#With her marriage was the one seen as a bit odd

[myechoecho]

Watch the first two episodes of When the Phone Rings and where has something like this been ALL year in kdramaland???

There is something delicious about how Sa Eon and Hee Joo are both in communication yet have zero communication with one another. I love that she told him off at the party in sign language knowing he would not understand. The fact that she's been quietly defying him this entire time and he's only just realizing it now.

Did I suspect that Hee Joo was not actually mute? Absolutely. It would have been more surprising if she was mute. However, I was floored when it was revealed that Hee Joo had the phone and was using it to taunt Sa Eon in a moment of sheer rage and hurt. The utter betrayal she feels because he told the kidnapper to go ahead an kill her then he has the nerve to say at the party she is his weakness what just too much for her. I fully support this deranged and brilliant move.

Now we get this bizarre flirtation between the two, with them weirdly learning more about the other all through the voice modulated cell phone that Hee Joo swiped. . Hee Joo taunting him with all he doesn't know about her. Sa Eon learning he does not know about Hee Joo and then becoming determined to learn about her. Though that, Hee Joo learning that he actually does care and probably always did. This is what is going to push them together.

Though for someone that says they are in absolute control of everything, it's slightly odd that Sa Eon would not learn sign language. Like what if she was telling the ambassador that she is being held hostage and needs help? I guess she's been isolated and hidden enough to not matter. Even the way he "confirmed" how she was home in order for him to say to the kidnapper to kill her was a bit lazy.

At the same time, there was clearly some nagging doubt that Sa Eon had. He was very much relieved that she was safe. He was also absolutely furious to learn that the kidnapping was real as seen by his bloody knuckles. Not sure why he thought he knew her when they did not speak through their 3 year marriage, but now it's driving him nuts to know that there are pieces of her he simply does not understand. He is going to rectify that.

I am very curious as to how their marriage came to be. The reveal at the end that it was Sa Eon to suggest the bride swap seemingly to save Hee Joo from marriage to a terrible person. Even though he is cold and indifferent to her and literally called her a hostage so it's still not a great situation for Hee Joo to be in. I have a strong suspicion that person texting Sa Eon was Hee Joo, and NOT her sister. The language used in the text is identical to the language Hee Joo used in the present to threaten Sa Eon.

If I am right about this, that opens up so many questions. Why did Hee Joo want to stop the marriage? Where is her sister? Did her sister know? What secrets of Sa Eon's family did Hee Joo know? Why did Sa Eon suggest the bride swap after leaning Hee Joo was to be married? Did he always care for her? Why did Hee Joo agree to this marriage, since the person on the other end of the text was obviously thrown by the suggestion? We know that Hee Joo's mom/step mom uses her father to manipulate her so that probably plays a role but is there more to it?

Clearly the kidnapper is also going to make a reappearance since he's not going to let all his carefully laid plans go to waste. The preview for the next episode has me excited. And Hee Joo and Sa Eon have bucket loads of chemistry.

I will end with my now obligatory rant on how this show should be 16 episodes. At least it's 12 episodes since those shows tend to work a bit better than the ones that are 10 eps or less. But I am still bitter about the episode count.

[aeolianblues]

Amatonormativity is relatively easy to live with until you’re like 25. Any other aspec folks constantly on the verge of worrying they’ll be ‘found out’ to be a faulty human being, failing those ‘basic, normal’ life milestones?

In a keep reading bc I can’t use more than 30 tags but I gotta yap at 4 AM:

in tags bc she sometimes reads my blog + it’s not really my story to share but I spent2 hours on call consoling my best friend. Her bf broke up with her— she blames herself. She was willing to essentially try and solve her boy’s depression bc she thought he was the one. It broke her heart that he didn’t want to go through that along with her (put her through that). And she says I’m unlovable; I’ll never find a partner; I’ll die alone; I wish I was different. And… this is one of my favourite people in the world. There’s nothing I can do to help. All I can do is offer comforting one liners about being enough— I will never experience that. All this while I want to say something from wisdom; from experience

I am very out to her— probs like the second ever person to know I was ace when I found out. And I feel like a fraud. I will never feel like someone is The One. I float on unanchored. It’s funny how the expectation of a shared human experience can push you back into a transparent closet. You can see me in there. You know what’s inside. And yet I’m in a closet again.

rest in tags bc it’s now under 30 I imagine

[adispit]

Hiyaaa can I ask for Ayato from Genshin with a kitsune reader who steals pieces of his clothing as a secret crush on him but one day Ayato catches them and punishes them.

A Punishment ?

Ayato x kitsune! bttm male reader

Content warnings: spanking, anal tongue fucking (receiving), overstimulation, rough sex, creampie , slight predator prey dynamic (if you squint), slight dubcon because reader wasn’t really into the spanking at the start

Note: This fic has been marinating in my inbox for 2 weeks so I hope you enjoy! Also I haven’t played Genshin in a year so this might be a tad bit ooc 😭. Enjoy!

You had always been someone in the background, shadowed and sheltered under the protection of your sister, Guuji Yaemiko. Few to none knew of your actual existence as centuries passed, except for the Raiden Shogun and the clans themselves. Her influence stretched far, wrapping around you like a protective veil.

The Shrine was your haven, but also your cage. Every decision, every move you made, was watched, controlled. It was always for your safety, she would say. The sister who would tease and always play you like a fiddle to her silly whims became firm and unmovable when it came to exploring beyond the Inazuman city. You had been sheltered from the harsh realities of the world, never given the freedom to truly explore it. Yet, that defiant streak within you had only grown stronger. You didn’t want protection. You wanted to live.

However, what your sister could not shield you from was unforeseen. A little crush you had harboured for the Yashiro Commissioner himself, Kamisato Ayato. A man who carried himself with grace and power — a man who like your sister, commanded respect wherever he went. The very man that made the Kamisato name arise from its ashes and make it the prestigious clan today. As much as you hated to admit it, you were nothing better than those maidens who chased after him relentlessly for marriage offers. It stung to think of yourself in that way, to admit that you were drawn to him with the same intensity that they were.

It wasn’t just his power or his elegance. It was the way he moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, the sharpness in his gaze that made you feel seen even when you wished to remain hidden. You were drawn to him with a fascination that bordered on obsession, an allure that you couldn’t shake off no matter how hard you tried. Due of your crush, you found yourself resorting to a silly yet strangely satisfying ritual—stealing Ayato’s clothes. It was an odd way to cope with the intense feelings you harbored for him, but it was the only outlet you could manage. Each stolen item, whether a glove, a ribbon, or a sash, became a cherished possession, a physical connection to him that you could hold onto.

Each piece of clothing was a wishful reminder of him—a way to keep a part of him close, even if you could never have him completely. You would fold his garments carefully, press them to your face, and imagine the moments he had worn them, his scent of sandalwood and rain with the lingering warmth, It was your own secret fantasy. It was harmless really. A secret way of indulging in the hopeless crush you’d harbored for the head of the Kamisato clan.

However, tonight, the air felt different—charged with something you couldn’t quite place. Strangely, there weren’t any guards present that were on patrol. The estate was quiet. A little too quiet.

Still, you pressed on.

The thought of what you were about to do made your fox ears twitch in excitement. Ayato’s chambers were silent as you nudged the door open, the dim light of a single candle casting long shadows over the room.

You crept inside, eyes scanning for something to take. His haori lay draped neatly over a chair, and without hesitation, you reached for it. The silk fabric slipped through your fingers, smooth and cool to the touch. Your breath caught in your throat as you brought it close, imagining, just for a moment, what it would feel like to be wrapped in it—surrounded by him. The thought made your cheeks warm, but you pushed it away, carefully folding the haori over your arm.

It was a ridiculous thought, you knew that.

You allowed yourself a small smile. Another successful heist, another piece of him to add to your collection. You moved toward the door, your escape clear and easy.

But as you turned, something stopped you.

A faint rustle. Barely a sound, but enough to make your ears twitch with alert. You froze, eyes darting toward the corner of the room. Nothing.

You waited, heart racing in your chest, every instinct telling you to bolt but curiosity kept you rooted in place. Slowly, you scanned the room again, your gaze lingering on the bed. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes landed on a figure sitting in the shadows.

Ayato.

He was leaning casually against the headboard of his bed, his body bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. His lavender eyes, sharp and calculating, met yours with a calm intensity. Those eyes were striking—like shards of amethyst, reflecting the light in a way that made them almost glow. They watched you with a calm amusement, though the glint in them suggested he was far more aware of the situation than you were.

Your heart raced as you took in his appearance. His long, pale blue hair was neatly tied back, save for a few loose strands that framed his angular face. The moonlight accentuated his porcelain skin, making him look almost ethereal, like something out of a dream. Yet there was nothing soft about the way he held himself—he stood with a quiet strength, the grace of a nobleman who knew his power.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” His voice was smooth, almost melodic, but there was an edge to it. It sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, clutching the haori tightly. Ayato’s tall, lean frame was still relaxed, but every movement he made was deliberate. His long fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the bed as he spoke, drawing attention to his hands—hands that could command armies or, in this case, one mischievous kitsune.

“I… I didn’t mean—”

Ayato’s lips curled into a faint smirk, revealing a glimpse of his sharp wit. “Didn’t mean to what?” He interrupted, stepping forward, the soft rustle of his clothing barely audible. “You seem to have a habit of taking things that don’t belong to you,” he murmured, his voice low, smooth, and far too calm.

“Lord Ayato,” You squeaked softly, ears flattening as you clutched the fabric in your hands. He approached, slowly, the air between you charged with something you couldn’t name. “What were you planning to do with this, hm?” He gestured toward the ribbon in your hand, his voice soft but laced with authority. “Stealing from me, Yae Miko’s brother no less… What would she say?”

You bristled at the mention of your sister, but there was no escape now. “I just wanted—”

“To see if I’d notice?” Ayato finished for you, his amusement deepening as he tilted his head slightly. His eyes never left yours as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. Up close, you could see the slight tension in his jaw, the quiet authority he carried in every word.

His hand reached out, brushing lightly against the fabric of the haori. “I noticed,” he whispered, his voice sending a thrill down your spine. His fingers grazed yours, cool to the touch yet searing with the unspoken threat of control.

Ayato’s smile was small but devastatingly confident. “But there’s a price to pay for stealing from the Yashiro Commissioner.”

Your heart raced as he stepped even closer, the close proximity making your tail swish back and forth with nervousness and anticipation. “And I think you know what that means.”

“Get on your knees,” he commanded, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You hesitated for just a moment, but the look in his eyes—dark, intense, and utterly unyielding—was enough to make you comply. Your legs gave way almost instinctively as you dropped to your knees, your heart pounding in your chest. The rush of adrenaline coursing through you drowned out everything except the sound of your own breathing, loud and uneven in your ears.

He took another step, his movements so fluid that his bare feet made no sound on the hardwood floor, as though he was one with the shadows. You could feel the heat radiating from him even before he stood directly in front of you, the faint scent of sandalwood and rain lingering in the air—intoxicating and impossible to ignore.

A slow, deliberate smirk tugged at the corners of his lips—a smirk that sent a thrill of both fear and excitement rushing through your body. The expression was playful, yet there was something undeniably dangerous in it, like he was silently toying with you, fully aware of the power he held over you. Up close, you could see the cool, detached amusement in his eyes—like a predator toying with prey, knowing full well you were already caught in his web.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. You hesitated again, but the silent disapproving look in his eyes was enough to make you move. You stood up slowly, your hands trembling as you began to undress. Reluctantly, your robes slipped off, leaving you stark naked and cold, shivering in the cold night air. Truth to be told, you were a virgin, never having the chance to even have a sexual outlet besides from fingering yourself and masturbating on rare occasions when your sister wasn’t at the shrine. Even with your crush on Ayato, you were rather reluctant and admittedly, a tad bit fearful.

He watched you, his expression unreadable, but the fire in his piercing eyes made your skin tingle with anticipation. That calm, calculating gaze burned with something primal even though his face remained impassive. When you were done, he simply gestured for you to turn around. You hesitated briefly, but his silent command left no room for question.

Your heart pounded as you moved, his authoritative presence looming behind you. “Hands on the bed,” he demanded, his voice brushing dangerously close to your ear. The soft, commanding tone sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, making you feel small beneath him.

You obeyed, placing your palms flat against the cool surface of the futon. The fabric felt grounding under your trembling fingers. You could hear him moving, the quiet rustle of his robes as he adjusted himself, his body heat brushing ever closer. The air between you felt electric, charged with tension, until—

Without warning, the first blow landed hard across your ass. The sharp, stinging pain rippled through you like a wave. You gasped, your body jerking forward from the sudden impact, your tail instinctively going taut. The burning sensation lingered, intensifying with every passing second, until all you could do was grip the sheets, struggling to steady yourself against the onslaught.

“Ayato, I don’t think I want to — Ah!”

He wasn’t done.

The second blow came even harder, the sharp impact sending a jolt of pain through your body. This time, you couldn’t suppress the cry that escaped your lips, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs. You bit down hard on your lip, the metallic taste of blood faint on your tongue as you fought back the tears threatening to spill over.

“Count,” he ordered, his voice dangerously calm. “And call me Sir. Stay still,” he added, the warning in his tone unmistakable, “Or this will be even worse.”

You could feel the power in his command, the unspoken promise that he wouldn’t tolerate disobedience.

“Two, Sir,” you whispered, your voice trembling, doing your best to remain still despite the lingering sting.

The next few blows came in quick succession, each one more painful than the last. Your ass was on fire, the pain mingling with the arousal that was building inside you. You could feel yourself getting hard, your body betraying you as it responded to the punishment. The next few blows came in quick succession, each one landing harder than the last. Your skin burned, a searing pain spreading across your ass with every strike, and it felt like your entire body was on fire.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and no matter how hard you fought them back, they kept coming, blurring your vision. You mutely counted the blows between occasional cries of pain and ragged gasps for air. The room spun around you, the sensation too much, too fast.

Each smack to the ass only intensified your horror at your arousal and your arousal. You could feel your dick twitching and getting stiffer as the pain resonated throughout your body. Precum was beginning to pool beneath your cock as the electric sting that the pain brought felt even more pleasurable than the last.

“T-ten,” you whispered shakily, your hands gripping the sheets as you struggled to keep from collapsing under the pressure. Finally, he paused, giving you a moment of respite to catch your breath. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, the tension in your body slowly unwinding as the sting of the blows lingered. Your skin was still ablaze with the aftermath.

You could feel his hand resting lightly on your back, his fingers brushing against your skin in stark contrast to the harshness of his earlier actions. The touch was almost tender, a strange gentleness that sent a confusing wave of emotions through you.

Suddenly, with a swift motion, you found yourself turned around, now facing him. Despite the harsh punishment you had endured, you felt your heart race and then falter as the close proximity of Ayato became overwhelming. Your traitorous tail, betraying your true feelings, swished involuntarily with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

However that did not distract him from the hard on you sported, much to your embarrassment. His slender hand crept down your body and dwarfed your cock. He rhythmically rubbed your length, making you shudder and feel the sparks and the familiar hum of pleasure beginning to ignite.

“Yes,” you gasped as Ayato purposefully tightened his grip around your sensitive tip, never stopping his pace, “Oh—fuck—” as that mischievous hand closed around you, there was a playful air about Ayato as he let out a soft melodic laugh while mumbling something under his breath and then shifting his grip.

The next slide up was a tight, demanding fist. You threw your head back.

“Does that feel good, (Name)?” There was an amused lilt in his voice that made you flush head to toe.

The rush of blood and desire to a point low in your stomach was overwhelming. The movement was growing slicker, better , so tempting to lean fully into. You had never been this turned on.

“I don’t know, ” you cried through a strangled whine, you felt Ayato’s laughter directly through your skin, and somehow that made him suddenly very close.

There was something so exciting and arousing about it the way the man you had dreamt about, the very Yashiro Commissioner, himself was helping pleasure you. The very thought had you moaning, once, and falling slack like a puppet with cut strings. 

You were gently pushed back onto your back against the soft surface of the futon with both your legs are hoisted up, hanging against Ayato’s shoulders. Your body folded in half as you saw his head buried in your thighs, goosebumps rising on your skin as your tail hairs brushed against his chin.

“Ayato?!” You struggled for the commissioner to release his grasp on your legs, but to no avail, as he tightened his grip to hold you still. You flushed red in embarrassment, the thought of Ayato seeing everything too much to bear. 

And then you felt something warm and slimy breach past the ring of muscles, causing you to yelp in surprise.

Holy fuck. Was Ayato actually doing what you thought he was? 

You shuddered as waves of pleasure traveled up to your core. Gritting your teeth to try and contain the shameful moans from escaping you, afraid to realise that this was all a dream, afraid that Ayato would be turned off by you.

“Hnnn…Ayato….” You groaned, eyes clenching shut and face wrinkled as you bit back on a pathetic whine. All of a sudden, you jolted.

Ayato’s tongue had prodded at something deep inside you that made you melt into a puddle of arousal and shame. You unconsciously gripped his head tight with your thighs, messing up his perfect tidied hair. He had found your prostrate. And then he stopped, a gossamer thread of saliva connecting his lips to your hole as he retreated.

You couldn’t help but notice the shy mole that hid beneath his spit shiny lips — he was absolutely ethereal even with his messy and tousled hair. An unnatural pink flush decorated his fair and porcelain face and you realised that he was aroused.

By you.

The thick tension hung in the air as he silently gazed at you, the hunger in his amethyst eyes almost engulfing you on the spot like he was a man gone wild.

Shadows danced on his face as he meticulously removed his robes, still carrying himself with the same grace and dignity as if the air wasn’t imbued with the electric undercurrent of arousal and the fact that he had just tongue fucked you. He stood above you, full mast and you felt your breath get stolen away from you.

Ayato had a picture perfect physique, lean, almost like a statue carved out and had come to life. Your eyes immediately dove down to his abdomen, to be greeted with his cock, hard, already pressing against your rim, twitching invitingly. Both hands gripping your waist as he positioned himself.

“We will not stop now, (Name). Your pleas and cries will be unheard. This is a punishment.” He stared at you with an unyielding gaze, one that you were ready to challenge. “This is the lesson you must learn, the price of your rebellion,” he concluded. “One I accept.” You let out a hoarse giggle. His eyes darkened almost simultaneously as what seemed like another amused smile tugged at his lips before he let his actions speak for himself.

He did not give any mercy. Ruthlessly driving into your hips with a force like he wanted to merge into you, you felt his girth stretch and force your walls to mould into its shape. “Huh...?” Your mind went blank with pleasure, and for a while you couldn’t comprehend what happened. Your insides clenched down hard on his cock as slaps of skin punctuated the silent night air.

“Ah! Ggh- Aah! W-wait! Ungh —!” You slurred inaudibly as you felt your body rock to his merciless pace, your cock dribbling endless pre-cum uncontrollably. He promised your pleas and cries would be unheard and he served his promise, not even a single word could leave your raw throat. Only guttural whines and moans would escape your bitten lips as you fell into the throes of pleasure.

Alas, decisions were made and you could not regret what you said. Here you were, getting your deserved punishment in the form of a ruthless fucking.

Everything was too hot, too sticky and hummed with the sound of distant sobs, you groggily thought. Oh. Those were from you. Your skin was sticky with the sheen of sweat and cum and the futon beneath you was drenched. You felt unusually full, like something sloshing in your tummy. Your hole felt sore. And he wasn’t done. But you would never admit defeat….was the last thought that echoed in your muddled mind as you gave into the embrace of sleep.

“(Name)? Learnt your lesson now? Oh. The silly thief has admitted defeat.” He pushed back his sweat soaked hair as he glanced upon your slumbering form. Letting out a grunt, he pulled out of your red, swollen hole as semen immediately began dripping out your gaping rim. Humming an exasperated sigh, a fond expression appeared on his face as his lavender eyes crinkled into crescents as he gently ruffled your hair.

The little kitsune had fallen into his trap.

Sometime ago, Ayato had noticed his belongings going missing. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t deserve the title of Yashiro Commissioner. The thief clearly had no ill intent, but it became particularly vexing when he realized that the pair of gloves Ayaka had gifted him had mysteriously disappeared as well.

Then one day, by sheer coincidence, he noticed the little kitsune who had caught his eye more than once, wearing a familiar ribbon in their hair— his ribbon. And on their hands, the very gloves he had been missing. Amusement flickered in his usually composed gaze as everything clicked into place.

It seemed someone had developed quite the habit. But Ayato wasn’t the type to let such things go unaddressed. Oh no, if this little fox thought they could slip away unnoticed, they were sorely mistaken. Someone was in need of a lesson, and he would be more than happy to provide it.

So he plotted.

note: ajskskskk, I’m finally done 🙏 my first ask so I hope this was done well!

Reblogs are appreciated 🧑‍🍳

[strawberrykidneystone]

a baroness after my own heart

summary: sevika from house silco has officially entered the marriage market after years of putting it off and she falls in love with the first woman she lays her eyes on

a/n: sevika… mr. darcy hand flex….

tags: not historically accurate, love at first sight, dancing, regency era-ish, me being a sap, drama, gossip, romance, not historically accurate

ao3 version

viscount silco’s ward, jinx, has been in the marriage market for merely a year and has seemed to scare off every man and woman with her odd personality. earl vander’s ward, lady violet, had recently married into house kiramman. it was quite the scandal when it was revealed that jinx and violet were estranged sisters living in different houses, but the excitement died down quickly with the new ball season starting. no doubt that silco’s influence had also stopped the gossip papers from writing about his family.

you were not a duchess by any means, but you had quite a steep dowry that had many suitors show an interest in you, but each one had been just as boring as the last. your mother was not pleased with your efforts and made an ultimatum, you had to get married this year or you would be sent off to live with your aunt in the middle of nowhere, so you were eager to see the fresh meat entering the market this year.

lady mel visited your house this afternoon with a paper in her hand. she was currently being courted by sir jayce, a man of lower social standing than herself, but she had been adamant about marrying for love. of course, the courting had somewhat come to a hold with the recent scandal, but it was sure to start up again as balls exposed more of people's relationships to the public. you had heard a few rumors about him and his lab partner viktor, but they were quickly laid to rest by mel's mother, duchess ambessa, and no one questioned her judgment, ever.

the two of you settled in the drawing room with tea and biscuits, your handmaidens making themselves scarce on the other side of the room to allow the two of you to talk semi-privately.

after taking a sip from her tea, mel brought your attention to the small paper in her hands, "my dear friend, i have just received word that sevika is entering the marriage market this year."

you had to hold yourself back from spitting out your tea. no one had seen lady sevika in quite a while, she was at the side of silco most of the time and when she wasn't she was in the bars down in the village that no other members of high society would be caught dead in. she was a baroness in her own right and had her own estate, but she was known to work closely with the viscount in many aspects since her parents had taken up traveling the world. personally, you had never seen her, but you had heard that she is intimidating as she is beautiful. you thickly swallowed your tea and set your cup down on the saucer, "pray tell, is there a reason why? she has had ample time to enter the market whenever she wanted, why now?"

"there was no reason given, a kitchen maid wrote to me in haste as soon as she heard," mel said with a grin, she always liked to have her fingers in all of the pies, paying off servants for small bits of gossip was included into keep tabs on everyone. you shook your head in disbelief, the whole thing seemed fishy.

