Can u write for GWAYNE HIGHTOWER...like I'm kicking my feets only by his few seconds of appearance of hotd S3 ep 1. THE MAN LOOKED SOOO A ANGEL LOST IN THE FOREST
The only idea for Gwayne I have bouncing around in my head right now is this one;
Dragonrider!reader from team black who fights at the Battle of Rook's Rest, only to be attacked and brought down to the ground by a well-aimed catapult. Criston sees value in taking her as hostage to leverage against Rhaenyra at the right time, and so she's become their prisoner. Criston, in his apathetic state, has no care for the girl and Gwayne finds himself taking care of the girl.
She's so anti-teamgreen, and yet Gwayne is so kind and truly gentle with her. He's charming, witty and cracking small jokes that make her laugh, even in such a dire situation. He protects her in the camps, having her sleep in a cot in his tent to avoid the leering eyes of the soldiers outside. He offers to visit the nearest body of water to allow her to bathe, guarding her as she meekly strips down. He's her saviour in this whole hellish situation, and she doesn't know whether it's some sort of Stockholm syndrome or genuine affection but she finds herself seeking him out, clinging to Gwayne's side as much as possible, even sharing his horse as the camp rides through the Crownlands.
It gets to a point where dragonrider!reader worries what will happen when her family finally attempt to take her back... because she knows it means leaving Gwayne behind.
I’m begging you to write a part 2 of your Raymun kingsguard fic or just another smutty Raymun fic
Candlelight Secrets
includes ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 kingsguard!raymun fossoway x targaryen!fem!reader
summary: a bored targaryen princess is a dangerous one; needing some attention, you seek out your loyal kingsguard in his own chambers for the first time.
tags: pre-established relationship; smut; p! in v!; switchy behaviors; ends with some fluff;
cw: nsfw 18+ mdni
NOTE: YES YES YES YES YES i cannot get enough of this guy; i just think he’s so cutesy; hope you enjoy :)
The lower levels of the Red Keep are a cobblestone maze. The hallways are small, so small that they barely fit two people moving side by side. You are forced to bow your head when you pass someone by in hopes that they would not identify you. Navigating the halls, you worry if your disguise is good enough, wishing that it successfully dissuades onlookers from taking a second glance at you.
This morning you had excitedly asked your handmaiden for a favor; to borrow her clothing just for a night so you could sneak out of your chambers unassumingly. She was unsure at first, warning you that it would not be wise. You of course convinced her in the end, explaining how you just wanted a night of freedom, promising her that if you happened to be caught you would admit to stealing the clothing yourself.
Which brings you to where you are now, walking through a terrain unknown to you with only a candlelight leading your way. You did not think much of a plan on finding Raymun’s chambers beforehand and now you regret your underestimation of the task. Earlier, you briefly asked your handmaiden for some guidance on what was held within the lower levels of the keep, but you did not ask too much in fear of starting a rumor.
You make your way to where you believe the kingsguard are housed, ducking away and hiding when you heard footsteps approaching. Remaining stealthed, you finally find the area you were looking for without being caught. Looking at the many doors, a glint of white silver catches your attention.
Down the hall a pair of greaves and boots are left outside a door. Investigating them closer, you feel as if they must belong to Raymun.
You inch closer to the door and blow out your candlelight. A dim light radiates from beneath the wooden door. Feeling bold, you reach for the door to open it a sliver, hoping to find who you’re looking for. Inside the chamber is in fact Raymun, who is occupying the incredibly small room.
Raymun’s room is surprisingly modest; it is smaller than one of your closets and has far less belongings in it than that said closet. His back is turned from you and he is distracted with undoing the fastens of his armor.
Your heart jumps in your chest and your face starts to feel hot. This is the perfect opportunity to surprise him, just as you planned.
Opening the door further, you would have inched into the room silently if it wasn’t for the creaking of the metal hinges of the door. The sound drawing his attention immediately. Raymun stops his movements and expectantly turns towards the door, jumping slightly at your appearance in his quarters.
Despite your disguise that you spent so much time on, he recognizes you immediately. You are wearing the clothes of a servant girl and your hair is hidden beneath a scarf. Raymun is taken aback by your simple appearance, never expecting to see such a thing. You’re beautiful, and seeing you this way only intensifies his thoughts of taking you from the Keep to start a normal life.
His gaze towards you is first one of confusion, but then it quickly turns stern.
“Princess? Is everything alright?” He says hesitantly, still not understanding why you have appeared before him in such a manner.
~~
Raymun slides the length of himself in slowly, savoring the feel of every velvet inch inside you as he pushes forward.
You have been placed onto his cot which is not even a quarter of the size of your own. Your borrowed clothes have been removed alongside with Raymun’s, finding a home next to his armor on the floor.
His face is in the crook of your neck and you feel his breath hitch; you take him so nicely and it distracts him from continuing to kiss at your neck, deciding to instead breathe in the flowery scent of your hair. Savoring the moment.
He bottoms out and you feel full, moaning a low sound and grabbing at his arms you wait for his next move impatiently. It feels good, so good you cannot think or speak as your hips and thighs twitch in anticipation.
The two of you must be quiet. You’re too fond of the boy for him to be executed.
As full as you are, you think that’s as far as he can go but Raymun continues to press his cock forward. Pulling your hips impossibly closer to his, he pushes in deeper than you think is possible. His length pressing dangerously into your cervix. The pressure is so alien to you that it stops you from breathing. You choke out a moan out and Raymun lets out a breathy laugh; he’s ecstatic.
“This is what you wanted princess?” Raymun breathes out into you ear. He moves one his hands from your hip to snake it up your torso and in between your breasts to cradle your neck and jaw. His grip teases at your jaw as if he’s moments away from grabbing it harshly, but he doesn’t.
“You wanted your sworn protector to take care of you, yeah?” Raymun kisses at your neck again and moves to meet your lips together, panting into your mouth. He starts to roll his hips slowly into yours, barely leaving an inch before thrusting back in again. You whimper, biting your lip to stay silent.
“You wanted me to fuck you, no one else- Tell me.” He speaks into your mouth while holding onto your jaw, his other hand still tightly holding at your hip. You instead let out a giggle before gasping at a deliciously timed thrust, finding him so humorously desperate when he’s inside you.
“Oh, my poor kingsguard- have you been neglected.” You coo at him and grab at his hair, encouraging his movements by moving your hips in tandem.
Oh how he cannot get enough of you, he feels like he needs to retaliate, to bite at you, but he doesn’t. You have him on a tight leash and he knows he cannot leave a mark on you. He growls instead, continuing to thrust into you.
Suddenly you push him off of you and to the side with a surprising force. With his back now on the bed you swiftly climb on top of him and place him back inside you before he can protest. You lean back and use his muscular thighs as support to slide down his length slowly, angling yourself so he perfectly hits the sweet spot within you as you move your hips up and down. He whimpers at the new position, holding back his own moans that threaten to spill out.
“You forget your place, Ser Raymun…” You whisper firmly while looking down into his pathetic eyes, which are desperately trying to stay open through the pleasure. You reach one hand out to grab at his chestnut locks again, pulling him up to be closer to you.
“You’re mine. Raymun. Not the other way around.” You remind him before kissing him, tongue and teeth clashing into each other.
You feel him twitch inside of you. He won’t last long like this, both of you know that yet neither of you slow down, especially as you feel your own ecstasy coming to its peak the more you continue your ministrations.
