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#Peggy Carter fanfic
peachyteabuck · 11 months
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cross the line (peggy carter x reader)
summary: after you’re officially coronated, your already-atypical relationship with your personal knight becomes something even more scandalous
commissioned by someone who wishes to remain anonymous 
pairing: peggy carter x reader
words: 7649
content warnings: the world’s most historically inaccurate royal au!, knight/personal guard!peggy, queen!reader, murder of a minor character, attempted murder of a main character, violence done onto the main character, virginity taking, strap on use, dubious consent, praise, i made steven grant rogers a misogynist for shits + gigs, protective!peggy, dom!peggy, sub!reader, blowjobs on strapons, manipulation
divider by @firefly-graphics​
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This is your dream. This has been your dream since you knew what dreams were. Every moment of your life since the minute you unleashed your first scream was dedicated to primping and priming you until you were molded into the perfect queen.
This is your dream. As a baby, you were sequestered from everyone but the doctor, your parents, your nanny, and the wet nurse to ensure your health. You met the first person outside of that tight circle was introduced to you when you could walk. Even then, they were quarantined before and after.
As a child, you spent hours being quizzed on complex philosophy and mathematics by candlelight until your nanny begged for the tutor to stop. Being up until well before sunrise wasn’t enough: any moment you could be awake should be dedicated to meeting the same standards would-by kings were held to.
As a teenager, the focus turned to your appearance. Reading and writing were joined by a hair and make-up session. You recited factoids and roleplayed conversations with other rulers and aristocrats and constituents while you were shoved into corsets and fitted for dresses.
Your entire life has led up to this day, to this moment.
So why are you here, picking at your cuticles, as you hear your family and allies of the crown celebrating joyously? A new queen was not a frequent occurrence, especially one who reigned without a sudden, unexpected death or drought. None of that had occurred—your mother, aging and desperate for a life of her own, had informed you of her plan to abdicate the throne on the eve of your 16th birthday. It would give you two years until they’d announce, and a few more for everyone in every kingdom to adjust to the news.
You can hear your personal guard come in, the formal armor clinking as she steps. She prefers to go without (something about stealth being the best protection), but given the occasion, tradition requires her to be in full regalia.
“Are you all right, your majesty?”
You bite at your nail, pulling at the dead skin as you attempt to ground yourself. Staring off into the distance, you say nothing.
“That’s what I thought.”
Peggy had been your main guard since you were preteens. You, trying to learn politics and languages and negotiation tactics. Her, learning the ins and outs of palace protection from her mother. She was much scrawnier back then, limbs resembling the branches of a freshly planted oak tree. Peggy had bloomed since then, all muscle and confidence. She had also, over the years, become your closest confidant.
“Princess,” she says, her tone knowing. You can’t see her smirk, but it rests atop her words like moss in a pond. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”
A crash, quickly followed by bellows from amused, drunken palace goers, stops you from responding immediately.
“Don’t call me that,” you finally say with a sigh. Might as well start getting used to correcting people now, you think. Though, your tone does not have the kind of royal tone you’d often heard from your mother. “I am now your queen and you will address me as such.”
She smiles softly, nodding just a little. “My apologies, your majesty, you were a princess for a very long time, and so it will take effort to get used to.”
You don’t disagree—it’s still hard to remind yourself to respond to the title when it’s called. You start to speak, wringing your hands every so slightly. “Margaret-“
“Please, your majesty,” she interrupts you, raising one hand to her chest. “You mustn’t. Now that you are queen, I think it’s best to refer to me as Peggy. It’s what my mother called me.”
As you roll the name over your tongue, the sounds feel like a tough cut of meat between your teeth. Still, it seems important to her, and given all she’s done for you over the years, you feel as though you owe her. It’s then, as you run through what it would be like to call for her in front of the rest of the court, that you let yourself smile just a little.
“It’s very improper,” you say quietly, as though someone could hear you admit to entertaining such a thought.
Peggy just grins—big and toothy. You ignore the way your heart swells at the sight. “That it is.”
“And what would the queen mother think?”
“What the old crone doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
It’s hard to suppress a laugh in your state, the giggles overwhelming your defenses within seconds. It sometimes feels as though your mother is a lighthouse at the center of the sea, locating ships with horrifying precision. Queen or not, the thought of her knowing you’re deviating from her desires spikes fear in your gut. A terrifying woman, it’s easy to treat her the same way one treats a prison guard.
But then you think of your mother—not the queen, but the little bit of her that exists outside of the demands of royal life. She’d been queen for years when she was your age, your grandmother succumbing during the birth of her youngest brother. Within hours after he entered the world, your uncle became an orphan and your mother became a queen. Their roles overtook them, both of them mourning as they grew into their roles. It was your mother’s job to rule. It was his job to remain as far from the public eye as possible.
“Are you okay, your majesty?”
Peggy places her hand on your shoulder. You can feel her thumb rubbing into the sore muscles there, and you wish she could apply that pressure to every inch of your skin. She allows you to sit with your non-reply, the nice quiet a welcome change from the cacophony of noise. She looks you up and down a few times, noticing the way you wring your hands and how you bite at your bottom lip.
You don’t know it, but she watches you in the same way she did when you were teenagers. She couldn’t stop, watching as you both grew to fit the titles you were expected to live up to as adults.
But she can’t do anything about it—not now. Not until the time is right.
“May I?”
You nod.
She takes the crown from your head, holding it gingerly as she inspects it. You were able to design your own crown given the circumstances. It all had to be kept under a veil of secrecy, of course—the jewelers and blacksmiths were sequestered until everything had finished, and even then were sworn to secrecy for fear of beheading.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” You sound more mournful than you intended. It really is beautiful, is the worst part. A half-circle peaking in the middle, pearls topping each peak. At the center, swinging as your knight holds it in her calloused hands, rests a dangling cameo made of ivory and obsidian.
“An orchid?” Peggy asks, that same smirk as before teasing at her lips.
You nod. “It represents love and thoughtfulness. My mother’s favorite.”
Peggy hmms, turning it in her hands again. The gold shimmers in the low candlelight, catching as the fat flames flicker. “It looks like a cunt.”
You just shrug, unable to comment on the likeness. Many of the knights were crude, almost alarmingly so, but the only experience you had with your center had been your monthly bleeding and the occasional anatomy lesson from an exasperated nanny.
“Yours looks prettier, though.”
You blink once, twice; bewildered by her comment. Any witty retort you might have made drowns in the confusion, your brow furrowing and heart racing.
“Wh…what did you just say?”
“I said,” she moves to where you are, her nose brushing against yours from how close you are. “Your pussy is much prettier than any gem you could put in front of me.”
You’re not sure what to say—mouth agape as you attempt to process what she’s said. Though neither of you had addressed whatever it was that crackled between you, neither of you had done much to dampen it, either.
“What would your royal friends think, hm?” Peggy moans, a slight laugh coating her teasing. “I wonder how the rest of the court would react to you defiling the good name of your foremothers.”
She knows what she’s doing—poking and prodding at the sense of duty you’ve shared since you were old enough to understand the importance of longevity to the royal lineage. You’ve spent your entire life dedicated to the well-being of the crown, allowing your family and their most trusted allies to contort you into the perfect royal to lead your kingdom. It’s your purpose, it’s your only skill, it’s your only option.
If your mother had remained queen, she would have picked out some nice man for you to marry. A younger brother perhaps, whose power wouldn’t rival your own but still allowed your kingdom to gain some sort of leverage or asset. Normally these are done in childhood, sometimes they’re signed as soon as the sex is confirmed in the birthing room. You had escaped such a fate, in contrast to your sisters. Escaped only to find yourself in another possible trap.
“Retiring for the night?” Your head shoots up to see your mother’s lady-in-waiting, a much older woman who’d been in the castle since your mother’s teenage years, standing in the doorway. It’s then that you realize that you are tired, and move to rub at the dark circles under your eyes, not unlike the children of various royals whose bedtimes were hours ago. The rush of emotions, the pounding heartbeat, the awareness of your entire body…it feels as though you had been running through a field with reckless abandon and very suddenly met the kingdom’s sturdiest oak tree.
“Yes, I believe so.”
Her face softens, memories of your mother’s coronation rising. The woman has always said you look just like your mother did at your age, something you’ve never been able to fully process. “I understand. The queen requests-“she pauses for just a second before correcting herself. “The queen mother requests to see you before you disappear.”
You smile, nodding in affirmation. Before you can dust off your dress and stand, Peggy offers you her hand for stability. Your refusal dies into a hesitation when you realize a witness remains.
As you stand, she pulls you to her quick enough to make it look as if you had fallen. “I’ll meet you in your room, your majesty,” she whispers lowly into your ear. Before you can react, she straightens you into a standing position. Louder, she speaks again. “Now come along so we can find your darling mother.”
Lucky for you, no one has become caught in one of her famous conversations that can last for an hour or more.
“He and his guard will be staying for the next week or so,” she grins. It’s that real kind of smile, one that hasn’t graced your mother’s face in a long, long time. It stings, just a little.
You attempt to mirror her face, but you can feel how vacant your eyes look. “That’s wonderful, Mother. I’m glad such a close ally of the family will be our first guests after our coronation.”
The older woman pointedly ignores the flatness of your tone. “He’s wished to speak with you before he leaves.”
Great, you think. Lord Rogers is…an interesting man, certainly. Famously easy to anger and hard-headed, he only seems to care about women and ale. More accurately, he cares about women who are willing to put up with him while he drinks ale. Neither are hobbies of yours and so he has decided you are not worth respecting.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
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Your hands shake ever slightly as you find your way back to your quarters, the ringing in your ears drowning out the harshness of your steps. You nod to the two guards—Natasha and Valkyrie—who open the hefty door for you. There, sitting in your vanity chair, lies your loyal knight.
You’re unsure of what you should say, and so you say nothing.
“I’ve wanted you for as long as I’ve known what it is to want,” Peggy says, still seated.
“My reputation would never recover if anyone found out,” is all you can reply. Maybe the thought of your legacy crumbling would knock some sense into her.
The woman across from you just smiles. “That was when you were simply a princess. But you are queen now, so we’re free to do as we wish.”
You step back, watching with wide eyes as she moves to undo her ceremonial armor. Each time the metal pieces hit each other, you flinch at the small clang. The sound of metal reminds you far too much of violence, and you’ve never been one for that.
“Queens still have reputations, Peggy,” your protest is weak…but is a protest, nonetheless. Affairs like this could ruin a royal, send them tumbling into a well of scandal that would threaten the power your family had held for generations. If anyone learned of what was happening, you could be dethroned, excommunicated, possibly even executed. “Big, consequential ones.”
You can feel your mouth dry when she removes her undershirt, revealing her bare chest. Bruises, scars, and scrapes litter the skin, but it only adds to her natural allure.
When all you do is stare, she smiles ever-so-slightly. “Has no one educated you on matters of the flesh, your majesty?”
Part of you wants to deny you understand what she asks—but the rest of you is just confused. Most of the eligible bachelors in your court steered clear of your bath, too terrified of your mother to make any sort of romantic gesture. The allure of bedding a royal was far outweighed by your mother’s ruthless reputation. When a man was found kissing up the neck of your younger sister, one of his hands at the small of her back, he was sent to work at a proxy farm hundreds of miles away, rumored to be herding sheep with just one hand.
No one ever seemed worth the risk of losing them.
She speaks as she removes the cloth pants, your eyes drawn to the slight bulge at the apex of her thighs that the harder armor covered. “It’s an honor to be your first, your majesty.”
As her pants hit the floor, you can feel the air being knocked from your lungs. There, between her legs, rests a sort of…toy. Long, thick, tapering a little before flaring out again.  It looks like what the other ladies of the court had described after their nights of passion with visitors from other kingdoms.
“You’ll take me in your mouth soon, my queen,” she reaches into the bag at her side, producing a small, unlabeled jar that reminds you of the potions witches sometimes sell at the markets held near the castle. She pops the cork, spreading the thick, clear substance over the bulbous head between her legs. You’re not sure what she means, but the heat in your belly spreads along your spine, nonetheless. When her length is fully covered in it, she takes your hand, the scented oils from the morning having soaked beneath the surface, leaving only supple, perfumed skin in its wake.
“Here,” she practically whispers, her voice quiet but filled with what sounds like excitement. “Wrap your hands like this…”
Your knight guides you, her hand over yours as you wrap your fingers around it. It’s a strange feeling, but certainly not unwelcome. You follow her motions, moving up and down and twisting your wrist right before you reach the top. Peggy watches enraptured, her eyes locked on where your hands meet. It’s easy for you to presume she can’t feel what you’re doing, certainly not even witches could combine this material with the flesh of a human. But, with the way your knight’s lips part, the way her breathy moans fill the room…you’re not sure.
Her other hand, once curled into a fist at her side, now cups the back of your head firmly. “Lick the tip, your majesty,” she instructs. At any other time, you’d hesitate, but the lightheadedness that’s come over you silences your protests. Ever so lightly, you lick over where your hand had avoided. Your open mouth gives Peggy the opportunity to buck her hips, pushing the object past your lips. She takes care not to push it too far, merely pressing it onto your tongue so you would become used to the weight.
She’s been waiting for this day since she first saw you, since her mother told her of the duties that were passed down their family line for generations; since she had seen you studying French in the garden in your pink spring dress. She’d loved you for years—decades, even. Though she’d never wish it, if the Goddess took her tomorrow, she’d die a woman fulfilled.  
Peggy grabs at your hair, pulling you until you stand. She takes the position you just had, falling to her knees before burrowing herself under the hem of your skirt. Before you can ask what she’s doing, she unbuckles your shoes and pulls down your chemise. Too stunned to do anything else, you step out of them on instinct.
“Good girl,” Peggy purrs, leaving kisses along your thighs before standing back up. “My perfect girl.”
You lock eyes for a moment, expecting the other to say something, anything. When nothing comes, Peggy locks her lips with yours, leading you backwards until you’re pushed onto the bed. She’s practiced this many times, an old pillow covered in one of your nightgowns folded in half so she could smell your signature perfume as words of praise and promise tumbled from behind her lips. Just as she imagined, she parts your legs to find the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
I was right, she thinks. Much prettier than any crown.
“Oh Godess,” Peggy groans as she finally pushes inside of you. “You cannot imagine how long I’ve waited to do this-“
You moan as she enters you slowly, purposefully. Blood drains from your fingers as you grip the sheets with all you have, Peggy holding your legs open as you adjust to the feeling of her inside of you. She gives you a moment, tracing the calloused pads of her around your nipples, down your quivering stomach, and back up again.
“I-“ you’re not sure what you’re supposed to say, or if you’re supposed to say anything at all. “I-“
“Shhh, your majesty, Shh,” she reaches around to cup one hand over your mouth, the rough palm pressed against your lips. “Not all the servants are asleep. I don’t want anyone else to hear you sing for me. Not just yet.”
Your eyes widen as you realize what she’s saying. Each frenzied thought is broken as she pulls back before entering once more. Every time she retreats and leaves you empty and wanting, her pace quickening steadily.
“Wh-what do you-“
Peggy just smiles, watching as your eyes roll to the back of your head. It’s as though she’s watching your thoughts leak from your ears, your head falling onto the covers as pleasure overtakes you. She thought about flipping you over, about grabbing you by your hair and fucking you until you couldn’t walk. But she knew she had to start you off slowly, carefully as to not scare you off. Soon enough, though, she’d be able to fuck you in all the ways she’d fantasized; with her fingers inside you right next to her cock, with her hand around your neck, with her telling you the ways she’d fill you and how beautiful you’d look round with her kin. You were both young, and with your newfound power, had plenty of time to learn what you both liked best.
“Don’t worry, my beautiful queen,” she murmured into your neck. She had also imagined fucking you front of all the other knights in her tight circle of guards, showing the rest of them what they could have if they continued to pledge their loyalty. They’re all just as protective of you as she is already, but with queenhood comes increased threats that require increased vigilance. “I’ll explain in due time.”
