features, but you could vaguely make out the outline of the man serving as Rumlow’s right-hand, Helmut Zemo.

Truly the epitome of young and dumb.

“Are you alright, miss?” he awkwardly squeaked, his smile curled in an almost unnatural way.

Snorting, you narrowed your eyes into unimpressed slits. “I’m trapped in the belly of this bloody ship after being kidnapped, with no food or water or warmth, in the dark and wearing chains. What do you think?”

His cheeks grew ruddy under the contemptuous venom in your words, eyes flickering over his shoulder for a moment.

"Ah, apologies. That was a stupid question." Smiling uncomfortably, he opened the hatch a little more. "Would some fresh air help? Maybe some rations? It's not much but I don't feel right letting you starve to death down here."

Kidnapping and holding me hostage is fine, killing my family is fine, but letting me starve bothers him?

Resisting the urge to let your eyes roll back into your skull, you forced a meek smile at him. "That would be lovely, sir."

Perking up at your sudden compliance, he slowly ushered you up the rickety ladder before leading you out onto the deck of the ship. Keen eyes were studious and discrete as you looked upon the frothy waters but you saw no sign of your ship. For a split second, you wondered if they would abandon you, leave you to this fate - or worse, if they were icy corpses back in some dingy inn - but you shook away that thought. You were not helpless. If they did not come, you'd save yourself and spend your life searching for answers or revenge.

Whatever may come.

-X-

The first time he allowed you onto the deck, the crew had watched you with wary scrutiny. So you kept your wits, eating and drinking what you could to the best of your abilities. You would keep your cards close to your chest, watching the waters in hopes of seeing the flying colors you’d come to love on the horizon. And after a few days of being let topside, the scrutiny faded. Even Rumlow would hover less, choosing to stare at you from a distance, his face a mixture of disgust and longing. He clearly hated you for the choices you’d made – choosing those harlot pirates over a dignified man like himself - but that boyhood obsession of his still remained, burning in spite of his revulsion.

On your seventh day of being allowed to drink in the fresh air, Zemo carefully unlocked the metal from your wrists, wincing at the raw flesh beneath. "You are expected to wear these in the evening, lest you be tempted to overtake the ship, but Captain Rumlow believes you will not lash out during the day."

Delicate fingers traced over the abused skin. Glancing up at him, you demurely smiled, batting your eyes.

"Thank you. I see there is no point in being a problem, it would serve my best interests to learn more about this ship and its people. If I am expected to marry Brock, I should know you all better."

The lies poured off your tongue with ease, so honey-sweet and gentle that Zemo was oblivious to the dangers lurking beneath the surface. In his line of business, it should have learned to never trust a pretty face and yet, here he was.

To be so dumb and trusting, you mused, forcing away the smirk threatening to overtake the innocent smile.

The sun was high in the sky when you first noticed it. A tiny blip on the churning waters. It was quite a ways back, but the strength of the wind seemed to offer bursts of speed for the somewhat smaller vessel. None of Rumlow's crew seemed to pay any attention to the ship, far too arrogant to acknowledge they might not succeed, but you repeatedly peered over to it as the day crept along...

And you knew what comes next.

-X-

Tucking away the spyglass, an unnerving expression befell the redheaded pirate as she considered what to do. She could see you atop the boat, staring at her ship expectantly. As if you knew they would come.

A small piece of her wondered why you were allowed to trudge about so freely on that repulsive creature’s ship after you’d been taken, but she trusted you.

She always had.

“Is it them?” Wanda inquired quietly, following Natasha’s eyes.

“Yes,” she murmured, gripping the hand that fell into hers, “I can see her standing on the deck. She knows we are coming.”

Wanda’s brow pinched as her lips turned down. “Do you think -”

“No.” The answer was abrupt and severe, halting wandering insecurities before they ran wild. She wanted to shake herself for ever having such a concern; she didn’t want Wanda to slip down the same path of thought. “She is a brilliant woman. I do not doubt she has played into Rumlow’s ego and pride to give herself an advantage. I believe she is simply waiting for a sign.”

Nodding, a steely resolve refined Wanda’s features. A thirst for blood and war shined treacherously in emerald irises, a sheer contrast to the sweet woman who often graced the boards of their fine ship.

Back straightening, Natasha was transported back in time, to their early years of pirating. Watching her lover carve through pirates and imperials alike, her grace unfathomable even as she ended lives and bloodlines without a second thought. Remembered her bewitching dance of death, the vicious and beautiful intricacies of what was normally such a brutal act slowly earning her the name of Scarlet Witch, whispered across the seas in fear and awe.

And she could see herself, eyes empty and blade meticulous. Could remember killing her mentor and hearing him whisper the name, “Black Widow,” as blood spilled into her hands and onto her worn boots.

Swallowing down those memories, Natasha’s resolution became tangible and clear.

“Aim for that ship – and ram it.”

#reader insert #avengers imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov x reader #reader imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #scarletwidow x reader #scarletwidow #wandanat x reader

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thewitchandtheassassin · 2 months

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A Pirate’s Life for Me Part Seven (Wanda M x Reader x Natasha R.)

Summary: Life is never simple

Warnings: Violence, smut

A/N: Howdy.

-X-

Door slamming open as two drunken bodies slammed into it, you giggled wildly as Wanda blindly slapped it closed, her mouth never leaving yours. One hand tangled in your hair, she walked you back towards the rented bed before shoving you onto it with a vigor you hadn’t expected, but surely welcomed. Staring up at the glorious sight, brunette locks cascaded around her face as she yanked off her vest and undershirt and for a moment as they fell away, she stopped being a feared captain of the seas.

Now, she was simply your Wanda.

She was tipsy, the crew having celebrated the latest victory against the empire in some obscure tavern the moment you’d reached a port, but her movements were so fervent and desperate that it only served to sober you. Reminding you that the life you chose was worth it. All the moments of glory meant nothing. All that mattered was her – and this.

She wanted you and by the gods, you wanted her more than you’d ever wanted anything else.

You’d invited Natasha to join you, tempting the other captain with a playful bat of your eyes and crook of your fingers, but she’d waved you off with a knowing grin. She often spent time with you both individually and together but it wasn’t often that you bedded Wanda alone and she knew you needed that time as much as she did.

Besides, she’d bet Yelena far too much gold that she could outdrink the young pirate to back out now.

Tossing your own clothes aside, harsh fingers found purchase on sun-kissed hips as Wanda straddled your waist, her hair a soft curtain around your faces as her lips reunited with yours once more. Swallowing her wanton moan, your grip tightened until you were fairly positive she’d have your finger prints sprawled across her skin long after they were gone. Tasting the liquor on her tongue and the desire on her mouth, you were quick to swap positions, pinning the feared pirate leader to the bed. The fierce warrior on the battlefield was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a desperate woman who needed to be touched – used – like a…

“My, my, aren’t you a pretty whore,” you cooed teasingly, gripping her throat in a confident grip, the pressure firm but comforting. “Humping me like a mongrel in heat. Shameful. I bet you would’ve let me fuck you in front of the entire crew if I’d asked. Bent over the barkeep’s table while Natasha and I took turns unraveling you.”