As your pleasure builds you start to slow down, movements turning sluggish. Raymun picks up the pace by thrusting upwards, bouncing you on top of him. His hand moves to your bundle of nerves and presses down firmly, his other quickly cupping over your mouth as you let a particularly loud moan that echos in Raymun’s chambers.
“Not too loud now, princess.” He warns as he starts to slowly rub his thumb in circles. The feeling from it is so vulgar and intense that you can do nothing else but let out muffled whines into your kingsguard’s hand.
“Cum for me.” He speaks your name with authority, like he’s giving you an order you must obey; your body listens. The tightening within your stomach snaps and you feel yourself start to shake. A wet, lovely feeling gushing from between your legs and onto Raymun’s thighs below you.
Raymun bites his lip and his thrusts start to become inconsistent. He pushes in deep one last time before pulling himself from you, spilling all over your stomach and hip.
Breathing heavily, Raymun finally removes his hand over your mouth and lightly taps at your cheek for your attention; his other hand supporting you from collapsing on top of him.
In your haze you look towards him, he is a sweaty mess, just as you are. His hair is disheveled and you find that it frames his face oddly but in a way that still suits him. As you look him over, Raymun’s face breaks out in his usual annoying, smug grin.
“You came all this way just for me, huh princess?” He questions humorously, his hand moving to push hair away from your face, then moving to cradle the side of your face lovingly.
Looking into his sweet brown eyes you can’t help but giggle in response and scrunch up your face at him, flopping down next to him in his cot. He lets out a laugh himself, moving to lay next to you comfortably.
“You’re impossible princess.” He whispers to you, his head now facing closely with yours as you let your limbs tangle together.
“I know.” You whisper back fondly as you lace your hands into his.
You need to leave. You have been gone long enough and you are sure your noises may have attracted some attention outside his chambers but in this moment of lying next to Raymun, you feel a warmth in your chest that you cannot find anywhere else in the Keep. In his presence, you feel comfortable, safe, and seen.
A ghost of a shiver rolls over your naked body and Raymun moves to cover you within the sheets. His bedding is made of a rough cotton both scratchy and worn. You would never even touch a hand towel with such low quality, yet sharing these sheets with Raymun gives you a fonder perspective of the experience. Moments with Raymun are exhilarating and fun because your encounters are shrouded in secrecy but you are also finding that the simplicity in his nature draws you in closer like a moth to a flame; “normalcy” being a concept you can never truly grasp being a princess of the realm.
You allow yourself a moment to forget being a princess, to forget the importance of hiding your relations with your kingsguard and choose to lay with Raymun a little longer than you should. You share stories and ideas under candlelight, finding humor in little things and sadness in others. You find that the more time you spend together like this, the more your relationship grows from being an exciting fling to something scarier and deeper, something neither of you can have.
imagine: you are a noble woman from a significant house, after a series of unfortunate events you find yourself in the tourney camps covered in blood, catching the eye of one of your admirers.
Baelor
Seeing you walk through the pavilion lanes covered in blood, Baelor finds himself concerned at first, but then intrigued the closer he gets to you.
With the impending doom of his kingship upon him, Baelor finds himself sitting with your father within the royal pavilion open to the tourney grounds.
To become a king, Baelor finds himself in need of a queen. So, Baelor sought your father out, inviting him to speak over mulled wine and fruit.
Spending quite some delicate time in deciding who to take as his second wife, Baelor found himself interested in forging an alliance with your house. His curiosity growing deeper when he first saw you from afar at the tourney.
Laughing into his glass, your father gleefully starts to tell Baelor a joke but instead chokes on the sweet liquid, eyes settling onto something in the distance. Following your fathers gaze, Baelor eyes quickly find you in the distance, walking through the dirt pathways with your hands behind your back. With your head held high, you briskly make your way through the crowd while covered in blood. The dark red substance is speckled on your face and hair but entirely covers your neck and shoulders, staining into your pretty silk dress.
“By the gods, my- my daughter.” You father stumbles out of his seat and quickly makes his way towards you.
Baelor follows, ushering the kings guard with him. With great concern, the dragon reaches you almost faster than your father, taking almost three steps in each stride.
“My daughter! What ever happened to you? Where is your sworn shield-“ your father exclaims with grief, placing his hands around your form as if you would break upon any touch.
“My Lady, are you alright? Did someone do this to you?” Baelor says more seriously than your father, bringing a calmer demeanor to the situation at hand while looking you over with concern.
Having never spoken to the Prince—or any Prince —until now, you find yourself lost in the true emotion expressed through his gaze. The stark colors of his eyes distract you, one green and the other almost black in color, and you find yourself struggling with your words under his commanding presence.
“Your grace- father, I apologize for the concern.” Steadying yourself, you quickly bow in the Prince’s presence. Rising, you regain your composure.
“Please do not apologize to me my lady-” Baelor takes a few steps closer, taking in your appearance. Your beauty distracts him for a moment, preventing him from properly assessing your figure for any wounds. This is not how he thought the first meeting with you would go and he hates the thoughts of harm that come to his mind that could have been brought against you.
Seeing that this was becoming more and more embarrassing for you the longer your father and the Prince of the Realm question you in front of the gathering masses, you decide to tell them the truth.
“I promise I am not hurt despite the gruesome sight I must be.” You say quickly. Turning backwards, you look for your sworn shield, who has finally caught up with you. Behind him, he drags a boar through the mud.
“Father, your grace, I happened to take my stroll too far into the woods and found myself being attacked by this horrible beast.” You say while fiddling with your fingers, a nasty habit your father has tried to prevent you from continuing. Your sworn shield grunts in agreeance as he drops the body of the fat beast at the feet of your father, presenting it.
“The blood is not of my blood.” You confirm while grimacing at the ugly, dead hog, remembering it charging towards you just moments before.
Noticing your nervousness, Baelor brings an open palm towards your anxious fingers, offering them to you.
“My lady, are you sure you are not injured? I will bring a maester to check for wounds your not aware of.” He speaks softly, but his tone is commanding. You see Baelor nod towards a kings guard, which prompts the man to leave towards the keeper. When Baelor’s eyes connect with yours again, they do not stray again.Not believing you can convince him otherwise, you let your nervous hands fall into his and agree.
His hands are warm, comforting, and much larger than your own. You glance towards your father who looks like he is experiencing all emotions at once, nodding to him you let Baelor lead you to the keep, where the royal family is residing for the tourney.
Walking past the crowd that gathered around you, Baelor’s hand remains strong and steady in yours and he cannot help but think to himself that he might not want to let go when you reach the Maester.
Ser Dunken the Tall
Our poor, poor, traumatized Dunk. Seeing you walk through camp covered in blood sends him into an immediate and immense panic.
Dunk first sees you on the training grounds of the tourney square. His tall frame allowing him to see over the crowds. The sunlight cascading around you beautifully as if the gods were highlighting your presence to him. Even without it, he has no doubt that you would have caught his eye anyways. You are a lady, dressed in a pretty gown too, one far too nice for the mud yet you stand in it unbothered.
You are speaking with a man donning armor, one that Dunk hopefully assumes is your brother as he is wearing the same colors as you.
As Dunk starts to think to himself of how to describe your hair color, a smaller body runs into his legs.
“What is it Ser Dunken?” Egg questions from below, clinging onto the hedge knight’s cloak as they navigate through the crowd. Knowing that it would be impossible for the boy to see that he was detracted by a beautiful lady, Dunk blushes and simply continues on.
“It’s nothing boy, just seeing where we’re going.” Dunk stutters out while shaking the thoughts of you out of his head, making sure to avoid Egg’s investigative gaze afterwards.