"perhaps it's to draw away attention from the scandal of the two sisters," you suggested and cocked your head curiously.

mel waved her hand dismissively and shook her head, "most people have already forgotten about that by now. whatever the reason, it's sure to be an interesting season this year."

you nodded in agreement and took a small bite from one of the sweet biscuits, letting your imagination run wild surrounding the house of silco and vander. you and mel continued to talk about everything under the sun, mostly gossip about other houses and who's getting desperate to not be considered a spinster next year. before you knew it, the sun was almost down and you bid her farewell at the door, her carriage taking her back to her mansion in the hills.

the next week was pure chaos.

picking out fabrics for dresses, trying out hairstyles for this season, pairing accessories with each other, and keeping up with the constant rumor mill. as long as you didn't hear anything about yourself, you were fine with a little gossip here and there. there had been a little talk about how you were getting close to being a thornback*, but you simply ignored them. you were determined to get married this season, even if it killed you.

before you knew it, it was time for the first ball of the season. lady mel's family was hosting of course, with no expense spared for decorating the huge mansion. there were gold decorations everywhere decorating the house with fresh-cut roses intertwined in delicate patterns. the rose bushes that lined the front of the house were lit up with protected candles, the whole house glowing like a sun against the night sky.

exiting your carriage in your custom-fit gown with elbow-length gloves, a curly updo with a headband of pearls in your hair, and a pearl choker to match, you confidently walked into the ball with your family.

with your fan hanging on your wrist and your dance card in its proper case, you immediately walked up close to the dance floor, scanning the crowd. it was mostly filled with faces you had seen before with a few you didn't recognize, but you couldn't help but feel nervous. you were thankful for the gloves on your hands absorbing the sweat that would no doubt be building up on your hands, but you were still hopeful for this evening.

suddenly, the whole room fell silent. you turned your head towards the entrance you just walked through and held back a gasp. there was duchess caitlyn and lady violet arm and arm, with the house of silco, vander, and kiramann following up behind them. they posed a united front together and you had to praise them for their bravery showing up at all. their footsteps echoed throughout the room with the occasional ‘thump’ from silco’s cane. the group paused in front of the ballroom, not unlike two armies about to attack each other. mel quickly snapped at the orchestra to ease the tension and they picked up their playing again, people slowly going back to their conversations and dancing. the big group quickly dispersed, acting casual as if nothing over the summer had happened. duchess caitlyn and lady- duchess violet took to the dance floor and waltzed with each other, a genuine aura of love surrounding them as they glided around the circle of people even though people were very obviously keeping their distance.

you walked through the crowd and stayed on the edges, ending up close to the refreshment table. god it was going to be a long evening, but thankfully not an uneventful one.

it’s not that you were uninterested in marriage, you just hadn’t found the right person. you were resolute about marrying for love, which annoyed your family to no end as they had all married for wealth and status. you had hoped to talk to mel for a bit, but she was already busy waltzing around the dance floor with jayce, much to lady ambessa’s dismay. looking over to the side of the room, you saw jinx and sir ekko passionately talking about some sort of trinket in her hands. a fond smile graced your lips, it’s as if the two never grew up, still up to their usual antics.

just as you were about to chalk this night up to simply standing on the outside as just another wallflower and observing other couples, somebody caught your eye.

a tall woman with a short and straight haircut that sharply framed her face, her grey eyes lighting up against her darker features. she had the most endearing wide nose you had ever seen and full lips to match. she wore a beautifully tailored burgundy suit complete with a black vest and a white undershirt, tan pants, and a black cravat adorned around her neck to complete the look. she was simultaneously the most beautiful and handsome woman you had ever laid your eyes on.

and she was staring right back at you.

the rest of the world seemed to blur away and your heartbeat picked up, you had to convince yourself that you weren’t having an aneurism in the middle of the ball or somehow daydreaming of this perfect woman. the room seemed to light up as if the world had been dimmed until this moment, you could see nothing else but her. the two of you wandered intently toward each other as if in a trance, never breaking eye contact as you made your way through the crowd.

before you knew it you were face to face with her, both of you awestruck by the feeling that your hearts had been searching for each other all your lives, two halves that were now whole. sevika cleared her throat and slightly bowed her upper body, keeping her eyes on yours as she held out her left hand with the palm up, “may i have this dance?”

your voice was caught in your throat, all you could do was nod and placed your hand in hers. as soon as you laid your hand in her warm palm, you knew that you never wanted to let go.

she led you to the dance floor and people were already starting to whisper about the two of you as they parted to let the two of you onto the floor, but you couldn't care less in this moment. the two of you smoothly got into a classical waltz position with her leading, her left hand never leaving yours as she held your interconnected hands up and placed her other hand on your waist. you rested your arm on top of hers and followed her lead in the dance, absolutely enthralled with your partner as you twirled around the dance floor. it was like the two of you were floating on air above everything else, dancing in your own little world where it's only you and her.

all too soon, the song ended and suddenly you were back in a crowded ballroom standing in front of the woman you danced with, whose name you didn't even know. the two of you bowed to one another and exited the floor together. reluctantly letting go of her hand, you clasped your hands in front of your dress formally and smiled up at her, "thank you for the dance miss?..."

"sevika, baroness sevika," she said in a smooth deep voice with a bow of her head.

you held back a gasp and quickly introduced yourself, curtseying while holding your skirt.

the two of you quickly got lost in conversation as if you had known her all of your life, having more in common with her than anyone else you had ever met in your life. sadly, the evening was coming to a close and the last dance of the night was announced. sevika gave you a knowing look and you nodded, the two of you joining the other couples for one last dance. she was such an easy dance partner to follow and you couldn't help but feel safe in her arms. losing yourself completely in the dance, the music ended far too soon for your liking. you wished you could've stayed here and danced with sevika all night.

alas, each of your houses were starting to depart and sevika looked down at you with the biggest puppy eyes, holding both of your hands in hers, " would it be too soon if i called upon you tomorrow?"

you giggled and squeezed her hands in yours, "i shall simply die if i do not see you tomorrow."

sevika's face lit up and she brought your hands up to her mouth, kissing your knuckles, "then tomorrow it shall be."

she slowly walked backward, holding your hands as long as she could until she finally had to let go, silco calling to her from their carriages. she stumbled slightly going down the stairs which made you giggle until your mother sharply called your name. you quickly joined your own house once again, giddy in anticipation for the next day.

a/n: i tried to leave reader's outfit as ambiguous as possible so you could imagine your own outfit but FUCK i love pearls <3

part 2 coming soon

*thornback: single woman over the age of 25

taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all

[vaokses]

Never enough for both (Pirtir, Ch.4)

Series Masterlist

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Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Both sides of the family are reunited in King's Landing to formally announce the betrothal and start the celebrations leading up to the wedding.

Word Count: 7.7k (sorry, if long chapters like this bother you, I can try to make future ones shorter or divide them in parts, let me know)

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Hints at alcohol consumption in unhealthy manners. I love Maris Baratheon, so she's here, though not in all her glory as she's not taunting a man into kinslaying, sadly. ✨Childhood Companions✨. Both sides of this family are messy and annoying, and I hope I showed that properly here.

A/N: Sorry for the late update! I think I'll change uploads for this story to Sundays instead of Saturdays. Hope you enjoy!

This chapter includes some stuff also mentioned/explained in How long this love can hold its breath, a prequel oneshot in Aegon's perspective.

Title is from "So, here you are, too foreign for home, too foreign for here. Never enough for both." By Ljeoma Umebinyuo.

Your morning tea with the Queen is followed by the announcement that the Velaryon fleet -and by extension your family- can be seen quickly approaching the city, with six dragons flying alongside the boats. 

You got to meet the Velaryons that arrive on the port, which are the ones sailing from Driftmark, as your mother and the rest have decided to enter the city through the Dragonpit. To your surprise, Corlys is there to greet you, after a long absence at sea. 

Baela makes very unsubtle attempts to return to the Keep on your carriage with you alone, so after a quick greeting of Princess Rhaenys and the Sea Snake, you promise to meet with them later and enter the carriage with Baela. 

Sitting across from her, you keep silent as you watch her, as you notice her uncharacteristically falter, lowering her eyes to her fidgeting hands.  

“Corlys and Rhaenys aren’t getting along, for obvious reasons. They aren’t the only ones,” She informs you. “Daemon and your mother are…at odds with one another.” 

“And you know this how, exactly?” 

“I can hear the shouting all the way from Driftmark,” She jests, the glint of defiant humor shining in her dark eyes. A breath, and she explains, “Rhaena sent a raven, told me that father was furious that this was allowed to go on.” 

“‘This’?” 

“Your marriage to Aegon.” 

“But it has been months in the planning.” 

“Perhaps Daemon hoped for an…alternate solution to present itself,” She shrugs, “We both know Father would have sent you here to kill him, not marry him.” 

You chuckle humorlessly, “I shall be on the lookout for new orders, then.” 

Instead of joking along, Baela turns to you then, dark eyes slightly narrowed. 

“Would you follow such orders?” 

You offer a smile again, but you know better than to expect her to fold. 

Still, you attempt, “Did Daemon give you orders to ask this?” 

“No, I’m just…curious. If he had ordered you to kill them, any of them, of your…childhood companions, would you have?” 

“It is a bit late to send Vermithor and I against Sunfyre and Aegon, or Dreamfyre and Helaena. We’d win, though.” 

“Undoubtedly. But that wasn’t what I asked.” 

“Daemon has issued no orders.” 

She is more alike her father than she knows, especially when she’s on a hunt. They track weakness like bloodhounds, and they don’t cease on their chase once they’ve caught a scent. 

She presses, “Perhaps because he knows you wouldn’t obey.” 

“I have always done as was asked of me.” 

“Have you?” Baela asks. While you admire her spirit, you do not intend to entertain accusations, and you turn to her with a glare that she smiles at. Bowing her head slightly, she amends, “I am not implying disloyalty, I just…I think you believe yourself less…unyielding than you actually are. I think you don’t like to admit you have ambitions of your own.” 

It is difficult for you, even now, to push back the voice that reminds you that you have been too careless, too trusting, and you have allowed Baela to see more than she should have, more than it was useful for her to see. To lie well you must never be defined or remembered, Lady Mysaria told you years ago, an ordinary face is lost in a crowd. 

And despite Baela being one of the only people you’ve been able to count on as a constant, despite the fact that by blood and love you are bound to one another, despite knowing deep in your bones that you can count on her to have your back come what may; you resent the realization that she sees in you something you didn’t intend for her to, something that isn’t useful for her to see. You do not know what to do, at the threat that she might have seen you, and might have remembered you. 

“My ambitions are to support my House and my mother. I have done only what was asked of me.” 

“Were you asked to promise love to Alasdair Tyrell in order to have him sail to the Shield Islands and turn them to your cause? Were you asked to use Cragan Stark’s…friendship with Jacaerys to force his hand when he refused to offer a proposal of marriage?”  

If Alasdair Tyrell hadn’t sailed to the Shield Islands with the Redwyne fleet and turned them to your cause, you would have no solid argument against Lady Mysaria and her wish to marry you to him. If Cregan Stark hadn’t issued a proposal of marriage you would have had to trust only in your mother’s choices to keep the North. Either alternative would mean relinquishing control, would mean uncertainty, powerlessness, and you were unwilling to even entertain the possibility. 

“I did not lie to Alasdair, my affections were honest,” At her look, you concede, “I care for him, even if I do not love him. And I merely…discussed with Cregan the realities of our expectations of one another, which he found agreeable enough to issue a proposal.” 

“Hm,” There’s a smile on her lips that she learned neither from her father or her mother, but from her grandmother. The smile of a spider with an insect caught on its web. “How convenient, then, that in your honesty you earned yourself the Reach and the North.” 

“I don’t appreciate accusations,” You dismiss, rolling your eyes at her answering chuckle. “When Vaemond plotted with Oldtown to challenge my brother’s claim to the Salt Throne, it was you who asked me to deal with it, it was you who told Daeron Velaryon I was to entertain his proposal of marriage to get him to share his father’s secrets.” 

“You choose to embody a weapon, and you mind being wielded?” She asks, hints of laughter still clinging to her tone. Baela shrugs one shoulder. “I am not judging you, so you can stop glaring at me. If anything, I admire it.” 

“Do you?” 

“While Vhagar lives, you are not yet the greatest power in the Realm. Daemon would have you kill the hoary old bitch, and I might agree with his strategy, but…I commend you for yours.” 

“Hm.” 

She chuckles again, “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Pout when I remind you of a truth you mislike hearing,” She says, “Gods, you and your brother are more alike than you like to admit, did you know?” 

All too eager to put an end to this conversation, you divert it towards Jace, and say, 

“My mother should be arriving soon with Daemon, Rhaena, and my brothers. The Queen said they are to…start the celebrations today, if the King is well enough.” 

“Is it too much to ask that they don’t arrive at all? None of your brothers should be coming here, not to mention our sister.” 

“Your s-…” 

Baela dismisses your words with a gesture of her hand, “Don’t bother.” 

You decide not to fight this unending battle today at least, and lean your head back against the seat, regarding her quietly for a few moments.  

“They have no choice but to be here, it would send the wrong message if my family fails to attend my wedding,” You say, but she presses her lips together, answering with nothing but a short grunt. “What troubles you, Baela?” 

“There are too many of us together in the same place,” She tells you, as if it is obvious. She looks out at the passing streets. “I doubt an eye is all someone will lose this time.” 

Your brow furrows. 

“You worry me.” 

She offers only a smile in return, confident and sly. 

“I assure you it is mutual, sister.” 

“Stop that.” 

“Make me.” 

 ___ 

Your mother and brothers -and you assume Daemon alongside them, you haven’t seen him as of yet- choose to spend the better part of the morning and noon with your grandsire. They remain by him as the gathering of members of the Great and Noble Houses of Westeros on the Keep grows, the highborn within the Keep and the lowborn outside of it waiting for their King to announce his son’s wedding celebrations, to write in stone the union they have known or suspected about for months now. 

Your eye catches on Mina Redwyne, second eldest of House Redwyne, as she talks with two of the Four Storms. Well, your eye doesn’t catch on her, but on the deep emerald dress she has chosen to wear. 

She notices your eyes on her, and turns to you with the clear intent to approach you. 

Turning to accept the servants offered glass of wine, you look at Baela, Rhaena, and Rhaenys and mouth save me. Before they can answer with anything other than the laugh Baela hides behind her hand, the ladies reach you. 

“Princess,” Mina greets, echoed by Maris and Cassandra Baratheon. “My congratulations on your betrothal. May the Seven bless you both.” 

You nod with a little hum, taking a sip of wine to try and dislodge the knot in your throat. It hasn’t gotten any easier to hear people speak of your betrothal, even now, just shy of having the King announce seven days of festivities before the wedding is to take place. 

“Thank you, my Lady,” You agree, smile in place, “It seems the both of us meet only for wedding celebrations as of late. First your brother’s in the Arbor, and now mine.” 

“How could I forget?” She replies. “In a sea of green and burgundy, there you were, wearing red. I can’t say I recall you ever wearing something that wasn’t red. Or black.” 

Of course she hasn’t, there was a reason for your tour and everything about it, from the servants that accompanied you to the clothes you were, were planned in order to send a message. And she knows that. 

Doing your best to mask the tiredness at the game she has only just started, you smile and say, 

“I am proud to wear my House’s colors. As any Lady should.” 

“Not all of us can afford to, Princess,” Maris Baratheon reminds you, sly smile curving at her lips, eyes trailing over Lady Mina’s green dress. “What with the mad race to be married off like cattle and all that.” 

“Hey.” You complain, gesturing with your free hand. 

Maris merely laughs, quite close to a witch’s cackle, and clinks her glass of wine against yours. 

“Congratulations, by the way,” She mocks. Her brow furrows, and her eyes divert to somewhere over your shoulder as she pretends to look for someone. “Though I believe it is your betrothed I am to extend my congratulations to? The man won a race he wasn’t even participating on, after all.” 

“You shouldn’t scorn the ways of court. You will soon be searching for a husband, sister.” Lady Cassandra, Borros Baratheon’s eldest, points out. 

“Or I could do as you do, and sulk for the rest of my days, mourning a rejection even a blind man could have seen coming,” Maris quips in response, and you share a look at the blatant insult with Lady Mina, for a moment your own quarrel forgotten. “Mother does always say I should follow your example.” 

“I’d dare say it takes more than a shared name for you to be equal to your sister, Lady Maris,” Mina quips, coming to Cassandra’s defense without a second thought. “Your House’s name was not enough to warrant you the proposals Lady Cassandra has received, was it?” 

You care much more about keeping Maris Baratheon, the cleverest of the Four Stroms and the daughter who currently holds Lord Borros’ ear, on your side than appeasing a daughter of House Redwyne. Mina has spent her life on the shadow of the Hightower, you know her alliances won’t change. 

So, making sure to keep your tone civil, but firm, you point out, 

“Some aspire to more than marriage, my Lady,” You say. “Lady Maris has much to offer her House, she can be more than a vessel for an alliance.” 

“Unlike others.” Maris bites out, cold gaze set on the other woman. Each time you spend time with her in court you realize why her mother threatens to cut off her tongue so often. 

“All women eventually have no choice but to bend, Princess,” Mina reminds you. Her gaze drops to the rubies on your dress and she adds, “Even women like you.” 

If your smile betrays something more honest, something closer to poison, then so be it. 

“There are no women like me.” 

Maris barks a short laugh, improper and unladylike, “You still believe humility to be a wasted effort, I take it?” 

“On the contrary, I find it admirable,” You lie, sharing a smile with the second eldest of House Baratheon. She returns a smile in kind, a little crooked but honest. You continue with yet another lie, “I just believe honesty is paramount when speaking amongst friends.” 

Lady Redwyne loses none of the edge, and the way her shoulders are drawn up in tension, ruffling the fabric of her dress, reminds you of a puffed-up bird. 

“We are to speak honestly, then?” 

“I dare say that sounds like a threat, Lady Mina.” Maris taunts, lifting the cup of wine to her lips and looking at the daughter of House Redwyne over the rim of her glass. 

“Of course,” You answer Mina’s question. With a small shrug, you prompt, “Speak with honesty, I wish t-…” 

You are interrupted by a hand resting on the small of your back, startling you into silence. You turn with wide eyes towards Aegon, now standing by your side, hand brazenly on you. 

“My Ladies,” He greets, brazenly false charm on display. He turns to you and bows his head slightly in greeting, “Princess.” 

“My Prince.” Lady Mina is the first to greet, and your appalment at his lack of care for manners is forgotten at the sight of her attempt at charm. Your eyes narrow towards her, but you say nothing. 

“You wouldn’t mind if I stole my betrothed from you for a while, would you?” 

The ladies acquiesce with mumbled goodbyes and promises to speak with you again after the King’s speech is delivered. You sincerely hope they cannot find you. 

Aegon leads you away from them and towards another part of the vast hall where the nobles gather, hand still boldly resting on your back. You make a point to take a step to the left, away from him, and point out,  

“It isn’t appropriate to touch me in public. We aren’t yet married.” 

“Would you prefer that I touch you in private? Because th-…” 

“It isn’t appropriate to ask that.” You interrupt, but a smile is foolishly tugging at the corners of your lips, and he notices, because his own smile widens. You look away. 

“No one expects me to behave appropriately.” 

You frown, very pointedly avoiding the eyes of the Queen and her brother as you pass them by. 

“And if I did?” 

“Then I’d disappoint you sooner than I intend to.” 

As you walk into the gardens, you stop in your pace and turn on your side to face him. hands joined behind your back, your head tilted to the side, you ask,  

“Do you intend to disappoint me?” 

He shrugs slightly, a downward curve of his mouth as he considers your question. 

“An inevitability,” He retorts. A breath, and Aegon offers an arm for you to take. An appropriate gesture, followed by an appropriate title, “Princess.” 

It shouldn’t endear you, it really shouldn’t. And yet you furrow your lips to hide a smile as you take the offered arm and let him guide you through the inner gardens of the Keep. 

“Was there something you wanted to discuss?” You ask, “You did ‘borrow’ me from the delightful company of those ladies.” 

“Not…exactly.” 

Gods, he is such a terrible liar. You mull over is answer, his actions, for a few breaths, as you walk through the busy room towards the gates to the gardens. 

“How many of those women have you fucked, that it worries you that I speak with them?” You blurt out, careful to keep your voice low, almost a whisper. You will tell yourself that the strange edge in your tone, what sounds even to you like jealousy, was part of a game, was intentional. “I know of the…activities you partake in. Court gossip may not speak about my indiscretions, but it does speak about yours.” 

“None of them,” He answers plainly. A breath, a moment of hesitation, a restless movement stalled by the weight of your hand on the crook of his arm, and Aegon turns to look at you. There’s something raw, in his slightly widened eyes, in the expectant expression. “Do you believe me?” 

You cannot help but think back on the previous night, and the careless way he gave away secrets he should have kept guarded, the way he seemed not to care that he is baring vulnerabilities with each breath, with each look. And you have this irrational and sudden anger at him for it, for this stupid bravery, this weakness, this rough honesty. 

More than anything, you are angry at the part of you that envies him for it, for being unable to wear anything but his true face. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” You answer without thinking. You aren’t sure if you’re lying or not. 

“I can think of many reasons.” Aegon retorts, wry smile curving at his lips. 

He doesn’t say anything else, and his attention returns to the gardens around you. It seems only then he notices the unsubtle way the lords and ladies scattered about keep staring at the both of you. 

“No one of noble blood is happy with this union,” You point out before he can say anything, “Every young knight and lord in the Seven Kingdoms is cursing your name, most likely. They wanted…well, it varied, but ultimately they all wanted their blood on the Iron Throne. In marrying me, you denied them of that chance.” 

“I know about being denied what I want most, but I doubt they would care about my sympathy.” 

“Do you?” You ask, the beginning of a smile curving at your lips. “What, as eldest son of a King, as a Targaryen Prince, have you been denied?” 

“You.” 

He answers so bluntly, as if the truth is without its weight, as if it is obvious, as if it isn’t dangerous to admit such a thing, that you are stunned into silence for a breath. 

“You never told me,” You say, “Before I left, you never told me of what you had attempted.” 

“Why does it matter? It wasn’t enough, it didn’t change anything,” You have the errant thought that it might have changed things, it might have changed you, if you had known, if he had told you. You say nothing though, and Aegon continues, thoughts spilling past his lips with no need for wine to loosen his tongue, truths being shared like grains of sand escaping from closed fists, “Refusing them all this time didn’t change anything either, you were still-…But I did it anyways. I was always slow to learn, wasn’t I?” 

A knot forms somewhere in your throat, something unnamed lodged in your chest. Because he is implying more than having merely asked to marry you. 

“What do you mean?” 

“My mother and Otto attempted to make arrangements, to betroth me to some lady or another, many times. I always refused them,” He shrugs, as if any of this can be easily dismissed, as if it doesn’t matter. An act, a mask of carelessness, but you notice the tension in his frame, the way his free arm is moving as if he’s fidgeting, hand opening and closing in nervous movements. “They refused to let me marry you, so I refused to marry anyone. 

