no because nobody understands how hard it was to find x reader fics of anyone in the gaang or atla fandom in general before this movie came out. now there’s new fics coming out daily. I USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THIS‼️
when FIRELORD ZUKO takes a liking to AVATAR AANG'S mysterious new BRIDE.
TORN BETWEEN TWO ROADS ! — aang x reader x zuko
PLOT. republic city is finally at peace, and for once, katara allows herself to hope—maybe now, after everything, she and aang can finally become something real. but when aang returns after eight months, he isn’t alone. he comes back with you at his side, introducing you as his wife. suspicious yet helpless, his friends do their best to welcome you, even as nothing about this sudden marriage makes sense. but while everyone else keeps their distance, one person doesn’t. and perhaps Zuko gets a little too comfortable with the avatar’s new wife.
CHARACTERS. AANG and ZUKO.
CHAPTER WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps. reader is 21, established relationship, mean sokka (no hate for him please, i am just a bitch hahah), little arguing (lowkey fight), alcohol consumption, swearing, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.
(please check the story masterlist for the story warnings.)
WC. 5.8k
masterlist : story masterlist
chapter one
a/n: i did not expect the response i got for the first chapter. i am genuinely glad that you all enjoyed it, for which i would also suggest you to please read the a/n at the end!
p.s: do not ask me the layout of katara's house. just know that it's big and like the one we see in the movie, except i have made up everything inside for convenience.
Morning came quickly, and with it, Fire Lord Zuko.
Sokka, Katara, and Toph had come to greet him at the harbor, and while they did think to call Aang, knowing him to be an early riser, they just guessed he would be occupied with his wife.
Zuko walked alongside them, his presence drawing the occasional glance, though far less than it might have elsewhere. Here, in the Republic City, titles blended more easily into the crowd, and even a Fire Lord could pass through without bringing everything to a halt.
His attention remained forward, though it shifted slightly at the way the others had been speaking since he arrived; their awkwardness was blatant.
And when he had asked where Aang was, it was Sokka who finally said it outright, unable to hold it in any longer.
"He's married."
Zuko slowed half a step, eyes widening at the revelation. He was expecting an 'Oh, he slept in!' or 'He's busy with Avatar stuff, y'know?', but this was the most unlikely answer to the question he had asked.
"What?" he repeated, the surprise clear.
"Yup. He came back yesterday with a suspicious-looking lady, and then he introduced her as his wife!"
Sokka spoke animatedly, which really didn't help his case while explaining something that was already hard to believe.
"Oh. Good for him."
Zuko's reaction landed poorly. Sokka turned toward him immediately, incredulity written plainly across his face.
"Good? How is that your takeaway from this?"
Zuko frowned slightly, not in a defensive manner, but genuinely confused by the response.
"He's married," he said, as though that alone should explain it. "What's not to be happy about?"
Sokka stared at him for a second longer before his face shifted. Without saying anything, he tilted his head just enough, his gaze flicking briefly toward Katara.
Zuko understood, sparing a small glance at the Waterbender. He did not comment on it so as to not acknowledge the implication aloud.
So he spoke again, not entirely changing the topic but not dwelling on the previous conversation.
"What is she like?" he asked.
Toph gave a small shrug, her posture loose, though her answer came like she had it ready. "Couldn't tell you much. She barely spoke."
"She was all gloomy." Sokka added.
"That's not true Sokka, she was just tired." Katara said, and the fact that she spoke at all drew their attention immediately.
"She's..." Katara paused for a second, then continued, "she's beautiful."
Everyone visibly faltered in their steps, making Katara let out an exasperated sigh.
"Can you guys please stop? I'm fine, alright?" she said, a quiet firmness entering her voice as she looked at them.
"Can you stop looking at me like that? It's like you're walking around eggshells whenever you talk about Aang."
No one responded. Frankly, they didn't know what to say.
"There's nothing wrong," she continued, voice softer now. "He's happy. And nothing makes me happier than that."
Zuko drew a quiet breath, feeling the air grow awkward by the second, so he spoke—
"Where is his wife from—"
He couldn't finish.
Sokka's attention snapped elsewhere mid-step, his hand lifting abruptly as he pointed across the street, his voice cutting through Zuko's question.
"Look! There's Aang...woah."
All of them (except Toph) followed his line of sight, and there, moving through the street were you and Aang.
You walked beside him, your arm encircled around one of his. Aang greeted those around him with the same open warmth he always had, children waving as he passed, some giving a gentle bow.
But it was not Aang that had held their attention.
It was you.
The difference from the day before was unmistakable.
Where you had once appeared in plain robes, you now stood adorned in the finest of fabrics, silks that caught the light in all their glory, draped carefully over your form.
Delicate jewelry framed you, resting at your neck, your ears, your wrists, your hands, even woven into your hair, each placed with grace as though they were a part of you.
It was a stark contrast. Not only to what you had worn the day before, but to him.
Aang, in his simple robes, untouched by ornaments except for his prayer beads and the Air Nomads symbol he wore proudly, stood beside you without any attempt to match you in your regal ensemble.
It felt...unexpected.
The distance between all of you closed naturally, meeting the group halfway.
You had inclined your head slightly, offering a small bow in greeting, as Aang excitedly greeted his friends.
He left your side momentarily, moving to give Zuko a hug after not having seen him for over a year now.
Once Aang returned to your side, you finally spoke, and it felt as though they were hearing your voice for the first time.
"It is an honor to be in the presence of the Fire Lord," you said, your tone refined. "I have heard of your tales and your journey from my husband. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
Your gaze rested on Zuko trying not to linger on the scar across his face. Simultaneously, Zuko took in every inch of you with a quick skim.
There was a confidence in the way you held yourself, in the way you walked, even in the way you spoke. The structure of your speech, the practiced tone, the accustomed comfort of status.
It was unmistakable, and Zuko took note of it easily.
You carried the weight of upbringing, much like himself. You carried royalty.
He inclined his head slightly in return, his response just as respectful.
"The honor is mine," he said.
Your attention shifted then, moving to the others.
"It is good to see you all again," you continued, offering a small smile that did not overreach.
"I apologize if my company yesterday was lacking. I had been traveling for days without pause, and though I would have preferred to settle into our home sooner, I understood that Aang wished to make up for lost time."
At that, you glanced back at Aang, and he met your look with a sheepish grin, one hand lifting to the back of his head in a gesture far too familiar to everyone there.
"Sorry," he said lightly. "I was just really excited."
His hand dropped soon after, settling over yours where it rested against his arm. You only shook your head faintly, your smile remaining.
"There is no need to apologize." Then your gaze shifted again.
"You are Katara, correct?" you spoke, turning to the Water Tribe girl.
The moment you spoke her name, you felt Aang flinch against you, your eyes snapping to your connected hands before returning to Katara.
"...Yes?" Katara answered with a question hidden beneath it.
"The food you prepared yesterday was lovely," you said. "I am grateful for the effort you put into hosting us on such short notice."
Katara blinked once, caught off guard by the sincerity of it.
"Oh...that..." she said, her words settling unevenly before she steadied them. "It was my pleasure."
You nodded slightly in acknowledgment before continuing.
"I understand from Aang that we are to gather at your home again this evening."
"Yes," Katara replied, more certain with her voice now. "I'll have everything ready by eight."
"I see," you said. "Aang and I shall arrive earlier to assist you."
Katara's response came quickly, almost like a reflex. "Oh, there's no need for that—"
"I insist," you said gently, and although you had just met, the finality in your words left little room for refusal.
"We will be there at six. Won't we, Aang?"
There was the smallest pause before Aang glanced at you, then back at the others, his smile returning easily.
"Yeah, Katara, we want to help."
"We'll be there too," Sokka added quickly, his words coming out faster than intended. He wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but something about your presence at Katara's home unsettled him.
"I will join as well," Zuko said, his voice steady, his gaze returning to you with quiet interest.
Toph let out a small huff. "I'd offer, but—"
"You're coming anyway," Sokka cut in immediately.
A quiet laugh passed between them, light enough to ease the moment.
Aang shifted, his attention returning to you as he remembered his agenda for the day.
"I promised to show her around," he stated, the grin stretching across his face in excitement.
"I'll see you guys at noon!" he said, before guiding you forward once more, his hand engulfing yours as he pulled you along with him.
By the time the sun had reached its peak, the earlier bustle smoothed beneath the midday heat. As promised, Aang had left to meet his friends. He had left you at home not long before, trusting you to settle in at your own pace.
He found Appa waiting, ever patient, as he climbed onto his back, Momo already darting up to join him, settling on his shoulder. The flight was short, and it did not take long before the city gave way to an open stretch of land just beyond the outskirts of the city, leading uphill to a stumped cliff.
His friends were already there, waiting for him. Aang was excited to spend some time with them. He had sensed your presence make them feel awkward around him, so he thought this might come as a good opportunity to ease their friends into his new marital life.
Sokka stood close to the edge, his posture restless even as he was still, while Katara remained close by, her attention shifting at the sound of Appa's descent. Toph sat relaxed, floating a few rocks in the palm of her hand, and beside them stood Zuko, his presence quieter than the group.
Appa landed and the wind settled around them as Aang stepped down, and Momo wasted no time in leaping off after him to greet the others.
His gaze moved across them, a small smile forming. It felt nice to have the group back together. And he hoped for you to gently be included in the future.
His friends on the other hand, had a different plan They trusted him. That much had never been in question. But even their trust was wavering as curiosity came knocking down those carefully built walls.
The scheme had been made before he arrived. It was simple. Get information out of Aang. Simple.
And perhaps if they had asked straightforwardly, Aang wouldn't have denied them.
But Sokka just had to ruin it all by starting off the conversation with—
"You know, Aang, you really shouldn't let your wife walk around dressed like that. Isn't she supposed to wear your monk robes now? What even was that?"
He let out a short laugh, the sound landing unevenly against the quiet of the hill.
Aang's expression shifted, his easy grin dropping so dramatically, they were sure the entire city felt the pressure in the air drop.
Beside Sokka, Toph let out a sharp exhale, her hand coming up to her face in immediate exasperation.
Katara did not hesitate, a quick motion of her hand sending a splash of water directly into Sokka's face with enough force to deliver a slap.
"Hey—!" Sokka sputtered, wiping at his face as he turned toward her, ready to argue, but Aang's voice came sooner than his.
"What are you trying to say, Sokka?"
Aang looked as though he would lash out, but he didn't. His voice wasn't loud, and it didn't need to be to feel the growing anger beneath it.
The tension followed, unsettling them all. For a brief moment no one spoke, because this had been uncalled for. None of them wanted their 'reunion' to start on a bad note, much less end on it.
So Zuko gives an attempt to salvage it in the easiest way he could think of. Throw Sokka under the bus.
"That was very rude, Sokka," he said. His gaze moved briefly toward Sokka before returning forward. "Why should Aang have a say in what his wife chooses to wear?"
There was a pause before he continued, his voice lowering to soften the weight of what he was going to say.
"Besides..." he added, the word carrying a hesitation he did not fully understand, "I think she looked rather...beautiful."
The last word came slower than the rest, and though his expression remained composed, something in him had bloomed.
Katara had been correct in describing you.
Zuko's dilemma went unnoticed by everyone else, slipping beneath the surface without acknowledgment.
"Yeah, whatever," Sokka says, brushing off Zuko's scolding with an edge in his voice.
"I'm just saying, Aang, if people see the your wife walking around dressed like that, they're going to start talking. You're the Avatar for Spirit's sake! No one's even heard of her before, and suddenly she shows up with you looking like that? People are going to assume things."
He didn't stop there.
"They might think she just married you to—"
"I beg of you to stop talking!" Toph cut in loudly, her tone sharp not only from annoyance but also concern
She could feel it, the subtle rise of rage encircling the area where Aang was sitting. Sokka threw his hands up slightly, frustration quick to follow.
"Hey, I don't mean it in a bad way! I want what's best for him."
The words did not land the way he had intended them to.
Somewhere in Aang's mind, he knew that Sokka would be a challenge. He knew Sokka would not be accepting to your presence, always having been the sensible one in the team. But the horrible implications he made about you were too much.
Yes, he had expected for Sokka to be unwelcoming, but he didn't think he would stoop so low to imply something so vile.
Aang moved before he realized, words spewing from his mouth as he still fought to hold back his anger.
"My wife," he said, the words coming out sharp, an unfamiliar tone that did not belong in their usual conversations, "left her home for me."
He rose to his feet as he spoke, the motion slow as his presence shifted with it.
"She chose to come with me to a city she doesn't know, to be around people she's never met, and the only things she has from her home are what she brought with her."
Sokka unconsciously took a step back, and even though Aang was further away the distance was evidently closing.
"If she wants to wear them, she will," Aang continued, "And if she wants more, then I will give them to her."
He took another step forward.
"That's her choice," he said. "Hers. Not mine. And definitely not yours, Sokka."
The space between them closed completely, and Sokka watched the boy he once towered over meet him eye to eye, where he could see that he had definitely struck a huge nerve.
Toph was on her feet, stepping close, her hand lifting slightly just in case.
"Whoa, easy, Twinkle Toes," she said, her tone lighter than the tension warranted. "Sokka's just being Sokka. Don't let it get to you."
"Yes, Aang, he's talking nonsense," Katara added quickly as she shot her brother a sharp look.
Zuko remained where he was, silent.
"It didn't sound like nonsense to me," Aang said, and in a single motion that came as quick as lightning, his hand caught the front of Sokka's collar, gripping it firmly to pull him slightly off balance.
"Do we have a problem, Sokka?"
The man in question gritted his teeth, his brain telling him to end the fight and apologize, but instead he chose to bite back just as fiercely.
"Yeah," Sokka shot back, the restraint he had been holding slipping away. "I do have a fucking problem."
Aang’s face twisted more, but he let the older man continue, understanding this wasn’t something as shallow as about what you wore.
"You disappear without a word for months, and then you come back married?" His voice rose and the frustration in it no longer contained.
"We're your friends, Aang! We're supposed to be your closest friends. Don't you think that's something you should've mentioned?"
