#They're both very happy to be married now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-cant-sing · 5 months

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I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.

No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.

Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.

Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.

Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).

The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"

And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.

You didn't like either nickname.

Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.

Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.

And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.

Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.

Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.

"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"

After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.

The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.

It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"

Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.

Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.

You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.

You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.

It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.

"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."

She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.

She died on the spot.

Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.

She wasn't a fucking Wayne.

If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.

But you didn't.

When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.

"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"

You sighed. Might as well get this over with.

You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.

"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."

Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"

"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."

"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.

"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.

"But I don't want you to move-"

You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"

Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.

"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"

Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"

"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.

They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.

He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.

Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.

"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.

"What now?"

"Where are you going?" Tim asked.

"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.

"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?

"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.

"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.

You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-

They were all dead serious.

"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.

"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.

"Bruce-"

"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."

"I'm fine-"

"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."

You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.

Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.

After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.

#yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batboys #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere jason todd

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nouvellevqgue · 1 month

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SWEET MEMORIES ; oscar piastri x webber!reader

summary: it's been a year since they got married and ever since then, they can't help but to go back in times and recall the sweet memories of their wedding day here and there.

note: aight, this is the last on my queue, for the rest of my works check @duhyork for more. and sorry for the wrongs and awkwardness here, i've never written a wedding scene before :)

ONE YEAR AGO...

ynwebber and oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris and 986,772 others

ynwebber 4.4.24 🤍

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landonorris wowowow congratulations to the both of you future parents! can't wait to see how your kids going to look like

mclaren Congratulations to you Lovebirds! 🥹❤️

username WHAT WHY AM I KNOWING THIS JUST NOW

username I can clearly see that is Oscar

username boy can't even remove the awkward stance off for a moment 😭😭

alpinef1team Congratulations for the wedding, Oscar. We sincerely hope that you both would have a good love life together!

username This is the first time that alpine admin say something longer than their usual sarcastic reply

alex_albon Me, Lily, and the rest of Williams team wish the both of you a very happy wedding day from LA. So sorry that we cannot attend the both of your wedding, but we certainly wish the best for you both. 🫶🤍🤍

username I js woke up and then I saw this... It honestly feels like a fever dream

redbullracing We wish you the happiest wedding to the couple!

scuderiaferrari We too at Scuderia Ferrari, represents all the drivers and crew here wish the both of the happy couple a best wedding.

username aren't they a bit too young to get married?

lewishamilton Happy wedding day to this couple! I wish you a great future and a wealthy life.

aussiegrit It is still hard to believe that you were married with my daughter now. But either way, I really wish you both to have a great life and for the rest is indescribable...

yourusername Awwwwww... Thanks dad!🥹🥹🥹

username Bro got lucky and got two webbers at once

username he already marries her dad first

“...i wish you long life, happiness, prosperity, and may the vows you made to each other today sustain you forever.” the priest said, breaking the silence for a moment before continuing his speech, “you may kiss the bride.” he ends. and by the time they kissed, the crowd's cheer is erupting from everywhere. clearly happy to see them finally holding the new title of husband and wife.

an hour has passed right from the reception, and now they're gathering at the garden, celebrating their special day. and definitely, it's led by lando, who has been his friends for all this time and has witnessed ‘the ins and outs of their romance.’

the loud sound of a fork meeting a champagne glass as he gets up caught the attention of everyone there, including the married couple. waiting for whatever going to happen next.

“okay um, first of all i want to say my congratulations to this couple for the a hundredth times today,” he said, followed by some of the audience giggle at his speech. “but i just wanted to say that, "even though I haven't known you as long as hogan has known you, but i at least know the half part of your love story along with what i'm now saying is that your wife is right in mclaren's garage." he said while smiling, and he could also see oscar whose cheeks were starting to turn red and his smile was widening every time he spoke.

"i actually never thought that they would get married in the end, but is that more surprising than him winning the heart of mark webber's daughter? the only daughter of his own manager after having his first win.” he said with a surprised tone, making mark who is sitting right in front of him covering his face as the audience's laughter is started to come from here and there as soon as lando said that.

“but really, i've witnessed their love story since... probably since he's still a newcomer, a new driver for mclaren, i've seen it.” a burst of awws coming after that, “they are completing each other from each other's flaws, and for the rest of it were just history. and also... does their cuteness count?” he looked at mark and at the time he saw him nod, he finally said: “yes. cuteness from them does count.” he ends. “everybody, cheers to the happy couple. i pray that the both of you will always be happy.” he raised his glass before finally sipping its contents, earning a bunch of applause from the crowd.

the couple can't help but to kiss once again after his speech, mark and nicole can't help but to smiled at each other, and lando looking so proud of himself afterwards.

the surprise of course didn't just end there, but the night are still young, and there's still a lot to uncover right there.

ONE YEAR LATER...

ynwebber

liked by oscarpiastri and 452,766 others

ynwebber I still recall it very clearly that when the first I saw your dad, he immediately got into tears, and oh boy so do I 🥲 I loved every second of our very special day, and I can't get enough of your love for ever after.

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oscarpiastri ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

lilymhe AAAAAAHHH YOU TWO ARE THE CUTEEESSSTT!! 🤗🤗

carmenmmundt I miss how emotional it is there, you both really suited each other.

username I CRIED TOO THAT TIME

username omg i wanna jump out of a cliff

username I don't believe it's been a year since

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oscarpiastri

liked by ynwebber and 739,902 others

oscarpiastri Inarguably the best and my favourite day of my life. You made it completely for me, Y/n. You are the best person I can asked for to be with me for the rest of my life.

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note 2: happy birthday oscar piastri, future wdc.

taglist: @queenofmanydreams @muglermami @4limq @avengers-assemble123456 @cabbyhabs @meowtastick @4mula-1 @miarabanana @amel1ee @dinosushilun1 @auggieblogs @namgification @charli123456789 @cherry-piee

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carolmunson · 7 months

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you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down.

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery.

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.”

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later.

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head.

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere.

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.”

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?”

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?”

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.”

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?”

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?”

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow.

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on.

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you.

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch.

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before.

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears.

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough.

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.”

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.”

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.”

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.”

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly.

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit.

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.”

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death.

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.”

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily.

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.”

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.”

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.”

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper.

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge.

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.”

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.”

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat.

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.”

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes.

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story.

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you.

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…”

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #kas!eddie #kas!eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson #vampire!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #tw: dubcon #tw: dub-con #dark!eddie #dark!eddie munson

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actual-changeling · 6 months

Text

This post is going to show you the EXACT moment that tear forms with indisputable evidence that consists of several screencaps, detail shots, and slowed down video proof, which will be at the very end.

The tear and I are getting married, her name is Trina and I love her.

Let's get right into it. Be prepared for uh. Very painful facial expressions! And tears (at the end).

We're going to look through the final fifteen chronologically with pit stops at important emotional points that I think would make sense to cause a tear.

As you can see, we go into this argument with mostly dry eyes, a little glistening here and there but those are NOT tears. Probably just the contacts plus the lack of blinking making his eyes a bit more moist than your usual pair. The tear will be obvious.

Obvious disbelief when Aziraphale tells him about the Metatron's bullshit, yes, but Crowley soldiers on through.

Now a scene that I personally thought would be most likely to cause tears - "tell me you said no". However - his eyes stay dry! Both before and after Aziraphale's non-answer. No tears.

The best spot to look at is his waterline, and as you can see it's free of any sad tears.

We have reached the "go off together" stage, Crowley is yelling, they're both emotionally perturbed, a very good foundation for tears. Yet when you look at his eyes during and right after, they're still dry!

We are now right before Crowley says "you can't leave this bookshop" and when he does BOOM the tear is suddenly there!

This is what our tear looks like, and we have a very narrow time frame during which it can appear. So it is time for the grand reveal because by now you're probably yelling at me "okay but WHEN does it show up??"

I will tell you. Or rather, I will show you first and then tell you what Aziraphale said right before that triggered it. Ready?

There it is. Left - no tear. Right - tear. (no i will not make the trivago joke again i want to but i wont.)

Come with me! To heaven! I'll run it, -> no tear yet. It appears after the next part.

you can be my second in command THAT is what causes the tear to finally show up. Right as Aziraphale finishes his sentence you can watch as it appears.

As promised, here is the video evidence, slowed down by half and zoomed in on Crowley's face at the end.

Alright, have you seen enough tears? Good! Let's look at the emotional reason. Because your question is probably what is so special about that sentence that it tips Crowley over the edge?

That one sentence, that one "promise" Aziraphale makes him, destroys everything. All of it in one go.

It is not just about Aziraphale choosing heaven over him, it's not about him saying no to running away (Crowley probably saw that coming anyway). What Aziraphale does is he takes them, their us and eliminates it.

Not just is he telling Crowley that he's an evil demon tm who needs to be an angel to be worthy of staying in Aziraphale's life, but "second in command" takes that even further.

Not "ruling together" or "ruling side by side" or any variation of those. No, Aziraphale is telling him that they are not equal and never have been. That Crowley has always been inferior to him and always WILL BE even if he stops being a demon and does what Aziraphale wants.

This is why Crowley no longer things of them as an us after all of that. Aziraphale took every single meaning it had and inverted it, crushed it up, and then threw it away.

Yeah.

Crowley is telling him he is gay and in gay love with him. Aziraphale takes that and says "you can be my employee at gay conversion therapy which i will run #straight besties".

Crowley hears "second in command" and it is the last puzzle piece falling into place. It's the final straw and that is when we get the tear. Before that he was saying we can be together, be an us, just the two of us, you and me. He was referring to them as free equals who don't need heaven or hell, who are happy with everything the way it is. An Aziraphale who loves Crowley no matter what his former occupation might have been.

We could have been us. (I wanted us to be an us)

And Aziraphale's answer to that is there has never been an us and we never will be. i don't love you the way you love me.

Anyway, see y'all on my next angst post or in the tags. Have another devastating screencap to wrap this all up nicely 💚

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens meta #good omens 2

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 19 days

Note

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

-----

The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter.

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway.

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence.

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan.

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life.

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together.

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you.

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes.

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk.

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop.

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in.

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.”

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.”

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day.

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually.

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid.

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did.

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.”

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner.

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way.

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude.

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.”

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?”

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked.

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“What’d you do this weekend?”

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?”

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his.

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.”

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of.

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked.

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked.

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.”

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot.

God, you were down bad.

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face.

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed.

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded.

That was all you needed to hear.

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible.

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little.

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting.

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual.

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken.

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.”

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?”

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger.

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.”

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm.

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed.

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece.

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice.

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!”

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his.

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive.

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless.

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!baureader

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missmonsters2 · 9 months

Text

Mirror, Mirror | One

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: The thought of something more had never really crossed Wanda's mind when it came to you. Best friends for 10 years and there hasn't even been one instance of accidental sexual tension. You're her best friend, that's all—until someone points out that you obviously have a very specific type when it comes to dating.

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: i'm back!!! Nothing like coming back and posting a mini series. Enjoy this superior trope. Updates will be on Tuesdays! As you can see, we're trying something new with explicit content lol 😬

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~4.1k

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It's strange how sometimes a single sentence can change someone's entire life.

Wanda's thought about what sentences could change her life—usually, they're morbid and depressing.

'You have cancer.'

'Someone you love has died horrifically in an accident.'

'Your cat actually finds living with you miserable and would prefer the dangers of living in the streets.'

Never in a million years would Wanda ever think it'd be, 'Hey, have you ever noticed how your best friend exclusively only dates girls who look like you?'

And don't get Wanda wrong. It wasn't a morbid or depressing change; it was just...a change. An irrevocable change because now, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about it or noticing it.

This was all Steve's fault.

Because if someone like Stupid Steve could notice something like that, it had to mean something, right? But as Wanda remembers about the past girls you've hooked up with and brought around, she doesn't know what to make of it.

A part of Wanda wishes she had never talked to Steve that night at the bar.

"Where's Vis?" Steve asked, looking around.

"With Tony playing pool, I think," Wanda shrugged. She doesn't particularly keep track of where her on-and-off boyfriend goes. She thinks they might be on an off-period right now, anyway.

"And where's—oh, nevermind, there she is," Steve started to say but cut off when they both saw you across the bar talking with the bartender, flirting over drinks—which were probably free if Wanda could guess.

Wanda's slightly annoyed because it's been a long week without seeing you, and Wanda's been used to seeing you almost every day for the past several years of her life. But you've been gone on a work trip this week for a wedding shoot and only came home just a little after lunch and needed an immediate long nap before tonight's get-together.

That meant Wanda was sorely missing out on best-friend time, and now you were off flirting shamelessly with the hot bartender. Wanda's rooting for you, make no mistake. The bartender is definitely easy on the eyes, luscious hair, and lips—something Wanda knows you're weak for.