“I-I didn’t…I didn’t know.” 

“You never asked.” 

“Why?” You ask, because you might have never asked before, but you have to ask now. 

“I didn’t think it would change anything, I just…I couldn’t imagine it, a-a future beside anyone but you.” 

Your chest pulls tight, and it is once again that overwhelming feeling of the night before, when he admitted to having asked for your hand before you left for Dragonstone. That feeling of flying on dragon back and falling, and landing harshly, and nearly missing a cliff. 

And the words, the accusation, to him or to yourself, you aren’t sure, rush past your lips,  

“You didn’t think of saying any of this sooner? Send a letter, something?” 

“And say what, exactly?” Aegon retorts, “That I asked to marry you, for a-a way to keep you, and was refused as if I were nothing but a boy asking for the impossible? That while you were away, forgetting me, I was still-…that I couldn’t forget? That’s all there is to it, I couldn’t forget.” 

Your eyes flicker between his, and he doesn’t bother hiding an old anger, an older hurt, and they both shine so clearly in his gaze now. Your breath stutters past your lips before any words an attempt to. 

“It wasn’t-…” 

“I told you, I wasn’t expecting it to change anything. I knew-…I know it changes nothing.” 

“And yet we are less than an hour away from our betrothal being announced.” 

“Your doing, not mine.” He retorts without missing a beat, and your short laugh does make a smile almost curve at his lips. It shouldn’t make you proud, the sight shouldn’t make you feel this strange yet welcomed nervousness. 

“If those ladies aren’t scorned lovers of yours, why the unsubtle attempt at keeping me from their company?” You ask, but more than ever it feels as if you’re playing a part. It is a familiar strategy to you, keeping a conversation going while you try to get a hold of yourself again. For the first time since you were sent away, you doubt you can. 

“The court isn’t…fond of me. Ladies like them, anyone here really, they’ll say things about me, things that are…true, even if I don’t want them to be,” He admits. Now it is you who is left looking at him while Aegon intently looks ahead. “If I can, I’d like to speak first. I just…I don’t want this to change.” 

The world has changed, long ago, for you. When you were forced to open your eyes to the truth of your and your brothers’ parentages, when you were promised your very life was at risk if your mother’s claim was not secured, when you were ordered into the Chamber of the Painted Table and instructed on what your use would be going forward and sent off to tour Westeros. 

The world changed, irrevocably, devastatingly, long ago, and it is no longer the world where you followed Helaena and Dreamfyre into the skies or the world where Aegon managed to make you laugh until you cried. The world has changed. 

The world has changed, and yet in your mind only lingers the recent knowledge that he refused to marry unless it was you, that you dedicated all you are and more to forget the foolish promises you made and he so carelessly held on to them, chose to remember them. Remember you. 

The world has changed, and yet he still feels familiar, he still seems to you the man you once knew, who could not keep a secret to save his life, who drank wine like it was a medicine drought, who managed to care deeply and not care at all in the same breath. 

And perhaps that is why you speak so carelessly now, so honestly now, 

“It doesn’t have to.” 

Silence lingers, and you are desperate for a way to fill it, to purge from your mind the thoughts that race in your head and the pointless feelings bubbling in your chest at Aegon’s admission that he refused to marry anyone else after he was denied a chance to marry you. But once again you find yourself uncertain on how to go on, on how to play. 

If Aegon is to say anything at all, it is stopped by a call from the Kingsguard for all to return inside the Keep, as the King is to join you all soon. 

The Kingsguard that made the announcement -you recognize him, he is the one sworn to Queen Alicent- bows once, but remains there, expectant, demanding. 

You and Aegon share a look, reminiscent of both that look as he took you to fly on Sunfyre for the first time, and of that last look as you mounted Vermithor and set to fly away to Dragonstone. 

___ 

You barely hear your grandsire’s words, though you do notice the way his voice is stronger, his frame standing taller, than the nights before. He welcomes the Houses to the Keep, he talks about years of strife in the House of the Dragon being put to rest, he announces your marriage to his eldest son, and yet you can only think about what Aegon so recklessly revealed to you. About what it means, about how he felt, about how he remembers you, about how he feels.

A part of you reminds you that when Lady Mysaria pushed you to marry Alasdair Tyrell, you constructed a lie and sent him off to conquer the Shield Islands in your name, to prove to her that you needn’t marry while at peace. That part of you reminds you that your threat to feed to Vermithor whoever they tried marrying you off to wasn’t a lie, that you meant it with everything that was left in you. 

The King collapses back into his seat, and even at the sight of his frailty the crowds continue in their cheer. Lady Mysaria explained to you long ago about the weight a full belly will have on the opinions of both noble and commoner, and how Viserys’ reign is but proof of that very fact. It is the reason she wanted you to marry a Tyrell, to secure the Reach, the most fertile region of the Realm. 

“I am no longer a young man, and it is no news to anyone that the years have weighed on me,” He admits, voice still somehow carrying in the cavernous room. A pale, bruised hand reaches for your mother’s, and he squeezes her hand in his before adding, “It will be Princess Rhaenyra, my daughter and heir, who will preside over the festivities to come in my stead.” 

The intention behind putting your mother, and not his wife or his Hand, as the one to act in his stead during the days to come is not lost on you, the support he once again reinstates over your mother and her claim impossible to ignore. 

You venture a glance at the Queen, and though you will admit she is not a bad player, she does not easily hide her emotions as well as other ladies of the court do. Yet now, neither surprise nor offense sour her expression, and you could swear there’s calm in the deep breath that rises and drops her shoulders. 

“I’ll endeavor to live up to your example, father.” 

“I shall hope these celebrations are only the beginning of a new age of joy and prosperity for us all,” He says, smile wide and kind. He turns to you and Aegon, and you stare back with wide eyes, because in your head resonates like a war drum, I couldn’t forget. “And I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you both.” 

___ 

The Grand Maester sent word that the King would not be well enough to join you all at the dinner to welcome your family to the Keep, and though you truly wanted to ask what was the point of such dinner if your grandsire -the only one to wish for such a reunion- was not to be in attendance, you bit your tongue and let the handmaidens ready you for it. 

It is a striking difference, that of tonight and your first night here. Where before everyone was stiffly held to their seats by the presence of the King alone, now you walk into the room and find small clusters of people talking and joking with one another. It is a tad cruel, that the one so intent on uniting them has done nothing but create further division. 

Though, the division remains. Alicent and her father sit by one another and speak in hushed whispers, while your mother stands by the other end of the table with Rhaena and Princess Rhaenys. The rest are equally divided, with your father and Baela standing by a corner and observing them all carefully, your brothers sitting together and speaking with Vaemond and Corlys, and Alicent’s children standing together on the other end of the table. 

But at least now they look like people. Dreadful people, who make it horribly hard to tolerate them, much less love them, but people. Not figurines, as unmovable and as easily cracked as Viserys’ marble ones. 

At the errant thought that lingers on your grandsire’s model of Old Valyria, you find yourself eyeing the table, and you find, unsurprisingly, a napkin folded into the shape of a dragon. 

It seems you were the last to arrive, as they all move to sit now. You let the servants guide you to the middle of the long table, sitting you right in front of your mother and Queen Alicent.  

Baela takes the seat at your right, and you are grateful, for you are certain she knows as well as you that you will be sitting across from two women at war. 

Jacaerys approaches your left side, but Aegon is faster, and when your brother pulls back the chair, your betrothed sits on it before he can. 

Aegon turns to your brother with a mocking smile, and lifts his cup in a mock toast. 

“Thank you, nephew.” 

The taunt is childish, but it is enough to irritate Jace regardless. He shares a look with Baela, and moves to sit beside Aegon, while Helaena takes the last seat of this side of the table, sitting between Jace and Aemond, who sits at the head of the table. 

You watch as your mother and Alicent engage in yet another verbal battle, speaking in the language only those who once loved one another can speak; keeping you all a captive audience. 

She shouldn’t have come here, so far from the wedding. It was a mistake to come here, not to mention bringing Daemon and your brothers with her. 

Lucerys eyes the roasted pig brought to the table and then looks at Aemond with cruel mirth shining in his dark eyes. Thankfully your grandsire, the Sea Snake, has the good sense to smack him on the back of his head and snap him out of any foolish ideas about taunting your uncle before you see yourself in need to do the same. 

You are starting to think no one in this family has been capable of an intelligent choice or has formulated a coherent plan since your mother had you flee King’s Landing and left her father’s court to the Hightowers. And for the first time, you are glad you were sent away for those two years instead of being made to stay and try and manage this madness as Jace has been forced to do, the eldest in your absence. 

“I defy my own father’s counsel in permitting this union, Rhaenyra. Do not confuse my faults with those of the men of my blood, or I will extend the same courtesy to you.” 

Dark eyes flicker to Daemon, who answers to her implication with a mocking little giggle, leaning back on his chair and crossing his hands over his stomach. 

“It is not your father’s faults that make me wary, Your Grace,” Your mother argues, the title a reminder, and it is only then that you notice Alicent referred to her by her name. She continues, “But the cruelty and injustice you imposed on my children, for years on end.” 

Alicent’s brow furrows, eyes wide with the frenzied affront of that night in Driftmark. 

“You dare speak of cruelty, when your savage sons took Aemond’s eye?” 

“I do wish they would give me some credit. I did land a few good hits on him.” Baela, sitting by your side, mutters, quiet enough that only you hear. Still, you move your foot under the table and stomp on hers in reprimand.  

She answers with a little laugh that is entirely a mirror of her father’s, and you hiss a command for her to be quiet, but she grabs your hand in hers and, with laughter still clinging to her tone, issues quietly the High Valyrian for be calm, lykirī. 

Unaware of the small exchange between you and Baela, unaware, it seems, to the entire world beyond one another, your mother and Alicent go on in their argument, in their battle of words and of silences only themselves understand. 

Your mother’s smile is a lie, a mockery, as she shakes her head, dismissing, or perhaps refusing, whatever it is the Queen has said. Rhaenyra lifts the cup to her lips and takes a slow sip of wine, putting the cup down and only then speaking again, voice calm and yet cold. 

“You do not trust me, or my family. I understand this. It is why you wouldn’t marry Helaena to Jacaerys when I proposed it,” She turns to her oldest friend then, and a part of you wishes to berate her, to hide her then, because in your mother’s gaze there’s too much truth revealed. “Can you blame me for holding the same reservations as you did, now that I must entrust my daughter, my only daughter, to your care?” 

Alicent answers with the faintest shake of her head, as if the mere idea of what your mother fear is unthinkable. She adjusts her posture, unmoving again. Though not in the way a stone statue is unmoving, but in the way thin ice is.  

“A mother’s sins are not her daughter’s.” 

Whatever it is your mother is to answer with, if anything at all, is interrupted by Daemon’s laughter, cold and mocking. 

“How easily you change your tune, now that the noose tightens around your neck.”  

Alicent’s expression sours in disgust at the mere sound of Daemon’s voice, and she refuses to entertain his accusation with a response. Her eyes, warm and sad, linger on your mother for a few breaths, before she abandons the fight and straightens in her seat. 

Your mother shouldn’t have come here, not when she longs for peace yet the man at her side dreams of bloodied hands placing a crown upon her brow; not when her sons and Alicent’s long for violence and chaos as young men are allowed to; not when all she has done, all any of them have done, is pull you in warring directions, demanding and demanding and demanding. 

You down the last of your wine, resting your empty cup on the table and drumming your nails restlessly on the glass. 

Leaning closer to Laena’s oldest who sits at your left, you gesture with your chin at an open window. 

“If I were to fling myself from that window, you gather Vermithor is fast enough to catch me before I reach the ground?” You ask Baela, who hides a smile behind her cup as she lifts it to take a sip from her wine. 

Your jest with your sister is interrupted as someone leans closer to you. You turn to watch as Aegon, sitting beside you and pitcher of wine in hand, refills your cup. 

“No, but Sunfyre might be,” He answers, as if it were him you asked that question to. At your look, he shrugs, though a smile plays at his lips. “Just say the word.” 

Stupidly, more carelessly than you should allow yourself, you find yourself smiling back as you watch him lean back in his chair. 

Your smile falls when you turn to see the expectant face of your half-sister, who stares with wide eyes and raised brows. Baela demands an explanation without even parting her lips, and you merely shrug in response. 

Uncomfortable silence falls upon you all once again as your mother’s and Alicent’s quarrel comes to an end for now. You lean closer to Baela again and whisper, 

“What does it say of me, that I am considering the offer?” 

“I know not what it says about you, but it says quite a lot about this horrid evening.” 

You lean back in your seat, eyeing the people in the room, forced together by the wishes and fantasies of a dying man, bound together more so by the shared wounds that the shared love or blood. 

“First of many.” 

“Could I convince you to marry Aegon in the ways of our House and save us all from this circus?” Baela prompts. Dark eyes divert over your shoulder, and apparently deeming it safe enough, she adds, quieter, “Or to kill him? Either way, I can gift you the dragonglass for the deed.” 

She draws a short laugh from you. 

“It concerns me that you have come armed.” 

Your half-sister turns to you, a truly affronted look in her eyes, and whispers, “It concerns me that you haven’t. If I am to leave you here, I would do so knowing you have the means to protect yourself.” 

You shrug, “I have Vermithor.” 

“He doesn’t fit in a dining room.” 

“And I need no protection when breaking bread, cousin.” 

Baela’s smile makes her eyes narrow, and she clinks her glass against yours as she advices,  

“You should ease on the wine. Usually you can lie better than that.” 

“Shouldn’t you be tormenting my brother about trade in Spicetown? Or about those dignitaries from Asshai you mentioned?” You ask with a tired sigh, but still a slow smile curves at your own lips. 

“Shouldn’t you be walking about, charming hosts and guests alike? Almost two years of one diplomatic visit after another, I doubt you spent them like this.” 

“There was something I wanted from those Lords and Ladies. All I want from our family is an uneventful evening.” 

She scoffs, “You’ll sooner bring The Cannibal to heel.” 

The tension between your mother and Alicent seems to lessen, or at the very least become more manageable, as the dinner goes on. The room is filled with the murmur of ongoing conversations, and you are enjoying some pastry with what tastes like candied figs within it when Baela leans closer again and talks by your ear. 

“Speaking of tormenting your brother,” Baela motions with her chin towards your left side. “I gather he’s much better at it than I.” 

You turn to follow her gaze, and find Aegon leaning closer to your brother, who sits straight, frame coiled with tension. Aegon mutters something only your brother can hear, gesturing with his hand, elbow resting on the table. 

“You will hold your tongue when speaking of my sister, or I will cut it off.” Jace threatens, but it seems to fall flat, for Aegon doesn’t even move away, and the sly smile on his lips only grows. 

“I’ll still have my fingers,” Aegon replies with a shrug that only makes your brother further enraged. “Not to mention my c-…” 

“Please stop talking.” Helaena interrupts, nose furrowed in disgust. 

To your surprise, Otto Hightower laughs at his granddaughter’s words, with more warmth you ever believed him capable off. You don’t think you ever remember hearing him laugh before. 

Your disbelief only grows when the Lord Hand move his chair slightly closer to his daughter’s to make room for Helaena to sit beside him and opposite of Aegon and Jace, an offer the Princess takes without a moment of hesitation. 

Jace keeps his eyes on the table before him, both hands on the table and curled into fists, “Cease playing the jester, Aegon. All here know that the mere idea that a man like you is to wed my sister is enough of a joke.” 

“Jace.” Your mother attempts, but you doubt even she believes her attempt at chastising your brother. 

“Our family has wed us to one another for generations. To keep our bloodline pure,” Prince Aemond points out, eye sharp as it focuses on your brother. “I don’t expect you to understand, nephew, but-…” 

“What is it you are implying?” 

“Hm,” He muses, gaze piercing, calculating. “I mean only to point out that you and your sister weren’t married, as Baelon and Alyssa, as Jaehaerys and Alysanne were. It is quite apparent to me why, is it not to you?”

Jace moves to stand, and Aemond refuses to let the challenge go unanswered, returning the cup to the table to welcome your brother’s advance with empty hands.  

Looking across the table at your father, you silently beg him to interfere, but Daemon is entirely too preoccupied with Aemond, assessing him as who looks at a cyvasse table to plan their next move. 

“Speak these falsehoods at your peril, uncle.” 

“What falsehoods, hm?” He taunts, his cruelty sharp and honed like a sword, “We are family, both by bonds of blood and of marriage now. Isn’t it time we stop pretending?” 

A chair screeches against the wooden floor as Luke moves to stand as well, to defend himself as well, to answer to insult with violence. With a moment of hesitation with trepidation widening her dark eyes, Rhaena stands as well. 

“Sit.” Baela hisses the command, and to your surprise both of them obey without question. You’ve seen soldiers follow orders slower. 

It is only when he sits back down that you notice Aegon too was moving to stand, no doubt to defend his brother. You look at him with raised brows, and he answers to your unspoken question as to why he obeyed your Baela’s command with a gesture of his hands as if to say what else he is supposed to do. 

Amidst the tension and the madness, you find yourself resisting the urge to laugh, and shake your head, looking away from him. You notice the smile on his lips, though, even as he too turns his attention back to Baela. 

With one last glance spared at Rhaena and Luke, it is then that Baela turns her attention to Aemond. 

She has mastered the mocking and belittling look her father directs at his children whenever they defy him, and the slight smirk curving at her lips only manages to add insult to injury. 

Aemond shifts in his place, but refuses to give any ground. Instead of recognizing her challenge, her taunt, he turns his attention to your brother again. 

“Now your brother and stepsisters fight to defend you, nephew?” 

“It does your skill a disservice, My Prince, if you believe this a fight at all,” Baela retorts, the grace of her mother and the venom of her father. The way her eyes remain relentlessly trained on Aemond reminds you of a bird of prey on a hunt. “And a disservice to your family, if you mean to imply it is dishonorable that we defend our own.” 

A mocking little hm leaves Aemond’s lips, one-eyed gaze flickering between your brother and Baela. 

“You might wish to reconsider who you consider your own, My Lady,” He taunts. A breath, two, and then his sharp gaze turns to you, before he adds, “As your sister did.” 

“Excuse me?” You ask, but neither care for an argument about your true parentage, and to be honest, neither do you. It is only a few moments later that you understand the implication in his words, that you hear the certainty that your marriage to Aegon will earn them your loyalty. 

Baela scoffs, “You are more of an imbecile than I thought if you believe that.” 

“Baela!” Princess Rhaenys chastises, but she cares not for it. 

Aemond answers with mocking laugh that only enrages her further. 

The Queen reaches over the table and grasps for her son, fingers digging like claws into his arm as she hisses some words you do not hear. It seems he doesn’t either, for he shakes off his mother’s grip and turns to face your half-sister. 

“I see you do not deny it your shared blood with the Princess. Good for you, My Lady,” Aemond’s gaze turns from Baela to your brother, and a cruel twist of his lips aids the venom to drip from his words, “My dear nephew here could stand to learn to be prouder of his family.” 

What feels like a dozen voices start speaking at once then, accusations and insults from both sides, the elder voices -the voices at fault for this madness, attempting to bring hounds to heel long after they’ve tasted blood- attempting in vain to speak over the chaos. 

And in that moment, you are five and ten once again, Luke’s nose has been broken and Aemond’s eye taken, the smell of blood lingers in the air and shrill little voices argue, shouting over one another; and the King calls for silence but they don’t listen, bloodthirsty little beasts, what is left of children after a lifetime of licking their inherited wounds.  

But it has been years since then, and the wounds are now their own, made by their own hands and adorning their own bodies, in some more evidently than in others. They remain, however, as bloodthirsty as before. 

A passing comment by Otto Hightower is enough to make Daemon’s fist hit the table, and the two engage one another, trading verbal blows with a practice older than any of their children; while Vaemond Velaryon’s reaction to Aemond’s accusations make Corlys chastise his brother, starting yet another argument. 

A low call of your name draws your attention from the chaos erupting on every corner of this room, and you turn to your left to find Aegon has stood from the table, and is offering a hand to you. 

“Huh?” Your eyes dart between his hand and his eyes. He smiles, expectant and daring. 

He motions with his head to a small door the servants have used to come and go, an invitation. 

You only realized you have made your choice, that you let your hand slip into the offered hold of is, when you are being pulled into standing, when you are fighting back laughter as amidst the chaos you let him guide you out of the room and into the servant halls that run through the Keep. 

Thank you for reading! I hope this was alright, and at least worth the wait!

Also, to make this shorter I had to cut the “reunion” between Reader and Rhaenyra and Jace. If you’d like to read that, drop an ask or something and I’ll post it.

Next Chapter >>

Taglist: @21-princess @mrs-starkgaryen @nymeriiiia @akari-rioan @dottie-witch

[janeyseymour]

Sweet Like Honey

Summary: a request from a long time ago that the reader has bad anxiety. The staff begins to talk about R and her life choices... Melissa finds out and takes matters into her own hands.

WC: ~3.75k

Growing up with debilitating anxiety was not fun. From the time you were young, you were anxious. You barely talked in school, social gatherings made you nervous, eating out in public made your heart race, being in new places was a huge challenge.

As you grew older, the smaller things became easier for you, but with age, other things became challenges. Dating was practically out of the question, and other anxieties filled the spots that you grew out of.

The idea of getting older and having to become an adult was daunting, but you managed. You surprised yourself in an odd way too- the profession you chose is known to be an anxiety-inducing one: teaching. And yet, you’re fantastic at it. Because when push comes to shove, everything you do is for the kids. It’s selfless, and you can put your anxieties aside when you’re looking out for someone that isn’t yourself.

Sure, things like parent-teacher conferences, open house nights, and the idea of having to go to social gatherings with your coworkers rattles you, but you’re a natural when it comes to working with the children.

The one thing that makes all of the stressors of teaching and life just the slightest bit easier? You’re married to the redheaded second grade teacher. If anybody asked you, you would quickly tell them that you have no idea how you got Melissa Schemmenti to marry you. She is the exact opposite of you- strong and hardheaded, able to speak her mind, loud and crass. And yet the two of you fit perfectly together, and your marriage is one of the happier relationships you’ve seen. She’s able to help you stand up for yourself, and you have a way of keeping her calm and relaxed when she gets a bit too fired up about something.

Even with having your wonderful spouse at work with you, there are moments where she can’t quite be there for you in times of trouble. So it’s safe to say that some of the staff has caught you in moments that you can’t quite say are some of your best.

Barbara has caught you with your head in your hands on days where you’re stressed with teaching and also Melissa because she’s sick. Janine knows that you have a hard time when it comes to report cards because she’s had the unfortunate pleasure of finding you in the copy room practically ripping out your hair. Jacob and Mr. Morton have witnessed tears during periods of classroom buddy times. Ava has seen you in tears more times than you are willing to admit. Gregory, as your grade level partner, has come to realize that planning things out and things not going to plan induce more anxiety in you than it does in him, and that’s saying a lot. And Melissa sees all of this, and then some when the two of you are in the comfort of your own home. There have been many nights that end with you curled up next to her, tears drying on your face as she holds you and promises you that everything will be okay.