A choked whine escaped kiss-swollen lips as Wanda’s hips lifted urgently, grinding against nothing.

Smiling mercilessly, you dragged your teeth across her shoulder, her chest, leaving bruises and bites in your wake, before skipping over straining, pert nipples. Tongue tracing over the lines of her stomach, dipping into the divots of her hips.

It felt delicious but you were driving her mad, ignoring the places she wanted you.

Your hands fell to her sides, keeping the squirming pirate’s lower half immobile on the mattress. You took the time to explore, nibbling along prominent hipbones before finally inching your mouth closer to her dripping core. The smell was intoxicating and the memory of her taste left you frantic, drawing you in like a moth to flame.

Like a pirate to gold, you smirked.

At the first flick of your tongue, Wanda nearly bawled in relief as you began to suckle and tease her aching clit. Hot and wet and persistent, she couldn’t tell what was lip or tongue or fingers as you tortured her in the best possible way. It was overwhelming and too much but also not enough? She didn’t know up from down or what day it was but she knew that if you stopped now, she’d cry.

Walls fluttered around your digits as you continued to thrust into the mewling brunette, her need painting your mouth as she grinded into the sensations you were pulling throughout her body. Every nerve was alight, every inch of her glistening in sweat as she chased her release.

One thrust.

“Oh gods, don’t stop.”

Thrust.

“Please, I’m so fucking close.”

Thrust, thrust, suck.

“Please, please, please, please!”

The orgasm crashed into her like a tidal wave. A storm out at sea. She could swear she saw the gods and goddesses above. Everything was light and sound and taste before darkness. Before her bones disappeared and she became nothing more than pleasure within her own skin.

Dropping boneless onto the mattress, her cheeks flushed and heart pounding in her ears, Wanda smiled serenely up at the ceiling, hips jumping with every lick as you cleaned up the nectar you craved. There was something about her – and Natasha – that drove you to the brink of insanity and back, a constant craving sitting in your belly as you wished for a moment alone with them.

-X-

Stumbling down into the bar the next morning, wincing as the sunlight only served to further the pounding in your skull, you signaled the barkeep for breakfast as your head fell upon the sticky, wooden surface of an empty table. You had no idea how long it took for food to arrive, a glass of mead slamming down beside it, but the smell both hungered and disgusted you. Wanting to be ill but starving, hunger won out as you wolfed down the presented meal.

Forcing the last bite, you glanced up to study the dining area. You were the only member of your crew who’d ventured down for breakfast, but other patrons and denizens milled about, some just as hung over as you while others looked refreshed and cheery. What caught your eye though, was a familiar face in an unfamiliar place.

“Rumlow,” you mumbled, shoving your plate away.

He was glaring at you, sunlight glinting off the pistol he had pointed in your direction. It was subtly resting atop the table – like it had always been there – in a way that most would overlook it, but not you. Glancing down, you considered your options. Flipping the table over would only trigger a fight you were ill-equipped for and if you had to wager, there were others in this tavern who were likely working with him.

Outnumbered and outgunned, you sneered internally, cursing yourself for only adorning your dagger this morning.

He nodded towards the door, thumb falling to the hammer of his pistol when you refused to move. You watched his eyes flicker towards another gentleman near the stairs, a silent signal that left a ball of lead tumbling into the pit of your stomach. Natasha and Wanda had been passed out when you’d snuck out of bed, the liquor heavy in their veins. If he found them…

Choking back your rising panic, you stood up from your chair hastily and began walking to the door, thoughts racing. There was no way you could get to them without some measure of resistance and there was no easy, fool-proof way to stop Rumlow that wouldn’t cost a handful of people their lives.

The stale, salty air stung your eyes as you stepped into the daylight, squinting against the harsh sun. It was still early, the lack of travelers evident as you slowly inched away from the door and towards the side of the tavern. It’d be nearly impossible to determine which room had been yours, your memories hazy with lust and liquor, but almost every room had been seized by a member of the crew. Hurriedly grasping a few rocks in your hand, you spun as the door swung open and you came.

“My, my, being a pirate sure has done wonders for you,” Rumlow leered as he took you in, dragging his tongue along his teeth in a way that left you shuddering with revulsion. “Be a good pet and come quietly. There’s no need for bloodshed. You’ve had your fun; now I want my wife.”

Counting his paces silently, you waited until he was only three steps away before spitting in his face with righteous indignation and disgust. He sputtered in surprise, haphazardly wiping the spittle from his flesh - and offering you an opening. Spinning to look at a window, you launched the handful of rocks at the nearest windows, watching with gratitude as the stones smashed through the glass, skittering across the wooden floor of the inn. The patron – or patrons, depending – scuttled about, startled by the sudden intrusion as you heard them scurrying towards the window.

Rough hands gripped your arms, demanding your attention as a fist slammed into your cheek from the opposite direction. Head snapping back, you blearily glanced up at the windows and caught sight of Yelena’s blonde locks and furious eyes staring back at you from the newfound gaps in the glass. The butt of his pistol met your temple, knocking you almost unconscious within his grasp, though you tried squirming from his grip even as numbness began to cloud your mind.

“You will be my wife,” he snarled, another man latching onto your other side as they began dragging you away. “And your whores will pay for what they’ve done. They’ve made enemies of the most powerful men in the world. No shore will have them and the sea will only remember their blood as it washes away.”

“Help… them…” you croaked out, blatantly ignoring Rumlow.

You smiled, blood clinging to your teeth, as understanding flooded Yelena’s eyes and she disappeared from sight.

Twisting your head to glance at Rumlow, you smirked defiantly despite the overwhelming ache in your skull. Blood was trickling from your head, smearing across your cheek, but you didn’t care.

“You will not survive this,” you chuckled wearily, studying the twitch in his jaw and the vein on his forehead. “They will kill you all. Rip your men apart with their bare hands. Their teeth. Leave nothing behind, even for the sharks. And I’ll be the one to raise your head onto a pike when it’s all over. I wouldn’t be your wife even if you were the last viable human to walk the lands. Always such a disgrace.”

He grunted to his men, nodding towards the inn, but you knew it was too late. Everyone and their brother would be awake now.

Yelena had that effect on people.

“No piece of you is worthy of the title human, let alone husband.”

Slumping in his arms, you begrudgingly accepted fate as darkness flickered around your gaze before swallowing you into its cold embrace.

Oh, what a pirate’s life for me.

#reader insert #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #scarletwidow x reader #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarletwidow #avengers imagine #reader imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine

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thewitchandtheassassin · 9 months

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Fates Divine: Tomorrow is Another Day (Yennefer of Vengerberg x Reader)

Summary: Things never seem to go to plan.

Words: 2627

Warnings: Language, feelings, violence?

