secretshamewriting

[secretshamewriting]

A Death Star Minute (Director Krennic x Reader)

On Ao3

The first bit of smut I have written in a while, trying to get myself back into the habit. Go easy on me. I might write more if there’s interest.

Warnings: NSFW

Silent as a shadow, you moved with his footsteps. The fall of boots seeming only as one in the long corridor that was known to throw the sound back. It was common to catch a pair of Stormtroopers guarding a door chatting, they couldn't help it- they were barely more than normal citizens with combat training. Not a Deathtrooper. Elite units, specialized, excelling at command, and stealth missions. They were also assigned bodyguards to Imperial Officers too valuable to risk, and Director Krennic was your charge. Lieutenant of Death Squad, stationed on the DS-1 Platform and part of the Tarkin Initiative.

Death troopers operated in fewer numbers, a unit normally consisted of three troopers. Each completed rigorous training and was formidable in any aspect, but each focused on a set of skills to best complement the unit. Grand Admiral Thrawn and Director Krennic commanded larger groups for their needs. Death Squad handled many tasks but it seemed mostly to fall to babysitting Stormtroopers about their occasionally important missions aboard the platform- usually to ensure the delivery of special cargo, personnel, and prisoners. The Squad rotated positions to avoid monotony, but being unmatched at unarmed combat and overly sufficient at any weapon you picked up more often than not put you, best suited, as the Director’s personal bodyguard.

If it was off of the base, Krennic was always shadowed by two troopers. The numbers went up from there depending on the level of intimidation he wished to show. But day to day you walked in his tracks, singly responsible. It is always a stark contrast: his white, your black; as though the transoptical lights left an unchanging, towering shadow behind him, embodied as a person to enforce his will.  

Clean cut, well-groomed, ruthless. You admired the Director. As a part of the psychological evaluation to become a Deathtrooper, it was required to meet a set of ideals, mentality, and morality; above all a sense of devotion to the Empire. On top of this however you felt a certain level of pride doing what you do. And being where you are. You had been offered a command position of your own, with your own squad underneath you by your own commander, and by other Imperial Officers of note. Since none had been a direct order, you had declined them all.

Perhaps the Director favored you as well. Though requests could be made to borrow your skills and those of the squad in other missions.. any attempt at requisition was bluntly rebuffed.

It may have been a penchant for the wildly kinky sex you two had been having for more rotations than you could count. Though it happened less than either of you would have liked. Both being strict professionals and Imperialists would never let it interfere with your duties.

As the work neared completion, life became more hectic. Krennic handled it with ease but you knew he was stretched thin and chomping at the bit, too eager to prove the culmination of his devotion to this project since his time on the Republic’s Special Weapons Group. He fought tooth and nail for two decades to keep this project going, and he wasn't about to get lax now.

He was being far too high strung for your liking. The last three times you fooled around, only one had been a celebration of a small victory. It had been an exuberant exploring, wandering hands, and mild teasing. Quite different from the norm, but even more so than the two times before. Luckily you had a taste for violence from all of your time at the academy, masochism had been beat into you, and when a kyber shipment had been delayed combined with a slave revolt pushed deadlines back across the board Krennic had been… indignant.

Turning down a corridor, an opportunity arose. You knew this battle station as well as him, if not better. He may have been the architect but you had walked every pace of the halls. The nearest regiment of Troopers was minutes away down either corridor and out of earshot. It was well away from the main passages, just a lonely tunnel used to go between Deep Storage and the South Command and even then it's use was scarce.

Your pace quickened and before he could even turn around out of surprise you had the Director pushed against the Quadanium paneling.

“Trooper!” in his shock he spat it like a bad taste. “Identify yourself!”

You forewent an immediate answer, instead “Director Krennic” tsked through the heavy distortion of your helmet. The toe of your boot moving against the instep of his to push his stance wider apart while you had your immaculate DLT-19D blaster pinning him.

Patience was gone and leaving only the cool, levelhead of command in place the Director gave you a final chance. “I ordered you to identify yourself trooper.” His hand was ready to draw on the blaster pistol at his side.

Stepping even closer in his stance you left him nowhere to go as you imposed over him. You lowered your rifle with your right hand and nimbly disarmed his holster with your left. “Has it been that long?” the voice couldn't be any further from your own, by design. Both guns gently clattering to the floor you disengaged your helmet and quickly pulled it up over your head. “Or have you become more familiar with the rest of the Squadron?”

Any recognition was showed in annoyance, a quarter of an eye roll and a miniscule clench of his jaw. “Familiar?” he seethed. Shrugging his shoulders then tugging to adjust his cape he asked “What if you had been a Rebel? Sometimes it can be hard to tell who is behind that damn visage.”

“I would never let that happen, Sir.” you cooed. You loved your armor but in these moments the layers of reflec and plastoid was a prison, holding you back from what you really wanted.

“I have a request, Director.” Desire burned in your eyes, seeped from your bones.

Krennic rolled his eyes in a full circle this time, displeased. “Not this. Not now.”  An attempt was made to push past you, there was a meeting to attend in Southern Command. It could wait. If Krennic wasn’t there, the officers would wait all day, out of fear, if they had to.

The reinforced gloves of your armor gripped lightly onto the pristine white fabric as you sank to your knees. On several occasions you had offered him relief from his stress by taking command, an inverse to the status quo of your daily power dynamic- it was something he had enjoyed greatly. All things being the same, there was several safe words he could have used, but did not utter a one, or any further protest than a dry “Oh, please.” as you made quick work the Director’s trousers.

His cock seemed as unamused at your antics as he was. Moving closer, not yet touching him, but just exhaling a warm breath across his skin breathed life into him. The twitch was an invitation as you began teasing with your tongue, around the tip, lapping at his length and finding more with each pass. Your own arousal peaked as well, tingling between your legs and involuntary clenching.. It was tempting to throw him to the ground and mount him right there in the hallway if it was as easy as that. Again the armor proved to be a bastille of lust. However, you figured this would entice him enough to lead to further exchange later, in his quarters. Heightening the craving for both of you.

Taunting and tantalizing him long enough you gave Krennic some relief as you took him into your mouth, and further into your throat until your lips were buried against his base. You quickly suppressed a gag before moving back out and in once again. Knowing what he liked, you could make quick work of it but decided to draw it out only slightly longer than it needed to be.

Curse his strong resolve. The only recognition you got over your unsavory, sloppy, wanton noises were a throaty exhale and the stress of synthleather glove over a clenching hand. Tracing patterns with your tongue, using that in tandem with your lips and just the right pressure- though he gave you no warning, you had a good guestimate and it was no surprise when he finished in your mouth. You welcomed the alkali taste, twinged with salt, in this moment it tasted like sweet victory.

Glancing up you saw he had given in to slouch back against the wall, eyes shut tight. You pulled a grin while you slurped every last bit, and swallowing it down. An arm shook furtively before pounding on the solid panel Krennic leaned against before he straightened himself. Knowing full well he would not tolerate anymore of this foolishness now you still tried your luck as you turned your face, rubbing the mixture of fluids on your lips as though it was a balm.

“You stall important Imperial business, for carnal desires. And now you think you are being cute?” Krennic shoved you away staunchly, but you easily braced yourself on an arm from your crouched position. You chuckled. Usually a surprise blowjob would put a man in a upbeat mood, but this had the opposite effect on an already short temper, so you felt for any officer or engineer that tried the Director’s patience the rest of the day.

“No one will be able to smell your cum on my breath under my helmet.” Hoisting your rifle, with headgear soundly tucked beneath your arm as you righted yourself, you smugly announced “But it might be hard to hide that spit on your pants from the peering eyes of Imperial Officers.”

It had been something he wouldn’t have noticed through his gloves but with your comment he looked down to find a fairly distinctive pattern soaked into the crotch of his white pants.

Disdain spread across his face and filled his voice to brimming. “Whore”, he cursed.

You had been called worse, and strived for even better so the remark was regarded with a laughter that came out as pure static through the vocalizer as you resecured your armor.

The Director made an abrupt about-face and took off haughtily through the corridor back towards the turbolift. It was your job to follow every step, and it was back to duty as usual.

#Director Krennic #orson krennic #director orson krennic #NSFW #Star Wars #reader insert #director krennic x reader #Orson Krennic x Reader #star wars reader insert

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 6 (Viserys x Reader fic)

Chapter 5

Original Link

Viserys POV

Forcefully squinting against the sunlight streaming in with the salty breeze Viserys groaned and rolled in the bed. Burying his face in his pillow he wondered what time it was and why the Seven had seen fit to punish him so. It felt as though the Smith and taken a hammer to his head. Laying there, cursing the distant calls of the gulls drifting in through the opened windows and wishing they would just fall from the sky, he tried to remember the details of the night before.

He had felt restless, eager for his and the Magister’s plans to come to fruition but too nervous to wait. That was until he had seen (Y/N), and the flagon of honey wine. Just the thought of the cloying amber liquid was enough to stir the memories from when he was hugging onto the house fern only hours before. Viserys rolled back over, shielding his precious eyes with his arm, and taking a deep breath in and out to ease his stomach. Some food would do him good, but he would be damned if he was ready to get up yet.

His nose was buried in the crook of one arm but the other languidly moved up where his fingers tapped along to the pounding in his head, thrumming on the bare skin of his chest. Yes, she undressed me he recalled, thinking of his clothes discarded in a pile on the floor. Compelled he asked himself Why did I not command her to get in bed with me? Then the thought of commands got him sifting through the events of the night before, piecing it together. He recalled her hounding him every step here, even after his attempts to send her away, but she hadn’t listened. She had even had the gall to tell him to ‘Stand up’ and ‘Get in bed’.

Feeling unlike himself he wondered why he hadn’t berated her, who was she to give orders after all. HE was the King. HE was the Last Dragon. But it only raised more questions in his mind instead of allowing him to dismiss it. Why hadn’t she woken the dragon? He heard himself say it in his mind, all the times he had used that phrase, usually for less. I should have punished her, but hopefully the wine is doing that for me. However in that same thought he shifted slightly and got a shooting pain, withdrawing it, imagining her feeling as miserable as he did. Why though? When normally he would not only want to share the pain brought upon him but actively planning some retaliation for the insult to his station.

Deciding being in bed, unable to escape from his own thoughts, was worse than the physical discomfort Viserys forced himself up to his feet. He slipped back into his clothes because he had to be presentable, putting on his regal appearances even if he didn’t feel like it. Another lesson his father had always impressed on him.