Today is… it isn’t a great day. You wake up in a sweat because of an anxiety riddled dream about only God knows what (you wish you could remember). Your wife asks you to drive to work today, which is quite uncommon. The redhead knows that you aren’t necessarily fond of driving in the city, especially during rush hours, but her head hurts. So you nod nervously and just barely got the two of you to school today without any tears. Then during the staff meeting, Ava dumps a shit ton of new information on you that makes you want to cry. And then after, a few of the other teachers ask questions that only make your anxiety worse about having to carry out these new testing periods, and your tears do begin to fall.

You feel a gentle squeeze of your hand as the pad of your wife’s thumb wipes your tears. She looks at you with those warm, comforting eyes that she saves for when you need to be grounded. All you can do is nod half-heartedly and look down in your lap for the rest of the staff meeting.

As soon as the faculty is dismissed from the library, you’re out of your seat and booking it down to your classroom. Melissa follows you silently, and as soon as you’re in the confines of your own classroom with the door closed, your tears begin to fall at a rapid pace. When your wife asks you to talk about what has you so overwhelmed, you reduced to small gasps for air as she strokes your hair softly and coaches you through different breathing exercises. Only once you’ve come down from a mild anxiety attack do you let out your fears.

“I’m going to fail,” you whisper. “I don’t want to fail.”

She frowns, and the lines in her forehead only deepen as she looks at you with a sadness in her eyes. “Honey, you won’t fail. You never do.”

“It’s becoming too much,” you say shakily. “When I became a teacher, I- I wasn’t expecting it to be this hard.”

“Amore,” the redhead sighs softly as her soft hands begin to trace patterns on your shoulder. “How many times have we been thrown curveballs working here?”

You shrug your shoulders up and down and give her a pitiful look. “A lot.”

“And we always make it through, yeah? Even when it gets hard, we always lean on each other and get it done, right?”

You nod your head, just barely.

“So what would make this situation any different?”

“We- we’re getting new programs for all of our core subjects, we have to learn all new testing and data methods, and-”

“And we’re going to be just fine. We always break it down into smaller tasks so it isn’t as daunting, and we always have each other and the rest of the group to help us out, right?”

“Right,” you huff quietly. “But I-”

“Hun, I get that you’re nervous about this. Hell, so am I, if I’m being honest. But we’re going to be okay. We always are,” Melissa promises you with a soft kiss to the temple.

“You’re right,” you tell your wife with the smallest smile.

The corners of her lips turn upwards, and she presses another warm kiss to your hairline. “When are you just going to admit that I’m always right?” she teases you.

“Well,” you chuckle through the last of your tears. “There was that one time…”

Green eyes are rolled playfully. “And you’ll never let me forget it. Now, how about we go meet with the group and try to figure out the important bits of all the convoluted shit Ava was yappin’ on about?”

You take a deep breath and shake your hands out before standing from your chair and putting on a brave face.

After this morning’s episode, your friends are a lot more gentle with you. Any time that the two of you are together, your wife is by your side trying to provide as much silent comfort as possible.

Unfortunately for you, your lunch was taken from you by a student issue, so the only time for you to eat is during your preparation period while your students are in gym class. And while your kids have gym, your wife is busy teaching her children about only God knows what- math, but how is she teaching it is a wonder to you. You take the long way around the school just to get a glimpse into her classroom, and you can see her sitting at her desk with a soft smile as she helps one of her students. It makes your heart warm. And then you’re on your way to the staff lounge to retrieve some of the leftover polenta your wife had made for dinner the previous night.

Right before you push the door open though, you can hear the third grade teachers chatting. And they’re… they’re talking about you. 

“Don’t you just think it’s weird that a woman with that much anxiety about… literally everything is a teacher?” you can hear one of the women say.

You hear collective hums. And then another teacher pipes up. “And it’s even weirder to see Schemmenti go all soft for her… That ain’t the Melissa we started with.”

“That’s for damn sure.”

“How do you think that one ended up with her?”

“That’s the million dollar question,” another laughs. “I know it wasn’t Y/N. She was probably scared to shit the first time Melissa even tried to talk to her.”

“I kinda miss scary Schemmenti,” an older teacher says. “Those were the days… threatening parents and grandparents. Where’d that one go? Now she’s soft as hell.”

“Well, when you end up with someone like that-“ You can practically hear the disgust in your colleagues voice. “-You can’t be like that anymore. You gotta turn into Miss Honey or she’d lose her shit damn near every day. Pathetic. Holding her back, really.”

“It’s a damn shame,” the first teacher says. “I used to respect the hell outta Schemmenti for not lettin’ no one get in her way, but now… about as soft as Barbara Howard.”

Instinctively, you want to cry. But you know you can’t do that. You have to get your lunch, and then you can’t go fall into the arms of your wife. You have to return back to your own classroom and attempt to look at the new curriculum, despite the fact that it makes your heart rate skyrocket to even think about it. And now that you know what people think of the two of you… you almost don’t want to. You want to prove to them… and maybe yourself, that you’re a lot more than what they think of you.

So, with a soft smile, you push the door open and give your colleagues a wave. Your lunch is retrieved quickly, and you make your way out with nothing else said.

As the door is closing, you can hear one of them ask, “Do you think she heard us?”

“If she did, she’d be in tears. I think we’re good.”

You did. You heard everything they said, and you silently grin victoriously- you didn’t let the tears fall down your face like they so desperately wanted to.

Only once you’re in the confines of your classroom do you let the sobs that want to rack your body out. You allow yourself to feel everything, even as you scroll through page after page of information on your computer. And ten minutes before you have to pick your kids up from specials, you pull yourself together and ensure in that you look put together enough to go out into the hallways and have no one suspect a thing.

You make it through the rest of the day unscathed and without any trace of tears or suspicion that you’re upset with anything. You see the kids out for the day with a smile on your face, and when you catch a glance at your wife during dismissal, she smiles at you broadly. It’s clear to you that she was not expecting you to be in such high spirits what with everything happening at the school lately- and she doesn’t even know what you had overheard earlier in the day.

You’re even able to manage to keep that smile on your face as Melissa drives home. You don’t speak anything of the lunch room conversation, allowing her to believe that everything was perfect and beautiful.

And when the redhead pulls into the driveway and brings your knuckles up to her lips, you practically melt.

Over dinner, she does ask how you’re faring with the new curriculum. As opposed to bursting into tears and becoming an anxiety riddled mess like she expects you to, you give her the most confident smile you can muster up.

“I’ll be fine,” you tell her.

Melissa raises her brow. That was not what she was expecting. It’s clear your wife was ready to hold you through the rest of the night while you spiraled, as you tend to do when routines and normalities are changed in your life. 

“That’s good, hun,” she tells you, although it’s clear she’s trying to see if you’re being serious. 

You just nod along before helping to clean up dinner that night.

As you settle on the couch, you don’t sit quite as close to your wife as you usually would. On a normal night, you practically curl into her side and lounge across her. But after today, you think that maybe you need to back off.

In bed, you’re used to wrapping an arm around Melissa and falling asleep with a mouthful of red hair. But tonight, you lay in your own space.

“What’re you doing?” the woman you married asks.

You just turn to face her, brows creased. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you usually snuggle up,” Melissa tells you.

You shrug softly. “‘m hot tonight.”

That gets the second grade teacher to prop herself up on her elbows. She frowns. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Just hot,” you sigh softly. “I’m fine. Go to bed, hun.”

Your wife eyes you suspiciously for a few seconds before sighing. She leans over to kiss you. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The days continue on like this- you pretending that you’re more than fine. In reality, your anxiety spikes everyday more so than usual. But you fight off those feelings of nervousness and continue to put on a brave face.

It takes Melissa a week of your unusual confidence to finally confront you about the distancing you’ve been doing. You’ve been taking your lunch during your preparation period, you haven’t brought up the fact that you’re stressed about the new systems being put into place at work, you don’t cozy up to her on the couch or in bed anymore. It’s… what is happening? Are you mad at her?

“So,” your wife sighs quietly once you’ve changed into pajamas and are sitting on the couch together to watch whatever is on. You turn to look at her. “Are you mad at me?”

Your brows furrow, and you shake your head. “No? Why would I be mad at you, babe?”

“I dunno,” Melissa shrugs. She takes your hand gently. “I just feel like you’ve been distancing yourself from me since last Tuesday.”

“No,” you say immediately. “I’m not mad at you, and I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve been distancing myself.”

“Why are you?” your wife asks softly.

“Why am I what?”

“Distancing yourself…” The redhead trails off before sighing and fiddling with her fingers. “Not showin’ up to eat lunch together, or not talkin’ to me really, or bein’ close to me.”

“I-“ Your eyes flit to hers, and you can see she’s wounded by your actions, or lack thereof. “I’ve just been busy, honey.”

“Doing?” Melissa prompts.

You shrug. “Trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to do with these new systems and all.”

Melissa quirks her lips. “We usually do that together.”

“I figured I would try to figure it out,” you tell her quietly. “Y-you know?”

Green eyes look to yours. “We usually do it together,” she repeats. “So you don’t get so stressed you can’t eat or nothin’.”

“I’ve been eating,” you argue weakly. “And I just wanted to… try to figure it out for us so that you could keep up with your students, and I wouldn’t hold you back.”

“Hold me back?” Your wife’s eyes get big. “What the hell does that mean?”

You shrug and finally dare to look at her for more than a split second. She sees in that instant that something happened to have you feeling this way.

“What happened, mi amore?”

Whatever was holding you together this entire week breaks, and you crumble. You tell her how you’ve been concerned with work, but also that you heard the teachers questioning your choice in becoming a teacher despite your near debilitating anxiety issues. You see the way Melissa angrily clenches and unclenches her jaw as you tell her these things.

And then you whisper, “And they were questioning how the two of us ever got together.”

“Why the hell would they do that?” Your wife’s eyes fill with fire. “They ain’t got no business talking about-”

“Said that since we got together, you haven’t been the Melissa they started with,” you hiccup out. “Th- that to be with someone like me, you have to be like Miss Honey, or I’d lose my shit everyday, and I-”

“Jesus Christ,” Melissa grumbles as she pulls you into her arms and holds you close. “I swear to God, tomorrow I’m ripping someone a-”

“And so it got me think- thinking,” you mumble. “That I’m not good enough for you if you can’t be the tough Schemmenti that you are deep down… that I’m just holding you back from finding a true love and happiness.”

You feel a soft hand cup your cheek, and you’re forced to look into emerald eyes filled with so much love and determination. “Mi amore, I want you to understand one thing: You are more than enough for me.”

“But what if-”

“There is no if,” your wife tells you firmly. “You are more than enough for me, and you do not hold me back. You make me better. I am the happiest that I’ve ever been with you right by my side for these last years.”

“But you used to be so respected because you were tough, and now you’re…”

“A little softer, yes,” Melissa smiles at you. “But I wouldn’t change that shit for the world if it means I get to have you by my side. And if these people want a tough Schemmenti, they’re sure as hell gonna get her now that I know they’re saying shit like this.”

“Mel, it’s fine,” you whisper. “I’ll be fine, just like you always tell me.”

“You might be fine, but they ain’t. No way they go around talking about you and questioning your teaching abilities, and then our marriage.”

That night, you find your place back into your wife’s arms as you crawl into bed. As your drifting off, she kisses your head and tells you that you’re it for her- there is no better than you. You get the best night’s sleep that you have in a week. It feels good to be held again.

The next day, you fall back into your old routine, but you have to admit you’re a bit of a nervous mess to walk back into Abbott knowing your wife could go off at any point when she realizes who was talking about the two of you.

It doesn’t take her long. You’re both sitting there enjoying your morning cups of coffee, fingers interlaced, when the group of teachers who was gossiping about the two of you walks in. Your wife catches the way they roll their eyes before nudging each other in a playful manner. The teacher who stated that she missed the old Schemmenti snickers.

Melissa frowns. “You got something you wanna share with the class, Jodie?” 

The woman just hums. The second grade teacher looks to you, and a silent nod tells her that this is the group that you had overheard the other week.

“Oh, I think you do,” your wife smiles all too sweetly for the venom practically dripping out of her voice. “So, go ahead. Or would you rather I tell you what I know?”

“Lissa,” you tug on her arm gently. “Just leave it. It’s fine.”

Jodie smirks. It looks like because you’re going to calm your wife, she isn’t going to get the third degree. Oh, how wrong she is.

“So, why the hell were my and my wife’s names comin’ out of your mouths last week?” The redhead crosses her arms over her chest. She dares them to answer.

Your coworker opens and closes her mouth a few times, clearly looking for her words, but she comes up empty.

So Melissa jumps in. She practically jumps down your colleagues throats as she berates them for not only speaking of you in such a way, but for doing it where you could hear them. “You’re filling her head with a bunch of bullshit that she isn’t a good enough teacher, or-”

“Cause she’s not,” Jodie dares to huff.

Oh, if looks could kill. Barbara ends up coming in while your wife is screaming in the other teacher’s face, and she has to practically pull your wife out of the room kicking and screaming.

Your wife’s work wife is only able to hold her back for so long before Melissa comes storming back into the room. “And how dare you to go as far as questioning our marriage? Insinuating that she isn’t good enough for me, and then calling her pathetic? You thought I turned soft? Yeah, for her. For the rest of youse, watch it, because you don’t know who you’re messing with.” She points an accusatory finger at each of them, before turning to you. You watch as the anger disappears from her eyes. And for as rough and gravelly as her voice had been while she was addressing your coworkers, it turns straight to honey for you.

“C’mon babe,” Melissa stretches her hand out and takes yours gently in her own. “Leave these pathetic losers, and we can go enjoy our coffee in my room.”

Frozen in your place, you just continue to stare at the redhead. She- she’s terrifying when she’s pissed. But at the same time, she just defended your honor, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on. You’re only broken from your trance when you feel her arm wrap around your waist and begin to force you walk with her. You halt for a brief second, just to pick up your hot drinks, and then you’re on your way down the hall.

Your coworkers just stare at each other as they try to comprehend what just took place.

And your wife can say one thing: Melissa may have softened up as the years have gone on, but it doesn’t take much for her to bring back to rough and tumble side of her- especially when it comes to defending you.

Tags (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie

[wonusite]

Licentious

❝ Wonwoo has always been a scrupulous man, but he’s quick to abandon all his morals after his wife hires a cute babysitter to look after their daughter. ❞

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x female reader

WORD COUNT: 7.1k

GENRE: babysitter au, cheating au, smut

WARNINGS: dilf!wonwoo, babysitter!reader, infidelity, age gap (reader is in her 20s and wonwoo is in his 30s), dacryphilia, dumbification, daddy kink, oral sex (f & m receiving), face riding, face fucking, possessiveness, unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation, multiple creampies, cum eating, cock drunk!reader, pussy drunk!wonwoo

a/n: this was written because i’m still not over this photo shoot and because it’s wonwoo day! minors dni!

You should feel disgusting, ashamed, guilty, or even the tiniest bit of regret. But you don’t. All that’s left is a deep-rooted longing and carnal desire that can’t be suppressed.

The strong arm wrapped around your torso pulls you impossibly closer, a slender nose nuzzling deeper into your neck. You lick your lips and press your cum-stained thighs together. Oddly enough, you can’t even overthink. All you focus on is the comfortable warmth lulling you to sleep.

The fact that the addicting warmth is coming from your boss who’s married doesn’t make it hard to fall into peaceful sleep.

The dynamic in the Jeon family is odd. From the moment you stepped into the house to babysit the married couple’s one-year-old daughter, you took notice of the disconnect and hostility between the pair. This came as a shock since they had seemed like the perfect couple when they interviewed you.

It isn’t until Mrs. Jeon comes home one night with a man that is most definitely not her husband that you realize this picture perfect family is anything but. The older woman didn’t beg or plead with you not to tell her husband. Instead, she asked through slurred words if you could take her daughter upstairs to her room and stay with her for the night. Icky as it was, you did as you were told.

You wondered if it was your place to say anything, but the choice was ultimately taken from you the next time you were asked to babysit. The housekeeper had let you inside their home during one of their screaming matches. Apparently Wonwoo already knew about his wife’s promiscuous activities. It surprised you to find out he was more angry that she didn’t care to be a good mother. Mrs. Jeon responded that she never wanted to be one in the first place and only did so to placate him and save their failing marriage.

Needless to say, you spent the rest of the night in Hana’s room.

You texted your friend in a panic. She had helped you get the job, so you didn’t feel right about making her look bad by abruptly quitting. Although she reassured you that she would support you no matter what you decided to do, you still felt sorry.

Maybe it’s because you feel the need to not let her down or maybe it’s because of the little girl with huge brown eyes that you’ve grown inexplicably attached to, but you decide to stay.

Things don’t change or get better with time. It’s not your place to judge what’s going on which is why you mind your business despite the tension between in the house only getting worse by the day. The only thing that makes it tolerable is not only the adorable baby you take care of, but the man who hired you. Jeon Wonwoo the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and he’s also extremely sweet and such a good dad.

You feel only slightly guilty that you’ve developed a crush on your boss, but it’s quick to disappear when you realize that sweet Mr. Jeon is still loyal to his wife even though she couldn’t be any more terrible to him. The impure feelings consume you more and more as your boss starts to spend his days at the large house. He started working from home since his wife decided to spend her time out of the house and coming home late or not at all.

Part of you feels disgusted and resentful, but when she confesses to you after one of her nights out that she only married him to please her parents, you feel a bit sympathetic. Still, you can’t understand how she involves her precious daughter in the problems she’s had for years.

There’s a part of you that wonders if you only being able to babysit part time is of any actual help. Since you’re still a full time student, you can’t always be there to watch the cute little girl. It makes you feel sorry because you can see all the stress Wonwoo is feeling.

You feel sick for even fantasizing about helping him relieve that stress.

None of this matters since you don’t plan on acting on your inappropriate feelings. That is, until you show up to the grand mansion soaked from head to toe.

“Y/N.” Wonwoo is quick to usher you inside when he opens the door and sees you completely drenched. “What happened? I tried to call—”

“My phone died.” You say, shivering as you step in the large foyer. “I got caught in the rain. Sorry.”

“Don't be. Let me get you a towel.”

He’s quick to return with a fluffy towel that’s softer than any other towel you’ve felt in your life. It almost makes you want to reject it for fear of ruining it.

Wonwoo leads you through the living room where you see his wife passed out on the couch, two bottles of wine and an empty glass on the coffee table in front of her. You’re quick to direct your stare elsewhere, not wanting to know the details behind that.

“I’m sorry you came all this way. My sister-in-law is watching Hana since Yerin and I got into a fight.”

You feel awkward since you came all this way for nothing and the storm outside showed no signs of clearing up. Wonwoo must sense how uncomfortable you feel because he leads you upstairs to the master bedroom.

“Why don’t you stay here for the night? It’s late, and I don’t feel comfortable letting you leave in this weather.” His tone is friendly but leaves no room for arguments. “You can use our bathroom to take a shower. Leave your wet clothes in the hamper and I’ll stick them in the dryer.”

You thank him, feeling your heart thumping erratically like it always does when you’re around him. Wonwoo offers you a kind smile before leaving you alone. It’s strange for you to step into the luxury shower that’s used by your boss and his wife. You try to stop your mind from wandering too much and focus on getting clean.

When you’re done, you notice there’s no towels around, only a fluffy bath robe that looks completely new. Without much of a choice, you slip into it and step back into the bedroom.

Wonwoo is sitting on the large bed. He gives you a kind smile as you walk over and sit by him. It’s silent for a moment until you decide to break it. Maybe you’re crossing a line by doing it, but you can’t stand to see the sweetest man you’ve ever met in such turmoil.

“Are you okay?”

Your boss’s shoulders sag. “Not really. I’m not sure what to do anymore. I know Yerin is unhappy, but we can’t just break our family apart. Why can’t she think about our daughter?”

He sounds so vulnerable that it makes your heart break. You fight the urge to give him a hug.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo breathes out, running a tense hand through his hair. “This isn’t your problem—”

“It’s okay.” You reassure him. “And I’m sorry. Even if you get a divorce, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good dad.”

Wonwoo turns to look at you with shining eyes. He gives you a smile that you easily return. “Thank you for saying that. It means a lot.”

“It’s true.” You tell him honestly. “You’re considerate and kind. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

You belatedly realize that your words could be considered inappropriate, but the intent gaze you’re receiving isn’t disapproving. Somehow, the air has turned different.

“Yeah?” His deep voice has taken a raspy tone that’s driving you insane.

“Yeah.”

Your heart is leaping up to your throat, and before you know it, you’re both leaning in. Wonwoo slides an arm around your waist and tugs you closer until your practically on his lap. His other hand slides up to cup your face before his lips collide with yours.

The kiss starts off slow, both of you wanting to savor the feeling and taste of each other. Your mind becomes clouded with lust, and it seems to get worse when you feel his thumb gently caress your face. It’s not long before the sweet kiss turns demanding and hungry.

Your hands seem to move on their own as they caress his chest and broad shoulders. You start to tug on the shirt that’s tucked into his pants, wanting it to come off. Wonwoo relents easily. He pulls away from your lips to rip the shirt off.

You only get a split second to admire how good his chest and abs look before you feel the top of your robe being yanked open. Wonwoo’s eyes are dark as he takes in your pretty tits that he’s imagined countless times. He eases you on to his lap fully so you’re straddling him before he brings your chest to his awaiting lips. Wonwoo latches his hot mouth on one of your hardened nipples, tongue licking and swirling around the hardened bud.

You cry out in pleasure, cunt throbbing with need. Wonwoo gives the same attention to your other nipple as he pinches and pulls the one that’s covered in his saliva. All you can do is moan and whimper pathetically, feeling like you can come from him sucking on your tits alone.

“So pretty.” Wonwoo groans as he presses wet kisses on your tits, licking and sucking on every bit of exposed skin on your chest.

His impressive bulge keeps brushing against your wet cunt, and you start to purposely grind down on him so he can fuck you like you both want.

Wonwoo smirks at your actions, loving how the robe falling around your elbows is open enough to give him a peek at your stomach. “Such a needy little bunny. You that desperate for my cock?”

God, his deep voice is going to make you implode from sexual frustration. It seems like he’s going to Keep teasing you, so you’re left with no choice but to use a trick that’s always worked for you in the past.

“Want it so bad, daddy.”

You have to hold back your smirk when Wonwoo’s cock twitches under you. His gaze sharpens and becomes impossibly darker. Wonwoo’s large hands sneak under your robe to knead your bare ass before pushing you forward to grind your dripping cunt against his growing bulge. You whine out, loving how his hands feel on you.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” Wonwoo coos into your neck before he places a gentle kiss on it. “Let daddy use you how he wants?”

Your pussy clenches at his words, and you can’t even be ashamed when you quickly nod with eagerness. His teeth gently nip at your neck before he pulls back and gives you a heated look.

“Then show me how much you want this cock.”

You lick your lips and move to get off his lap, letting the robe fall to the ground. The way Wonwoo looks at you like he wants to eat you makes more arousal drip out of you. You kneel between his legs, mouth salivating as Wonwoo starts to unbuckle his belt to pull out his dick.