Plus, Wanda's worried you're not anywhere near getting close to settling down. She wants you to be in a happy, fulfilling relationship. But she supposes she's in no position to talk herself.

Wanda loves Vision without a doubt, but their relationship is definitely chaotic, and Vision keeps pushing for something more serious now that they've been dating (sporadically) for a long time. She's been considering it in her downtime and thinks it might make sense as the next step.

Best friends do everything together, right? So, maybe if Wanda decided to take the next step in a serious relationship, you'd find someone to commit to seriously as well.

Then, both of you could get married at the same time. Then, they could buy a house in the same neighborhood right next to each other. There'd be endless double dates and vacations together. Wanda wouldn't have to miss you.

But first, Wanda needed to regain lost best-friend time, one-on-one style.

"Hey, you know what I just noticed?" Steve said, breaking Wanda's drifting thoughts.

"What?"

"Bug—"

Wanda makes a face at your nickname. Granted, it was Wanda's fault you ended up with it back in your first year of university. You never let her forget it, especially now that you're a professional photographer.

"—over there has a very specific type she goes after for girls," Steve mused, sipping his whiskey before continuing. "I mean, they always have green eyes and brunette—wait, that's not true. She had two red-headed girlfriends in our last year of university. They still had green eyes, though."

"Oh," Wanda said, unsure what to say since she's never paid attention to the girls you were dating. On average, they were a brief fling, and only a few lasted longer than half a year. "I guess so?"

Wanda distantly thinks about how she dyed her hair auburn in her last year of university because she was looking for a change that year and Natasha was insistent that she'd look amazing. Wanda recalls you were a fan of the look.

"Yeah," Steve nodded along. "Ironically, they always look like you in some way. Check out that bartender now—long, wavy-haired brunette with green eyes. She's got thick, long lips and even does that dark eye-shadow makeup thingy like you."

Steve just laughed it off, finishing his drink, thinking nothing more of it before he started talking about Bucky.

But it was like something clicked into place in Wanda's brain. A daunting realization that she was wholly unprepared for and not equipped to do anything about.

Wanda watched as the bartender clocked off for the night and dragged you into a corner booth, drinks in hand. It gave Wanda the perfect view that the bartender wore many rings just like she did.

In the poor privacy of the dimly lit corner booth, there was a staunch and needy kiss from the two of you, and Wanda swallowed roughly.

From here, if you were none the wiser, Wanda could be easily mistaken for the girl in the booth with you.

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Sometimes, Wanda believes she's just being absolutely ridiculous. So what if you go after girls who share the same features as her? That didn't have to mean anything. You've always told Wanda she was beautiful, and it was perfect how you said it.

It didn't feel insincere or creepy. It felt good to know her best friend thought she was absolutely gorgeous. But just because you thought she was beautiful doesn't mean you harbored secret feelings for her.

You'd be insulted if you knew Wanda had ever thought that. She'd just be another one of those girls Wanda's seen you humble on multiple occasions when they found out you dated women, and they were worried you might have a crush on them.

But then, Wanda couldn't stop thinking she actually might be one of those girls because then she'd think about if you didn't consider her like that, it wasn't about her looks but something about her personality that wasn't your type.

And what could that be?

Wanda thought long and hard, trying to remember the girls you've introduced her to.

Sometimes they were funny, and Wanda was funny. She made you laugh all the time. She specifically remembered one time in high school when she made you laugh so hard you peed your pants just a little.

Sometimes they were intellectual, and while Wanda didn't have an IQ of 160, she did fairly well academically and was on the right track in her career.

Sometimes they were charming, and Wanda was the type where she got more charming the more you got to know her.

So, Wanda just doesn't understand. She's nowhere further with her thinking ever since this weird information has been bestowed upon her.

Maybe it all just means nothing. You just didn't feel that way about Wanda despite the type of girls you dated suggesting otherwise. You didn't need a reason for it, and maybe the fact you only felt friendship for her was the reason.

"Wanna order pizza in tonight?"

Wanda turns her head from the tv and notices you've put your book down. "Hm, not really. We had pizza last week," Wanda shakes her head.

"How about that Greek place that just opened up on Willington Ave?" You suggest. "Pretty sure I heard you grumbling about wanting Greek food earlier this week."

"I was not grumbling!" Wanda scoffs but smiles when you raise your eyebrow at her. "Okay, I was grumbling a little."

You snicker as you pull out your phone to order delivery. "Oh, sweet golden best friend of mine, whatever shall you do when you get married to Vis, who hates Greek food. Do I foresee a life of Greekless cuisine? Oh, the suffering you'll go through!"

"I don't need him to like it," Wanda slaps your arm, sticking her tongue out before she cuddles you. "I have you to eat it with."

You laugh unabashedly, a sound that Wanda's accustomed to hearing the joyful sound. "Better hope the person I marry also hates Greek cuisine. I don't know if I can live a life of eating double the Greek food. I love tzatziki sauce, but if I grow to hate it from eating it too much, I will make you suffer the consequences of that."

Your voice trails off as you focus on ordering food, unable to see the cogs in Wanda's head turning.

It's all so easy. There's no tension, no electric vibes happening. Just best friends enjoying the banter and making plans to eat.

It was all in Wanda's head, right? You're her best friend, so of course you'd know everything about her.

The right type of friendship is fulfilling and soul-connecting, and that's what Wanda has with you. When you have a one-in-a-million connection like that, the line between friendship and romance is thin, isn't it?

Wanda hates Steve. She'd never think about this if it wasn't for Stupid Steve. She can hear his dumb laugh, blissfully ignorant about the observation bomb he dropped upon her.

"Do you wanna get ice cream after?" You ask, throwing your phone to the side. "I'll even treat you to the gelato despite knowing I'm going to suffer through your crazy farts later."

"Oh my god, I'm going to trap you under the blanket with it just for that!"

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Within two months, Wanda forgets about it. Forgets, as in that she decides to drop it (let it linger in the deep depths of her brain that she refuses to acknowledge), and resolves that Steve has no brain cells and has no idea what he's saying.

"Have you seen my strapless black top?" Wanda shouts from her room with the door open. "The one with the v-shaped front!"

"In your closet!" You yelled back from the living room, not taking your eyes off your phone.

"I can't find it," Wanda whines, and she hears you sigh as you get up. The footsteps approach her room, and she finds you standing at the door with an unimpressed look.

"I don't want to hear it," Wanda sniffs.

"Hear what, brat?" You say with a brow raised before you start rummaging through her closet. The nickname was a joke you started that Wanda was entirely a spoiled person, exhibiting bratty behavior at times. "That I'm not gonna be your roommate forever, so you need to learn to fold it yourself before putting it away?"

Wanda makes grumbling noises that are mostly nonsensical but smiles when you pull out the top she was looking for.

"You are the apple of my eye, stinky," Wanda grabs the top from you before she runs into her washroom to briefly change into it.

"A match made in heaven, yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes with good humor. "Hurry up, Natasha will kill us if we're late for Yelena's birthday. They're on an upwards mend in their relationship, so she's been so unbearably uptight lately to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"I know, I know," Wanda mutters, carefully pulling the top over her head to not ruin her makeup.

"Alright, I'll hail us a cab, meet me outside."

"Wait, wait!" Wanda calls out. "I need help putting on my necklace."

You chuckle, walking back just as Wanda steps out of the bathroom with the delicate necklace she wants to wear.

"Alright, alright, relax," you tell her. "Your accent gets really strong when you're stressed."

"You're stressing me out by rushing me," Wanda scrunches her nose even though you can't see it. "I'm also stressed knowing that you have to rush me, or I'll spend the party getting lectured by Natasha."

Wanda's voice comes out husked with the accent, something she's struggled between hating or loving, but mostly loving since you've expressed how lovely it is.

You grab the necklace from her hand, and Wanda moves her hair out of the way. The routine of it all starts to bleed the tension out of her shoulders.

Then, that horrible Stupid Steve Sentence kicks into her brain.

It's only as you put your arms over, placing the necklace against Wanda's chest, and focusing on trying to get the clasp in. Wanda can feel your warm breath against her neck, summoning goosebumps along her arms. You're so close, and she can feel the heat of your body radiating onto her, your fingers just barely brushing against her.

The tension comes suddenly, squeezing inside her chest as her breathing slows and shakes. Her body warms in an unexpected way.

"Ah, got it," you say, but Wanda can only focus on your voice and breath on the shell of her ear. "Cute necklace but the clasp is so annoying."

You pull away and start walking off. "C'mon, I bet if we tip our taxi driver an extra $20 bucks, they'll speed and we can pray we're on time."

Wanda's left standing there, knowing she probably sounds like she's fresh out of Sokovia with how stressed she is. Her right eye twitches.

Was that...Wanda gulps. Was that sexual tension?

And was she the only one who felt it?

Fuck.

She's going to kill Steve.

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Natasha's absolutely neurotic when they arrive. It's just a simple backyard party, but it almost looks like a wedding venue with all the catering and flowers.

Wanda's pretty sure Natasha's only being like this because she's overthinking about whether to cling to Yelena or give her sister some space to mingle with others. She seems to be sizing up Kate, who Yelena might be seeing, but it hasn't been confirmed.

Yelena looks between exasperated with Natasha and secretly happy about the entire thing. Wanda can sympathize with her. After all, she's also a little sister, and Pietro can also be way too overprotective. Sometimes she's glad he's abroad in Europe for work while she remains in New York, but she misses him more often than she admits.

"Alright, alright, Natasha," you groan, and Wanda's mind slips back into the conversation. "We're 3 minutes late, relax, will you? Damn, are you always gonna be like this until you and Yelena get back into whatever sibling bond you had before? Hope you're just like this with us because otherwise, you're gonna scare away all her friends, and she's going to hate you."

"Oh my god, do you think she'll really hate me?" Natasha bites her bottom lip in worry while looking around at all the people that they can only assume she's nagged about being late or whatever mishap.

"Oh, man," you sigh, putting your hand on her shoulders before pushing her towards the bar. "You need some drinks and maybe some desserts in you."

Wanda's about to follow you when you turn around and nod your head in a different direction. She looks over and sees you're nodding toward Vision.

"You should go say hi to him," you tell her. "You've been complaining about not seeing him all last week, even though I don't know why you guys won't just FaceTime, but I digress. Come find me later, or I'll find you after."

You look over at Natasha, who's peering on her tippy toes to see if she can find Yelena.

"And, hopefully, I'll have ditched this nutjob," you whisper conspiratorially and laugh when Natasha turns around to smack your arm.

"I heard that!"

Wanda chuckles as you walk off with Natasha while she turns and heads toward Vision. Despite how she was complaining about not seeing Vision last week because she did miss him, her expression was sour as she made her way toward him.

Vision spots her immediately and waves at her with a warm smile. Wanda feels herself somewhat loosened at his expression. They'd also been friends a long time before they started on-and-off dating, so at the very least, she does miss his easy friendship.

"Hey," Vision hugs her, slightly rubbing her back before he pulls away but keeps his arm around her. "It's been a while; you look lovely."

"Thanks," Wanda smiles with a shrug. She looks around and sees he's standing with Tony and Pepper. "How are you guys?"

"Could be better," Tony sighs dramatically. "Natasha won't let me do any of my cool party tricks as if I'm going to ruin her little sister's party. If anything, I could make it the party of the century!"

Pepper rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "We were just talking about how we're thinking of going to the Bahamas for vacation in December and escaping the cold. We've invited you and Vision along since it's been awhile since we've all gone together. Of course, we can also invite Bug and Natasha."

"Oh," Wanda says for a lack of anything else to say. She doesn't know how to feel about it, but she peers over at Vision, who's just smiling at her and looking eager about it.

"I need another drink if I'm going to suffer through this party," Tony sighs. "Maybe I can convince Yelena instead!" He grins, dragging Pepper along, and they walk off together.

"So, what do you think?" Vision asks when they're alone. "I didn't want to reply on your behalf since I wasn't sure, but I think it'd be good for us. I've missed you," Vision pauses as if he's about his next words but then says, "a lot."

"Yeah, me too," Wanda starts to say, but then her brain gets all haywire because it feels like a lie. She did miss him, but did she miss him a lot? "I think."

"You think?"

Wanda wants to smack her forehead because she didn't mean to say that out loud. "I mean, I was complaining a lot that I haven't seen you in a while all last week."

"Yeah, work has just been overwhelming. I get so tired after work, I just can't keep up with the texting or calls."

But you can, Wanda thinks. Granted, you're her roommate, so it's easier. But even when you have to go on work trips, you regularly text her no matter what time and squeeze in a quick call, even if it's just to say goodnight.

The entire thing makes Wanda bite her tongue because why was she even thinking about that? That was completely irrelevant to Vision.

Then—because as if just thinking about you wasn't enough—her eyes trail across the room, and the scene before her makes Wanda even more confused about her feelings.

You're standing there with Natasha at the bar, but it looks like Natasha's calling someone over to introduce you to them.