His first action was to actually slam the shutters on the window, leaning his back against them as he stepped into his breeches. Likewise he staggered about the room as he fitted back into his clothes, but when he sat to put on his boots on he couldn’t help but fall back into the soft feather bed. He landed with a poof, his tired eyes blinking slowly as they traced over the colorful mosaic tiled on the ceiling.

Almost as soon as his head touched back down the thoughts started again. She’s only lied to me once and it was to get me to quit the wine. If only she’d done it sooner..bringing his fingers up to press in front of his ears and rub his temples. Otherwise everything she says is honest, wearing her heart on her sleeve. That or she’s an incredible lair. Either way, I certainly see why she is one of Illyrio’s most trusted agents.

Viserys sighed moodily, again tortured by the thoughts of doubt, if he could ever find someone to trust. Loyalty.. But why try to find someone when you could steal someone. He sat up as fast his weary body would let him, pulling on his boots as he decided to start recruiting some agents of his own.

Forcing himself back into his confident strides Viserys stalked downstairs. First he went to the kitchen, but after not finding the Magister there as he’d expected, he remembered the plea of his stomach. He sat at the wide feasting table by himself, and one of the servants came and began piling trays up around him. “Do you know (Y/N)?” he asked offhandedly as a plate of candied figs was set down in front of him. Too sweet he reeled, feeling as though he would be unable to ever eat anything with honey again, pushing them away disgustedly as the stammered answer came from over his shoulder. “I-I do, Your Grace.”

Turning away from the food he looked back at the girl, it had been the same one as that first night he’d met (Y/N). He could see the fear in her eyes, he could practically smell it on her. “Tell me about her.” it wasn’t a friendly invitation despite the sly grin that graced his face.

The serving girl took a step back from where she had nearly been hovering over the table, resting her arms down to her sides. “What? do you want to know?”  she asked sheepishly, forgetting to be overly polite in her concern.

“Anything” he responded cheerfully, tilting his head to add “Everything.”

Similar requests, similar concerns were shared among a few more of the servants. Each one only offering small tidbits of information, obvious things he’d already learned about her, and most if them he’d heard from her own mouth. That was why when none of the servants had been helpful he was relieved to see her at dinner that night.

It was much the same as the dinner they had shared weeks past, (Y/N) and Illyrio trading stories from all around Pentos, silly meaningless things. Viserys did find himself pausing, waiting for an answer as Illyrio inquired if she had a new job lined up as she was no longer needed at the Khal’s.

With a slight chuckle to his straightforward question she replied “No. I fear the Pentoshii nobles don’t have as many children as they used to.”

She and the Magister shared a deep laugh together, perhaps it was some insinuation about Pentos’ backwards political system. But wasting little time Illyrio proposed “Then why don’t you stay and be a Governess to our Princess. Perhaps you could share some of your knowledge, about Dothraki culture with her.”

Viserys’ attention was drawn away from where he watched (Y/N)’s face attentively to his left side as Daenerys had squeaked like a mouse. He assumed it was because of her fear of the horselords and wrote it off as no more than that. “Yes, that would be very helpful.” he insisted, looking across the table at (Y/N) once more.

With a smile that exceeded being just polite she nodded. “I would be honored to teach the Khalakki Rhaesh Andahli * ”

*Princess of the Seven Kingdoms (Dothraki)

Chapter 7

Index

#viserys targaryen #viserys #viserys x reader #viserys targaryen x reader #viserys/reader #viserys targaryen/reader #taming the dragon #game of thrones #asoiaf #reader insert

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 5 (Viserys x Reader fic)

Chapter 4

Original Link

Warnings: Vomiting

‘lajak’ - Dothraki for warriors.

Viserys’ stories had become rambling but the way he smiled as he talked about the Seven Kingdoms was enchanting. Only once the conversation had turned to the fond, distant memories of loved ones then to more somber thoughts as the deal with the Khal twisted in him. You had been able to learn, from everything Illyrio had asked for you to watch and Viserys’ sentiments about Dany having a husband instead of him, you had learned the true nature of the plan. It was obvious what Viserys had wanted out of the deal, first hand in the Khal’s own house you had seen all of the fierce lajak. The desire for an army all the more obvious from his mood when he was talking of his ‘home’.

He’d emptied another cup and reached for the flagon but you beat him to it, heaving it with unneeded strength. “Oh, it’s empty..” you lied. For your sake and his. It was clear you’d both had enough and perching over a wall that offered no landing except for the steep cliff and the distant sandy beach below was not the best idea.

“That is too bad” he reflected, narrowing his eyes in a disbelieving stare.

“Perhaps it’s for the best. I am sure you have many matters to attend to, and I wouldn’t want to keep you up all night.” you shrugged, slipping off of the edge of the railing to stand. You had grown stiff sitting there for hours, it hadn’t been the most comfortable chair after all. So you stretched above your head and twisted a knot out of your back, by the time you looked back Viserys had stood as well.

It was some ungodly hour of the night, as even the red priests had crawled to their beds, and the torches in the courtyard below had guttered out leaving moonlight as the only illumination. That was no matter to you, Illyrio’s manse was mapped out in your mind and you didn’t need your eyes to walk about.

“Shall we retire then?” Viserys asked flatly.

“Yes” you responded softly, your body was ready but you would be remiss for his company. It had been quite the evening. “Allow me to help you to your quarters” pausing to chuckle before you mused “For the night is dark and full of stairs.” You giggled at your own clever joke as you stepped forward, delicately reaching with one hand to Viserys’ arm.

The arm he ripped away at your touch. “I can find it myself.” he seethed, taking slight.

“Suit yourself” you shrugged and breezed past him, not willing to argue it. You’d tried to help and if he twisted an ankle, or his neck, then it would be his fault. You knew the steps by heart, finding and gracefully flowing down them to await at the bottom by one of the flowering trees, the fruity fragrance accompanying you as you awaited Viserys.

His voice cut the air, speaking some language you didn’t know followed by some clattering. You slapped your hand over your mouth and held in the laugh as he appeared at the bottom, adjusting his tunic and glaring at you. You slid your fingers down to prop up your chin as you flashed a pleasant smile his way, hoping in the darkness he hadn’t seen the way it perked up at the edges into a flaunting smirk.

Despite himself he smiled back, before haughtily turning towards the front gate. You mirrored his steps, lingering just behind. He glanced over his shoulder as he reached the door, grunting in between words as he tried to pull it open “I..told you..I can.. do it myself.”

Crossing your arms and placing your weight on one leg, jutting out your hip you nod. “I know..but you’ll have to use the side door. They barred that one hours ago.”

Viserys let go of the great ironwrought handle to spin and face you “With me outside?!”

You shrugged “They didn’t know.” you soothed, for his sake and the servants, before gesturing with your head for him to follow.

This time he didn’t protest, just held himself high as he walked abreast with you. “Don’t you have your own house to be returning to?” he asks, the question was genuine not venomous.

You tilt your head to see him looking intently over at you as he pushes through some of the low hanging willowy branches.You smirk and shake your head “Walk through Pentos this time of night? No. Illyrio has plenty of beds.” You hoped knowing you weren’t tailing him and actually heading inside to find your own room would ease him out of his defensive state. It might have worked but you couldn’t tell, just feeling a strange tingle on the back of your neck from the way he was watching you out of the corner of his eye and despite your efforts you cannot decode whatever message is held behind that analyzing gaze.

Pushing those thoughts aside you jump ahead a few steps as you approach the side door. Using your body you block his view as you slip the secret key out from the hiding place in a false brick, pushing the door open after it clicks in release. Turning back around, you gesture Viserys inside while behind your back your other hand slips the key into it’s place.

You ignore his glare while stepping past you, stalking right behind him while shutting the door and flipping the bolt from inside. Silently the two of you walk down the meandering halls. Outside it had been easy to dismiss his unsteady steps for the uneven ground but now on the masterfully carved stone floors you could see how bad he truly was staggering. When he tripped over, something, most likely his own feet, you reacted before you could think as your fingers darted out to graze his shoulder while he steadied himself with one hand on the wall.

“I’m fine” you heard him grumble as he barely shied away from your grip. You drew your hand back to your side and just kept following him, ignoring the fact your room was on the first floor as you took the steps after him. He was obviously not fine, there had been an unsettling gurgle in his words and you knew you couldn’t sleep unless you saw him safely in bed. Didn’t want ‘the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms’ to break his neck tripping, especially when he’d nearly done that once already.  

It was a good thing you did because when he’d reached the top of the stairs, or thought he had, his foot caught the last step and landed him flat on his face and planted his nose into the myrish carpet that lined the steps and the upstairs corridor. You shook with laughter as you lunged down to check on him.

“Get your hands off me!” he cried, rolling away from you and onto his back. His hands rested on his stomach and you could see his eyes spinning and the queezy look on his face.

After giving him a moment’s reprieve you urged “Get up.” Looking down with a smug grin from where you sat on the top step you saw as he shook his head, not speaking but it apparent on his face he was feeling sick and ready to just stay in that spot. “Give me your hands” you cooed, holding out open palms and wiggling your fingers invitingly. Again he shook his head so with a giggle you leaned over and firmly grabbed around either of his wrists and pulled him with you as you stood.

This time you were met by much less resistance, he even wrapped an arm over your shoulder as he found his feet. With a smile you walked him down the hallway, one hand resting on his back and the other with your fingers helping support the arm thrown over you. Until he lurched away, for one of the potted house plants lining the hall. He fell to his knees in front of it and by the way his back was heaving you knew the wine wasn’t sitting right with his stomach.

Solemnly you knelt next to him, stroking up and down his spine. In silence you let things take it’s course, your other hand coming up to gently smooth his platinum hair from his face. You were so quiet that it was easy to hear the creak of a door behind you. Glancing over your shoulder you saw the only other pair of violet eyes framed by silver hair in the house. You tipped your head as Dany poked her head out further from her doorway.

Rid of some of the troublesome wine Viserys just gripped onto the ceramic edge of the potted plant. With a sigh you whispered “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” patting him gently before lifting off your knees. The timid hatchling had scurried back into her room but greeted you with an attempt at a smile as you looked around the edge at her.

“Your brother will be fine” you nodded lightly, trying to quell the worry that darkened her face. With a slight giggle you explain “Too much wine.” By the grimace she pulled you could tell it was not the first time.