His cock is huge—the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s thick and long and connected two heavy balls that are full of cum. You’re going crazy at the thought of having him inside you and fucking you full of cum until you can’t think. Wonwoo’s dick slaps against his taut stomach, and you wait all of two seconds to get your hands on it.

With eagerness that makes precum ooze from Wonwoo’s throbbing tip, you grip his fat cock and spit on his bulbous head. The guttural groan he lets out when you start licking up the length makes you wetter. You envelop his tip with your hot mouth, slobbering all over him as you swirl your tongue around to lick the cum spilling from him.

Wonwoo moans, running a gentle hand through your hair. He feels like he’s already fucked out and you just started.

You feel your jaw has to hurt when you start to fully take the rest of his cock into your mouth. The weight on your tongue makes you hum. Sucking dick always made you wet, but the fact that it’s your boss’s cock is making you drip all over the floor. You start to bob your head talking him deeper until all you can hear are the pretty moans he’s letting out.

Wonwoo can’t look away. Your mouth is full of cock and your pretty tits are bouncing with every bob. You look completely irresistible, on you knees for him. It makes him regret not getting to this point with you sooner.

You pull off his cock when he starts twitching in your throat, wanting to tease him just enough to get him to fuck you the way you know he can. Placing gentle kisses along the thick vein, your hand trails down to massage his balls. You’re drooling all over his cock, looking so fuckable that Wonwoo nearly blows his load right then and there.

“So fucking pretty.” Wonwoo murmurs softly as he goes to caress your hair.

His words make a burning desire ignite in your stomach, and you let out a needy whimper before sucking one of his big balls into your mouth. You start to fist his cock, gazing up at him with hooded eyes.

“Want you to fuck my mouth, daddy.” You moan, voice slightly muffled by his sack.

Wonwoo’s cock throbs at your words. Fuck. He’s going to absolutely ruin you.

Your boss grips your hair and pulls you off. He slaps his leaking tip on your mouth, smearing his precum all over your lips. Wonwoo’s eyes are the color of the dark sky outside as he nudges his cock into your mouth. “Be a good bunny for daddy.”

His cock eases down your throat, making you gag slightly. But you take it all, not caring that your eyes are starting to water. Wonwoo starts to buck his hips, balls slapping against your chin as his cock hits the back of your throat. His moans are silent as his heavy dick throbs against your tongue.

Your drool and his precum starts to drip down your chin, and you feel his cock start to pulse inside your mouth. He gives a few more thrusts before he’s emptying his balls into you mouth. You happily swallow every drop of his thick cum, moaning around him in pure bliss.

“Such a good girl.” Wonwoo says through quiet pants.

He pulls his dick out of your mouth, affectionately caressing your head. A string of saliva connects to his throbbing tip as you gaze up at him with the most alluring look he’s ever seen. Wonwoo pulls you up until you’re laying on his chest. His mouth is on yours in a second, tongue invading your mouth to taste every inch of you.

Wonwoo trails a hand down your body, pausing to squeeze a handful of your ass. You moan into his mouth when he trails his fingertips to your wet cunt. Fuck. You’re already so wet and ready for him. He pulls away from your sweet lips and looks at you with ravenous desire.

“Want my mouth on your pussy, baby?” His eyes are wild with desire as you let out a cute little whimper and nod furiously.

In the next second you’re hovering over Wonwoo’s face. His strong hands grip your thighs before they jerk you down and make you sink your cunt on his awaiting tongue. You gasp out in pleasure when you feel Wonwoo’s tongue split through your folds. He groans against you, already addicted to your taste.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart.” Wonwoo’s voice is muffled, the vibrations feel delicious against your quivering pussy. “Ride my face and let daddy taste your sweet cream.”

You start to roll your hips, moaning as you feel Wonwoo’s tongue swirls around your wet cunt. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are. Your juices are pouring out of your cunt and covering every inch of his lower face every time you rock your hips.

“Ah!” You cry out, fucked out gasps tumbling past your lips when your boss’s nose bumps against your clit.

Wonwoo spreads you wider for him, using his lips to envelop your pulsing clit before giving it a harsh suck. The moan you let out when he starts to make out with your pussy is downright pornographic. Lewd squelching sounds are bouncing off the walls, and it sounds so good paired with your cute little cries of daddy, daddy, daddy!

“That’s it, baby.” Wonwoo groans into your dripping cunt. “Use daddy's face.”

One of his hands is still holding on to your thigh to keep you in place. The other one is drawing back to caress the globe of your ass. Then, his large hand comes down to slap it, hard. His actions catch you off-guard. It sends a thrill to your cunt and you moan out way too loudly.

“Fuck, daddy!”

Your pussy tightens around Wonwoo’s tongue as he happily drinks up all the arousal coming out of you. He happily hums against you, loving how vocal you are.

“Such a good little bunny. Let Yerin know that your rubbing this sweet little cunt all over her husband’s face.” Wonwoo whispers filthily, slapping your ass one more time to get you to cry out for him again. “Let her hear how good daddy’s making you feel.”

Honestly, you had been so lost in your pleasure that you forgot his wife was downstairs, passed out. But you don’t fucking care. Part of you almost wants her to wake up and hear how good her husband is making you feel.

You cry out again when you feel long fingers entering your pulsing cunt. Wonwoo roughly pumps his fingers in and out of you, wet slapping sounds filling the room as he continues to suck your clit.

All your senses go into overload when you feel his bare teeth against your bundle of nerves. Wonwoo lightly bites down and nips at the sensitive flesh, making you moan loudly. You throw your head back, prolonging your loud cries not caring that his stupid wife is just downstairs because you’re squirting all over her husband's face.

“Fuh-fuck! Daddy!”

Wonwoo’s strong enough to keep your thigh pinned down with one hand. He keeps you in place even when it gets to be too much. Your pussy is twitching and feels unbearably sensitive. The intensity of your orgasm has your legs feeling boneless like jelly. But this isn't enough for your boss.

“Keep riding my fucking face, baby. Fuck, you’re making daddy so hard right now.”

You look down and a newfound thrill takes over you at the sight of Wonwoo below you, face covered in your juices. His tongue licks all around his lips before he brings them back to your wet cunt. You’re in awe by how much of your cream is on his face, and how much of your slick is still pouring out of your pussy. It’s almost like you’re leaking all for him.

You fist his hair in one of your hands while the other comes up to pinch and pull at one of your nipples. Wonwoo groans into your wet lips as you start to grind and rub your pussy all over his face. He flattens his tongue to lick a long trail up and down your slit before he swirls it around and around your puffy bundle of nerves. Your arousal is leaking on his face and dripping down on the mattress below.

Fuck. Never have you been this wet before.

“Fuck, bunny. You’re so fucking hot.” Wonwoo moans, giving your ass another hard smack.

He keeps slapping your ass, loving how the flesh jiggles softly every time. You’re wriggling against him, but that does is cause delicious friction. Wonwoo’s nose glides over your clit, making you cry out for him. You’re so obscenely wet that you think he might drown in your arousal. Even so, you can’t help grind down on him because the delicious feeling of him fucking you with his tongue is too addicting.

“Feels so fucking good, daddy!” You cry, rocking against him faster, roughly fucking yourself on his tongue.

Your eager moans and whimpers has him clamping down on your clit like before, sucking on it like his life depends on it. Wonwoo slides his hands up from your thighs to your hips to move you forwards and backwards and sideways all over his face. His actions cause a slippery mess that has you moaning and crying screaming his name in abandon as you squirt all over his face for the second time.

“Da-Daddy—ah!” The grip on his hair is probably painful, but you don’t care and Wonwoo doesn’t seem to either as he laps up every drop of your release.

His face is so indecently wet with your arousal as you weakly ride out your high. It’s possibly the most intense orgasm of your life. You swear you can see stars behind your eyes as your entire body shakes with pleasure—red hot waves of pleasure that only Wonwoo has ever made you feel.

A weak whimper tumbles past your lips, completely fucked out when Wonwoo finally releases you from his powerful grip. You sag down to the mattress like a limp doll. You’re completely sated as Wonwoo sits up to caress your tear-stained cheek. It makes a fluttering feeling invade your chest.

“Such a good girl.” He coos, eyes clouded with fondness. “My pretty little bunny.”

Wonwoo swoops down to press his lips to yours so you can taste yourself on him. He starts to make out with you languidly, exploring every inch of your mouth until he can no longer taste your cream.

“Daddy.” You breathe out, cunt still pulsing with need. “You’re gonna give me your cock now, right?”

His eyes are dark as he drinks in your naked body. Truthfully, he had planned to stop since it seemed like your orgasms were pretty intense. But with you asking so prettily and cutely, he can’t deny your wish. Wonwoo feels his desire turn into an insatiable hunger when you watch him with carnal lust as he undresses completely.

Seconds later, he kneels between your open thighs and spreads you apart. Wonwoo spits on your soiled cunt before he sinks into your tonight walls. He lets out a guttural groan, obsessed with the way you’re squeezing him. You moan along with him, wrapping your arms around him as his fat cock splits you open.

Wonwoo’s pace is brutal from the start, deeply ramming into your tight pussy as if he’ll never get the chance again. You know that won’t be the case, though. It seems like he wants to have you more than once, and you already know you’ll let him have you all the times he desires.

“You’ve been keeping this tight little cunt from me, sweetheart.” Wonwoo moans as he hunches over you, one hand beside you head while the other is on your hip, pulling you to meet his harsh thrusts.

You feel like absolute heaven. After months of fantasizing about you, Wonwoo finally has you quivering on his cock. He wants more than just a taste now. He’s completely addicted to you, and he wants to be the only man to have you.

“Fuck, baby. You’re dripping all over me, making a mess on daddy’s cock. Gonna lick it up for me after?”

You moan obscenely at his filthy words. Wonwoo drives his aching cock into you deeper. Lascivious noises fill the room—skin slapping, indecent groans, and of course, the loud squelching coming from your pussy. This is better than any fantasy Wonwoo ever dreamt up. To have you sprawled out on the bed he shares with his wife as he fucks you like he’s always dreamt of doing.

It’s like Wonwoo has tunnel vision. All he can focus on is your mewls and moans as his fat cock disappears into you. Your cream surrounds the base of his dick and makes a carnal haze cloud Wonwoo’s mind. He hooks your left leg on his arm, opening you wider for him. “Juicy cunt taking my cock like the good little bunny you are.”

You’re completely wreaked below him. The sight of your pretty little pussy taking him raw is driving him insane. You’re so gorgeous, and Wonwoo can’t get over it. He feels himself throbbing inside your cunt with every pump of his hips. The risk of being caught by his dumb wife makes him animalistic.

“Fucking love your big cock!” You moan, mouth falling open in pleasure.

Wonwoo moans at your words before he dips down to meet your open lips. His tongue licks into your mouth, tasting you all over again. When you part, his eyes are ravenous but also extremely enamored like he isn’t ravishing you in the bed he shares with his wife.

“Ah!” You cry out when his leaking tip hits your sweet spot. “Feel so full, daddy!”

The smirk he gives you is tantalizing. “You like being stuffed full of daddy’s cock, don’t you, baby? Love it when he splits you open and stretches you out, hm?”

“Love it so much.” You whimper with a nod, cunt tightening on his veiny cock. The drag of his dick feels so good that you can barely think straight.

Wonwoo grunts, fucking his cock into your hungry cunt, filling you so deeply that you can’t breathe. He pounds into your dripping hole relentlessly until your moans turn into nonsensical babbling. His throbbing tip is going so far inside you and ramming against your sweet spot that you feel yourself going dumb on his cock. Drawn out moans fill the room, unintelligible syllables spilling from you between his harsh thrusts.

You can’t even function anymore. Wonwoo took that ability from you the moment his thick cock penetrated your pussy. Your boss’s hand slips down your thighs until they get to where you two are connected. His thumbs part your glistening folds, spreading your lips so he can watch the way his cock is buried inside your tight pussy.

“Don’t stop!” You moan, bucking your hips to meet his powerful thrusts.

Wonwoo starts to rub gentle circles on your puffy nub, turning any remaining thoughts into static. His other hand slips up to your body and covers your mouth. Your whines and mewls are muffled, forcing you to listen to the lewd squelching coming from your cunt taking cock.

“You hear that, sweetheart?” Wonwoo growls, hips snapping. “Fucking soaking my cock like the dirty little bunny you are.”

The cries you’re letting out are quickly stifled when Wonwoo shoves his fingers into your mouth. He moans your name when you happily suck on them, swirling your soft tongue around them as if his digits are your favorite treat. He gently fucks your mouth a bit before yanking them out and smearing the saliva coated fingers on your hardened nipples.

“Daddy!” You moan loudly, body arching into Wonwoo as a familiar euphoric feeling washes over you.

Your orgasm hits so suddenly that Wonwoo is surprised. He doesn’t stop, though. He fucks you through it, juices being forced out of you as his cock splits you open. The tightness of your twitching walls beckon him to fill you up with his cum, but he holds back.

Instead he focuses on marking up your pretty tits. He sucking on your nipples, licking and nipping at them until they’re covered with his love bites. It helps you ride out your high, and all you can do is mewl softly as you run your fingers through his soft hair.

“I want your cum, daddy.” You weakly thrust up, moaning in protest when his cock slips out of your cunt and slides between your folds. “Come inside me. Want it so bad.”

His length is shiny with your release. It’s so hard that it looks almost painful. Wonwoo grits his teeth, lashes fluttering when your hand guides him into your cunt again. The stretch burns deliciously. You’re still not fully used to his size even though he just fucked you like an animal in heat. But you don’t care. All you want is to feel him come inside you.

Wonwoo pulls out of your pussy all the way only to deeply thrust his cock back in to the hold. He repeats this until you’re crying out for him like before. Finally, you clamp your legs around his sides, locking him balls deep. He can’t help but laugh at your determination. Especially when you start to rut against him desperately. God you’re so fucking cute he can’t help but want to ruin you.

“Please, daddy. Fill me up and stuff me full of your cum!”

“Such a desperate little bunny.” Wonwoo coos as he forces your thighs apart, pummeling his dick deeper inside you. “Trying to milk daddy’s cock. You want me to fuck you full of my cum until your pretty little pussy can’t hold any more of it, huh?”

“God—yes. Fuck. Fill me, fill me.” You whine brokenly. “Give me your cum and make me yours!”

You’re close again. Heat washes over your skin as you try to work yourself down on his cock. Wonwoo smirks down at you, pounding into your tight cunt like a starving beast. Another deep roll of his hips has you crying out for him again. Your pussy swallows his cock avidly, drenching him in your cream. Every pound of his thickness sends your juices down to your ass and adds to the soiled mess under you.

Wonwoo’s eyes dart between your fucked out face and your battered cunt. Your arousal coats your thighs and the base of his cock. He can even feel your essence seeping down his balls. Your wet lips are swollen at this point, your aching clit rubbed raw by his fingers. Still, he doesn’t stop.

“Gonna pump you full of my cum, sweet girl. Gonna stuff you full until I’m all you can feel.”

It’s unholy how you're so willingly being split open by his big cock. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, dizziness taking over.

“Fuck.” Wonwoo moans when he looks down to when your tight cunt is gripping his cock. “Cream all over me, bunny. Show daddy how much you love his cock.”

You’re thrown over the edge, cunt gripping his cock even tighter as he relentlessly hammers into you. Wonwoo feels your nails dig into his back, scratching down his spine, no doubt leaving red marks on his skin. Not that he cares. Wonwoo wants you all over him. Craves for you to mark what’s already yours.

Wonwoo grips your hips and lifts you, sheathing his throbbing cock into your cunt right to the hilt. He ruts into your leaking core like an untamed beast, and you let him because you want his cum to fill you up until you can’t think anymore. His gaze is locked on your pretty pussy as you moan out for him to fuck you harder.

Your cute moans have his eyes flickering up to your face, cock twitching wildly when he sees your fucked out expression. “Fuck, Y/N!”

It’s the prettiest sight to see Wonwoo’s euphoric expression as he spills his cum into your awaiting pussy. He’s so deep inside you, claiming you until his seed is gushing out of you and down to your ass. He keeps fucking his warmth into you, spilling more ropes of his cum with every thrust.

Wonwoo relishes in the pretty little whimpers you let out as he fucks his cum back into your hot cunt.

He slowly pulls out of you with a hiss, brows furrowing in dissatisfaction when he sees his cum leaking out of you. You’re not sure how long he stares at your messy cunt, but you’re taken by surprise when he suddenly smashes his face into your sloppy pussy.

You both moan loudly when he starts lapping up your mixed releases. He’s so eager with his movements, obsessed with the taste of you and him mixed together. Wonwoo licks you clean, smirking at you when he leaves you a mewling mess after he’s done. The sight of his chin glistening with your mixed releases turns you on all over again.

It’s how you find yourself being impaled on Wonwoo’s big cock once again. Your moans are filthy and louder than ever. Every tip he slams his hips against your it feels like he’s punching the air out of your lungs. You feel like you can’t breathe let alone think with how deep his cock is fucking into you. The brush of his leaking tip against your sweet spot reduces you to a babbling, moaning mess.

“D-Daddy.” You stutter out with a soft whine. “Don’t stop!”

Wonwoo leans down to press scattered kisses across your jaw before he smashes his lips on yours in a sloppy kiss that swallows all of your moans. You mewl into his mouth as your arms come up to wrap around his neck, back arching with your tits pressed against his chest, nipples grazing his own.

“Pretty pussy’s so fucking tight.” Wonwoo growls, hips snapping at a savage-like pace. “I can barely move.”

It’s true. Despite him drilling his aching cock into the wet heat of your slick pussy, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to move with how much you’re tightening around him. The way your velvety walls hug his cock lights up every single nerve of his body. Wonwoo loves the feeling of the heated friction of his veins dragging along your hot cunt.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck with a loud moan. Wonwoo starts to suck and nip at your sensitive flesh until he sees that he’s successfully left behind dark bruises on your skin. He gently kisses the marks he’s left behind—a great contrast to the way he’s roughly fucking you.

“Feel that, sweetheart?” Wonwoo pants, his snapping hips moving faster than before. “Daddy’s gonna mold your pretty pussy so no one else fits.”

You cry out when his thumbs finds your puffy clit. He runs fast circles on the sensitive nub, loving how your tight cunt spasms around his twitching cock.

“So good!” Your voice slowly starts to break off into wanton moans as your legs wrap around him.

Wonwoo’s weeping tip brushes against that spot inside you that has you arching your back and screaming out in pleasure. His cock twitches when he feels your hot cunt continuously tighten around him. With a guttural groan, he brings his thumb down to your clit to run fast circles on it. It’s almost amazing how fast your cream starts to coat his dick at the stimulation.

“God, sweetheart.” His voice seems to get deeper as he keeps splitting you open. “Pretty pussy was fucking made for me. It’s mine—all mine.”

“Daddy!” You moan in ecstasy. “Feels so good.”

His thumb keeps stroking your clit until you’re shrieking his name like it’s the only thing you know how to say. You choke on a euphoric cry as you come around his cock. Wonwoo lets out a guttural groan bad your wet walls start to spasm around him. His hips slam against yours desperately as he chases his own high.

The tight clench of your cunt forces him into an orgasm of his own. Spurts of his hot cum paint every inch of your walls, filling you up with every twitch of his cock. Thick ropes of cum drip down the sides of your thighs as he fucks his load into you, groaning your name through a strained, cracked voice.

Wonwoo’s hips sloppily rutting into yours as he fucks his cock into your messy cunt. Sticky strings are connecting his girthy base to the lips of your cunt. You're writhing from overstimulation, thighs shaking and tears slipping from the corner of your eyes.

“D-Daddy!” You moan, so far gone on his cock that it’s all you can think about. “Fuh-Fuck. T-Too—ah! Too d-deep!”

You feel so fucking good you can barely speak, toes curling with the ever sharp thrust of his cock. His hard pelvis grinds against your puffy bud as he lifts your legs so they’re resting on his shoulders. The new angle makes his throbbing dick go deeper inside you, and all you can do is pathetically grind up to chase the pleasure that’s consuming your mind and body.

Wonwoo growls lowly when he feels your pussy twitching around him. The fact that you look so fucking pretty beneath him, babbling and choking on your nonsensical words. Wet tears are clinging to your lashes as every thought that’s not about him or his cock being fucked out of you so easily.

“Fuh–uck!“

You sound so fucked out that Wonwoo has to thrust deeply into you to get you to let out more of those cute moans. His rough pace has your pussy clamping down on him as he angles your hips higher to sink impossibly deeper into your hot cunt.

Wonwoo’s smirk is so attractive that your pussy leaves behind another layer of cream on his hard cock. He licks his lips, playfully slapping your aching clit. “Slutty little bunny. Did daddy already fuck you stupid?”

He’s teasing you because he knows you’ve got more for him. Wonwoo won’t stop ravishing your little cunt until you’re nothing more than dumb, pliant and feeling so fucking good after he’s done using you. Your mind is completely hazed with pleasure that you barely register the filth he’s speaking when hes he's fucking you into the mattress like a wild animal, grunting through his teeth with every needy twitch of his heavy cock.

You’re just as desperate for your release as Wonwoo is to dig it out of you. Somehow, he’s already managed to memorize every single spot that has you creaming around him. Which you do. Like a cute, dumb bunny in heat, you leave a mess around the base of his cock. He moans your name in fondness when your nails leave behind stinging marks along his biceps and shoulders, still begging for another orgasm.

“Cute. Fucking. Bunny.” He grunts between the rough snapping of his hips. Your soiled cunt is squeezing his cock tighter like you’re begging him to fill you up with his cum. “All fucking mine. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

In all your lust and pleasure, you still manage to nod. “Oh-Only yours, da-daddy!”

You have him so fucking close already with the tantalizing little look you’re giving him. Wonwoo leans down so he can admire how pretty you look with tears of pleasure dripping down your cheeks. You cry out when your boss splits you open further, almost folding you in half beneath him.

The sudden force of his hips make your body clap against his, and you feel dizzy from the overwhelming sensation as your eyes close in bliss.

“That’s right, baby. Only daddy can fuck you this good.” His deep voice wavers with the increasing tightness of your cunt.

Wonwoo is practically bouncing his hips into you as his heavy balls smack of your ass with every impact. He’s already fucked you stupid. You’re nothing but a mindless, pretty bunny underneath him as he grinds his cock against the pleading spots inside of you. It feels like your insides curl and ache with need as your orgasm races to burst along your limbs with the next too-deep touch of his cock.

“Daddy!”

All you can do is cry for him as you come, babbling out mindless mantras and hiccups of his name. Wonwoo moans along with you at the first milking compression of your tight cunt around him, giving him no choice but to spill into you with a low groan that only seems to prolong your blissful state.

The back and forth stutter of his hips is intoxicating, his pelvis pressing tight against your cunt. Wonwoo fucks his load into your eager pussy, not wanting to waste even a drop of his sticky cum. His thrusts slow until you start to whine at the oversensitivity.

You slowly open your eyes and give him a spent smile. Wonwoo returns it, crawling over you to kiss you. It’s sweeter and more gentle this time—just like he is. You gasp into his mouth when his fingers sink into your tender cunt, pushing his cum back into you. You squirm, toes curling at the feeling.