It's then that she reaches down, moving to rub small, staccato circles at the most sensitive part of you. It’s a part you’ve explored before, under the thick covers and once everyone had presumed you asleep. That, though, was nothing like this—none of the fireworks, none of the way she grips your thighs to pull you back after each thrust.
This is what you imagine being struck by lightning feels like, the way your skin crackles every time she touches you. The difference, though, is that you’ve never heard of survivors wanting more. You’d never imagined anything feeling as good as this, as though those late-night explorations and giggles shared between princesses could feel so magnificent. Had everyone else felt like this, when they had indulged in matters of the flesh? Why had everyone kept such a thing from you?
“I’m, I’m-“ You’re not sure what’s happening, coil inside of you tightening with every passing second. Every muscle in your body tenses as you silently plea for Peggy for…well, truthfully, you don’t know what you’re pegging for. All you know is that you want it.
“Oh, your majesty,” Peggy smirks as she continues to pound into you, continuing to rub at the apex of your pussy. “Do it, baby, let go for me. Allow me the gratification of seeing you let go.”
You’re not sure what’s supposed to happen until it does, and a white-hot pleasure explodes inside of you. It reminds you of rolling down a hill, or being on horseback while it gallops. This is different, though, a nearly indescribable feeling lighting your skin ablaze. The feeling inches away little by little, your legs beginning to twitch. Peggy slows before pulling away completely, collapsing next to you as the toy prods at your leg.
“I’ll always watch over my queen,” she says as you pant, looking up at the ceiling of your room you had looked as a thousand times before. The mural your mother had painted for you hadn’t changed at all, but you…you were transformed. “No matter what.”
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A week or so passes without incident. A week of your entire body on edge, of watching your personal knight as she stood in corners and examines perimeters. It’s a small part of you, but nevertheless, a quiet voice in the back of your brain shamed you in the way you’d imagine your mother would if she found out.
How did it end up like this? You, the most powerful person in your kingdom, bending at the will of your closest guard as though she had the magic to move mountains. A shudder ripples its way through your muscles as you imagine a world where she was blessed with the connection to the Mother Goddess.  She was the only one who could grant the special few the ability to harness the magic found in the soil of your land, and it was a gift to you that she hadn’t given Peggy that power.
“Your majesty,” Peggy says from across the room, her affect flat in the proper way staff are meant to address members of your family. “Lord Steven Rogers is here to see you.”
She steps into the room and to the side, making room for the man and his personal guard. James, if your memory is correct, watches over the interaction with the same stoic silence as Peggy. He’s large, much different than the leaner bodies of the women who make up the castle’s defenses. James fills the doorway, nearly having to duck just a tad. What really scares you is the way he stares, his jaw set and his eyes bearing into you. You make every effort to avoid his gaze as Steve sits down.
“I have something to share with you,” he says with a boyish smile. He slides a small, wooden box across the desk that you make no move to open. “But I’d like for us to be alone. No guards.”
As if he can sense your trepidation, he adds, “Just to put us on even footing.”
“If my security cannot be in the room while this information is shared,” you tremble, ever so slightly, as you push the box back towards him. You hope he doesn’t notice, but something in his keen eyes says there’s very little he doesn’t see. “Then I don’t want to hear it at all. And I certainly wouldn’t want your security here as well.”
“Oh, princess,” his words are tinged with a low, condescending chuckle. It reminds you of your father when he knows he’s bested you at chess—the same stupid, smug look painted across his face; the same infuriating smile playing at the very corners of his lips. As a child, you thought he was at least trying to hide the fact he had such a large competitive advantage, saving your young ego from being crushed too early.
As you stand here, though, a single eyebrow raised and the inside of your cheek between your teeth to keep you from lashing out…you understand it is merely a poor attempt to hide the glee of besting a person one views as deeply and utterly inferior.
You grit your teeth, clenching your fists as your side as you resist the urge to slap him with the back of your hand. As a royal, your mother had never expressed herself in such a rash manner. You hadn’t even held the crown for a week and were on the brink of putting the entire royal reputation in jeopardy.
What a failure.
“I am queen now and you know it,” you eventually bite out, face red hot with the knowledge you’d taken much too long to respond.
Lord Rogers smiles in the same way you imagine snakes or wolves do when they’ve spotted injured prey. “Let’s have this conversation again when you’ve calmed down. Tomorrow, perhaps?”
You paint a tense smile over your face, attempting to hide your distaste. “Tomorrow it is. I look forward to seeing you then.”
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Peggy watches as your lady-in-waiting undoes your corset, her nimble fingers freeing you from its confines. Normally you liked your corsets—they improve your posture so much even your mother doesn’t comment on it—but that and the coronation dress weighed on you in an unfortunately literal way.
“My queen,” she nearly whispers. You expect her tone to be light and airy, and are startled by the more somber tone. “I need to speak with you.”
You blink once, twice. Why not here? Your face says, gesturing towards the lady-in-waiting as subtly as you can. Peggy’s stoicism remains unchanged.
“Give us a moment, Katherine, please,” you tell her, keeping your eye contact.
The dark-haired girl nods once, bidding you goodnight and curtsying before dashing away. She’s odd, that one, but so charming you choose not to comment when she’s around.
When the door shuts behind her, you turn to your knight, nodding just a little to prompt her.
Instead of speaking, though, she remains quiet, an obvious discontent washing over her face. A nagging feeling at the back of your heart wants to go to her, comfort her, bring out all the bad feelings so you can tame them. But you’re a queen, and she’s not a child, so you stay where you are—silent, stoic, painfully waiting for her to open her mouth and tell you what’s wrong.
When she does, though, you wish she hadn’t.
“I don’t like Lord Rogers very much,” is all Peggy says. She looks you dead in the eyes, jaw set. You wait for her to continue—to rant and scream and scowl.
You allow yourself a moment to sigh, the exhale ending in a dry laugh. Peggy narrows her eyes as you do so, tilting her head ever so slightly. “I’m not joking.”
It certainly sounds like it, though. She knows just as well as you how court politics works, how every single person in this castle has every single one of their decisions shrouded in a cloak of constrictive diplomacy. In a country situated at the center of the continent, a smile and a few lines of small talk are sometimes all there is between economic prosperity and absolute devastation.  
Speaking ill of Lord Rogers would effectively be the same as threatening to banish Lord Rogers from your castle. And banishing Lord Rogers would be the same as slitting the throat of his wife in their marriage bed. War? Guaranteed. Your chances of winning? Slim.
“Well, you certainly can’t be serious.” You’re outwardly scoffing now, rolling your eyes, and turning away from her without so much as a half-hearted excuse. There’s nothing in you that wants to fight; who wants to risk it all, fight the status quo, and make a new world from the ashes of the old one. You have never been very rebellious, and that instinct for conflict avoidance will serve you well if you want yourself, and your kingdom, to survive.
You expect your beloved knight to deflect. You expect her to do as you would’ve done: assume someone with loose lips was listening and you’d need to immediately play it off as some kind of nightmare and distance yourself from any ounce of culpability.
She doesn’t, though. She doesn’t move an inch.
“I’m serious, your majesty.” Peggy continues to meet your tense gaze, her own eyes free from any regret, or fear, or anything. Strong as a stone, and just as agreeable. Her face remains stoic, her sharp jaw set. “I would never lie to you.”
Red bleeds into the edges of your vision, the vision of your delicate legacy crashing to the floor like an antique teapot, crashing into a million, unfixable pieces and cutting into the bottoms of your soft feet. “Absolutely not,” you growl, your fists clenching in the light fabric of your underdress. “You know why that’s impossible, so certainly you wouldn’t be foolish enough to entertain the idea of saying it out loud.”
She still doesn’t budge. “I can’t lie to you, your majesty.” She repeats. “I have a duty to protect you-“
Now you bark out a laugh, the sharp descending into something darker quickly as you continue. “Protect!?” You reach across your abdomen to hold your sore stomach, glad you were able to get out of your corset before she opened her mouth. It feels like ages later when you’re able to catch your breath, the words still breathy as tears fall down your cheeks. “If anyone heard you, they’d have my head under a blade fast than you can cut the limbs off of any one person. You believing this is some roundabout way to fulfill the oath you took when you were given your sword is such horseshit you should be back shoveling it in stalls.”
You’re ready to continue—to bare your teeth and tear at her skin until she heeds your warning. Fangs—you wish you had fangs—so she’d know how ready you are to tear flesh from bone just to keep her from continuing. So that she’d know you’re also dangerous, and willing to fight if it meant you remained in power.
“Get out of here,” you snarl. “Tell Katherine to come back in. I don’t want to see you until I need escorting to the chancery tomorrow. Do you understand?”
Peggy’s face doesn’t change as she responds before turning and leaving. “Yes, your majesty. I will see you in the morning.”
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Neither of you speak, you following just behind her in silence. The blanket of quiet remains as you enter, a servant having already lit the candles that illuminate the room. As you requested, Peggy remains just outside the thick door, only entering when Lord Rogers does.
He seems pleased you’d followed his directions, and it makes your skin crawl. If you had your way, you’d never deal with him at all—outsourcing all communication through a third party. Unfortunately, the Rogers name is powerful in this region, and a queen is nothing without her allies.
“So,” he sits across from you, separated only by your desk. You move to stand near him, eyeing the same box he had yesterday. “I’ve come to talk about the land deeds your mother signed over to me at the very end of her reign.”
Your brow furrows as you reach forward to grab at what he brought with him. Inside are…bones? They’re small but thick, with etchings in an alphabet you do not understand. “What are these?”
He scoffs, as though you should understand what riddle he’s piecing together. You resist the urge to remind him you can speak five languages, and read even more. If there was a language you didn’t recognize, you’d be going to the royal translators…not a man who’s been trying to de-throne your family since the day he could ride a horse. “They’re proof my family has had ownership over the lands I’m asking about since before your family name ever existed. You simply raise both your brows, still looking through the box.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
But you don’t, you really don’t. There’s nothing anyone’s ever told you about Lord Roger’s land deeds besides the fact he has a lot of them.  His family’s been around for as long as yours has and has amassed a similar amount of wealth and power. He controls several important ports, his castle is nearly as large as yours.
It hits you then, what he’s doing.
Originally both lineages were at war for the last few thousand years, moving borders and people and livestock as their whims changed. They’d both fought to control the kingdom that’s encompassed the land it had for centuries, the deciding factor being one last territory that a woman four or so generations ago had seized during a tense buyout the Rogers lineage had always claimed was faked. That’s the only territory his family had ever asked for, something your mother had spent many nights telling you about. They’d tried everything to get it back, from raids to paying witnesses to give false accounts of the treaty signing. This was another, even cheaper shot at their goal—to overtake what your family had held so dear.
It’s easy to see now that the markings on the bones show tallies of cattle losses in a shorthand developed by farmers, indicating his family would’ve been working the land after the year the agreement had gone into place. This, of course, means absolutely nothing.
You chew your lip as you examine them, building up the courage to speak. “Lord Rogers, I am not sure this indicates anything meaningful. Many families work on land they do not own. This isn’t proof at all your family has any right over the land, or over the kingdom”
As you look closely at the engravings once more, “You stupid little bitch!”
You don’t have time to turn around; to slap him across the face, or find a letter opener to remind him of your years of self-defense training. All you have time to do is cry out as his palm meets your cheek, your screams becoming muffled as he grabs the back of your neck and turns you around so he can pin you against the desk.
“Peggy!” you try to yell, but all that comes out is a choked sound.
“You will give my family what we are owed. I will kill you if I have to.” His words are practically growls, holding you with one hand as he reaches into his coat. As you struggle, he flashes a thin, sharp knife in front of your eyes.
“Please-“ you kick at him, figurines your mother had collected (and you hadn’t yet had the heart to have a servant collect and placed in her quarters) fall to the hard ground. Some shatter immediately, others skidding across the floor. “Please don’t kill me I-“
“Shut the fuck up.” He flips the weapon in his hands, as if he was showing it off. “Now hold still, this doesn’t need to hurt. There are a few spots I can hit that’ll have you bleeding out in seconds. But if you want it to hurt, I can-“
He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before he’s thrown off of you, slammed into the nearest wall. You’re partially thrown with him, but Peggy’s arms keep you from traveling the same distance. One of the other guards, Valkyrie, holds him against the wall as Peggy drops to the floor to hold you. Other guards you can’t remember the names for flood in behind her, holding his arms behind his back and dragging him away.
“You’re okay, my queen,” Peggy whispers. “You’re going to be okay.”
She scans you for harm, eyes wide as she checks for broken bones or open wounds. A few spots are tender. One, most notably, at the place the table made contact with your abdomen. Still, nothing that can’t be healed with a few days of rest and (most important) nothing that will leave horrific and long-lasting scars. Katherine comes in soon after, taking you from Peggy and ushering you across the castle and to your bed. She fetches you something to drink and a cool cloth, fluffing your pillows once your heart has slowed enough that exhaustion replaces adrenaline.
It all happens so fast, you don’t have time to question why all of those women were close enough to help in the first place.
Peggy stands behind Katherine, watching as she comforts you.
As your eyelids grow heavy, she moves to pet your hair, leaning down to murmur into your temple. “I’ll be back, my queen.” You don’t hear it, sleep long since having pulled you into its arms. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”
She slips out of the room, silently exiting out of your area of the castle before finding a door hidden behind a tapestry depicting a field of poppies, your grandmother’s favorite flowers. The secret paths had been built the same time the castle was, meant to be a way for those that served in the castle to enter the servant’s quarters without disturbing the royals. Fifty or so years ago, though, too many servants were living there, and in an effort to stave rebellion, an addendum to the castle was built. Now, where some had lived, slept, and ate, lay abandoned rooms far from the eyes of royalty.
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The staircase is narrow, so narrow she has to hold her sword in front of her. She’s silent as she navigates the maze-like corridor, the path to her destination an easy show of muscle memory. The door, unassuming and identical to the rest of them, opens to a scene she’s been wishing for since she first saw Lord Rogers look you up and down all those years ago.
Five women, two on each side and one immediately behind, flank the man that sits tied to an old chair from the servants’ quarters. It’s been used for these sorts of nights before, as evidenced by the scuffed wood that marks where pieces of leather kept one’s limbs in place. They fight, they always do. For Peggy, it’s part of the fun. No sense in killing something without a desire to live.
She stands as the man sits, his face already bruised and bloody. Split lip, a cut through his right brow. Every time he spits it’s tinged pink. Even though she wishes they had held off until she arrived, Peggy wishes it was redder. Nothing matters more to her than the fact he remains in pain.
“Do you know what the punishment is for laying a hand on Her Majesty?” she asks.
He looks pathetic in the low candlelight, she thinks. He’s over six feet, covered in lean muscle and scars. She can see every pitiful inch of him—she instructed the other royal guards to strip him down when they grabbed him from his plush bed once all the royals had retired for the night. He was surprisingly easy to overpower, according to the message she received from the guards, delivered via a squire who had an affinity for staying up much too late. He was fast and, more importantly, quiet on his feet. Both necessary to avoid being caught. While many of the knights in this kingdom were women, it’s easy to see how his skills would do him well in the profession.
“You’ll never get away with this,” he spits out.
Peggy smirks, small laughs escaping from behind the others’ hands. She takes a moment to allow the others to collect themselves (and to give herself some time to savor the rage that washes over his face as he realizes they’re all laughing at him.
“Well,” she says eventually. “One of us tied to a chair right now, and it isn’t any of us, so…”
He snarls, reminding Peggy of one of the guard dogs that roam the farms around the castle. They look very similar, in a way—strong jaw, barred teeth, a little grimy from their misadventures. Lord Rogers lacks something that would shrink the gap between them. Those dogs, as innocent as they sometimes look, would defend their flock with their lives; she’s seen them ward off mountain lions to protect the sheep they’d grown up with.
Peggy doesn’t think he’d defend anyone other than himself.
Lord Rogers doesn’t know it (and, given his condition, he may never found out), but his personal knight was given an option: either leave, change his name, and abandon the Rogers lineage…or die trying to defend the bloodline he swore to secure.