Glancing around the room you noticed the dim light of a candle on the table and an open book beside it. She hadn’t been asleep, made even more apparent by the circles under her eyes. “I am putting him to bed. You should try to sleep too.” you say while gesturing towards her untouched sheets. Daenerys followed your motion, then turned back to you with a small nod.

“Sweet dreams.” you offer with a smile before turning. But as you take your first step to return to her brother you’re stopped by her softly stammered words “T-thank you.” Twisting around you throw her a nonchalant shrug, “No worries” you try to assure her hoping she understood that you were being quite genuine.

You strode away back down the hall, relieved to hear the faint click of her door behind you. Viserys was sitting exactly as you left him. So you dropped down next to him, laying your palm on his far shoulder. But at your touch he shot upright, there was a moment of fear followed by, relief? as his eyes traced your face. The color, what little of it was naturally there, had returned to his skin. He looked worlds better. Quirking an eyebrow you asked “Ready for bed?”

Viserys replied with a faint smile, placing a hand on your arm as you stood in unison. His room was only a short distance away as you soon found yourself at his door. He swung it open, stepping inside and taking you with him as his arm was still looped over your shoulders. Amused you glanced around, distinctly remembering this was where Illyrio’s room had been, and was the largest in the manse. Illyrio really is bartering for his favor you thought. The look of the puffy mattress made your body ache for your own, not having a proper night’s rest since you had been spending most of your time in the stuffy and crowded servant’s quarters in the Khal’s mansion.

Eager for some rest you step out from under Viserys’ arm to face him. Knowing he would probably just collapse as he was you decided to help him further, you’d brought him all the way here after all. So your fingers went to the tie at the bottom of his collar and without a word you undid the knots. You could feel the eyes on your face but decided it best not to look and just slid the overshirt off over his shoulders. Viserys did at least wriggle his arms out to offer some assistance, letting it fall to the floor.

As you lifted the loose linen shirt from where it had been tucked in his trousers you wondered how he could stand to wear so many layers. While Pentos didn’t have the reputation of being as warm as Lys, the muggy weather was still oppressive, even to you living there all your life. But thoughts of weather were forgotten as you lifted the shirt over his head, clearing your throat- reminding yourself to just get him in bed so you could go sleep, as your eyes traced down his bare chest and following the faint line of black hair into his last article of clothing.

You focused on keeping a straight face, not belying your sudden nervousness as you untied the laces on his pants. While you tugged them down past his hips you heard the faint chuckle, unable to stop yourself from looking up through your eyebrows at the pompous smirk on Viserys’ face. Scoffing under your breath you just finish pulling them down around his ankles and leaving him in not but his smallclothes. With that you stand, pointing back to his bed as your other hand cups his upper arm.

When he doesn’t move you glance to his face, finding him taken aback, perhaps a little hurt. Tipping your head you state firmly “Get in bed.”

“So, you didn’t-” Viserys mumbled following your finger to the bed before looking back at you.

“I brought you here so you could get some sleep.” you assured, gently pushing him towards it.

He didn’t resist and stepped in time with you. It was barely audible from where he muttered under his breath but you heard him say “I can’t figure you out.” As you reached the edge of the bed he stopped to stare down at you, his amethyst eyes focused into your being and trying to read you as his head slightly turned from side to side. “I’m a King..” you could see there was more to that thought but just gave him a playful shove that toppled him back onto the bed.

“You, Your Grace, are very drunk.” you explained as you wrested the covers from underneath him just to flick them over the top of his body. Out of the corner of your eye you can still see him following your every move with his looking-glass eyes. It was unnerving. Something about their color, like pale lilacs in Spring and his silver-gold hair - the blood of Old Vayria.  There was magic in those features. Snapping yourself out of it you announce “Good night” striding from the room and not daring to take another look back.

Chapter 6

Index

#viserys targaryen #viserys #viserys x reader #viserys targaryen x reader #viserys/reader #viserys targaryen/ reader #reader insert #game of thrones #asoiaf #taming the dragon

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 4 (Viserys x Reader fic)

Chapter 3

Original Link

Warnings: Drinking/Alcohol Use

Viserys POV

(Y/N) sprawled on the lavish floor pillows, and continued on as if he wasn’t even there. It was Illyrio who seemed intimidated by his presence, cowing and seeking his approval, wishing to include him. “That’s very interesting, is it not, Your Grace?”

Viserys glanced over to the fat man, waving his fingers to acknowledge in the same instant he turned back to watch (Y/N). She produced a hand drawn map of the Khal’s manse, she detailed the aspects of the party from what wine they chose to each guest. He and Magister Illyrio had been making arrangements of their own. There would be a fine Meerenese silk dress sewn for Daenerys and Illyrio had assured there would be gold and gems to match, everything they needed to show the Khal she was a Targaryen Princess.

He listened to every word, analyzed every inflection, watched every ounce of body language. His father had seen him trained with Varys, the Master of Secrets, when he was young.

The boy must know when they are lying to him. Once there was a time every soul in Westeros feared the Targaryen’s and now they think us fools! Everyone will try to deceive him, and if Rhaegar does betray me- Viserys will take the throne. He must be a strong king. We have to make them fear us again.

A conversation of years long past played in his mind, the raspy, trembling voice of his father ringing in his ears. That night he’d had that gleaming, rabid look in his eyes, the one that always made his mother send him off to study his letters.

They called him Aerys the Mad King. And though none dared say that name in the presence of the young Prince, he’d heard it often enough whispered in the halls. And while he may have been…irrational, the world had taught Viserys the truth of his father’s words. Hidden daggers told him not to trust anyone. The kind words, and eager help that had been offered by ‘friends’. Merchant Princes, Nobles from Braavos to Pentos, Magisters, all had started out open handed enough but that all changed. Their amorous stares, greed of befriending the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, soured to bitter glares as if he was a diseased pauper, a raving mad man. What they didn’t know was that he would reclaim his lands, his throne and then they would regret turning him away when he was in need. He reveled in the thought of the cheese-mongers turning up to him to ask for fairer trade, the spice merchants complaining of taxes, how he looked forward to those days.

Viserys was thankful for his lessons with the Spider. He had learned to catch insects in their own web of lies. The lessons had served him well in the years moving from city to city. How to see one’s nervous twitches when they lied, to perceive if it was an exaggerated truth or straight out fiction. The way someone held themselves and how it belied their emotions, their intentions.

But watching (Y/N) she was nothing but, at ease? Comfort laid in her every word, her honest tone bearing all the layers so there was nothing further to analyze. He still would not dare to speak of his plans with her, he would wait until she left and speak with Illyrio alone. Not that he trusted the Magister either, but he had shown himself to be truly hungry for Viserys’ friendship.

So she shared what she came to share, then politely excused herself. Viserys and Illyrio discussed everything that would happen in the coming month to prepare Dany for meeting the Khal, they talked of how they hoped the night to go, and of days in the future. Once he had heard everything the Magister had to say, he took his leave.

The first stop was to check on Dany in her room. Viserys was delighted to see her sitting there, reading books and for the old gray handmaid who was looming over her asking questions. He strode in confidently and went to read over her shoulder, scooping the hair that was falling into her face so it would tamely lay down her back. “Study hard, sweet sister. Knowledge is a woman’s weapon. Men will always be more powerful with a sword, but your mind should best any man’s.” He stood up straight, smiling at the memory of his mother sharing that little tidbit with him, hoping she would be proud how he was preparing Dany.

A humorous scoff broke the otherwise still of the room as his sister focused on reading, but she immediately broke her attention to look up at her brother, what he’d found funny. “Not that you shall need much wit to deal with the Horselords.” smirking deviously before shrugging and offering “But it’s for every other man you shall meet. I imagine your husband won’t want me around all the time, well enough. So I won’t be able to keep as close an eye on you.” he could see the fear in her eyes. And as much as she might also fear him, the respect and need for his care was greater. The little sister was lost without the older brother to lead the way.

But he knew she was terrified of everything happening with the Khal, she had hardly slept a wink since he’d told her the plan a week past. That reminded him, “And you must sleep tonight. Do you think the Khal wants a girl with bags under her eyes like an old worn-out woman? If you do not I am assured one of the healers can make a draught to put you to sleep, but it’s been known to give terrible nightmares” he leaned his face close to hers now, his voice strained as if he had been telling one of the ghost stories of the Others. Dany squeaked at that and covered her mouth with her hands. Viserys raised his eyebrows and gestured to the bed “Then you must sleep” standing now and walking to leave the room, pausing long enough to add “or don’t think I won’t use it.”

The echoing steps were the only thing to accompany him as he walked the manse. Viserys feebly searched for something to occupy him, when what he really set out for was a way to speed up time so he could see the pieces of his plan begin to fall into place. There was the Magister’s libraries, but he had read all the dry tomes worth reading ten times over by now. He craved a story of Aegon, or Nymeria, something to sate his lust for a concurring force arriving to sweep all under their rule. The Free Cities had their share of conquest and blood, Viserys only read them to gain the experiences of another culture but they weren’t his stories. Regardless of the fact that he’d spent more time away from Westeros than in it, everything across the narrow sea was foreign to him, and always would be.

Eventually his restless mind and wandering feet found themselves walking for the wall. Somehow staring at the sea with a plan in mind made his heart ache less for home, loosened the grip of responsibilities that hung around his neck like a hangman’s noose. Fleetly he climbed the stairs, only to be surprised by what he found at the apex. (Y/N) was sitting atop the railing, one leg dipped over the side and the other resting up on a table. A table that held a flagon and a cup identical to the one in her hand.

“What are you doing up here?” he questioned as he stepped up onto the platform.

Without even looking his way, eyes focused on the beach some yards below, the gentle sound of waves crashing on the sand the only background to her answer “Enjoying a beautiful summer evening.” But now she turned to face him, a smile lighting up her face as she held up her cup, saying with a laugh “and some wine. Care to join me?”

Viserys grasped the stem of the goblet, holding it out “Yes, I believe I shall.” But when he only got an amused look from (Y/N), and she made no move to fill his cup, did his swelled ego deflate. Internally grumbling how he was a King and should never have to pour for himself, having gotten quite used to the aspect of having servants around, he filled the glass anyway.

He threw one of his long legs over the wall to straddle it as well, looking straight across to (Y/N). She smiled again, raising her glass and tipping her head before taking a sip. Viserys joined her in the silent toast and only after she had taken a deep gulp did he try his own. A honey wine. He was pleasantly surprised, a welcome break from the usual stock of sour reds that filled the better part of Illyrio’s cellars.