Another brunette with long, wavy hair, like she just had a blowout done. Wanda's not 100% sure from this distance, but she has an inkling that the brunette also has green eyes. She's wearing a white halter top and wide-legged sage green pants. She wears a lot of rings, but her makeup is lighter and more summery compared to Wanda's darker, smokey eye makeup.

In short, this woman was the clean girl aesthetic version of Wanda.

And you look interested.

This was ridiculous, Wanda fumes, feeling her stomach sink and cheeks flare hot in anger. As quick as the anger came, it dissipated.

Why was she so angry?

She feels betrayed, and her thoughts are turning very ugly. Wanda is definitely not being a girl's girl right now with how much she's thinking she's better than the girl in front of you.

But that just makes everything so much more confusing.

"Wanda?"

Wanda turns her head back to Vision. He looks concerned, and even when his eyes trail toward what Wanda's staring at, there's no additional reaction. He's not upset that she's staring at you, and that has to mean something, right?

It must mean there was never a concern about how Wanda might've felt about you. Sure, there were a few things Wanda couldn't be without, and you were one of them, but nobody can't be without their best friend.

No one had ever blinked twice about you and Wanda.

Except now.

And that person was Wanda herself.

The more Wanda thought about the entire thing, the more she became curious. The idea of you dating people who looked like Wanda was intriguing. She wanted to ask questions but didn't know what to ask.

It might mean nothing, but it also might mean something.

And if it does mean something, Wanda wants to know what exactly it is.

Therefore, Wanda needs nothing in her way to find out the truth and exactly what she wants, regardless of the answer.

This was insane, wasn't it? Wanda's always been ambivalent about dating women. She's never gone out of her way to try it since she had Vision. Never mind entertaining thoughts about dating her best (girl)friend. And now, she was giving everything up in the pursuit of finding out what it could mean that her best friend was dating her lookalikes—and why she cared.

Wanda doesn't even know what she'll want to do with that information.

Wanda looks at Vision, peering at his features she's always found handsome. When she thinks back, she's not even sure why she complained to you about how she hasn't seen or heard from him lately. She hadn't even gone out of her own way to do something about it.

"I'm not going on the trip. I don't think I actually missed you like that."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The girl introduced to you was named Raye, Natasha's coworker that recently moved from Nashville. It was also confirmed she has green eyes, though they had specks of brown in them. She was a southern belle with a bold attitude, witty, and a wicked sense of humor. All in all, undeniably charismatic.

At least, that's what you told her in private because all Wanda could feel was unrestricted aggravation with the other girl. The southern twang made Wanda's eye twitch, mostly because she knew you were head over heels for accents.

"And then before I knew it, I was panicked and more lost than a blindfolded turkey on thanksgiving!"

You burst out laughing while Wanda's expression is stony, but when you look at Wanda, she forces a smile on her lips.

"Hahaha," Wanda dryly let out. "So funny."

But it wasn't. What the fuck did that even mean?

Raye continues to talk while you listen with rapt interest, and Wanda takes the time to observe your features in a way she's done many times before but with a different mindset.

Your lips are curved in a smile, glistening from your chapstick. They're shapely, and they look soft. It rivals her favorite feature of yours, which is your eyes. They've always been so expressive with her, and Wanda's been around long enough that she knows what every expression means. She can tell when they glint with mischievousness or are soft with immense compassion and empathy.

"So, what did you think of Raye?" You ask Wanda as you leave the party.

"She's cool, I guess," Wanda answers nonchalantly.

The rest of the party was excruciating between Raye constantly hanging around you and Wanda also being too nervous to be alone with you.

"Really cool," you sigh with a grin. "Glad I got her number. It's been a while since I've met someone so funny."

Was she funny, though? Wanda wonders.

"Funnier than me?" Wanda finds herself asking.

"No one could be funnier than you, brat," you smirk. "I almost peed myself laughing again when you almost knocked off Yelena's cake. I thought Natasha was about to enter into a coma." You snicker while Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile.

"Glad I can always give you the biggest laughs, stinky."

Wanda glances over at your face, recognizing the excitement by the brightness in them. It's just another reminder that, as your best friend, she knows you like the back of her hand.

But lately, when Wanda watches you pick up girls, she can tell when they're heady with desire. That look hasn't been directed at her, and Wanda wants to know what it'd be like if it were.

Wanda recalls the night you kissed the bartender and imagines if it had been her instead. She pictures your hand sliding across her jaw and cheek while your other pulls her closer at the waist.

It's horrifying when a slow pit of arousal builds in Wanda's gut and...other regions. It feels utterly frightening and wrong like she's betraying the friendship for having and then reacting to such thoughts about you.

But there's another part—the part that tells Wanda there's nobody in this world that she loves more than you. The mere idea of ever being apart from you was unfathomable. Wanda could and has endured so many things, and it would always be okay as long as she had you.

So, knowing that Southern Belle Raye has the potential to be more than a one-night stand to you, Wanda realizes that she has a very small window to not only come to terms with her newfound feelings but also act on them as well.

If this didn't go well, Wanda would definitely murder Steve.

PART TWO

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #modern avengers au #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics

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yamujiburo · 1 month

Note

Hey Yam,

I saw you mention recently that if you were to create Rocketshipping AU related works again, you would do it a lot differently this time. Would you mind sharing a little more on that? (If not, it's totally ok too :) ) What changes you'd make from your previous Rocketshipping AU?

ive grown very fond of aroace james and id write him that way more intentionally. i feel like id always write him as the more romantic, physically affectionate one, but to me, that now feels like a mischaracterization of him on my part. jessie is 1000% the romantic between the two of them

i think it could be interesting to explore how, while jessie IS very romantic and james has little interest in a relationship, they still rely on one another and realize that they're each others' person. they both make compromises, jessie dialing back the romance and affection to james' comfort level but then james doing romantic gestures to make jessie happy.

then i think id make it so that they're either not married or get married much later

i guess what im saying i'd continue to write them more as friends/life partners like how they are in the show, but they'd just happen to be in a relationship haha

#ask yam

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bangficsx · 2 months

Text

PEACE OF HEART

pair : Yoongi x reader (f.) word count : 6.7k+ genre : arrange marriage (a healthy type), they're just exploring married life...., smut, fluff

warnings : depression, anxiety, fingering, orgasms, protected intercourse, dirty thoughts, (tell me if there's anything else)

As the plane finally takes off after a delay of more than an hour, Yoongi sighs in relief. He looks at you, who sits beside him, his beautiful wife. Everytime he looks at you he can't stop appreciating how beautiful you are.

You smile at him a bit then take your book out from your bag. Yoongi watches you trying hard to ignore his presence and focus on the ink on paper.

He wants to talk to you and thinks of different ways for how to initiate a conversation with you without disturbing. At last he decides on one and executes it. Coughs loudly and grabs your attention. You keep your book down and pass him the water bottle. He thanks you and you rub his back gently.

"You alright?" You ask and he nods.

"I downloaded that movie you were talking about" he says looking at you.

"Oh.. past lives?" You ask and he nods.

"Should I put it on?" He asks.

"Can I read for like just five minutes more? I'm at a very crucial part of the story..." you ask picking your book up again, unable to resist the urge to know what happens next.

"Sure" Yoongi says trying to read what you were reading. He really did want to read the same books as you and the ones you love and get to know you better.

You and Yoongi got married three days ago.

You both had known each other for three years now. You both were introduced to each other by your parents, talked often through texts. And soon realised you both weren't seeing anyone so you gave it a shot and went out on a date.

Your sister accidentally revealed the secret to your parents and they kept bugging you for two years to get married. After much deliberation and discussion, you both realised that you did like each other, your visions and goals aligned and hence, the possibility of a successful marriage seemed quite appealing.

You both weren't very dating oriented people, didn't like to fuck around or have relationships which would have no future. Instead you both had an unconventional idea of it all, that you'd meet someone like-minded, take things from there. Even marriage wasn't something you had dreamt a lot about. Although it did feel nice to walk down the aisle, and when you look in his eyes you have a feeling you are with the right person.

And when he looks at you, you know that he's falling for you and you... you have already fallen for him for a long time now.

There's a trust that you have on him, a bond of security which you know he won't violate. You both gave the honeymoon a chance to bring you two closer.

You finally opened up your mind after many pep talks by your sister who is married with two kids and trying for another, and firmly decided that you will not try to close yourself around him and try to be secretive.

Your sister got married with a man she'd known for only a year yet she was living a peaceful, mostly happy life with him.

You'd decided if things happen you won't try to unnecessarily resist and let them just flow.

You notice how he's trying to keep his hand in a position where it can lead to you touching his. To make things a little bit easier, you keep it on the center handrest between your two seats. After a minute, his hand rests beside yours. His elbow rubs on yours. He touches your hand with his pinky finger. Slowly his hand inches farther and covers yours completely.

You struggle to fight from blushing too hard, it only gets harder with the butterflies that flutter inside your tummy.

You intertwine your fingers with his. He audibly giggles for a second in excitement but then he tries to suppress it and looks here and there.

"Yoongi" you call him. "Look at me" you ask and he slowly turns his face towards you.

"Are you happy? If anything bothers you... we can talk" he says then brings his other hand towards your face and tucks your hair behind your ear. Finds that the earrings he had gifted you adorn your earlobes.

It was awkward on your wedding night. Your sister brought you two to your room before most people left and he was quite drunk, you were too so you two just slept. Him on the floor with a blanket laid beneath him and you on the bed. You would've argued about the arrangement but were too tired and drunk to do.

"No Yoon this is nice... really nice" you let him know your thoughts, no false pretensions in front of him.

He smiles before he picks your tangled fingers up and kisses your knuckles.

"I agree" he tells you with a smile.

"Wanna put on the film now?" You question and he brings the iPad out from his backpack. You both put on your headphones and play the movie.

The film breaks you, yet heals you in a way. You feel like if you were meant to find Yoongi too, you just feel that way about him that you two were meant to be. You were bound to somehow end up with him. In your eyes he was your perfect guy, your Mr. Right. Maybe he did have his flaws but you knew he was more than just his flaws.

You both mustn't have been in crazy kind of love yet you two knew that you were if not perfect but right for each other. It was in each other that you two finally found someone who understood.

At the end of the movie you received your food package. He ate your pickle for you, you eat his salad for him and that's how you know you two are perfect for each other.

When you wake from your nap, head cozily rested on Yoongi's shoulder you find that you were about to reach your destination in an hour.

You let Yoongi sleep for a little more as he was still in deep slumber. Get the chance to catch up with your reading again.

He likes how when he opens his eyes, the face he looks at is yours. The scent he sniffs beside him is yours.

"We're going to reach soon. You wanna freshen up?" You tell him. He looks around, there was still some time left to go to the restroom and he quickly left.

He comes back in a few minutes and you both watch the landscape outside as the plane starts to go downwards and the islands come in your sight.

"I'm so excited to spend the next five days here" he says, "with you" he quickly adds.

"Me too" you tell him touching his cheek.

The driver takes you both to your hotel after you pick up your luggage. The hotel was a bit far from the sea but it had a beautiful view from the room you both were given. It was quiet and surrounded by nature and small houses as opposed to the city view with skyscrapers that you two were used to.

The apartment that you two had shifted in gave a full view of the city from it's glass pane walls. Your living room especially and the way you had arranged your sofa set gave you the chance to relax while watching the world go on.

You wanted to not think about work, or home right now and allow yourself to completely immerse in the calmness of the island you were currently on.

You watch Yoongi help the housekeeper bring in your luggage and keeps it near the bed. He closes the door behind you then sits on the bed.

"You need anything?" He asks as he wipes off the sweat from his face.

"Nah I'm good. You?" You ask him instead. If he can take care of your needs, you can take care of his too.

"I'm so fucking tired... it wasn't that long a flight... my thirties are hitting me hard I guess..." he chuckles and you do too.

"We need to get a proper meal and then you'll be good. I'm sure" you say, he giggles.

"You wanna take a nap or go out?" He asks. He pulls his jeans down without any second thought. You know that he feels comfortable around you, you're his wife and he has no shame in front of you. Still you look away even though he's not fully naked.

He wears more comfy trousers and a matching t-shirt with it.

"Let's go out. We can always sleep later" you say. You open your shared suitcase and take a dress out from it. You had it all planned out which dress to wear on which day and the whole itinerary was already decided too.

Yoongi waits for you when you change in the bathroom. You put on some lotion on your hands and some lipbalm too... just in case things happen...

You somehow get how Yoongi feels towards you when you look in his eyes. His intentions are pretty straightforward. He does have expectations out of your marriage. He wants companionship and intimacy that should be present in a marriage.

You feel grateful for the full body treatment that your sister gifted you which included a full body wax, polishing and what not. Although you know Yoongi would love you no matter what.

It's not that you don't have the same expectations out of him. You aren't as blunt as him in your approach towards him, you get shy and hesitate a bit.