Needless to say, he chose the latter, and his various body parts are being fed to pigs at the far end of the castle’s main farm. Kamala offered to do that, the young girl eager to be involved but not old enough to secure herself to the heart of the action. Truthfully, Peggy found the entire endeavor useless given they sent his head to Lord Rogers’ wife in an unlabeled box. It should arrive by the end of the month, giving them enough time to do what needs to be done.
“Do you confess?” Natasha asks, her sword secured in her belt. Peggy only enlisted the guards she believed were level-headed enough to follow her lead. Normally, she’s all right with those she relies on going rogue—she trusts them for a reason—but tonight requires a very specific form of precision.
Steven just scoffs. “Confess to what, exactly?”
“We know what happened with the Queen,” Jane says, her tone flat. “We know what you did to her.”
The man laughs the kind of fake, sarcastic laugh Peggy had come to loathe from him. “That bitch had it coming. She’s hiding something from me, just like her cunt m-”
He is interrupted quickly by the back of Peggy’s hand. It throws him off, stunning him
“Confess.” One of them say, calmly.
“Fuck you!” Lord Rogers will scream back. Unfortunately, it seems to have only quieted him for just a moment.
Each denial is met with a similar reaction.
This time, it’s Carol punching him so hard that he starts to spit out blood afterward. The time after that, it’s Monica carving out leg muscles with a farrier’s knife. After that, it’s Wanda flattening his fingers with a hammer. His body, morphing into some monstrous, destroyed thing, is tormented with every broken breath he takes. A slight wheeze tinges each exhale.
Peggy watches him, watches as the women she trusts with your life take him apart piece by piece. At the end of the night, long before the morning rises, he will be mangled to the point of no return before one of them gives him the undue mercy of ending his life. This was the plan, even if she had no desire to watch him receive such an undeserved gift. Originally, she’d wanted to keep him alive for days and show you her handiwork…but a stern conversation with Gamora had ended that conversation. Her magic gave her the kind of sense a brutish knight lacked, Peggy thought.
She steps back, tossing the hefty stick to Carol, who catches it. “Do what you need to do,” she says to no one in particular. “I’ve got what I need.”
Steven tugs at his restraints, the panic in his eyes palpable despite being nearly swollen shut. “You bitch! Let me out of here!”
Peggy just laughs, not bothering to face him as she walks away. The Lord’s pleas silence as she shuts the door behind her, deep screams becoming fainter and fainter as she sneaks down the corridor once more. She retraces her path, fire in her veins making the trip much shorter this time around. Before she knows it, she’s back in bed with you, tracing the indents your pillow’s creases have made on your cheeks.
“Peggy?” you murmur, your tired brow furrowing. Sleep rests heavy on your slurred speech, exhaustion still wracking your bones.
She shushes you, tucking herself under the covers. When you move over to give her unnecessary room, she merely grabs your hips to pull you back. When you return to your original spot still deep in the throws of sleep, Peggy lets a small smile escape from behind her teeth.
“Got a surprise for you when you wake up, baby,” she whispers. “Just go to sleep for now. Everything will be okay when you wake up.”
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bigbadripley · 1 year
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I want beefy!gp!Captain Carter on my desk!
On Repeat (18+)
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Pairing: Beefy!GP!Captain Carter x Shield!Fem!Reader | Minors DNI!!  ⚠️
Warnings: Sorta PWP, More like Peggy has YOU on your desk, no use of y/n, Peggy has a penis, This is my first GP fic, Kinda public kink, unprotected
Words: 1,011
Title based on "Pussy on Repeat" by Spillage Village
A/N:  You are responsible for your own media consumption. DL;DR. As always, if you find anything that needs to have a warning or I mislabeled something, please let me know~
Peggy looked beautiful today, standing and chatting outside your office in her suit. You just stared mindlessly, remembering the evening you shared not long ago. Her red lipstick is still all over your white pillowcase, and you can't remove the stain. Much like the imprint she's left on your senses.
"You're truly a work of art, Agent." She told you before sucking on your nipples hungrily. It had been a long time coming after eye-fucking each other in meetings since you started at S.H.I.E.L.D. 
A knock at your office door broke your trance, and you found yourself wiping away drool with the back of your hand before calling them in. Of course, it had to be the star of your head movie. "Am I interrupting something?" Peggy asked thoughtfully. You started shaking your head, maybe a little too much. 
"No, not at all. How can I help you, Captain?" 
"I wanted to go over the plan for our mission later if that's alright?"
"Oh, of course! Go for it." 
As Peggy started speaking strategy, you found yourself lost in her lips and body movement as she pointed to places on the map you hung on your wall with her right index finger, dragging it slowly from point to point. Before long, you found your eyes dropping to her pelvic region. 
"Don't be gentle." You told her before she buried her cock in you with a shallow grunt, bottoming out as you stretched around her girth. 
"Earth to Agent Spacecase!" She interrupted your daydream once more, catching onto your not-listening. 
"Apologies, Captain. I've had a lot on my mind." You admit, trying to avoid the detail of "a lot" being the time she fucked you senseless. It was then you remembered how you got to that point in the first place. 
"Just got a lot of my mind." 
"Then let me help you forget for a while."
As if it was a code phrase, Peggy went to your office window and let down the shades. "Stand up." She urged. You did as instructed, unsure of where it was going but delighted all at once. She moved slowly and gracefully behind you until you were trapped between her and your desk.
A broad hand moved your hair out of the way of the left side of your neck before you felt hot breath next to your ear. "You don't care to hear about the mission, do you?" She spoke softly, bringing a hand under your skirt and between your things. Her middle finger plunged into the dampness of your underwear, roughly stuffing the cotton between your slit. 
It was almost enough to make you forget where you were as she set the fire. You could feel her length growing hard against your ass, rutting on you as she felt your cunt. 
"Peggy," You said breathlessly, nearly ready to protest until she took her free hand and shoved you forward, bending you at your waist over your desk. A cup of pens and a file flew to the floor as your hands braced on the wood. 
"I know we're in your office. You'll need to be quiet for me, darling." She said, sounding completely casual. Her fingers curled under your skirt and pulled it up, leaving your panty-clad ass exposed. She gripped your cheeks, running loving hands over your roundness and admiring the red lace. "My favorite color. I'll have to keep these on." 
Just as you found your breath, you heard a shift behind you and felt her cock spring free and slap against your right buttock. Peggy then moved your panties over, exposing your cunt to the open air. You shivered as you felt her grind between your asscheeks, making herself good and hard for you. 
"Please." You let out, nearly whispering the single plea. Peggy wasted no time giving you what you wanted, harshly slamming her cock into your dripping hole. "Fuck!" You said, using every bit of self-control you had to keep it under a yelp. 
"Be quiet, love." She demanded, stilling her cock inside you, getting used to the tightness around her as she yanked at your underwear, stretching against your hip and crook of your thigh until you heard a loud rip. "I really did love those." She said before reaching over for your body and stuffing the wad of your own panties into your mouth as a gag.
Peggy started ramming in and out of you, pistoning her throbbing length as you quietly wail into the thin, ripped fabric inside your lips. "Such a good girl for me, as always." She praised. "Been thinking about making you cum again." 
The more she pumped, the harder it became to stand. You felt your knees begin to buckle under you, and Peggy noticed just as fast, wrapping an arm under your pelvis and holding you up as she fucked you roughly. You continued to moan and cry, tasting yourself on your panties. 
"Your cunt was made for me. So tight." She rambled. Every word from that English accent pushed you further and further, ready to combust. "You're gonna cum for me. I can feel it. Do it now, darling." She commanded. 
Your orgasm burst through your core with a gush as you beat your hand on your desk, needing to express your pleasure. Your wetness coated every inch of skin between you and ran down your bare thighs as Peggy continued to fuck you through it. 
"That's a good fucking girl." She praised more as her pounding grew faster. "I'm gonna fill you up, love." 
You felt her warmth fill you as she came with a low moan, deeply pushing herself into you to ensure she came as deep in you as possible. A couple of sloppy, slow thrusts followed before she pulled out of you with a pop. You clamped your thighs tightly together and stood, not wanting to lose any of it as you removed the wad from your mouth. 
"Now that that's out of your system, shall we continue with strat?" Peggy offered between heavy breaths. 
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omgopalsapphire · 1 year
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imkittyjustkitty · 2 years
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Kitty's Daily Pride — Day 5
prompt ; strength
pairings ; Peggy Carter x Reader
summary ; Nothing went right today, anything that could possibly go wrong, did. It's all too much and all that you want is for your girlfriend to hold you in her arms and comfort you, to promise that everything will be alright.
+ fem!reader (no pronouns but reader wears a skirt and and reader's boss is sexist so yeah)
warnings ; pet names (love, darling, & dear used endearingly by Peggy, sweet cheeks used derogatorily by reader's boss) , swearing , sexism (reader has a shitty boss) , creeps trying to look at reader in places they should not be , talk of reader being overstimulated , talk about being/feeling sick , reader is overwhelmed and freaking out , basically just a bunch of bad stuff bc reader had a shit day
genre ; hurt/comfort
word count ; 1119
A/N ; hiii !! here's some peggy comfort <3 is this somewhat inspired by me having a bad day ? yes indeed sdnkfnk , i also plan on writing more peggy comfort because i love her sm <3
do not steal, repost, or redistribute my work in any way.
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To put it simply, you'd had the worst day. You'd arrived late to work due to the fact that your girlfriend Peggy, who would usually wake you both up, had stayed late at her job last night and subsequently not being able to come home that night, meaning by the time you woke up you were almost an hour late and rushing out of your apartment with the overwhelming worry that you'd forgotten something.
You had. You'd forgotten half of your work uniform, so then you were showing up to your job in yes, the right shirt, but you had completely forgotten to change your bottoms and now you were wearing dark grey pants to your job as a waitress. And your boss was not happy.
He would never shut up about 'professionalism and presentation in the workplace' but really he just wanted to see his female employees in skirts and it was disgusting. You hated it but you couldn't do anything about it, you needed a job.
But sometimes, it was way too much for you to handle. The diner you work at just never stopped being overstimulating and overwhelming, it felt like a punishment for something you hadn't done.
Your hellish day didn't stop at being reprimanded by your boss for wearing the wrong uniform, and not just the wrong uniform but for wearing 'pants? I think you're a bit confused sweet cheeks'.
He forced you to wear a spare skirt from a waitress who had previously worked there, and it was not at all your size. It was dusty and torn at the seam, so every step you took you had to awkwardly pull it up to make sure it didn't fall right off you. You received weird looks all around you, and the occasional creep watching you carefully, waiting for your skirt to slip so they could see your exposed skin. You felt fucking sick.
And then every customer at the diner seemed to decide that today was the day they all turn against you, and make sure they were the rudest and most impatient people that is humanly possible, and push you to the edge knowing that you couldn't react for the sake of your job.
You'd had enough when you'd finally left your job, making your way home, and realised when in the rush of leaving for work this morning, you'd locked your apartment keys inside your apartment. Which in the grand scheme of things should not have been the mental blow it was, yeah maybe a bit of a panic before realising your girlfriend also had a key, and that'd be it. But no, today had been terrible. It had been so trying on you mentally and this, of all things, had been your last straw.
So now you found yourself sliding your back down the wooden door of your locked apartment, tears pouring out as you pull your knees up and hide your face.
You hate your habit of waking up late no matter how hard you try to change your sleep schedule in a way that would benefit you.
You hate your boss for being so backwards and idiotic.
You hate the customers at the diner for being so disgusting and rude.
You hate yourself for forgetting to get your key out of your apartment before you locked it in there.
But most of all, you miss your girlfriend and you hate how long it's been since you've last seen her.
You don't know how long you've been sat here, head between your legs, not even trying to calm down, just crying and crying and crying. You don't know if people have seen you sobbing in the hallway, and quickly turned the other way, or how many people have walked past you as quietly and rapidly as possible to get past and away from the weeping girl on the second floor of an apartment complex...
"Y/n!? Darling is that you??"
Your body immediately freezes at the familiar voice and hurried footsteps nearing your trembling figure.
"Oh love, oh dear c'mere, what happened?" Peggy asks you, bending down to rest the balls of her feet as she rests her palms on your shaking knees, her heart breaking as she takes in the view of you, broken and crying at the door of your shared apartment.
You try to slow your ragged breathing to answer your girlfriend, but all that comes out is a strangled whine, and Peggy's heart breaks impossibly more.
"Oh love, it's okay, i'm here," Peggy comfort you as she moves to sit next to you, pulling you to her chest and soothingly rubbing your back.
"It's okay dear, I'm here," Peggy whispers comforting things to you as you wrap your arms around her, she tells you about something funny she overheard about a co-worker, a memory of when she was a kid, she tells you anything sweet and funny that comes to mind, no matter how small.
She tells you about how her least favourite smell is that of strawberries, for no discernible reason other than the fact that it is far too sweet of a scent, and that 'really, strawberries taste nice so they already have that going for them, but then they also smell sweet? I don't trust it, no one needs that much going for them', which makes you giggle at your girlfriend, looking up from where you head is buried in her chest, to see your beautiful Peggy smiling down at you, love and adoration flooding her soft eyes.
"Thank you, Peg," you whisper, as she moves her sleeve to gently wipe stray tears off your cheeks.
"Of course love, I'm always here for you, okay?"
You let out a deep breath and nod your head, "Yeah.. Peg, I love you, ya'know?"
"I love you too Y/n," Peggy grins softly at you.
After a moment of you two just enjoying being in each other's presence, Peggy speaks up.
"Ok well, I don't know about you but it is so bloody cold out here," She laughs, starting to stretch her arms, "How about we head in, yeah?"
"Yeah, it is pretty cold," You smile at your girlfriend as she helps you stand up on shaky legs, still holding your hand as she goes to unlock the apartment door.
Smiling as the two of you walk into your shared apartment, you watch your beautiful girlfriend as she grabs her bag and carries it in with her, heels clicking along the wooden floor boards. You can't help but feel like everything is and will be okay, because as long as you have Peggy, the love of your life by your side, everything will work out.
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reblogs are appreciated so much !!
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finnicks · 1 year
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( fic ) waiting
waiting
mcu | peggy/steve; teen; 200 words Peggy was waiting for him at the end of the line.
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thespiritoflife · 2 years
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Pairing: Peggy Carter x Fem!reader
Warnings: grammatical errors, ANGST
The necklace
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Peggy looked at me. Who would have said that this is for the last time ..
"Y / N. I'll see you when you get back," she whispered. There was a promise in her sentence. The promise that when I come back, we'll finally be together.
After so many years. After so many years of hiding our feelings. After so many years of a pain in our hearts. After so many years of grief. We couldn't be together. We couldn't.
"Agent Carter! Come here, we need you, " someone shouted at her.
"I'm coming," she shouted back, looking at me once more.
"I'll be back," I assured her, and I hurried to the plane. Steve and Bucky were in it. They both smirked. I rolled my eyes and said nothing. They probably knew what was going on between me and Peggy. But I didn't feel like tell them something. It was just between me and her.
I touched the necklace. She gave it to me herself. She said I could not return it to her until the end of time. So never.
I smiled.
My beloved Peggy.
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Cars raged in New York and blew horns. I put my palms to my ears. It didn't help. Nick Fury's words kept ringing in my head.
I felt terribly cold. White darkness. Nothing. No Peggy. No love. Nothing........
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"You slept for 70 years ..."
"Are you asking where Steve Rogers is? He's stayed in the past."
"I've told you for the hundredth time that I don't know where's Peggy ..."
It hurt. I couldn't believe it. I was born to live during the 20th century, not the 21st century.
She was left alone.
I cried desperately. People ignored me. It was so different .. Everything.
And I cried even more when I noticed a happy pair of women.
"You married." I said. I finally went to visit her. She remembered me. She cried when she saw me. She was still alive. Her body was old, but her soul was not.
I wanted to go back. To Peggy.
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"Y / N .. are you alive .."
I held her hand. A few tears ran down my cheeks.