He doesn’t interact with you despite seeing you for the next couple of days. How could he? He’s a simple hedge knight with no armor. That doesn’t stop him from continuing to admire you from afar. You’re kind, helpful, and have the most beautiful laugh he’s ever heard. The sound traveling gracefully through the wind, blessing his ear every once in a while. Dunk is completely and utterly smitten with you.
Dunk finally gets the chance to meet you one fateful morning. The sun rises and fog permeates through the grounds after a night of rain. Dunk and his squire rising early in the hopes of entering the lists. Egg and him catch you entering the outskirts of the tourney, stumbling through the thicket. The sight of you being in their camp is so unexpected that Dunk has to do a double take to make sure it’s really you through the brush; there’s no world where you would be near them.
“My lady—“ Dunk clears his throat, straightening to his full height. Just then, and deeper, more commanding voice erupts from the trees behind you.
“My lady you must return at once!”
“I will not!” You yell in return, continuing to traverse through the rough terrain. Your silk slippers completely soaked through, making it hard to make sure footing. You’re shivering, completely soaked in water and… blood.
You sob, the sound alerting Dunk on a subconscious level.
He reacts quicker than his mind can think. Dunk rushes over to you, dropping the various camp items in his hands.
You’re covered in the red liquid head to toe; the blood soaking your beautiful features. Images of Rafe and Tanselle flash painfully in his thoughts as he looks you over.
Tears and blood stain your face and you are using your arms to comfort yourself. You look up to him and jump, the action paining Dunk slightly. He doesn’t want you to be fearful of him.
You recognize the large man, mostly because it’s hard not to. Most of the tourney knows the hedge knight, despite his rather simple disposition. He’s more boyish than you thought he’d be because he seemed so intimidating from afar.
Before you can speak, the man trailing you yells out again, he is closing in on you.
“My lady! With haste—“
Dunk reaches for his blade quicker than the man can enter the clearing behind you. The man being your sworn protector, not that Dunk knows that.
You were angry, so angry. You had gotten into a fight with your father the night before. Your father and you argued. You were not proud of the things you said but you believed it was just. You took off into the night, not even grabbing a cloak before taking a horse.
This of course, was the beginning of your misfortune. The horse was not your beloved horse, but a simple draft horse brought specifically for the tournament. The bond was not there, and when rain started pouring from the dark skies, the path became uncertain. You fell, the horse took off, and you were lost in an unfamiliar territory.
By break of dawn you finally found yourself on a hill overlooking the tourney grounds, the tents being a welcoming sight. Distracted you did not notice the boar occupying the same space. The boar attacked as it was offended of your very presence. After being pushed to the ground and to the quite a bit of wrestling, you felt a spray of liquid pour on top of you. A splash of red consuming you. Your sworn protector.
And now you’re here, childishly stomping your way back to your tent, avoiding your sworn protector who saved you just because you’re even more furious about the conversation with your father after what you have dealt with.
Ser Dunken has placed you behind him, one arm pointing his long sword towards the “threat,” and the other protectively bracing you.
“I swear to you if you have harmed this woman—“Dunk states loudly, looking over your sworn protector’s stance. The man wears proper armor, this will be no easy fight.
“I have not! Stand down, hedge knight.” Your guard spits out, taking offense at the accusation, but the blood covering him does little to aid his defense in Dunk’s opinion.
You have half a mind to indulge in the accusation just because of your anger towards the situation. Looking over the hedge knight’s large frame, your eyes linger on the definition of his muscles underneath his tunic for far too long. You admire his courage, his strong sense of honor. You are sure this simple knight would easily behead your guard if this continues.
Again, your thoughts keep you from responding before others take the chance.
“Ser!” A young boy suddenly appears at his side, bald as a newborn with a height barely reaching the tops of the large man’s thighs. You have seen him as well, the pair contrasting each other quite a lot.
The boy starts tugging at the man’s cloak to get his attention to no avail. Though, he does manage to grab yours.
The small boy is inquisitive, so much so that his stare doesn’t falter when you meet his eyes. The boy doesn’t look away like other young common folk; his gaze becoming more focused when your attention is on him. The boy clearly having no issue imposing himself in conflict, even conflicts involving those above his stature.
“Ser!” He tugs harder, now dropping his weight to the ground as if that would stop the mountain of a man from continuing forward.
“Get off of me boy! Have you lost your mind!” Ser Dunken exclaims while pushing the boy off his cloak. Eyes briefly moving away from your sworn protector to give the boy an exacerbated look. Why on earth would the boy be stopping him? At all times, now?
“Ser Dunken! The Lady is not injured!” The boy yells as he fails into the mud below.
That finally moves the hedge knight’s attention away from your so called assailant. Dunk finally stops to turn and look at you again. It pains him, and he forces himself to look you over again despite it bringing bile to his throat.
Looking at you, he notices the emotion in your eyes. “Is it true, my lady? Did this man hurt you?”
“No.” You stutter, you cannot remember the last time someone has shown this much care towards you.
“He is meant to be by my side, Ser Dunken” You confirm, realizing he needs it.
Suddenly Dunk is dropping to one knee, pleading with you seriously.
“My lady- I’m sorry, please forgive me. I saw the state you were in and couldn’t bear the thought of what could have happened here.” Dunk pleads with you, embarrassed of the fear he still feels in his chest.
You almost laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“Ser Dunken, correct?” You muse.
“Yes my lady—“ he says, now avoiding your eyes.
“Ser Dunken the Tall, my lady.” The small boy corrects with a smirk.
“Ser Dunken the Tall, I thank you for your willingness to come to my aid, even if it wasn’t truly necessary.” You say truthfully. You have heard of his heroics, and now you see that they must be true.
Your sworn protector walks closer now, urging you to continue further into the camps to get back to where you belong.
There’s no further words between the hedge knight and you, but you both take a moment to fully look at one another as your guard starts to lead you away.
Sparing you one last longing glance before you move out of sight, Dunk thanks whatever gods are listening that you are actually okay.
Aerion
Aerion finds himself grinning at the sight before he even processes that it is you that is covered in blood.
It is nighttime and the tourney festivities are at an all time high as all the larger houses of Westeros gather at the royal feast hosted by the Targaryens. Candles and hearths light up tables and the dance floor alike. The occupants becoming more boisterous and unforgiving the more wine is consumed.
Despite the contagious merriment, Aerion is practically pouting in his seat next to his father at the head table. He slouches over his plate of rare meat, poking at it. Maekar gives Aerion a quick glance before scoffing out a laugh and rolling his eyes away. This is Aerion’s punishment, for what, Aerion cannot remember. Truthfully, he doesn’t really care. Nevertheless, Aerion’s father has made it very clear that he must stay at his side the entire night.
Looking out into the crowd in boredom, Aerion looks to your house banners. Scanning his eyes over the table, he doesn’t find what he is looking for. You.
He first noticed you during the tournament after besting your brother in a joust; your brother finding himself lucky that Aerion failed to do as much damage as he was planning when he succeeded in unmounting your brother off his horse.
After your brother conceded, Aerion looked up to your family in hopes to see horrified faces, yet he only saw stoic, dissatisfied faces. Except for you, who seemed to be the only one in your family to openly express some kind of emotion. Aerion was drawn to you because of your concern, but what truly grabbed his attention was your gaze turning to him in anger. Your eyes never faltering as he left the arena. You were furious, and it oh so amused Aerion.
But now he can’t find you, and he’s started to imagine that you’re absence is on purpose. It would be a slight against the royal house if that is true, one that he cannot let go ignored. With no other opportunities of entertainment, Aerion truly feels his father’s punishment take effect.