You love him.

He's your brightest star on a new moon night. He's your sunshine that appears after dark, gloomy, cloudy days which don't seem to go away.

You never knew if you were ever going to find love. If there was someone who would like you, understand you and somebody in whom you would find the qualities you looked for in a man. Yoongi was that guy for you.

He doesn't even knows how he's helping you heal your heart. Seven years ago you were in a situationship which lasted too long and left you so broken you didn't have it in yourself to look for love again.

And then your path crossed with Yoongi's. And now you both walked hand in hand on the same path together.

You walk closely with Yoongi when a guy working with the hotel tells you both to check the pool out. They had just completed cleaning it and with the current weather it would be a fun experience to hang out there.

He takes you towards the pool, hand in hand you like being like this him. With every passing second you just feel yourself getting closer to him.

But when you two reach there you look at yourself and then look around. Most people present were in swimsuits and you two were covered with t-shirts and jeans.

"It's too tempting... everyone seems to be having so much fun" he says with a hand on his waist as he looks around at couples and friends playing around in the water. Another excuse to just get closer to you.

"There are changing rooms over there. Should I just grab a pair of clothes from the room?" You ask him. Have always liked water too much to be able to resist.

"You wait here I'll go..." he quickly turns around.

"Hey no... you said you were tired. Just tell me what you need" you insist and he gives in.

"Blue shorts. Towel." He tells you and you smile at him before leaving with the key card.

Rummaging through the luggage you find his towel but not the shorts. You look under the shirts but the only thing you find is two boxes of condoms and a bottle of lubricant. It makes you gasp and smirk at the same time. He came prepared.

The topic of contraception had once come up between the two of you not about what you would personally use but more so as how it's usually considered a woman's duty than a mutual concern. And how most forms of hormonal birth control have side effects and how you once developed a nasty rash after taking the pill to delay your period for your sister's wedding.

The topic of kids had been discussed well in advance. You both wanted kids but maybe after some time, right now you had to focus on more important things.

You just keep the things where they were placed before and try to find the shorts that you found in between the shirts. You take a bralette and a pair of shorts for yourself. Wonder if Yoongi will like it, you're kinda sure that most of the men and their minds work the same.

You find Yoongi sitting on a bench waiting for you to come. He walks upto you when he sees you.

You both change when you step out his gaze does change but you see how he's trying to be respectful.

He goes inside the pool first then holds your hand and helps you come in although you insist you're fine.

"You know I learnt how to swim when I was like 4 so you needn't worry about me" you assure him and he smiles.

You show him that you do remember what you learnt by swimming around. He joins you and you both go to another corner and come back.

You talk about the weather and the food and some silly memories from your swimming lessons and have a good laugh.

You look around trying to capture everything with your eyes, remember it all. Your eyes see something disgusting and you immediately turn towards him and hold his arm.

"Hey... what happened" he gets flustered at your sudden change of expression.

"That man in the red boxers... he just touched himself looking at me, like he was smiling at me in such a creepy way... god" you sigh trying to get the sight out of your head.

"I'm gonna fucking break all of his teeth" Yoongi tries to walk upto the man and confront him but you stop him.

"We're in a foreign country I don't want you to get in trouble because of me... our honeymoon's just started..." you hold him while he fumes with anger.

"I don't care.." he says.

"Yoongi... kiss me" you say.

"What?" He's taken aback by your request.

"Nobody will dare look at me then" before you complete speaking his lips are on yours.

Although it happened all of a sudden yet you feel the urge to deepen it. His hold on you grows tighter. You keep a hand on his cheek.

He smiles in between the kiss, you do too. It wasn't exactly your first kiss, you had kissed him once a couple years ago after a really romantic date when he dropped you off near your house.

This felt different. Now you actually have feelings for him, stronger than before. And the way he's kissing you, it tells you he has too.

"We can't get out of the pool without doing this..." you get away from him and splash water at him.

He pretends to be angry which makes you back off but he splashes water at you too, giggling. You try to get away but he's quick to catch you.

Your back hits his chest when he holds you from behind. His bare chest.

"You can't run away anymore" he whispers in your ear. Your stomach growls audibly.

"Let's get out and grab something to eat" you know you can't deny now that he knows you're hungry.

When you two eat, he holds your hand when you keep it on the table. Your legs touch under the table. You crave to touch him more but you are very aware of where you are sitting.

"Yoongi..." you take his name in a gentle tone.

"Hmm?" He hums in response while chewing.

"Do you think it's possible to love someone without knowing everything about them?" You ask, presenting your dilemma to him.

"Maybe. And we can't really know anyone like 100%. There's always some parts unknown to us. We can only know what they tell us and trust them that they're telling us the truth. I don't think it's necessary..." he tells you. You see the glint of hope in his eyes wondering if it's him that you love.

He takes your doubts away with his words. You were skeptical if what you thought was right. Maybe you didn't know everything about him but maybe you knew just enough to be able to love him. You wonder if he loves you too.

When he's not looking at his food mostly his eyes stay focused on you. He's absolutely mesmerised with you.

It was about to be time for the sun to set. You decide to go to the beach and witness it together, the meeting of the sun and the sea over the horizon.

It makes you giddy how he refuses to walk without your hand in his. A simple act yet it makes you feel so close to him.

You walk barefeet with him along the shore. The sea washes your feet again and again. Yoongi keeps his arm draped over your shoulders while you keep yours on his back. People look at you and smile. Old people reminisce the days of their lost youth. Young people envy how you two are so undeniably, deeply in love. People want to be in the place you're in.

As the sun comes down to meet the sea, so do Yoongi's lips to meet yours. You smile as he kisses you. You were at a fairly empty and quiet spot, just the two of you.

He makes you sit down and wraps his arm around your shoulder, you rest your head on his chest as you two watch the most beautiful sunset, more beautiful with your life partner by your side.

You pick his hand, the one resting on his knee. You caress his knuckles. Even his hands are a work of art. And you get to hold them.

You look up at him as he watches the sunset then looks at you and grins. You press your lips near his and whisper "I love you Yoongi"

His eyes sparkle when you tell him those words. The words you'd been contemplating about for so long and finally had the confidence and courage to tell him.

He touches his lips on your forehead and says the same thing. "I love you too baby" he tells you. You feel goosebumps run in your body, your heart rate speeds up, you have the widest smile on your lips. It feels surreal to you yet feels like you've known it for so long.

His hand rests really close to your ass as you two walk back to your room and you oddly find it familiar. It helps that you have trust in him, that's just the way you are, you don't get to a physical level with anyone you can't trust with your life. He is the one. The one you love, you trust, you respect. Your husband.

When you reach the room, you can sense the impatience in him as much as it exists in you. He quickly puts in the card and you are quicker to get inside and lock the door behind you.

You remove your sandals and he follows you removing his shoes. He walks towards the mini fridge under the television. He takes a bottle of whiskey out.

"Want this?" He shoots the question towards you.

"Yep" you purse your lips.

You know he's just hesitant to make the first move. He's just worried if you would think he's desperate or impatient. He wants you to be ready as you both weren't physically intimate in anyway before.

Although you know it doesn't has to necessarily be that way, people have sex with people they might've met not even two hours ago. It just doesn't seems to work that way for you. But now that you know him, you have feelings for him a part of you wants it. To be intimate with him, close with him, have a connection with him which you've never had with anyone else nor do you want to have with anybody other than him.

In this moment, its just him that occupies your mind. You don't worry about your problems, your endless work, your upcoming exam for a promotion at work.

Most of the times you're overwhelmed with unnecessary worries and what ifs. What if your marriage doesn't works out, what if your husband isn't happy with you, what if you lose your job suddenly, what if you become prey of some financial scam, what if your husband loses his job, what if you can't have a kid, what if even if you have one you can't be a good mother or be unable to provide them the best education and opportunities. And what not. The list is endless.

But with Yoongi by your side, you feel a little bit of that pressure being lifted off from your shoulders. You know together you'll both figure it all out somehow.

You sit on the edge of the bed where Yoongi brings you the glass of alcohol and sits beside you. You sit closer to him and run your hands through his hair.

He kisses you and slowly slides his tongue in, you both taste like whiskey. You like the way he tastes, the way he feels, the way he smells, his musty cologne, his shiny hair.

You both can't resist things from heating up. His hand slides down your back and rests on your hips before he pushes you closer towards himself. Your thumb runs on his neck. You feel how his breaths get heavy, so do yours. You're panting as you're getting aroused.

Eventually you straddle him. He keeps pulling you closer no matter how much you are. But then he pulls away...

"Hey..." you look at him with a grave look. "If you don't want me to do any thing you can tell me. Don't feel like you're obligated to me because I'm your husband. I know how your mind works sometimes..." he caresses your hair while he speaks.

"Yoongi I told you what I feel... my love is not like platonic. This is kinda natural don't you think..."

"I just want to be your safe place. I want to be where you find peace. You give me that and I wanna give you that too. Look there were many things that led me to my decision of marrying you. When I'm with you... I've never felt this way before... I will love you till the end of this life but I want you to love yourself equally... growing up i saw my mother and aunts losing themselves in devotion to their husband and families. I don't want that for you... it's natural to have some expectations. But I'll never expect you to put me before yourself." You focus on him, your whole attention placed on him. You respect the way he gives importance to communication.

"Give yourself an hour each day. I'll give myself time too. Even if we have just an hour, let's just divide it and give half to ourselves and half to each other." You nod smiling at him.

"Thank you for choosing me Yoongi. I know that you had even better prospects. I wasn't your parent's first choice for you. But I'm glad that I found you and that I chose you..." you put kisses on his face. "I love you" You tell him before kissing him.

You pull apart for a few seconds just to say, "And I want it... like all of it"

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"You know what I mean" you say.

"Okay" he gives your ass a little squeeze pulling you towards himself to let you know how fucking hard he is. You're surprised too by how aroused you'd made him without even doing anything.

"Just a little thing I should let you know.. umm" you hesitate a bit. He looks at you concerned.

"This is my first time" you bite your lower lip. You have no idea what he must think, virginity at your age wasn't exactly usual.

"Okay" he says. "I'll keep that in mind. We can take it slow and easy. Don't worry" you smile at him before you cover his face with kisses. He giggles.

He pulls the strap down from your shoulders as he plants kisses on your neck. You know with the way he's sucking, he's gonna leave marks. You don't mind it. The matching rings on your fingers are enough to indicate who has done that to you.

You feel his hard on pressing against your thigh and grind on it a little as he goes down kissing your cleavage.

You'd been skeptical about how you would feel in this moment but now you know it isn't something you'd trade with anything else. You love the feeling, the way pleasure builds up inside you, the way wetness pools between your thighs.

You can't control and moan when he cups your breast. You try to find something to hold onto. You want to have direct contact with his skin too.

Hence, you unbutton his shirt. He removes it and gives you access to his bare chest. He tugs on your dress wishing for it to not be there. You part from him to remove it, get rid of your bra too.

He can't control himself when he looks at your bare breasts. He gets you to lie on the bed and cups your breast before wrapping his mouth around it. You moan loudly as his tongue flicks your nipple. His thumb circles on the other.

Your clit throbs igniting an urgent desire in you to touch yourself or be touched there.

Yoongi takes his time with your tits. He palms himself for a second before he grabs both your breasts and rubs your nipples with the thumbs. His mouth alternates in between them both. Has you arching your back and moaning so loud and you still have your underwear on.

It's not long before he pulls his jeans down and comes to the bed just in his boxers which leave you in surprise over how big he is. You just want to pull them down and suck him off. It looks fucking painful for him yet he manages.

"You wanna remove what's left together?" He asks, trying to find every possible way he can keep things easy for you. You nod.

He stands up from his place but his eyes stay on your body. You rub yourself a little from above your panties.

"I used to think we would wait for a couple months before doing this... I was so wrong I can't control how much I want you Yoon... I just can't" you say as you pull your panties down exposing your wet, messy pussy to him. You throw them on the floor, he does the same with his boxers.

You see his cock, hard and absolutely ready to fuck you, be buried inside you. You wonder how it would feel to touch it, have it in your mouth, in your pussy maybe even your ass someday... how it would look spilling, shooting sperm all over you. How gorgeous Yoongi might look as he comes, writhes with pleasure lying underneath you.

He gets the same dirty thoughts about your pussy. Wonders about the scent of it, the taste of it, how it would feel around his cock, how pretty it would look filled with his cock, his sperm, as it orgasms, if it can squirt. How tight, and wet and warm it must be. How quickly he might nut once he's inside it. He feels like he's going to come just by looking at it.

You touch your clit to tease him. He feels a rush of blood in his body as he watches you, your finger slowly stroking your clitoris.

Your moans echo in his ears. What he wouldn't give up to keep hearing them.

He joins you on the bed above you. His mouth meet yours again and this time he's much more passionate. His hand reaches between your thighs.