"We weren't given it." I whispered.
Peggy interrupted me. "We weren't, but it probably should have been like thjs... maybe in the next life," her voice sounded hopeful.
How come she still had hope? Hope died in me.
I put a necklace in her hand. "End of time," I muttered.
Peggy's face suddenly changed. She threw the necklace on the ground. "Who are you? What do you want?"
I cried. "Peggy, it's me .. Y / N .."
My heart was even more destroyed when I heard that she had died in 3 days. I stared at her necklace at her funeral. She had it around her neck.
"I don't know you ... I don't know you ..." she muttered, startled and my heart broke.
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She died with me.
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hr-nm-grnd-zr · 10 months
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Peggy Carter - Mermay Prompt “Scales” Ao3
no warnings except maybe grammar errors
This takes place after Season 2, she doesn’t know about her brother yet.
I’ve had this Mermaid Peggy headcanon for a while now and I kinda like it. Might post more every once in a while. Feel free to send ideas but I cannot promise anything.
@peggycarterbingo
It had been a long day, very hot as well due to the L.A. sun. Peggy was driving home in a car which, now that she was staying in L.A. for a while longer, had been designated to her. It came in quite useful considering Mr. Jarvis had been busy driving Howard around after he had finished his movie project. In fact, him and both Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis went on a business trip over the next few days. They had left earlier that day and wouldn’t be back until Wednesday afternoon.
She turned into the Stark Mansion driveway, stopping in front of the door. It was the first time she would be alone for more than a few hours in this House. She had been thinking about it for a few days now. It had been a long while, with all the working and all the people around her. Also, the water quality in New York’s rivers was worse than just questionable. She had been living here for a few months now but was way too busy to go to the beach. And even though she considered Mr. Jarvis one of her best friends, with his good observation skills it was hard to stay unseen when he was so eager to drive her everywhere. Especially late in the evenings, which was the best time to go swimming without risking anyone to see her. It was frustrating, to say the least. Peggy got out of the car, taking her keys from her bag and opened the door. “Hello?”, she shouted into the house. ‘Just making sure’, she thought. When nobody answered she made her way to the kitchen, dropping off her bag in the hallway, to get something cold to drink. She found a cold, homemade lemonade from Mrs. Jarvis. Peggy wouldn’t tell her husband of course but Ana made the best lemonade she’d ever had. She took the jug out of the fridge and got a glass from the cupboards. Pouring the drink while she walked to the garden, then sat down at the table outside and considered the pool for a second while she practically downed her first glass of lemonade. It was way too hot in this city. Looking around again she slowly got up. No one was here. She unbuttoned her blouse and took off her trousers, subconsciously slipping off her shoes in the process. Walking towards the pool she took off her bra and underwear leaving them in a trail on the floor. She dipped her toes into the water. It wasn’t too cold but nice and refreshing. She sat down on the edge feeling the tingly sensation of the shifting on her legs as scales started to appear. Quickly she lowered herself into the pool, her legs fusing together, her bones getting more flexible shifting into a different structure. She let herself drop under the water breathing out and taking a deep breath of water in. Pool water wasn’t ideal, but it would do for now. Peggy sank to the bottom letting the water cool her overheated body temperature. If she were over the water, you could hear her long sigh. Instead, a bit of left over air escaped her lungs in small bubbles. She couldn’t say how long she swam in that pool, maybe 30 minutes, maybe two hours. Peggy had gotten so used to not being able to swim she totally forgot how good it felt. Like coming home after a very long day. Her thoughts drifted to her parents back in England and her brother. How they had visited related family on the coast and their father teaching them all about their heritage from the sea. Feeling nostalgic she was now letting herself float on the water, deep in thought. That’s when the doorbell rang. Opening her eyes and blinking confused she wondered who could be at the door. Freezing for a moment she remembered Daniel had wanted to come by for dinner. She swam towards the edge of the pool from where she could see the clock on the living room wall. It was 5 pm. He was just on time. Shit. She let her tail shift back into legs as fast as possible and climbed out of the pool. Picking up her clothes on the way to the cabinet. She opened it, got out two towels and stuffed her clothes inside. She wrapped the small one around her head. When she was rubbing the water off her body the bell rang again. Stumbling a bit Peggy made her way to the front door while wrapping the bigger towel around herself, trying to conceal as much as possible. In the hallway she quickly checked in the mirror for panda eyes but the water had washed all the make up away. Only a hint of her red lipstick was left on her lips. She opened the front door. Hadn’t it been so embarrassing she would have laughed at the expression on Daniels face. He was mid frozen in knocking on the door, looking up and down her body. Peggy laughed nervously. “I must have forgotten about the time.”, she offered, and Daniel raised one of his eyebrows. “Where you still in the shower?” “Actually…”, she paused, pursing her lips, “I was in the pool.” Now he was grinning. “You? In the pool?” “Yes me.”, she said in mock offense. “It is surprisingly relaxing when Howard isn’t around.” Peggy took a step back to let Daniel in while he still grimaced at her last comment. Closing the door, she offered: “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in the garden for a moment. There’s lemonade on the table.” Pausing she furrowed her brows. “You might need some ice, it has been out there for a few hours. I suppose it must be warmed up by now.” Chuckling, Daniel gave her a peck on the cheek. “Alright. I’ll wait for you there.” Peggy smiled and turned around to run up the stairs. “I’ll be quick!”, she shouted back at him. “Okay.”, Daniel answered grinning. But just as she turned around the corner something on her left leg caught his eye. It had only been there for a second. He must’ve imagined it. Daniel shook his head and walked to the kitchen to get the ice. But it had looked so real. He thought he had seen some bright red scales on Peggy’s calf.
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innoctemastra · 7 months
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Girlfriends on a mission.
Which would just be Peggy being worried about Nat the whole time.
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mostlymarvelsstuff · 2 months
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Reader receives Peggys nudes accidentally
Authors note: For Cap Carter specifically (Agent Carter is also hot, but this damn super soldier has me in a choke hold)
Word count: 691 Marvel Masterlist How They React To Masterlist
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   Technology is not her strong suit, she'd be the first one to tell you that too. So, it's hardly a surprise that she messed something up regarding her phone and its picture sending abilities. However, it is a surprise that she managed to accomplish sending you not just one, but two full frontal nudes that she had experimentally taken in the mirror after a shower while back. And she'd somehow done so just by shoving her phone in her pocket haphazardly after leaving a meeting. Great.
   She has no idea what to do here, is there a way to unsend a photo? She hasn't a clue. Stark would know, and could probably do it too, but she would rather fist fight an alligator than explain this situation to the smug genius and have him see her pictures
   “Oh, hell…” she mutters as she notices the read symbol showing up below the messages. 
   Knowing that you've now actually seen them, meaning you've seen her in full glory, has her face turning nearly as red as the stripes on her suit. Even though she's sure you're aware this was accidental, she wishes to apologize for her enormous blunder, but currently her hands just won't cooperate. 
   On your end, you really aren't fairing much better. You had been working on finishing up some after mission reports when your phone went off, twice. Now normally you would have ignored it, as you really did need to finish the paperwork for Hill. But from the drop-down notification you could see that it had been Peggy, and since you have a soft spot for the woman, and no it certainly wasn’t because you were crushing on her, you decided to let yourself be distracted
   You come to regret that now though, because you're absolutely certain you were not meant to see those pictures of her. And you feel terrible, because even knowing that, you couldn't stop yourself from looking anyway. You knew the serum had bulked her up, afterall you'd gotten glimpses of some of that due to her workout apparel, but seeing her bare really drove the point home of just how fit she truly was. And the way the water droplets gathered in the recesses of her defined muscles, god was it attractive. But you do your best to shake those thoughts away. Now was not the time to ogle, as she was surely panicking. Now was the time to be casual, if at all possible. 
   She's not sure how long she sat there mentally berating herself for getting you both into this mess before her phone dings. She's all too aware that it was a message coming through and her stomach twists in knots with the anticipation that it's most likely you responding to her photos. She takes a deep breath before picking up the device to read your message
   Jesus Peg, take a girl to dinner first
   Her stomach twists again, but this time for an entirely different reason. You didn’t sound upset that you had gotten them, and you certainly weren’t disgusted by her accidental implication that you’d be into another woman. In fact, though you were trying to be comical about the ordeal, it almost seemed as though you liked them. And the thought alone had her heart pounding in her chest
   Bloody device had a mind of its own, I am truly sorry
   No harm done. Besides, I’d rather get your nudes than anyone else's
   Oh my god, did you really just type that? And hit send?? You slam your head down against your desk with a groan and pray that it goes undelivered, or that somehow her phone spontaneously combusts before she can read it. However, you aren't that lucky.
   Her eyebrows raise at your admission, and she finds herself chewing on her bottom lip in contemplation. Should she take a risk? Surely there'd be no harm in it, if you reacted this well to an unsolicited picture of her naked then your reaction to a date request wouldn’t be anything she couldn’t handle.
Well then, how about we grab that dinner? I can pick you up at 6
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Tea And Company x W.M
Mob Boss!Wanda x Police Officer!Reader
Lunch with Peggy and little Ellie won't be that bad, right?
But what happens when you three are ambushed by aggressive forces after Wanda, will her motivations finally be shone to light, and will you finally understand her ideas? Or will you be left in the dark like those before you?
Warnings: Kidnapping, abuse, fighting, murder, mob boss!wanda, darkish!wanda, soft!dark!peggy carter, swearing, small child abuse (only brief), guns, past talk of past girlfriends, past kidnapping.
Part 5 of my '365 days' AU
Word Count: 1.9k
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Tag List:
@avengerfan28
@thalia-is-not-ok
@gaylorvader
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You sat awkwardly in the wooden chair in front of Peggy, Ellie sitting beside you both as she coloured in her pictures, her little lips spread into a relaxed smile that was completely different to how you felt.
You watched with hesitant eyes as Peggy poured herself a drink of water before she smiled up at you, her eyes crinkled in the edges with softness as she pointed the jug of water towards your empty cup.
You nodded at the silent question before resting your hands in your lap before you took a gentle sip from your cup, your fingers twitching nervously as you were unsure of what you should do in this situation.
"You can pick from anything on the menu, dear, I'll pay."
You began to move your lips to protest but Peggy simply raised a hand to stop you, her grin widening as she shook her head gently at you,
"No need, dear, take it as a sorry for putting up with Wanda."
You let your mouth fall open in shock at her words, Peggy shrugged her shoulders before taking another sip of her drink,
"I love the kid, don't get me wrong, and Steve's practically like a father to her, but she has some.. issues to say the least that she needs to get the fuck over, before she ends up hurting someone other than herself."
You swallow down your blunt comment as you look over the menu before your eyes fell on the sweet potato chips, that sounded good for now.
"I would like the sweet potato chips, please."
You watch as she raises an eyebrow at you, you shrug in response as you respond bluntly,
"I don't think I could stomach anymore."
You watch as she nods her head before flagging down a waiter, you sit there awkwardly once again as you watch her order for the three of you before it's just you again/
"Now, Y/n, you have no need to say no to this but I know that Wanda kidnapped you more or less. Don't take it to heart, she does it with every girl she finds a fascination with, the girl can't just understand how to do it the easy way."
You pale at the mention of Wanda doing all of this before, then your eyes widen at the memory of all of the missing reports of young women going missing.
"I know, it's honestly disgusting to think of but there is a sweetheart believe it or not underneath all those... questionable morals."
You simply nod in response to her comments, before you hear her sigh, her fingers coming up to pinch at the bridge of her nose before she speaks again,
"All I need to know is that she's not harming you in any way, Wanda would never deliberately hurt someone, she just can't control her emotions very well and it leads to.. complications. But as long as you're safe and comfortable where you are I'm fine, if not, I'll get you out. Just.. spend a little more time with her, get to know her, then make your decision."
You move to speak but stop as you watch as food is placed in front of you all, you sigh as you begin to eat, your stomach rumbling in hunger as you eat your food within record timing.
But your ears twitch as you hear something familiar- is that a gun being loaded?
You immediately spring into action, you grabbing their food before flipping the table, your voice ringing out across the restaurant as you yell,
"Get down!"
Your hand wraps around Ellie's bicep before you pull her into you, Peggy sliding in beside you as you all hear guns being fired.
Your eyes looks from side to side as you wince at the view of dead bodies dropping to the ground, guilt shining through before you feel a firm squeeze on your bicep, looking to your side you see Peggy's sad smile as she speaks,
"There's nothing we could've done for them, you did good enough, all we need to do now, is get out of here."
You nod your head as you pat yourself down for your gun but then you groan when you remember the fact that Wanda probably had it taken off of you.
You groan as you swear underneath your breath, you looking down at Ellie as you frown before placing your hands over her ears to try and quieten the noise the guns are making, before looking back at Peggy, your eyes widened in surprise as you watch her pull a gun from a holster on her side,
"Where the fuck did these people come from? And who the fuck are they!?"
You watch as Peggy proceeds to shoot at them, you noticing how her aim is totally off as she yells back at you,
"People that Wanda's probably pissed off, I don't really know! Fucking damn it! I can't aim for shit!"
You roll your eyes as you huff before passing Ellie off to her mother before looking seriously at Peggy with your palm face up ready to take the gun from her,
"Give me the gun."
Peggy doesn't protest as she does what you tell her to do, only giving you a simple raise of her eyebrow as she watches you move to the side, you firing the gun as you shoot at the first gunman's shoulder, he falls down with a pained scream, Peggy watching with wide eyes as you proceed to shoot the rest in quick succession before handing her gun back off to her.
"We should get going before they enlist more."
You grab Ellie from her hold as the both of you hurriedly run to the car, you buckling Ellie into her seat before getting in yourself, Ellie looks up at you with a frown,
"Aunt Y/n, what's happening?"
You sigh as you look behind you, your anxiety on high alert as you speak softly down at her,
"Just some bad people trying to harm us, don't worry, darling, you're safe with mommy and Aunty."
You kiss her forehead as you grin at her before grabbing a packet of crisps from her bag in front of you, it's not lunch but it has to do until you get back to Wanda's.
~~
You all are out of breath as you walk through the front door, Wanda waiting as she holds out her arms for Ellie to run into, she does so as you qatch as Wanda kisses the top of her head.
Before her eyes move towards you, her eyes falling to the blood splattered across your cheek, you ignore her harsh glare as you watch as Steve hugs Peggy closely, his eyes worried as he looks over her,
"What the hell happened!?"
Your attention is brought back to Wanda as you watch how she's focusing her question on you, you furrow your brows in confusion as you speak,
"We were ambushed, I guess I got some of their blood on me."
Wanda's piercing green eyes then snap to look at Peggy as she speaks a little calmer,
"You gave her a gun. Didn't you?"
You hear Peggy sigh before she speaks,
"She asked for it and I gave it to her. She did a better job at shooting than I did."
You hear Wanda sigh as she pinches the bridge of her nose before she sets Ellie down to run over to her parents, Peggy picking her up as she rests her on her hip,
"I think you guys should leave, I need to speak with Y/n alone."
You watch as Steve and Peggy nod their heads before making their way towards the open front door, Peggy squeezing your shoulder before walking out, the door closing behind them as you're left alone with Wanda.
"Follow me."
You follow behind her as she leads you to what you can only assume to be her office before she closes the door behind you both, her speaking lowly as she directs you to sit down in front of her desk.
You follow her commands as you sit there anxiously as you watch her sit down in front of you, her hands in front of her as she looks up at you,
"Thank you."
Your eyes widen in surprise at what she just said, your eyebrow raising on your forehead as you look at her shocked,
"Did you- Did you just say thank you? T-To me?"
Wanda rolls her eyes before huffing, annoyed, at you probably before she speaks,
"Yes, thank you for being reckless and taking the gun, you protected not only Peggy but my niece, Ellie, and I'm thankful for it and I'm sure Steve is as well."