Your family continues to be rather lively in your absence, but he notices some concerned and confused faces the longer he watches. Something must be happening, and it must be something about you. Aerion doubts that your family has anything else as interesting to talk about.
Suddenly it is as if the air changes, your family starts acting strange, speaking to one another as if they need to fix something. Aerion has seen this look before, especially when he terrorizes people for fun.
Just as he grows more curious, the very woman that consumes his thoughts makes an appearance without his knowledge.
Suddenly there are confused screams and gasps of women and the gawping of men. Silence taking over the party. Aerion leaned forward in interest, thanking the gods for some real entertainment. His father and uncle standing at attention.
You waltz into the scene. A dark red substance covering your neck and shoulders, framing your face perfectly. Blood, and a lot of it, and you just walk into the festival as if this is completely normal. Aerion finds you absolutely divine, the flames of the hearth framing your features as you walk. The Targaryens, while not openly, still have some regards to the old gods; Aerion taking this a a sign from the old gods that you are being directly presented to him.
You feel Aerion’s gaze, hotter than that of your family’s, forcing you to meet it. You feel like prey, as if you are hunted yet again.
What a poor thing, he muses to himself. Even from his elevated seat he can see your limbs still trembling, yet your face remains stoic. Oh how he loves the ones who act brave in the face of terror. He finds himself wondering what could have possibly befallen you.
He sees you speak softly but firmly to your father, whose face turns from concern into laughter. Even Aerion is surprised. Things just keep getting more interesting. Just then, a man in armor, also covered in blood, presents your father with a slain boar. It is then that Aerion connects the clues he has been given, you have been attacked.
Your father laughs and loudly boasts that his daughter had shown more gile than his son today and as quickly as you made a spectacle, the interest the masses had towards your bloody state subsides.
It is that moment that Aerion’s attention towards you grows into something darker, more possessive. The fact that the crowd so easily moved on from the spectacle you brought bothered him on a level he doesn’t understand.
Obsession takes seed in his heart. Aerion finds himself quite fond of the idea of you draped in the deep scarlet red of his house colors. He finds an even deeper joy when your eyes connect with his again, hoping that you see the clear signs connecting you both just as much as he does.
Daeron
Daeron finds himself petrified when he witnesses you enter camp covered in blood.
Haunted by his dreams, Daeron finds himself nursing a rather large bottle of ale behind the great Baratheon Pavillion within the tourney grounds to distract him from sleep.
Daeron feels quite pathetic in this moment. With his limbs becoming more useless the more he drinks, Daeron falls deeper into the mud beneath him. Halfway leaning against a barrel, the muddy puddles of the earth below him soak into his clothes uncomfortably.
Daeron stares upward into the night sky, his vision blurry as he starts to imagine pictures hidden within the clouds above. The sky above him is dark and brooding. The winds start to pick up around him and droplets of water start to piddle down from the heavens. The cool spray of it feeling divine on his hot skin.
The party inside the tent behind Daeron does not falter as the storm blooms in the sky. And, it is as if The Laughing Storm himself is urging the storm to quicken as he drunkenly starts chanting some bard’s song popular in Storm’s End.
As the laughs of the Baratheon lord bellow into the night, the sky responds with thunder.
Focusing on the sounds around him, Daeron takes a breath. Suddenly, he hears a snap followed by a thud from the treeline in front of him. Drawing his attention, Daeron tries to fix his posture so he isn’t so vulnerable to whatever—or whoever—is approaching his direction.
Waiting a moment, the sounds continue but nothing emerges. Daeron hears footsteps struggling to find footing, branches being swatted and snapped, and soft cursing. And while his first thought is that the sound must be coming from some poor sod that fell asleep relieving himself who is now drunkenly finding his way back to the lively yellow pavilion, but your quiet curses and grunts of disdain distract him.
Daeron realizes that whoever this is, they must be a woman.
Stumbling out of the brush you fall to your knees unceremoniously, catching yourself with your hands before colliding with the ground. Blood trails down your arms and you cough like being out in the open air is helping you breath again. Glancing up, you meet the bewildered face of Daeron Targaryen.
Daeron feels as if you stole his very breath and he is stuck staring at you in shock. Your head is completely covered in blood, leaving little room to see your true features beneath it. A silver blade covered in the same red color fell with you to the ground, the glint of the metal winking at Daeron as he tries to decipher if you are real or just another apparition.
A woman and a murderer, Daeron decides in his drunken haze; and very real. He questions if this will be his end, taken out by the blade of a crazed and beautiful woodland woman. Clearly he wouldn’t be your first kill of the night with how you look.
In your current predicament, you both cannot help but stare at each other blankly. Sobering slightly from fear, Daeron recognizes from the style and color of your dress that you could be a woman of noble birth.
“My lady?” He questions clearing his throat. Noticing that perhaps you are not a murderer, Daeron sits up and tries to fix his posture. He supposes that this is a time more than ever for some royal confidence to appear.
“Do you need help my lady? Has someone attacked you?” His voice slurs out, revealing immediately how much he has drunk tonight.
In this moment, Daeron truly hopes you do not have an assailant bounding after you. Not really for your sake but his own; he is in no condition to protect your honor, not that he ever would be even if sober.
Coughing, you sit up on your knees and push your hair out of your face. As if you can read his mind, you force out a laugh. The look Daeron is giving you is priceless, and it makes you wonder just how bad you look in this moment. He continues to stare at you as you laugh in his face. You try and wipe off the blood on your face to no avail, deciding instead to try and stand up on your weak legs.
“Be careful- your grace, there are…dangerous…beasts about.” you speak out of breath, now looking down towards the drunken prince. Wiping the away the mess on your gown as best as you can you meet Daeron’s gaze again, who is practically holding his bottle of ale in front of him as a form of protection.
You walk away before Daeron can react.
Watching your form leave his sight, he can’t help but groan to himself. He questions why is his life is constantly filled with such strange events and why he can never seem to do anything about it. In his pity, his eyes meet the top of the bottle in his hands and he takes a large, sorrowful swig. He should have said something to you, he now thinks. Tried to help you, like a good man would. Looking around his surroundings again a flash of light catches his eye. The dagger, your dagger.
Reaching for it, the blade falls heavy into his hands. It is a fine piece of metal, one made to be seen more than used. Investigating closer, he sees that there is a house sigil imprinted into the blade. Glancing over to where you previously took your leave, Daeron feels a determination that he has never felt before.
He will find you again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did, part two is in the works.
includes ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 kingsguard!raymun fossoway x targaryen!fem!reader
warnings: nsfw below the cut, language, targaryen reader but no further physical description, mentions of targest, obsessive/possessive behavior, this man really hates the targs.
cw: mdni 18+ content
NOTE: I got a little—okay a lot—carried away… enjoy!