Aang's jaw tightened, his grip still firm. He heard what Sokka was saying, and as much as he understood the weight behind it, Sokka's previous words, the way you had been spoken about, refused to settle.
Neither of them moved. But then Katara stepped in, her hand pushing against Aang's arm.
"Aang, let him go."
Toph was already there beside her, offering her silent support.
He let go.
Sokka stumbled back half a step, adjusting his shirt with a quick, irritated motion, watching as Aang spoke.
"It just... happened," Aang said, his voice quieter now, though the edge remained beneath it. "I don't always have the time to send out a letter for every little thing."
"Every little thing?" Sokka repeated, disbelief cutting through the words. "You got married. How is that something little?"
"Stop it, Sokka," Katara said, but he didn't stop.
"No," Sokka said, shaking his head, the frustration still too close to the surface to be dismissed.
"I will be honest, Aang. I do not like your wife."
The words landed harder than anything else he had said before.
"I know you're hiding something," he continued, his voice lower now. "And you can't even be honest about it with your own friends."
Something in Aang snapped.
"Maybe," he said, "you should realize for once that you don't need to know everything!"
Sokka held his gaze for only a second longer before he let out a frustrated breath, the anger in him growing.
"Forget it." he muttered, turning away abruptly.
He didn't look back.
"Fuck this. I'm done."
He started walking down the slope without waiting for a response, his steps quick as he stopped for no one.
Katara hesitated only briefly, glancing back at Aang momentarily, before following Sokka, her hand catching Toph's arm and pulling her along with her despite the protests that came from it.
"Hey! I can walk on my own—"
And within moments, they were gone, leaving Aang and the Fire Lord behind.
The wind moved across the hill, filling the silence as it brushed through the grass.
Appa approached first, lowering his head to nudge against Aang in an attempt to cheer him up. Momo followed him, settling near him with a soft chirp before climbing closer, pressing himself to his side.
Aang did not move them away. He let himself settle onto the grass instead, the tension still present in his posture. His gaze remained fixed somewhere else, thoughts going haywire, wondering how quickly it all went downhill.
Beside him, Zuko lowered himself to sit as well. He did not press, did not interrupt, allowing Aang to process the situation at his own pace.
Time passed in silence for a while, then, eventually, Zuko spoke.
"I do not mean to pry," he began, his tone slightly tentative. "but is your wife of royal birth?"
The question was not meant to be intrusive, but it felt as though it was, so Aang did not answer immediately.
For a moment, there was only the wind again, moving through the space between them.
Then—
"Noble," he said.
Zuko nodded his head slightly, accepting the answer for what it was, though his thoughts did not stop there.
"From where?" he asked after a moment.
Aang's gaze did not shift.
"A smaller nation close to the Earth Kingdom."
The explanation ended there and Zuko didn't ask anything more.
He understood restraint well enough to recognize it in others, and whatever was unsaid, he let it remain that way. Aang wouldn't go to such lengths if it wasn't important.
"I hope that you can find it in yourself to forgive Sokka." Zuko said after a moment.
Aang's expression did not change, though is posture softened at the though of his oldest friend.
"Only if he apologizes," he replied.
"Well...yes. Of course." Zuko assured.
Evening settled in fully by the time they gathered again, the sky dimming into a softer hue that filtered through the open windows of Katara's home.
Everyone had arrived at six, just as promised.
All except Sokka.
You stood beside Aang and Zuko in the kitchen, your hands occupied with small tasks Katara had asked each of you to do, easily settling into the mood for preparation. Aang moved beside you, while Zuko did his best to assist.
In the living section of the room, Toph had claimed the couch entirely, stretched out without any concern.
The conversations moved easy enough. You weren't much involved in the talking part, and you hadn't notice the underlying conflict between the group.
By the time you glanced up again, the light outside had shifted further, and the absence of a certain someone was all too blaring.
"Will Sokka be joining us at eight after all?" you asked, your tone unassuming, though the question itself stilled the room.
The discussions through the room came to a halt, taking you off guard by the sudden silence.
Aang answered before anyone else could.
"Do not worry about Sokka," he said too quickly, and though the edge in his voice was subtle, it was enough to make you take note that something was wrong.
You turned slightly toward him, your hand lifting instinctively to rest against his arm.
"Is everything alright?"
"Mhm." He gave an unsure hum.
"What he means is, Sokka is—"
Katara began, but she did not finish.
The door opened.
"I'm here."
Sokka stepped in without ceremony, the spare key tossed carelessly onto the counter with a small clatter that cut through the air.
"Sorry I'm late," he added, already moving across the room, dropping himself onto the couch beside Toph, who barely shifted at his presence.
"I'm glad you could you make it, Sokka." You greeted politely, but got no response.
"Would you like to help us out?" You prodded yet again, only to be met with a—
"In a minute. I just got here."
His words shut you up as you frowned at his behavior. He was very unlike the Sokka Aang had once described to you.
"If you're just going to be lazy, then come back at eight." Aang's voice came sharp this time.
He swiftly turned his back to the living area as he moved toward the stove, focusing instead on the task in front of him.
The room stilled again.
You glanced between them, and after a brief pause, you simply stepped after Aang, returning to your place beside him, your hands resuming their quiet work, peeling through the peas with careful attention.
Katara watched for only a second longer before she exhaled softly.
"I'll be back," she said, and her gaze lingered on Aang for a moment before she turned away, stepping out of the kitchen and into the living area.
Zuko noticed the way the space between you and Aang had closed again, your voices lowering for something private, so he followed Katara's lead, stepping away to give you both some distance without making it obvious.
In the living area, Sokka leaned back against the couch, his earlier frustration still present beneath the surface.
Katara did not sit. She stood in front of him, her arms folding as her voice dropped.
"You need to apologize to him."
"I will," Sokka said, almost immediately, his voice riddled with guilt. "Of course I will."
There was a pause.
Then he added, "But you can't tell me you don't agree with me."
"I don't."
Zuko's voice cut in before Katara could respond.
"I think she is rather lovely."
Sokka let out a short, incredulous breath, turning toward him with a look that bordered on disbelief.
"Okay, stop with the compliments," he snapped. "It's weird coming from you."
Toph pushed herself up slightly on her elbows, a grin pulling at her expression.
"Oh, this is interesting," she said, her tone carrying that familiar edge of amusement. "Has Zuko taken an interest in the missus?"
"Nonsense," Zuko replied immediately. "I am stating what is obvious. They suit each other."
His gaze shifted then, drawn back toward the kitchen as the others followed.
Through the open space, they could see the two of you clearly. Aang standing close you, speaking in hushed whispers and big smiles.
Perhaps he says something funny, because you reached for him, your hand lifting to land a playful slap on his shoulder, only for him to catch it before it landed.
His fingers closed around yours as he brought your hand upward planting a kiss to the inside of your wrist.
Katara looked away first, and her gaze shifted sharply, her focus fixing elsewhere as she tries not to dwell on what she just saw.
"Come on, Zuko," she said. "We still have dinner to finish."
She did not wait for a response, already turning back toward the kitchen. Zuko followed shortly after, stepping away and leaving Toph and Sokka alone.
It was nightfall by the time dinner ended. The table had been cleared, dishes left soaking, and a bottle of wine had been opened for those who wanted it, though tonight it was only Toph and Zuko who indulged.
Sokka had declined, his reason simple. He wanted to keep a clear head for what he had to do.
He had to apologize.
So he stood outside on the balcony with Aang, the doors shut behind them, their voices muffled by the glass, leaving the rest of the house quieter.
You did not remain in the living area.
The unfamiliarity of his friends still remained, so when Aang stepped away, you excused yourself with the pretense of needing water. The kitchen welcomed you back as you sat upon the open counter, a glass in your hand.
Zuko noticed.
He had been seated in the living area, his attention divided between the balcony and you. Your absence had settled firmly in his awareness.
Katara and Toph remained focused on the figures outside, so he rose without announcement. The soft sound of his steps did not reach you until he was already there, a glass of wine held loosely in his hand.
"Do you not drink?"
His voice broke through your thoughts as you looked up, pulled back into the present.
"Oh...I used to, my father would allow me a couple sips during dinner." you said, smiling fondly at the memory, but instantly a scowl tainted your face, as though you had remembered something foul.
"I abstain now that I have married Aang." You ended, smile returning.
"Did he ask you to do that?"
"No," you answered. "I chose to. Out of respect for my husband's culture."
You weren't sure of the Fire Lord's motives in approaching you, but you decided to make the best of the situation.
"May I ask what happened between him and Sokka?" you questioned, your eyes meeting his in confidence. Zuko was sure you were examining for even the slightest nuance.
Zuko did not answer immediately, knowing it wasn't his place.
"I think it would be better if it came from Aang," he replied at last.
Your expression did not change.
"What difference does it make, Fire Lord Zuko, if you were the one to tell me?"
"The difference lies in trust," he said. "You may not take my words lightly if they come from me, and I would prefer that there be no unnecessary conflict between us."
"And you suspect there will be," you said, not as a question.
Zuko exhaled faintly.
"I believe there would be," he admitted. "Because unlike Aang, I would not soften what was said."
A small sound left you then, something close to a laugh but not entirely one.
"I may not have known Aang for as long you have, but even I know that Aang is not one to gain a temper against his friends so easily. At least, not anymore."
"You would be surprised at his younger self." He humors.
You chuckle, but your fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
"Then maybe you can tell me this," you continued, your voice lowering.
"Was the reason of their fight, me?"
Zuko hesitated.
"...You could say that."
"Was I insulted in my husband's presence?"
His silence was answer enough.
"Pray tell," you said, the calm in your voice almost poisonous. "what exactly was said?"
"Many things," he replied. "Things I would hope you take with a grain of salt, since it came from Sokka."
"Funny."
You did not remain where you were.
The glass was set aside, forgotten, as you stepped down from the counter, closing the distance until you stood before him, your gaze lifting to meet his.
"Aang spoke to me about you. I didn't even know he was friends with you until yesterday."
"That's surprising, considering everyone knows of the Avatar's feat of ending the 100 year war, including my involvement."
"I didn't think to connect the dots."
"Hmm."
"He told me about how you met. A very endearing story. The lengths one goes to for their honor."
Zuko couldn't tell if that was meant to mock him, but that phase of his life still remained something he was ashamed of, so the frown on his face was inevitable.
"Do not be upset. I didn't mean it as an insult. I'm only mentioning it because it's something I can agree with."
You clarify, setting the cup of water down onto the counter before continuing.
"Which is why I figure you will understand that," you paused, your voice steady as you finished your sentence. "My honor is not something I treat lightly. It is very dear to me."
You stepped even closer, the space between you narrowing until it left little room for anything else.
Zuko did not speak.
There was something in the way you held yourself despite the quiet fracture beginning to show, that felt familiar. It did not come from recognition of you, but from something he had once carried himself, something he had fought to reclaim.
Honor.
It wasn't just a word, it was once his purpose and now his treasure.
"I understand." he said.
Your composure faltered then. Your jaw tightened, you did not look away, and Zuko noticed there was a sheen to your eyes now.
"Do you really?" you asked.
"I do," Zuko answered. "But I also do not want you to turn against Sokka because of it. He is still Aang's closest friend."
"Perhaps he will not be for long."
Your response had come without any hesitation, and it stumped him.
You drew in a quiet breath, the tension pulling inward once more as you turned away. You grabbed the glass of water you set down, draining it in one motion before you started rinsing it with more force than necessary.
Behind you, Zuko remained still.
Until now, he had believed Sokka's concerns were rooted in something else. Namely, in the history between Aang and Katara. But standing there, watching the way your single statement had carried a genuine threat behind it, he began to see it differently.
Maybe, Sokka was not disappointed by the unwritten story of Aang and Katara.
Perhaps he feared what your presence would do to the group, because he saw something in you the others failed to see.
Zuko returned to the living area and he noticed you leaving the kitchen in the same moment, your movement quick, and he assumed you had gone in search of some quiet corner of the house.
By the time he seated himself again, the balcony doors had opened.
Aang and Sokka stepped back inside together, the earlier tension between them no longer sharp, though it was not entirely gone. After all, Aang may forgive, but he was not one to forget easily.
Zuko's scanned their dejected faces, so to lighten the mood he jokes—
"Were you both crying?" he asked.
"No, we were not!" Aang and Sokka answered at once, their voices overlapping in perfect unison, and for a brief moment, something familiar surfaced between them.
Laughter followed, and it felt like they were all kids again.
Aang's attention shifted soon after, his gaze moving across the room before settling into a small frown.
"Where is she?" he asked.
Zuko leaned back slightly. "She stepped out. I believe she went to find the restroom."
Aang's expression tightened just a fraction. "I don't think she knows where it is."
"She's a big girl," Toph said from the couch. "She'll figure it out."
"I can go check," Katara offered, already stepping forward.
Aang stopped her before she could take another step. His hand caught her arm gently, halting her movement. Her breath hitched, the reaction subtle as her resistance dissolved beneath Aang's touch.
"I'll go," he said instead. He did not wait for a response before turning, already moving out of the room in search of you.
In his haste, he did not notice what had slipped loose. It was Katara who saw it first, her gaze dropping toward the floor just after he had disappeared from view.
"His emblem—" She pointed.
The small piece lay near where he had stood, the Air Nomad symbol detached. Zuko reached for it before anyone else could, his fingers closing around it with care.
"I'll bring it to him," he said, stepping away from the others, the emblem held loosely in his hand, as he moved through the unfamiliar layout of the house, turning once, then again.
And then he found you both.
He stopped before either of you noticed him.
You both stood close, your hands pressed against Aang's chest, your fingers curled slightly into the fabric. Aang's hands rested at back as his arms engulfed you.
Zuko stepped back instinctively, retreating into the shadow of the wall, turning his gaze away even he remained where he was, his presence hidden.
He did not watch.
He listened.
A soft sound broke through the quiet as you pulled away, your voice following after.
"Why won't you just tell me?" you asked, the words catching at the edges. "What did Sokka say?"