They finished their first cups in silence aside from the lulling sound of the sea. This time (Y/N) leaned forward, grabbing the tankard and filling his before pouring for herself. The last few drops falling into her glass caused him to look listlessly around for some servant to fetch them more. That was when he heard the metallic tink of the glass being set on the stone ���I didn’t think Illyrio would miss one cask”. She had set down her glass to reach for the cloth strewn across the table, flipping it up to reveal it was infact a barrel of wine. He eyed her with surprise, to which she giggled while stroking one hand across the top of the barrel and whined “Poor thing was forgotten, shoved all the way in the back.”

Viserys took a sip and mused “It must have been so lonely”.

“Oh, quite” she grunted as her dagger pried open the top of the barrel. She dipped it down into the barrel, the flagon greedily gulping up the cloying wine and dripping as she removed it. Golden dribbles tracing along the glass to be caught by her fingers. Viserys watched over the top of his cup as she drew them up the length, and sucked the liquid off. She glanced to him as she slurped her middle finger, their gazes met as her face turned bright red under his grin. But that didn’t last as she looked away mumbling “It’s a shame to waste good wine”.

Viserys chuckled at her shyness, only hours earlier she boldly undressed herself, knowing he was there, and now she blushes at his smirk. Hurriedly she used the pommel of her dagger to hammer the lid back into the barrel, reset the tablecloth and the flagon. By then she had regained herself, settling back in to stare across the water. “Tell me” she mumbled quietly, looking out of the corner of her eye to meet where he still watched her every move “of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Feeling as sweet as the wine he mused under his breath “My home.” He swirled his cup, staring into the golden liquid as if it held a story in it’s depths. In a way it did, the sticky sweet taste of honey on his tongue brought forth a memory. “When I was a boy, we travelled to some flower festival, a weak excuse for a tournament and for Mace Tyrell to host my family. There was red tulips as far as the eye could see.“

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise but then softened to a sweet smile. She expected some story of Aegon, or a bitter telling of the Usurper’s rebellion. A story of strong knights and fair maidens..

"We had gardens in King’s Landing, but” he admitted humbly “Highgarden’s did put it to shame. Their’s stretched the entire inner yard, something always in bloom. They even boast massive glass gardens, growing roses even in the depths of winter.”

She was enraptured by the story, tucking her legs up and looking like a child at story time, her eager eyes glued to his face. “House Tyrell’s sigil is a rose. So they grow them in every color you can imagine. My mother and I walked the gardens, gathering one of each. We made a crown of roses and took turns wearing it.” He laughed deeply, a new part of the memory coming back to him “Even my father wore it, to a meeting with Mace Tyrell and everyone was too afraid to comment on it so he wore it around for an entire day.”

That beautiful ringing sound greeted his ears once more, her eyes crinkling as she laughed. “Who would dare question the King about what crown he chose to wear.”

Viserys tilted his head, lifting his mug to his lips to speak into it. “Especially my father” hummed in the glass as he took a sip. Watching her he could see the shining look of intrigue in her eyes, the way she was studying him as well, and took the wiser course of not bringing up any further questions on his father. Part of him wondered if she had heard stories of the Mad King, how much she truly knew about the Seven Kingdoms. Instead Viserys brought the cup down, his wrists resting across his legs as he inquired “Do you know how a tournament works in the Seven Kingdoms?”

Pleased with the new subject she shook her head, her intent stare begging him to continue. So Viserys leaned forward, explaining every intricacy from the reasons why a tourney was held to the customs. In vivid detail he recounted some of the most renowned fights that had gone into storybooks. By the time they were two more glasses in he found himself spending an unusual amount of time on the awards given out, knighthoods or announcing new squires, but most of all about the Queen of Love and Beauty.

It was the wine, it had to be he told himself. But her gentle smile, the way she hung on his every word and somehow still seemed so calm and collected, it was irresistible. Apparently the same as the wine as he finished the bottom dregs of another. He found that he could handle his fair share, especially since his stay with Illyrio where it seemed to flow anytime of the day.

And flow it did as (Y/N) reached for the flagon to fill his cup again, her hand coming to rest on the back of his as she poured. He had told himself to slow down but found they had gotten onto the topic of siblings, perhaps some tournament story of Rhaegar’s, and (Y/N) was describing the little brother she’d had ‘a lifetime ago’. To which he mentioned Daenerys. “I have taken care of her all her life. But she’s thirteen, a woman grown now-”

However he was cut off by with a snobbish laugh as (Y/N) shook her head dismissively. “She is not grown. I have ten years on her and I am still growing.” Viserys eyed her up and down suspiciously, impressed he had correctly gathered her age to be close to his own and then wondering how she had meant ‘growing’. Only the very back of his mind questioned why she had interrupted him, disagreeing with no qualms for his opinion. Noticing this she laughed, looking down at her body before playfully rolling her eyes “Growing, changing. Always learning something new.” He certainly hadn’t thought it was physically.

He shook away any misgivings, moving instead to the deeper thought that plagued him, that look in Dany’s eye earlier when she was studying in her room. “I have been with her nearly every day of her life…” the plans still churning in his stomach, even if he was set on getting back his kingdom there was a pang of guilt. “She won’t know what to do with herself. I suppose she will just listen to her husband not her brother. Still just being a child.” That’s what she was. Viserys had still only regarded her as such, but it was Illyrio who always insisted now that she’d had her blood she was fit to wed. Surely that was true, however he couldn’t help but think of the little who would sneak into his chambers in the middle of the night, spouting stories of nightmares and begging to crawl under the covers with him.

He also remembered of the timid fear that hid behind Dany’s porcelain mask, just earlier that day. She was terrified by the thought of the Khal, the thought that her big brother wouldn’t be around to guide her. She didn’t want this, Viserys still wasn’t entirely sure he did but how was she to understand what they were missing. Dany didn’t have the same drive he did to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms. She didn’t want to read books and study languages, she wanted to go play in the fountains with the other children. But they couldn’t do that. He was the last dragon and she the last Targaryen princess. Their line ended there.

Chapter 5

Index

#Taming The Dragon #viserys #viserys targaryen #viserys x reader #viserys targaryen x reader #viserys/reader #viserys targaryen/reader #female reader #reader insert

[secretshamewriting]

Stabilizing.. (Soldier 76 x Reader)

On AO3 Warnings: Blood, Mild Swearing

I have more ideas for a continuation on this, but nothing has been written yet. 

C’mon, soldier. Move! Move! Move! The old days at boot camp always stuck with him, had helped him become who he was. That, and all the chemicals. A long time ago, he had been Jack Morrison, Strike Commander of Overwatch. Now he associated more with the title than the name. Jack had died in the explosion in Switzerland, he’d been to the grave out at Arlington. A Soldier was all he was now, one that went by 76 for anonymity, and the drill sergeant barked in his head “Never leave a teammate behind.”

Your eyes twisted from the laser focus they’d had, looking down the cement hallway at the far end where a door was labeled with reflective stickers like you might find on a mailbox. The old man is rambling again you thought, but looking at the mask that covered him from eyebrow to chin you had no way to be sure. 76 was convinced you had a concussion, so it could all be in your head. You tried looking back at what had previously stopped the world from spinning, but while your eyes trailed their way back down the hall the way you came, you noticed “We left an awful lot of blood.”

“You” 76 corrected in that gruff voice of disapproval. “And besides, there’s a blood stain on the wall by the vending machine. No one saw us, and there wasn’t any shots fired here. A trail of blood means nothing at a seedy place like this.”

True. The only thing this place had going for it was it didn’t charge by the hour, so at least there was that to cut down on the foot traffic.

You watched the splotchy white railing that was fixed to the outward side of the hallway, being eaten away by rust dancing like heat waves off of asphalt in the summertime. There was definitely a major blood loss factor working into your wobbly consciousness. It was a good thing you had the Soldier there, a strong arm around your waist to hold you up since for all you could tell your left side was still not operational, you couldn’t feel it yet anyway. Only your right side worked, the full organics, fingers clutching onto a strap of his shoulder holsters and one leg holding your weight. “We should have had that room..” you mumble to yourself this time, thinking the text of the glossy numbers at the end of the hall matched that on the back of his jacket, if you squint.

The pulse rifle was the first thing through the door, tossed underhand to slightly spring off the closest mattress before settling. In one motion you were lifted over his shoulder and were through the doorway. His other hand pulled the key and slammed the door, and grabbed the medical kit on the table while briskly walking you back to the bathroom. Setting you down on the lid of the toilet the first thing 76 did was activate a biotic field, leaving the device to balance on the far edge of the ceramic sink basin. It could only be so useful, especially with limited charges, but it was the reason you had made it this far.

“First of all,” he stated matter of factly, “if I’m going to patch you up the suit’s gotta come off.”

“Jesus Christ,” you said in complete bewilderment of how you could make such a normally simple task happen. It had been a long day. “I’ll try, sir.” Weakly, and with one hand you unclipped the buckles holding your own bandoliers, and unzipped the HSI armor suit. It was meant to help protect you but now it was your greatest enemy. Even in unzipping it and the flex in the otherwise tightly fitting garment it became apparent that dried blood attached the frayed edges of the resilient weave to the open wounds scattered across your torso and it was already starting to pull and rip.

You had worked it up, not even to your belly button yet, cringing and biting back groans of pain. That all went out the window when it was ripped over your head. You scream in agony while from the experienced combat veteran explains “You’re bleeding out. We don’t have time to baby it.”

You weren’t sure if he was cleaning your wounds with turpentine or what but ever since the suit had been ripped off your nerves alternated between stinging and burning, telling the story of every cut and scrape on your back. Leaning against 76’s leg was the only thing had stopped you from hitting the floor, and even though the smaller nicks’ pain ebbed the larger ones only grew. It didn’t help when they were violated by the point of a pair of tweezers. You tried to rear away from the unnatural feeling but found the old man's forearm had your chest pinned to his thigh. Tink. The soft sound of a chunk of glass hitting the ceramic was followed shortly by more. But you supposed getting thrown through several plate glass windows would do that.

There was no pain meds in sight, and even anything readily available would be more on the side of an NSAID and only make you bleed more. So instead you did your best to tough it out, grunting and groaning, sucking in anguished breaths. He didn’t complain but you were most certainly digging your nails into 76’s leg too hard where you were bracing yourself.