Ser Raymun Fossoway, a knight of House Fossoway of Cider Hall, who in competing in a tourney hosted in The Reach, managed to defeat three lords of higher status than himself, including your prince cousin Aerion Brightflame.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who feels a sudden, odd sensation roll over his chest seeing you, the princess of the realm, practically falling off the railing of the royal gallery to get a chance to see his face after knocking Aerion down from his horse. He hates the Targaryens, the inscestous aliens that plague his homeland. Detests the lot of them, detests you. Yet, Ser Raymun finds himself taking his helm off in your presence. Looking above him, you’re still standing at the railing in anticipation. Once his eyes finally connect with yours, he sees a familiar intoxicating sight; ambition. The screaming of Aerion echos behind him, ending the moment between you two.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who is surprised to receive a letter months later that the Princess herself had been very insistent on finding the knight of Cider Hall to swear him into the Kingsguard, as he was the only candidate to show such prowess in combat.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who can barely hold back his treacherous smirk as Prince Aerion throws yet another tantrum over his success, it now being about him being sworn into the Kingsguard. Ser Raymun chooses to pay the Prince no mind and instead look towards his Princess, you, who cannot seem hold back the excitement in your tone as you lead him through his most holy vows.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who previously had a future of marrying a common girl ahead of him, but instead had chosen to accept your calling, thus swearing his life to protect you and your royal house, the house he despises with his entire being. All because of the look you gave him.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who has a difficult time thinking much more of it as you stand above him holding an ornamental sword in your hands. His eyes catch on the details of the dress your wearing, which he thinks is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his life. Kneeling in front of you in the radiant light of the Great Sept, Ser Raymun can only picture how similar this scene is to actually taking your hand in marriage, how close he is to you in this moment. He truly believes that The Seven must have led him before you.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, whose admiration for you quickly turns into something darker and more obsessive the more time he spends in his days with you, watching you, protecting you, getting to know you.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who notices your stark differences compared to your uncles and cousins and grows to love you for it; noting how those differences often lead to you feeling lonely within the Keep.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who accepts his princess’s frivolity and indulges in your erratic Targaryen behaviors despite his hatred for it. Granting you attention when you need it the most and are not receiving it elsewhere.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who genuinely considers you a friend the longer he is in your service. Discovering what makes you laugh, cry, grimace, what makes you passionate, what makes you upset. He becomes so obsessed with the thought of you that he begins to improperly impose himself into your daily life; receiving your attention entirely too much for someone of his status.
Ser Raymun Fossoway who grits his teeth at every grimy lord that finds your company. Fist tightening just above the hilt of his sheathed sword as he watches any attention you receive. You will giggle at his tense demeanor afterwards, to which he’ll remind you gruffly that he’s your sworn protector, explaining that he must be prepared at all times for danger. But you see the true emotion within him, and how an anger seems to bubble just on the surface as you speak with other men.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who allows you to happily waltz around the Red Keep acting as if you have him tied around your finger like a dog, for he knows that he also has you just as enamored. He never fails to notice the glances you give him as you interact with the lords in court to catch his reaction, or the way you gravitate towards him after you’ve been apart, or how you seem to place value to every response he provides you.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who becomes your closest confidant. You tell him everything, sharing your thoughts, feelings, and secrets with him freely in hushed whispers.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who finds himself entertaining more and more inappropriate contact with his princess despite the deathly repercussions if caught. His growing temptation only intensifying the more time he spends alone with you.
In times of unease, Ser Raymun Fossoway easily slips into your chambers to offer his comfort to his princess, this comfort transforming into something else entirely …
⋆.𐙚 ̊ NSFW ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who hears your soft pleas for him on the other side of the great oak door between you. Who first checks his surroundings, then silently enters your chambers after.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who confidently enters your line of sight, but freezes, gawking at the sight of your naked vision displayed to him; the smooth silk of your blankets wrap around your body elegantly, legs spread open, your delicate fingers trace your innermost sensitive parts. Seeing him, you don’t falter and speak his name again.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who becomes intoxicated at the fact that no one can stop him from locking the doors behind him. That no one is here to stop him from continuing his way towards your bed and further onto your soft, panting frame.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, whose affections for you intensifies to an extreme level after taking your maidenhood that very night. Feeling like he has transcended to godhood after traversing your body, entering the most sacred of heavens.
Ser Raymun Fossoway who lives to spite the Targaryens so much so that he can solely get off from the power complex he gets from being between your thighs, the precious princess of the realm, who is undeniably his.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, whose whole body tenses when your fingertips ghost over the white metal of his armor during his watch. Eyes pleading with his princess for mercy in the face of her torture, thanking the gods that his armor hides any clues of his excitement.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who shamelessly licks at your cunt from under your dresses in the hallways, corridors, and dark corners of the Red Keep after he feels you have forgotten about him for too long.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who will make sure to remind you of who you truly belong to after you speak with the lords in court by bending you over the nearest surface once you’ve returned to the confines of your room.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who often, and despite desperately trying not to, pictures you with your family when pleasuring himself, wondering if your affection of him would change somehow if he had possessed the alien features of your disgusting lineage.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who places his larger palm over your womb to feel himself thrust inside you, imagining you swelling with his child soon after. Producing a child of brown hair and plain features of course, hoping his traits would be strong enough to remove any trace of your cursed bloodline.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who whispers filthy, traitorous things into your ear while also worshipping the ground you walk on. He doesn’t care that his words could get his tounge removed, or worse.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who when questioned if your actions together are acceptable, when you express fear of your family discovering your secret, simply grabs your face to speak directly in your ear. “Fuck your family,” he’ll state bluntly before continuing his ministrations on your body.
Ser Raymun Fossoway, who in the quiet aftermath of your times together, will cradle your naked form in his arms protectively, finding himself dreading the thought of the day you are finally promised and wed to some lord, or the sevens forbid, a member of your dreaded family. Often wishing that he could find a way to take you from the Keep, he dreams of an opportunity to do so; imagining a world where a rebellion against House Targaryen is actually enacted by the disgruntled houses of the kingdom, allowing him the perfect opportunity to escape with you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
first time writing nsfw so hopefully it wasn’t too terrible, if there are any typos, no there isn’t. my requests are open <3
Landing an internship with SDN after graduating university feels like a dream.
You were hired due to your Communications degree and some work you did for various companies during your time in school.
Blazer was impressed by your resume and was openly fond of your personality, winning you a position within her unit.
You technically work directly under Blonde Blazer, who oversees the entire SDN branch in Torrence, but with Z-team needing so much attention lately, she personally assigned you to the project as support.
Lately, you have found yourself occupying your days in a small cubicle adjacent to your new supervisor Robert Robertson the III, who barely pays you any mind throughout the day.
Robert does make effort to at least say good-morning and good-night to you, maybe a thank you here and there for the work you do. Sometimes he’s even nice enough to bring in sweets for the team, to which you benefit from completely; especially when you forget to bring your lunch.
Working with the Z-team mostly includes spending time marketing and networking, taking in complaints, writing and filing reports, and filling in for Chase during dispatches when he needs it.
And so far, your favorite thing about being assigned to the Z-team is Beef, your supervisors dog, who spends most of his time in a deep sleep at your feet.
Despite his tendency to fart a little too much and beg you for anything remotely edible, he’s cute and provides good company for the long days in the office.
Beef also has a tendency to bring in some good company, as many of the Z-Team members stop by to say hi and get some pets in between missions.
You were nervous at first having to interact with the former villains at SDN, but after a couple visits with a few of them, you became more confident keeping a conversation with them.
Sonar and Malevola stop by the most, usually bickering about something random and asking for your input as a “neutral” party.
Prism also stops by and asks about any outreaching events she can do, often showing you content she wants to post on Z-Team’s social media account.
The other members of the Z-Team keep any conversation with you brief at the moment, but their presence is pleasant. You’re hoping with some time they’ll open up more to you.
But of course, everything can’t be pleasant all the time.
Unfortunately, Invisigal finds herself around your cubicle more often than you would prefer.
Ever since you were hired, she’s seemed to always be lurking around the office and if you weren’t a part of dispatch calls, you would be inclined to believe that she didn’t even do anything at SDN other than pester the staff.
You know she’s older than you, but she is so insufferably childish.