"Is this okay?" He asks and you hum in response.

He keeps rubbing your clit the way you were doing it.

"Yoongi... faster" you request and he obeys instantly.

"You know.. it might be better if I finger you first..." he hates to interrupt how much pleasure you were in. Still he asks first.

"Do it" you say, already close to an orgasm.

He covers his fingers in your juices before the tips of his fingers reach your entrance. He taps around before he slowly begins to insert his finger inside your cunt.

"And don't you dare to try faking it in front of me... okay?" He says faking an intimating voice.

He tries to find your g-spot after he has given you a few pumps. His fingers stroke against walls but he fails to find the exact spot again and again.

"Help me" he says.

"How?" You ask just to tease him.

"Where does it feels good?" He presses on a spot which makes you feel like you wanna pee and that's how you know he found it. You mostly just do clitoral when you're masturbating so it's mysterious to you too.

"Do you masturbate?" He asks out of nowhere.

"Why do you ask?" You enquire before answering.

"It helps one know their bodies better and what they like" he says.

"I did but mostly just external..." you tell him.

"There?" He asks when you moan and you nod as he presses the rough patch.

You grow wetter and wetter and it gets easier for him to finger you. You see his cock all engorged and leaking precum. So you move your hand down and wrap your hand around his shaft. Circle your thumb on the tip. He pants harder as you continue. His finger moves faster. But you wanna be coming around his cock.

"Yoongi... condom please" you say leaving hold of him and he pulls his fingers out too.

He stands up and walks to the suitcase. You watch his bare, sculpted back as he walks naked around the room, not ignoring his hard cock slapping against his stomach. He takes one box out and brings it to you. Also the bottle of lube.

"I've heard it helps women if they're on top the first time" he says waiting for your response before taking his position.

"Let's try then" you say before you sit up. He lies down beside you and you straddle him with a smirk.

You open the box of condoms and take one out while he keeps massaging your breasts. You rip the wrapper and hand it to him. You want to try putting it on him but you don't know if you would do it the correct way. And you need it to be used properly as that's your only option of protection right now.

You gently caress his balls while he rolls the condom on his dick. You pick up the lubricant and pour some on your palm.

"Uhh... Yoongi" you ask if you can do it. And he gives you an expression of assurance.

You're both grown ups, married, who cares how many times you fuck and in what ways and at what time. You have no reason to delay if you are both ready.

You spread the liquid all over his length, massaging him. Inside you are a bit worried how long and thick he is and if it'll hurt you too much. But you know that it's Yoongi and he would never mind if you fail to do it the first few times... you could always suck him off and finish in other ways.

"Okay then..." you take a deep breath as you shift to sit above him. You rub your pussy on his dick for a bit but then notice him twitching and the look on his face tells you he's having a hard time controlling himself.

He keeps his hands on your waist and stares at your cunt glisten with juices. He cups you and rubs you before you hold him to slide on him. He holds himself while you watch his cock slowly get inside you.

Both your gazes are stuck at one place. Your bodies connecting. You shift a little and take more of him inside you. He keeps his hands on your breasts, a thumb pressed on your clit to have you distracted from any pain.

You wince as you feel your pussy stretching like you've never been stretched before. His cock throbs inside you, trapped within your tight walls. He's using everything in him to not just fuck you hard. No matter how much he wants to, he would never do that while you're certainly in pain.

"Aah fuck..." you cry out as you take him in completely. It feels good yet it hurts. He's big. He's thick.

"Oh god Yoongi..." you try to move but it hurts to do.

"We can stop." he says.

"Yoongi it'll hurt again... I wanna be done with the pain right now... Once I come I dint think it'd really matter" you tell him. You're not backing off just because of the pain. You know it's just the matter of a first couple times and then you'll both have fun.

You lean down to kiss him.

"Make yourself cum right here" he whispers in a sexy tone.

You sit up and circle your finger on your clit. Yoongi spreads your pussy lips for you. The direct touch on your clit makes you flinch but it also brings an intense sensation to you. You increase the pace how your finger moves.

Yoongi circles your nipples before his thumbs come back to where they were. Your orgasm builds inside you, threatening to take control of your body. And you lose it... you come hard.. your whole body trembles, you start to bounce on his cock riding your high. The way your walls clench around him almost make him come. It was already hard for him regardless.

He moans as your movements don't cease. But the overstimulation doesn't helps.

"Let's switch positions" you tell Yoongi and he's quick in the way he rolls you over and takes his position above you. His cock slides you as you two move, there's a funny sound but you two don't even care.

He pumps himself a couple times before his tip meets your hole again. He pushes himself inside your tight cunt. He slips in easily with how you had loosened after the orgasm and all the lube and wetness help him too.

Luckily, the pain had been replaced with unbearable pleasure. Pleasure of such intensity that makes you want to scream. You feel thankful that it went away so quickly.

His fingers tangle with yours. You hold him tightly before he pulls them away. He kisses your neck, your breasts, your chest.

Yoongi builds a rhythm of how his cock again and again disappears into your pussy. He wanted to kiss it, lick it so badly. Make it come all over his tongue. The thoughts go away as all his attention moves towards his cock which twitches, his balls tighten. His tip keeps rubbing on your g-spot but it's irregular. You know he can't feel it with the condom on.

Another curiosity builds up inside you about how he would feel without a condom. You start to think about when your period is due and figure out the date when you could go raw.

You stroke your clit trying to chase the second orgasm that's building up inside you. You know he doesn't minds, even enjoyed watching you touch yourself.

His pace increases and so does yours. You squeeze his ass as he moans and gasps with how close he is. "Cumming... cumming!" He declares as his thrusts stop and his body shakes. You know he is ejaculating as you feel his cock pulsing, throbbing. You wonder how it would feel to have him come inside you, fill you up.

His orgasm is intense indicated with the way he struggles to move afterwards and remove the condom which he kinda hates at this moment. All he wants to do is hug you, hold you.

As soon as he's done, he quickly lies beside you. You run a hand through his hair, he kisses your neck, your shoulder. His hand reaches between your thighs, even in the daze of his own high he hasn't forgotten that you didn't finish. You spread your legs for him. Spread your labia like he'd done for you.

He lazily rubs you, then puts two of his fingers inside, with how aroused you were your g-spot was easier to find and after a few minutes you orgasm again. Throwing your head back, arching your back, squeezing your breast, holding his hand, moaning his name. You come because of him.

Tell him how much you love him and he tells you he loves you more.

Feeling absolutely fucked out, you two don't even look at the clock and close your eyes, just lying in each other's embrace. You keep a hand over his abdomen.

The only person you ever held like this in bed was your mother until you were five and slept in your own bed.

You feel an unmatched safety in his embrace. You know from now onwards you won't be alone when life hits you hard. On days you feel more depressed, which used to be so hard to get through all alone. He's gonna hold you and you're gonna hold him. And you can tell him anything and he can too.

Adjusting into your new life was made easy with Yoongi's love. He never tried to get away from doing half of the chores.

Soon you both figured out a routine that suited you. One for the weekdays when you both worked. One for the weekends when you both stayed home.

You got to know each other's friends. Got to know each other better than ever.

He knew exactly how to cheer you up when you felt depressed. And you knew all the ways to help him cope with stress.

You two were imperfect in your own ways but together you were better.

You grew to love the life you had each day.

Mornings spent listening to the news and drinking coffee with him, running late than showering together.

You had days of the week divided with tasks, who would cook breakfast, pack lunch, do laundry, cook dinner, do dishes, clean.

You spent weekends messing around with him in the kitchen and cooking and cleaning. And when you two ended up in bed you always somehow lost track of time.

If the days were spent quiet and peacefully, then you and your husband would go wild in the night, confined in your room alone but not alone.

And where three months went away you just don't understand. Scrolling on your phone at pictures of you two from the last quarter, your smile doesn't seems to fade.

You stand in front of your sleeping husband. He doesn't knows how his peace is about to be disrupted. You should've known something would come your way with how smooth sailing your life had been for a while. You had deluded yourself into thinking maybe your fate had changed for better.

How foolish of you to think your life could ever go smoothly.

You sit down beside him and run your fingers through his hair. He complains wishing to not wake early on a weekend.

"Yoongi" you call him and he immediately knows from your tone that it's urgent.

"Come here" he tries to pull you above him thinking it must be something silly you're worried about again. And you know how he loves morning sex and waits for the weekends to be able to do that peacefully.

You hold his hand and keep sitting up. He tucks your hair behind your ear.

"I don't know how you're gonna feel about this..." you take a deep breath and hold his hand, he holds it tighter.

You open your closed fist and he averts his gaze away from your face.

"I'm pregnant Yoongi"

#yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi #yoongi #bts yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min suga #yoongi min #bts smut #bts fanfic #yoongi oneshot #smut #fluff #arranged marriage

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theminecraftbee · 5 months

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you know it's INTERESTING to look back at the double life soulmate pairs and see how they're doing now, relationship-wise, because that experience shaped every soulmate pair differently, i think:

ren and bigb i'll put first on account of "we have no idea since ren hasn't been in the series since double life". when will our doggy come back from the war.......

grian and scar are... grian and scar, the soulbond alone is only part of everything going on there. i think being FORCED to team shaped them a bit into being a little/lot more stable in their relationship with each other in limited life and secret life, as well as maybe taught them a bit about each other's limits. i am... honestly not a desert duo guy there are people who can do the analysis of the soulmate bond's impact on them WAY better than me but. it's part of their overall arc, you know?

martyn and cleo are fun. they both are still clearly CLOSE but they are also both still clearly mistrustful and angry at each other! they have this whole "the only one who can kill you is me" dynamic going on between each other that's very fun. i think being soulmates... obviously they were one half of divorce quartet and the resentment of being forced together did some stuff to that relationship. but i think maybe it also sort of gave them something that they appreciate about each other as well? and they DO care, despite everything. (i could GO INTO THIS LET ME TELL YOU.) so like, they aren't close friends or anything, but they Know Each Other now. and that's a fun dynamic.

impulse and bdubs are funny because i think their bond both did and didn't shape them. the thing is, like desert duo, their soulbond is only one step in their journey, the one that ARGUABLY only settled out in limlife after impulse permakilled bdubs. (note that this is the first series where bdubs hasn't gotten a clock! he is FINALLY PAST that one relationship!) that said i think being each other's ridiculously happy married couple did something to impulse specifically, actually. i think it sort of confused and solidified the grudge and it also like, showed him the almost-happy-loyalty that he wanted in the world. i think these days impulse, at least, has a different idea of 'loyalty' and 'betrayal' thanks to that. and bdubs... i think it's relevant that despite bdubs intentionally CONSTANTLY THROWING UP BETRAYAL FLAGS, he never actually did it. and i don't think he ever actually would. but in terms of their relationship to EACH OTHER? the soulbond was, yeah, only one step in how that arc went.

scott and pearl are... interesting. it's funny; for one of the single most consequential soulbonds in double life, it like... mostly hasn't come up again in their relationship? part of this i think is that pearl's LONELINESS had more of an impact on her than anything scott specifically did, and scott choosing had more of an impact on him. so to each other they're mostly... normal? both a bit mistrustful but like... normal? it's in the ways they act with other people that this experience shaped them, i think; i could say something about scott's next major relationship being mean gills, and the way pearl is only now learning to be a part of a team that cares again. also, pearl's discovery of her bloodlust. that kind of happened in last life to be fair, but it's relevant,

jimmy and tango are surprisingly simple because they were one of the most stable and normal soulmate pairs, lol. they're each other's ranchers! they're still friendly to each other even when their teams are on opposite sides! i think having one relationship where he was the more self-assured one was nice for jimmy and tango having a guy who, rather like skizz, was never going to point out much when tango screwed up on account of Pot Meet Kettle was nice for him, and they both know it was nice. they both get more into the teasing now that they know each other better--a big part of the early ranchers dynamic is that they Did Not Know Each Other but now that they DO it's starting to settle into something shaped more like the kinds of relationships both tango and jimmy tend to have (and they are BOTH the kinds of people to have a lot of friendly mocking in their relationships i wouldn't be surprised if that gets Even More in the future)--but i think out of everyone they probably remember the soulmates thing the most fondly, given the degree to which they are still Buddies.

etho and joel are... good lord the boat boys. on the one hand: clearly they both still enjoy pointing out that the boat boys happened. joel gets... weirdly jealous of other people hanging out with etho? on the OTHER hand they seem determined to murder each other so so so bad. i like to think that their soulbond is a thing they look back on fondly from this but ALSO they both have such weird commitment hangups and bloodlust that maybe the fact they want to kill each other SO BADLY was inevitable. also interesting, though, is how much of this bloodlust comes from etho, given that normally you'd expect joel's relationships to go the other way. what i THINK is happening is that joel still feels a lot of loyalty towards the boat boys somewhere in his head (hence the jealousy and not typically being the one to lash out), whereas etho thinks of it as largely Done and Past, but thinks of it fondly--hence bringing it up every time he has to kill joel, and also the weird tendency to gravitate towards joel specifically. I DON'T KNOW MAN I WOULDN'T HAVE PREDICTED BEFORE LIMLIFE THAT BOAT BOYS WOULD BE THE SOULMATE PAIR THAT WERE WEIRDEST ABOUT EACH OTHER BUT HERE WE ARE,

anyway i just think it's funny to look back on the various soulbonds and realize which ones have had a big impact on sticking around and which ones haven't, you know?