Aang did not answer, and the silence went on with the occasional break of your sniffles, enough to confirm what had not been said.
"Zuko said he insulted me. Did you just forgive him for it?" you pressed, your voice breaking slightly.
"...Not exactly—"
"It's a yes or no question," you cut in, sharper now, though the hurt beneath it did not lessen. "Tell me, what did he say, Aang?"
"Please stop crying," Aang whispered as you pulled you into a hug yet again. "I'll tell you everything once we're home."
You sobbed against his chest, your breath uneven, before you braced yourself for your next words.
"Did...did you tell Sokka about...what happened...—"
"I would never!" He exclaimed softly, pulling away slightly so he could meet your eyes. "I would never disrespect you like that, I promise you."
"But Sokka did, didn't he? And I consider you forgiving him is just as disrespectful."
"I forgave him because he was sincere with his apology. Sokka is not someone who acts on his feelings like that."
"How is that meant to justify anything."
"It means, whatever was said about you was his anger directed at me."
There was a pause after his statement, shifting your eyes from his as you closed them shut.
Your grip on him tightened, inhaling softly to you ease your emotions.
"It seems my presence has caused a lot of harm. And it's only been a day."
"It is not your fault. My friends felt deceived because I didn't tell them about you. I chose to stay silent."
You knew Aang meant well, but you were taking his words at face value.
"...I feel as though I have trapped you. I should have never agreed—"
"You are the best thing that has happened to me. I know it may not have seemed like it in the beginning, but I do not regret asking you to marry me. I never will."
His tone softened further as his hands lifted, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had already fallen.
"I am sorry that you've been having a hard time around my friends."
Even though he didn't need to, his apology was reassuring, and you shook your head with a smile.
"It's alright. It shows how much they care for you."
At your words he smiles, thumbs brushing your cheeks.
"Let me take you home. I'll explain everything."
You nod, head tilting back as he leaned closer for a kiss. The kiss was not brief. It was deep and vulnerable, the shine of tears still tracing your cheeks.
Then there was nothing more.
Zuko did not stay. He stepped away as quietly as he had arrived, your conversation left behind him.
When he returned to the others, Katara noticed his failed excursion immediately, eyes dropping to the emblem still in his hand.
"You couldn't find him?" she asked.
Zuko glanced down at the emblem, then back at her.
"No." he said calmly. "I'm sure he will return for it."
chapter three
a/n: fair warning, this story will have darker themes in the future. my vision for this story is very straightforward and to the point, so yes, the characters may seem ooc at times. but i gotta do it for the plot. just promise me, no one will hate on the actual characters, okay?
Synopsis: When it is decreed that she must marry her brother, Maekar Targaryen’s eldest daughter chooses to break the rules and flee with her true love.
The twilight painted the castle gardens in shades of violet as the wind stirred the silk curtains. With the window left slightly ajar, Maekar’s eldest daughter gazed out at the horizon, calmly watching the orange hues fade while the first stars began to awaken across the night sky.
Summerhall, her home, was a beautiful castle surrounded by hills and small groves that vanished into the distance. Tucked away from the world, it had originally been conceived as a retreat for the Targaryens to escape the entanglements of the court, yet it now seemed incapable of keeping them at bay.
Two weeks earlier, a message had arrived from the Red Keep, in which her grandfather, Daeron II, approved his youngest son’s proposal to marry her to Aerion. The decision came as an unexpected blow, for she held no interest in him and felt nothing but repulsion. Casting him from the top of a tower seemed a far more fitting fate for someone so despicable, far from any altar.
Baelor said that one should love one’s siblings, but such teachings from the septas held little weight against Brightflame’s cruelty. Of the king’s four sons, none possessed a particularly difficult nature, making it hard for her uncle to understand what it meant to be forced into a union with a man of such darkness.
If Maekar’s intent was to keep the bloodline within the family, even Daeron would have been the more sensible choice. The man lived devoted to wine and visions, making him a far more manageable fate, lacking any violent nature. Nevertheless, none of those unions would have brought her happiness, for her heart had belonged to another prince since childhood.
Valarr Targaryen, second in line to the Iron Throne and her beloved cousin, had won her heart without ever meaning to. By any measure, he was the perfect man, though her affection had taken root long before he became the admirable young lord so widely praised by the nobility.
That devotion was forged in childhood, when, for reasons neither could explain, they were always drawn to one another. Family gatherings, royal duties, or court events became opportunities to spend as much time together as possible. At first, they played like any other children, but as the years passed, fleeting touches and lingering glances began to betray an interest that went beyond mere kinship.
Finally, one afternoon in the library of Dragonstone, as they waited to be called to supper, what they felt came to light. Valarr pointed to an old passage in a worn leather-bound tome, explaining with enthusiasm the details of a past conquest, unaware that the young woman’s attention was slipping under the weight of his closeness. The space between them on the settee was minimal, and every brush became a constant temptation to close the distance, though she did not dare cross the line for fear of making him uncomfortable.
For that reason, she forced herself to remain composed and focused on the story. Hoping to appear attentive and engaged, she reached out a hand to help hold the book, misjudging the length of her fingers as they came to rest over his. She immediately flinched and withdrew with a soft apology, the sudden movement causing their legs to brush against each other.
Valarr fell silent, noticing the deep flush on her cheeks and the way she looked at him with quiet nervousness. In an instant, the text lost all meaning, and the air grew heavy, thick with an unspoken confession that throbbed, desperate to break free. Somehow, with memories blurred by the intensity of the moment, the distance between them closed until their shared breath turned into a kiss. That single gesture sealed their fate beneath the shadows of the shelves, transforming childhood closeness into an unbreakable devotion.
From that moment on, whenever protocol allowed them to draw close, their hands would find each other in silent complicity, and kisses would bloom far from any prying eyes. The distance that separated them weighed heavily, and so the letters they exchanged became the only solace for the longing that consumed their patience through such prolonged separation.
Both were dutiful children and trusted that, when the time came, they would be able to ask their parents for permission to be together. However, they had not accounted for Maekar having plans of his own, as he had never shown any sign of hastening to find her a husband.
Thanks to that blind trust, the news proved devastating, so much so that the physical toll left her bedridden for two days. Despair consumed her, and she wept without knowing what to do, until, unexpectedly, she found a note from Valarr beneath her pillow, putting an end to her anguish. How it had come to be there, she did not know, but what mattered was the promise written by the prince, who swore to love her and assured her he would never give her to another man. His determination was palpable, and for the first time, both were willing to break the rules, to flee and defy the royal decree.
As if it were any ordinary day, she went about her routine, spending time with the younger members of the family, indulging them with the certainty that, by the next dawn, they would no longer find her in Summerhall. She even dined with Maekar, the man who, without knowing it, had upended her life and driven her to such a drastic decision. Afterward, she sought the solitude of her chambers and prepared a small bag that would accompany her through the adventures and hardships she was soon to face.
With a hint of nostalgia, she looked over her belongings, a few tears slipping free at the thought of everything she was leaving behind. Even so, she was certain of what she wanted and of the suffering that would come from simply going along with it. So when the moment came, she did not hesitate to gather her things and set off along the planned route, leaving that castle behind for good.
Breathless and wary of making any noise, she stepped carefully onto the grass on the other side of the wall, moving forward until the snort of a horse startled her. Instinctively, a hand flew to her chest as she made her way toward the sound, for there was only one person who could be hiding beside that animal at such an hour.
“Valarr,” she whispered in relief, a bright smile lighting up her face.
Cloaked from head to toe, the young man stopped stroking one of the two horses and turned to face her. The dim light did little to hide the intensity of his gaze or the warmth that radiated from their long-awaited meeting beneath the stars.
“My love,” he replied softly, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I finally have you.”
“We were apart for far too long,” she whispered, resting her chin in the curve of his neck as her eyes slipped closed.
“I know,” he murmured, brushing a hand along her back before pulling away. “If it were up to me, we’d stay like this forever, but there’s no time to lose. We have to go.”
Understanding the gravity of the situation if they were discovered, she nodded and pressed a brief kiss to his lips before setting off. The sudden gesture left Valarr dazed for a few seconds, but he quickly helped her onto the mare before mounting his own horse, the one he had ridden to get there.
“We’ll walk first so the sound of the hooves doesn’t alert anyone. Once we’re far enough, we’ll start to gallop,” he said, taking the lead.
With a silent nod, she adjusted her grip on the reins, mirroring Valarr’s cautious pace through the vegetation surrounding the walls. The tension of being discovered kept her senses sharp, turning every rustle into a potential threat until the distance from Summerhall was enough to pick up speed. They rode on in silence, focused on gaining ground and leaving everything behind, exchanging fleeting glances to make sure the other could keep up. At last, when the horses began to breathe heavily, they slowed their pace to catch their breath.
“You said you had everything planned, that I shouldn’t worry, but where are we going?”
“I spoke with my mother’s family. We’ll stay a few days at Blackhaven, stock up on supplies while we decide where to go next. By the time word of your escape reaches them and they connect it to my disappearance during the ‘hunting trip’ I arranged, we’ll already be gone.”
“So you’re supposed to be out in some forest with a group of knights, hunting down a beast to bring back as a trophy?” she asked with a faint, lopsided smile, her eyelids growing heavy as sleep began to take hold.
“Correct. I’ve calculated the days carefully, and I believe we’ll be able to leave the Dondarrions behind before they decide to lock us up and proclaim themselves saviors of the realm for capturing the fugitives.”
She sighed and nodded, her gaze drifting back to the landscape, where in the distance the sky was beginning to lighten. The colors of dawn washed over the hills as the silhouette of Summerhall was finally swallowed by the distance, marking a point of no return in their journey into the unknown.
“They’ll never stop looking for us, especially my father. He has experience leading expeditions in search of a lost child,” she said, a weight settling in her chest at the thought of the stress it would cause him.
“We can send letters to let them know we’re safe, but I have no intention of going back anytime soon. I want to live and explore with you, enjoy it, and then build a family. Once we’re married and have children, no one will be able to tear us apart.” He smiled faintly as the breeze stirred his hair.
“Marriage?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, a spark of excitement stirring at the thought of being joined to him.
“Of course. Our children won’t be bastards. They’ll have a father and a mother who love each other and are bound before the gods,” he said, meeting her gaze with a glint in his eyes.
“I’ve always wanted a wedding true to our roots, not one in keeping with the Faith of the Seven.”
“I know. I remember you mentioned it the last time we saw each other, and it will be so,” he said with a nod, a hint of light in his expression at the mere thought of it. “In fact, we’ll do it today, when we reach the place I chose.”
“So soon?” she laughed, pleased, a flutter in her stomach chasing away the last traces of fatigue.
“I won’t make any more mistakes. This way, no one will ever separate us again.”
The conviction in Valarr’s voice left her captivated as she studied the beautiful lines of his profile. Under the golden light of dawn, the prince’s features seemed carved with a determination she had never seen before.
Feeling as though she was falling in love all over again, she followed him with trust as the sun rose higher in the sky. They made brief stops to drink water and eat what he had gathered on his way to Summerhall, taking the chance to exchange small gestures of affection without fear of being seen by anyone they knew.
Finally, past midday, ruins appeared beyond a green hill, covered in grass that swayed with the wind. Valarr stopped and pointed to the weathered stones, where nature was beginning to reclaim what had once been an imposing structure. In that forgotten corner of the Seven Kingdoms, the surroundings seemed to whisper blessings in a language only they could understand, as if preparing the ground for the rite that would bind them together forever.
“I’ve brought what we need to see this through. It won’t be luxurious, but at least it will be a true wedding, chosen by us, without any impositions,” Valarr said as he unstrapped a bag from his horse.
Moving closer, he set the bag down on a broken stone table and spread a red cloth with golden details. He then placed two cases of different sizes and opened them, allowing her to take in their contents. In the larger one, a golden chalice gleamed, carved with a mastery that evoked the past glory of their house, while in the other rested a dagger with an engraved hilt.
“Where did you get this?” she asked, awestruck, her fingers brushing over the engraved details.
“I borrowed them from the relics office,” he said with a smile that made it clear he had, in fact, taken them without asking. “They’re the same ones Daemon and Rhaenyra used in their time.”
The woman pulled her hand back for a moment, astonished by the historical weight of the objects. These were not simple tools, but fragments of an era when dragons still soared through the skies and the will of their bloodline knew no bounds. According to the records, the couple had been the last to marry under Valyrian tradition, and now they were reviving that legacy to seal their own fate.
“This is incredible,” she breathed, a shiver running through her skin.
“Shall we begin?”
Valarr stepped forward until he stood only inches away, where the heat of their bodies mingled with quiet tension. He took the blade and held it for a moment in silence, waiting for her to nod and confirm she was ready.
At her nod of approval, he lifted her hand and carefully made a firm cut across the palm. Blood welled up at once, thick and dark, running down into the chalice she held. Without hesitation, they exchanged the objects, and she repeated the gesture, opening a wound just as deep.
Following the ancient rite, they pressed their wounded palms together. The heat of their lifeblood mingling became an electric sensation that ran up their arms and into their hearts. With a faint smile, Valarr raised the chalice and drank without taking his eyes off her, feeling both their pulses quicken.
“Blood of my blood,” he whispered, handing her the chalice.
With reverence, she brought the gold to her lips and drank, making sure to leave nothing behind. The thick warmth descended through her throat like a promise, binding her forever to the man who held her hand firmly.
“Blood of my blood,” she repeated with a sigh, setting the object aside beside the dagger.
The man took her by the waist and drew her closer, letting their joined hands rest against their racing hearts. The blood still dripping to the ground now darkened their clothes, but it mattered little, for it would serve as proof and memory of their long-awaited union.
“Now we are one before the gods,” the prince said, sealing their union with a kiss that tasted of iron.
The emotion of the moment was overwhelming, and tears of joy escaped her as she laughed in the midst of their passionate exchange. Valarr followed her lead, smiling as he pressed his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her fevered skin beneath the scorching sun.
In that forgotten corner, the pain of the cut became the foundation of their new freedom, binding their destinies in a way no law of the Seven Kingdoms could ever dissolve.