“You’re going to need stitches.” 76 explained, while he eased you up to lean back against the tank. He took a sidestep to open the medical kit, withdrawing the surgical steel needle and the microfilament line. You had done the same for him before, so it was simply time to return the favor. And with a sideways glance he decided to grab the bar of soap too, stating “Here.”

You stared aghast at the green block. “You know I’m gonna be cussing and preemptively washing my mouth out with soap?”

“Not taking the chance you’d bite your tongue off, so shut up and bite down.” all but shoving it into you mouth. Taking the same position you had prior he assuaged you back down to lean against his leg. He was about to start the process, but took the second to give you reassurance. “There’s three that are going to need it. Stay still, and we’ll have this over with quick.”

“Bones heal, pain is temporary,” you said with all the weight of a mantra, taking a breath to calm yourself and finishing with “and scars look good.” before chomping down on what was your improvised bit. The alkali taste already mixed with your saliva, coating your tongue, but it was a small distraction from the pain. Gripping on, even straining what you could feel above your left elbow to wrap behind his knee, you nodded.

You felt the distinct moment the point of the needle poked through your skin, felt the thread sliding through, the two severed sides of flesh touch, and the tug of the knot. Over and over. You had tried to count but instead focused more on biting down, it helped you to dissociate, which was as good as you could do without any anesthetic. There was something satisfying about the waxy feel of it giving way to your teeth.

Scars, 76 remarked to himself as he worked. He had battled the world over, seen some of the worst violence in mankind; some stitches in a bathroom were pretty tame. Still, he worried. She’ll have a few more of those now. The thought brought his eyes away from his work, just for a moment, to flit up to the brazen, jagged line of scar tissue that traced down from the hairline on the back of your neck to your left trapezius. Pulling together another knot he thought how it was one you had carried with you most of your life, that had been your souvenir of the End of the Crisis while he had gotten medals. And now you were going to be covered in them, all because you were foolish enough to help an old man that didn’t know when to quit.

You focused on your breathing, and before you knew it you were done, feeling the tap on your shoulder before the two large hands closed on your biceps to help pull you to your feet.

Instinctually you stumbled to the sink, spitting the soap out to skate around the basin with a deep and complete set of your dental records along for the ride. Handful after handful of water wasn’t enough to get the taste of whatever idyllic spring you were sure was as fake as the Leprechaun on the box out of your mouth. Your tongue still thrust in reaction to the lingering zing of freshness, stuck to the back of your throat it was enough to make you want to vomit even if you couldn’t be that dramatic. You had registered the sensation of gauze pads being taped to your back but it was only as you caught your reflection in the mirror, seeing 76 standing behind you, stoically caring for your wounds.

When had he removed his tactical visor? You weren’t sure, but you took comfort in the small things, sighing as you straighten your elbows to push yourself up off of the sink. You could still remember a time when he even slept with the damn thing on just so you wouldn’t see his face. The feeling of gravel in your skin dug at your forearm, and feeling more confident now that the servos in your left hand wouldn’t give out and send you back down into the sink you picked up and turned your right arm to investigate. A pebble of sticky red glass had made a small indent in your skin, it seemed to like to you, first your back now your arm. You plucked it lightly, and gathered the rest of the handful discarded in the impromptu work area and tossed them right in the trash can.

You used your palm to wipe droplets of water from beside your mouth, and taking a moment of reprieve before saying “Good lookin out, old man.” and taking another breath before offering a sincere, truly from the heart “Thank you.”

“We’re not done,” 76 had a hint of amusement, in the mirror you could see him raise one eyebrow as he explained, “Hate to be the bearer of bad news but your leg is next.”

You looked down, seeing the small pool of blood forming near your heel. Your boot was full of enough blood it had found some way out. Twisting your leg you winced in pain and held onto the sink, groaning “Oh. There is definitely glass in there.” It grated against muscle tissue and nerves. “Thaaat’s gonna be fun.” Sarcasm was always a good coping mechanism. But at least it isn’t in my buttcheek you allowed, already almost doubling over again.

Fingers pushed inside the waistband, and you knew they were about to get the same ‘ripping a band-aid off’ treatment as your shirt had. Immediately you pleaded “The suit is already ruined, just cut ‘em off.”

76 had hated the suit, he thought it made you act like you were tougher. More foolhardy than anything. But you had adored it the moment you came across it one of Helix Securities bases, and it was the first time you felt like you had a real uniform. You had finally been really, really ready for combat. Shhhrrrip! The blade of the knife glided right through the fabric after the initial yanking, saw motion it took to start.

“Their mach 2 better have some improvements. This armorweave was shit.” You spoke just to say something, trying to be casual, even to take your own mind off of the fact that was now settling in. You hadn’t been down to your skivvies in front of the Soldier before, even though there had now been months of you sharing hotel rooms all over the world. It had never come up.

Embarrassed, in mismatched bra and panties with half of your ass hanging out, you looked to the ceiling and blinked rapidly to hold back the tears that tried to well up. Not even so much out of shame, or your lack of confidence in your body image- even if it was a turbulent pool of several confusing emotions. It was more about concern. Concern for the man that was showing you so much right now. You gripped onto the porcelain of the free standing sink much like he had been your anchor previously as again the point of tweezers dug into your skin.

76 grunted. “Looks like it shattered. This might be ugly.” Not that he couldn’t fix it up, but there was going to be a lot of digging in tender meat to get at all the shards. Tightening his grip on the handful of thigh he had, he gulped and took another appraising look at the gash.

A hiss broke into a dry sob as you felt a particularly barbed piece slide out, and you could only guess some flesh went with it. “I’m sorry,” you blurted it out as a new wave pain came crashing down to not help your watering eyes. You meant for everything, but the fact that weighed on you most in this moment was that “The mission was a failure. We didn’t get what we were after..”

Readjusting his grip, coming at it from a new angle 76 used his thumb and the blade of the hand holding the tweezers to pull the wound apart, able to see even the small pinpoint of the foreign object glistening in your blood. He glanced up, questioning your sentiment, because he had a new mission: Getting you all patched up.

“And I’m really sorry.” You were only digging yourself deeper into misery at this point. “I.. unh- agH!” Maybe talking wasn’t the best idea but you wiped away the only stream of tears you were going to allow away before clamping your arm tighter onto the edge of the basin, the cold seeping into your skin. “The spider tank-- I. I didn’t know what else to do.” Reactivating what had been a previously disabled piece of hardware that had been somewhat of a museum piece for remembrance and stored for safekeeping inside of the warehouse you had raided, and was now a pile of scrap-- it had been your only play when the troops closed in.

You didn’t know much about Soldier: 76, but you did know he was a former Overwatch agent. That he had fought in the Omnic Crisis. And more than anything you worried that activating a raging omnic killing machine designed for one purpose…. Might have hit him too close to home. Several times in your travels his PTSD had been apparent, and though he didn’t seem to have been bothered by it you weren’t exactly in a state to assess someone else mentally, and you were drowning in guilt.

“It was a last re-” you sucked in a breath mid-word as your nerves lit up from toe to cranium, feeling the metal against glass against meat. “Resort. I … just hope it-it didn’t…” You trailed off as you didn’t even know how to finish that sentence. How do you show respect to someone you probably just made relive Hell on Earth? You had no idea.

He’d thought he’d seen it all. Lived it all already. But here, bared and bleeding, him with the necessary yet torturous job… through the pain your anxiety was for his well being. You were worried you had done him some sleight, when the fact was you had singlehandedly saved both of you with that stunt. Just the kind of thing he used to do.

Under his breath, and entirely to himself he expressed his own sentiment with a scoff, calling you a “Sweet girl..”

Before long he had his sweet girl taken care of, all wounds closed and dressed. He left you standing at the sink, returning with a clean shirt from your suitcase that he helped pull over your head. He held your arms as you stepped out of the other leg of your pants that didn’t get cut off of you, and stabilized you as you kicked off your boots.

Guiding you to the bed, 76 chastised “You need to rest. But no sleep for..” looking to the watch on his wrist and approximating the time of the injury “two and a half more hours.”

You nodded, weary, even more tired now that you felt the welcoming embrace of a mattress.

“What can I get you from the vending machine?” his tall frame stooped low to the ground in a squat to look eye to eye with you.

“Cookies?” You weren't hungry, but knew he was going to make you eat anyway; with the blood loss you needed fluids to replenish it and sugar to replace where your levels had surely dropped through the floor. You couldn't recall the poor selection available so you offered a few options. “Doritos? A coke?” As an afterthought you smiled and added “Thanks, old man.”

The TV clicked on, to what channel you couldn’t even guess. “Remember, no dozing off.” 76 chided, before storming off with purpose and leaving you with your thoughts that were jumbled and vague. It did serve to help you remember however.

Panic struck as he returned to the room and you weren't where he’d left you. Standing in the doorway he took the obligatory look around to access the situation. It was quiet and you couldn't have gone far. The sweep of the small room quickly turned up with you sitting on the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the bathtub with one arm perched on the rim, your tattered suit pulled close, and the field computer sitting on your lap.

“I forgot” you had started to explain before you were interrupted by the rough, you-should-be-ashamed-of-yourself tone.

“What are you doing?”

“I recovered a data pack,” you announced proudly, lifting it up for proof, “and the EMP didn't fry it or anything! There is some corruption but mostly it looks like--”

The cord that tethered the data pack to the laptop pulled it from your considerably unimpressive grip, and 76 snatched it up as it fell. He grabbed the computer and still with an armful of snacks he carted it to the other room to set on the table. You were the second load.

Unapologetically you were plopped back down onto the shoddy springs. 76 gathered your pillows into a stack to prop you up before handing you the remote. A buffet of snacks rained down to the empty bed beside you: three bags of non-dorito chips for your selection, a sleeve of lightly salted peanuts, and a whole package of mini Famous Amos cookies. “No coke?” you poked while ripping open the bag of crunchy Cheetos.

“Juice.” 76 replied flatly as he settled in a chair, propping his feet up on the long, squat dresser that also served as TV stand and pulling the laptop onto his legs. “The point is to get hydrated.”

You scoffed and made an uppity face you were sure he saw out of the corner of his eye, before settling in and flipping through channels. Nothing was on, of course, so you settled on an old John Wayne movie as a placeholder, going back to surf on commercials just incase anything had changed. It didn't.