#trafficblr #double life smp #sometimes i just sort of rotate the fact that the soulbond relationships have MOSTLY stuck around a lot #even though many of them arguably should have become less rleveant?#idk.#also oh god this ended up being long MY BAD

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neptuneiris · 9 months

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detachment (03/03)

with detachment, we see our mistakes honestly, make amends and start afresh.

pairing: prince!aemond × niece!reader

summary: aemond not only breaks your heart after so many love promises, he also breaks his betrothal to you without any justification and announces his betrothal to a baratheon girl. now you will be married soon too.

word count: 8.5k

previous part • series masterlist

thank you so much for joining me and giving your support to this short story. there will be no epilogue, this is the end, so i hope you enjoy it very much, love you all. see you in the next stories🥺❤

"You look too happy, my Lady."

"I say the same of you, my Lord."

Lord Cregan smiles softly in your direction, without both stopping dancing and without ceasing to be the center of attention of some of the nobles still remaining in their seats and your family as well.

Even though there are more people around you both also dancing, the center of the huge Room gradually adding of more people to dance, still you feel many attentive looks on you and your betrothed.

"Well, we would draw a lot of attention if we weren't dancing and smiling, my princess. This is all in our honor."

You smile, lowering your gaze for a moment.

"Well… then I must say you are an excellent dancing partner."

"You too, my princess," he smiles at you, "Although, to be honest with each other, this is actually costing me a bit… feeling a lot of eyes on me," he confesses to you honestly, without wiping the small smile from his lips, "Especially when I feel like they're burning my skin at the moment."

At that moment you don't need explanations. You know Lord Stark means him.

"I apologize for that," you say apologetically.

"No, it's all right," he assures you, "It's a bit intimidating, too much actually, considering the prince's reputation in combat. But in a way… I understand what he must be going through."

This catches your attention, at once watching him intently and curious.

"You shouldn't," you make it clear to him, serious, "This is our wedding, you don't have to feel sorry for him. From what I told you when you went to Dragonstone, remember he has no right, he was the one who cancelled our betrothal."

"Honestly, my princess… I wouldn't be surprised if at some point in the night you disappeared and left me."

You lower your gaze, deep inside you a few moons ago you probably would have wished for that, for Aemond to arrive at any moment, take you away and wed you. But now… this is a duty.

It's not like that's really going to happen either, not now when everything is already happening. He is present, yes, but it's all in the past and he's getting wed soon too.

"I can say the same for you, my Lord," you say a little amused, "I too feel a certain… intimidating stare."

He smiles softly and denies with his head.

"No. I would never do anything like that to you, princess."

"But do you love her or not?"

"I shouldn't answer you something like that, princess. It would be disrespectful when you are my betrothed, not her."

"No," you gently shake your head, "It is all right, my Lord. It is my wish for you to be honest with me, believe me I do not mind," you assure him, "Besides, I think I know the answer from what you also told me on your visit to my home."

"Well," he looks a little apologetic, "Yes, of course I love her. But I realized it too late. Had I known sooner, I would have married her in an instant."

You can't smile, especially knowing that both you and Lord Stark have someone else in your hearts and yet the two of you are here about to be wed.

Unconsciously your gaze wanders to Lady Alysanne Blackwood who is seated at one of the tables with a glass of wine in her hand, staring into oblivion and quickly identifying her sad face which she is trying to hide.

And you know this because you were also doing the same thing and feeling the same way.

"Have you spoken to her, my Lord?"

You turn your gaze to Lord Stark, asking him softly.

"She said she is happy for me and wishes me a loving and pleasing marriage," he tells you also trying to hide his pain on his face and in his tone, avoiding looking to where Lady Blackwood is now sitting.

"I'm very sorry."

"No princess, you had nothing to do with it," he assures you instantly, "You don't have to apologize and feel responsible, just as I have nothing to do with what happened between you and your uncle."

"Then why do I feel that if my uncle or I finally do something about our union, you'd be all right with it?" you ask him curiously, "You wouldn't be upset and turn on my family if I leave and make a fool of you after so much?"

"Well…" he thinks about it for a moment, " I would feel a little humiliated? Yes. But to be honest, if I were him and I was seeing the woman I love marrying someone else… I would wish things in my favor and no matter what, I would take her away from here and marry her in a heartbeat."

"That is what you would do even for when we are already in these circumstances and everyone expects us to marry soon?"

Lord Cregan looks at you with a small amused smile and a somewhat questioning look.

"Are you trying to say that's what you would do, my princess?"

"I spoke in supposition, my Lord," you explain, "What if we were in other circumstances. As for instance that this wedding is happening against my will, with a person I do not wish to marry and where…. the person I love also loves me."

"Princess, it is improper what I will say and it is not gentlemanly of me, especially since I truly mean no disrespect—

"It's all right," you assure him again softly, "Speak freely, my Lord."

"Well… since you put it that way and apparently we're both on the same page… yes," he confesses with a soft look, "I would too."

You frown slightly.

"But I never said I—

"It doesn't need to be said and I know I don't know you too well, my princess. But I know you would too."

He smiles softly at you, as you watch him silently, saying absolutely nothing, thinking about his words.

"I have heard the stories of your mother and father. All of them have come to the North, very interesting stories and captivating to more than one, I must say. And knowing that same blood runs through your veins…I am already prepared for whatever you decide to do."

"I am already prepared for whatever you decide to do."

That repeats constantly in your mind, saying nothing for a few seconds as you continue to dance to the music and the specific choreography while Lord Stark follows your same step at all times, as do the other nobles around you.

But truly… what would you do?

Nothing. Just do your duty. And your duty is this.

Between you and Aemond there is nothing anymore. It's not as if at any moment you're going to run away with him, running away from your responsibilities, because you know he won't do anything and certainly you won't do anything either.

It's all said and done, he's getting married, you're getting married and what you once had, that love that existed is gone. And even though the stories of your mother and father still live on… you and Aemond are not like them.

Right?

"No need to worry about that, my Lord," you tell him as you both continue to dance, "You and I, that is what is happening now. He's betrothed too and there's nothing left of what we once was."

"I would not be so sure about that, princess."

You look at him confused.

"Why not?"

"I know the nature of the man. And knowing his father, Prince Daemon, a man who has my full admiration and respect, his nephew, Prince Aemond must be just like him. Besides, he would be a fool not to be acting now that the woman he loves is marrying someone else."

You deny with your head, understanding the point about your father, who also acted at one time with your mother at her wedding to your father Sr. Laenor, but he in the end did nothing about it.

And Aemond… is completely different.

Your father didn't break your mother's heart in the worst possible way, leaving her without explanation, much less just when both of them were already about to get married and have everything.

And about finally acting when the woman he loves is marrying someone else… it's something you don't fully understand.

"It's selfish, dont you think?"

"All men are selfish, I include myself. But the decision is always up to you, the woman I love and all women," he assures you with a soft smile, "Now…." he makes you both stop dancing, holding your hand delicately, " I will know your decision soon, princess. I'll be here waiting."

Confusion begins to overtake you, not understanding anything.

"What do you mean, my Lord?"

He does not answer you, on the contrary, he places his gaze over your shoulder, looking at something or someone specific, barely giving you time to react, because at that moment Aemond appears between the two of you, placing one of his hands on Lord Stark's shoulder.

"May I, Sr. Cregan?"

This immediately catches your attention, as Aemond keeps his attention on lord Stark, who watches you for a few seconds and then nods in his direction.

"Of course, my prince."

All the other people around you continue to dance, as lord Stark begins to walk away to disappear among all the people… and you watch Aemond without expression really, even more without understanding anything.

And when he looks at you, it's like reliving all those moments, all those moments where you both shared kisses, caresses and those promises of love, also all those moments when you were children.

However… he says nothing and simply places now his hand on your lower back to start guiding you towards the center of the Room, you walking too instantly, both of you making your way through all the people dancing.

Nerves invade you, especially because this is the first time you are in front of him after everything that happened, taking into account that you ignored his request about meeting on the island, although he has it more in mind than you.

But everything happens too fast.

You are completely oblivious to the looks that Otto Hightower and Queen Alicent are giving you both, while your mother and father don't seem annoyed like the previous ones mentioned, but rather curious and expectant.

While Aegon… he couldn't be having more fun with the moment, especially delighting in his little brother's audacity and his mother's and grandsire furious stares, especially his grandsire.

Aemond glances sideways towards the table, or towards his grandsire specifically, being very aware that he is being watched. But honestly he couldn't care less.

He's had enough. And he doesn't care that this isn't what they expected of him or that it will lead to serious consequences later, he doesn't care anymore… because he will finally make things right.

"This is what you want?"

Is the first thing he says to you once he has your attention in High Valyrian, both of you being surrounded by all the people dancing to the music, while he and you remain in the middle of it all, standing in front of each other, your attentions on each other.

And his question bothers you, because it is certainly not what you expected to hear from him after so many moons apart and in which he never once explained anything to you when you needed it most.

He simply questions you about your marriage, his serious look on you, while you answer him with the same attitude and manner.

"It's none of your concern what I want, uncle. It's not like you'll care either, just like I don't care what you have to say about my wedding either."

Uncle, not Aemond, just…uncle.

All your words anger him, instantly watching you with such intensity and with his jaw clenched, leaning more towards you with that defiant look.

Then you answer him in the same way, watching him with your chin up and your serious, determined look.

"The man from the North is a good and noble man who will drive you to boredom even before you both say your vows before the Seven, so tell me niece….. do you really think he deserves you?"

"Don't tell me, uncle. Now you're going to say you're the one who deserves me?"

Aemond clenches his jaw tighter.

"You didn't let me explain."

"It was too late for your explanations, don't you think?"

"I waited for you and you never came."

"Well, now you know what it feels like to be left without explanation," you tell him in a bitter, serious tone, "Not to mention that I had to hear the news of your new betrothal afterwards."

Aemond does not take his gaze away from you for a second, not even caring that you are in public and in the open view of other people, especially his family, because at that moment for him… it is only you.

And honestly… you don't care either.

You had been waiting for this moment, nothing feeling more than satisfying than paying back the man who supposedly loved you in the same way, making him feel what you felt.

"Perhaps you would understand why I did it if you would let me explain," he tells you serious.

"No," you tell him serious and annoyed, "Your explanations I needed to hear when you broke me and left me. Not now that you're finally acting when my wedding to another man who isn't you is happening."

He watches you completely serious and attentive, while you are being more than firm with your attitude and your words, even defiant.

"So if you will excuse me… I have to find my betrothed."

Putting the matter to an end, you turn around and start walking away from him, trying to make your way through all the people around dancing.

But it's barely three steps that you advance when Aemond stops you by the arm and makes you turn on your own axis to be face to face with him again.

And Gods… he is furious.

Again you watch him defiantly, more by the fact that he holds you by the waist and pulls you completely to him, bringing another of his hands to your cheek, preventing you from running away from him again, while you watch him seriously and in expectation of his next move.

But he's not mad at the fact that you won't let him explain himself, but at your words, your betrothed.

"First I'm going to burn everything to the ground before you have a chance to marry that fucking northern man," he warns you mumbling under his breath, their faces mere inches apart.

You try to pull away from him, but he only makes his grip on your waist tighter and his grip on your cheek tighter, watching your whole face, your precious face with possession and desire, watching your lips between parted as your gaze also watches his, reprimanding yourself.

"Let me go. People are watching us."

"Then let them see," he says without a care in the world, his gaze possessive and dominant, "Let them see who you truly belong to."

You press your lips together, upset.

"You are so selfish."

"When it comes to you…you don't have a fucking idea. And I'm not going to let you go."

At that moment, both of them are indeed getting attention, but not from the noble people, but from their families.

Otto Hightower clenches his hands into fists and squeezes them tightly with a deathly stare, while Queen Alicent watches the scene in disbelief, not having the slightest idea how to fix her son's behavior.

But Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon... are only anticipating what will come next.

"If you don't let go of me I'm going to scream," you warn him between your teeth.

But at this, Aemond can only smile with a certain self-centeredness and satisfaction, as well as looking amused.

"Oh I would like to see you try, my love."

And then the next thing he does is to take you firmly by the arm and start dragging you towards the exit of the Throne Room, unnoticed among all the people dancing, while you try to put up resistance in an instant but with Aemond's strength it's impossible.