You nod your head slowly as you look at Wanda, unsure of what to do now as you watch Wanda start working on work papers, but there's still something that's nagging you about what Peggy said earlier, so you ask her that,
"W-Wanda? Uh, Peggy told me about your history with uh- this kind of hobby of yours. What happened to those before me and how do I know that I won't end up like them?"
You hear as Wanda sighs before she looks up at you,
"They were given back to their families unharmed.. well aside from a couple of memories that I removed, but that was for the best, and you won't end up like them because I-I- don't ask again."
You furrow your brows as you watch as blush creep up the side of her neck, you're confused because she hasn't answer all of your questions but before you're able to speak again, your head turns to look at the door opening, a redhead walking through as she smiles gently at you.
You look back at Wanda as she speaks without looking up,
"Y/n, this is Natasha, Natasha, Y/n. She will teach you how to do self defense, Y/n, because if I'm going to have you on my team, I want you to know extensive knowledge about how to defend not only other people but yourself as well."
Looking back at Natasha, you swallow roughly as you feel her tug on your hand, her pulling you along with her as she makes her way towards what you can only assume to be the gym.
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cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months
Text
Exhibitionist Kink with Peggy Carter ~Kinktober 2023
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Happy October 31st!!! Happy Halloween!! (If you celebrate) 🖤🎃
Previous Day <—found here!
Kinktober 2023 <—Here!!
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Mommy… Master List
Requests & Prompt-List
Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, Exhibitionist Kink, eating out, public sex, teasing, pet names, implied future smut, etc.
Enjoy (;
“Peg… What—?” You exclaimed in a hushed tone.
The woman had pushed you against her desk in the middle of the office. You had come to pick her up after work.
“Shhhh, Happy Halloween, Darling…” Peggy purred, then smashing her lips into yours.
You wanted to reciprocate so badly but the the high stakes of being so public made you pull away.
“Peg… Not here…” you stressed.
Peggy tilted her head to you and smirked.
“Why not…?” She coyly cooed, dropping to her knees and eyeing up at you mischievously, “Afraid you cannot stay quiet, Darling…?”
You gulped and your eyes widened. The woman was swift to get underneath your flowing skirt, pulling your knickers aside and hungrily attacking her mouth to your core. You fell back on the desk and your mouth dropped open as you tried desperately to stifle the moan that ripped through your body.
Your hands gripped the edge of her desk, your knuckles going white. Peggy’s hands spread your legs for even more access. Her tongue dipped into your slick sex expertly, making you come undone entirely.
And the worst part was that you only came faster at the thrill of being caught.
Fuck, Peggy had been right.
It was so difficult to stay quiet… You had to bite your lip hard. You swore that you had made yourself bleed. But it was so worth it. Peggy was making you see stars. Over and over again.
When she was finally done with you, you were a panting, shaky mess…
“Your turn?” You shakily breathed out.
“Oh no. I want you to hear me scream your name tonight.” Peggy purred, “Let’s go home, Darling.”
You nodded and stumbled off of her desk, making the brunette chuckle.
~~~
Peggy Carter Masterlist
Kinktober 2023 Masterlist
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peachyteabuck · 2 years
Text
permanent jetlag (please take me back)
summary: after being kidnapped, you realize slowly that things are not what they seem
a commission for someone who wishes to remain anonymous
pairing: peggy carter x reader
words: 7170
trigger warnings: straps ons, stockholm syndrome, PTSD/serious trauma from a toxic work environment, dark!peggy, kidnapping, drugging (nothing sexual happens until drugs have worn off), god complexes, supervillain!peggy
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The first thing you realize when you crack open your eyes is that it hurts. Everything hurts. The light stings, each inhale has your temples pounding even harder than before. You can feel your bones scraping against the muscles attached to them, each joint pops as you curl further into yourself. You feel like every hangover you had in college was rolled into some sort of horrible, lukewarm wrap that a rat is pulling from a dumpster in his paws.
There’s a ringing in your ears that ebbs and flows, but always stings from your toes to the top of your spine. Speaking of your spine, if it’s not broken in eight places you’d be surprised.
A voice both distance and near ripples like water above you, a sweet sound you’re not sure the origin of.
“Hi, darling,” it whispers. You can feel a hand brushing over your clammy forehead. “I know, baby, I know it hurts. It’s okay, it’ll be okay.”
You should probably be freaked out, probably should be kicking and screaming and trying anything and everything to get away. But you can’t speak, let alone run for your life. Fuck, everything hurts.
“Just go to sleep, love,” the voice coos. “I promise it’ll all feel better soon.”
You can’t fight it, can barely muster up a sarcastic retort. So, you do all you can: you just curl up into the best ball you can manage and fall, very non-blissfully, into the deep, black, murky bliss of your sweet unconscious.
You’re awoken by the sound of typing. It’s fast, consistent typing that reminds you of late nights in the library before exams – confident, quick, focused. You’re in a different spot from the hard floor from earlier. You open your eyes just enough to see that it’s a large bed. It’s unmade, the numerous beige blankets strewn across the entire bed.
A woman in a maroon, large knit sweater faces away from you. It doesn’t take long to realize she’s the source of the typing. She’s in front of two large monitors, the familiar black background and colored text lines of code.
You want to turn around, want to try and silently move around so you can see where exactly you are.
But then you hear a dog bark, and your plan is over before it’s truly begun.
“Knox!” the woman snaps around in her chair to call what you presume is the dog’s name. “Heel!”
The dog immediately trots over to her side, steely gaze still trained on you when he sits to her right. He’s wearing a thick collar adorned with silver stones you soon realize are diamonds. The woman doesn’t turn around again, doesn’t even look at the dog. She just waits until he’s properly placed himself, and goes back to whatever it is she’s doing.
What the fuck is going on?
“I-uh…”
Should you even be talking? Are there rules to being kidnapped? You feel like you should’ve paid more attention during the part of your onboarding that involved watching survival training videos for hours on end.
The woman across from you doesn’t turn her back as she speaks, busy typing and moving her mouse and occasionally petting her dog. You’re a little petrified of upsetting in her in some, of sending her off the rails so that she kills you or maims you or…you don’t know, something worse than that. The dog continues to stare at you with its heavy gaze, black eyes bearing into yours in the same way one expects a disappointed parent or upset boss.
You pull the blankets tighter to you as you try to muster the will to speak.
“Wh-“
She cuts you off before you can get out as much as a syllable. “Who am I? Where are you? What is this? Why are you here?”
The woman laughs, as if this is a game to her and you’re already losing. “Do you really not know who I am?”
You shake your head, looking her over once more. She seems…familiar…in the same way one can smell the scent of fresh-baked bread amongst the thousands of other scents on the average New York City street. You’ve seen her face somewhere, if only you could find the single string amongst hundreds of others that leads to revealing her identity in your complicated, overused memory.
She sits back down, crossing one leg over the other and resting her arms on the rests attached to her chair. “I’m Captain Carter. And I want to destroy the Avengers.”
You blink once. Twice. Three times.
“You’re Captain Carter?”
The woman in front of you shrugs just a little. “The one and only.”
That triggers a wave of understanding. Whispers in the breakroom, emails flashing across screens you’re not supposed to see. News stories that are buried at larger publications but slipping through the cracks at the lower ones. Mentions of her on the Dark Web sites you frequent to blow off steam.
Shady businessmen mysteriously dying. Stocks dropping overnight. Bank accounts in tax havens around the world emptied. Dossiers leaked. Politicians failing re-election despite poll numbers. Politicians leaving office under mysterious circumstances. International and domestic incidents, all unexplainable.
She’s rogue, but she certainly has a steeled code of ethics. You have to respect that about her.
Just then, another dog – nearly identical to the one in front of you (Knox, you remember his name) – comes walking into the room. It sees its brethren and sits on the woman’s opposite side, seemingly bored with the whole situation. As if its owner has kidnapped a menagerie of poor, helpless victims before – and it’s only a matter of time before you’re replaced just as the others were.
A slew of thoughts beat against your already sore skull, your heart thumping in rhythm with the horrendous symphony.  The steeled gaze of the dog sure as shit doesn’t help, its soulless eyes a terrifying preamble to the cruelty you’re terrified you’ll face.
You can’t wrap your head around it – the entire situation.
You’re a scientist. You wear your silly little lab coat and do your silly little experiments. You help colleagues write grants, you teach every once and a while, you publish papers every so often. You’re recognizable, sure. But you’re certainly not world-renowned. No one outside your field really knows who you are, and it’s not like the Avengers know, either.
So why this woman kidnapped you is beyond your understanding.
It’s a long while before she turns back around, the typing stopping for only a second before you’re locking eyes. The first thing you notice is how…calm she seems. It’s as if she’s ordering as a regular in a family restaurant, or picking up her clothes from the dry cleaners. For her, it seems the situation feels mundane; some sort of regular occurrence.
“Don’t worry about her,” she gestures to the equally bored dog. “It’s not that Maverick doesn’t like you…” she continues petting her, who continues to look completely unamused with the situation. “She’s just very protective.”
You wish you felt comfortable enough to give a dry laugh. Yeah, you want to jab. I’m really the threat here, you should be super worried about me right now. So sorry for making you worry about your own safety.
“How are you feeling?” the woman looks at you with what you think is genuine concern. “I know those drugs are quite strong.”
You want to scoff, ask her if she was so worried why she would drug you in the first place. But you’re too exhausted to be sarcastic, your head pounding too much to churn out witty retorts. “I..” You’re unsure of what to say. “I’m not great, but I guess it could be worse.”
The woman gives you a small smile. “That’s good. There have been some reports of serious long-term neurological damage, but I was assured that your monitoring during transport raised no red flags. You’re very healthy, you know.”
You cringe just a little, thinking about your steady diet of energy drinks, chips, and ramen. Sure…healthy.
When you look back up from the floor you realize she’s…staring. She’s staring at you. You fidget under her intense gaze, folding your arms over your chest to cut her off. The feeling of your face heating forces your face down again, staring back at your socked feet once more.
“So why me?” You chew on your bottom lip as you ask, the words propelled out of your mouth by sheer adrenaline. It’s the only way you can meet her eyes again, too, your rapid heartbeat straightening your spinal cord and forcing your face forward.
The woman’s own expression falls a bit, but she quickly fixes her signature smile.
“I’ve been watching Stark Tower for a long while…figured it would be a good way to get to know more about the whole…” she wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Operation. I had various helpers with surveillance who brought me a few possible targets for consideration.”
You cross your arms across your chest, uncomfortable with how much you didn’t notice. “A-and you decided on me?”
She nods.
“Why?”
The woman hmms. It’s obvious she put considerable thought into her decision to, well, kidnap you. What she mulls over is whether she wants to tell you.
“Truthfully, you were the first to really catch my eye—all the other people we tailed were very aware of their surroundings,” you flinch as you remember how tired you always felt after shifts, your usual paranoia superseded by extreme fatigue. You still clutched your pepper spray with an iron grip, but a pair of goggles and a good long-sleeved shirt could overcome that decently easily. You’ve never been…a fighter, in that sense. It’s not as if you remember what happened, or all the times you were followed home, or when you were forced to do some bullshit sparring session with the trainees for whatever reason. You had a habit of blacking out, unfortunately, your fight or flight response fucked after years of pushing yourself.
She continues. “And I found it curious that your security detail was lacking, considering your position.”
A huff escapes you. It’s probably not the biggest deal that you don’t get the same 24-hour security or a free home security system that alerted Stark Industries’ personnel if someone were to break into your apartment, or any of the other FBI shit the other, higher-level scientists get. But still, the fact not a single person was monitoring you when you were walking from your lab, the fact no one saw that you were taken….
You dig your blunt nails into your palms to calm the storm inside of you. Everything you’ve suppressed for years slowly reveals itself, bubbling to the surface at a snail’s pace.
“I found it especially weird considering your great contributions to Stark Industries.”
You turn away from her, hiding the sneer inside of you. What’s disturbing to you, though, is not that you’re upset with her. She’s…right. She’s deeply and unfortunately right.
She continues, her voice feeling far away as a pit of despair settles in your gut. “All in all, lowest risk and greatest possible reward.”
It’s hard to argue with her point. Especially since she’s…correct. About all of it. You didn’t have high security, even when you traveled internationally on public planes. It always felt weird to you that the others often had at least one bodyguard, and carried around special Stark phones with 24/7 trackers. You took a self-defense class every year, sure, but never got the always-changing passwords or security team or the occasional Avenger guarding you when you conducted field research.
It's soul-crushing to realize that you were easy prey. It’s as if you were an injured gazelle, a bird that dropped from the nest too soon, the bunny too tired from being chased.
You try to swallow the boulder in your throat. Bile threatens to rise, too, and you struggle to fight the urge to ask where the bathroom is. If this is how it feels to live in reality…you’d rather go back to your false sense of self again.
One of the dogs – Knox – nudges his head into your hand, whining just a little. Is he…trying to comfort you? It feels ridiculous, you haven’t even tried to gain his trust and you don’t know anything about animal behavior. Do dogs know when you’re freaked out? When you’re scared out of your mind? When you’re glad you finally got your last will and testament notarized a week ago? You let him bump against your hand, though, licking at your palm.
“I’m glad he likes you,” she nearly whispers, as if she doesn’t want to spoil the moment. “He doesn’t normally enjoy new people.”
You preen just a little, the feeling of this dog accepting you so easily. It’s easier, with that knowledge, to scratch him behind the ears more aggressively; to let him lick all over your hand.
There’s a long silence, the heavy kind that comes after a heavy conversation. It reminds you of when your mom said she couldn’t afford to pay for your undergraduate degree like she had promised. Or when your dad told you he was divorcing your mom.
“I’m Peggy, by the way,” she tells you, as if it was something you had begged her to tell you. It was nice to know, of course, you thought you’d scream it as loud as you could when she’d try to dispose of you in the future. “No one calls me that. But I figured ‘Ms. Carter’ would be a little weird considering the circumstance.”
Peggy. You turn it over in your brain, admiring it from all sides. It feels warm, like a fresh croissant handmade in a fancy French bakery. Perfectly flaky and buttery, melting in your mouth as you sink your teeth into it. It warms you, the chill on your skin fading you try to make sense of everything that’s happened to you.
It's silent for a moment, the both of you watching each other. It’s not the awkward silence, though, but the nice kind, the calming kind. You choose not to think too hard about how it’s better than the angry silence of the late nights in your lab.
A deeply annoying, shrill sound interrupts the blessed moment.
“Well, would you look that…”  The woman – Peggy - turns, facing a pulsing blue circle in the center of her screen.
“What’s that?” The trill chime grates against your ears. It reminds you too much of the same chime Stark Industries uses for their teleconferencing platform.
Peggy just smiles, eyeing the screen. “That, darling, is the call to negotiate your return.”
Took ‘em long enough, you think. You stay where you are, watching as she answers the call. She’s already in frame, and from your position to the side you can see all the Avengers in the same conference room you’ve seen them have countless arguments in. At the sight of the interior of Stark Tower, your heart rate nearly doubles – all you can think about is the work you left unfinished, the food in the fridge you bought so you didn’t need to leave for lunch or dinner or breakfast or-
Peggy’s voice cuts through the mental noise, tugging your sinking body back up to the surface.
“Gentlemen,” she greets, a Cheshire cat grin growing on her face. “And Natasha,” she adds when she notices the Black Widow’s annoyed eyebrow raise. “Where’s that nice little witch you picked from Sokovia? Haven’t seen her in awhile.”
Steve pointedly ignores her. “We know you took her.”
You’re just off-camera – able to see them but out of the range of the lens. It’s a weird place to be, the fly on the wall of what feels like a nuclear meltdown. Just as an onlooker of a car crash, you can’t find it in yourself to tear your eyes away from the traumatic scene in front of you. You can feel your heart bursting in your chest, crashing against your ribs at a pace you’re sure indicates it’s about to explode.
“Peggy,” Steve’s voice is pointed, the same kind you heard when he was speaking at the UN after they found loose nukes in South America. ”We know you have her. Just tell us what you want for her.”
Peggy just laughs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you be any more specific, Stevie?”