A/N: I'm in love with this story.

Series Masterlist

-X-

Drifting between the outer twilights of sleep, consciousness toeing the line of sleep and alert, you were awoken suddenly by pained whimpers and soft pleading. Eyes snapping open, gold leveled upon Yennefer slumbering a few steps away from you. Her long fingers were tangled up in the warm fabric of her blanket, beads of sweat clinging to her pinched brow. Her lips were moving – clearly trapped in a silent conversation – before another whine escaped.

Rising up from your bedroll, you cautiously ventured over to the sleeping mage. Settling on your knees before her, a gentle hand nudged her shoulder.

“Yen –”

Before you could finish her name, the air was stolen from your lungs, sending every nerve within you alight with adrenaline, as you stared into unseeing violet eyes, the taste of magic lingering in the stillness around you both. The unforgiving pressure tightening around your throat was stifling despite feeling no hand but you did not panic or flinch, forcing as much breath as you could through her unwavering magic. You could feel the familiar point of a blade digging into the juncture of your neck but she didn’t move.

So neither did you.

“It’s me, Yennefer,” you exhaled, relaxing slightly as the pressure softened somewhat. “You’re safe. It is just me.”

She blinked, realization dawning upon her slowly as she regained her senses.

“You were simply having a bad dream,” you promised, nearly gasping as the heaviness constricting your lungs disappeared abruptly.

Yennefer’s eyes were wide with regret, tears swimming in her waterline as she sat upright. “I am so sorry. I did not… I…”

Smiling kindly, you winked at the witch before taking a spot beside her. “This isn’t the first time a beautiful woman has held steel to my throat and I’ve always enjoyed a little choking here and there. Though it commonly involves less clothing.”

Yennefer laughed, though you could hear the emotion rippling through its steady burst. “Only you would say such things to the woman who almost killed you.”

“I have been known to prefer women that possess the ability to kill me,” you remarked with a smirk, shrugging nonchalantly despite the seriousness of the situation moments before. “There is something incredibly enticing about it.”

“You are an odd woman, Witcher.”

If someone else had spoken those words to you, you might’ve taken some offense to it, but staring into the moonlit violet, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Maybe it was gentle affection glistening in her eyes or the intimacy of how she leaned into your side just slightly. Maybe you were growing soft with age.

Maybe she truly was just… special.

“Rest. Knotgrass Meadow will only be a few hours ride away come morning and we’ll need to be on guard if the rumors and bounties are true.” Gesturing for her to lie down, you did not move away even as she reclaimed her previously abandoned position. “I will stay here. No monsters shall harm you while I’m here.”

Her brow furrowed but you pressed a finger to her lips before she could argue your decision.

“Sleep.”

-X-

Knotgrass Meadow was a fairly calm town, home to many Halflings and other non-humans trying to avoid the idiotic persecutions they often faced. The inhabitants weren’t exactly happy to see a Witcher walking through their village but they overlooked it when you began inquiring about their werewolf problem.

Besides, Witchers were just as unfavorable to the humans so they could make an exception for you. Especially if you were willing to banish the monsters ravaging their home.

Yennefer lingered outside the town’s walls, stroking her newfound mare’s mane as she waited for you to return. Nimble fingers brushed through coarse strands, her mind wandering with thoughts of the Witcher accompanying her. You were an enigma to everything she’d ever known about Witchers. For a creature fueled supposedly by coin and nothing more, you certainly seemed… different.

“We should begin our search a little further north tonight,” you announced unexpectedly, startling Yennefer as you unwittingly dragged her from her thoughts. Offering her a loaf of bread you’d been gifted, you hungrily nibbled on the other. “A pack of ‘em are supposedly camped out in the woods not far from here. People keep hearin’ their howls. The halflings say we’re welcome to rest here until we drive out their beast problem.”

“A grand honor indeed,” Yennefer breathed, biting into the freshly baked good.

Grasping Lyrium’s reins, you led your companions towards Yrim’s Inn. The eyes of wary Halflings lingered on your form but you purposefully ignored them, refusing to give them another reason to be distrustful. It took everything in your power to ignore Yennefer’s warmth nearly pressed against your side, though, as she kept close to you in this unfamiliar territory.

Tying both horses to a post with ease, you gestured for Yennefer to step inside before following suit. As the inn doubled as the town’s tavern, a plethora of beady eyes landed upon you, the noise dropping to near silence while they waited for someone to react.

“(Y/N) of Vizima,” the barkeep greeted calmly, setting aside the ale glass she’d been meticulously drying. “It has been a long time.”

“Razmatha,” you returned the greeting with a smile, bowing your head slightly. “You look well. Not a scar in sight.”

The barkeep couldn’t contain her smirk, stepping around the edge of her bar to stare up at you. “Not for a lack of trying by that pretty silver sword of yours.”

Violet eyes traced the side of your head in confusion, baffled by the nonchalance you and the barkeep exuded. As if this was a completely normal interaction. It was impossible to tell if she was expected to be cautious or if she should be as relaxed as you seemed to be.

“Hey, I apologized! Bought you some good ale too. Can’t bygones be bygones?” you jested, grinning at Razmatha. “I spoke with the mayor. He said he would convince you to give us lodging.”

Her head lolled in acknowledgement. “He did. I did not realize, when he said Witcher, he meant you.”

Yennefer’s brows furrowed at the tone but you remained unfazed.

“What say you, Razmatha? Might we have a room?”

The Halfling’s face was impassive, studying every line and scar etched into your skin. You were different than she remembered. Calmer. Steady. As though your wild years had abandoned you, leaving behind a seemingly peaceful Witcher in its wake.

Gazing deeply into the unnerving gold peering back at her, she finally found what she was looking for and sighed deeply.

“There’s an empty room upstairs at the end of the hall. It’s all I can offer you and your… friend. Everything else is taken right now. Halflings have been coming through in droves hoping to get protection from the werewolves and humans alike.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I hope that we won’t overstay our welcome.”

“He did mention you were planning to hunt the wolves. I suggest waiting ‘til tomorrow night, if I was you. Save some energy. It’ll be a full moon and those ravenous beasts will be causing all kinds of chaos.”

You hummed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“The room you’re in has a tub. You should bathe, Witcher. I can’t imagine your companion will enjoy sharing accommodations with someone who smells like they’ve been sleeping in barns since last winter.” Razmatha grinned, though you could feel the pointedness of her words, eyes drifting along your dirty attire and over your smudged flesh.

Grimacing, you chuckled awkwardly. “Duly noted, ma’am.”

-X-

Wringing the water from your stark white locks, you carefully stepped around the partition separating the tub from roaming eyes. Yennefer was sitting on the edge of the bed, her newly washed hair still damp and shining in the candlelight. You couldn’t help but note the scope of the bedding, realizing that if you were both planning to sleep, you’d be entirely too close to such a beautiful witch.

Gods, what have I gotten myself into?