Summary: You forgive Dennis for leaving a bite mark on your arm and you also protect him in a critical moment with a patient.
Pairing: Dennis Whitaker X CN!reader (Charge nurse)
CW/TW: Established relationship, inaccurate medical terms, mention of drugs, guns, Car accident, assault *not proof read (SORRY)
AN: HEY Y’ALL HEYYYY, quick author's note- you can skip if needed! FIRST a quick thank you for all the likes and comments. I didn't think this would do well at all lol! I am so glad you guys enjoyed it. Here is part two! This one is kinda long… I think I went a little crazy. If you think I should keep this going lmk, feel free to send me your ideas! I will do my best to get to them, if any of you choose to do so. I didn't proofread so I am sorry lol! That's it… TANK YOUS!
Part 1 ! Part 2
You smile back sheepishly at the faces staring at you. The buzz of the trauma center has returned to normal but you have not.
“Yes,” you finally choked out. Nodding your head, you continued “Whitaker was... the kid”
“Is he?-”
“Yes, he is Mr. Blue... My boyfriend” You respond to princess happily shrugging your shoulders.
"How the fuck did I not know?!" Santos expressed with her arms crossed, leaning back against her chair. “I live with Huckleberry?”
The shock that had you in a choke hold found its way out of your body, With your breaking news settling in you start to feel a new mix of emotions, a sense of anxiety, and guilt.
Guilt that you and Dennis never told them.
Guilt that they found out when Dennis wasn't with you.
Nervous for the rapid question about to come your way — oh god, you were not ready for their questions.
You and Dennis didn't mind if they found out, but you imagined this interaction to play out with both of you present, not just you.
Now that Perlah and princess know, it is bound for this new hot and steamy gossip to spread like wildfire. While you and Dennis never cared or felt ashamed about your relationship, the fact that they now know changes things. You started to get a little overwhelmed thinking about it.
Their rapid questions had already started, not helping the overwhelming feeling that lingered. They fired mostly "how" and "when" questions at you.
Subconsciously, your eyes drifted to the room Dennis got called into. You needed to talk to him.
"Hey! alright cut it out" Dana stood up from her chair, standing between you and the rapid QA.
"Your questions are overwhelming, go do something" Her glare towards them was fierce but the group only halted, still looking at you for answers to their unresolved questions.
"You can take charge of a WHOLE trauma center without feeling overwhelmed but you can't answer a few questions?!" Santos asked trying to peer over Dana's shoulder.
"ugh yes... hehe?" you nervously laughed, quickly logging out of your computer and standing up.
Leaving the group behind with speed, you made your way into the room Dennis was in. Your hands shook a little as you opened the door. Dennis stood at the head of the bed his focus on intubating the patient.
You checked the patient's vitals before speaking. Robby smiled at you as you stepped to his side.
" Their vitals are good” he whispered to you, “The patient was sedated and is now in the process of being intubated." he updated you.
You nodded your head and updated him on the outside status "No other incoming traumas at the moment"
"Nice" His voice slightly high-pitched when he responds, His tone making you smile.
"Dr. Whitaker a word please" you called out watching as Dennis propped open the patient's mouth.
"What's wrong blue?" his focus never broke from the patient as he called out to you, something about this scene in front of you made you feel tingling throughout your body.
Stuck in your daze, it was only a matter of seconds before he was finished and looking up at you. His face and eyes that once tightly held focus were now softening at the sight of you. It was very subtle but you noticed it right away.
You didn't say anything, not wanting to draw dramatic attention anymore. You nodded your head back, signaling you wanted to talk outside the room. He nods, following you.
"Ohhh, Dr. Whitaker is going to get yelled at by one of our charge nurses. How bad do you think he fucked up?" Langdon poked at childishly.
Robby shook his head at Langdon, "Just be lucky it isn't you this time" he said causing Langdon's smile to drop. A shivering memory of the last time he got yelled at by you ran down his spine.
You walked into an empty room on the far side of the ED, away from the vultures lingering near the command center.
Softly you closed the door when Dennis walked in, "What's wrong?" he asked as soon as he heard the door click
"They know Den" you pressed your back against the door pushing on it as if you were trying to prevent someone from getting in.
"w-what?" He made his way to the light switch behind the curtain, unaware that you were now tracking right behind him.
"How though??" his voice squeaked turning around only to find you very close to him, your pointer finger instantly stabbed into his chest, not with enough force to hurt him.
He stumbled back from how close the two of you were, his back hitting the wall as you took another step closer.
"Because of you!" you whisper-shout. He pouted at your words, looking confused he leaned his head down and pointed at himself for some sort of clarification.
"ME? What did I do?" he asked softly, a little panic laced in his voice.
"You. BIT. me! Why did you bite me that hard last night?" You turn slightly pulling your left arm sleeve up, showing him the bruised teeth marks.
"shit!" He exclaimed, gently taking your arm in his hands, "I am so sorry, my love" his cheeks reddened but all he felt was guilt. He leaned down and kissed the mark, You pout feeling comfort in his actions.
"My angel, I am so sorry. I- I didn't mean to" he said, guilty eyes meeting yours, he looked down and shook his head.
Your heart hurts seeing the disappointment and guilt slowly take over his expression. Gently, you raise your hand to the side of his face, caressing his cheek, you watch as he melts into your hand.
"It's okay, I am okay" you say. You explain to him that Santos saw the bite on your arm before he came in and that was why you were glaring at him. You tell him that when he left his apple on the counter, Santos had somehow compared the bite from his apple and your arm. Rambling about how you kind of felt like it was a setup and then spiraling about how much things are going to change.
"This doesn't change anything, I don't care that they know. Baby, I am more concerned that I bruised you this badly...Let me check your iron levels and-" Dennis rambled, messaging the area and feeling around it.
"Den I am okay... really, I am" you say, taking a hold of his hands and pulling them away from your arm.
" And yes, it does!" you whisper dramatically, "it changes many things, right now they are going to interrogate us like the FBI. Then they are going to watch and dissect every interaction we have!”
"It will be okay" he smiles at your antics, trying his best to reassure you. He let go of your hands and started to pat down the sides of your hair.
"Are you upset that they know?" he asked looking into your eyes, his hands staying on the side of your head, gently holding it. You lean into him, feeling your familiar comfort space.
"No, definitely not" you hum, "I actually feel a little relieved in a way? - I don't know how to explain it?"
"Then everything will be okay" he said gently, " yes, they are going to act like the FBI with us but just give them time. They will lose interest in us the second something new comes up. Don't stress yourself out about the change"
You nod your head, knowing everything he said is true.
"You're right, thank you Denny" You smile, he leaned your head forward and kisses your hairline. Your anxiety calmed, Dennis always knew what to say to you.
He let go of your head and let his hands fall to both sides of your arms giving them a gentle squeeze.
"now please let me check your bruises out. I am so sorry - I really didn't mean to bite you that hard"
"Den I forgive you, no more apologizing. We had fun last night anyways" You smile at him, giving him a little wink, Slight blush crept onto his cheeks "I am okay, it doesn't even-" you pause, feeling your work phone vibrate. You frantically search for it, forgetting what scrub pocket you put it in.
"PTMC charge nurse blue" you answer the phone when you find it, stepping back from Dennis.
"Go ahead medic command" you say into the phone
"Four-car collision, six victims. one pedestrian, one infant, one teen driver, three adult drivers. First victims are 8 minutes out, the rest following right behind" You rush to the door.
"Thanks " you say hanging up. "Four car collision, let's go" Dennis follows quickly with your foot steps, his Right hand to his chest securing his stethoscope.
Before you open the door you look up at Dennis giving him a firm nod.
"We got this" he says reassuring you.
"Thank you" you say one last time before pushing the door open.
"Four-car collision, six victims. We need 5 rooms open and someone for peds. We have an infant and a teen driver victim. 7 minutes out or sooner" you yell out rushing to the command center of the ED.
Dana nods her head at you, standing up. "Come on people lets go! Discharge anyone we can right now, let's try to clear up some rooms. Move patients into the hallways if you need to" she directed, pointing people in multiple directions.
"I need all my doctors to finish up checking on their current patients and be ready for incoming trauma. We don't know what condition these people are coming in"
“Whitaker, your Med students are late? What the hell?!” Dana yelled
Dennis looked up at Robby, who was already looking at him. He gave him an apologetic look, frantically looking around to see Dana eyeing Ogilvie and joy who were walking out of the hallway where the lockers are.
Dennis inhaled deeply, slowly exhaling. Your boyfriend, the most patient person on the planet was starting to grow bothered with a certain med student. You watch his shoulders tense a little, and how he tries to relax them with a shrug and quick neck roll. You wish you could help at the moment but there was nothing you could do.
“Its okay” you whisper, “let Robby handle this.”
He nods, watching as Robby rubs his hands together and then presses them on his faces
“This is a trauma center, trauma doesn’t care what time it is. Our job is to be here on time and help people as soon as they come in. You can’t fulfill those needs if you are coming in super late. Please be on time next time, Javadi is here bright and early every day, she’s still a med student. Time management saves both us and the patient, am I clear?” Robby says to them, wordlessly they nod their heads.
“Incoming trauma lets go” he shouts as the first two patients get rolled in. On top of the gurney was a woman holding her baby. The woman had blood on the side of her head and body. The baby didn’t seem to have any blood or cuts on them, but they were crying frantically— most likely from stress.
“Jane, 28-year-old female, seat belt bruises, rib fractures, possible concussion, and multiple glass lacerations. Cory 10, month old male, seatbelt bruises and a head bump from his car seat...” One of the medics says, listing off the injuries and medication they had provided on their way.
Robby ran up, putting on some gloves, Mel followed right behind him. They introduce themselves, quickly starting their assessments while the medics continue to push the gurney out of the way.
instantly another gurney gets pushed in, "Chan, 18-year-old male. Head hit pretty bad, open head wound, possible concussion, very disoriented. Complaint of lower chest to rib pain, became agitated on the way over" The medic pushing from the head on the gurney.
Dennis was the first to greet this patient, you followed closely behind. Ogilvie watched you, flowing behind as well. The side of your eye glances at him before glancing at the ambulance bay doors. You see two police officers walking towards the doors, most likely coming to take statements.
Dennis is at the side of the gurney trying to walk with it. The medic stops in the middle of the ED so Dennis and you can make a quick assessment.
"Chan, I'm going to have to cut your pants, okay?" you say grabbing the clothing scissors, starting to cut at the left side of his pant leg. You don't even get four cuts in before the scissors are flung out of your hand. The patient had kicked both of his legs, yelling as he did so. Pain shot through your right hand that was holding the scissors.
"Get the fuck off me" he said lunging forward reaching for the bottom of his left leg.
"Chan" Dennis said, "We are trying to help, I am going to need you to calm down or we will have to sedate you"
Dennis nodded his head at Ogilvie, silently signaling to help restrain the patients. They both hold the patient against the bed, and he starts to calm down after hearing he will be sedated.
You look up at your boyfriend waiting for confirmation to continue, he gives you a nod. His hands firmly hold down the patient, biceps flaring at you with his stance. The back of your mind internally screams at the sight while you are in action.
Pushing it away, you look up at Ogilvie noticing his force on the patient is much less than Dennis's since the patient has calmed down.
You reach for the ends of his pants again, this time ripping the fabric with your hands since your scissors slide across the room. At the same moment, the patient jerked, yelling for everyone to get off him. You took a step back in time when he started kicking his feet again. He lunged again with more force this time, easily freeing himself from Ogilvie's restraints reaching for the same area.
Through the ripped flaps of his pant leg, you saw it. The gun now peeked out of the opening. It was strapped just above the ankle.
“GUN! Everyone get down! DOWN!” you yell
You head the room gasp, the sound of shuffling and footsteps was heard. In the quick second you had, you watched as nurses and doctors crouched behind desks and stations. For the side of the patient, Ogilvie dropped down along with the medic who was still at the back of the patient's head, hiding behind the gurney. Dennis at the other side of the patient continue to try to restrain the teen, desperately because you were directly in the most dangerous spot possible at the moment.
Everything felt like it was in slow motion, but in reality, it was not. You did not crouch or stand down, you reached for the gun at the same time the patient was reaching for it. Through your peripheral vision, you saw the two officers running through the double doors of the ambulance bay.
They would not get to you in time, you needed to act now. If you go to take cover he could easily turn to Dennis and open fire, you could not let that happen.
The patient was quicker than you, his hands gripped the gun, drawing it. You followed his speed, your hands gripping his on the gun quickly you found the button to drop the fully loaded magazine.
You watched as the magazine dropped onto the gurney. Hastily, you swiped it off with your free hand letting it clink to the ground, and sliding across the ED floor.
One officer assisted Dennis, restraining the patient fully. While the other officer ran to your side, snatching the now unloaded handgun from the patient's grip.
Ogilvie peered from behind, looking at you in awe. Dennis was pale, during that moment his blood ran cold. He felt frozen unaware of what to think or do. His face remained expressionless.
The gun was pointed at you, you were in direct line of fire… he could have lost you. Emotions flashed through him, instantly he felt rage toward the person lying on the gurney for putting him girlfriends life in danger. He pushed down harder on the patient.
Robby ran up with a syringe, stress written all over his face.
“Why would you do that?!” The officer with the handgun yelled at you. Dennis snapped his head up, glaring at the back of her head.
“All clear” she said, looking around and back at you.
You ignore her, pushing past her to try and help with the patient now that Robby had administered a sedative. The patient’s resistance slowly decreased until he lay limp on the bed.
You take place next to Dennis when pushing the gurney to a room.
“Are you okay?” he asked, you look up at him and nod.
You don’t regret what you did, you felt it was the right thing. You’re supposed to take care of the team, without a doubt, you are going to do that even if it means risking your own life. You could not let anything happen to them especially Dennis.
Robby cleared his throat masking you look up at him. You guys had just parked the Gurney in a room, the team worked moving under and over each other. He had a certain look to his face, nudging his head towards the doors, his way of asking about what had happened outside a few seconds ago.