Invisigal has no boundaries with the use of her powers, and often uses them in situations that will embarrass people the most. She always imposes herself in conversations that didn’t welcome her and uses the information gained to her advantage. She never does what has been asked of her, opting for something that goes against what was suggested but will still get the job done, just to spite those above her.
By all means she still acts like a villain, but she is stubborn. So stubborn that she continues to be valuable enough to the team so they won’t fire her…again.
It also helps that Blonde Blazer has a soft spot for her, not that you could really understand why.
The reason Invisigal finds herself around your desk so often however, is not because of Beef, but because of Robert...
—
Invisigal leans over the side of Robert’s cubicle wall, poking him with one of his desk pens, and by the sounds of it, it seems like Robert is trying, unsuccessfully, to give her the silent treatment.
There’s some sort of weird tension between the two that settles in your mind uncomfortably. You can’t describe how their relationship makes you feel, but you know you don’t like it.
You angle yourself a bit higher in your office chair to glance over at the situation.
You tell yourself that it’s not an obsession, just observation. An investigation, perhaps?
Invisigal is relentless to say the least. You’ve heard talk around the office that she was fired by Robert with the support of the Z-Team before you arrived. After she was terminated, she still showed up during the fiasco with the Red Ring and saved the day. Regaining some trust from SDN, but clearly, it’s still a work in progress.
After everything, you would think that she would change somehow, but from what you understand, she remains the same as she was before.
Resilient.
Robert continues to ignore Invisigal, typing away at his computer. You often wonder if there was something closer between them… something more intimate than SDN would approve of.
The thought makes you queasy.
Continuing to peer over your cubicle as inconspicuously as you can, you watch as the pen in Visi’s hand gets closer to Robert’s ear, clearly aiming to stick right inside of it.
She’s hanging slightly from the top of the cubicle wall. If she really wanted to poke Robert, she could walk right around it but no, she always seems to take the hardest route possible.
Her face is determined, purple hair swaying in front of her eyesight. You notice her nose twitch at the sensation but she continues on. She bites at her lip and your eyes catch on the light gloss she’s wearing.
Visi gets closer to her goal, and just as you think she'll make the final push, she glances over at you, making eye contact.
Fuck, you blew it.
You quickly slump down and look back towards your monitor, hoping that whatever god is watching keeps her preoccupied with bothering Robert.
But you’re not that lucky, are you?
You hear her body sliding against the cubicle wall before she comes back into your vision.
Her full attention is on you now and it feels exactly how you imagine Phenomaman’s laser vision to feel, perhaps worse.
You look up at her and practically jump out of your seat. Her brown eyes are… intense.
You feel like you’re being stared at in the same way a tiger must stare at her prey.
“Um..uh-“ you have to clear your throat as if you could stop it from closing in on itself.
“Can I help you with something… Invisigal?” You hate this, interacting with her.
Especially since you can never get your shit together around her, which is something she never fails to notice, and something she always needs to point out.
She continues to stare in silence, but casually leans over the cubicle now. Raising up her hand she shows you the pen in her hand, the one previously poking at Robert’s head.
At first you think that her little game has made its way to you, that the pen will soon be jabbed directly into your brain, but she speaks up.
“Hey intern girl, do you happen to have a longer pen?” Her voice is smooth but husky, no doubt a result from her smoking habit.
You stare at her for a moment longer before blinking back to reality and you start to glance at your desk.
“You know- uh...I think that’s a standard issued SDN pen, which I also have because you know- I work here.” Your voice trails off as you look back up at her.
“So no Invisigal, I don’t think I do…” You finish bluntly, you feel like a deer in headlights.
Invisigal takes a second longer before responding, and you feel like you can see a glint forming in her eyes. A mischievous glint.
She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted,
“Invisigal I need you out there, we just got another call.” Robert says sternly from the other side of your cubicle.
You can tell that there’s some type of look happening between the two but you can only see Visi’s face from where you sitting.
She seems, disappointed?
“Yeah. Right.” Invisigal states coolly as she straightens back up.
She looks back towards you, “See you later intern.”
Turning invisible, purple light briefly blinding you she drops the pen on your desk. The cheap plastic clacks obnoxiously against the wood as it lands in front of you.
Looking down at the pen, you let out a breathe you didn’t know you were holding.
Before you could fall further into embarrassment, Robert says your name calmly. Quickly, you turn your attention to him. His head is popping out from the top of your cubicle and you see him adjusting his headset. The look he gives you is unreadable.
“You’re up too.”
—
You were not expecting to have to fill in for Chase today but with all the medical appointments he has lately to check on his condition, you don’t feel like you have much to complain about.
That of course, brought you to where you are now.
Being behind on your paperwork, you’re forced to stand face to face with of one of your office rivals during lunch, the printer, which is currently flashing an ominous red light indicating that something is wrong. Fuck if you know what, you just refilled the damn thing with both paper and ink, what more can it want from you?
As you fiddle with the settings, you sigh, holding onto the printer a little too tight because of your frustration, the plastic creaking under your fingertips.
Printer problems… just what you need right now, especially since you’re falling behind on your reports because of the extra dispatch shifts.
You cannot let Blonde Blazer down, she trusted you to be able to handle this.
You look down at Beef for support, who has placed himself at your feet, staring at you in solidarity before he starts to apprehensively sniff the air around you.
A sudden flash of purple light appears next to you accompanied by a swooshing sound, Invisigal.
“We have the same boss you know, Isn’t that funny?” Visi starts talking as quick as she appeared from thin air, leaning on the wall right next to you and the printer.
You glance over at her casual state against the wall, she’s wearing a white tank top and her iconic pink jacket. You notice a purple hue peeking through the hem of her top and you try not to make it obvious that you immediately notice that she’s wearing a new sports bra.
Stop being weird, you scold yourself.
Just like her presence willed it, the printer light turns green and magically starts printing the documents you need oh so desperately. Great, because of earlier, she must have chosen you as her victim for the afternoon. You sigh and look back towards the now cooperative printer.
“That’s so funny Visi, I’m happy you pointed it out…” You say with no emotion in your tone completely focused on the printer and the blinking buttons in front of you, not in the mood to entertain Visi’s antics.
Gazing at you, Invisigal pulls out a cigarette and a lighter. Flicking it, she lights her cigarette in front of you as she boldly looks you up and down, eyes settling on the hand you have resting on your hip before looking back up at you.
Her tense gaze makes you uncomfortably shift between your feet, you don’t like that you don’t know what she’s thinking.
“Hey you want to know something?” Her voice lowers, presenting more determination than her usual jests. You look back up to meet her eyes out of curiosity and see that they have grown darker, piercing right through yours.
She leans in closer to you, so much so that you feel her let out her breath. She smells like coffee, smoke, and maybe something sweet. A smell that shouldn’t be appealing but you can’t seem to back away.
“Do you know that me and Robert fucked?” She says bluntly, eyes not leaving yours as she takes a smooth draw from her cigarette.
Your movements stop and you choke on air. Helplessly frozen, you’re stuck starring back into her brown eyes in shock. So it is true, there is something more going on between them.
Do you have to report this..? God you really did it want to know this… why is she telling you this?
You glance over towards where you last saw Robert, who you see in the break room punching numbers into the vending machine, blissfully unaware of the situation you just been forcefully made aware of.
She tilts her head at you, hair falling in front of your eyes which grabs your attention again. Keeping eye contact with her is like a challenge.
Visi stares at you for a moment longer then suddenly exhales the smoke from her lungs in your direction with a laugh. You’re so caught up in the moment that you just stand there and gawk at her.