Discretely glancing about, you tried to find a viable solution but there was little floor space and nothing you’d risk sleeping on lest you break the downsized furniture.

“They never expect human-sized patrons, I suppose,” Yennefer commented, capturing her bottom lip in thought.

“We are the first allowed to sleep within their home, I believe.”

Tossing your towel aside, you settled beside Yennefer.

“I am fine sharing a bed with you,” she mumbled, a faint hue darkening her cheeks as she peered into the unlit fireplace. “I see the worry in your eyes. Though I understand if you don’t wish to share with me, considering what happened…”

A callused hand landed atop hers.

“I have no qualms about sleeping with you, Yennefer. I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” Wincing at your choice of words, you nearly apologized but decided against it.

After all, it was a true statement either way.

Yennefer’s blush deepened but she didn’t shy away from the contact so you took it as a minor victory.

“I say we listen to Razmatha and get some rest tonight. A full moon will grant you the most potent werewolf saliva and if we’re lucky, you’ll have some to spare afterward.” You squeezed her hand before rising, nodding towards the door. “How about a drink?”

Razmatha was swift to accept your coin as you grabbed two meads from the barkeeper, passing a mug to Yennefer before snagging a nearby table. It was a bit too small, knees hitting the underside of the wooden top so hard your drink nearly tipped over, but you didn’t mind as Yennefer giggled, a tiny sheen of foam clinging to her lip.

“Never thought I’d see a clumsy Witcher,” she teased, smirking at the scowl marring your features, though it held no fire.

“And just how many Witchers have you met, mage?” you bit back, eyes lingering too long on her mouth as you watched pink flesh swipe at the sticky foam, mind wondering into indecent territories.

With that, conversation began to flow like honeyed mead. Stories of Aretuza and Kaer Morhen passed between you, the hesitation and secrecy you bore slowly tumbling away with every new tale. You even dared to mention your childhood, insignificant pieces of your past that you cared little about. Those moments held no real meaning now, your life as a Witcher far more intriguing.

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted, setting aside your empty mug. “You’ve met Geralt of Rivia? The king of broody men? Who names his horses Roach? Not just one but all of them?”

“I have. He was quite handsome though his personality can certainly be… off-putting, at times.”

Pursing your lips, you rolled your eyes at the notion. “Geralt, handsome? What a vile thought, though his little witch seems fond of him.”

Yennefer paused, mug nearly touching her lips. “Who?”

“Triss… something. Real pretty thing. Keeps the big man in line whenever he’s not questing about the continent.”

“Merigold,” Yennefer finished knowingly. “I am not surprised she took a shine to him.”

Leaning back in your chair, you watched Yennefer finish her drink. Her eyes were glossy, mead threatening to replace the blood in her veins as she swayed just slightly to the sweet crooning of the Halfling bard.

You’d never seen a prettier sight.

Always having believed fate to be nothing more than a fictional hope, you’d never considered the idea that maybe there were some things in life that were inevitable. But a sliver of you couldn’t help wondering if this was fate. Meeting this incredible woman; helping her when she was in need. What if, in all the fucked up things you’d gone through and survived, meeting her was the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel?

Shaking your head as the thoughts ran rampant, you stood. Extending your hand to the wide-eyed mage, you peered over at the dancing patrons, all drunk on mead and high spirits.

“May I have this dance? Might as well act like locals for one night.”

Yennefer met your unwavering gaze, weighing the cons of such a decision. It was a single dance but she feared the ramifications. She’d only known you a handful of days but she couldn’t deny the truth. You could unravel every wall she’d built; touch pieces of her soul that she deemed forever lost.

“Y-”

Panicked screams echoed just outside the doors of the inn, drawing your attention immediately as the music ended abruptly. Hand flying up to grab the hilt of your sword, you rushed out the door and into the fray of madness without a second thought, regretfully leaving behind your would-be dance partner. Senses sharp despite the mead, you noticed a lone werewolf tearing through the village and coming rapaciously towards you while the Halflings flung themselves into safer spaces, desperately trying to avoid the monstrous, hungry beast.

Growling low in your throat, you readied your blade. Sidestepping the fiend, fur drenched in fresh blood, you dragged the silver across its bulging side in hopes of slowing its riotous pace but it only served to infuriate the wolf. Anticipating its charge, your blade slid between its teeth, sliding backwards as it continued to push you. Sharp incisors repeatedly clash against the silver, unfazed by the inevitable sting but you never faltered.

The creature froze, head snapping back to stare at its hind leg and forcing you to do the same. Tendrils of magic were anchoring it to the earth, but it only served to fuel its hatred. Releasing your blade and slinging you aside, you rolled onto your feet in time to see fur flying towards Yennefer. A shield met it mid-air but the beast shouldered through it as though it were parchment, startling you both. Yennefer was by no means weak, which meant…

“He’s enchanted, get down!” you howled, time slowing as you forced yourself to move faster than the werewolf. All you could envision was Yennefer, caught in the monster’s teeth, forced into a miserable existence or an early grave.

Your shoulder slammed into the beast, feet losing ground as you sent the wolf and yourself crashing into a vegetable cart. Ears ringing and blood oozing from your temple, you didn’t have a chance to react to the mouth latching onto your side until it was too late.

“Fuck!” you screeched, bashing the hilt of your blade into its head repeatedly before shoving it into the side of the wolf’s throat.

A garbled wail escaped its mouth as it freed you from the bite, crimson spilling from the wound and painting the ground around you. It thrashed its head about desperately before stumbling into the darkness of the nearby woods. You tried standing, determined to end the beast before it could escape your sight, but the fire in your side forced you down, bare hand turning crimson as blood seeped through the cracks of your fingers.

“Stop, Witcher,” Yennefer chided, landing beside you and pressing her hands delicately onto the raw flesh. “You’re losing too much blood. Death will take you before you ever reach him if you do not tend to it.”

“I’ve had worse,” you grunted, choking back a whine as gentle fingers probed about. “He’s injured. Now is the best time –”

“No! Now is not the time. Not if it gambles your life too,” she argued, ignoring the hiss of pain as she helped you unsteadily to your feet. “Tomorrow.”

Peering about at the terrified Halflings, clearly distressed by the night’s events, you swallowed another gasp. You didn’t take pleasure in their fear and you certainly despised the apprehension blossoming from Yennefer, knowing the wound only served to worry her.

You refused to consider why it upset her so.

“Tomorrow.”

#reader insert #yennefer of vengerberg x reader #yennefer vengerberg #yennefer of vengerberg imagine #the witcher imagine #reader imagine #the witcher

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thewitchandtheassassin · 9 months

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Y’all... when I say this is gonna be a series... I mean it. I have plans and this shit is... slowburn heaven.

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thewitchandtheassassin · 10 months

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Fates Divine: The Journey Ahead (Yennefer of Vengerberg x Reader)

Summary: Contracts must be fulfilled and sometimes, feelings are an adventure.