“What? Abbot taught me… and I am fine” You were not entirely fine, you were confident in your action but still shaken up and scared even. You felt a little vulnerable when you really thought about a fully loaded gun being pointed at you- AND being in front of your boyfriend. ‘I am fine’ was all you could say before focusing on your work to drown the thoughts out, Robby shook his head.
The rest of the trauma patients from the car accident settled in. When there was a second to spare Dennis made his way to you.
For the first time at work, not caring who was in the room, he hugged you- tight. He closed his eyes, relieved he is able to still hug you and feel you wrap your arms around him, he gets to feel you melt into his arms. You really needed the hug but you assured him you were fine. He asked if you were okay checking around your head, you nodded your head, ignoring the pain in your non-dominant hand from where the 18-year-old had kicked you.
You didn't want to tell him, you had other things to worry about. You and Dana were busy trying to get everything settled for the night shift.
The moment ended quickly since your intern got called into a room by Robby. Dennis walked into the room, looking back at you before closing the door.
He and Robby were checking on the sedated 18-year-old. His labs and scans came back. In the corner of the room, standing guard was the police officer who had yelled at you. Dennis scowled at her before going to the patient to check his pupils.
The other officer who had assisted Dennis with holding down the patient walked into the room. Dennis looked up at him, they gave each other a tight nod.
“Chan has a warrant out for his arrest under multiple charges. DUI, auto theft, assault charges against women and a peace officer, and failure to show up to court. Based on the statements he was the cause of the pile-up today” The officer walked over to Robby and handed him the patient's wallet.
Dennis peered over Robby's shoulder, looking at the lab's results. He felt his blood start to boil, slightly angered about the information and test results they got back.
“Drug test is positive for fentanyl” Robby said looking up at the officers. They shook their head, eyes focused on the teen lying peacefully in the hospital bed.
Dennis analyzed the sleeping body, noticing the way his chest inflated and deflated. A small twitch in the hand caught his attention, he looked at Robby who seemed to have noticed too.
Robby made eye contact with Dennis, handing him the tablet to list off the other results.
“Positive for fentanyl… head staples, a concussion, and a few broken ribs” Dennis spoke, side eyeing the teen and looking harshly at one of the police officers.
“He will make a full recovery, hard to say for the other patients” Your boyfriend shut the tablet off, hitting the side of it against his palm. He looked up at Robby, silently communicating that he is ready to leave. “His Sedative should be wearing off soon”
He took one last look at the 18-year-old, clenching his jaw before looking up at the officer who yelled at You
“Keep him Cuffed to the bed” he said through his teeth, voice stern with authority, harshly pointing to the criminal.
He walked towards the door, Robby following behind. He was about to open the door when he heard Robby speak.
“Oh- ugh officer?” Robby said, both officers looked up at him, “Don't ever yell at my charge nurses, or any of my doctors and nurses again.”
The two officers looked at each other, one glaring at the other. Dennis and Robby left the room without another word.
The shift pretty much wrapped up after that, the night shift rolled in but all the day shift people stayed late to finish up their charting.
You sat with McKay, who was playing with your fingers while asking for your help in choosing the right words for her chart.
You sat backwards in your chair, your knees pressed against the backrest of the chair, and your back pressed against your desk.
Dennis sat at the computer across from you, keeping an eye on you. Being with you for so long he can tell when you are masking and right now he can tell that you are. He knows you want nothing more than to be home, wrapped in his arms.
Tonight he will go home to you and stay with you, He needs to make sure you're okay. Beneficial for both you and him, he feels he won't be okay with himself if he is separated from you.
The image of the gun being pointed at you is taunting him, the dread he felt, the feeling of thinking he was about to see you get shot still lingered.
He typed faster, just wanted to clock out and take you home already, your weekend should have started two hours ago.
Also, because Ogilvie has been giving you the googly eyes, it is starting to pinch a nerve in him. After a traumatic day, neither of you needed that right now.
Jack Abbot approached your desk with a tight smile, your back was facing him as you chatted with McKay. He leaned his weight onto the counter, peering over it a little and clearing his throat to get your attention.
Instead of turning your body you tilt your head back to peer behind you.
“Jack!” you smile, turning your whole body, now sitting properly on the chair.
“Ugh… I just got yelled at because of you. Don't ‘Jack!’ me” he said mimicking you. His voice held no venom just dramaticism.
“I just got told about your little hero stunt” he said with a smile leaning forward, “Good job kid” Pride filled his words, You smiled at him.
That smile didn't last long before he spoke again, “and I heard through the grapevine who Mr. Blue is… How come you didn't tell me?!?” he paused looked around, “Of all people!”
McKay twisted her head at Abbot, “Hey” she gasped dramatically.
Abbot ignored her, waving his hand off at her before directing his focus on Dennis. Who had obviously been listening.
“You better treat her well Whitaker” he said, pointing firmly at him.
Your boyfriend looked at him and then at you with an eyebrow raise, you laughed shaking your head.
“Abbot, you're two years too late for that talk” you laugh holding your hand up at him.
He was about to say something else before Robby appeared behind him. He looks at you and Dennis before pointing at the two of you, “With me now” he says before walking away.
You and Dennis look at each other before standing up quickly following behind Robby's long strides. Leaving your coworkers to stop what they are doing to speculate.
You made it to robbys make shift office, which Gloria had gifted him, The two of you sit down in front of his desk.
“I have a couple of things I want to run by you two” he started with
“First the two of you-” Your boyfriend cut him off.
“I'm sorry, we didn't tell you about our relationship! We just wanted to keep it private and we didn't want to make it such a big deal, we don't want this to affect our work. If it's too much… I can transfer just keep her here please” he rambled continuing to talk, you looked at home shocked by his offer.
Robby scoffed out a small laugh, “Whitaker stop” he says cutting Dennis off.
Dennis nods his head and closes his mouth. Nervously, he fidgeted with the hems on his scrubs. You nervously bit your lip, bouncing your leg on the ground.
“Your relationship is a topic to discuss but that isn't the important one. You've been together for a while already both working here and no one noticed. That only shows me you both are fully capable, I just need you two to sign an HR paper for safety measures. No one is leaving or transferring, I am not losing a doctor or one of my charge nurses without a fight” Robby reassured, gently waving up and down signaling the two of you to calm down, you both look at each other and nod. Your tense shoulders slowly started to drop.
“I want to talk about safety. What you did was incredibly stupid blue” he said looking at you, you sucked on your teeth, inhaling sharply.
“It was very brave of you but stupid. I understand Jack taught you, he is a good teacher but you've never done it in action before. I almost lost or had a charge nurse seriously injured on my shift and I cannot have that” he said sternly, “Nevertheless, I am very proud of you and grateful for what you did. You saved many people but that could have gone very bad so please think about your safety next time.”
You listen to him, nodding your head. “I understand” Before he could say thank you, you started to speak again. “But just how you can't lose someone on your shift, I can't either. My job is to keep this place running alongside Dana. I saw a danger and I acted to protect my people. Yes, I was underexperienced but I knew how to disarm him. The officers would not have gotten to us in time, Me taking this chance was way better than none. You always said ‘We do what we have to do to save as many people as we can’ and that's what I did. The possibility of me being down is way better than our whole ED being down.” You take a long breath, squeezing your eyes shut before opening them.
Robby nods his head, respecting the words. “ okay” he says calmly, closing his hands together. He knows you're right, thinking about all the different outcomes.
He turned to your boyfriend now.
“Whitaker, thank you for keeping a strong restraint on the patient at the time. I will need to have a personal chat with Ogilvie. If he had a stronger restraint this whole situation could have been handled differently. I am going to talk to Gloria AGAIN to see how we can better guarantee the safety of our staff.” Dennis just nods his head replying with a small okay.
“Thank you” you say softly.
“Now last thing before I have you sign the HR papers. You both were hands-on with something more traumatic than most days. I want you to know if you want to talk with Kiara or me about this and how this is affecting you, please do so whenever you are ready”
The meeting was over after that, and you both signed the papers. Robby released both of you, telling Dennis to finish his charts and both of you to give your hand-offs already.
You two went back to your place, stopping to pick up some of your favorites on the way. Dennis took a quick shower before running you a warm bath.
He lowered the lights in your bathroom, as you sank into the warm water. He frowned for the thousandth time today seeing his bite mark on your arm, He placed your food on the bath caddy tray ready for you to eat once you get settled. He sat on the floor outside the tub, his food sitting on his lap and he watched you relax in the warm water.
He just wanted to be near you, see you in the flesh. His right hand is in the water trying to massage away the bruise on your arm. Ditching his food he leaned over the tub to kiss your head, returning his head to his left arms that rested at the edge of the tub.
“I love you” he says through watery eyes. Emotions from today to great to ignore.
“I love you too Den” You pause, reaching to wipe a tear with your already wet hands, “I am not going anywhere”
You lean forward kissing his nose. You laugh nervously as you sit fully back into the tub.
“What?” he asked, confused like a puppy.
“Ugh, now that we are home and not trying to save a patient… My hand kind of got hurt from when the patient kicked me” you say watching as Dennis's face drops.
Instantly, he reaches for your hand, which you gladly gave to him.
“You should have said something baby” he says examining it. It was swollen and tender but not broken.
“Keep it out of the warm water, I will get an ice pack and wrap it when you are out” he said gently kissing it, as he does with all your other injuries.
You felt better, you felt loved, you were with your safe space in the comfort of your home.
Dennis will always be your safe space, You are not leaving him anytime soon, nor would you let anything happen to him.
─ summary: Your desire and drive for your husband often outpaces his own. Never once have you said no. Imagine Maekar's confusion when you finally do.
─ pairing: Maekar Targaryen x wife!reader
─ word count: 2.5k
─ content: 18+ MDNI | fluff | pregnancy | domestic fluff | misunderstanding | a woman at her absolute limit | husband fearing for his life
─ a/n: We are almost at the end for my favourite couple on this blog. Girlie is ready to pop. This is also quite literally the opposite of this ask so I apologise for that — but this is what came to mind when I read it. Thank you always for reading and interacting. 🖤
Maekar stepped into the dimly lit bedchamber and pushed the door shut with his shoulder, exhaustion deep in his bones. It had been a miserable succession of hours, filled with petitions, disputes, and the endless, grinding bureaucracy of his station. His head throbbed with a dull rhythm behind his eyes, and his shoulders felt as though they were bearing the weight of the entire castle's stone.
He stood still for a moment, allowing the silence of the room to wash over him. Usually, by the time he managed to escape his duties, the chambers were dark and cold, the fire reduced to a pile of grey ash, and you, his wife, long lost to the world of sleep. It had been this way for days; a cycle of missed connections and silent beds that left him feeling more like a visitor in his own life than a husband. He had braced himself for the same sight tonight, for the loneliness of undressing in the dark and sliding into cold sheets alone.
But the room was not dark.
Two candles still burned on the bedside table, their flames casting a warm, golden glow against the stone walls. And there you were, propped up against the mountain of pillows, your eyes open and fixed on the heavy tome resting on your rounded belly.
Maekar let out a breath he felt he had been holding since sunrise. He crossed the room, his boots making little sound and stopped at the edge of the bed.
"You are awake still?" he asked. His voice was rougher than he intended, scraped dry by the day's use.
You lowered the book slowly, your gaze lifting to meet his. You looked tired, the skin beneath your eyes shadowed, but the candlelight caught the warmth in your irises. "I am."
A simple statement, yet the way you said it, the slight flatness of the tone, the tightness at the corners of your mouth, sent a subtle warning signal through him. He knew that tone. It was the sound of patience worn thin, a rope fraying, pulled taut by the discomfort of carrying another life. He had learned over the past months that the landscape of your moods had shifted; once open paths were now mined with irritability. It was best to tread lightly.
"I am glad. I feared I would miss you again."
You offered a small, tired smile that did not quite reach your eyes. "I was too uncomfortable to sleep."
As you shifted, adjusting your position against the pillows, and pushed the covers off of you, the candlelight illuminated more than just your face. Maekar's breath caught in his throat.
He had been prepared for a nightgown of heavy linen, something modest and practical. What he saw was something else entirely.
The garment you wore was barely a garment at all. It was made of a sheer fabric that clung to your skin, doing almost nothing to hide the body beneath. Two thin straps of the same translucent material were the only things holding it up over your shoulders. The bodice was cut low, the fabric so fine that the dark flush of your areolas was clearly visible through the weave. Your stomach, heavy with the child you had made together, pressed outward, the sheer cloth stretching tight over the magnificent curve, leaving nothing to the imagination.
His gaze traveled downward, following the line of your body. The hem of the nightgown had ridden up with your movement, stopping scandalously high on your thighs. It was so short that it served almost no purpose. He could see the full, lush curve of your backside where it pressed into the mattress, and the space between your thighs where the fabric failed to cover you at all. You were, for all intents and purposes, naked.
The exhaustion that had been weighing him down vanished, replaced instantly by a hot, sharp rush of blood. Every frustration of the day, every petty argument he had endured, every scroll he had signed dissolved. There was only the sudden, overwhelming need to be inside you.
He stood frozen for a moment, his hand gripping the bedpost until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to touch you, to run his hands over that sheer fabric and feel the heat of your skin beneath. He wanted to bury his face between your thighs until he could not think straight.
But he restrained himself. The warning in your voice echoed in his mind. He took a long, steadying breath and forced himself to move, to break the spell of the visual before he did something foolish.
"I will wash," he said, his voice sounding strained to his own ears. "And then join you."
He turned away from the bed and moved toward the basin on the table across the room. The water was cold, but he barely felt it as he splashed it onto his face, trying to cool the fire burning under his skin. He could feel your eyes on him. He reached for the towel, drying his face with rough, jerky movements.
Behind him, the sheets rustled.
"Must you do that quite so loudly?" you asked.
Maekar paused, lowering his hand slowly. He had not thought he was being loud, but then, his senses were currently overwhelmed. To you, perhaps the sound of splashing water and the scratch of cloth seemed like a clamor.
"My apologies," he said, turning back to you once more. He noted, with a twinge of self-deprecation, that he had been apologizing a great deal lately.