“In my dreams of course, not real life... That would be against company policy am I right?” She continues to laugh, acting like this is the most amusing conversation she has ever had in her life, tapping some ash from her cigarette into the trash next you both.
“Lighten up babes, I’m fucking with you. You know, I didn’t take you for the jealous type.” She says smugly as she takes another puff of that nasty little cancer stick she loves so much.
You cough a bit from the smoke before glaring at her, not knowing how this interaction makes you feel, how she makes you feel.
And you don’t know what’s worse, now having the image of Visi and Robert fucking each-other in your head or the fact that she just admitted to having a wet dream about him.
“You’re so easy, little miss HR, I bet your ass was going to go run and tell Blazer as fast as you could.” Visi continues to chuckle at your dazed state, tilting her head.
Can this day get any longer? You close your eyes and control your breathing. You cannot help what you cannot control.
Grounding yourself, you open your eyes and try to stare blankly at her, considering your words.
“You’re not allowed to smoke in here Invisigal, that’s against company policy.” You emphasize as you start to sort the files that just printed and stack them together.
“And Visi, you’re right, Blazer says I have to start reporting this kind of stuff if you don’t stop.” You say softly as you grab your documents off the printer and look back at her, your head gesturing to her cigarette.
Visi rolls her eyes at you and you feel like you’ve just been put through some kind of test, not that you’ll know whether you passed or not.
You can practically see the gears turning in her head as she takes one last puff and exhales. Her jaw tenses and she rolls her eyes but chooses to blow the smoke away from you this time before throwing it into the trash beside her.
She gives you one last look, her gaze becoming unreadable and you try and mimic her demeanor back to her as best as you can before she disappears.
Once she’s “gone,” you let out your breath.
Turning invisible after causing problems… per usual.
You just hope she isn’t planning on surprise punching you like you have seen her do to others on multiple occasions.
You wonder, would she?
You suppose you aren’t any different than the other victims of her wrath, but you can’t help but hope she’d think of you somewhat differently…
You start to walk away but stop yourself. You slowly turn your gaze back to the trashcan where Visi carelessly dropped her cigarette; It’s still lit.
Sighing you grab some water from the nearby water fountain and pour it on top of the cigarette, hoping that you just successfully prevented an office fire from starting.
You look to the floor to see if Beef was a witness to all of this, Beef's face looks surprisingly confused which almost makes you laugh. Walking away with a hum, you swear you hear a faint, stifled laugh from behind you.
perhaps now is a good time to say i hate the way Invisigal is written, but now im writing fanfics of her. i suppose that is the real toxic relationship here...
summary: you get a little too over your head with this super hero stuff, so much so you forget that you need balance in your life for a reason. good thing Robert is there for you when things don’t go as planned.
comfort/fluff. fem reader. reader struggles with self image due to her powers. slow burn.
When you discovered your power, more importantly, her, it was euphoric but devastating.
The first time you “hulked out” you leveled an entire city block.
You were walking home from a night at the bar with your friends when you ran into a group of thugs that couldn’t keep their mouths shut about your body as you walked by. It only escalated when you told one of them to shut the fuck up.
You remember your emotions heightening as an argument erupted, and as your anger intensified you felt yourself changing physically. Your skin turned green, your clothes ripped and you felt yourself growing larger, heavier, stronger.
You’ll never forget the frightened look on the thugs faces when you suddenly towered over them. Predators turning into prey.
Of course…you are in the Phoenix Program for a reason.
While some of your hulking counterparts fall into a mindless rage when transformed, you remain fully cognizant of your actions. As her, your not only strong, but more confident in yourself and your abilities.
Your newfound power was scary but intoxicating, leading you to make some pretty bad decisions.
Luckily, with support from Blonde Blazer, you have been able to change your life around after your “criminal” endeavors for the better.
Leading you to where you are now, cheerfully mingling with the rest of the Z-team in the conference room after another successful mission against The Red Ring.
The fight was pretty intense, requiring the entire Z-team to be dispatched. Thankfully, with Robert’s direction and everyone stepping in to help, The Red Ring was defeated with little to no injuries on the teams end.
Gathered around the table, you’re leaning down to look at Prism’s phone when you hear the doors to the conference room push open. You look up and lock eyes with Robert, Chase and Blonde Blazer following in behind him. Robert’s hair is disheveled per usual and his headphones have been pushed down to rest on his shoulders. His collar hangs loose around his neck and you cannot help look at the exposed skin of his collarbones. Robert looks towards you apprehensively, noticing your gaze on him and you give him a smile and a wink before continuing to watch the video Prism took during the fight which currently shows Punch-up throwing a guy directly into Melevola’s sword.
“Holy shit-” you snorted out, “I didn’t know you were about that life Punch-up.” you laugh towards the much smaller man sitting next you you, nudging Prism, who’s currently cutting the video and saving the clip.
“Ive fuckin’ been about it.” Punch-up gleams as his leans back in his seat, looking a bit smug with the recognition.
You hear Robert clear his throat, indicating that he’s about to address you all and it looks like he’s about to start one of his famous “let’s go team” speeches. As you look him over, you notice that a light blush has appeared on the tips of his ears since you last looked over, Was that because of you? You hope so.
Not being able to sit at the table without breaking any chairs, you decide to lean against the wall to listen to his pep-talk.
As you push away from the table, you suddenly feel lightheaded. Your vision blurs and your limbs start to feel numb, stumbling over your feet you collide into the wall of the conference room for support.
You hear the commotion of the Z-team behind you as you fall onto the floor beneath you; concerned yells and the shuffling of feet around you. You feel someone at your side but you cannot identify who they are and you cannot really understand what anyone is saying to you with your head spinning so violently.
You start to feel yourself losing energy, and the ground beneath you starts getting closer as you start shrinking.
Your body is becoming smaller and you start seeing your green skin turn its natural color.
This cannot be happening right now. You groan as your muscles contract.
Your hero garb is becoming baggy around your frame and you have to scoop it up to cover yourself.
“Hey look at me…” you hear Robert say your name beside you. “What’s happening, I need you to speak to me and tell me what’s going on, what do we need to do-” his concerned voice is the last thing you hear before your vision completely goes dark.
—
You’re in the SDN gym when Robert finds you later that day. After the fiasco that happened in the conference room earlier he didn’t know if you would still be around after hours.
As he walks through the door, you’re standing in front of the mirror spanning the far wall of the gym, and if Robert didn’t spend so much of his free time in the office looking through your file, he wouldn’t have recognized you at first. Well, this version of you.
You’ve ditched your normal super attire for a sports bra and leggings, not like you could fit into your ‘normal’ attire at the moment anyways, Robert thinks to himself as his eyes scan over your body.
You’re smaller, by a couple of feet, your frame is less muscular, and perhaps more obviously, you’re no longer green.
As Robert starts to walk towards you, he tries not to notice how your natural skin tone glistens with sweat under the low lights of the gym and how your lips part to let out a breath as you push a loose strand of hair off of your face.
Your body is facing away from the mirror, towards Robert, when you turn your head and look at yourself through it, you twist your body at the waist, put your arms up and flex. Robert approaches you and swallows hard. His eyes can’t help but follow the expanse of your exposed skin as you flex. His eyes start at your arms, then your shoulders, then down to your stomach.
He can’t lie to himself that these aren’t the parts of you that he normally finds himself glancing at the most.
On too many occasions he’s found himself (not so) secretly mapping the curvature of your large muscles. During meetings, around the office, and through the cameras of SDN subscribers when you call for extra backup on missions.