Words: 2582

Warnings: Witcher-esque violence, language (which, tbf, these two warnings are going to be throughout the entire series)

A/N: I have so much planned, holy shit. (Yer a witcher, Harry).

Series Masterlist

-X-

The morning air was crisp; the heady smell of berbercane fruit flooding Yennefer’s senses as you meticulously peeled the dressings from her chest and shoulder. Once white, it was dusty pink and sticky with drying blood. Which was good, even if you weren’t satisfied with the raw flesh knitting itself back together. Her potion had served to only hasten the process but not enough.

“If it begins to burn or you feel weak, tell me,” you commanded, concern softening the sharp bite.

The genuine worry bleeding into your words left Yennefer’s heart aching though she couldn’t blame it on the wound marring her chest, despite valiantly wishing to. There was something beautiful and disarming about a Witcher caring so diligently for a woman she’d never met before. No coin could forge such dedication and warmth; if you simply cared about the gold, you wouldn’t be touching her with such reverence.

As though you worried she’d break beneath your fingers.

It was odd. It’d be so long since she’d felt a kindness such as this before. In Aretuza, there had been a sisterhood but no real gentleness. No care. Most mages did not truly care when a sister went missing unless it affected them. And while she was certain Tissaia loved her in her own way, it often seemed… superficial.

Even Istredd was a lie, in the end.

Fingers brushing across her cheek brought Yennefer from her thoughts, eyes focusing to meet your questioning gaze.

“Are you okay?” you murmured, separating the callused, sword-worn appendages from her warm flesh. “You seemed… somewhere else.”

“I am fine,” she promised with a watery smile, carefully fixing her tunic and cloak back into place. “I was just lost in my thoughts. I am not used to being cared for, much less by a near-stranger.”

Chuckling, you stood from your kneeling and offered her your hand. “I doubt it feels any odder than it does for me to care for a human. I can’t remember the last time I helped someone without coin involved.”

Accepting the gesture, she watched you wander off to your grazing horse. “I suppose you should fulfill your contract with the Oxenfurt people before we venture off into the wilds?”

You rolled your eyes, tossing the saddle over Lyrium’s back, gesturing for the beast to rise. You settled your bags and Yennefer’s along the back, checking their sturdiness before glancing at the violet-eyed beauty. “Unfortunately. It’s a simple case of drowners roaming the nearby river. Apparently some children wandered down there and… you can imagine.”

Yennefer winced sympathetically.

“C’mon,” you waved her over to Lyrium, a mischievous smirk upturning your lips. “Can’t have an injured woman walking when there’s a perfectly healthy mare in front of ‘er.”

Before she could argue, you grasped her hips with firm, confident hands and lifted her up onto the beast’s back. Her shrieks of indignant surprise nearly sent you stumbling back with laughter but you managed to keep yourself upright, barely avoiding her flailing feet as she tried to adjust herself upon your horse.

“You could have simply asked,” she admonished, watching warily as you swung up behind her. “Is this how you treat all the women in your company?”

She swallowed back a gasp as hot lips brushed the shell of her ear, your hands taking the reins with practiced ease.

“I assure you,” you hummed lowly, “I can be incredibly gentle if a woman wants. All you have to do is ask, biauté.”

Beautiful.

Yennefer’s cheeks went warm with color at the term that fell so easily from your lips. It wasn’t uncommon for people to find her beautiful now, since her ascension, but a brief wonder crossed her mind.

Would you have thought that before?

Arms bracketing around her as Lyrium began her trek back to the dirt trail, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

-X-

The journey to the river was quiet, Yennefer’s head tilted back slightly as she bathed in the morning sun. You were completely aware of the intimacy of your position – practically embracing her while leading your mare onward, her dark locks tickling your scarred cheeks and the smell of lilac and gooseberries filling your nose – but it was the safest place for a non-Witcher these days, should they be traveling on horseback together. Any dumb bloke with too much mead in his veins and a worn crossbow might see her as a target and you’d hate to spill blood so early.

It didn’t help that guards and villagers alike were shooting you nasty glances as you neared your destination. You’d even considered kicking one in the head when they called her a “mutant fucker” under their breath but they weren’t worth the unnecessary spectacle that would surely ensue.

“When I slide off Lyrium, take her a few paces away from the riverbank and wait for me,” you instructed as the sound of drowners met your perked ears. “She doesn’t spook easily so she shouldn’t buck you.”

Yennefer nodded, hands sliding over yours atop the reins. “Be careful, Witcher.”

As the beasts noticed your horse, you lifted from Lyrium with effortlessness and dropped gracefully to the ground, drawing your silver sword before your feet ever touched the dirt.

“Let’s make this easy, yeah?” you taunted the screeching creatures. “I’ve got places to be and you… well. You’re just ugly.”

Knocking two of the charging beasts back with a burst of fire, you rammed the silver blade through a third one’s chest. Shoving it off, you lobbed another’s head off with a flourish, dodging the droplets of blood that flew past your face. It was obvious this was a dance you’d perfected over the years, utterly unbothered by the creatures attacking you.

Yennefer was enamored by the delicate footwork and elegant swordsmanship. To most of the world, it would be a daunting task to rid Oxenfurt of the creatures but you made it seem like child’s play. Never blinking or faltering, you were vanquishing them without a single hesitation.

It left an unfamiliar burning in her stomach, one she hadn’t truly felt in decades.

As the last beast fell, you smirked triumphantly and her heart dipped into her belly. Employing you to help her on this quest might be her absolute undoing…

Wiping the blood from your blade with a handkerchief, you slipped it back into its sheathe and crossed the river to your horse. The smell of something heavy and divine met your nose but you were oblivious to the source, riled up from the successful hunt.

Catching Yennefer’s gaze, you were stunned at how dark and glorious her eyes looked in the high sun. It almost seemed like she wished to devour you, but you hurriedly dismissed that thought as wishful thinking.

“Just need to return to Lord What’s-His-Fuck and then we begin our search for your werewolves,” you announced proudly, reclaiming your seat behind Yennefer and snagging the reins from her tight fists. “Are you alright? You seem tense.”

“Fine,” she replied in a clipped tone, clearly unwilling to elaborate despite it serving to only pique your curiosity.

You considered pushing but it wasn’t your place. She was paying you to slay a werewolf, not speak about her problems. If she wished for you to know, she would tell you in her own time.

Besides, you were far better at listening.

-X-

Tossing the coin purse in the air as you ventured out of the lord’s gaudy, snobbish abode, you were satisfied with the reward hoisted in your tight grip. He’d paid a hefty amount for something that required little skill – for a Witcher – but he’d never know and you’d never tell. What good would it do to rub salt into the wounds of a grieving man?

And more importantly, you weren’t a charity so it was best for you both. He received his justice and you earned your coin. All was balanced in the world, if only for a moment.

Finding Yennefer among the crowds of commoners was simple enough. Lyrium was a large beast and frankly, the sorceress set your senses ablaze so tracking her down took no time. Chatting with an herbalist, it was clear she was disappointed by his supply of ingredients though her demeanor never changed.