“Such a good little bunny.” Wonwoo praises as his fingers circles your clit before tracing up and slipping them into your mouth. “My pretty, little cockslut.”

“Mhm.” You moan around his fingers, knowing this is only the beginning of your deepest desires.

“I hear you’re in love.”

Wonwoo doesn’t look away from his glass because he knows Mingyu is giving him a knowing smirk. It’s not a surprise that his best friend already knows about you. After all, you’re good friends with the woman Mingyu is madly in love with.

“As usual, you’ve got me beat in that department.”

Mingyu’s smile doesn’t falter because even if he’s not talking about it, Wonwoo doesn’t deny the feelings he clearly has. “She takes good care of Hana. Don’t act like that’s not all you look for in a woman.”

It’s silly the way Wonwoo can’t fight the fond smile that stretches his face. Every time he thinks to how well you take care of his daughter, he falls for you a little more each time.

“And you?” Wonwoo questions his friend who’s more of a lovesick puppy than he is. “You’ve found the woman of your dreams, but you still haven’t proposed.”

“I’m waiting until she finishes school.” Mingyu has that goofy smile on his face he gets every time he thinks bout his girlfriend. “After she gets closer to achieving her dreams, I’m going to make her my wife.”

Wonwoo can see the stars in his friend’s eyes and lets out a find laugh. “You surprised me. I thought you’d marry her the second you broke things off with her mom.”

Mingyu only gives him an excited smile. “She’s worth waiting for. So hurry up and finalize your divorce. The girls have been dying to go on a double date.”

Wonwoo feels a giddy excitement consume him. For years he had only foreseen a bleak future with a woman who didn’t love him. But now that he knows he’s going to face the future with you by his side, he doesn’t plan on letting you go.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo @dokwiyomie

[chloe-skywalker]

Give Them A Chance - Robb Stark

Robb x fem!reader Baratheon/Lannister

Warnings: GOT

Word count: 1,362

Summary: Robb and Y/n don’t know that their fathers plan to betroth them. But Ned has a reason for not telling. Will his reason work?

Authors Note: Takes place in like the first episode of season 1 Game Of Thrones. Like right after the whole “You got fat” lines.

Masterlist

Game Of Thrones Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Y/n watched the exchange between her father and his friend Ned Stark Warden of the North. It was very odd but she thought it was nice that they were such good friends that they still joked around with each other. She didn’t see her father act so freely like this often. It was a rare welcome sight.

“So I take it this is your oldest.” King Robert sighed looking at the eldest of Ned’s children with a scrutinizing gaze before breaking out into a smile.

“Yes, this is Robb.” Ned introduced his oldest son to his friend.

Robert slapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder, smiling widely. “You're a handsome young lad.”

Robb tried to contain his blushing that he was sure he was doing. “Thank you, your Grace.”

“You should meet my oldest. Y/n!” Robert called over his oldest daughter, but not before sparing a knowing glance to Ned. As Y/n came to stand next to her father, smiling politely at the Stark family before her. “This is my oldest. A year younger than you I believe.”

“Princess.” Robb bowed, before looking at the princess. She had caught his eye when she first entered Winterfell on horse back alongside her uncle. He could not deny she was gorgeous, and he couldn’t believe how fast he had started to fall for her.

“Mi’ Lord.” Y/n curtised, biting her cheek. Thus Robb Stark was by far one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. And she had seen a lot of people growing up in KingsLanding. She wondered if his personality was as nice as his looks.

“Would you like a tour of  Winterfell?” Robb asked, offering a way for them to talk and get to know each other a bit. He also was one of the most qualified people to show her around.

“I would love one.” She smiled. Looping her arm through his and the two young adults that in some ways are still kids went off exploring.

While the two went off getting to know each other and everyone else did God knows what, King Robert and Net Stark headed down to the crypts.

“Have you told your son?” Robert asked once they were done talking about Ned’s sister. The King was curious if his friend's son had offered to show his daughter around on his own or out of duty.

“Not yet.” Nod squinted, he didn’t like the idea of taking this choice from his son. But the other part, this was a good alliance, and you don’t deny a king.

“And why not?” Robert had told Ned of the idea to marry their oldest months ago. But to be fair he didn’t tell his daughter either.

“Because I wanted to give them a chance to fall in love before knowing they might be betrothed.” Ned explained his reasonsings, and even though Robert would never admit it he admired Ned’s heart and how he was trying to make this a better situation for their children. It was better than just throwing them together.

“Very well. I didn’t tell my daughter either. She would’ve fought me on coming.” He chuckled. Y/n would’ve tried to fight him or talk him out of it, and it might’ve worked even the slightest. Out of all his children she was the only one that had a somewhat relationship with him.

“They’d be more reluctant if they knew about what we had planned. The two of them being in the dark might lead to them actually gaining feelings for the other.” Ned just hoped that the two would get close and at least see they could make a marriage work. But he was truly hoping that maybe they could fall in love on their own and there wouldn’t be any hard feelings or reluctantness.

^     ^     ^

It had been a few weeks and things seemed to be working out for Y/n and Robb like Ned had hopped. Y/n seemed to fit right into the Stark family. She got along with all his children and they all act as if she’s one of them. Things between Robb and Y/n had taken some people by surprise. The two had been spending almost all their time together. They only separated to sleep it seemed like.

Ned was happy to see they had a lot in common. The two went horseback riding constantly and Y/n seemed to know how to use a bow and a sword no doubt thanks to her uncle. They didn’t even eat apart at meals.

Today Robb and Y/n had gone out riding, once they were far enough away from Winterfell the two dismounted their respective horses walking along next to each other.

“Are you having a good time in Winterfell Princess Y/n?” Robb asked, hoping that the time they’d spent together had been as enjoyable for her as it was for him.

Y/n smiled, nudging him teasingly shoulder to shoulder. “Yes, I am as matter of fact. My favorite part is the company.”

Robb blushed looking down before looking back to her. Robb had no idea why she could so easily make him react like that, but she could and he didn’t mind it. “You flatter me y/n.”

“You’ve been flattering me the whole time I’ve been here. It’s only fair.” Y/n smiled. As they came to the set of trees that they had made their spot over the time she had been in the North.

Robb just stood there watching her for a moment. He never expected to fall in love with her when he first found out the King, Queen, and their children were coming to visit. But he had and he didn’t regret it. “If I may be bold and speak my mind, Princess?”

Y/n nodded, smiling back at him as she turned to face him. She noticed how he wasn’t right next to her and Y/n wondered what had made him stop and if it had to do with what was on his mind. “Go ahead. I won’t stop you.”

“During your time here in Winterfell I have become quite taken with you.” Robb stated walking over to her. He looked in her eye’s trying to notice how his works were being taken.

“And I you.” Y/n blushed, biting her lip at her response back to him admitting his feelings for her. Which she reciprocates.

“I have a proposal for you Princess Y/n Baratheon.” Robb felt an air of convenience hit him at Y/n admitting she feels the same.

Y/n furrowed her brow, it confused her on why he was using her title and first and last name. “Go on Lord Stark.”

Robb took a deep breath, he knew what he wanted he just hoped she wanted it to. “We may not have known each other for very long or very well for the most part. But I would like for us to get to know each other better over time. If you’d like that of course.”

“I would.” Y/n nodded liking where he was going with this so far.

“Would you  also like it if we could become husband and wife, Lord and Lady.” Robb stepped right up to her, reaching out to intertwine their hands. Looking into her eye’s Robb reached up with one hand leaving the other one still in hers, he cupped the side of her face, “Would you do me the great honor and become my wife? For all my days till the end of my days?”

Y/n reached up with her free hand and cupped the back of his neck, while squeezing his hand holding hers. Looking up into his eyes with what could only be happiness and adoration Y/n answered. “I would love to.”

In her short time visiting the North Y/n had really connected with the Starks and of course Robb the most. Yes, she’d miss her siblings (minus Joffrey) and she'd miss her uncles but this felt like the better place for her. And as long as she has Robb, Y/n will always be happy.

Taglist; @gruffle1 @padawancat97 @misspendragonsworld

@starkleila

[newkatzkafe2023]

Ok so you don't have to do this if you don't want to and you can 100% ignore this but I gotta ask. How would the Wukongs be with a Reader S/O that is a female version of the lamb from The Cult Of The Lamb? Like such an adorable sweet little lamb girl that turns out to basically be a cult leader death god, who can and will beat demons and gods alike to death with that ever innocent smile on her face.

I LOVE THIS GAME🤩🫨🤯

(Lmk Wukong) Awwwwwww you are so cute and fluffy, he wasted no time fonding over you as you remind him of his nimbus cloud. You both hit it off as you both found each other an object of each other's interests, and you both had fun together. Then so one day when you decided to show him your big secret but then you both were suddenly attacked by another demon and Wukong was about to fight them off. The you suddenly joined in with your crown turned into a sword and switched to an Ax, which shook Wukong but not as much as how you easily. After that fight you bought Wukong to your cult as saw your alter as a lamb with blood coming out of its eyes. Wukong also finds that you being the death goddess is as awesome as it is scary😥

(MKR Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh man, he feels something odd about you, like you're hiding something, and he's gonna find out what it is. You were way too kind, too caring, too innocent looking, and the fact that you were patient with freaking pigsy of ALL PEOPLE. You were also ever so adorable on the outside, but their is something sinister on the inside, That when he found your cult, your well organized cult, and the crazy part is you were not only the leader, but the one they worship. The death goddess that is you!!!! when he found that you are a powerful woman who could slaughter monster with an innocent look on your face. He wonders if he can join you, and if your interested in marriage.

(HIB Wukong) He's also a bit suspicious of you but you showed nothing but kindness to both him and his children, you even go out your way to protect them and fight off monsters and other demons. Then one day he saw that the children were missing, and he was rightfully pissed knowing that you had something to do with it and was ready to tear you apart. Imagine his shock when he found you preying with Luier to an alter shaped Exactly like you and silly girl was sitting quietly Something She never did before. That's how Wukong found out about your cult to the death goddess AKA you.

(NR Wukong) Fluffy couples you both so cute together, He met and flirted with you when met you by a hardware store. You blushed a baa at him making him a purr at how cute you are, but it's not like he hasn't seen a cult before. Still imagine his surprise Pikachu face when he saw you running your cult with Corrupted teaching and magic that is not of his world at all. Wukong is not sure if he should be scared or majorly impressed with how you successfully run things, it's not often he meets a woman with authority.

(Netflix Wukong) OOOOOOOOOkkkkkkkk so he may have had been hit by cute aggression when you both first met, you were just soooooo cute and fluffy sitting on a log looking like a cloud that fell from the sky. He found himself sitting next to you shooting a few pick up lines, and Bragging about himself to you as you sat and smiled at him. You both always met in the same spot everyday sometimes with snacks as you listen to him talk but one day he was going to meet you like usual and got into an altercation with another demon Who was ridiculously strong for some reason. That's when you joined and absolutely destroyed that guy making his jaw drop that's when you finally bought him to your cult which freaked him out but he's also kinda jealous that they worship you as the death goddess.

(BMW Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh yeah love at first sight with him especially when he found out how deadly you actually are. You had such an innocent face looking up at him and he was smirking down thinking you were nervous around him, but oh that was not the case at all you were actually sizing him up to see if he was a good enough cult member. When he did find out you run a cult and you are actually a death goddess, their was no getting rid of him now he loves a deadly woman with authority and Deception🤤🤤🤤

(Destined one) Oh god two beings staring into each other's souls in silence, it creeps Bajie out to this day. Though the destined one immediately knew something is up with you as you had a dark aura around you despite your innocent smile and face. The Destined one found himself to be right as we demonstrated impeccable combat skills and abilities with an arsenal of weapons to beat monster and demons with. Then it definitely gets crazy when you let him to know that you run your own cult, not to mention your the death goddess which explains alot honestly. One thing's for sure the Destined one is happy to find a girl to creep peopleout with😊.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🐑🐐

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Montresor is the Bad Ending of White Raven

So Montresor has a religious trauma. And from what little we know of the flashback to his death, the man was apparently a corrupt preacher.

What that tells me about his life made me crack my knuckles, because holy shit, this guy is an even better villain than I expected. And not for the reasons I thought at first.

Montresor's possible backstory

A fun fact: "unholy men" used to be called "sons of Belial". Same as Monty's Spectre type, so there's the initial connection, but with what we saw in chapter 87, this phrase from his mother resonates quite a bit:

Montresor was most likely a bastard (literally), and if he was raised in a religious community, that immediately made him and his mother outcasts. Possibly his mother hated him for "ruining her life". Whether this is true or not, the implication is that he grew up a victim of a system that decided he was sucked by the devil from birth.

In this light, Montresor's attitude towards the world is actually a logical consequence: he has decided that abuse is the only way to relate, and you can either be the victim or the victimizer. Of course, he is now the victimizer.

But he decided that because life taught him two lessons that were important enough to make him the person he is now.

"I know this game better than anybody"

We know from the clothes and hat in his flashback, and the cross around his neck, that Montresor was a preacher. And I would venture to say an excellent one: he has heard all his life that he is a demon, he knows better than anyone what terror hell produces in people, so he knows exactly what to say (or not say) to manipulate others through that fear.

Montresor, like Annabel, is someone who exploits his own traumas.

Annabel has been almost conditioned to behave like the perfect high-society lady, and that includes going to impressive extremes if it means getting something in return. She has engineered her way through life by identifying the currency of the people around her and knowing exactly what to give them so that they will, in her words "kissing her rings".

Loyalty gained through fear vs. loyalty gained through pretended sympathy.

Same goal.

If the world has made them that way, both Annabel and Montresor will use every last footnote of knowledge gained through trauma to get what they want.

But then there's something else they have in common: this deep knowledge of the rules of the game has also made them both know that the odds are too stacked against them to ever win. In the past, we've seen Annabel throw in the towel on her arranged marriage, but Montresor took a different path, much more along the lines of…

"So I'm not afraid to cheat."

Montresor decided that if people wanted a demon. He would give them one. The worst demon of all, because this one knows the rules: he knows how to play the game, he knows how to cheat and get away with it. We don't know the extent of his atrocities, but given what happened in the flashback and the fact that his idea of a sleepover is stuffing someone behind a wall to slowly suffocate, this guy must have a long rap sheet.

So long, in fact, that he was tied to the tracks of a train to be torn to shreds without even a trial.

Because if the rules are just there to screw you, then screw them: the only option left is to cheat.

Which is exactly what Lenore did when she burned down her house and pretended to be a man to go after Annabel. Lenore jeopardized everything Annabel said was important to her.

And she got away with it. At least until they were both killed (or, if those of us with our chips on Annabel's childhood friend, they may have both died without anyone knowing).

Now, in Nevermore, Lenore is still doing that, as we can see in her reluctance to kill or destroy Montresor: she refuses to play the game, refuses to follow the rules.

She will look for ways to cheat here, as she did before (something Annabel actually expects her to do). The woman is too stubborn to bend, and so far she seems to have the wind at her back (the question is, for how long?).

The bad ending

These elements make Montresor a complete exhibition of the ultimate consequences of taking Annabel and Lenore's attitudes to the extreme: a person who instrumentalizes her own traumas to unravel and try to inflict them on others, and who is not afraid to cheat for her own benefit if it means getting what she wants.

The only thing that separates Annabel and Lenore from Montresor is that they both still use these attitudes in the name of other people: Annabel for Lenore herself, and Lenore for the people she cares about. That both of them (still) seem to have their hearts in the right place.

But if Annabel continues to use her vast knowledge of this twisted game to work her way through people without caring, and Lenore still believes she's above all rules, here's Montresor to show them (and us) what's waiting for them at the end of the road.

[harmfulb1tch]

Fallen Rose Petals (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Coryo persuades your father to let him marry you.

Warnings: a bit dark! Coryo, fluff

A/N: The part 2 nobody requested but here it is! (Sorry, it’s kinda short) please request in my inbox!

Coriolanus Snow was a man that protected his possession. He never liked when others played with his toys. And he certainly didn’t like when other’s claimed his possessions as theirs.

Coriolanus was now a man of higher power. He had just been named Gamemaker for the Hunger Games and a lot of contacts he could use for his personal gaining.

He put on the best dress shirt he could find laying around his house. He didn’t have to wear that scrap piece of fabric he wore during his graduation, the one his father used to call a shirt. He also decided on a red vest and his signature red coat. Last but not least, he held the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he has ever seen. It was put together by his grandma’am, made with the roses she planted in her garden.

That’s how the love of your life presented himself in front of your parent’s mansion. He knocked on the door and your father greeted him with a confused but genuine smile.

“Mr. Snow, what an unexpected surprise” he said, as nice as always towards the young man.

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Y/L/N. Is Y/N around?” Coriolanus used your first name because he was completely disgusted with the idea of calling you Mrs. Creed.

“In fact yes, my daughter is in the living room with her mother. Please, come inside.” Your father led Coriolanus to the living room where you were sitting watching TV. At the sight of Coriolanus, you jumped from your seat on the sofa and straight into his arms, giving him a bone crushing hug.

“Coriolanus! What are you doing here?” You said with the most beautiful smile on your face. Coriolanus could never get tired of it. It illuminated his life.

“These are for you, my darling” he presented you with the bouquet of roses. You sniffed them deeply, taking in the scent of them. The same scent that always reminded you of the man in front of you. The man you loved so dearly. You thanked him for the roses.

After having some tea with you and his family, Coriolanus dragged your father to the side’

“Mr. Y/L/N, may I please talk to you in private?” He said calmly.

“Of course Mr. Snow. What for?” He was quite confused by the interaction, but he didn’t question the powerful man in front of him further. Your father then led Corio towards his study, where he closed the door behind them.

“What is it you wanted to discuss so urgently Mr. Snow? Is this about the reason for your unexpected visit?”

“It is about why I came here. You know I’m a man of ambition Mr. Y/L/N. I’m here to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage” the look on Coriolanus’ eyes was filled with determination. He was not going to take a no for an answer.

“I’m sorry Mr.Snow. I’m afraid that is not going to be possible. She is already married to Mr.Creed.” Your father said calmly.

“Oh I know. But there is so much I can offer your daughter. Things Mr.Creed can’t” Coriolanus boiled inside, but his composure remained.

“Again, I’m sorry but-“ you father was cut off when Coryo punched your father’s desk with enough force to startle him. Coryo then grabbed your father by the collar, cornering him on the wall. You father swallowed hard.

“Look, Mr. Y/L/N. You have two options: either you let me marry your daughter or I end your family’s reputation. It’s your choice really. The outcome would be the same really. When your reputation is ruined, Mr. Creed will divorce your daughter, dispose of her as if she was trash. Like I said, it’s your choice” he said, threat laced on his voice.

“Y-yes Mr. Snow. Of c-course” your father was scared to death by the actions of the young man. Coriolanus had become powerful, fighting for his place in the Capitol. And now he was also running for president, with the odds to his favor. Your father also knew how much you liked Coriolanus, so he had no other choice.

The two men shook hands and left the office. You and your mother were sitting on the living room of the mansion sipping on tea and eating biscuits while chatting lightly when the two men came in. You motioned for Coryo to take a seat to your side on the sofa.

“We have an announcement. Y/N, you will be divorcing Festus and marry Mr. Snow. There is no discussion.” You father said, with a forced smile on his face. You softly nodded, hiding your excitement. Finally you would be happy.

You hugged Coryo, your Coryo. You felt safe and at home in his arms. You took his hand and the two of you went to have coffee. Of course, you chose the your favorite coffee shop. The same coffee shop he had first seen you with Festus, after his return. You both sat on the table on the outside terrace, he took your hand and kissed your knuckles sweetly, admiring you as if you were the most beautiful rose in his garden. You just hoped your dad had called Festus, breaking the news about the divorce for you.

[takenbypeter]

Hey! Jumped on the Wonka train since yesterday and had two thumbs up! Can I request a Wonka x single mom reader where during the course of the movie they’ve built up a bit of a flirtation/relationship and he bonds with her kid (s) bc of course they love the magician with chocolate who makes their mama smile. Specifically I’m looking for like a scene towards the end of the movie or post-canon where he expresses interest in adopting her kid (or kids) and of course marriage so they can all be one real happy family together. Sorry if that description’s a lot

Beginnings of a New Dream

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1780

Ahhh this one is so bad 🙈 I tried with this one but honestly I hate it, Idk I think it's cause I can't relate to parent fics so I just suck at them but still I wanna thank you for requesting

“Where is he?” You said to yourself, as you turned around in search of the young child. You’ve left him alone only for one second and now, poof, he’s nowhere in sight. 

Your eyes scanned your surroundings quickly until it spotted a familiar tiny figure standing upright among the white snow and you wasted no time to catch up. 

“There you are,” you breathed out, worried tone evident in your voice, “I told you to stay put,” you reminded, before noticing the stranger who was with him. 

The unknown man was wearing a tattered overcoat, along with a worn out top hat. His outfit was very…unusual, to say the least. And he was quite handsome.

But what concerned you the most, was his outstretched hand which held a small piece of wrapped candy. 

You glanced at your son who was already chewing on what you could assume was a different piece, then back at the stranger who instantly understands how bad this looks. 

“I’m sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Willy Wonka and I’m a chocolatier hoping to open my own shop very soon.”

“Mommy he can do magic!” Shouted your son.

“Oh he can now, can he?”

Willy Wonka. You’ve heard that name around town a few times, but this is the first you’ve seen of the man. 

He held out a hand to which you firmly shook, “well Willy Wonka, surely you, being a stranger and all, understand why I find it odd you’re giving candy to my son, knowing how dangerous it is for children to talk to, no less take candy from a stranger.”

“Ahem,” he let out an awkward cough as he retracted his hand. “I do apologize. It wasn’t my intention to cause fret. The little guy looked lost so my only intent was to keep him safe and occupied, honest.”

You squinted slightly unsure of the man. He stood arms up and opened in an innocent manner. His eyes were big with his thick eyebrows angled upwards at the middle before curving down. He did seem to be of no harm, and he did keep your son safe. 

You let out a relaxed sigh, “it’s alright, it’s my fault anyway, I should’ve kept an eye on my son. Thank you for keeping him safe.”

Wonka’s shoulders dropped and his facial muscles relaxed at your pardon. 

You reached down holding your child close, “we’ll leave you be. Thanks again.” 

“Wait,” his voice rang out, catching you before you departed. “Would you like to try a piece?” He held out the same small piece of chocolate from earlier in his palm upwards towards you. 

You’re just about ready to decline the offer but again he speaks out, “it would really be helpful to have a mature opinion on this chocolate.”

You nodded caving in because honestly, who were you to deny free chocolate, your mind thought showing you to be just as gullible as a child. Taking the sweet treat, you pop it past your lips.

 Immediately a rich flavor overtakes your mouth and as you bite into it, a milky chocolate filling spreads around. 

It was quite good. 

“Mmm,” you nodded towards the man, “oh you are going to go far with this chocolate Mr.Wonka.”

“Thank you. Your words mean much to me,” he said genuinely, and you let out a chuckle, “you’re welcome Mr.Wonka,” you say, as you turn around, hand in hand with your son.

Willy watches you fade from view with a prominent smile on his lips, because although he knew his business would do well, with the justification of your words he felt he was on the right path. 