He ignores her use of the nickname, even if a vein in his neck begins to protrude. You feel as though you’re watching a game of cat and mouse, if the mouse was more stubborn than afraid. “Peggy, please, we know you took a scientist of ours. We just want her back.”
Tony speaks up, equally frustrated. “What is this about,” he scoffs. “Money, we’ll give you money. Just tell us what it is you want, what it is you’re looking for.”
Peggy just laughs – that dignified, artificial kind you’ve heard from PTA moms since you were in elementary school. “Not sure why you want her now, though, considering you were so willing to leave her all alone.”
Natasha is the one to speak next, the stress in her voice palpable. “Peggy, this isn’t the time for games. You’ve taken a top-level scientist who has access to numerous trade secrets and has clearance to the top level of our security. She knows things less than twenty people in the world know. We’ll admit you have the upper hand, just tell us what you want in exchange for her and we’ll give it to you.”
Peggy hmms, tapping her foot against the floor. They all stare at her, watching her every movement on the screen. It’s…infuriating. If they cared about you so much, if you were so valuable to them why did they spend your entire career treating you like shit.
You step out from the sideline, crowding the camera in front of Peggy.
“Glad to see you’re okay,” Bruce says. If you could kill him with just a look, you’d twist your face into whatever expression it took to send him six feet under.
“What’s my name?” you ask, staring at all of them.
Steve’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t speak. Tony rolls his eyes ever so slightly.
Tears prick at your eyes; rage you’ve suppressed ever since you were seventeen and applying for colleges bubbling to the surface. “I’ve worked for you for years - you paid for my second doctorate and own my research. I represent Stark Industries at every conference I-”
Bruce sighs. “We have a lot of scientists-”
“I went to your daughter’s birthday party! Our names are on a patent together!” You choke back a sob and ball your hands into fists. “I spent years of my stupid little life working my ass off for you people and you don’t even know my name?”
Tony’s the next one to speak. “What do you want us to say? Sorry? We deal with a lot in our day-to-day lives, you know. I can’t be memorizing the name of every intern who gets promoted.”
White-hot anger explodes inside of you like fireworks, pushing you to walk in front of the Captain. “Goodbye, Stark. Take this as my resignation.”
He opens his mouth to speak – likely to defend himself – but you hear none of it as you end the video call. The screen goes back to Peggy’s wallpaper – a dark blue background and one or two icons – and you feel just as empty as the screen in front of you.
You’re the first to talk, your heart slamming against your ribs like a car skidding off of a highway. All you can do is talk, trying to get this part of your life over with as soon as possible.
“So,” you can hear the nervous breathlessness in your throat. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Peggy just smiles, something you’ve come to understand is a harbinger of chaos.
“Come on, we’ll go to my real office and we’ll find something for you to do while you figure out you’re next steps.”
You’re speechless, your entire life very suddenly turned upside down, flipped inside out, and buried six feet underground. It’s easy to follow you when you’re so disoriented, letting her guide you through long, twisting hallways lined with identical doors. When she finally opens one, it’s as if she picked it at random. There, in a room larger than your apartment, is the most exquisitely decorate office you’ve ever seen. You don’t have much time to look around, though, because on her large oak desk is a charcuterie board so big you’re convinced you’re hallucinating from hunger.
Peggy slides past you, sitting in the dark, velvet-lined chair on one side of the desk. Grabbing one of the small plates, she fills it with meats, cheeses, fruits, and crackers that you can smell all the way from the other side of the room. Your mouth is watering, and before you know it you’re having to wipe the drool away from your chin.
“Come, darling,” she commands. “Come here, I don’t need guests starving in my home.”
It’s easy to follow orders from her, going to sit in the equally large, plush chair before making your own plate. Upon closer inspection, some of the crackers are fresh-baked bread, with butter and jams and spreads whose names you probably can’t pronounce. You eat, just as she does, picking the fat and juices from your fingers as if you were a bear at the beginning of salmon season.
It’s easy to be bold when your belly is full, the board picked over and pushed to the side. Gluttony fills you, emboldening you in ways that were unimaginable a few hours ago. Still, you avoid eye contact as you speak.
“Why do you want to destroy the Avengers, then?”
Peggy just shrugs, taking another bite of her food. You wait, anxiously, as she chews and swallows with the intention of someone accustomed to the finer things in life. “I find them deeply annoying, and I figured you’d agree with me.”
Can’t argue with that one.
“More specifically,” Peggy continues, sighing as if the mention of the Avengers gives her the beginnings of a migraine. “I think they’re awful, and they actively make the world much, much worse.”
You’re not skeptical…certainly, the Avengers made your life worse. But you still furrow your brow as she continues.
“I know I sound like one of those…” she waves her hand dismissively. “Reddit conspiracy theorists, or whatever stupid website the most radioactive scum of society has infected with their drivel. But…”
You lift your eyes from the floor, her face softening just a little when you lock gazes with her.
“I need you to understand the Avengers aren’t what they seem.”
You snort just a bit, unable to hide your reaction. Don’t need to tell me that, you think.
“They’re part of the current world order,” she explains. “They’re not heroes, they’re not outliers – they’re puppets. They’re not heroes, they’re ways to placate the public into accepting whatever new horrors the government can cook up. You know, they can fix everything, they can solve poverty and terrorism and end all wars and all that shit. But it makes them a lot more money to just act as if international law is real and destroy New York City every few years.”
Another part of your old life breaks apart as you process her words. She’s right – of course she is, why wouldn’t she be? It’s not as if any of this wasn’t obvious before, either, as if you weren’t contributing to their heroic façade by giving them your research and letting them parade you in front of reporters whenever Stark R&D made a major breakthrough in their labs.
Peggy seems to sense your worldview breaking down and rebuilding itself, notices the ways your hands fidget in your lap. “Oh, darling,” she sighs, a butler appearing out of seemingly nowhere to take the plates and food away. In the empty space it leaves she places a thick stack of papers, ones you don’t understand through your watery eyes. “Here, let’s get you busy so you don’t have to think about all that anymore.”
She explains the pile slowly, dividing up the tasks so that you can work in silence together.
The activities are simple, easy to understand and emulate. She’s just having you forge checks in silence as she goes over the credit card bills of her estate, making sure the itemized bills match the actual prices. You work for awhile, silent besides the scrape of pen and highlighter against pencil. It’s nice, working with no pressure.
“Have you thought about what you want to do next?” Peggy asks, ushering her words between swift flicks of her wrist.
You shake your head. “No more than I’ve thought about what just occurred.”
She shrugs. “Well, you can stay with me, if you like. I have numerous helpers who can grab anything you need from your apartment and bring it here,” you wrinkle your nose at the memory of the food in your fridge. You’re not sure how long you were out, but it's definitely spoiled by now. “If you don’t, I have plenty of money and we can get you all set up in a separate room.”
You cross your arms over your chest again. “Live here? What would I-“
Peggy just shrugs. Any movement from her is enough to cut you off effectively. “Listen, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. If you want, now, you can leave and go back to Stark Industries-“
You bristle at the mention of your old job.
“Because I know that’s the only place that will hire you. You’ve been working at Stark’s labs for how long? And have how many publications where your name isn’t obscured by et al?”
Zero, you reply internally. Your resume almost looks worse than it did when you entered graduate school.
“So, your options are simple,” she continues. “You are welcome to stay with me where you’ll never have to worry about money again, and I’ll keep you busy with various jobs that’ll challenge you when you want and are easy when you wish, or you can go back out into the world and try your luck with a job market pushing publish or perish in a world where you’re essentially in career rigor mortis.”
You try to find reasons to scream at her, to protest, or fight for your right to go back home. But all you can do is swallow tears that threaten to fall down your cheeks.
It takes a long while before you can speak, the words barely audible. Peggy stays sitting upright the whole time, her eyes bearing into yours.
It makes you stop your nervous fidgeting, your hands stuck in midair and your mouth agape ever so slightly. “I…uh…”
“You don’t have to accept my proposal,” she tells you, as if she’s just offered to buy out a company or offer to dog-sit for you while you’re on vacation. It’s casual, flat. “But I want you to know I find you incredibly attractive, and it can be quite lonely inside my little lair. So, if you’d like to stay…”
Blood rushes to your ears, your heart ramming against your ribcage.
“Wh-“
She cuts you off before you can ramble, before you can protest or lose your mind or scream until your throat bleeds.
“Listen, we can talk about the specifics later. But know you can stay here if you’d like.”
You try and swallow the toad in your throat. It remains firmly on its lily pad. “Do…do I have to decide now?”
Peggy just shakes her head. “No, dear. You can take all the time in the world.”
You fully intend to, too. Your life is now free of worry, of the Avengers and all the bullshit that came with it. It’s certainly strange, this newfound freedom.
“It’s weird, my whole life was that job,” you pause to sign the check in front of you, copying the signature next to it. Peggy inspects your work – a look of surprise washing over her when she realizes it’s an exact copy. “I had a side gig in high school faking everything under the sun.”
Peggy hmms but doesn’t say anything else.
“Like, I worked twelve-hour days constantly, I missed weddings and funerals and girls’ night outs,” you sigh, copying over more signatures. “I forfeited entire sections of my life for…I don’t even know…”
The woman next to you just grabs a series of envelopes and gloves and drops them in front of you. The sound has you shooting upright, catching you in the magnetic pull of her gaze.
Peggy’s eye contact is unwavering as she speaks. “What did you do to like, relax?”
You’re the one to break away first, staring at a bit of the patterned wallpaper instead of her. “I didn’t. I worked.”
“Nothing?” She only sounds a little surprised.
“I had a treadmill in my office,” you wrinkle your nose at the memory, how bad your calves hurt after receiving comments back from the peer-reviewers from one article you’d been working on for years.
“No guys…girls…” Peggy changes tasks, using one of those bingo dopplers filled with water to seal the envelope before placing it to the side. You watch as her hands grab the cylindrical tool, her blood-red, long sharpened nails a heavy contrast to the white marble of the table. “Nothing of the sort? At all?”
You shake your head. “Barely had time to swipe on Tinder, let alone actually date.”
“That’s a shame,” she says – it seems, more to herself than to you. “Because I think you’re the most fuckable little thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
If you were drinking something you’re sure you’d be choking on it, your whole body confused as to what was just said to you.
“You heard me. Do you want to fuck me, darling?” She presses, pushing herself forward across the desk. You remain silent, eyes wide and whole body frozen. “Or would you prefer it if I fucked you?”
When you don’t answer, she moves what you were working on to the side, jumping over the desk so that you have to look up at her where she sits.
“Answer me,” she says, her voice slightly harsher and eyes narrowed.
“I, I-“ You can feel your body heat up in embarrassment. “I want you to fuck me.”
All she does is smile before she’s grabbing your hand without so much as a “follow me,” leading you through another maze of hallways until you somehow find yourself in the most impeccably decorated, perfectly clean bedroom you’ve ever seen. It’s somehow more disorienting this time around – being ushered through her mansion without preamble or explanation. Peggy instructs you to wait on the bed as she disappears into what you guess is a closet, a command you follow easily as breathing.  
That seems to stop, though, when she emerges undressed except her underwear – a pale, skin-toned brassier, panty, and garters. It’s classic, obviously vintage…and it fits her perfectly. Tailored to hug against her curves and fit perfectly against her milky skin. She looks like a goddess, really, like Venus emerging from her shell. Your eyes follow the outline of her form, desperate to commit the scene to memory despite how it’s failed you in the past.
That’s when you see it, dangling off one crooked finger. A royal blue strap made of a thin, supple leather. Attached to that is a shiny black dildo, girthy and slightly curved at the end.
It takes everything in you to remember how to breathe in that moment, to not let yourself pass out from her taking all the air from your lungs and flattening them under her heel. Speaking of which – she’s still wearing her navy-blue heels.
Our God in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…
You understand why Jesus wept as she steps toward you, a confidence in the air that has the heat in your abdomen growing rapidly. It’s like a wildfire during the dry season – overtaking your body and soul so rapidly you feel as if you’ve lost all control.
And God...you love it. It’s as if you can feel the adrenaline in your teeth, on top of your tongue. It fills your senses with molten gold that singes you in all the right places. It sparks something inside of you, something you haven’t felt for ages.
“You’re adorable like this,” Peggy murmurs as she moves closer, standing over you.
You stutter out a response. “L-like what?”  
She smiles the same wicked smile you saw earlier. “Flustered, surprised, awed, horny. Take your pick.”
You blink widely, eyes glassed over.
“Are you a virgin, dear?”
She asks it like she’s asking whether you take cream in your coffee, her plain tone a contrast to her actions as she fits the strap to her hips. Her actions are smooth, practiced. You suddenly feel very insecure.
“No,” you reply honestly. “But I’m not very experienced.”
“Hm,” is all she says. It feels like a long while before she speaks again, stepping close to you and grabbing your chin so that she looks at you. “You’re so cute. Strip for me.”
The clothes that you were placed in while drugged peel easily from your body – the nondescript hoodie and sweatpants dropping to reveal your vulnerable form. She steps forward silently, running her hands over the softest and most vulnerable parts of you.
“Beautiful,” she whispers. You can barely hear it, but another wave of heat flashes across your skin as she continues to stare. It makes you feel like a painting, or a statue recently unveiled in some large art museum. All eyes on you, dissecting you and putting you back together again. It makes you feel more naked than all the skin exposed to the cold bedroom air. She pushes you back, then, until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you’re fanned out in the middle of it. She spreads your legs without preamble, ghosting her fingers over the wettened lips.
“Such a pretty little pussy,” Peggy says, watching as you react to her light touches. “She’s so sensitive for me, isn’t she? Pretty pussies like this deserve to be ruined.”
She pulls you close to her on the last word, folding you in half so that the most sensitive parts of you are exposed to her. It’s so sudden you barely have time to give a little yelp, one that transforms into a moan as she enters you.
It stretches you deliciously, a wonderful and welcome burn you can barely describe. None of the times you’d ever used toys on yourself had ever felt this way, let alone all the unfortunate one-night stands you’d had. You’d convinced yourself sex just…wasn’t enjoyable, that Big Porn had sold you a dream you could never truly have.
That’s bullshit, you tell yourself as Peggy draws a deep, animalistic moan from you. All those guys who came within minutes, spewing all over your stomach before rolling over and snoring so loud you thought it would register on the Richter scale. All those shitty dudes you brought home from clubs and conferences. All the gross men you let push you to your knees in alleyways. They all sold you the same bullshit story.
Peggy, as she splits you open, holding your legs apart – she’s the only one to ever tell you the truth. The whole truth. Not some mangled version that forces you to wear rose-colored glasses. No, she tells you everything. And that honesty is more refreshing than ice-cold lemonade on a summer day.
(Visions of licking the condensation from her fingers, of tracing your tongue between her breasts as stray droplets sink down her shirt flash in front of your eyes. You’re determined to make it through the cold New York winter to be there when it begins to warm up.)
“How does it feel, baby?” she coos, watching you in your blissed out state. She knows what she’s doing – she has to – because the fake pity in her voice only grows as she watches you struggle. “C’mon, darling, tell me how it feels to be fucked by someone who really knows what they’re doing.
Your moans turn into something like squeaks as she readjusts her hips, the angle sending the toy deeper. She hits something inside of you – something you’ve never felt before. If you were feeling like you were lit ablaze before, now you’re the fire itself. Reborn in the flames and running uphill like a feral stallion, weaving through trees and ignoring the pain as your hoof catches on a fallen branch.
It's chasing something – you’re not entirely sure exactly what it is, what it wants so desperately as its lungs cry for air. All you know is that you’re chasing pleasure, your hips rising to meet Peggy’s thrusts as she fucks into you at a steady, bruising pace.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” Peggy whispers, the awe in her voice sending another wave of arousal through you. “Knew from the first day I saw you you’d be the best decision I’d ever make.”
You preen under her, a protesting whine rising high in your throat. “F-fuck,” is all you can get out.
The dildo is smooth inside of you, your desperate attempts to grip it inside of you failing as she thrusts in and out. “So glad I was able to save you from that horrible place, from those horrible people.”