“Thank you for your time,” she smiled graciously, relaxing as you settled at her side. She’d known you were coming the moment your eyes fell upon her, the unseen caress a wisp across her form.

The herbalist’s smile grew tight with panic as he realized who – or rather, what – you were. It was frozen to his cheeks but the fear was evident and glaring. Or, maybe it was distaste. You didn’t know nor did you care. Humans were all the same in places like this.

Yennefer frowned at his sudden change, a flurry of furious words lingering on the tip of her pointed tongue. To fear you for simply existing seemed ridiculous, considering you’d vanquished their drowners and most likely solved a dozen other problems for them during your time in Oxenfurt.

“Some drowner bodies down by the river,” you informed him without sparing a single glance. “Might want to find an alchemist to go collect the important bits before they rot or the crows pick them clean.”

“O-of course,” he choked out, stumbling away from his stall like it’d caught fire. “Right away.”

Your brow arched. “Do you think he realizes he just left all of things here… unguarded… including gold? The thing us mutants supposedly love more than anything?”

“Bastard deserves it if everything goes missing. Let’s go.” Yennefer spun away from the stall, grabbing Lyrium’s reins as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her as she stalked away from the market. “Bloody cretin running away like you were the drowner.”

Shrugging, you kept pace with the irate sorceress, ignoring the way people practically dove out of your way. “It’s nothing new for me, Yennefer. I assure you. Humans will do as they do. You should know that better than most. This bloody war has put them farther on the edge than they already were. They feared us before. They hate us now but we’re an unfortunate evil they have to keep around.”

“We need unity more than anything in times like these,” she stated with determination, words wavering with idealism and hope, both rare to find nowadays. “Nilfgaard is breathing down their necks and instead of uniting the continent, they’d rather drive out the elves and ostracize those they deem undesirable! And that doesn’t include what humans are doing to themselves. We need peace; we need harmony.”

“I fear we haven’t had that for a long time,” you mused, offering an apologetic half-smile.

Yennefer’s frown deepened and for a moment, you hated yourself for dimming the light of her hope. Part of you was cynical, having met some of the worst people, but you were also a realist. If harmony were possible, it would have already been achieved and yet, all you could do was look at the disarray the continent had fallen into.

“We should find you a new horse while we’re here,” you declared, carefully directing your thoughtful companion towards the stable. “It’s surely better than being forced to ride with me. Your luck, some dumb sod might shoot a bow at me and hit you instead.”

Yennefer’s yelp of startled laughter was cut short by the sound of blades being drawn and you paused, Lyrium neighing unhappily at the abrupt motion.

“Where are you going, freak?” a nasty, nasally voice pierced your ears, earning a wince of pain as your ears protested such a horrendous sound. It was unpleasant, grating to every fiber of your being. “We don’ want yer kind ‘ere!”

Pivoting to face the knights creeping towards you, a humorless smirk greeted them. “Simply helping the lord with the drowner problem. Planned to purchase a horse and be on my way. That’s all.”

“That’s all? That’s all? That’s never all when you fuckin’ mutants come scurryin’ about,” another knight spat, spittle flying from his chapped lips. “We should gut you like a fish!”

Hand rising to grab steel, your head tilted mockingly. “I’ve had better men than you try. Want to see what I did to them?”

The stench of fear wafted about in waves, flooding your nose and dragging a genuine smirk forth.

“You know, I’d wager you’ll want to have those trousers cleaned soon, otherwise the smell of a coward’s piss is going to fill the streets,” you hissed, golden eyes narrowing with contemptuous fire.

Yennefer rounded your side, hands ablaze and eyes simmering with fury as she glared at the knights daringly. You nearly flinched away but something kept you rooted, a silent trust resonating within you.

“Let us purchase a mare and go,” she ordered, fists tightening beneath her rage. “Or we’ll kill you and then go make our purchase.”

They shared a single glance and your sword slid free of confines, meeting theirs in a swift parry…

-X-

Hooves beat against the dirt pathway, your horse matching Yennefer’s new mare’s pace comfortably. It would take about a day or so to voyage to Knotgrass Meadow, your first stop in the hunt for a living werewolf. Granted, living wasn’t entirely necessary but you found fresh saliva to be far more potent.

It was just harder to acquire.

Your clothes were dampened from the murky water, the blood having washed away with the river before your ride began. Three mangled bodies had been left in the streets of Oxenfurt, crimson smeared beneath boots and the scent of charred flesh lingering in the wind. The purchase of Galleon had been quick, the stable boy too terrified to do anything besides accept the coins shoved into his hands.

“What’s this talisman of yours for?” you inquired, breaking the hour long silence that had befallen you. “If it calls for such a powerful ingredient, I assume it’s no simple craft.”

Peering at the sorceress, you watched her struggle with an unspoken, internal battle. It was evident she preferred to keep things to herself, like a hand of Gwent cards, but you couldn’t help wanting to know more. You’d never been a curious one, even before your training at Kaer Morhen and yet…

She was becoming an enigma in your life.

“I’m searching for someone. I hope this talisman will help me find her,” she replied prudently, each word a calculated step.

Humming, you nodded. To be chasing something so precious and valuable, you couldn’t help wondering what she must mean to Yennefer. “She must be special if you’re going through all this trouble for her.”

“Truthfully, I have no idea,” Yennefer admitted, eyes trained on the path ahead. “I’ve never met her yet she often haunts my dreams. Calling out to me. Asking me to find her.”

Chuckling lecherously, you smirked. “I’ve known a few women like that before.”

She scoffed in disgust, kicking her foot at you playfully. “Not like that, you dog. She’s too young for such thoughts. I simply… want to find her and understand.”

You could see the tension in her shoulders, the uncertainty in her violet eyes. She was desperately searching for answers in a world that was not kind to people like her and yourself. She needed allies. Friends.

We will find this girl, you avowed, heart aching with something foreign as you remembered the ferocity in which Yennefer had fought – for you. I swear it.

#yennefer of vengerberg x reader #yennefer of vengerberg imagine #yennefer vengerberg #the witcher imagine #reader insert #reader imagine

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thewitchandtheassassin · 10 months

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The Witcher Masterlist

Yennefer of Vengerberg:

Series:

Fates Divine

One Shots:

Triss Merigold:

One Shots:

Tissaia:

One Shots:

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thewitchandtheassassin · 10 months

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Fates Divine Masterlist

Summary: What if Yennefer’s destiny wasn’t entwined with Geralt’s? What if another fate awaited her? And where does Princess Cirilla play into all this?

This will be a long series so buckle in. It’s gonna be a wild ride.

Prologue Part One Part Two Part Three

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thewitchandtheassassin · 10 months

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Fates Divine: Where it All Begins (Yennefer of Vengerberg x Reader)

Summary: What if Yennefer’s destiny wasn’t entwined with Geralt’s? What if another fate awaited her? And where does Princess Cirilla play into all this?