He began to undress, making a conscious effort to slow his movements, to be as silent as a shadow in the room. He pulled his tunic over his head, the fabric sliding over his skin, and removed his boots, setting them down with exaggerated care. He unlaced his breeches, letting them fall.
He stood in his smallclothes for a moment and looked at you again. You were watching him, your expression unreadable, but you had not looked away.
"Has the day been kind to you?" he asked, trying to bridge the gap between you with conversation. He walked back to the bedside, checking on you as he always did, needing to know you were comfortable, that you were well.
You sighed, a small, weary sound. "The day was long. The babe is heavy. He feels like he is sitting on my bladder and kicking my ribs at the same time."
Maekar reached out, his hand hovering over your stomach before he gently placed his palm against the sheer fabric. He felt a shift beneath his hand, a hard elbow or knee pressing outward against his skin. It was a strange, powerful sensation, feeling the life you had created moving inside you.
"He is strong," Maekar said, his thumb stroking the taut skin gently. "Like his mother."
You huffed a soft laugh, leaning your head back against the pillows. "He is stubborn. Like his father."
"Perhaps," Maekar allowed, a small smile touching his lips. "But he is lucky to have you."
You looked up at him, your eyes softening just a fraction. "And I am lucky to have you. Even if you are loud."
Maekar chuckled. He leaned over and blew out the two candles on the table. The room plunged into darkness, save for the pale silver light of the moon filtering through the window. It cast long, spectral shadows across the floor, but it was enough.
He moved to the side of the bed and lifted the heavy fur coverlet to crawl in. The mattress dipped under his weight as he moved on hands and knees over you, careful to keep his bulk suspended above you. He paused there, hovering in the dark, looking down at your face illuminated by the moonlight.
He lowered his head and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. It was a test, and you did not push him away. Encouraged, he leaned in further and placed a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. Still, you did not protest.
He moved his mouth to the sensitive skin just below your jaw, kissing a slow trail down the line of your throat. His hand moved of its own accord, sliding up your side to cup one of your breasts through the sheer fabric. It was heavy in his hand, the weight of it changed by the pregnancy, the nipple pebbled against his palm.
"Maekar,"
Your voice was not sharp, but it was firm.
"Hmm?" he murmured against your skin, not stopping, not yet.
"I am not in the mood."
Maekar went still, his hand froze on your breast, and his lips remained resting against the pulse point in your neck. The words did not make sense to him at first. For over a year, since the beginning of your marriage, your desire for him had been a constant, a burning fire that often outmatched his own. There had never been a time when you had turned him away.
He pulled back, lifting his upper body so he could look down at your face, even in the dim light. He felt adrift, suddenly unsure of his footing.
"Oh," he said. The silence stretched between you awkwardly.
"Is... is everything all right?"
He searched your face for some sign of distress, some clue to what he had done wrong.
You let out a breath, shifting slightly beneath him. "Everything is fine. I am just... I am tired, Maekar. I ache. My back hurts, my feet are swollen, and I just want to sleep."
With some effort, you rolled over, turning your back to him. The movement was slow and clumsy, hampered by the size of your stomach. You settled with a huff, pulling the covers up to your shoulder.
Maekar remained frozen on his hands and knees above you for a moment longer, the rejection settling over him like a cold draft.
"Alright," he said finally, his voice quiet.
He climbed off you and moved to his side of the bed. He lay down on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling, the moonlight catching the edges of the stone beams above. He stared straight ahead, his hands clasped over his chest, trying to will his body to relax, to let go of the tension that had coiled in his muscles. He felt exposed, his arousal still a heavy, insistent presence between his thighs, trapped in the fabric of his smallclothes. He felt ridiculous.
Then, he felt the mattress shift as you moved. He turned his head to see you rolling back toward him. You were looking at him, your eyes wide and questioning in the gloom.
"Are you not going to hold me?" you asked.
Maekar blinked. He looked at you, then down at the obvious tent in the smallclothes he still wore, then back at you. He was painfully, throbbingly hard. Holding you now, spooning your body against his, would be a unique form of torture. It would take every ounce of his self-control not to grind against you, not to try to coax a different response from you.
"Well..." He hesitated, warring with himself. "Alright."
He rolled onto his side, facing you, and opened his arms. You scooted closer, settling your back against his chest. He wrapped one arm around your waist, his hand resting on the swell of your stomach. He bent his knees, tucking his legs behind yours, trying to find a position that did not press his hips too tightly against you.
It was impossible. As soon as you settled back into him, your soft, ample backside pressed firmly against his groin. You were essentially naked, the sheer fabric doing nothing to cushion the contact. You felt it immediately; the hard, hot length of him against you.
"Maekar."
Your voice was sharp now, laced with brittle energy; the sound of a woman who had reached the end of her rope.
"Please," you said, pulling slightly away from him. "What is the matter with you?"
Maekar tightened his arm around your waist, keeping you from pulling away completely, but he froze his hips, mortified.
"With me?" he asked, his voice incredulous. "Wife, look at you. He gestured vaguely toward the sheer nothingness of your nightgown. "You are lying here practically naked. How else is my body to react? I am a man, not a statue."
You let out a groan of frustration, thumping your head back against the pillow. "I am not dressed like this for you, Maekar. My blood feels as if it is boiling constantly, my skin feels too tight, and I am enormous! None of my other gowns fit anymore. This is all I have that does not make me feel as if I am being strangled."
You stopped, taking a ragged breath. "I am not trying to tempt you. I am simply trying to endure."
Maekar lay there, the words washing over him. The heat left his face, replaced by a flush of guilt that was far more uncomfortable than his arousal. He felt foolish. He had been so focused on his own desire, on the sight of you, that he had completely ignored the reality of your suffering.
"I am sorry. I was not thinking. I only saw... well. I did not see how uncomfortable you were."
He shifted his body back slightly, creating a fraction of space between you, trying to relieve the pressure against you. He adjusted his arm, moving it from your waist to stroke your hair gently, his fingers combing through the thick locks.
"You are a wonder," he whispered into the dark. "I know it is hard. I see you, I truly do."
He felt your body relax against him. The tension in your shoulders seemed to melt away under the gentle rhythm of his hand in your hair.
"I love you," he said. "More than I can say, and I mean every word when I say that you are still so beautiful. More beautiful now, perhaps."
You turned your head slightly. "I snapped at you," you murmured, your voice thick with tiredness and a sudden wave of emotion. "I am sorry. I did not mean to be cruel."
"You were not cruel," he assured you, kissing your temple, his lips lingering on the soft skin there. "You are tired. You have every right to be cross. I should have known better."
"I love you," you whispered back. The words were a sigh, a final release of the day's tension. You settled deeper into his embrace, your back pressing against his chest.
"Sleep now," he said softly. "I have you."
Your eyes closed. He could feel the heavy, even rhythm of your breathing begin to slow, to deepen. Your body, usually so restless and uncomfortable, went slack against him. The babe shifted once more, a slow roll beneath his hand, and then stilled.
Maekar held you, warm and round and heavy, in the circle of his arms, and for the first time in days, you both found contented rest.
Characters & Pairings: JosephQuinn!JohnnyStorm x enhanced!reader (romantic), the Fantastic Four (platonic), The Avengers (platonic).
Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, mentions of canon violence and death, canon divergence, light angst | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 7K
Requested 📨 yes/no
Premise: Earth-616 is no stranger to the multiverse. Since the defeat of Thanos in 2023, the Avengers have had their fair share of visitors from other worlds and know what to expect when they do. But when a man wearing the same face of their late comrade arrives, the Avengers are in for the shock of their lives when a group of heroes tailing the individual fall through the portal behind him. And for the flying, fire-wielding, and sometimes charming Johnny Storm, he meets his match in the form of a woman whose power and reputation matches that of her cold, steel, heart.
Note: Happy 2025 everyone! To kick off the year I am gifting y'all this damn idea that's been stuck in my head the past two weeks. Now if you've been following my work since I started, then you know I was pumping out Marvel fics back in the day. Phase 1-4 of Marvel have my heart, and unfortunately the disappointment of Phase 5 (with few exceptions) had me lose interest. BUT if there was one thing I absolutely loved when I was a kid, it was the OG Fantastic Four movies with Chris Evans, Jessica Alba, etc. I watched those literally every day and before the Avengers/MCU I rolled hard with the FF, Blade, & X-Men (I've got another idea involving Deadpool & Wolverine cooking). So I have a lot of expectations for FF: First Steps especially because the MCU has had so many misses the last two years. I love Pedro Pascal, Vanessa Kirby, and Joseph Quinn, I haven't watched The Bear, but I've heard great things about Ebon Moss-Bachrach and I look forward to his and the rest of the cast's portrayal of the FF.
I've been a fan of JQ since 2022 because like majority of people I discovered him by his performance as Eddie in Stranger Things. I'll admit I haven't seen much of his filmography, but I did watch A Quiet Place: Day One and he was phenomenal. And don't get me started on Gladiator II. I was pleased to hear he'd be playing my first love Johnny Storm and I know he'll do amazing, not to mention he has said that he was a fan of the OG movies and Chris' version of the character. Whenever I hear an actor is a fan of the source material, I know they're going to deliver.
The movie hasn't come out, neither has the trailer, so I don't have much to work with. But we know that FF:FS is following the origin story of the FF and will feature the Silver Surfer. AND it's rumored to be where RDJ's Doctor Doom will debut, setting up Avengers: Doomsday and he will be the big villain of the MCU. This obviously is diverging from canon and pretty much an AU story, remember that please. SO here's my treat to my fellow Johnny Storm lovers to feed y'all since we still got months until FF:FS. Enjoy.
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The blinding light of the sun peaking through the curtains pulled Johnny from his sleep before the alarm was set to go off. Had it been any other day he’d be upset. Wishing nothing more than to curl into the comforter and get the extra minutes of sleep. But thankfully it was Sunday--the day reserved for rest. No agenda. No training. No missions. Completely free and dedicated to recoupling after a week filled with non-stop action.
And if there was anyone who would be displeased at waking up earlier than needed, it was the woman lying beside him. Fast asleep on her back with one hand curled beneath the pillow and the other clasping his on her chest. Body cooler than the average person, which made the atmosphere of the room comfortable considering Johnny’s was hotter than the average citizen. Figuratively and literally.
Johnny smiled, happily tucking himself further into her space, chin leaning on her shoulder as he snuggled against her side. Allowing his eyes to flutter close and accept the slumber his body itched to claim. The fresh scent of shea butter from her shampoo and body wash filled his nostrils, and he sighed in content.
This was what life was worth living.
But just when Johnny welcomed the darkness, the annoying, blazing sound of their alarm clock echoed against the walls, disturbing the peaceful moment and making him flinch and groan. “Dammit,” he rolled onto his back, arm reaching to slap at the air until his fingers grasped the device. Snoozing it asleep with a press of a button.
Now he was fully awake.
Flinging himself back onto the mattress, he felt her body shift before letting out a soft chuckle, “Had you turned it off when you first woke, you’d have spared yourself this torment.” Her voice was laced with tiredness, and Johnny turned his head to find her eyes still closed but clear amusement painting her visage by the smirk on her lips.
Rolling his eyes, he moved to lay on his side and brought his arm around her waist, “Why didn’t you? Seeing as you were also awake.”
“Too comfy.”
“Well, so was I,” he sassed, mouth hovering over her jaw before leaning down to kiss the skin, the coolness sending a chill along his spine. She hums, nuzzling into the touch, seeking it.
“The alarm is also on your side.”
Johnny smirks against her cheek, mischief coating his gaze, “you could’ve reached over me, you know. Saved us both the hassle.” His hand reached up to stoke her jaw, trailing to tangle his fingers in her hair. Soft and silky. He takes a moment to appreciate the beauty before him. From her thick eyelashes, to her lips. Her cheekbones and kissable lips.
“Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you,” she challenged with no actual bite to her tone, one eye peeking open. “Me on top of you in the morning.” He didn’t even deny it, flashing a toothy smile
“Very much so.”
Instead of replying, Y/n moved to push the man onto his back, throwing her leg over his waist to lay herself on top of him. Johnny’s hands immediately grabbed her, keeping her body pressed against his with one hand on her back and the other firmly on her hips. The heat radiating off his complexion clashed against the frostiness of hers. Two polar opposites coming together in an explosion of love and devotion.
Johnny welcomed it with open arms, bringing her mouth to his in a tender kiss. Chuckling as she fought away while mumbling about morning breath to which he didn’t care. He kissed her like his life depended on it. Like they were the only two people in existence. For there was nothing sweeter on the planet than the taste of her lips on his.
And thanks to the fire that consumed his veins, Johnny was spared from getting frostbite.
“Happy?” She asked while pulling away, but not getting far as Johnny cupped her jaw in his hand to keep her close. Kissing her once more after mumbling, “exceptionally.”
The tale of the Human Torch falling in love with the Ice Princess begins long ago, three years to be exact, when the Fantastic Four find themselves sitting across the table of Earth’s mightiest heroes, the Avengers.
Everything leading up to the moment was still a blur to the young Johnny Storm. One moment he and his team, the Fantastic Four as they called themselves, were fighting the formidable Doctor Doom in their 60s-style futuristic Earth. And the next they are pulled into another universe while tailing the bastard to prevent him from bringing utter destruction to the world. It hadn’t even been five minutes and the Four were surrounded by armored trucks and individuals donning costumes similar to their own.
“Hands where we can see them!”
“State your name and purpose!”
“Who are you and where did you come from!”
Johnny’s heart pounded against his chest. The anxiety piling up like a volcano ready to explode as he took in the scene before him. There were guns pointed at him and his friends. A man in a blue tunic and red cape with his hands raised in defense next to a young girl wearing a brown tunic. Another man in a red, white, and blue tactical suit with wings who landed in front of them. His shield reflecting off the light. Next to him was a man in a similar attire with wings but in grey. Then there was a woman in all purple, bow and arrow trained on the Four. A man with five golden rings on either wrist. A masked individual in a bright red and blue suit with spider webbing detail crouched on top of a car. And finally, a woman in a striking gray tactical ensemble stood closest to Johnny with a cold look in her eyes.