And honestly he hoped to meet you on this path again. 

Days passed until you met the self proclaimed chocolatier again. 

You had been traveling, hand clasped with your sons, when you spotted Mr.Wonka’s pop up store in the center of town. Initially wanting to pass the store along with the small crowd surrounding it, your plans are thwarted when your son pulls you towards it.

“It’s Mr.Wonka!” Shouted your son as he pointed towards the herd, “alright, alright we’ll just stop by.” He runs, his little feet taking him as fast as he can while dragging your body along.

“Mr.Wonka! Mr.Wonka!” Shouts your son as he rushes to the front with you following close behind. 

Willy’s eyes widened in recognition, “well hey there, little guy, back so soon?” He asks, prompting your son.

You watch, looking on as the chocolatier chats with your child. They go back and forth creating small talk, before Wonka pulls out one tiny piece of chocolate, He waves his hands around and the crowd watches as he turns one piece into two right in front of their eyes. 

“Woah, do it again!” Clapped your boy in amazement, and truthfully you felt the same way. 

He performs the trick once more and again your son laughs as Wonka gives him one of the pieces before turning to you and handing you the other piece. 

“You are surprisingly well with children.”

He shrugs, at the comment, “it helps when you have such a sweet child…who has such a pleasant mother.”

He tips his hat while all you can do is chuckle trying not to look too moved by the man’s remark. 

“Thank you Mr.Wonka.”

“Please, call me Willy,” he adds and you nod while he returns his attention to other customers.

That Willy Wonka, what a charmer he was.

The week goes by before you run into the young man again, however, this time you were alone. 

“Willy!” You announced, trying not to sound too excited when you saw the chocolatier, who was walking along the street with a young lady. (You soon learned her name to be Noodle.)

You exchange greetings while Noodle makes her exit leaving you be. 

“What are you doing all alone? Where is the little one?” He asks, glancing around. “Oh I had to run some errands today so I had a friend watch him for me.”

Willy shares a soft smile, “he really is a brilliant kid, with a brilliant mother of course.”

“You flatter me Mr.Wonka.”

“Willy,” he reminds.

“Willy,” you repeat, sharing a look together before he blinks readjusting his focus. 

“Oh!” His eyes enlarge as he reaches behind him into his battered briefcase, “I had something made for the little guy, and for, ahem, the mister back home,” he holds out a small jar of candies to which you take grateful. 

“Please, there’s nothing of the sort, just me and the kiddo.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. It’s been that way for a while, it’s sort of the only way we know.” 

Willy shares a look with you, one unlike the look of pity most give when they hear your story, it was more of admiration? Respect? Either way, you thank him for thinking of you and as you do so, you hear a siren noise nearing before the chief of police arrives. 

He steps out of his vehicle and Willy turns to you, “I think you should go. Now. I’ll talk to you soon,” he says and you nod in understanding leaving the scene as the chief of police nears. 

That’s how your time gets spent whenever you spot the man; your son talks with him, you talk with him, Willy performs a magic trick. You try to buy some candy, Willy refuses and instead gives it to you for free and then you’re on your way. 

“Willy! Willy! Look, my tooth is missing!” Your son yelled running up to Willy. 

“Oh wow, that is outstanding! But you know what I heard?” Willy lowers himself to your son’s level, hushing his voice. 

“I heard this year, the tooth fairy started leaving candy underneath the pillows, for all the good boys and girls.”

“Really?!”

Willy looks up in your direction shooting you a quick wink. 

“Really.”

Your son turns to you with a smile from ear to ear present on his face as you nod confirming his curiosities. 

Mirroring his grin you watch on as Willy and your son continue in conversation. You’ve grown to the sight of them both, chatting and laughing. It was a very lovable sight. 

 That’s how it went, your meetings together.

And with each meeting you found yourself drawing closer and closer to the man, staying longer and longer on your visits.

The last time you saw Willy was at his opening for the factory, when everything went south. People rioted and burned his shop down and in the craziness you grabbed your son and ran putting his safety first. 

After that you didn’t hear from Willy. 

That is until today. You weren’t there when all the mess went down. When Willy and his team practically outsmarted the Chocolate Cartel, having them arrested. 

But you made sure to be there for Willy Wonka’s new opening of his shop. 

You stood in the crowd, your hand clutching your sons as the people gathered around trying the various sweets and treats. 

Walking around taking in all the beautiful colors and lights you stop at a wall full of jellybeans and gumdrops. And giving your son permission to collect some, you stand a short distance keeping an eye on him. 

“You made it,” said a voice as a figure emerged beside you. You smiled at Willy who was positioned just as you were towards the colorful wall. 

“Of course I did. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

You watch for a moment as your son collects snacks, putting them into a bag that was provided. You were so occupied with him that you hadn't realized Willy was holding out one of his own creations for you.

“A chocolate flower for the lady.”

“It doesn’t have any yeti sweat does it?” You asked, eyebrow raised. You were lucky enough that you hadn’t managed to eat any of the poisoned chocolate last time.

“No, no yeti sweat.”

Beaming you take it and happily munch on it. 

“So this place…is it everything you’ve dreamed of.”

He glances around taking it all in. The smiles on peoples faces, the way they’re in full enjoyment, but then his gaze returns to yours, “yes it is. But it’s strange.”

You tilt your head silently, allowing him to continue his thought as he turns his attention back to your son then you again. “I think…I think I have a new dream now.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your new dream?”

Willy’s eyes lock onto yours. 

There are no words shared between you two but somehow you seem to understand what he means.

[motherofdogs1010]

A Jedi in Arrakis V (Paul Atreides x Reader)

While on the run from Empire troops, Jedi padawan Y/N comes to find out that hyper-driving in a compromised craft can have some major setbacks when she discovers not only is on a new planet but a whole new galaxy as well...

Warnings: jedi!reader, angst, mentions of death, somewhat-canon Dune PT. 1 & 2, Paul is somewhat canon, talks of questioning the Force and teachings, spoilers for Dune Part I and II, eventual marriage

A/N: If anyone knows of where I can words in Chakobsa (Fremen language) to use in the story, that would be helpful! I also used a quote from Queen Charlotte!

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Banner @vase-of-lilies Dividers @firefly-graphics

The harsh winds of Arrakis rocked the tent that they had taken shelter in, BB had gone into hibernation and Y/N felt lucky that BB had a solar option that left him basically fully functional at all times. Lady Jessica had taken to being silent, but Y/N could feel the troubled thoughts rolling off of the woman as Paul stared off into nothing with Dr. Yueh's note.

The discarded bag that they had found laid in front of their feet

"Paul", she softly said, he looked at her as she grasped his hand. "We should look through the bag, see if there's anything useful in there."

"She's right", Lady Jessica finally said, "we need all the supplies we need."

Paul grabbed the bag after putting the note down and going through the contents, a thumper was found and she frowned at it because what was it for?

"No stillsuits", Paul said, "the one thing we actually need."

"Stillsuits?" she asked.

"The Fremen use it to survive here on Arrakis, it cycles the water through sweat and other sources."

Y/N frowned as she saw a small bag on the ground and picked it up, "what is this?"

"Let me see", Paul said and she placed it gently in his palm.

He unraveled it and there, resting in the confines of it was a signet ring; Y/N was reminded of the rings she had seen Senators of planets wear that signified their planet and even rank.

She heard Lady Jessica let out a soft cry before hiding her face in her knees and Paul tightly grip the ring, and then she knew what the ring was: it was Duke Leto's ring.

Sorrow filled her heart as she grasped Paul's hand before she heard him suck in a deep breath, she reached over to his body and grasped him. A hand coming into Paul's curls as she tried to comfort her through gently rubbing his scalp as she saw BB wake up, let out a series of sad beeps before rolling over to Lady Jessica to comfort her.

Time passed with the winds howling even louder as she rubbed her eyes harshly, the sensation of her vision blurring feel odd as she felt her body feel sensations she never felt before. Perhaps it was the heat of Arrakis as she moved her sweaty hair from her neck as Paul commented, "Spice is stronger out here, your body may feel odd since it's never had the effects."

Rubbing her eyes a bit harder, she blinked as she heard, "Y/N..."

Who said that?

It must be the Spice tricking her mind as she sucked in a deep breath, but she could feel the Spice more in the lungs as she breathed and tried to meditate against the effects. Anxiety seemed to fill her body as she tried to swallow it down.

In conclusion, Spice was something she was not a fan off...

He was the only one awake, a hand resting on his love's head as he ran his fingers through her thick hair in an attempt to clear his mind. His mother was curled near the droid, seemingly finding comfort in the little robot as Paul thought back to what has happened.

His House was betrayed... his father dead...

He could feel his body feel different as he felt the sensation of another vision coming about. It must be the Spice honing in his vision as he felt his heart began to slow, the sweat on his body begin to cool...

"Paul..."

The dunes of Arrakis surrounded them as Y/N wore a long, muslin gown as she sat atop of a dune; her eyes blue and bright as her hair blew around her.

"Paul..." she softly whispered.

Her face serene as she reached a hand out to him before she looked down below her as Paul saw, and heard the cries of war. Suddenly, he could see it all: Fremen warrior bursting out from the sand and striking down the enemy before his vision focused on one particular Fremen warror, who brutally and effectively was striking down the enemy before pausing as they struck down another.

Their visor went up and he saw himself...

Y/N could feel something was wrong as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes to find Paul, once again, staring off into something with a look of horror on his face. BB had begun letting out a series of fearful beeps as he moved around, trying to alert one of them before closing in on himself.

Sitting up quickly, she reached her hands and grasped his face, "Paul, what's wrong?"

Tears began to fall down his cheeks as he blinked.

"Paul", she said, worried.

"Holy war spreading across the universe", he whispered, "like an unquenchable fire. That's future, it's coming."

Fear was all over his face, "Paul, it's okay. I'm here, you don't have to be afraid."

It was then she could hear Lady Jessica arise from her slumber, maybe she too could see what Paul was seeing?

"Paul, I see what you see", Lady Jessica said, "tell me, what do you fear?"

Y/N looked back over at Lady Jessica, who also had tears once again down her cheeks.

"It's coming, I see a holy war spreading", Paul said, beginning to tightly grasp her hands, "across the universe like unquenchable fire. A warrior religion that waves the Atreides banner in my father's name..."

"Paul", Lady Jessica repeated.

Y/N felt how tight Paul was holding on her hands before he dropped himself into her lap, burying his head into her stomach as he gripped her waist in terror.

"Fanatical legions worshipping at the shrine of my father's skull. A war in my name! Everyone's shouting my name!"

Y/N could hear the fear in Paul's voice as he sobbed into her stomach and she rested her hands over him, feeling the fear radiating off of him.

Lady Jessica moved to try and comfort Paul, but he immediately snapped his head up and with the Voice shouted, "Get away from me!"

Lady Jessica moved back as Paul shouted, "you did this to me! You Bene Gesserit made me a freak! I don't even know who I am!"

"Stop it, Paul!", Y/N hissed. "She's your mother."

Silence befell the tent.

"Listen to me, Paul, I will stand with you between the heavens and Arrakis, I will tell you who you are, what you see", she whispered to Paul as he stared at her.

He fell back into her lap, burying himself back into her frame.

The decision to leave the tent came eventually, finding them once again in the dunes of Arrakis when a orinithoper (a word Paul had told her was what the insect shaped aircraft was) flew over them before landing a few feet away.

"It's Duncan", Paul said, hope in his voice.

BB let out a series of beeps as he rolled beside them. Y/N could feel the weight of her lightsaber hanging around her hip as she saw Duncan Idaho running towards them, embracing Paul and Lady Jessica with a nod of acknowledgment towards her and BB.

"I'm so sorry, your father..." Duncan began before falling to his knees and grasping Paul's hand. "My lord Duke."

Soon enough, they were in the orinithoper and off they went. Time passed on in the craft, a blue-eyed woman named Dr. Kynes giving them a small vial each to drink as BB hibernated for the time being as Duncan informed them of how the Harkonnens hit all the populated regions on the planet with Sardaukar.

"Who are the Harkonnens?" she asked. "And Sardaukar?"

"The Harkonnens are who used to control Arrakis and the Spice trade", Paul softly said. "They are a ruthless House that has feuded with ours for eons. And the Sardaukar are the ones we saw before... they are the Emperor's warriors."

"You were betrayed by your Emperor?" she asked, baffled. "Was he not the one who gave you this planet? Why then?"

"That remains to be seen."

It was a hidden testing station that they were taken to with the last remaining Atreides warriors. A dust storm was on its way from what Dr. Kynes informed them as they walked within, she felt Paul grasp her hand as Dr. Kynes some Fremen men to grab them stillsuits to put on.

They had been taken to a circular shaped room where Paul asked Dr. Kynes of bearing witness to the betrayal that House Atreides has faced.

"Are you alright?" Y/N whispered to Lady Jessica, who nodded.

The woman looked pale and nauseous, "I have not told Paul yet that..."

"Oh", Y/N said with wide eyes.

Lady Jessica was with child.

BB let a series of happy beeps and spun in a circle, a small smile on Lady Jessica's face as she watched.

"Thank you, BB", she said as the droid gave her a thumbs up.

"You and Paul are close", Lady Jessica commented, "he will need you."

Before she responded back, the Fremen men were pack with three packs of stillsuits for them as Paul says, "suppose I went to the Emperor and made a play towards the Great Houses? I tell them what has happened and then what?"

"Chaos", Lady Jessica said, "across the Imperium."

Y/N moved towards Paul, BB right beside her.

"So, what do you propose I do?" Paul asked.

"The Emperor has no sons, only daughters", Dr. Kynes offered, "you could-"

Y/N felt her heart clench at the beginning of mention just as Paul firmly said, "no. I will find another alternative. Perhaps make a play to the throne."

Paul grasped her hand, winding their fingers together.

Dr. Kynes let out a dry laugh, "you're a lost boy hiding in a hole in the ground. The Emperor feared the Atreides, that is why we are here."

Dr. Kynes looked at her and raised a brow, "and what of you? Outsider from another world."

"Jedi do not believe in revenge", she answered, "it corrupts the soul, it leaves you open to the Sith."

"But you will watch him seek it out?"

A conflicting question, wasn't it? Watch a man she's come to care for seek revenge on the people who murdered his father, destroyed his House. Everything she was taught to be against...

"Yes." An answer that went against everything she was taught to believe.

Paul's hand squeezed hers in a comforting manner.

It was then that a odd silence filled the place and the sound of Duncan's footsteps against the sand was heard and she felt a hard wave in the Force that surrounded Arrakis.

"They've found us, haven't they?" she said outloud.

And once again, chaos erupted...

TAGLIST

@cloudlst @khlaeesihavilliard @colors-for-the-world-please @senhoritaapple @dark1paradise @chalametabingbong @aoi-targaryen @star-maker-rain-dancer @nj452896

[katyspersonal]

Perhaps Marika's situation is less about 'perpetuating the cycle' and more about reactionary paranoia?

I was thinking a bit more about the reveal what the Hornsent once did with Marika's folks and why (this ( x ) post by drenched-in-sunlight for context) some more!

Like, think about what kind of folks she has been oppressing in her reign past the point of simply taking revenge on the Hornsent! Misbegotten, for one, were also considered sacred due to odds of their contact with Crucible, so were the Crucible Knights fashioning themselves after it. With Fire Giants it was more plainly stated that there was a fear that they might burn the Erdtree once. And who knows if they would? Their fire had it's worshippers and was a godly thing too, and perhaps Fell God was called Fell for a reason? Albinaurics were creation by Nox, people who once angered the Greater Will itself, in their pursuit to have the 'Lord of the Night' and pretty much counter Marika's rule..

The thing I am seeing is not "becoming the very thing she sworn to destroy", but "if some folks believe their kind is blessed in any way this is an instant 🚩"! Because that's the shared link between the species she put under oppression - considering themselves and/or being considered divine. She didn't just take revenge or continued the cycle, she "learned" from her traumatic experience but she learned a bad thing, and now crippling some species believed to be "blessed" before they went "far" is her whole MO. She destroys them before they can even THINK of being purer and better than her! Because really, who is to tell they won't come after her and her family? After all.. the Hornsent did once believe they were divine, didn't they?

I know I compare her with Gwyn often, but whereas he was very cunning and smart in his fear, Marika was more outright oppressive. Marika is like if Gwyn personally obliterated Manus and all Pygmy but one and made humans live in constant humiliation and mistreatment 🤔 Because nothing and no one should be considered sacred besides those she personally blessed, or else it is 🚩🚩🚩. She didn't perpetuate the cycle but attempted to stop it, by solidifying herself and her vision as the one and only thing that can be "divine" or will EVER be divine. Better oppression by one power forever than the cycles of thriving and then being killed by multiple powers! It is the dilemma of being "preventive". You can't be nice about it, but how CAN you take any chances, after having seen what funny thoughts can lead to?

(On the brighter note this makes her/Radagon's alliance with Rennala much nicer because glintstone and moon sorceries were in the contrary with the Golden Order once but merged after marriage (according to Rogier's research, I trust that man lol). She didn't put Carians and other sorcerers under oppression at the end of the war. It means that love was the only thing stronger than paranoia, once ;-;)

[redroomreflections]

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter 5

Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Note: This is a repost from my since deactivated account Natsxaddiction. I will be adding the shorter stories to here; 20 chapters or less - sorry TLH fans =(

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Chapter 5/20 (A completed story)

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

W/c: 5.1k

The key to a good marriage is good communication. Not to go to bed angry with each other. Not to lie to one another. Don’t lie. That’s a big one and if anyone asked you would tell them that you don’t lie. Even then it’s only half the truth. You’ve been lying to people for as long as you can remember. You lied to Natasha for a long time. You’ve been lying to yourself even longer. You stand under the scalding hot water of the shower, trying to stand strong, as you think about all of the events of the past few weeks. Of all the reactions you expected from Natasha, her pulling out a knife was surprising. For years, she’s been your rock and you hers. Since Ultron physically hurting each other has always been off the list. Training sessions were a different platform and often your initial aggression towards each other was handled in the gym of the compound. Going from lovers to enemies to lovers again has been a whirlwind of emotions. Even though all your feelings for her haven’t changed, you can't help but have the tiniest bit of anger at her actions.  

There was a time when you remembered you were happy. Trips to the compound meant fun, joy, and love for your family. Other times it meant work but even then you were okay with visiting. Today, it means something different. You’re nervous about how Natasha will act in front of everyone else. You’re even more scared that Wanda will say something. You’ve already given her notice about Natasha’s attitude and you know she will be on edge about it. For Wanda is your protector, and you are hers. Ever since Pietro died it's a silent promise you made to each other. It’s comforting knowing that even if you’re at odds with your person you have another one in your corner. You can’t wait to hug her. Maybe you’ll get a moment alone to sit with her and tell her how you’re really feeling. Your mind keeps replaying the events of last night like a broken record. Seeing Natasha pull out that knife terrified you though you won’t admit it to her. She looked at you with anger you haven’t seen in years. As if she doesn’t know you. In her eyes, she doesn’t. You’re another stranger that’s lied to her and you understand that. You’re not expecting her to dismiss it. Her hurt is just as valid as it was all those years ago. 

You only wish you had a bit more time to tell her. Natasha’s never been a patient one. 

You step out of the shower, listening for the sound of the girls down in the living room before you walk to your closet. You’re not up to dressing in your usual dressy fits. Natasha used to tease you about how fancy you always looked. Every shirt or dress you touch holds memories. The black and white sweater dress. You’d worn that to a date night with dinner served on a rooftop. After the delicious dinner, Natasha took you home where you barely made it through the door before she was all over you. A silk blouse that you wore when you signed the deed for the house. All memories of the life you’ve been sharing with Natasha. 

You find your bearings, opting for a simple green oversized sweater, loose-fitting jeans, and white socks. You brush your hair into a messy ponytail before walking out of the closet in search of your shoes. A compound is a huge place and you’re going to have to keep both girls in check. You’re bent over your bed, a blanket tossed over the side, as you reach under the bed for your second sneaker. When you stand up notice it. Almost like a zoom lens, your eyes focus on Natasha’s wedding band sitting on its lonesome on her dresser. The responding EMTs gave it to you in a small Ziploc bag after the accident. You had been banged up and bruised but otherwise fine. You waited one long gruesome hour in your own hospital bed for them to tell you anything. No one had answers for you then and that only made things worse. Your mind went through every scenario where the doctor would come in and tell you she died. You remember the nausea that took over your body when you saw a representation of your love in such a careless piece of plastic. You walk over to the dresser, reaching above you to unclip your necklace, to add the ring to it. It slips on easily as you clip the necklace back around your neck. You inspect yourself in the mirror as you hold the ring between your fingers. It serves as a reminder to keep moving forward. 

“Mama, we are ready,” Olivia interrupts your thinking as she stands in the doorway of your bedroom. You give her a once over, noticing her shoes are on the wrong feet when you wave her over. You hold her around her waist, helping her over to the bed so you can kneel to help with her shoes. 

“I have to pack your backpack,” You inform her. “Is there anything you want to bring and show for Auntie Wanda?”

“I think my dolls,” Olivia nods. She raises her left foot for you to place it inside of her shoe. “Mommy, can I go to the doctor and get that thing on my arm like Mama?”

“What thing?” You ask absentmindedly. 

“On Mama’s arm,” Olivia gestures. “She said I can color on it.” 

“I don’t think those are for sale but I can buy you markers,” You offer, now understanding that she’s referring to the cast on Natasha’s arm. She seems satisfied with that answer. You finish strapping her shoes before patting her legs. “Go get your dolls.” You instruct and she toddles out of the room. 

You sigh, standing to your full height, before tucking your phone in your pocket. The next stop is the compound. You quickly pack the girls a bag filled with Lily’s diapers, a few snacks for them, spare clothes for both of them, and wipes. Lots of wipes. From past experiences, you know that's the number one thing you need. You reach the foyer where Natasha is waiting for the girls. Everyone has their shoes on, completely dressed, and jackets zipped. You go over to the key dish finding it empty. 

“I’m driving,” Natasha doesn’t leave much room for argument. 

“Natasha, that’s ridiculous,” You shake your head. “You have a broken wrist and ribs there’s no way you can drive. Top that with the medications you’re taking. It’s unsafe.”

“As opposed to driving with you?” Natasha argues. That’s a low blow. “We don’t all have a shield to keep us safe.” At your face, she continues. “I did notice it last night.”

You take a deep breath. “Nat, that is completely uncalled for and if you have questions I’m happy to answer them. I can cancel lunch and we can stay here. I won’t be doing this in front of the girls.” You gesture to Olivia whos watching both of you. “If you want I will order an uber and pay the insane fee for all four of us to drive or you will get in the car with me and just trust that I can get us there safely. Either way, I’m not going to let too many of those comments pass.” You speak firmly. 

There’s a moment of silence between you and you can see the wheels turning in Natasha’s head. She’s thinking about this and how far she wants to take it. You’re right. She doesn’t want to fight in front of the girls. She reaches into her pants pocket, tossing you the keys, and you catch them. 