You nod in a frantic way, low murmurs and babbles leaving your lips without consideration for what you’re trying to say. Truthfully, you’re not sure you’re saying anything, unable to speak in your current state.
“C’mon, say thank you,” she hisses, grabbing your chin so that you’re forced to look at her. “Thank me for saving you.”
You’re panting now, digging your hands into the sheets and gripping them so hard you’re convinced you’re cutting off circulation to your fingers. Still, somehow, you get the words out. “T-thank y-you for saving me.”
Peggy grins, snapping her hips so that the toy goes even further inside of you. “Good, my darling.”
She’s said it before, but now it feels even dirtier – and you’re not sure if it’s because she’s fucking you into another dimension.
“Oh, god,” you moan, the wet sounds of your pussy ringing throughout the room. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet, even when you lived near that sex shop in college that was located in the basement of a resale book shop. It’s not disgusting, though, this new side of you is hot. And you’re beginning to learn to revel in it.
“C’mon, baby,” she coos, fucking you in sharp, hard thrusts. “Come for me.”
And, Heavens above, you do. It feels like a wave crashing upon the shore – a tsunami claiming countless lives and causing millions in damage. It shocks the air from your lunch, chokes you from the inside-out. More accurately, it turns you inside out, burning away the old you so that the new you can rise from the ashes more brazen and bold than before.
You’re sure your moans can be heard for miles around the property – guttural and animalistic and scratching at your throat to get out. Peggy fucks you through it, timing her thrusts to the clench of your cunt until you’re kicking her away. Only then does she pull away, peppering kisses over your temple and disappearing with the promise of water and to clean you up.
You lay there in the center of the bed, panting as if you’d just run a marathon. You’re not sure where it comes from, but a cool breeze hits you and it feels better than anything else you could’ve wanted.  
Peggy re-emerges from what you guess is the bathroom, dressed now only in a silken nightgown with matching lace trim. It’s white, lacking any stains. Ironed, too, so that there are creases at the side.
In one hand she has a damp, fluffy washcloth. In the other, a cup of what you’re guessing is ice water – judging by the condensation. Does she have a fridge in there? A kitchen?
You don’t have much time to try and understand the layout of the parts of her…mansion? Cave? Underwater lair? Because she’s crawling into bed beside you.
“Sit up, darling,” she waits for you to adjust yourself, laying against the headboard with one pillow at the base of your spine. “Can’t have you becoming dehydrated, now can we?”
You take the mug from her, clutching it with both hands as she nudges your legs apart. Quietly, you sip at the cold water as she wipes down your center. The cloth is soft, softer than imagined any washcloth could be. It rubs against the most sensitive part of you and has you gasping ever-so-slightly.
“I know, my darling” Peggy coos. “I know, don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. I promise.”
It’s hard not to just whine the whole time, whimpering as she cleans you and wipes the sweat from your brow.  She stops, eventually, when she decides there’s nothing else left to cleanse from you. When the washcloth is discarded into the dirty laundry bin and the empty mug is placed on the nightstand, she crawls into bed right beside you.
It’s easy to fall asleep against her, with her steady heartbeat and soft breasts. She holds you, too, wraps her arms around you presses kisses to the top of your head every so often. You haven’t been this comfortable in…truly, you can’t remember the last time sleep didn’t overtake you like a tsunami, instead of this slow, gradual pace that has your eyelids feeling heavy in a way that doesn’t make you want to cry. Is this how everyone else has been sleeping? Is this why the rest of world talks about how much they love naps and sleeping and going to bed?
You cling to Peggy, thumbing at the silky fabric of her nightgown and burrowing into her chest. She laughs lightly, in that beautiful way, as she pulls the heavy comforter over you and kisses the top of your head. “Go to sleep, darling. We have a lot to go over tomorrow, but for now, just go to sleep.”
It’s hard not to with her assurance, beautiful unconsciousness waving over you slowly but surely. It’s then that you hear is the sound of the door opening, and Peggy readjusting.
A whine rises high in your throat at being jostled, and she immediately goes to calm you. “Sh, my darling, don’t worry. It’s just my new butler bringing me the tea I asked for earlier. I wanted to test his timing.”
You hmphf, moving ever so slightly until you’re nice and comfortable again. The last thing you hear is the distinct sound of Knox’s collar jingling back and forth as if he’s being pet.
372 notes · View notes
bigbadripley · 1 year
Note
hi could you do one where reader and steve are together and some kind of multiversal rift happens that causes captain carter to show up and reader starts to pine for peggy as well as steve, and steve obv still has a thing for the peggy he knew, and peggy still has a thing for the steve she knew, but also reader, so they do a threesome k thanks bye
Moments Stolen Taste Better
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader x Captain!Peggy Carter | 18+ Minors DNI!!  ⚠️
Warnings: Dom!Steve and Dom!Peggy, mention of stillbirth (idk it just gets brought up in the plot), reader has a mombod (we love it), voyeurism, thoughts of cheating, threesome, unprotected p in v
Words: 3.4K Words
Title based on "Used" by SZA ft. Don Toliver
A/N:  You are responsible for your own consumption. DL;DR. As always, if you find anything that needs to have a warning or I mislabeled something, please let me know~
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"Babe? Have you seen my screw box?" You yelled through the house. After looking through the garage and not finding the Altoid tin where you kept your oddball screws, it was time to face that your boyfriend likely took it. "Babe!" You yelled out once more, not getting a response the first time. 
As you entered the kitchen, you saw him quickly chewing a bite of the sandwich he held, leaning against the countertop comfortably. You saved for a moment, waiting for him to swallow before he could respond.
"Should be in the n-" Steve cut himself off, "-Second room." He corrected. He knew you told him already that he could call it the nursery and that it wasn't some word that shouldn't be spoken. It was the second room until you got pregnant, then the nursery. Since the pregnancy failure, it's become a dusty baby furniture storage room.
It had been months, and you and Steve had time to heal from it, but he still tended to call the room by its former name. At first, it hurt, but now it doesn't, and Steve still corrects himself when he catches it. You began to wonder if he was doing it for your sake or his. 
You enter the small, pale yellow room and avoid looking directly at the bassinet, which makes your heart ache. Steve was correct: the screw box was on the changing station. As you pick it up, memories of decorating the room flood your mind, causing you to turn around and immediately exit, closing the door behind you. 
Gotta sort that out one day. You thought. Today is not that day. 
Before you go back through the garage door, you hear a crashing sound and smell something burning from the other side. Thinking it might have been a small battery explosion, you rush through the door to grab the fire extinguisher to the right. 
Beyond the smokiness, there was no fire or sparks but a figure on the ground. You weren't sure how they got there or who they were, but your first instinct was to put the extinguisher back and rush to see if they were okay. You were able to make out long dark hair, red lips, and-
It's a woman! You thought.
"Steve!" You yelled out in a panic, trying to get his help to pick up the unconscious woman. The blanket of fog began to disperse little by little, and you started to recognize her as-
"Peggy?" Steve said as soon as he spotted her. The girl he keeps in his compass. The one he left behind when he went in the ice. The only problem was that he never mentioned how tall and strong she looked.
Steve took one arm, and you attempted to grab the other before he picked her up entirely to bring her into the house. Given your size, you likely would not have been of much assistance anyway in lifting her.
Once Peggy was on the couch, you could get a better look at her. She was even more captivating than the photo you knew her from, and even more, interestingly, she wore a suit that was a near-replica of Steve's, the only exception being the Union Jack over the chest. 
"This isn't the same Peggy I knew," Steve piped up, crossing his arms. He seemed suspicious of her, but you felt the need to help regardless. You rushed to get a cold washcloth and placed it on her sleeping forehead, figuring the cooling would prompt her awake quicker after whatever tumble she took. 
Sure enough, after staying next to her for nearly ten minutes, Peggy began to wake. Her big brown eyes darted around the room before landing on you, filling with confusion. 
"Where am I?" She asked, sitting up and letting the rag fall from her head to the floor. Her accent floated through the air as her heavy boots clunked when she dropped them from the couch. You told her your name and explained that you found her in your garage, and she listened like it wasn't as strange to her as it was to you. "So, what Earth am I on?" She asked nonchalantly. You raised your eyebrows,
"Uh... I didn't realize they were classified in any way. I know someone I can ask who may know, but-"
"Strange is busy. I already spoke to him on the phone." Steven interrupted you as he walked back in from the garage. The second Peggy spotted him, she was awestruck, flicking her eyes up and down his form. 
"Oh, you're not my Steve." She said. You gathered that the Steve she knew was likely much smaller, and given her reaction, you couldn't help but feel a bit jealous, but couldn't tell if you were more jealous of her or Steve. You watched her gaze return to you, then to Steve, as the gears turned in her head until she connected the dots. "I suppose he'd be your Steve, yeah?"
"Well, yes, he is." You answered, trying not to say it awkwardly. You were not a stranger to being attracted to women, but since you and Steve got together, your eyes never strayed. 
Until you met Peggy Carter. 
"It was Stephen Strange that I needed to see." Peggy circled back to the previous topic. "But even if he could help me, my Travelmaster seems to be broken." 
You realized she was talking about the device on her wrist that looked like a smartwatch. The face of it was cracked and chipped, likely from whatever knocked her into your garage. "Can I see?" You asked, holding your hand out. 
Peggy nodded and took the device off, placing it into your hand. Your fingers grazed hers in a cheesy rom-com fashion, and you felt electricity for a moment, which could have been the Travelmaster. You examined it momentarily, realizing it would be a piece of cake to fix. "I can take care of this thing, but it may take a few days."
"That would be lovely!" Peggy exclaimed, more hopeful now that you could be of assistance. Her joy made your heart nearly collapse, and you sat the device on your knee to discretely wipe your clammy hands on your jeans. 
After a bit of back and forth about where Peggy came from, how she got here, and how in her timeline, she was the one who took the serum, thus becoming Captain Carter, you offered her a place to stay while you fixed her Travelmaster, and she accepted. 
The first day with your new guest was interesting, to say the least. You gave her some of your more loose-fitting clothes to wear to account for her larger build, and even then, they were still a bit tight on her. You weren't complaining as you silently enjoyed the view of Peggy in your sweatpants and Iron Maiden t-shirt that wasn't cropped on you but exposed a bit of midriff on her.
It's like if I let Jen wear my clothes, and then she hulked out. You thought upon seeing her in them. Only Jennifer was your best friend, and you weren't attracted to her like you were to Peggy. 
The biting jealousy came when she and Steve talked about the similarities in their times. They sipped coffee and laughed as you listened in, trying not to blatantly eavesdrop and being unable to help yourself. 
"The Travelmaster probably brought me here because I was thinking about how it must be fixed right before it shorted out," Peggy said. You stood and poked your head through the doorway, 
"Why would it take you here if that were the case?"
"Because you invented it in my time." She said, glancing at you as the cup made it to her perfect lips. God, how you envied that ceramic mug before what she said registered in your mind. You were an inventor, having been under the wing of Tony for some time, but you never invented anything as insane as a multiversal travel device. 
"I'm not surprised. My gal's a genius." Steve spoke up, mentioning you like you weren't there purposely and speaking to Peggy as if she were an old poker buddy. His eyes drifted over to where you were, and you passed him a wink that was more telling than anything you would have been able to say then. 
Oh yeah, he's getting his dick sucked later. You thought before your mind pictured it, but instead of you doing it, you pictured Peggy doing it. The visual caused the jealousy to linger again, and even worse, you had to adjust in your rolly chair at how aroused it made you. 
"Shit." You whispered, pinching the bridge of your nose at how absurd the thought was. It simply wouldn't work. 
Another day passed, and the atmosphere between you and Peggy was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You couldn't tell if it was just you or if Peggy felt the same and decided to hide it out of respect. On the flip side, you knew Steve was also delighted to have her around. 
The night before, Steve had you bent over the footboard of your bed, and your thoughts began to linger again. You loved your man, and he never failed to get you off, but when the image of looking back and seeing Peggy railing you with a strap-on popped into your head, you came harder and faster than you had in a long time.
It was challenging to look at her after that shameful thought. You could tell she noticed your awkwardness, and this frightened you. 
I got the hots for the woman sleeping on my fucking couch. What a nightmare. 
When you saw Peggy in the hallway on your way out of the bathroom, you tried to pass her by without yielding until she spoke to you first. 
"What's that room used for?" She asked, pointing to the room you avoided. 
"Uh, that was the nursery." You admitted, rocking back and forth on your heels. 
"Nursery? I-" She stopped herself, realizing the lack of children and the look on your face.
Probably noticed the extra baby weight and nothing to show for it, too. You thought before she picked her sentence up again. 
 "Oh, dear lord, I'm so sorry. How far along were you, if you don't mind?"
"Seven months. It's fine, really. Some things happen for a reason, you know?" You replied, trying to brush it off. Peggy pursed her lips and cocked her head,
"I guess that's also a good way to look at my being here."
"Look, I know this must be really strange, seeing Steve and..." You trail off, not sure where you're going with this, yourself. You just wanted to open a dialogue and hopefully make yourself feel less nuts. Peggy let out a small laugh,
"Believe me, it has been bizarre, but it's not what you think. If my Steve came out of the war to find someone like you, he's one lucky son of a gun." 
You stood paralyzed as the words floated through the air. Peggy looked down at you the way she usually did, causing your heart to thump as adrenaline washed over you. She was incredible, and her words only amplified your desire for her. 
"Fucking hell." You gasp as you finally catch your breath. The words fell out clumsily, and Peggy eyed you with confusion. 
"You alright?"
"Yeah, just losing my mind at how perfect you are." You admit, then immediately regret the words as her eyes widen at you. "Shit, I'm sorry." 
"You know, I've been quite irresponsible since my arrival. I neglected to tell you," Peggy started, stepping forward slowly. Her movements felt like a magnetic repulsion, causing you to back up as she approached until your shoulders and butt met the cold wall behind you. "I've watched you get involved with people who have no idea how to treat you, time and time again."
Your breath hitched as your back hugged the wall tighter, stuck between it and the buff woman pressed to your chest. "Fucking hell." You repeated the same way you said before, convinced you would die if she were any closer. The right corner of her mouth curled up at your breathlessness, toying with you. 
"Though I'm happy that you found Steve in this life," She leaned her face closer to yours, almost close enough to brush noses. "I still can't forget the sounds you make."
A small, pathetic whimper escapes your throat, betraying you as you feel yourself receding into the drywall. 
"Sounds like that, actually." She whispered. Her dark hair covered your peripheral vision, making her brown eyes the only thing you could focus on. You were in agony, realizing she was telling you that, in her time, she fucked you. Your mind raced through how it went, what she tasted like, how her tongue felt on your pussy. 
You felt hot and flustered. Having been with Steve for so long, you forgot what being pursued by someone new was like. There were so many things you wanted to say and do, but you felt like you were glued where you stood and couldn't find enough oxygen to speak appropriately. It felt like Peggy wanted to break you. 
As if the universe was trying to tell you to get out of that hold Peggy had you in, you heard the front door open, and footsteps proceeded through it. "How does macaroni casserole sound for dinner?" Steve called out as he entered. 
"Fucking hell." You groaned quietly with frustration from being cut off. Peggy loosed the distance between you for you to slip out and get to Steve. As soon as you turned the corner to the kitchen, where he was putting away the groceries, guilt washed over you. The thought of cheating on him was devastating, yet you had been doing it in your head for days now. "Mac casserole? Sounds good, baby." You finally answered his question as you came up and wrapped your arms around him from behind. 
You assisted with putting the food away and scampered off to the shower, hoping to rinse out the feeling of Peggy being pushed against you. All that was accomplished was more racing thoughts in the steam that caused you to turn on the high-pressure stream setting on the shower head and let the water rush against your clit, imagining it was her mouth. 
I still can't forget the sounds you make.
Her voice had a vice grip on your brain, repeatedly replaying like a Jedi mind trick. Your muscles jerked as the water drew an intense orgasm from you that nearly knocked you to the shower floor. A single high-pitched sigh punched from your gut as you heard the bathroom door open. 