Upon making a flame with his hands, ready to defend himself and his friends, Johnny watched her face shift to amusement. Raising her brow as though unimpressed by the trick, “Don’t even try, hotshot.” And without taking her eyes off his, her palm raised up to form an icicle in the shape of a dagger. Her other arm extended to show her skin turning completely into ice.
Yeah, Johnny wasn’t sure if it was fear or arousal that consumed him. He often confused them at times. All he knows is there was a pretty woman before him with ice powers with cold eyes ready to strike him down with God knows what laid in store for him should he dare tempt her.
But now wasn’t the time to flirt. There were more important matters at stake. Like the fact they were surrounded by highly advanced, highly enhanced, people with an army of soldiers at their command. In a place that looked like New York but lacked the 60s style he was accustomed to.
“Cuff them and begin transport to HQ!”
“Find me Banner and clear this area at once!”
The Four were at a loss. Outnumbered and confused, none able to process what the fuck was going on. They lost Doom. He was God knows where and they were not a match against these strangers. So they took their loss and compiled as they were restrained by agents.
“What the fuck is happening, Reed?” Johnny demanded, struggling against the cuffs on his arms and ankles. His power seemingly unable to melt the damn things which both intrigued and terrified him.
“I don’t know?”
“Where are we?” said Sue from beside the genius, expression full of confusion and slight fear. The last thing she remembered was falling through a glowing yellow-orange light in the shape of a ring and the feeling of nausea hitting her full force. Giving her whiplash.
But before anyone could answer, the blinding light of the sun hit them as the door whipped open and agents ushered them out of the vehicle. Clashes of voices, cameras flashing as news crews desperately tried to breach the barrier guards had formed and even a helicopter flying above. Johnny glanced up to take in the chaos, gaze falling onto the large building before him with a giant ‘A’
The Four are led to a large glass encased room, still cuffed, and ordered to sit and wait while armed guards post themselves outside. Expecting someone to come in and interrogate them, they take the moment to assess the area. Noting that the glass room sat perched above a large space, like a bullpen, where people were rushing to answer phones, type on computers, or stood watching the vast tv screens splayed on the wall. The news channels played footage of what transpired on the streets moments prior. The Four tense when they see an image of Doctor Doom, disappearing after falling from what appeared to be a portal in the sky.
Just like they did.
The sound of the glass door opening captured their attention, turning to find the man in the wingsuit and the woman in gray. Their body language showed they were on high alert, analyzing the Four for any potential threat, and they exchanged a look before the man set down his shield on a free chair while the woman placed a stack of files onto the table.
“I’m Captain Sam Wilson, this is Agent Y/n L/n,” The man spoke first, cutting right to the chase, “You’re not from here, are you?”
“Here?” Reed repeated, perplexed.
“Earth-616,” Y/n answered, locking eyes with each of the Four, lingering on Johnny before falling onto Reed. “At first we suspected you’re with Hydra, or part of the team Fontaine has been cooking up. But ruled those possibilities out once we saw the footage of your friend who preceded you in the portal.”
The Four processed her words, unable to identify the names she spoke of.
“Hydra?”
“We don’t know who this Fontaine person is, but we can assure you we’re not involved with them.”
“You saw Doom? We have to find him immediately!”
“I’m sorry, did you say Earth-616?,’ Reed reeled back to her initial answer. Y/n crossed her arms over her chest with a nod.
“I did,” she then turned to Sam, lowering her voice but they were still able to hear everything, “This isn’t going to be easy, Cap. They obviously hadn’t discovered what we know and that makes them a liability.”
“We have no choice. Whoever traveled with them is still out there and they know what we’re up against. We need them.”
“And how exactly are we going to send them back to where they came from?”
“We’ll figure it out like we always do,” Sam’s tone grows stern, but Y/n holds her ground and doesn’t reveal any ounce of intimidation. “Strange and Banner can find something.”
Johnny, having had enough of them talking about them as though they weren’t right there, spoke up with annoyance, “Can you two please tell us what the fuck is going on? What do you mean “send us back where we came from,” and that we hadn’t discovered what you apparently know?”
Reed pitches in, “Sounds like you’re suggesting the theory of the multiverse is real and that we’ve somehow breached the gap between space, time, and reality and have fallen into a parallel universe,” the genius scoffs, gaze flicking between the two as though waiting for them to say, ‘Sike!’ only for his stomach to plummet in fear as he saw how serious they were. “Oh my God.”
Reed’s reaction to the implication was enough to cause the same in his friends. Sue’s face paled, Ben froze, and Johnny felt a sudden urge to throw up. They were in another universe.
They watch as Y/n removes a device from her utility belt, stiffening as she points it at the man, a buzzing sound emitting from its speakers causing her brows to furrow and the man leaned over to read whatever it was on the screen. “You’re human, like us, and your DNA appears to be altered with enhanced biological traits.” Glancing up from the screen, her head tilts with suspicion, “but that’s not the interesting part…..your readings indicate you obtain multiversal particles.”
The revelation sent the Four into hysterics. All denying at first the inevitable truth, speaking over each other, struggling against their cuffs--which Sam removed once they calmed down. Reed was dealing with shock and excitement, for the scientific discovery was something he always theorized was true. Meanwhile the others were more fearful of what this meant for their world and the one they were in.
For hours after the initial shock wore off, they stayed in that room until all information was exchanged between the groups. Sam infomed the Four they were at Avengers campus, headquarters for the Avengers. A team consisting of biologically or technologically enhanced individuals responsible for the safety and order of Earth-616 against domestic, international, and intergalactic threats.
“Well now we can add multiversal to the mix,” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, seemingly annoyed with having to deal with another damn enemy after they’d finally defeated an adversary not long ago.
Part of Johnny wanted to laugh at her irritation, but that probably would’ve made things worse on his end. So he kept his mouth shut.
Sam and Y/n were soon joined by the man in the tunic, who introduced himself as Doctor Stephen Strange. A Master of the Mystic Arts who had experience traveling the multiverse, and had even met a variant of Reed years prior.
He didn’t go into detail obviously of how that ended.
Not long later he was followed by a large man who’s physique rivaled Ben’s and was green. “Dr. Reed Richards, meet Dr. Bruce Banner,” Y/n did not look up from her tablet, full focus on the screen. “You two will surely get on well with figuring out what the fuck it is this Doctor Doom wants with our world.”
While they didn’t join the group, Sam explained who the other team members were that helped attain the Fantastic Four. Stephen’s protegee, America Chavez, who had the power to travel the multiverse--which had Reed’s eyes bulging from his head. He definitely wanted to have a conversation with her. There was Kate Bishop, the purple archer who trained under former Avenger, Clint Barton. Sam’s wingman, Joaquin Torres, and Shang-Chi, who possessed the Ten Rings. Lastly there was Peter Parker, the boy donning the red and blue webbed suit.
They mentioned the Thunderbolts, another team of enhanced individuals who were more anti-heroes and had once been adversaries of the Avengers but are now allies. Then there was the Guardians of the Galaxy. A team of intergalactic heroes traveling space and protecting the galaxy from threats not on Earth. The Norse Gods of Asgard, now living on Earth. Shuri, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne, and the Marvels. Lastly, they touched on former Avengers. Ones who retired, like Barton, and the ones who perished.
Finally, when things seemed to settle, Johnny decided to lift the mood by saying, “So do you guys have nicknames? Or like code for when you’re on missions?” Sue shot him a look that read, “For the love of God, Johnny.”
Y/n lifted her eyes from the tablet, giving him a once over, “Are you serious right now?”
“What?”
“Aye, take it easy, L/N,” Sam pitched in, waving a hand for emphasis. “Can’t blame the kid for being curious.” All he receives is a mock scoff.
“Okay, Captain America.”
Johnny’s ears perked up as he looked at Sam with interest. Boyish grin plastered on his face, “You’re called Captain America? That’s really cool.” He motions toward the suit and shield, “Should’ve guessed as much though with the colors of your suit and stars.”
“I used to be the Falcon, but Torres has taken on that mantle. Strange is just strange,” Y/n snickered under her breath, causing Johnny to bite back a smile. “We call America, Miss America.”
Ben nods his head in approval, “fitting.”
Sam continued listing off the aliases of the team, finally coming to Y/n who narrowed her eyes with a frown as he said, “And she’s the Ice Princess.”
Honestly she should be grateful for the nickname and that it sounded quite regal in comparison to other ice related names. Hell, they could’ve dubbed her Frost. Or Snowflake. Or God forbid Icicle. At least with the Ice Princess it made her sound both menacing and dauntless. Still, it was too on the nose. And it didn’t help that before the accident that granted her the powers and the Avengers, she was a socialite in America. Before they died, her parents were wealthy investors and friends with the late Tony Stark.
Johnny didn’t try to hide his grin, “The Ice Princess,” earning a glare from the woman, obviously not amused by the nickname nor his delight from it.
“And what do they call you, hotshot? Firestarter? Flame-man?”
He shrugs sheepishly, cheeks a tint red, “Human Torch.” Now that has Y/n’s lips curl, fighting back the smile as she hums.
Setting the Four up at campus, they were given rooms and full access to the labs and training facilities. Reed and Ben immediately joined Banner, while Johnny and Sue decided to observe the Avengers and learn from them. Their dynamics. Their history. The way they train and how they come together to develop strategy. How they are able to make a team consisting of individuals with different levels of abilities, experience, and ethics work.
Johnny would be lying if he said he wasn’t the most curious about Y/n. Not only was she the most beautiful, and quite terrifying, woman he’d ever met, but he was drawn to her aura. The power she held, both physically and on the team. She was extremely intelligent, a mentor to the young members, witty. Unafraid to go toe-to-toe with Sam or Strange.
And her powers….they were exact opposites. Fire and ice. Hot and cold. Where he controlled flames, she manipulated glaciers. He turned himself into a human torch, she transformed to a human icicle.
Talk about opposites attract.
Days passed, and the two teams merged together with the goal of locating their common enemy. By keeping up with the news and reports of suspicious activity, they were able to narrow down the search for Doom. Suspecting him to be hiding somewhere in the New England area.
The day before planning to scour the location, the teams trained with each other, none holding back. Showing off what they were made of. An enthralling experience considering the Fantastic Four had only been a team for a couple years in comparison to the fifteen plus of the Avengers. Banner being the only founding member there, Sam and Y/n not far behind.
“I like her,” Sue whispered to her brother when Y/n sideswiped Joaquin and put him on his ass. The group made a circle around the matts in the gym and were taking turns going against each other. Sue caught the way the man’s gaze followed the Avenger. Mesmerized by her skill and ability. And Sue always knew when her brother had a crush. “You should go next when it’s her turn again.”
Johnny didn’t respond, but the look on his sister's face, a cheeky smirk told him he wasn’t being conspicuous as he thought he was with his feelings. “Shut up.”
The most tense, and nearly destructible moment, came when the Four discovered a photograph of Tony Stark on the wall of a different debrief room alongside the founding Avengers. Who bore a striking resemblance, well actually he was identical, to Dr. Victor von Doom. The man they were after.
There was screaming. Accusations thrown at each other. Of course suspicion and confusion from the Four. Up until that point the Avengers only saw Doom with his cloak and mask from the footage, and the Four hadn’t described his appearance. And while the Avengers mentioned Tony Stark, they didn’t show any pictures.
It calmed when Strange had to remind them about the existence of variants. He met Reed’s when traveling to Earth-838. Peter Parker met two of his. It was completely possible that their Victor von Doom was a variant of their Tony Stark. Were they the same man? Not really when one thinks about it. But they shared a face. The Reed Richards Strange met looked nothing like the one standing in front of him. While in Earth-838, Strange met a young lady who worked with Christine, that world’s version of the Ice Princess, who was not Y/n. Peggy Carter was their Captain America!
Oh, and there was the big detail in the fact that Tony Stark was dead.
When the commotion settled and the two groups lost their steam, Johnny noted the deflated appearance of the Avengers. All falling quiet with unreadable expressions. Peter excused himself, “I-I don’t feel good. I’m gonna go lay down,” but the blonde saw the way his lip trembled and eyes watered. Rushing out of the debriefing room on a mission to get away from everyone before he burst into tears. A feeling of guilt suddenly consumed Johnny, glancing at his friends who shared the same concern.
Banner was quiet, as was Strange. The others, who didn’t know Tony personally, shuffled on their feet and quietly excused themselves as well. Sam had his back to everyone, a distant look in his eyes as he gazed down at the bullpen below.
And then there was Y/n. Sitting in silence with her hands clenching the arms of her chair, white knuckled and jaw so tight he swore he saw a vein protruding. Her breathing was shallow, eyes staring blankly at the wall.
Johnny felt unease, unsure of what to do. Should he say something? Should they leave the room? Nothing felt right at that moment. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this new revelation changed everything. This was no longer just containing a multiversal threat, this was personal so to say.
He was spared the ordeal when Sam finally spoke, only to be interrupted by Y/n, “You know you don’t have to--.”
“Do not finish that sentence, Sam.”
He turned away from the window to look at her, tone serious, “I’m trying to look out for you, Kid.”
“What’d I tell you about calling me that?”
“And Peter,” Sam continues, not letting up, “No one will fault you two for wanting to pull out of this.”
She scoffs, offended by the insinuation as she stands from her chair. The atmosphere in the room heated up again, and Johnny tensed, watching the woman step forward so she was nearly chest to chest with Sam. “There is a multiversal madman out there and you’re suggesting I stay grounded?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “What the fuck, Sam?”
“This is different, Y/n,” his voice was steady, willing her to understand. He wanted the best for his team. And their situation was unlike anything they’d ever dealt with. “You have to realize that. This Doom is--.”
“Not him, Sam! Y/n threw her hands up, yelling as the anger she had tried to contain began to unleash, “I’m not fucking stupid! For Christ’s sake, I know that’s not Tony and I’m not going to compromise this team because the man we’re up against has the same face as him!”