You think about screaming, as you told him you would, but causing a scandal would only be worse, so you let him lead you, who with quick steps makes sure no one follows and takes you away from all that absurd and boring feast.

But once you both leave the Room, that's when you can finally stop him and confront him.

"What are you doing!?"

"I want to explain," he insists serious.

"No!" you exclaim in annoyance, "I don't want you to explain anything! Can't you see that I can't leave my own feast? What is my betrothed going to think? And your betrothed too!?"

"I don't give a shit about your feast, your betrothed and my betrothed, now come," he says as he again puts pressure on your arm to continue to lead you away.

But you put up a resistance again.

"No! Let go of me, Aemond!"

"Don't make me repeat myself again, Y/N."

"This isn't fair!"

"Nothing is. Now stop resisting and walk," he tells you disinterested.

"You're so fucking selfish! You don't even have any idea what you really put me through and now you want to ruin my wedding because since you don't care, you think I must not care too!"

Aemond, starting to lose his patience, sighs and has no choice but to, without waiting for you, grab you and place you on his shoulder like a sack to start walking quickly away from there without further inconvenience.

"Aemond!" you exclaim in surprise and in horror.

"Are you going to behave now?"

"Put me down! Put me down this instant!"

"I don't want to."

"I have to go back! We're going to get in trouble because of you!"

"Too bad."

So the only smart thing you can think of at that moment is to keep complaining and trying to hurt him with your not so convincing closed fist punches, neither is squirming and making his job of carrying you difficult and unbearable, because simply nothing worked.

With your protests being further and further away from the Throne Room, with no one coming to your rescue, though if so they wouldn't stand a chance against Prince Aemond, he finally puts you on the ground as you enter one of the many balconies of the Keep.

"Seven fucking Hells, will you stop yelling already?"

"And what did you expect? You're taking me away from my own wedding!" you exclaim in anger.

"It's not your wedding Y/N!" he exclaims to you again serious and annoyed, "Do you really think I'm going to let you marry that fucking Stark?"

"And what about your betrothed?" you inquire instantly, incredulous, "You don't know that you can get us in trouble for this? Spare us the embarrassment, Aemond. My father must be looking for me by now and he'll put your head on a spike if he finds us."

"I don't care if your father finds us, neither does my grandsire, my mother or your betrothed," he tells you with a certain mocking, serious tone. "I don't care about any of this, Y/N. And I certainly don't care about my fucking betrothed because I'm not marrying her."

A smile and a disbelieving, absurd laugh escapes your lips, shaking your head.

"Yes, of course."

But the look Aemond gives you at that moment is a terribly honest and serious one in which he shows he's not in jest.

"I'm serious."

"Well, tell that to your grandsire," you tell him in a bitter tone, "I'm sure he'll kill you first before my father if you don't do what he or your mother tells you."

He lets out a long sigh, tearing his gaze away from yours for a moment, running one of his hands across his chin.

"Y/N—

"Why are you doing this?" you interrupt him seriously, annoyed, your skin burning and all the discomfort coursing through your body, "Why now that I am about to marry Lord Cregan? Why not before when you left me with no explanation and crying for you with the thought of your soon to be wedding to Lady Baratheon?"

"Nothing I did to you was my intention, Y/N," he implores you, earnest and honest, "Nothing was my choice, I never meant to end our betrothal."

"Then why?" you spit at him, "Is it that you don't want to see me marry someone else but I'm not going to marry you either?"

"Because the war will soon be upon us," he tells you in an instant, serious and seriously needing at that moment to explain himself, not wanting you to hate him more by listening to his reasons, "We all know that my father may die at any moment. And when that happens… the war between our families will begin."

You frown, shaking your head slightly.

"Now what are you talking about?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," he says taking a few more steps towards you, "Your mother is the Heir, we know that, but still… she is a woman and she will have a lot of people against her by the time comes."

"Many people or your mother and grandsire specifically?" you ask him expectantly.

Aemond lets out a long breath.

"Aegon is the first born son, everyone will expect him to be the next King."

"Aegon is a fucking drunk who doesn't even care about the Throne, Aemond!"

You exclaim absurdly to him, sick of this.

"He has said countless times that he is not interested in the crown and does not want to rule, but it is your grandsire who keeps insisting and wanting to take total control of everything on his own whim and for his own ambition, denigrating my mother knowing very well that my grandsire has named her Heir and has never, not even consciously, said that he wishes Aegon to succeed him! " you tell him incredulously, "And not only him, your mother is also against mine, letting herself be led by everything your grandsire tells her."

"And what is going to happen when your mother sits on the Throne, hmm?" he inquires you as well, "She can order to kill me and all my family because of the pressure of the people by having not only one, but three sons of the King, where none succeeded the crown."

All the confusion invades your face instantly, staring at him in disbelief and as if you can't believe it for even him, Aemond Targaryen, being the intelligent man he is, to think such a thing, about to retort but he continues to speak.

"Do you really think that even so if we had married, your family and I would begin to get along?"

He inquires you, incredulously and your breath catches.

"It's not that I don't want to Y/N, it's that I can't. What kind of sister cares more about some supposed lies to a maimed eye? If she had no sympathy for me at the time, less will she have for when the people reveal themselves against her and she wants to secure her Throne."

"Seven Hells," you mutter incredulously.

"I know Aegon isn't cut out to rule, but at least with him on the Throne he secures my life, Helaena's, Daeron's and my niece and nephew's."

"So is the idea of me and my entire family being killed better?" you ask him bitterly, "All this nonsense is what your grandsire and mother have been telling you all this time? Turning you, my uncles and my aunt against your own sister? Don't you realize how sick with ambition and power that is? Is this why you canceled our betrothal?"

You don't need to hear the answer to that, you already know it. But he only confirms it when he doesn't say anything to you and with a sorrowful look, looks away from you for a moment, to which you don't know whether to laugh or cry.

You honestly can't believe it.

You knew that Otto Hightower hates your entire family but not with such fervor to the point of interfering in his own grandson's life, not giving him the chance to truly marry for love.

And destroying his thoughts about you and your mother for his own ideologies and for his own lust for power to put Aegon on the Throne.

Otto is even capable of turning all the common people against your mother out of envy, not only being enough to marry his only daughter to the king, taking advantage of the pain of others and securing his position even more.

You truly hate that man and also Alicent Hightower for letting himself get led and turn his children against his own sister with lies, being that she once loved your mother and yet was led by her father to hate her simply because of her freedom to be princess and being named by the king the Heir to the Throne.

"My mother has never, not even when she was named Heir and Aegon was born, thought in such a way about you."

You make it clear to her in a serious and more than offended voice.

"All she has wanted has been, even since you and I were children, to keep the peace between our families, even proposing to marry Jace to Hel and give you a dragon egg to you, but your mother turned her down at every opportunity because of your grandsire disgusting ideas."

You tell him annoyed, serious.

"She couldn't even recently stand the thought of marrying you to me, blinded by hatred and feeding you too that same hatred to hate her. And I understand what happened years ago, I understand that my mother is not to your liking, but she truly regrets having acted as she did in understanding your mother's position, she being the first to support us with our betrothal," you remind him in a bitter tone.

Aemond watches you completely attentively, without saying anything, with his lips pressed together.

"So tell me Aemond…. if she really plans to kill you and your entire family, then why would she go to the effort of uniting our families and supporting our betrothal?" you inquire, "Do you think it's all a strategy? Because I assure you that my mother with all she has to deal with in Court, being judged at every turn for being a woman, especially by your grandsire, would not waste herself with all those attempts to ultimately become a kinslayer."

And then… Aemond feels as if a huge weight has fallen on his stomach, leaving him for a moment without air.

He continues to watch you with a expressionless gaze, when inside he is thinking completely about your words, while you watch him firmly for your words, knowing perfectly well that you are right.

And that's the truth, Aemond also thinks you are right.

Kinslayer.

A sin.

A word and an action that makes you a disgrace to the entire Targaryen dynasty. A curse to your name and in which you will be remembered forever, as Visenya Targaryen was once called, though this is only a supposition.

But this word Aemond knows really well, as do you from the stories. And considering your mother's position and the one who will become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, you know that your mother could never be called that if she is truly committed to her reign.

And she is, you know your mother really is and Aemond knows it too, despite how much that makes him furious, but for his grandsire and his mother's ideas, reminding him that then Lucerys inherits all of Driftmark and he... inherits nothing.

Or at least, now he inherits nothing.

For had he married you, you being the second born daughter of the Heir, Dragonstone is your castle and that would have been home to both of you.

Aemond considers that Rhaenyra can probably have them killed… accidentally as well.

But you… seeing you now in front of him after so many moons apart and after all that happened, he still trusts you and really believes in what you have told him.

What purpose would Rhaenyra really have had in marrying her daughter to her half-brother and then killing him? It doesn't make any sense.

And just as every mother cares for the happiness of her children, Aemond knows he was your happiness and your mother would never do that to you. And you… seeing that he says absolutely nothing to you, you can only watch him with a somewhat satisfied look, nodding slightly in his direction.

"That's what I thought," you mutter to him without much emotion.

And the next thing you do, you turn away from him and start heading towards the balcony exit to return to your feast, leaving him behind, assuming you've already said everything you wanted to say to each other. But again Aemond doesn't let you go so easily and stops you.

"I want to wed you."

And to your bad luck, you really can't put up any resistance and turn to him again, with a bitter look on your face and feeling again what it might have been when you heard his words.

"You were already going to wed me, remember?"

"All right, you're right,' he tells you serious, letting out a long sigh, "I should not have done what I did to you, I should not have listened to my grandsire words, nor should I have accepted my betrothal to the daughter of Lord Borros."

"It is too late now, Aemond."

"I'm not marrying her, Y/N."

"Oh and you're seriously going to go against your grandsire?" you inquire not really believing it.

"I don't fucking care about my grandsire, Y/N!" he insists annoyed, quickly heading towards you, "He can fuck himself as well as his alliance with Lord Borros, I really don't care about him and neither do I care about my mother. All I want, all I've ever wanted… is you."

You snort, turning your gaze away from him for a moment, to again stare at him incredulously.

"And what is going to happen when the King dies?"

You ask, expectantly.

"Now you know that my mother has never thought nor will she ever harm you, your brothers, let alone Hel or her children, besides she is the true Heir… who assures me that the first thing you will do is support the right side and not support the idea of usurping my mother?" you question him, "Do you think I want you and I to live at war too? That we will eventually start hating each other by supporting two different sides?

"And what do you want me to do, Y/N?" he asks you in the same way, "I understand about my brothers and Helaena, but who assures me that your mother won't go for mine's head? She is my mother after all, I can't leave her alone."

"She won't do anything to your mother, Aemond!" you exclaim in exasperation, "The two of them loved each other as children, my mother hasn't forgotten how much she held her in high esteem in spite of everything and you think she would dare to hurt her? Think Aemond and forget everything your grandsire has told you!" you exclaim, "It is your grandsire who is doing all this, separating us, creating rivalry and hatred, it is for him that my mother will go if he does something against her, not for anyone else."

You make it more than clear to him while Aemond says nothing for a few seconds, watching and listening to you attentively, to which you continue to watch him without understanding, to then let out a long sigh and deny with your head.

"Still none of this matters, I have to go back," you tell him without much emotion to resume your way.

But again Aemond reacts and stops you by taking you firmly by the arm as he turns you towards him and holds you by the waist.

He pulls you completely towards him, while he places another of his hands on your cheek and brings his face dangerously close to yours, surprising you by such closeness and stealing your breath.

"Aemond," you say in a whisper.

You show him that this is wrong, but he doesn't mind at all, on the contrary, he brings his face closer to yours.

His breath hits your face, watching you again with that possession and that desire, completely attentive to your face, your beautiful face, while you don't understand anything but you know that if you try to pull away, he won't let you.

Although again you feel all that you used to feel before when he was courting you, realizing that you have never really stopped feeling this way for him, scaring you and making you feel disappointed because again… you must do your duty and so must he.

However, you can't help but feel really desired by him, just like before, all these thoughts invading you as you want to be his, just as you also want him to be yours, watching his face and lips intently unconsciously, unable to resist.

But this is wrong, completely wrong.

"What do I have to do, Issa jorrāelagon, to put all this behind so that you will agree to marry me?"

He murmurs more than willing on your lips, not letting go of you for a second, not willing to let go of you for a second, being terribly honest with you, this immediately catching your attention and again stealing your breath.

But it's not just his words, it's him, everything about him.

His face, his figure, his grip on you, so fucking alluring and attractive, which is what you hate but at the same time is also your weakness of him.

And despite that, despite the fact that even though you don't want to, you're slowly giving in to him, yet you still have some willpower and you don't just think about yourself, you can still think about the other people there at the feast.

"I-I can't," you look at him sadly, "Cregan Sta—

"Y/N."

He stops you making your grip on your waist tighter and his gaze more determined, really not wanting you to talk about him and wanting you to focus right now, on you,

"Just tell me what I have to do and so I will do it. Just tell me."