"Did you trip?" Steve asked, responding to the thumping of your hands and feet and the sound you made. In a panic, you found it hard to lie on the spot. 
"No, I... uh..." You choked, slowly bringing the showerhead back up to the metal arm that held it over your head. Beyond the frosted glass that separated the rest of the bathroom from the tub, you could make out Steve's shape and the color of his hair, skin, and shirt, but no details. You did, however, hear a faint chuckle. 
"Playing with yourself in the shower is dangerous, baby. Why don't you come out, and I'll take care of you." He said, blurry form growing closer to the glass. It drives you insane when he talks like that. 
Yet, you imagined Peggy saying it to you also, English accent, nearly knocking you off balance again. You felt like an addict, looking for a fix for something you've never had before. 
You could see him more detailed beyond the glass now, but you could make out something else just behind him now. Another tall and wide stature, long, dark hair. Before you could respond, Steve pulled the door open to reveal himself and Peggy, who leaned against the bathroom wall and admired your drenched nakedness. You didn't bother hiding from either of them as the woman parted her lips to speak.
"Dry off and meet us in the bedroom. The three of us need to have a chat." 
Once sufficiently dried off, you exited the bathroom with the towel wrapped around you, tucked under your arms like a terry cloth dress. You felt indescribably anxious and fearful of what they might have discussed to cause this meeting.
Steve and Peggy stood with their arms crossed on either side of you, staring with amused faces. 
"Drop the towel and have a seat on the bed, baby," Steve said, gesturing to the mattress the two of you shared. Your eyes widened, and you immediately turned your attention to Peggy, then back to your boyfriend. 
"Steve, I-"
"Do as he says." Peggy interrupts in a much more commanding tone. Were you terrified? Yes. But her stern tone nearly caused your knees to buckle simultaneously. You allowed the towel to fall to your feet as you slowly and shakily took the few steps to the bed before pivoting and meeting your butt to the comforter. 
They eyed you up and down as they circled you like a couple of vultures. You had become a spectacle. 
"She's gorgeous, ain't she?" Steve asked Peggy, who nodded. 
"Quite. Her thighs and bum are a bit thicker than the one from my Earth, but I find it fetching." She replied, not pulling her gaze from you for even a second. Steve chortled at this,
"I tried to tell ya, my baby girl's special." 
"What exactly's going on here?" You finally speak weakly, your voice cracking as thick saliva pools in your throat. You gulp before Steve responds. 
"Peggy told me everything. How she slept with you in her time, the moment you had in the hallway earlier-"
"And we've decided that we would both have our way with you." Peggy finished his sentence perfectly. Your jaw dropped at the proposition, and you began to question if you really did fall in the shower and this was all some concussion dream. Either way, the ache and gathering wetness between your thighs felt real enough. "Lay back," Peggy said in the same commanding tone as before, prompting you to follow suit. 
As Steve lazed around to the other side of the bed, Peggy pulled your legs apart at your knees to get an eyeful of your dripping heat. "Such a pretty pussy." She complimented, nearly making you blush all over. It felt like you might pass out under them until Peggy inserted her thick middle finger into your entrance. Steve stood and watched with delight, palming himself over his jeans. 
"Tell her how tight she is. She loves that." He instructed, giving away your secrets. Her finger dipped in and out, grazing your soft spot with each curl of her knuckle, making you whine. 
"Very tight, darling. Mind if I have a taste?" Peggy asked, directing the question to Steve. He gestured to you with his free hand and nodded,
"Have at it. That pussy is sweet like honey."
You watched from downturned eyes as Peggy dropped to her knees and began lapping your clit right away, swirling her tongue over it like hard candy and humming with pleasure as involuntary noises left your lips. Your eyes began to roll upward and look at Steve, stroking his cock with one hand and caressing your head with the other. 
"You like how Peggy eats your pussy, baby girl?" He asked. "Tell me how it feels."
"Feel's good." You said breathlessly as her finger continued to pump into you while her mouth manipulated you closer to your climax. The view of Steve pleasuring himself while watching and talking to you was enough to push you over the edge. 
"Cum all over her fingers, baby. Go ahead." He growled, having you nearly trained to release at his will. Your ads tightened, and you arched your back off the mattress as satisfaction ripped through your veins. Peggy continued to fuck you with her fingers, prolonging your orgasm for as long as she could, causing you to cry out. 
"Tell Captain Rogers thank you for letting me lick your pussy." Peggy demanded as she got to her feet. 
"T-thank you, Steve." You stuttered, watching Peggy come to the side of the bed that he was on. 
"I'd say she's ready for you," Peggy informed Steve with a nod before he circled to the side of the bed you hung from. She started removing the too-tight track pants she borrowed from you and climbing onto the bed, one knee after another. You found yourself excited over the prospect of her sitting on your face, aroused again without much time to rest. 
"You treat Captain Carter real nice, now." Steve sang as you felt the tip of his cock rub through your folds. Another whimper pushed through your throat as it came into contact with your sensitive nub, and Peggy smiled beautifully at you. 
"Love that sound. I wanna hear that as he fucks you, understood?" She said, turning around to give you the best view of your Scream t-shirt that showed a peek of her tummy and contoured her breasts. Before you could voice a reply, your mouth was covered by her moist cunt, prompting you to open your mouth and start exploring. "You were right, Cap. She is a good girl." Peggy said with a shaky voice as you began to trace the alphabet over her bundle with your tongue. 
Another weak gasp escaped as Steve's cock pushed into you, fully bottoming out as always and making you crumble with slow, rhythmic thrusts to start. 
"So tight, baby." Steve groaned, picking up the pace and placing his palm over your stomach. The added pressure and his rutting against your g-spot caused a long moan, nearly making you lose your pattern on Peggy's clit. She stared down at you as she gyrated her hips and rode your face. 
"Don't sto-op." Her accent rang through the air, causing you to flick your tongue faster. You have no intention of stopping, eager for her to cum in your mouth. Just the thought of it caused another climax to build inside of you. It was just as you pictured it. 
Steve continued to fuck you harder, fingertips digging into the plush of your hips and thighs, feeling you grow closer to release. "Fuck, baby, I wanna feel you cum on my cock. Cum for me." 
Just like before, he spoke your orgasm forward. Your pussy quivered and gripped his cock as you moaned into Peggy's cunt, still vigorously testing the swollen nub to completion. The vibration of the sound you made as you came did it, and she followed with her own almost instantly, juices dripping onto your lips and chin while her muscular thighs closed over your ears.
Your pulsating pussy pushed Steve closer. "Gonna cum deep inside you, baby. Fuck, you feel so good." He rambled as Peggy removed herself from your face to hear your breathy moans. Steve gave one final, hard shove before his warmth filled you up, watching as Peggy wiped her wetness away from your chin with her thumb. 
Steve joined the two of you in the bed, laying sideways with legs dangling off the side, breathing heavily. "Did that make you happy?" He asked, caressing your thigh. You smiled and nodded in return at him and Peggy. It was exactly what you wanted for days. 
"Then, by all means, take your time fixing my Travelmaster." Peggy spoke up before bringing her perfectly soft lips to yours in a dreamy kiss. She didn't have to tell you twice. 
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omgopalsapphire · 1 year
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momentofch-aos · 2 months
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M's Marvel Thought of the Day
Daniel Sousa, now settled in the 21st century, looks up what happened to his friends from his own timeline.
Daisy had already gently broken the news about Peggy's death to him. They visited her grave site and talked about the adventures and missions the two had been on.
He read the case file on Howard and Maria Stark's death, the Winter Solider case and knowledge of who he was sending him for a loop. He'd met Sergeant Barnes once, that day when he thought he would die on the battle field. He had never been Howard's biggest fan but no one deserved that.
He read the obituaries of Ana and Edwin Jarvis, found they were buried in New York, side by side as they'd been in life. He left pink flowers - Ana's favourite colours of peonies - on their grave, and thanked them for their friendship and support.
There had been two people he'd been somewhat surprised to find out were still alive and unbelievably in the same old people's home in DC. He'd been unsure whether visiting would be a good idea but after some gentle investigating from Daisy and Mack, he found himself entering a rec room. There was various elderly people around, reading newspapers or napping in high backed armchairs. But no-one looked familiar. Daisy squeezed his hand before getting the attention of one of the nurses, who led them around the corner of the room.
As they make their approach when Daniel hears a far too familiar voice, making him stop in his tracks.
"Ha! Got you again Thompson, pay up!" Rose Roberts, with now grey hair but with the same thick glasses, smirked triumphantly across the top of the checkers board.
The older man across the table groaned. "We go through this every damn day Rose. Can we go back to Chess?" Daniel took in the older man he'd known a life time ago, hair still slicked back in the way it had always been. A cane leant against the wall behind him and he coughed after laughing at Rose's comeback.
"Chief Thompson? Agent Roberts?" The nurse asked drawing their attention. "You have some visitors."
Both former agents looked across to see Daniel standing with an indecipherable look on his face.
"Fucking hell..."
"What the hell..." Their voices overlapped suddenly.
"Hey Rose, hey Jack." Daniel said stepping forward. Rose struggled to her feet, using the table to leverage herself up.
"Chief? Is that really you?" Rose looked up at him, his arms coming up to help balance her.
"It's me. It's good to see you Rose." And he found himself engulfed in her arms, wrapping his back around her and holding her tight. "God it's good to see you Rose."
"How the hell are you here?" She said as she looked back up to him. "And who's the beautiful woman you brought with you?" She fixed him with that same mischievous look she used to shoot at him all the time after glancing to Daisy who stood off to the side. Always so invested in his love life, so he chuckled.
"I can explain everything I promise. Why don't we sit?" He helped her back to her chair, glancing across to Jack who had his hand's in fists on the other side of the table. "Hi Thompson."
"Who are you?" He demanded. "You're sure as hell not Daniel Sousa. He died in...55." He paused remembering the exact year. "We buried him. We... mourned him. You sure as hell aren't him."
"I can explain that I am Jack."
"I am 102, not stupid." Rose scoffed, making both men turn to her.
"Jack do be serious. What about Rogers? He came back to Peg did he not?"
"How can we be sure? It may be some traitor. Davey was telling me just the other day about those shape shifting aliens Fury was palling around with..." Jack started saying.
"How about this Jack? I'll prove it to you." The older man looked puzzled but let him continue. "Before you went to Russia with Carter, met the Howling Commandoes when we were investigating Stark. You tricked me in the locker room, into seeing Carter changing. You asked me to get your compass from..."
"Locker 42." Jack finished his sentence and looked Daniel up and down, his gaze resting on the prosthetic leg.
"I've still only got one leg but the future makes a better prosthetic than Stark by a mile." Daniel joked, and Jack stood at that, pulling Daniel into a hug that he was not expecting. "It's good to see you too Jack."
They sat back down, chairs pulled up for Daniel and Daisy, as they told the story of faking his death, and pulling him out of time. Of their adventures into space and the weird and wacky things he'd discovered in the 21st Century.
They told him stories from their own lives after his death, cases he'd missed out on, Howard's ridiculousness. Peggy's rise to power. The three old friends spoke fondly of her, recalling stories from throughout the time they spent with her.
Rose grilled him and Daisy on their story and relationship, telling Daisy all the embarrassing things that Daniel had been happy to leave behind in the 50's. The unlikely pair giggled and formed a friendship.
Rose told her stories of her first and second marriage, her daughter, son-in-law and grandson who would visit every weekend.
Jack had been married when Daniel died, to Peggy's lovely personal secretary Ruth who knew how to put him in his place. They'd only had a daughter the year or two before Daniel supposedly died. Jack talked about how they'd gone on to have three more daughters, now had 8 grandchildren, including a grandson who had joined SHIELD recently (Daniel promised to keep an eye out for him). Then, his Ruth had passed a few years ago and Daniel expressed his condolences.
At that moment, a young boy, probably 5-years-old barrelled into the room and to Jack's side. "Pops, Pops!"
"Hey there, Danny. How's my favourite guy?" With surprising strength for a man of his years, Jack swung the young man up till he was sat on his knee.
"I'm good! Momma's coming now." He pointed to where a pretty blonde was making her way across the room, shaking her head as she stooped to kiss Jack on the cheek and ruffle her son's head.
"Sorry Grandpa, the traffic was horrendous." She greeted Rose much the same way, passing her a package. "Fudge from that place on 4th for your Rose, Danny over there insisted." She turned to the guests who sat between them. "Hello, I'm Ruthy." She shook their hands.
"Ruthy, this is Daniel and Daisy. Daniel, Daisy, my granddaughter Ruthy and her son, Danny." Jack smirked at Sousa as his great-grandson played with the watch on his wrist.
"Danny? Huh." Was the only thing Daniel came up with as he watched an old friend acting like a goofy grandparent.
"Yeah, Grandpa had a friend called Daniel who saved his life a bunch of times when he was younger. Used to tell us stories all about Sousa and Carter and their adventures. We never believed him until we found out where he worked." Ruthy filled in nonchalantly, sitting on the opposite side of the table, digging through her bag to produce a water bottle for her son unaware of the look on Daniel's face. Jack smirked massively. "Here, Grandpa. I managed to grab that album from storage that you wanted." She handed across a large leather bound photo album to the older man, who flipped through a few pages.
"Here you go Daisy, you'll like this one." Jack smirked, that old charming smile creeping onto his face as he passed the now open book across to her, Daniel peering over her shoulder and scoffing.
"Woah." Ruth finally looked up, glancing at the photo and then back up to Daniel and back again. "Well. I cannot believe it took me that long. I knew you looked familiar. I thought it was just Quake that had me thinking that."
Daisy smirked. "You don't seem surprised?"
"Oh I've worked at Stark Industries for a long time, I'm so used to superheroes and weird tech not much surprises me anymore. You see Tony Stark walking round in Iron-Man pants one too many times and you get over stuff pretty quickly." She levelled Daniel with a look. "Time travel huh?"
"Yes. But I haven't seen these in literal years." He said his hand tapped a few photos. One from the first day of opening the first SHIELD base, Thompson and Howard Stark stood either side of Peggy and Daniel. Another of Peggy, Daniel and Rose throwing confetti at Jack's wedding. One of Daniel and Thompson with Peggy on her Wedding Day. An outtake of that one where Howard was attempting to jumping into frame and Jarvis dragging him out, while the three of them laughed lay below it.
He could still picture that party, he could hear the band playing, memories of Peggy dancing with Rogers, happy and content. He remembered how happy he was for her.
Daisy squeezed his knee beneath the table and brought him back to the present. He pressed a kiss to her temple and continued the conversation. They had coffee and cake and Rose shared her fudge. Daisy made lunch trolley roll across the room, making Jack's great-grandson shriek in delighted laughs and push it back into a position where she could do it again and again.
They left hours later and Daniel felt more settled than he had done in a long time. Daisy squeezed his hand as they drove away.
They'd return to visit every time they were in town, which was more often these days now SHIELD HQ was there, sometimes together, sometimes alone. They met all of both of their families, attended Ruth's 100th birthday. Brought presents for Daniel's namesake's birthday.
When Daisy and Daniel tied the knot, two reserved seats on the front row of the groom's side were filled my two of his oldest friends some of their families just a couple rows back. They 'snuck' them into new SHIELD HQ to see all the new tech and planes, the memorial wall that included people they'd known a lifetime ago.
Daniel loved the future, loved living his life alongside Daisy and her family. But knowing his friends were there, getting to spend time with them was an unexpected but valuable thing for him. It gave him a link to the past, someone to shoot the breeze with, with some similar experiences from the past. A taste of a previous life he was grateful for as he lived his new one.
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tremorsmackenzie · 8 months
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imagine if peggy had shown up at area 51 instead of sousa because of whatever. simmons wouldve just collapsed on the spot i think, and the interactions with may, daisy and elena wouldve just been great, imagine peggys reaction to seeing so many female agents as equals/superiors to their male colleagues...
oh no
now i want someone to write this
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