A rough pat on the fleshy part of your leg awoke you from a nap you hadn't realized you started taking. “Not yet,” 76 checked his watch “Thirty-six more minutes.”

You groaned an acceptance and popped a cookie in your mouth as you hit the channel up button again. But really you watched as the Soldier settled back into his spot, ripping off a bite of the beef jerky that made up his dinner while moving the computer back onto his lap. With the occasional click, and lots of scrolling he scoured the miscellaneous administrative reports housed on the old piece of equipment. He might have found something good, you hoped he did, as he picked up the fist sized rectangular hunk of metal and turning it over to smirk at the fading Overwatch insignia on the back.

You had no idea but for his reality this nostalgia was worse than fighting an Omnic tank, and he tormented himself with it all the time. This was his mission now, his new war after Overwatch had been disbanded was to uncover what had happened to it. He lived in old mission reports, data logs, even invoices, and it never failed to put him right back in the old HQ. He could still remember exactly what his office looked like, the taste of strong coffee that got left on the burner too long as he read through briefings.

He got lost in it, and by the time he looked to his watch it was twenty minutes past the four hour mark for your concussion and there you were dozing off once again. 76 resigned himself to the fact he’d found all he was going to today, and as usual he still hadn't uncovered anything he wanted. So stripping down out if his gear, 76 showered and prepped himself for sleep.

You stirred when you felt the mattress shift, finding 76 kneeling beside you. The soft look in his eye gave you a hint to what kind of shape you were really in as he checked with a penlight how your pupils dilated. He began the interrogation with the standard name, date, location. You got the last wrong, but since you two were always on the move it seemed fair to give you that.

“Are you feeling dizzy?”

“I’m sitting,” you sat up slightly from where you had slumped to nap, “but no vertigo.”

“Ringing in your ears? Spots in your vision? Nausea?”

You shook your head in response to all. Then 76 touched the tip of his nose with his left index finger, then the right, then left again and you mimicked it just as he wanted.

“Headache?” he asked, already assuming the answer.

“Yes but all of me aches, it's not exclusive to my head.” You stretched a bit despite the howl of your nerves, covering your face with a bit of your hands before nestling back. There was one thing that concerned you, that you know you better bring up now before you get yelled at about it later. “I… still don't have full feeling back in my left side.. The nerves, wiring..” you corrected “The EMP may have spared the drive but my mechanical parts…”

You glanced down to your left side, articulating the gears of what had been your left hand for the last twenty years, a few mods aside. You raised and lowered your left leg, the metal knee stark compared to flesh that sat above it. They functioned but you could feel somehow it wasn't right. Instinctually the next place you checked was to slip your hand around the base of your skull, doing your best to hide your fear as you looked up into the eyes that had seen so much. “Am I going to be alright?”

“Well,” 76 started, but he was neither a doctor or an engineer, “as far as the concussion I think you’ll be fine. But I am going to wake you up through the night to check on you anyway.” You nodded in agreement that that was the best thing to do. “And.. tomorrow we’ll find an Omnic to fix you up.”

As much as he was a grumpy old man, the mix of worry and assurance on his face was nothing short of touching. You smiled at him thoughtfully before a yawn broke it. Wiping your eyes and rolling over you disassembled the pillow stack, tucking one between your knees to keep the bone off of the steel. The others were a combo for your head and to snuggle. Entering optimal sleeping position as the bed groaned from 76 standing up.

There was the whisper of another hand on another pillow, grabbing the one he kept for himself as any excess was always funneled to you. It was followed by something quite unusual. “Is it okay..” the voice normally full of confidence and command was unsure, tentatively posing “if I lay here? To keep an eye on you.”

You had just been slipping under part of the covers while now wondering if you should pull them down further for him. “Uh-huh.” you bobbed your head along. You knew he never slept with covers, he always ran as hot as a furnace, but still had to question it in the moment. Saving him and yourself from any more awkwardness than the day already had to offer you rolled over and closed your eyes.

The springs creaked in protest as the tall man curled down on the other side than yours. His back was to you as he faced the door and the clock on the nightstand table. Clicking through his watch he quietly announced “I’ll wake you up in two hours to check in…. Good night.”

“Night.” you mumbled into the pillow. Though you wondered what sparked the fact he was going to stay so close when really anywhere in the room wouldn't have been much different, but it was a comfort leaving you feeling safer and more secure than ever. That and the green light to finally sleep, you didn't wonder too long before you drifted off.

The same couldn’t be said of your bed companion. Try as he might to clear his mind for sleep, it never came. Instead he was flooded with memories of Reyes.. Ana… Press conferences came back to him unbidden. Protests from the final days of Overwatch, civilians gathering in the streets to wave signs and yell at him. Everytime he pushed a thought away a new one came to take its place.

As much as he told himself Jack was dead, his life constantly bled into the new one he had tried to fabricate. Even recalling his days, more than a lifetime ago, back on the farm didn't help. His parents were dead, and he hadn’t gotten to attend their funeral because for all they knew they’d outlived their son. The family farm was gone, some company snagging up the land. Summer days off school and working from dawn to dusk on every chore imaginable was washed away in the tide of corporate greed that was as much a part of Overwatch’s fall as the abuses of Blackwatch.

Peeking open an eye to examine the face of his watch, it had only been twenty minutes and he had skimmed the footnotes of some fifty odd years. 76 sighed, and propped up on an elbow enough to turn and appraise your sleeping form. You had basically forced your way into his little operation here, and now you were indispensable. Over time he had cracked, at first not wanting you to be anything more than an asset, but he sure as hell missed having a team. Knowing he had someone to watch his back, and someone he was responsible for too- it helped ground him in the present instead of being a ghost of the past.

But he was a stranger to you, and for that fact he barely knew anymore about you than you knew about him. When he woke you up in an hour what was he even going to ask you? How old were you when you lost your limbs and parents in a terrorist attack?? That was the most personal thing he knew, and even asking in a way where it was worded like ‘What was the name of the Omnic that saved you?’ it was still too close to bringing up the single most painful memory of your life.

If only he knew something simple like ‘the name of the street you grew up on’ or ‘favorite flavor of ice cream’... No. With you two questions to assess your mental acuity that you both knew the answer to were better left to operational codename Q&As.

He made a mental note to take the time to get to know you better, know more about you than just this, the next time you were stuck in a car for twelve hours. The sun was starting to rise, businesses were opening, and the day could get started with the hunt to find an omnic to repair your prosthetics- but he also wanted you to sleep as long as you were able. So, he was just going to take this two hours at a time.

#Soldier: 76 x Reader #Soldier:76/Reader #Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison #Jack Morrison x Reader #Jack Morrison/Reader #Reader Insert #Overwatch #Overwatch fanfic #overwatch fic

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 3 (Viserys x Reader fic)

Chapter 2

Original Link

Warnings: Nudity 

"Aaaaah" you sighed as you settled down into the steaming liquid, the heat seeping into your bones. For a time you just sat back, closing your eyes and letting yourself get lost. Coincidentally, it also heightened your hearing, your ears picking up the tiny scuff of a boot. Waiting for more steps to follow you didn't startle, or even flinch, just smiled as they never came.

You had noticed Viserys up on the wall, saw him nearly walking on your heels through the side door. Smirking wickedly you carried on as normal, slipping out of the water just enough to grab the rough sponge. Lifting one leg above the edge of the tub to scrub between your toes and the entire length down. Repeating the process again. You scrubbed between your legs, moving languidly up your torso and giving your breasts extra attention to put on a bit of a show.

When you had cleaned everywhere else you leaned forward, craning around, twisting and stretching to scrub your back. With a chuckle and a sigh you called out "I know you're there, you might as well come out." even though you weren't sure if he still was, you hadn't heard anymore noise over the sloshing water.

But then came the usually sure voice, strung through with hesitance "You knew I was here?" You heard him before you saw him, Viserys lingering out of sight until you answered back snidely "Well you're a King, not an assassin."

He stepped out from the doorway, his face downcast in shame- from peeping in the first place or being caught you didn't know. He raised his head just enough for your eyes to meet, one of his dark eyebrows raised in question as he asked "The whole time?"

Your face was drawn up in a sly smile, tilting your head and explaining "Since the wall."

He matched you with a sly smile of his own, his confidence surging as he strode into full view, standing in the middle of the room just shy of the tub. "You knew and didn't say until now?"  his voice peaking seductively.

You laughed nervously, you couldn't say why you had let him stay, why it didn't bug you. It wasn't hurting you at all, so you'd figured why confront it? Perhaps you wanted to tease him. Instead of answering and trying to sort the confusion into words, you changed the subject. "Well, it's a good thing. I sent away the servants, and I can't scrub my back. Would you-"

The friendly demeanor soured, Viserys brows furrowed his features turned harsh. "That is beneath me." he barked, haughtily.

You took it as a grain of sand, shrugging it off dismissively and stating "Or not." So once again you contorted, this time to run the sponge across your shoulder blades and down your spine. Viserys' violet eyes watched you, but now from his spot in the open, his rage subsiding with each movement you made.

By the time you lifted yourself from the tub he was mesmerized. Water dribbled off your skin to the smooth stone floor, and with an eyebrow raised you walked to stand in front of Viserys. With a motion you gestured behind him, his eyes following it to the towel laying across the table. Focusing back on you there was the same privileged defiance gleaming in his eyes, but apparently his mind didn't communicate it to his arm as it slowly reached behind his back, blindly grasping until it found the rough fabric.

His pale hand came up to offer it to you, and you took it gladly. Turning as you dried yourself you walked to the closet. This had been the room you had lived in, and there were plenty others in the manse so Illyrio had left it for you, a chest of drawers filled with clothes and the odd trinkets you collected from your youth remained scattered about. You wrung your hair in the towel and you saw one such laying on the squat dresser that sat next to the chest. A pewter cast eagle talon, but with some imagination it could be a dragon's claw.

You dropped the towel to the floor, sliding open a drawer before choosing a nice plain linen tunic. Once the fabric was pulled over your head you stepped into your smallclothes before searching for a pair of trousers. You slid them on and as you were securing a belt around your waist you heard the tone of disgust from behind you "You look like a boy."

You chuckle and grab the metal talon, tossing it's weight lightly in your hand. "I'm just meeting with Illyrio, it's not like I have to dress to impress." You flip your hair out of your face as you spin to face him, shrugging and grinning like a jackal.

"Well, there is someone there you should try to impress." Viserys remarked smugly, tipping his head.