But this is different… you are so different like this. You are still you, and just as beautiful as ever, just without all the green.
As he gets closer to you he stops, he can see the frustration in your face as you continue to flex in different positions like you’re dissecting your frame, you’re clearly looking for something he cannot see. As Robert opens his mouth to say something, you suddenly let out a huff of anger before your fist collides with the mirror in-front of you.
Crack—
Earlier that evening, you woke up in a comfy and sterile bed within the medical bay where you were met with the concerned faces of the SDN medic staff, who spent hours fiddling with their machines and running tests on your condition.
You were informed that due to the excessive use of your powers and staying in your hulk form for far too long, your body was running on overtime, causing you to revert back into your original form.
You haven’t been keeping a balance like you’re supposed to, and now you’re on strict medical orders of when you can and cannot transform.
Breathing heavy, you look up at yourself through the cracks of the mirror when you finally notice that Robert has been standing behind you.
Your eyes connect with his and you can’t help but first notice the dark bags under his brown eyes. When did he get here? Wow you really are in your head right now. You need to get yourself together. Robert doesn’t need to see you like this, not when you’re not… her.
Robert has his jacket on his shoulder and his bag in his hand. He looks like he’s finally heading out of the office. It’s pretty late and he’s come to check in on you? How sweet, you think, but you quickly shake that thought away and replace it with logic.
Robert is your boss, and he’s probably required to check on your wellbeing to finish a report on the incident or something, nothing more…
You feel wetness before the pain.
You’re forced to look back towards your hand and pull it away from the mirror. Blood and glass shards cover your dominant hand.
”Shit!” you curse as you quickly cradle your now aching hand… your incredibly normal and boring hand. How embarrassing.
You clench your fist and you think back to earlier that day when you punched straight through a brick wall like it was nothing, this is pathetic really, you’re pathetic.
You groan and bend over to grab your workout towel that you threw haphazardly to the side moments ago after finishing a couple sets.
Since discovering your powers, working out has become an outlet for you, it being both therapeutic and a way to make your normal form feel stronger, even though it will never compare.
“Not as impressive now, huh?” you sigh towards Robert as you avoid his gaze, hissing as you start to wipe the glass off your knuckles and wrap your bleeding hand with the towel. You didn’t want him to see you like this; normal.
Why can’t you always just be her?
“I don’t know, I find you punching out a stationary object like that pretty impressive.” Robert says with a light chuckle. His voice is tired yet smooth and disarming, and you can tell he’s trying to ease the tension in the air.
You chuckle to yourself, there’s a reason he was specially picked to be the dispatcher for Z-team.
“I have to say though, I’m pretty sure destroying company property isn’t what medical meant when they said you should be resting.” Robert says while gesturing towards the mirror.
Closing the distance between you, Robert gently guides your clumsily wrapped hand into his so he can take a look at it.
“Too much pre-workout?” He jokes, tilting his head down to try and catch your eyes.
“Medical doesn’t know what they’re talking about.” You spit out as you roll your eyes. They don’t know anything about you- or her.
You finally look up at him and you feel your skin raise up in surprise. Look up, you have to look up at him to meet his eyes and you swear your soul leaves your body as your eyes connect.
No no no, this is too much. The proximity between you both and the fact that you’re not used to people being able to tower over you.
You haven’t been used to it for a while at least, especially not Robert Robertson the III. The man that blushes every time you stand to close to him, the man that starts to stumble over his words when you stretch during meetings, the man that loses his train of thought when you lean over him at his desk to ask him a question. The man you find so much fun in messing with.
You are the one that towers over others, not the other way around. You’re comfortable being the biggest, strongest, and most confident person in the room; you take control of your surroundings and get what you want.
But you aren’t her anymore, are you?
You are you again, painfully normal and powerless (for the time being at least), and you absolutely hate it.
And now with Robert looking over you with concern in his gaze, you cannot help but notice how good he looks from this angle, and you can help but tell from the glint in his eye and the tiniest bit of a smirk beginning to tug at the corner of his lips that he’s enjoying being the one looking down at you for once.
You’re so close to him you feel the heat radiating from him and his breath fanning over your face, you almost forget that he’s holding your hand in his. It feels so comforting, so normal.
“Are you disappointed?” You speak before you can stop yourself, needing to cut the sudden tension between you both.
“Are you being serious?” He chuckles out, slightly shaking his head in confusion.
“Am I serious? Are you being serious?” Your nervousness suddenly becoming slight frustration.
“This is a big difference, okay?” You say, looking at him in disbelief and gesturing to yourself.
“I’m not her okay… or fuck, I am her, she is me, but I’m not her all the time… I guess.” The words struggle to tumble out.
“It’s difficult to explain to people.” You start to move away but you feel one of his hands move away from cradling yours to hold onto your arm, preventing you from turning away.
Robert says your name gently like he’s not trying to scare you away and you find it hard to look back towards him, wanting to just be finished with this interaction.
“I’m not most people.” he says calmly, “Explain it to me, please.”
Begrudgingly, you look back towards him. Since he asked so nicely, and his eyes look so cute as he does it.
“It’s just hard, okay, meeting new people when their entire view of me depends on what version of myself they meet first. It’s disappointing… I know.”
His eyes soften as you speak, you don’t want to be seen as this vulnerable, especially not in front of Robert, your boss, and the man you have the most annoying crush on.
Getting some courage looking back up at him you decide that maybe opening up to him can’t be as bad as you think, not when he’s holding you the way he is now, looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters.
Sighing, you decide to continue. “Before the Phoenix Program Robert… I was a mess. I tried staying in this form as much as possible, I hid from her, and where did that get me? Here. I fucked up, multiple times, and I let her… or me fuck… I don’t know, get the best of me, overpower me. But SDN gave me a chance, Mand-, I mean Blonde Blazer gave me a chance, and that means a lot to me. And since then I’ve been a fucking superhero, and people are starting to look at me that way and it feels good, so good that I never wanted to not be her again… and now…”
Look where that got you.
His voice breaks your train of thought.
“Well first, I want you to know that you’re not disappointing, you could never disappoint me. Especially not for being you. Either version of you.” Robert says with a warm smile, his voice bringing you back to reality.
You can never disappoint him? Is that really true? The words struggle to settle in your mind. You really needed to hear that from someone, but coming from him?
“Second, and I hate to bring it up right now, but your hand has bled through this shitty towel and has started to leak all over me so I think we need to move this conversation, and you, back to medical.” Robert says more sternly, wrapping the towel tighter around you while glancing around for something else he can use.
Well back to business you guess. The moment with him was nice while it lasted.
“Oh um, you don’t have to worry about it,” you stutter out under his full attention. “My hand, I mean. It uh… it will heal right back up when I go green again.” you smile awkwardly, trying to reassure him.
“Yeah and when’s the next time you’re going green again? Oh right, not anytime soon.” He says with some sarcasm as he starts leading you away from the cracked mirror and towards the exit of the gym.
“Come on now, I don’t need you bleeding out on company property, especially under my supervision.” Robert tries to say nonchalantly as he looks back towards you, but as your eyes connect again you still notice the concern in his eyes and you can’t help but smile, you got him right where you want him.
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thanks for reading, perhaps more to come in the future <3
The portrayal of white people who have been violently separated from their own culture stealing the power of black culture and music to try to get reconnected was SO literal and somehow not at ALL heavy-handed or trite. Fkn remarkable.
I think it's hilarious that for the last 9 years Rocket saying "im not a raccoon" was assumed to be some deep rejection of self when in reality the man just had no clue what a fuckin raccoon was.