“Thank you,” You nod. You pick up Lily and take Olivia’s hand as you all pile out of the door. You turn to lock the front door and show Natasha to the car. Olivia climbs into her own seat and waits patiently for you to strap her in. Next is Lily and you have a little more trouble as she mewls at the idea of being strapped in. Natasha watches you curiously. She wants to see how you’re going to calm her. You reach into the diaper bag, grabbing a sippy cup of frozen breast milk, and her eyes immediately light up. You’re on your last few frozen bags and soon you won’t have the small remedy. Lily takes the sippy cup with urgency, immediately bringing it to her mouth to drink. 

You round the car to get into the driver’s side, taking a deep breath, before buckling yourself in. Natasha climbs into the passenger side and does the same. “Look, Natasha, I understand you’re feeling conflicted and everything is confusing for you right now. I know I’m not your favorite person right now.” You look into the backseat where both girls are occupied. “I just don’t want to do any of this in front of the girls. That’s something we promised to each other.” You leave it at that. You start the car, making sure to check beside you before you drive off. 

The car ride is done in relative silence. Olivia asks a question ever so often, prompting either you or Natasha to answer, as you drive. Most of them Natasha can answer as they’re simple and general. Why is the sky blue? Why do people walk when there are cars? Why does that man lives on the street? Where does the subway sleep at night? Finally, she gets to one that stumps Natasha. 

“Mama, can we call Auntie Lena later?” Olivia asks. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.” 

Out of your peripheral, you can see Natasha tense. She’s trying to connect the dots and sure enough, she’s landing on Yelena. You can tell she hasn’t thought about Yelena during this time. Seeing Melina and Alexei was more than enough of a shock for her. It’s another piece of her life missing that she has to think about. Natasha’s mouth falls open like a fish out of water. She doesn’t have an answer. 

“Mama?” Olivia asks again. 

“I can call her for you later,” You answer for Natasha. Your eyes remain on the road the entire time. “I’m sure Auntie Yelena misses you. She’s in Rome right now on business.”

“Oh, she’s on business?” Olivia repeats as she looks out of the window. She’s pretty used to this sort of answer so she doesn’t ask for more than that. “Is she hungry?”

You smile at her curiosity. “I hope not. If anything we can send her some food.”

“Like spaghetti?” Olivia volunteers. 

“If that's what she wants we can order her spaghetti,” You laugh. Olivia quiets down after that. Besides Wanda, Yelena is Olivia’s favorite aunt to interact with. Laura is also high on that list. She’s come a long way from being the little girl that was afraid of pretty much everything and everyone. 

“Is her number inside my phone?” Natasha asks quietly. She folds her arms against her chest, a sign of nerves that you know well. 

“It is,” You answer. “I think she would enjoy hearing from you. She was pretty worried after the accident and everything but couldn’t come home in time.” You inform her. Natasha nods. “You two are pretty close. I’d think almost closer than Wanda and I.” You add. Natasha processes this in silence, turning so her body faces the door more, and that’s how you know the conversation has ended.

******************************** 

When you arrive at the compound you go through a series of security checkpoints. You offer your name, “Y/n y/l/n - Romanoff,” though no introduction is needed. You give them the names of everyone else in the car and with one look from Natasha, you’re allowed through. 

“This compound has been here for years and you’d think they would let me in on the first try,” You shake your head. You know the real reason behind the guards' hesitance. One that everyone else isn’t privy to except for Sam. He’s called on plenty of occasions for Tony to ask his staff to let him through. 

“Does that happen often?” Natasha asks and you nod. 

“Perks of the job,” You shrug. Being a superhero had its advantages but this was not one of them. You drive down the mile-long driveway to park in front of the compound doors just like always. You place the car in park, thanking the high heavens that you made it safely, while you relax in your seat.

“Mommy, potty!” Lily announces from her chair. In times like now, she’s good with announcing when she has to go but you’re not very expectant that she will. 

“Okay, I’ll hurry,” You call to her. “Nat, Olivia knows the way to the lounge, she will quite literally drag you to it,” You take the keys. You leave Natasha with Olivia while you rush Lily to the first bathroom you can. 

“Mama, are you ready?” Olivia asks from her seat. She’s so excited to see her Aunt Wanda and her uncles. 

“Yes, Myshka, I’m ready,” Natasha speaks quietly. She finds herself anxious but she’d never admit it out loud. Natasha finds that you were right about Olivia dragging her inside of the compound. She pulls her forward, almost into the plexiglass doors that slide open as if they were made in a grocery store. 

“It can see my face, Mama, and your face,” Olivia points to one of the security cameras on the wall to her left. Natasha tries to take in everything. From the high ceilings, the newly buffed floors, and the exorbitant displays of wealth that can only be Tony’s doing. “It’s cool right?” Olivia understands a little bit about Natasha’s ‘sickness’ by taking notes from you and your recent task of telling her everything. “We have to go through the doors. There are two. Then down a long, long, long hallway, and then we get to the ‘Venger’s lounge.” Olivia explains. 

Natasha is a little winded at the pace and distance they’re going and so she asks Olivia to slow down. 

“Oops, I’m sorry,” Olivia giggles. She walks slower, giving a leisurely pace, as she points to Natasha all of her favorite things inside the compound. Once they reach the lounge, Natasha is completely abandoned as Olivia spots her favorite cousin, Morgan playing with a set of blocks. “Morgan! Hi, Morgan.” Olivia greets her. They look to be around the same age though Morgan is a bit taller. 

Natasha is left to look around the place, finding the rest of the adults in the kitchen. She stands by the doorway, watching you come from another one with Lily on your hips. 

“Hello all,” You greet Pepper with a kiss on her cheek and Tony a slap on his back that almost makes him choke on whatever drink he’s drinking. Natasha snickers in the corner but she chooses to remain silent and watch. You give Sam a fist bump and Steve another kiss on his cheek. There’s a woman Natasha recognizes as Sharon Carter. Sharon takes Lily, tickling her, and causing her to laugh. 

There’s another woman that you greet that has Natasha’s blood running cold. You wrap your arms around Wanda, giving her several wet kisses on her cheek, and she proceeds to wipe them off. From the outside, it's an endearing exchange between sisters, but for Natasha, it only causes more confusion. 

“Mama, are we spying?” Olivia whispers almost startling Natasha. She looks up at her mother with pure mischief in her eyes. 

“We aren’t but I do have to say you’re a good spy, I barely noticed you,” Natasha chuckles. 

“There she is!” Tony cheers when he notices Natasha in the doorway. He rounds the counter to approach her, holding out his hand for her to shake, as he walks. “Hello, nice to meet you again, I’m Tony Stark. I don’t know if you remember me but I’m your very, very rich best friend.”

“I remember you, Tony,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Best friend is pushing it.” She looks him over. He looks older and a bit more mature. Maybe Pepper has finally tamed the wild beast that is Tony Stark. 

“Ouch, you wound me,” Tony holds his hand over his heart. “Though I do understand the best friend title was transferred to Y/n a long time ago.” Tony gestures to you. He bends down to greet Olivia. “What’s up, munchkin, did you steal any hearts today?” 

Oliva laughs at Tony’s ridiculousness. “No, Uncle, I don’t steal. Mama says it’s bad.” 

“That’s right it is,” Natasha brushes down some of Olivia’s hair. 

“Come join the rest of the team,” Tony invites them further into the kitchen. “Did you meet Morgan out there?”

“She’s your kid?” Natasha’s eyes widen. 

“The one and only,” Tony nods. “Pepper carried her right in the oven here. I’m trying to get her to give me one more. A boy.” Tony wraps his arm around Pepper’s shoulder and she blushes. 

“That’s not happening,” Pepper laughs. She pushes Tony’s arm from her shoulder. “Hello, Natasha.” 

“Hello, Pepper.” Natasha gives her a small smile. 

“We missed you around here, Red,” Sam says from his chair. The sentiment is shared by everyone else in the room. Olivia goes around the room to give everyone a hug before she lands on Wanda. Wanda bends down to pull Olivia in her arms, taking her over to the stove where she shows her what she is cooking. Natasha doesn’t know if it’s a conscience move on her part not to introduce herself but she does it for her. 

“You’re Wanda right?” Natasha addresses her and green eyes raise to look at her. 

“Yes, I am,” Wanda nods. “We met a long time ago. I am y/n’s sister.” She introduces. 

“I remember how we met,” Natasha nods. “It’s amazing how much the team has changed.” You narrow your eyes, seeing the shade for what it is, but you remain silent. 

“Everyone has a past but we all joined the team to make the world a better place and wipe our ledgers,” Wanda offers and you pinch her side to get her to stop. You didn't bring Natasha here for them to argue. Wanda barely flinches but she does give you an annoyed look. 

“Who’s car did you drive?” Steve questions. He comes to stand beside Natasha. He gives her a smile.

“A rental,” You wave the keys. “The insurance companies are still investigating and we are going through everything. Our car was totaled.”

“If you need I can have another one to you by the end of this week?” Tony shrugs. He has connections in every single part of this country and others. You don’t doubt he could have you three new cars by the time he hangs up the phone. 

“We can talk later about it if that’s okay,” You nod.  You would rather not discuss the accident at this moment. 

“Can I sign your cast?” Sam holds up a black sharpie. 

“No, Uncle Sam, me first.” Olivia frowns. 

“Have at it,” Natasha holds up her arm and grins when Olivia comes to write her name. She hasn’t completely mastered it yet but she does get the letter O and a squiggly line to accent it. That’s when the rest of the team volunteers and one by one Natasha’s cast is filled with words of wisdom and love. This is the first time in days you’ve seen Natasha so relaxed. Finally, it’s time for you and Wanda to sign. Wanda gives a polite decline but you’re the only person that can’t give a simple no. 

“I think I’m going to give my own message later,” You give a coy smile. If anything you’re still a bit uneasy with Natasha and you’re sure she is with you too. 

“Oh boy, you know what that means,” Tony grumbles. “Don’t tell me you’ll need a babysitter tonight.” He jokes. 

“It has been a long week,” Sam joins in on the teasing, and Natasha’s brow furrows. She’s not dumb she can understand what they’re implying. 

“That’s enough,” You quiet them down though your tone never changes. “Are we going to eat lunch anytime soon or are we here to talk about very private things?” You ask. “I don’t know man,” Sam laughs, and before he has time to react you tap your fingers across the counter sending a surge of magic directly to his hands. He jumps back, giving a small ouch, as he shakes them off. 

“Lunch is ready,” Wanda turns off the stove. Sharon lets Lily down onto her feet and she begins to race around the kitchen with Olivia running after her. 

“Girls, be careful,” You instruct and they run from the kitchen out to where Morgan is still playing. Plates are carried to the big dining table and when Natasha doesn’t sit next to you everyone does take notice. No one is bold enough to speak on it. 

You sit next to Wanda, engaging in small talk with her, as the rest of the team converses with Natasha. Mainly it’s the men giving her a rundown of Avenger’s operations. She’s interested in everything that’s been going on. Lunch goes by without a hitch and you dismiss yourself to go and feed the girls. Truthfully, you need a moment without Natasha there. 

“Since the Accords, it’s been an uphill battle but saving the world isn’t some political minefield,” Steve shakes his head. 

“The Accords,” Natasha repeats. She sits up in her chair. “What are those?”

“Documents signed by about 100,” Steve begins. 

“117,” Tony corrects him. 

“117 countries to regulate the activities of enhanced beings,” Steve continues. “Basically the Avengers are no longer a private organization. Technically we are at the mercy of the government and everyone else.”

“And how did that come about?” Natasha wipes her mouth with a napkin. 

The table is silent for a second conscious of Wanda’s feelings about the situation. She was young and she’s still so young. The youngest in the group besides Peter.  

“There was an accident in Lagos, Nigeria,” Wanda is the one to speak. “There was a mission. A bomb. I did what I had to do and it hurt a lot of people.” She knows she’s dumbing it down but it’s really all Natasha needs to know. 

“So you’re solely responsible for it?” Natasha looks over at her with a challenge. “I’m not seeing how those powers are a help to the team. Or any of us. Really it seems they’re only there to serve the people that wield them.” 

“Whoa,” Steve says and Sam gives a low whistle. 

“My powers have their cons,” Wanda says. “Y/n’s though, she’s used them for plenty of times. Like saving your life.” 

“You mean the accident?” Natasha tilts her head. 

“No,” Wanda says. “I mean if you can look past whatever this is you have going on you would realize she loves you. A lot. You’ve been home two days and you woke up with your guns blazing. Not a real surprise for you but I won’t allow you to tear down her character.” Wanda stands to go and find you. 

The rest of the table sits awkwardly, no one daring to ask what that was about before Natasha stands too. She walks in the opposite direction in search of an exit. She needs a bit of air. Maybe she overstepped and crossed a boundary. Maybe she should have been a bit nicer. What she doesn’t regret is how she feels. In her memory, she met Wanda one time before this, which wasn’t a good meeting. The woman slipping into her mind caused her a lot of pain. It’s something that she counts as one of her worst experiences. 

“Hey,” Steve steps out onto the veranda to stand beside her. He’s holding two glasses of water, passing one to Natasha, and keeping one for himself.

“Hey,” Natasha breathes. 

“That was interesting,” Steve looks over the wooded skyline. “What was that about really?”

Natasha sucks her teeth but never gives him an answer. She doesn't want another one of his speeches about how she should be a good person or give anyone else a chance. 

“Did you know how we met?” Natasha asks. It's a rhetorical question. Yet she still wants an answer. 

“I did,” Steve nods in understanding. 

“And you were able to get past that?” 

“I was,” Steve shrugs. “I’m a pretty forgiving person. You on the other hand hold a grudge.”

“Didn’t seem to work if I’m married to her,” Natasha grumbles. 

“Ah,” Steve breathes. “She told you and what happened? You blew up?” At Natasha’s look, he chuckles. 

“Don’t pretend you know me, Steve Rogers.” Natasha sets down her glass next to her feet. 

“But I do,” Steve shakes his head. “You and y/n are a team. If you don’t listen to me maybe you can have Clint here to come and knock some sense into your thick head. He and y/n are like the only people you listen to.”

“Maybe I will give him a call,” Natasha relents. 

“You’re allowed to be angry, Romanoff, but if you don’t view her as your wife right now view her as your teammate,” Steve suggests. “I don’t know how that works for you but as your captain, I say get it together. I won’t have this on my team.”

“You can’t kick me off the team,” Natasha raises a brow. 

“I can’t,” Steve gives her that. “But I will be very disappointed if you don’t give yourself a chance. Memories or not. She’s there for you.” Steve leaves her to sit with her thoughts once again. Hopefully this time she understands that. 

****************************

Meanwhile, in the lounge, you and Wanda are sitting with the girls. Morgan and Olivia are having their own special tea party while Lily sits at your feet with a doll. You’re having a private conversation with her. Wanda recounted the conversation with Natasha to you. 

“I have no words,” You sigh. “I want to give it a chance. She hasn’t been home very long. I think with time maybe she’ll see?” You don’t say names and you don’t give many contexts in case the very attentive three-year-old across from you picks up on it. 

“I understand,” Wanda rests a hand on your knee. “Through all of that don’t hesitate to come to me.”

You nod silently. “I want to talk to Tony or someone about my powers.” You confess to her. You avoid her gaze before forcing yourself to look into her concerned green eyes. “The accident happened so fast and we both know my shield works instantly. It’s most of the time an unconscious fear thing but I’ve learned to control it since HYDRA.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Maybe it was the hormones?” You wonder aloud. You were preparing your body for IVF and it seems a bit farfetched but you’re not exactly sure. “I’ve kept her safe before and that’s the only thing that’s been different lately. I don’t understand?” You look down at your hands. “I know she blames me.” You lower your tone. “I don’t have answers for her either.”

“It’s called an accident for a reason,” Wanda reminds you. 

“Even still,” You can’t fathom any of it. “What if the girls were in the car? What if they were hurt too?”

“They weren’t and they’re both perfectly fine,” Wanda points over to Olivia who is pouring herself another pretend tea to drink. “You can’t keep thinking about what happened and beating yourself up about it.” 

“I know,” You nod. You can feel a familiar warmth through your body and you turn to find Natasha standing nearby. She’s been watching you. 

“I’m ready,” She speaks curtly. Truth be told you’re a bit surprised she wants to come home with you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You look down at Lily. “Let me say goodbye to everyone else.” You stand to go and gather your things. You look back to Wanda. “Be nice.” You warn your sister. Wanda’s not one for confrontation but she’s also not one to stand down from a fight. They don’t speak until you leave the room. 

“What you said about her earlier,” Natasha raises her chin. “About saving me what did you mean?” 

Wanda stands, walking over to another side of the room, where the girls can't hear. She expects Natasha to follow and she does. Though she keeps a comfortable guarded distance.

“A couple of years ago,” Wanda says. “There was a mission you had in some part of Brazil.”

“What? The one where we got the girls?” Natasha questions. 

“That’s the one,” Wanda frowns. “It was another place like Hydra. Experiments and things. I don’t know the full details but you two along with Steve and Sam had been appointed to that area. Something happened and someone aimed some kind of magical weapon at you. It was supposed to kill you and instead, Y/n absorbed it. That’s when you found the girls and their mother. Y/n held on until you remained safe at the hospital. She passed out for a week after that.” 

This clearly makes Natasha uncomfortable to think about. 

“She’s cared about you for a long time, Natasha,” Wanda finishes just as you step into the room. 

“This makes me look like an asshole,” Natasha admits aloud.

“It does,” Wanda agrees.

“I have the car ready,” You pick up Lily before calling over to Olivia. “Morgan, we will set up a playdate with your mother soon.” You kiss the little brunette on her forehead. She waves you goodbye. 

Natasha doesn’t give Wanda a goodbye or anything. She walks to the car in silence. She was sitting in the front seat with a frown on her face. 

How was she supposed to feel now? 

************************

When you get home, Natasha asks to see one of the family photo albums. You show her and give her time to absorb all of the information. She seems a bit overwhelmed by it all and excuses herself to her bedroom where she doesn’t come out for the rest of the day. 

You talked about a lot of things with her. The biggest shocker was that she had been breastfeeding Lily. It still seems surreal to her and yet it makes sense. The constant soreness in her chest is understandable. Even as she stands here in front of the mirror, looking at herself, inspecting the changes in her body. She still looks relatively the same. Save for the purple bruising around her ribs and the cast she looks the same. 

She slips off her bra, looking down at her breasts, noting the heaviness of them. She doesn’t know anything about breastfeeding. She also doesn't know how to express the milk for Lily to drink. She’s much too embarrassed and distrustful to ask you. Though she feels it would be a huge help to pump. Throwing on a shirt, she walks to your bedroom, where she finds the pump on her side of the bed. She grabs it. Rushing back into her bedroom, she closes and locks the door behind her. She opens her phone, finding a video to guide her through. 

“Position the breast shield over your breast,” The woman in the video gives clear directions. Natasha does as told, struggling with the right position before she feels she has it. She turns it on, groaning in shock when the suction is a bit more than she’s used to. She stops the pumping, noting that her sensitivity doesn't help, as she tries to prepare herself again. Once she feels that she is ready, she turns it on again, breathing through her nose, as the machine does what it’s supposed to. 

For a while, Natasha doesn’t see anything and she feels as if none of what you said is true. Until a small droplet of liquid gold drops into the bottle. Natasha can’t take her eyes off the machine as she watches more droplets, rather feels the warm, tingling sensation leave her breasts. Actual tears come to her eyes as she realizes this is something she’s been able to do for her baby. 

Damn the Red Room and damn Dreykov. 

Here alone in this bedroom, she realizes her life is vastly different than what she thought it would be. 

[sea-owl]

Polin week day 1: Favorite Quote

So really, there was no urgent need to move up the wedding.

Except that he wanted to.

Colin's talk with the mama's through Portia's eyes. Set in the show verse.

"Damn!" Portia cursed as she read invitation sent to her to join Mr Colin Bridgerton and his mother Lady Bridgerton for tea. "I knew I should have encouraged Penelope to accept Lord Debling's offer. That foolish boy is going to break her heart all over again!"

For what other reason could he have to meet with just them and not have Penelope there besides wanting to end the engagement. To take back his proposal. Perhaps they can sue for breach of contract? Penelope was certainly not the one ending this, Portia knew that to be a fact. Or maybe she can orchestrate them being caught alone together, the boy is honorable enough. The ton might not have cared about them being alone together in the past but Portia knows if she makes a big enough deal about it so will they. Or Portia could strangle him with his own cravat. A dead fiancé will gather more sympathy than being jilted a month before a wedding.

As she walked across the square to the Bridgerton House Portia came up with more and more ideas to make sure Penelope ended up married. She will not let this boy ruin any chance their family had of securing themselves. Portia needed every possible daughter wed to increase their chances for a son, especially since Philippa had just given birth to a daughter. It seems Portia's curse of only seeing female descendants continues.

"Portia," Violet greeted her.

"Violet," Portia bowed her head.

Oddly enough this past season the two women have found themselves tentatively reforming a friendship. Portia couldn't tell you how but she suspects part of the reason is how tied together their two families have been, and was about to be even more closely tied. Or was.

"Do you know why Mr Bridgerton has called for us?" Portia asked. She was currently seated next to Violet on one of the couches. A servant recently brought tea and enough snacks to feed a small army.

Violet shook her head. "No he has not said. But it's probably nothing more than some pre wedding jitters."

Portia hummed as she sipped her tea. Pre wedding jitters can lead to a jilted woman.

Violet looked over Portia's shoulder at the door. "Oh Colin there you are."

"Mother," the boy greeted. "Lady Feathering."

Portia smiled. "Mr. Bridgerton."

"Come sit darling," Violet gestured to couch across form them. "Have some snacks."

The boy sat down but instead of devouring the plate in front of him he just picked up one of the sandwiches. Twisting the sandwich this way and that before putting it back down on the plate and the plate off to the side. How odd. Portia couldn't think of a time she has ever seen the boy turn down food.

The boy turned towards the mothers. "I am worried for Penelope, she has been so tried these past few weeks."

"Not to worry darling," Violet reassured him. "It's just the wedding preparations, all brides to be loose a little bit of sleep during the planning stages."

Colin looked down sheepishly. "Well I fear it may not just be the stress of wedding planning. We have been left alone on quiet a few occasions in the past few months."

Portia had to set down her cup. She was going to kill this boy for an entirely different reason now! Twice! Twice now she has had unwed mother to be in her home! They had barely escaped the scandal the last time it happened! Now this boy mocks them by possibly infecting her daughter with his spawn long before he offered marriage? Is this why he changed his mind back then, and why he wants to hasten any and all wedding preparations along now?

Portia glared at the boy, ready to tear into him when she felt a hand grab her wrist. Her glare turned onto Violet who gave her a look that said It's already done. Let's figure out how to navigate now

"I will speak to Anthony about requesting a special license," Violet said.

"And I will see the earliest we can move up the arrangements," Portia sighed.

Watching as a smile spread across her future son in-law's face and a softness fill his gaze at the mention of Penelope Portia found herself coming to the realization that perhaps there was no real urgent need to move up the wedding like he led them to believe. Perhaps he just wanted to be married sooner.

Either way it will bring Portia a possible grandson sooner, and if she was being honest she wouldn't mind having Penelope and her Bridgerton being in charge of the estate. At least she knew it would be good hands.