"Oh?" The metal trinket lands in your palm as you toss it once more, this time you tuck it into one of your pockets before strolling around the droplets on the floor and the large brass tub. You even stepped past Viserys, pausing in the doorway to look over your shoulder at him. "Perhaps I should attend the meeting in the nude then. Would that impress this someone?"

Viserys chuckled under his breath, a wide smile gracing his face and softening his features. "It certainly wouldn't hurt" he comments playfully, stepping up beside you.

One step at a time you two walked abreast, you tilting your head to look up at his face, still glowing with that charming smile. "I wouldn't want to distract from the meeting." you say dismissively, slightly shaking your head at the idea.

The friendly back and forth continued down the hall where you found Illyrio lounging in the study, snacking on a tray of dates and a block of hard cheese. From the Magister's surprise you gathered Viserys hadn't been invited, and such was not the first time he included himself, so the Magister said nothing other than to wave him in.

Chapter 4

Index

#taming the dragon #viserys targaryen #viserys #viserys x reader #viserys targaryen x reader #viserys/reader #viserys targaryen/reader #reader insert #game of thrones #asoiaf

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 2 (Viserys X Reader fic)

Chapter 1

Original Link

Viserys POV

The negotiations were infuriating, but the glimmer of hope of reclaiming his lands, his throne- were becoming more real than ever. He sat on the terrace overlooking the sea, closing his eyes to imagine the salty sea spray on his face with a fleet of boats behind him loaded overbear with Dothraki screamers.

The prospect of marrying Dany to the Khal still tied his stomach in knots. ‘Dragons do not mix with the beasts of the field’ he had heard his father say when it came time for Rhaegar to wed Elia. However dragons were a rarity in this world anymore, even before the Usurper threw the world into tumult they had resigned to marrying for allegiances instead of the age old Targaryen tradition of wedding brother and sister.

If Dany must marry the Khal to buy me an army, so be it. Even if I had seven sisters I would marry them all off if it meant I could right the injustice to our house.

Even without a true house to call his own, seeing as it was beyond the water he now stared across with a fat bastard lounging in his ancestral chair, the burden of leading the Targaryen family was something that had hung heavy on his shoulders since he was only five years old. At the beginning, when they still holed away on Dragonstone, he had the lords and knights still loyal to his father. He'd still had his mother. But like everything else in his life that didn't last.

The call of a gull just overhead shook him from the dark recesses of his mind. He sighed grumpily, running the smooth flesh of his thumb over the rough stone parapet he was leaning against.

Picturesque flashes of his father's face, and his brother's haunted him. The feeling of tiny insignificance as he would stare up at the dragon skulls mounted on the wall. Well, only physically because inside he felt larger than all Westeros, repeating over and over to himself ‘you are the blood of the dragon.’

He smiled to himself as he remembered the time his father had been off, observing some tournament, and he'd slipped away from Sir Gaunt who had been guarding him and trailing the young Prince's every step.

Viserys had found his way to the eerily quiet throne room, his only company were the eyeless skulls staring down at him and the fearsome, twisted throne of blades. He knew all the stories by heart, even all these years later, marvelling at the thought of dragonfire bending the countless swords to Aegon's will. But he also knew of the stories few others did, the cuts and gashes that scarred his father.

As a small child he'd shown hesitance standing before the Iron Throne, timidly running his palm across the seat. He lived that in his dreams most every night, sometimes he would come away with a deep red slash bubbling enough blood to fill the Red Keep, sometimes his entire hand had been lopped off. But last night he had dreamed it again, and not even faltered as he strode up the plush crimson velvet carpet to lounge on the throne.

He was finally on the right path, years of torture and degradation were going to be washed away with a forty thousands arahks flashing in the sun.

A creak sounded through the courtyard at his back. Viserys spun and paced to the other side of the pathway atop the wall bordering Illyrio's estate. The woman he had seen a month past padded through the lavish garden, picking her way to the servants door. A smirk played across his face, he would be lying if he denied the impression she had left on him.

Her curt response, and prompt departure had left him speechless. It was a good thing she had left when she did, for she had woken the dragon and one of the serving women had paid for it. He had been enraged, how dare she deny him the information that was the hinge to regaining his life.

But in the following days he became jealous of Illyrio, would anyone say the same of him? Could he ever trust in someone's unfaltering loyalty? Betrayal and mistrust was a taste he knew well, for he supped on it often, but it was still bitter in his mouth.

The woman had come and gone several times over the past few weeks though the meetings had become more discreet and it seemed today was time for another. Feeling rather impish Viserys ducked out of sight and crept to the stairs. Trailing a maiden was not Kingly behavior, and normally if he had an interest in any one of the Magister's pets he would just order them to stay in his presence, but he knew even if she would humor Illyrio's request to comply- it wouldn't do any good.

And it was a rush, going against everything he had been taught as a young Prince, the way he had to carry himself, having to be proper at all times. His heart beat fast as he crept through the manse, sticking to the shadows, pressing his back to the wall and staying several yards behind her.

One of the servants walked from a side room, nearly tripping over Viserys. He seethed but bit back the words, glaring down at the scared mouse of a girl before his eyes darted up to see if his cover had been blown. It hadn't, the flowing green skirt over swaying hips continued down the hall before disappearing around a corner.

In the back of his mind he was concerned what would be said of him sneaking about, stalking one of Illyrio's confidants. Then his boldness swelled, his steady self assurance returning- who was he to care what others thought, especially the common rabble. "Out of my way" he cursed under his breath, his shoulder crashing into the servant as he brushed past.

The Magister's voice echoed off the hall "(Y/N). I am glad you are here."  Viserys halted on the other side of the corner, tipping around to see where the two had met in the hall.

"You reek of horses!" The Magister recoiled dramatically. He was one to speak, he covered the pallid smell of his flesh under heavy perfumes.

But any thoughts of the intolerable Magister were forgotten as she laughed, the sound dancing in his ears. She threw her head back merrily, a hand pressed to her stomach as she chuckled. "I know! I have a nose."

"Before we speak let me have a bath drawn for you. If you are finally free from spending time among those Dothraki, you certainly shouldn't smell like them." Illyrio waved her down the hall.

She walked side by side with him and commented "I think I'm going to miss it, truth be told. They are quite fun."

"I am surprised you could -" his voice fell out of earshot.

Chapter 2

Index

#taming the dragon #viserys #viserys targaryen #viserys targaryen x reader #viserys x reader #viserys/reader #female reader #reader insert #viserys targaryen/reader

[secretshamewriting]

Taming the Dragon-Chapter 1 (Viserys X Reader fic)

Hello everyone! I am reposting this from my old account, since I am going to have this be my exclusively writing/fic blog while the other continues to be a garbage fire. All the new chapters will be posted here! The old link here.

Warnings: Very Mild Swearing

The high walls of the estate loomed ahead while behind you the cries of the red priests rang out as they sang their night prayers, echoing into the darkness. You had entered the manse freely, the servants knew you well, offering smiles and kind words. You were always respectful and caring to them so they genuinely treated you the same.

A serving girl walked past you, arms stacked with empty dishes. You didn't need to ask where the Magister was, at any given hour he was never far from food but the signs of a feast brought you to the dining hall. The great windbag billowed on as he always did, it was a surprise how much talking he did that there was always something new to talk about. Through the sheer curtains you could see into the next room, able to see he was with guests.

However you disregarded common manners and only hung outside the doorway for a moment before entering the room. Not lacking common sense that normally would have stayed you but the Beggar King and the Hatchling had been living here for several months now and these meals were a nightly occurrence. If anything you assumed they would be happy to have a distraction from the incessant rambling.

"Magister Illyrio." you strode in and offered a straightforward introduction before turning to do a light dip and addressing the silver-gold haired siblings "Your grace, and princess." Dany, the Hatchling, eagerly returned your warm smile. Her brother watched you with his sharp hawk like eyes, as if he were sizing up prey.

"(Y/N)!" The Magister's deep voice echoed. He gestured towards the table, specifically the ornately carved high back chair to his left, insisting "Join us! You are just in time for the fish course." You smiled courteously and settled into the lumpy cushion, folding your legs underneath yourself.

You could feel both sets of amethyst eyes on you, the girl's stare was a curious one but the Beggar King's gaze was harsh and analyzing, you could feel the air of frustration that no explanation had been given as to why you were privileged enough to join them. You set about telling lighthearted stories, from the market to the court. Illyrio's booming laughter shaking out the crumbs from his golden forked beard, and the Hatchling giggled along. You were thankful for that, gods knew how little she had to be merry about. That was apparent from her brother, only scoffing and adding snide comments to your own.

After the second pass of sweets made it round the table, the Magister finishing an entire tray of fig pastries himself, it seemed the meal was done. "(Y/N)" he called offhandedly "Help me to my study, won't you?" You agreed by grappling his massive hand and pulling with all your might to wrest his fat folds free from the chair as he steadied himself with a push off the table.

You gave a respectful nod to the noble siblings, wishing them a good night without a hope of reply before you disappeared around the columns and deeper into the manse. Now was a time for a different genre of stories, those offering deep insight into one's actions, the political game of cyvasse. Illyrio had seen you employed at the mansion of the Khal, helping be an intermediary between the Pentoshii and the horselords.

You led him back to the study easily, you still had the estate mapped out in your mind from the years you had spent there. Your father had attempted to sell you into slavery to pay his debts, but you had escaped from the exchange. Living on the streets you had been scouted by the Magister's other agents to be a little bird, gathering tidbits of information. You had proven quite useful, and worked your way up the job list. Using your innocent appearances and sweet temperament got you where ever you needed, and your cunning had alerted Illyrio that your talents might be being wasted as merely a pair of ears.

He had seen you housed under this roof, and given access to his impeccable library. You had taken to languages like a fly to shit, mastering several of the dialects of the Free Cities, the common tongue of Westeros, and enough of the Dothraki language to pass for orders, though conversations eluded you. You even knew enough Ghiscari to tell the foul mouthed sailors what they should use their mouths for instead when they called down at you from the docked ships.

From there you had become a Governess, teaching languages to the children of the noble houses. That had been the past few years of your life. In fact the current Prince of Pentos had been one of your students, which would only make it that much harder if the next crop failed or whatever weak excuse the Magisters concocted to choose a new Prince.

But since he had shown such kindness, offering you a life better than you could have hoped, when Illyrio had called upon you, you had answered readily. You didn't share the same qualms as most of the distinguished linguists, and the horselords barbaric ways didn't phase you, so you had been perfect for the job.