“Y/n--,” Strange attempted to intervene but she shot him a look and he immediately backed down.
“If you think Peter and I should back out, then so should Banner,” she pointed to the man who had yet to say something since the news of Tony’s variant was revealed. “Him and Tony founded this team. And let’s not forget your history with the damn Accords. Should I go call Rhodey and see what he thinks?”
‘Accords? Rhodey?’ Johnny thought to himself, not familiar with the term as he thought back to the lessons on the Avengers. They must’ve omitted that detail, assuming it was a rather dark part of their history. A confirmation he got from the reactions of Banner and Strange, who’s expressions were complete shock and appalled.
Sam’s demeanor shifted to that of hurt and exasperation, her words hitting him like a bullet from a gun. “That was low, even for you.” Yeah, whatever it was they were references, the Four gathered it wasn’t good.
Y/n stepped back as though he struck her, a flash of regret in her eyes but she kept her head up, willing herself not to break. “I’m an Avenger. I took an oath, the same as you, and made a promise to Tony that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this planet against any and all danger. I will not break that promise, and nothing you say or do will stop me.” Y/n backs away, moving toward the door, “I’ll see you on the quinjet tomorrow, Cap.”
An eerie silence remained as the door slammed shut behind Y/n. Nobody moved. Nobody made a sound. The air was thick, and full of tension. The Four glancing at each other with uncertainty.
“Wings up at eight,” Sam announced, voice strong with authority as though the last five minutes never occurred. Or didn’t bother him, though Johnny noted the pinched look of his brows.
The Captain then departed the room, Strange and Banner following out with a nod to the Four. Left to their own devices, the Four spent the next hour in the debrief room watching footage of the Avengers. Particularly ones with Tony Stark, the Iron Man, and the several catastrophic missions he dealt with alongside the Avengers. Provided with the mountain of videos from news channels and social media of people who experienced it first hand.
New York 2012. Ultron 2015. The Superhero Civil War of 2016. That’s where they learned of the Accords Y/n referenced and how she and Sam were involved. The two on opposite sides of the scale as Y/n pledged allegiance to Tony while Sam supported former Captain America, Steve Rogers. Witnesses flying a private plane around the airport captured the fight between the two teams.
Johnny watched with a frown as Y/n battled against her colleagues and friends. He could tell she was holding back on using her power to the highest degree, not really wanting to hurt them, but enough to send a message. For example, when Steve and Bucky attempted to flee to the hangar, Y/n created a layer of ice on the pavement, causing them to tumble and fall. Then she made a wall of ice to contain Scott Lang in his giant form. But that was a failure, as the wall wasn’t thick enough allowing Scott to break free, sending chunks of ice toward the ground, knocking the hero unconscious when one collided with her head, blood spilling from her temple. To prevent her from being crushed, Tony flew in a record speed to gather in his arms and rush her to safety.
Later that night when Johnny was wandering the building, he found Y/n on the balcony overlooking the main grounds. A hue of orange and pink painting the sky as the sun set on the horizon. The dark blue of nightfall taking over lurking in the background. She was out of her suit, dressed in casual clothes consisting of a hoodie and sweats. A faint expression on her visage as she stared out in the distance.
Gathering courage, Johnny took a deep breath before gently sliding back the door, the cool breeze hitting him in the face as he closed it behind him and approached the woman. Her head tilted slightly, acknowledging that she heard him, but made no move to address.
They stayed like that for a minute. In silence, basking in the peace they were afforded before the impending danger they were to face.
“I’m sorry you all had to witness that,” Y/n eventually spoke, tone neutral as her expression. “That was unprofessional of me.”
Johnny shook his head with a shrug, “You don’t have to apologize. I can’t imagine what you and your friends are feeling. And I’m sorry we jumped to conclusions--accusing you guys of--.”
“Considering what you told us of Victor von Doom,” She sent a pointed look, her voice one of understanding, “you had every right to be cautious. Plus,” she sighs, gaze flickered down to the railing, “you four are still new to the Multiverse. We’ve known about it for five years, and I remember that feeling of confusion and uncertainty. America told us all about her experiences traveling through various realities.” Y/n’s frown deepened, shuffling on her feet with unease. “In one world, she met a version of me that hated the Avengers--and tried to destroy them.” Her body shudders, and not from the wind, “That stuck me for a while. I couldn’t imagine a world where I was the enemy. Whose goal was to hurt the people I cared about. Steve, Nat, Tony.”
Johnny nodded, leaning his elbows on the railing as he pictured it. Surely there were versions of himself out there in the multiverse. He wondered what they were like. Did they have the same power? Did they get to live a normal life like he once thought he would? Was he a hero? Or was there a version of Johnny who went against all he stood for?
He too, refused to imagine a scenario where he’d want to harm his sister and friends. It saddened him to even think about such a thing. And the way Y/n said Tony’s name, showed him she felt the same.
“Was he your father?” the question left his lips before he could stop it. Immediately regretting upon the distant look that encompassed her visage along with the glossiness of her eyes.
“He was the closest thing I had to one after my own died,” Y/n bit her lip, scoffing lightly, “actually even when mine was alive. Met the man when I was five--my father invested in Stark Industries and the two were good friends. I have fond memories of going to Stark Tower and watching Tony’s expos.” A small smile appeared, but it soon turned to a frown. “My parents profited off the sciences and technology, but didn’t really care to understand it.” There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she spoke, and Y/n was a bit surprised she was being so open with Johnny. A rare feeling, for she was hardly this vulnerable about her past with her teammates. And she’d known them for decades almost.
“I was always smart growing up but they never acknowledged or praised me for it. Told me college wasn’t necessary since we were wealthy and what good would higher education be when we were well set. Mind you,” she shoots a glance at Johnny, who was watching her intently. “My father went to business school in Chicago and my mother was a journalist before they got married.”
“The pot calling the kettle black,” he muses, tone laced with disappointment on her behalf.
“Exactly,” she sighed, shaking her head as she looked back toward the city. “My father laughed when I told them I wanted to pursue physics at MIT. Told me if I was going to go to college then I should do business where the money was at--as if I needed more fucking money,” Johnny heard the frustration and sadness in her voice, picturing a young Y/n with dreams who just wanted the support of her parents and was denied. Thinking about it made his heart strain.
“Anyways, Tony was the one who helped me get to MIT. It was my freshman year he got kidnapped and became Iron Man. Barely saw him after that because his partnership with my dad ended.” Fiddling with her rings, Y/n closes her eyes briefly while taking a breath, then shrugs nonchalantly, “My folks were among the casualties in New York, my accident happened not long after….” she straightens up with a sniff, “Tony Stark helped me find purpose. Told me there were greater things for me--and my powers could be a tool to help people. He took me under his wing when the government advised him not to. I owe everything to him.” Turning to lock their eyes, Y/n’s gaze is filled with determination.
“As he died I promised him to continue his legacy. I intend to keep it, until my last breath.”
Defeating Doom proved itself to be the most defining moment for the Avengers and Fantastic Four. Lasting months on end, for each time Doom was in their grasps he managed to get two steps ahead of them. Thankfully the integrity of space, time, and reality didn’t seem to disintegrate with the Four in Earth-616. Something the geniuses of the team were concerned about.
When it was finally over, Doom neutralized and the multiverse saved, the Avengers and the Four--bloodied, bruised, and covered in grime, dragged themselves to a nearby shawarma joint to pig out. Beer flowed, music sounded from the jukebox beside the round table they took claim to.
And after months of tip-toeing around feelings, Johnny and Y/n finally said ‘fuck it,’ falling into step together as a unit they both craved. The Ice Princess seated firmly in his lap with her head tucked under his chin, eyes fluttering closed as the exhaustion kicked in.
For Johnny, he’d been crushing on the woman since he first laid eyes on her. Keeping his affections hidden as he knew deep down it would be unwise to pursue anything with someone who 1) was from another world; and 2) he needed to focus on the task at hand.
The same went for Y/n, who realized her fondness for the blonde about a month after he arrived. She’d be lying if she didn’t find him attractive during that first meeting. Anyone with eyes would agree. But she knew better than to be involved with him given their predicament.
Yet, by a power greater than universe, the man of fire melted her frozen heart. He wasn’t put off by her cool attitude, unlike most people when they first meet Y/n. Yeah he got under her skin with his boyish charm and flirtations, but he never crossed any lines. Always respectful. Always mindful.
Neither were sure when things changed between them. Maybe it was when Y/n pushed him out of the way of a line of fire from a Doombot causing her to take three bullets to her back and nearly bleed out right there in the middle of the street. Or when Johnny spent a week in a coma for exposing himself to a deadly dose of radiation to prevent Y/n from doing so. Whatever it was, the two could no longer beat around the bush. And the night before the final battle against Doom, they confessed their feelings on the balcony overlooking Avengers campus. Sealing their promise to stay alive with a kiss.
“You sleepy, darling?” Johnny murmured against her hair after finishing a conversation with Shang-Chi. Tightening his arms around the woman when she nuzzled his chest before laying a sweet kiss to her forehead.
“Just resting my eyes.” His finger brushed her cheekbone, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, making Y/n sigh in content.
“Rest,” he told her, not buying it at all, and by the tone of his voice she knew he was smiling. “I’ll wake you when we’re ready to leave.” All he received was a hum, the man beaming as he carded his fingers through her hair. And when Johnny lifted his gaze he met his sister’s, who’s expression was full of fondness, shooting him a wink as she gestured toward the sleeping Avenger in his lap.
‘Told you so,’ Sue mouthed, grinning at his pink tinted cheeks.
‘Shut up,’ he mouthed back, though he returned the smile.
In the days following their victory, one question remained: Will the Fantastic Four return home? America was their ticket out. All she had to do was open a portal. It may take time, but eventually she’d shuffle through enough realities until she found theirs. Luckily in the months they’d been away, the fabric of reality remained intact.
In all honesty, that fact alone is what made them contemplate leaving.
The Fantastic Four didn’t belong in Earth-616 having landed there by mistake, but it had been almost a year. Integrating themselves into the Avengers and developing bonds. Besides the romantic feelings between Johnny and Y/n, the remaining Fantastic Four were not sure if they wanted to leave. Reed and Ben enjoyed working with Banner and Strange. Sue longed for female companionship, and found that with Y/n and the other women of the Avengers. And Johnny connected with the guys. They all became friends.
They became a team.
And since they weren’t leaving anyone behind in their world, what harm was there by staying? The Avengers could use more allies. And who knows another high level threat would appear. Threatening the existence of the universe. They needed a strong team, and defeating Doom proved they were one.
Yeah, it was a no brainer.
Now here they were two years later. The Ice Princess and Human Torch cuddled in their bed, in their apartment in Avengers campus, on their day off where they could enjoy the peace as no new threats had emerged in the last two months.
Johnny groaned when Y/n pulled away from the kiss, moving to sit up so she was straddling his hips. The comforter falling behind her as she fought against his firm grip when he attempted to pull her back down.
“Sorry, hotshot, no sleeping in for me today. I have to get ready.”
He tilted his head, partly confused, partly offended, “For what?”
“I promised your sister I’d have breakfast with her.”
“But it’s Sunday,” He sat up, hands gripping her waist as he moved to press kisses on her neck. “We don’t do anything on Sundays. Except sleep….” he trailed off, pulling away to give her a cheeky smile, “and give each other some lovin’.”
Y/n chuckled, tilting her head back as his plush lips captured her chin, trailing down her jaw until he found the place behind her ear. “Baby, I’ll give you all the loving this afternoon until the sun sets and the moon rises,” she feels him shudder against her, smirking in satisfaction. “But I’m a woman of my word.”
Lifting herself off him, she leaned over to her side of the bed to grab her rings off the nightstand. Returning to his lap as she placed them on her fingers. Her college ring on her right hand, and the beautiful Cartier stack consisting of her engagement and wedding rings. Once all were placed on her finger, Johnny lifted her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles just below. His own wedding band shining against the sunlight peeking through the curtains.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long now,” Johnny flirted, chocolate eyes sparkling while pressing her hand to his chest where his heart laid. Heat radiated off his body. “I might come looking for ya.” The words earned him a playful glare.
“Behave,” she scolded without any bite. “Or I’ll punish you.”
“I want you too,” Johnny challenged, winding his arm around her waist to hold her closer.
All she did was shake her head, laughing at his behavior while he continued his assault on her neck, allowing him a few extra kisses before she really had to get up. “You are something else, Johnny Storm.”
“And you love meeeee.”
“I do,” she breathed out, tilting her head down to meet his lips halfway, hand cupping his jaw. He sighed in victory, chasing her mouth each time she pulled away, causing her to giggle. “Johnny! The sooner you let me leave, the sooner you get to have me all to yourself.”
He groaned again, loosening his hold but not completely letting Y/n go. “Fine,” he mumbled, pouting, but smiled when she kissed his cheek. “Bring me back a coffee, please?”
“Of course, my love.”
With that he reluctantly let go of her waist, allowing his wife to get up from the bed. But before she could make her way to the bathroom, Johnny caught her hand, making her turn back to him with a raised brow.
“Some say the world will end in fire.” He begins to recite the famous poem by Robert Frost. What started as a joke between the two because of their abilities, transformed into something far more intimate. The poem itself was about human emotions, and their power to lead to self-destruction. Fire was fast, Ice was slow. Together they were each other's strength and weakness. And despite being complete opposites, they both played a role in dismantling humanity.
But for Johnny and Y/n, they managed to do the impossible. They bridged the gap between fire and ice.
Y/n smiles affectionately, lifting her free hand to the back of his neck to scratch at the nape of his hairline. “Some say in ice.”
“From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire.”
“But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate, to say that for destruction ice.”
“Is also great,” They both recite, leaning in to capture each other's lips as they whisper the final line of the poem.
Sunshine. Saw someone say “no one dry humps anymore” which is true and IT’S CRIMINAL. Bring it back everywhere!! In writing, movies, shows, hell, real life if you’re so inclined!
prguitarman
theartofmadeline
janainaart
titsay
stormborns
germansingergirl
baratheonpilled
dededos
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
izzy806