Words: 1183

Warnings: Witcher violence, AU (kinda?), language

A/N: This is the start of a new series I’m working on. The prologue of it, if you will. It will get longer from here but I thought a set up was in order.

If you want to be on this taglist, lemme know.

Series Masterlist

-X-

Gold eyes.

Unnerving, glistening, narrowed eyes were the first things Yennefer saw as she awoke with a start, clutching her aching breast with nimble, scab-ridden fingers. Tucked onto a hillside, shaded by the coloring leaves and away from the harsh view of both man and animal, there was nothing but stillness surrounding her.

“Witch,” you greeted gruffly, gaze flickering to her heaving, barely-covered chest before lifting upward again. “Glad to see you lived. That katakan nearly made you his next meal. Maybe don’t travel Oxenfurt or its roads at night for a while. Could still be plenty of the bastards roaming about.”

Yennefer blinked in surprise, back straightening as she finally took in the full sight of you. Bearing the obvious signs of a Witcher – stark white hair and cat-like eyes that sent most mortals reeling backwards – and the scars that tended to adorn your people, you weren’t quite what she’d imagined after hearing of a Witcher skulking about. The cocky twist of your smirk and the way your golden gaze lightened as she gaped left you almost youthful in appearance.

As though you hadn’t battled a thousand monsters; hadn’t saved a thousand souls (for coin, of course).

“Do you speak, witch?” you teased, biting the apple in your hand playfully. “Or did those fancy mages steal your manners in that big ole tower of yours?”

Yennefer glared, offended at such an implication, and it sent you into a fit of laughter. The apple in your grasp shifted, nearly crushed beneath the weight of your grip, so you simply tossed it to your lazing mare while you tried to calm your mirth.

“That is quite a rude assumption, you white-haired brute,” she scolded, though it held little fire as your amusement bled into her. “I was simply surprised to awake to such an…”

“Freak of nature? Mutant? Monster?”

She winced as your merriment drifted away with the flicker of flames, leaving behind what she’d come to expect from Witcher tales. The broody, cold demeanor and stoic expression – the face of a monster slayer bought entirely by the gold tucked in someone’s breeches.

“Well, you’re welcome. Consider this my one good deed for the year,” you huffed. “You can stay until daybreak. Wouldn’t want to have to save your ass twice in one night. Plus the blood from your oozing wound will only attract more trouble than its worth. Might even bring me the monster I was paid to vanquish.”

Yennefer’s brow furrowed. “I was not going to call you any of those names, Witcher. You are just an unfamiliar face to me. Though I can see why you would assume such hatefulness. I doubt the kind people of Oxenfurt have shown you much hospitality.”

“Humans,” you grunted disdainfully, gaze meeting the witch’s. “They fear the things they cannot possibly match up with.”

“I am Yennefer of Vengerberg. I believe I should thank you for saving my life.” She smiled softly at you, staring deep into your soul as thoughts swirled about your convoluted mind. She could see the obvious attraction, feel it buzzing across her skin the way it skirted about your own. Flashes of your rescue and subsequent healing flickered into view, the way your diligent fingers caressed her mangled flesh as you helped bind the weeping gashes.

You were certainly an interesting creature.

“(Y/N)… of Vizima.”

The hesitation was not missed but she did not dare to voice it.

“Well, it is lucky to have such a dashing savior,” Yennefer smiled shyly, deceptively innocent despite the things she’d been a part of, but you could see through it with ease. This woman was dangerous but you didn’t mind. Not really. “Though, I wonder. Could you help me with another task? With coin, of course.”

You thrived in danger.

“What do you need?” you murmured, the protective clothes you bore becoming uncomfortably sticky from perspiration, nerves alight from whatever this woman was doing to your sensibilities.

It was strange, to be so intimidated by someone so lithe and beautiful. You’d bedded plenty of elven women and humans alike, but this one witch…

“I’m in need of werewolf saliva. For a talisman. But few merchants stock such a rare item and who better to help me find it than a Witcher?”

Batting her eyes, she watched as your resolve crumbled slightly. The promise of coin was temptation enough but knowing this capable but injured witch would be searching for werewolves left you conflicted. If you were dumb enough to say no, then she could easily die.

And the world would be far uglier without her.

“You are planning to search for them whether I agree or not, aren’t you?” you inquired knowingly, chuckling at the mischievous uptick painting Yennefer’s lips.

“Is my coin good enough?” she asked in response, brushing past your question as though it’d never been spoken.

Smirking, you nodded. “All coin is good coin. We will begin our hunt at dawn. I’ve heard whispers of a town being plagued by the hairy beasts. We may start there.” Your gaze dropped to her bandaged chest, brows furrowing thoughtfully. “May need to clean your chest again. All types of nasty illnesses cling to vampires and the like.”

She ran her slender fingers along the parted neck of her dress, garnering your intense attention to the unmarked flesh glistening in the firelight, the tips of her digits grazing the pinking cloth.

“I have a few potions in my bag for such occasions. I am mostly aghast and embarrassed a vampire got the upper hand. You must think me a novice to earn such grave injuries.”

Leaning forward slightly, you caught her eye and shook your head. “I’ve been to every corner of this continent. Met creatures that nearly took my head from its place on my shoulders. I’ve seen novices and masters both killed without a thought. But you, Yennefer of Vengerberg, feel… powerful. As though I dare not underestimate what you could do in a moment’s time. I don’t know you, but I… feel you.”

Yennefer blinked slowly, taken aback by your confession and truthfully, you had no idea why those words befell your lips but there was no taking them back. You would not make yourself a liar.

“Let us sleep,” she whispered breathlessly. “I doubt this will be an easy task and at least one of us should be fully rested and healthy.”

Nodding, you glanced at your bedroll before peering behind Yennefer with a frown.

“Take my roll,” you offered as you stood, though it sounded more of a command. “You do not wish to agitate your wounds more than they already are.”

Lips parting, prepared to argue, Yennefer paused at the stern determination staring back at her. Handing her the blanket sitting atop your haphazardly crafted bed, you gestured at the bedroll before settling against the toppled log near the top of the roll. Arms crossed, your eyes closed and head lolled backwards as you listened.

“Damn Witcher,” she mumbled, crawling into the bedroll and tucking the warm, albeit worn, blanket around her shivering form. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled.”

#yennefer of vengerberg x reader #yennefer of vengerberg imagine #the witcher imagine #reader insert #reader imagine #yennefer vengerberg

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thewitchandtheassassin · 10 months

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So...

If I said I had a Yennefer from the Witcher series started, would there be any interest...?

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thewitchandtheassassin · 10 months

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Kabob (Kate Bishop x Reader)

Summary: Being realistic is not Kate’s forte.

Words: 370

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of toys, strap ons.

A/N: This is based entirely off of a ridiculous conversation my girlfriend and I had.

No taglist on this because who knows if I’ll do a drabble night tonight with this or not.