You knew the pair in the next room was the reason for your stay among the Dothraki, and though you had not been explicitly told the reason you had gathered the Magister's grand plans for a deal between the powerful Khal and the Beggar King. So you and Illyrio talked for hours about all you had seen, everything you'd heard, what you had learned of the Khal. He gave you a specific list of what he would need to know before he treated with the Khal, and you were glad to oblige.

"Sweet child, should you like to stay here? It is so dark and I would die of sorrow should anything happen to you walking home at this hour." The fat man gushed as you made to leave.

You snickered and shook your head, your mind keenly aware of the dagger strapped on your thigh. You had used it before and you knew you would have to again. He took your rejection in stride, offering instead "You know there is always a place for you here, (Y/N)"

"You have always been nothing but kind to me Illyrio, and I truly appreciate that." your face brightened in a kind smile, letting it linger as you left the heavily perfumed presence of the Magister. Your footsteps echoed through the empty halls, most of the servants enjoying what free time was allowed them at night, but it did not bother you as you showed yourself out.

As you strode into the entry hall you saw the figure sitting with their back facing you. The gentle swooshes of a stray hand playing in the pool, sending flashes of light dancing across the vaulted ceiling. The unmistakable silver-gold hair shining in the light of the oil lamps. You quieted your steps, nearly halting before attempting to  tiptoe past on the balls of your feet.

"Wait" his voice freezing your muscles when it touched your ears. Languidly he took his time sliding off the raised edge of the pool, standing to his full height before he turned to face you.

You scoffed timidly, shrugging and telling him "I am sorry if I disturbed you, Your Grace." You knew he had eaten that up, nothing infuriated him more than any perceived slight. The servants had told you all about the fact flattery would get you everywhere with Viserys.

"I am glad you did." he soothed, but you could hear the edge in his voice like a hidden knife. With steady steps he paced over to meet you, though his eyes darted nervously down the hall. "Tell me" his confident voice lowered to a whisper "everything you spoke of with Illyrio."

You looked down to your feet, hoping to hide the smirk creasing your face. You’d heard he acted entitled, a king without a crown. For a moment you considered how you would carefully word your refusal for the best possible way to weasel out of the situation. But something compelled you to speak as if he were anyone else, why give him special treatment, dance around him like everyone else did. "No" you stated firmly, bringing your eyes up to meet his in time to see them narrow.

You could see the internal struggle happening behind the purple glass of his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but instead you offered your explanation willingly "I am loyal to Magister Illyrio. He has been nothing but kind to me. Besides, he would surely like to speak to you about it himself."  with that you stalked off to the door. Glancing over your shoulder as you pushed open the heavy solid oak door where you saw that he stood still, staring at the space you'd occupied, head cocked to the side. Not wanting any further confrontation, signing yourself to whatever backlash may come later, you hefted it open just enough to sneak out.

Chapter 2

Index

#taming the dragon #viserys targaryen #viserys #viserys x reader #viserys targaryen x reader #viserys x female!reader #female reader

[secretshamewriting]

[Dr. Stephen Strange x Reader]  Once Upon a Dream

On AO3

Someone's broken into the Sanctum Sanctorum and is trying to enchant Stephen... No, wait, it's just his disciple desperate for attention.

Warnings: None

Based off of the song  from Sleeping Beauty. 

The lilting had been muffled and indistinguishable when the sorcerers had first come through the portal into the Sanctuary, a bastion of protection for the dimension, and in the heart of Greenwich. A look to his right at Wong who replied with a shrug, and Doctor Strange put a jump in his step as his ears strained to make any words of the chant..

“ and I know it’s true, but visions are seldom what they seem.. ”

Up the stairs, approaching the main entryway of the old mansion and the great room that received it Stephen looked on, bewildered, though now feeling as if he should have expected it. Your voice rang in the ceiling as your footfalls rang on the floor singularly, tracing circles over the Seal of the Vishanti as the other pair of boots that joined you made no noise. Hovering above Valtorr’s empty boots and in your arms was the Cloak of Levitation and though it had no body to shape around it swayed to the tune as well as any dance partner.

On your next turn round you noticed the good Doctor and Wong staring but only dipping your head back as you came around again and not missing a note.

“Once Upon a Dream” Stephen notes, looking at Wong and giving him the ‘obviously’ hand shrug. “Sleeping Beauty. It’s a classic- 1959.”

Wong’s only response was a vacuous empty stare before looking back at you while you kicked up your heels and took off in a low glide thanks to the Cloak pressing in on your sides. To prove him wrong you risked the register break to your lower into your modal voice and sing closer to the 2014 reimagining. Your toes touched the floor again as your tone danced up and down in the bridge of the song but you quickly lost the music to a howl as you were unexpectedly dipped down. If the Cloak had a face you would slap it for scaring you.

Wong and Strange snickered at you. “What are you doing?” With all his degrees you would think it would have been more obvious to him.

“I don't know,” you answered truthfully bemused, clearing your throat and gripping onto the flippant lapels before pushing into a more complex step pattern “Maybe I’ve gone mad! ” You chuckle at yourself before picking up the melody again.

Wong shook his head, commenting reassuringly “You were already there.” bearing wide around the edge of the room and pivoting at the banister to start on the upper staircase.

Stephen went to follow him but was cut off by a furrow of red rudely stepping in front of him. Free hands in the air, too preoccupied to move them to your sides you held onto a phantom as you stared to your feet to watch the boots beat your every move. To your credit, they were magically imbued. Valtorr must have danced women off their feet.

Pushed in unwillingly, Stephen cut in in a shower of orange sparks as the boots vaulted out of the way. It was not a smooth transition and you immediately had your foot ground under his. “Sorry,” he winced “It’s been quite a while since I attended a gala.”

Not accepting the self doubt that washed over him you put on your best doe eyes and started anew. “You know, I’m really not supposed to speak-” you couldn't keep a straight face “to Strangers.” Not able to hold it back nor having any desire to you chortled along.

Stephen rolled his eyes so hard it probably flipped some alternate reality on it’s head. “Very funny,” but a smirk undermined the snide remark.

You smiled into the first few notes of the song as you hopped back in, holding your right hand up for the ballroom hold and draping your left lightly onto his right shoulder.

“I guess I’m supposed to say” tweaking an eyebrow in mock he played your game, taking your hand lightly and placing the other on your shoulder blade and stepping into a basic waltz. “‘But don't you remember, we’ve met before.’ ‘You said so yourself’.”

Previously you had been doing the melody but returning a volley of eyebrow raising two fold and took the perfect timing to add the words “ Once upon a dream. ”

From the landing above you heard Wong’s patronizing voice, calling behind him as he continued on into the Sanctum. “You two are so cute together.”

“Hey,” Stephen faltered defensively turning to cast an eye in his direction. “Hey!” This time it was barked obstinately as one of the corners of the high neck on the Cloak of Levitation pushed his face back where his eyes met yours. They didn't stay long, darting to the left as you closed more firmly on his trembling hand. You urged him into some more of the complex waltz steps.

You sang “ I know you, I know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream. ” in the midst of performing a seamless underarm turn leading into the face to face, the distance made up for by the fact both of his palms were pressed into yours. They jittered in your grip even though you could tell he was making as much of a conscious effort as he could to steady them. The hold on your right hand that continued to lead you through steps you left alone, but with your left hand you twisted your wrist away from the mirrored position so you could slip your fingers between his. In soothing motion you traced your thumb up and down his metacarpal and hoped he understood that you didn't want him to hide it. You adored it, actually, it was part of what made him: him.

You closed the step, regaining the closeness as Stephen spoke. “Now, you’ve seen me in your visions before; you're not trying to warn me are you?”

“I’ve been dropping hints..” you muse playfully but feel a twinge of anger at yourself. In truth you badgered him about it and never had a care to hide your feelings. You had not been subtle and dreaded it would make him hate you; yet it afforded you moments like this and as many times as he had never taken the bait he continued to indulge you so, it was all worth it.

Without you providing the musical ambiance Stephen began to hum in time while leading you into a foxtrot step. It only took a moment for you to recognize it, not even able to look at his face as you gazed somewhere not even on this plain focusing mostly on the steps and the sounds, mumbling through a grin “The Way You Look Tonight.”

In a promenade the two of you used the open floor to its advantage, you joining him humming along. However in the middle of a corner step there was a woosh and suddenly you were left holding an empty cape. He had danced you to the stairs then split, already a third of the way up them and explaining “Unfortunately, I have work to do.”

Clutching the fabric to you, the willful object allowing you to cart it along as you sped after him. “I’m sorry. You should have said- I didn't -”

“You wouldn't have. Besides, it’s fine, it's nothing imminent.” he assured, twisting back to look at you as the Cloak drifted over to find its place again around his shoulders.

From the direction he was headed you could only guess what might be happening, and no matter a time frame, it couldn't be good. “The orb?” you fretted.

“Uh-huh” Stephen countered lightly as if it could have been anything else.

Entering the room, a special parlor on the third floor meant for no other purpose than to house the Orb of Agamotto, you found Wong staring grimly into it’s depths.

“Iiiiiit’s imminent isn't it?” your attitude falling through the floor.

“Afraid so.” Wong studied the conjured images.

Stephen took a sideways glance at it but was already using the sling ring to open a portal.

“Can I help? My training-” you tried to offer.

“No” the answer was short and definite.

Wong stepped beside him and spoke “Well, I-”

“ You will stay here and guard the Sanctum.” And as soon as the words were out the portal slammed closed.

Throwing your hands in the air you paced a circle of frustration. “Why does he always do this?!” You cursed.

“You get used to it.” Wong retorted dryly settling back in to watch the events unfold on the interdimensional live stream.

#fluff #dr. stephen strange #stephen strange #dr. strange #marvel #mcu #dr strange x reader #stephen strange x reader

[secretshamewriting]

Introductions are in order

Hi everyone!

I made this blog to be a much easier and less of a clusterfuck place to collect my writing. Most of it was posted on my original blog trollmblr5000, but any new works as of today will be posted on here. Here is also a link to my ao3: secretshamewriting.  First things first I am getting everything in order and there will be lists and pages for each fandom and links, buuuuut it’s a work in progress.  

#idek what else to say lol #more just posting to be able to see things on my theme and start filling it in #shout out to all zero of my followers rn #not writing