He insists and you… hesitate.

You haven't the slightest idea what to do.

"If I were him and I was watching the woman I love marrying someone else… I would wish things in my favor and no matter what, I would take her away from here and marry her in a heartbeat."

You remember Lord Cregan's words, as you continue to watch Aemond in front of you intently.

"I am already prepared for whatever you choose to do."

"All men are selfish, I include myself. But the decision is always up to you, the woman I love and all women."

"I will know your decision soon, princess. I will be here waiting."

Basically Lord Cregan Stark… was understanding with you and will already be prepared… if you choose this.

If you choose Aemond too, in the same way he has already chosen you over his family and his betrothed.

Then you think of your family, your mother and father, who will probably be very disappointed in you if you do not return and marry Lord Cregan, losing a great and important alliance with the man who owns the whole North.

But you remember what your mother was willing to do many years ago, when she was in the same position as you are now with Aemond, who completely forgot about the alliance and thought of her, her happiness, by asking the man she really loves to steal her away and take her to Dragonstone to marry her.

Now, knowing the history of your ancestors, how some of them chose love over duty, why shouldn't you do the same?

"Let my mother know what your grandsire is planning, avoid war," you tell him finally, "Kneel to her and swear your sword to her if you truly love me and if you wish me to marry you now."

In other circumstances, Aemond would have thought you are asking too much of him, but now that you both already know the truth, you his and he your mother's through you, he understands your point and thinks it is fair.

And if this is what he has to do so that you are finally his and he can finally call you his wife, which is all he has ever wanted, then so he will.

"Anything else?"

He gently caresses your cheek with his thumb and you, knowing with that his response, knowing that this is what he will do, finally stop feeling tense and let yourself be completely led by him, leaning into his body and his touch, feeling how slowly that weight on your shoulders disappears.

Just as you also Aemond feels that guilt stop invading him and finally now that he has you, he feels safe, loved and at peace.

"Promise me you won't break my heart again," you murmur against his lips.

Aemond gently shakes his head, leaning down to leave soft kisses on your cheek, starting a little trail, making you let out a sigh and place your arms around his torso, finally feeling you too at peace, having really missed this.

"Never again," he finally murmurs in your ear, sending shivers throughout your body and sounding like a promise.

Everyone in the Throne Room begins to look uneasy when one of your guards that your mother sent to look for you returns and whispers in his and your father's ears that you have disappeared.

Immediately Princess Rhaenyra glances at Queen Alicent, who is already watching her and instantly understands what is happening, turning quickly to her father with an alarmed and worried face as they and in fact everyone at the table also notice the absence of Prince Aemond.

The fact of this news does not really go unnoticed as your father immediately orders his entire guard to search for you throughout the Keep, at the same time Otto Hightower also orders them to find his grandson.

Your brothers and sisters, as well as your mother have an idea of who you are with, considering he too is nowhere to be found.

While Princess Helaena in the center of the Room begins to hear the murmurs of all the nobles, especially the ladys as they watch the entire royal family curiously, wondering if the bride has disappeared, also watching Cregan Stark out of the corner of their eyes.

Cregan Stark also watches everyone around him curiously, as the news begins to spread quickly throughout the Room, earning the sorrowful glances of all the lords.

And when Cregan finally understands what is going on, just as he had told Princess Y/N, he was already prepared and immediately turns to look at Lady Alysanne, who looks at him in surprise and disbelief.

Prince Aegon continues to drink wine completely amused by the whole situation, really feeling proud of his brother, delighting in his grandsire's behavior and reaction.

Princess Rhaenyra rises from her seat and looks with her bewildered gaze at her husband, who watches her seriously but at the same time with a certain resignation.

"I told you this would happen," he tells her as everything continues to be chaos in the Room.

"Shall we go to them?"

Prince Daemon lets out a long breath, clutching Dark Sister's pommel that hangs at his hip.

"She and especially he better have a good excuse."

Your mother and father get the idea and are sure that's what you and Aemond are doing now and Alicent and Otto Hightower as well, feeling horrified at the idea compared to your parents.

But before Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra set off, it is first the duty of both of them to bring order to the Throne Room and talk to Lord Stark, who doesn't really look bothered by anything, before going to find you and Aemond.

When the news that Otto didn't want to hear, reaches his ears, and that is that your dragon Silverwing has left DragonPit and they also saw Vhagar flying away in the skies some time ago.

Meanwhile in Dragonstone… considering Kings Landing is not far away and it's quick dragonback travel, you and Aemond are finally joining blood.

All the emotion comes over you, really everything being in favor of both of you calling a Septon who has been at your family's disposal all the time you have lived in Dragonstone, who agreed to perform the ceremony, while the maidservants brought you both the clothes your mother and father wore when they also had their Valyrian wedding.

And now being here with Aemond, it's really happening.

He holds Dragonglass in his hand as the Septon begins to recite the correct words in Valyrian, about to join his blood with yours, being just as excited as you are, but dissimulating a little more.

"Hen lantoti ānogar"

Blood of two

"Va sȳndroti vāedroma"

Joined as one

Aemond directs the blade to your lips to slightly cut your bottom lip, then you also do the same with him and so then both of you bring your thumb to the bleeding part and place blood on each other's foreheads.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti."

Ghostly flame

"Elēdroma iārza sīr."

And song of shadows

"Izulī ampā perzī."

Two hearts as embers

Then you both cut the palm of one of your hands with the blade, and then join the two cut hands so that the blood begins to drip and fall into the chalice in the middle of both of you.

All the while you watch with a small smile on your lips, really not believing that this is finally happening, while Aemond watches you with adoration in his eyes, with a barely visible small smile on his lips.

"Prūmī lanti sēteksi."

Forged in fourteen fires

"Hen jenȳ māzīlarion."

A future promised in glass

Once the chalice is considerably full, both drink from each other's blood, as is the tradition of Old Valyria.

"Qēnlossa ozūndessi."

The stars stand as witness

"Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo."

The vow spoken through time

"Rȳ kīva mazvestraksi."

Of darkness and light

And finally you both permanently seal your wedding and your love with a kiss, finally being husband and wife.

After that, you lead your now husband to your chamber, where as soon as Aemond closes the door behind him, you perfectly understand that look on his face, one of complete desire and in which you barely have time to react as he pulls you to him with force and kisses you with need.

If you didn't feel the same way he does, you would have asked him to slow down… but you are just as desperate and completely crave his touch, to feel him, to become one.

"I'm not going to let you rest, ābrazȳrys. Not now that I finally have you," he promises you in the midst of kissing, beginning to remove your clothes.

"Nyke jaelagon ao, valzȳrys," you murmur against his lips.

I want you, husband.

And Aemond completely delights in your word, husband… being everything he wanted to hear you say to him.

He again devours your lips like a man possessed, not having enough, needing more, not believing he will stop anytime soon, not caring that the whole castle hears your moans, wanting to hear you say his name, just his name, all the time.

Soon both of you are already in your bed, you completely naked, while Aemond just needs to take off his pants, the sight of his naked torso turning you completely delighted, his worked body being another of your weaknesses.

You begin to moan and sigh as Aemond begins to bite and suck on your nipples, completely kneading your breasts with both hands, his two large hands in firm, possessive motions.

You breathe fast, feeling the pleasure invade you, needing more, as well as your juices beginning to drip between your legs.

"Aemond," you gasp, pulling his face closer to your chest.

"Does it feel good?" he asks you in a whisper, licking your flesh, making you moan louder.

"Yes, yes, it feels so good."

Aemond smiles against your skin, then descends one of his hands, spreading your legs wider and touching your most sensitive part, your entire nerve core with his fingers. You arch and moan in complete arousal, as he strokes you up and down being easier for him because of your wet folds.

"Fuck," he murmurs, biting your breasts.

"Aemond!" you moan.

He pulls his face away from your breasts and focuses on your face never ceasing to skillfully move his fingers, delighting even more in your expressions and your lovely face, as he feels his entire manhood hard and in need of attention.

"What? You need me to prepare you properly, my wife?"

"Yes," you gasp, "Yes, please," you look at him pleadingly.

"What exactly do you need, princess?"

"Aemond," you sigh, your whole face contorted in pleasure.

"Do you need this?"

His middle finger enters you, making you sigh and gasp harder, pulling Aemond closer to you.

"Yes, yes, I need it so much," you say as best you can.

Aemond smirks again, kissing your lips, silencing your sounds for a moment, continuing to move his finger in the ideal way inside you, making you sigh, gasp and moan just as he needs.

"You look so pretty like this," he murmurs against your lips.

Without warning, he adds a second finger, which makes you squirm and begin to wiggle your hips against his hand, needing more, as Aemond kisses and marks the skin of your neck, bringing his other hand to one of your breasts, squeezing it and making you gasp more.

"You're going to feel so good around my cock, my beautiful wife," he murmurs in your ear.

Aemond in his fantasies has always wanted to taste you, just as he has always wanted to know how it would feel to have your lips around him, how pretty you would look, completely at his disposal, wanting to make him happy in just the same way he wants to make you happy.

But now… he really doesn't want to wait any longer. He needs to be inside you, now.

Considering you'll have more nights like this, everything he wants to do to you can wait, so without further ado he pulls away and stops touching you, instantly getting your attention, but you watch as he quickly gets rid of his shoes and pants, needing to free himself.

And when you see it, excitement and terror run through you at the same time.

You don't know if he will fully enter you, his size really scaring you, as Aemond watches your reaction completely proud of himself, leaning back into you as he makes his way between your legs.

"I need this, so much," he murmurs against your lips, kissing you, as with one of his hands he strokes himself.

"Take me, husband," you ask gasping, "Take me now."

Then Aemond's gaze turns dark and utterly possessive.

"You are mine, aren't you?"

"I am yours. Completely yours."

"You want me to fill you with my seed? Do you need it as much as I do?"

"Yes, yes, I need it, please," you ask, "Do it, Issa jorrāelagon."

Aemond doesn't need to listen anymore, he places his manhood at your entrance and slowly begins to thrust, while you press your lips together to avoid screaming too loudly and close your eyes tightly, feeling him open you completely as a pain and burning that is not at all pleasant washes over you.

"Shh, shh, my sweet wife," Aemond quickly comforts you, hugging and kissing you gently, stopping himself, "It's all right, all right. Tell me when I can move."

"It hurts," you murmur back, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

"I know, I know, it just happens at first, then it will feel good, I promise," he assures you softly to then kiss you again, taking all the time he needs with you, really not wanting to hurt you.

He distracts you by again caressing you, either touching your breasts, licking your nipples and also bringing one of his hands back to your nerve core, making you feel again the pleasure of before, without him moving inside you even an inch, waiting for you to get used to it.

When without realizing it, you again begin to moan and pleasure begins to run through your body, not even when Aemond cautiously begins to move inside you again, until all of him is inside.

That same pain and discomfort returns, but to a lesser extent. And when Aemond begins to gently move back and forth, you sigh and let your head fall back, finally feeling good.

At that, Aemond begins to take more confidence and moves his hips faster, each thrust being a wave of pleasure, causing you to cling completely to him and sigh between his face and neck.

"You like it just like that, my love?"

"Yes, Aemond, just like that," you murmur in his ear, delighted.

"Can I go faster?" he asks you in a growl.

"Yes, yes, it's all right."

Then Aemond adopts a new motion, faster and deeper this time, making you moan loudly again as he grunts and delights in each thrust, feeling you clench around him and your juices filling him completely making the penetration faster.

He holds you by the waist and penetrates you faster, bringing his mouth to your breasts again, marking all over your skin, never stopping moving, as you feel something start to grow inside you and need to be released.

Just like what he is feeling too.

That one night he doesn't just spill his seed inside you once, he does it more times, in different positions, as you both touch and caress each other, seeming like you can't get enough, Aemond telling you in your ear over and over again how much he loves you.

Until eventually you both finish and the next morning, you feel a satisfied tingle between your legs, as Aemond for the first time after a long time, feels good about himself, needing no more as he holds you in his arms, both of you still naked and resting from the intense and long night you shared.

You both wake up fully and prepare for the day, both knowing very well that you both have to go back to Kings Landing to face the consequences of your actions. But now that you're both married, neither you nor he really cares much, as long as you're together.

You finish breakfast, everything still feeling like a dream, a dream you really don't want to wake up from, when you hear the roar of dragons in the sky.

You immediately exchange a glance with Aemond, as the two of you watch through your windows and your mother's golden dragon along with your father's red dragon make themselves seen on the island.

You both knew this would happen, so you were already prepared, and truly not wanting to argue because everything is already done, they both leave the chamber and head out to greet your mother and father, the two of them mentioned ready to demand an explanation.

But before Prince Daemon explodes in anger at his nephew, the words and his action are completely forgotten when your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, watches as her half-brother takes his sword and kneels before her.

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