-X-

Stepping into the quaint shop you’d passed a handful of times since you’d moved to New York, your face remained deceptively impassive as your girlfriend paused in the doorway, body tense with cautious anticipation. You squeezed her hand, both a gentle prod forward and in hopes of soothing her nerves.

She wandered further into the abode, leading you with soft tugs and thoughtful hums as you explored the shelves and aisles, smirking with little gasps of surprise every once in a while. You could feel the occasional stare of other patrons as you meandered past, obviously startled at the sight of two Avengers but you paid them little heed.

Pausing in front of the section you’d intended to peruse, Kate’s fingers clenched around yours excitedly. Keeping quiet, silently vetoing items as Kate’s free hand brushed over them, you nearly swallowed your tongue as she lingered above an absolute “no”.

Not just no, but hell no.

“What about this one?” she squeaked, dark eyes wide and innocent as she stared at you. “It’s long, because, y’know, obviously length is important and it’s pretty thick. Oh! And it vibrates! That would have to feel good, right? I mean…”

Hooking your thumb below her chin, you softly shook your head and pressed a mild peck to her mouth, halting her never-ending stream of babbles.

“My love,” you mumbled, tugging back slightly. “You’re insane if you think your body can handle that. Halfway in and you’d feel it in your throat.”

Her cheeks went hot with embarrassment, but you simply smiled and kissed the side of her head.

“I have no intentions of rearranging your guts or stabbing vital organs. Bigger isn’t better, in this particular case.” Winking playfully, you dragged her back towards the realistically sized toys. “Quality over quantity, baby.”

Kate giggled timidly, burying her face in the side of your neck. “Thank God. That thing was terrifying. I’m pretty sure it’d puncture something. I’d be a kabob.”

“You’d be dead. And trust me, I don’t want to explain to Yelena how I managed to kill her best friend with my new dick. I’m fairly certain she’d find a creative way to murder me with it… and not in a fun way.”

#kate bishop imagine #kate bishop x reader #the avengers imagine #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #MCU fanfiction #reader insert #hawkeye imagine

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thewitchandtheassassin · 11 months

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Choices, Choices (Maria Hill x Reader)

Summary: Part 2 of Kiss or Kill

Words: 923

Warnings: Language, violence?

Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife17 @red1culous @aaron-despair @username23345 @xjiasx @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @imnotasuperhero @miscmarvelwritings @captain-josslett @onlyafewfindtheway @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @evilcr0ne @everything201197

-X-

Maria’s grasp on the grip of her sidearm was firm, knuckles nearly white with tension as she crept through the uncomfortably silent HYDRA base. They’d received intel that it was teeming with scientists and soldiers alike in another pathetic attempt to recreate the beauty of the Super Soldier serum but she hadn’t seen another soul since infiltrating the base.

At this rate, she was beginning to wonder how accurate their information truly was.

Nearing what was supposedly central command, she inhaled deeply. She’d been off for weeks, ever since you’d pinned her to that damned wall and kissed her like lives depended on it. And maybe they had. If she’d been caught by some of those monsters roaming about, she would’ve been killed on the spot – or worse.

But now she couldn’t get it out of her fucking head.

She’d hoped this would redeem her dry spell but it seemed she would be leaving here empty-handed as well. As she stepped to the door keeping her from command, she paused as a cheerful whistle met her ears. It sounded oddly familiar and her heart dropped into the pit of her belly.

There’s no way.

Shoving it open with reckless abandon, Maria was baffled and furious simultaneously at the sight of your grinning countenance. A slew of motionless bodies were littering the floor, most of their chests still visibly rising despite the vague appearance of lifelessness. You were leaning against the edge of a desk, ankles crossed as you languished against it nonchalantly.

“Why, hello, agent,” you purred, gleefully clicking your tongue. “I wondered how long it’d take you to get here. I was starting to worry you’d dismissed my helpful tipoff.”

“I- you-” Maria sputtered, brows furrowing with frustration. “That’s not possible. Agent Romanoff…”

“Followed a clue I left for her. And then subsequently found all the others I just so happen to leave out in plain view for any halfway intelligent agent to put together. Really, your people should never assume it’s that easy to uncover things. I understand most of HYDRA is run by morons but there were far too many coincidences involved here,” you replied patronizingly, smirking at the fuming brunette. “Aw, there’s no need for such dramatics, you sweet little mouse. You simply stumbled into this cat’s trap thanks to a deadly widow. You are the Jerry to my Tom, if you will.”

Shoving away from the desk, your expression grew somber as you stood before Maria.

“I asked you here for a reason,” you admitted, all the teasing gone from your words. “Your appearance at the party has painted quite a target on your back. The heads of a few ugly organizations have put a price on your head and if you continue chasing down this path, they will call for the hit.”

“I can handle myself,” she contended, her glare faltering under the concern shining brightly back at her. “SHIELD –”

“Cannot protect you,” you muttered solemnly. “Your life is contracted. They will hire only the best and they will buy or murder the people closest to you. You may not fear them now but you should.”

Hesitating, Maria studied the tightness of your features, the tension of your form as your eyes darted about attentively. “(Y/N)...”

“I am a pawn in many games,” you shrugged, unbothered by the notion of being caught in the webs of horrible men and women alike. “Until I am no longer of use, they will keep me on the board at the cost of any lives they deem inconsequential. Nothing about my life is as black and white as your organization believes it is. Their house of cards must fall, but I will be the one pulling it. So stay out of my way.”

“I can’t let you keep hurting people,” Maria argued weakly. “People will die.”

Cupping her cheeks firmly, your look was fierce and blatantly terrified as you stared at the stunned woman helplessly. “You will die, Maria! And I won’t fucking let that happen. Please, stay away from this.”

You let one hand fall to her waist as you dragged her close, mouth harsh and unforgiving against hers though she returned the embrace with similar fire as her shock dissipated into something deeper. Something she couldn’t deny.

If you were anything in this world and in this lifetime, you were selfish. You always had been. You would sacrifice the things that didn’t matter to you to keep those you did care about safe without hesitation or thought. The world itself could burn as long as your world remained.

And you would not let her gamble her life for others. Not when she meant so much to you.

Tugging a syringe from your pocket, your eyes fell open as you pulled back, forehead resting against hers. Panted breaths passed between you, Maria’s eyes soft and trusting.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, wetness pooling in your waterline as you jabbed the needle into the side of her neck and pressing the plunger, wincing at her gasp of betrayal and pain, watching the light of consciousness fade from her crystal eyes. “I know you won’t let this go. But you have to.”

Catching her sagging body, tears dripped down your cheeks as she went limp in your arms. You held her tight, lifting her with ease and hurrying from the command center.

“When it’s all over, I’ll make this right. I promise,” you pledged, kissing the crown of her head. “You may hate me, but you’ll be safe. That’s all that matters.”

#maria hill imagine #maria hill x reader #maria hill #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #MCU fic #reader insert #avengers imagine #the avengers imagine #marvel cinematic universe

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