#sometimes a family is a god of death the former god of death and the weird tarantula thing that crawled out of a grave

[aveloka-draws]

So what's Webber up to then?

Eepy

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | oneshot

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

[Part 2]

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.

Words count : 7600

Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron

The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.

For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.

It had been the best solution, you knew. 

For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded.  He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.

So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.

The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.

You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt.  It sill fucking hurt.

Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation.  A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges.  And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled.  Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.

Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.

During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger. 

Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.

And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders.  Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.

But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it.  He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.

First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own. 

And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.

You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.

You loved him.

So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.

Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?

Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.

But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.

Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.

It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell.  Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost.  King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.

But above all, it was haunted by him.

The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.

You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you.  Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.

But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.

Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.

On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.

When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.

"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you." 

You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor.  You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.

"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.

It felt good to be back.  It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you. 

Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.

The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead.  It must have been your imagination.  You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.

Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest.  Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.

At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.

But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.

You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.

One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.

The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.

And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.

You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.

"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen. 

That voice. It couldn't be.

Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.

It can’t be.

That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.

"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."

The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.

It is impossible.

He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.

Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?

"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.

You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.

His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears. 

The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets.  And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.

You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.

He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.

The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.

"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.

He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.

"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company. 

He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.

He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.

A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal.  You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead. 

But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.

"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly. 

There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway. 

"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"

"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him.  You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be.  You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't." 

"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.

"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."

The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs. 

"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you.  You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Not a sound leaves your lips.

"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."

Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall.  Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself -  but you can't help feeling your heart clench.  You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.

"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time. 

You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.

"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him.  A bit of anger, perhaps, too.

"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly.  Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."

Everything is so confused in your mind.  A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy.  Of love too.

You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.

"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."

You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips. 

There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.

His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.

"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."

You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."

His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.

It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.

You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion.   You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you. 

The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.

"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.

His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.

Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.

"On your knees then."

The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit.  He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.

Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely. 

Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion. 

His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."

You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly. 

"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.

His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience. 

He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps. 

" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.

The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.

"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you. 

The memory was so close and yet so far away.

Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.

"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him.  He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.

"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.

"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence.  You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious. 

His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching. 

He doesn't let go of you. 

"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him.  It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.

His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his. 

Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you. 

You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him.  You had always burned for him.

In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.

There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.

His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.

He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow. 

He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other.  Your hands are buried in his long silver hair.  You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.

The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.

"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet? 

Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.

"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress. 

You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.

"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."

"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."

Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.

You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.

You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.

He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.

He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices. 

The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.

" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body. 

He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.

You feel whole again and you want to cry.  You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.

You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.

"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.

"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable. 

You need him. 

When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.

Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.

"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."

The praise is sweet music to your ears.  You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.

You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.

Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.

"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."

The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him.  It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.

I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you. 

He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.

The weight of his body on yours is comforting.  For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.

When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness. 

You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.

Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you.  You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.

And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.

You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.

"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."

When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy. 

He lets out a hm and pauses.

"Is he yours?"

You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth.  You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?

"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.

"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"

Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie.  You know you should lie.  To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years.  You only need one word.

You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No, he's not." 

The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.

"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.

You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.

You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips. 

" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."

You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye.  It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.

"What did you say?"

You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words.  You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath. 

"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.

It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.

Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.

Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"My son," he repeats in awe.  It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity.  Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.

"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.

He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.

And this time, he makes love to you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.

"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.

It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.

Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.

"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"

The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.

"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know." 

He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.

"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him. 

You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him.  You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.

You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up. 

Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know."  Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence.  He has always suffered from his father's indifference.

You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.

You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions. 

But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

I Do

Part 2 of Marry Me

Summary: It's your wedding day and as you are getting ready you can't help but remember how you got to this point. But sometimes even on the happiest days, anxiety can be the biggest enemy.

Note: italicized sections are flashbacks

Warning: Angst with Fluff, dirty talk, almost office sex but getting caught, mention of death, toxic past relationships, panic attacks, drinking

Word count: 8.8k

“I can’t believe you're getting married!” Tony exclaimed probably for the hundredth time during this whole process. “I’m more nervous than I was for Vision’s wedding,” you fought the urge to roll your eyes as you sat in front of the makeup artist. You felt bad for the poor woman who had to endure your family’s antics.

“Honey, have a drink,” Maria pushed a glass of whiskey into Tony’s hand. “You are going to stress out the bride.” You weren’t stressed. You were 100% content and ready to marry the woman of your dreams. All you had to do was get through a silly little ceremony and it would be official. You told Yelena that you would settle for getting married in a courtroom but she wanted a wedding. So you gave her a wedding.

“You look like the day you told me you had a crush on her,” Howard said, coming from the balcony with a cigar in his mouth. “All flustered and nervous. If I knew any better I’d say you were getting married.” You chuckled slightly at the light blush creeping up Tony’s face.

“Well then I learned that she was gay,” he pointed at you. “You were my first heartbreak.” You chuckled.

“I think you did well for yourself,” you smiled.

“Damn, right he did!” Pepper said and your bridal party cheered. This was the only thing you cared about, having your family together. Well, not everyone. Damn, you missed your parents.

*   

 God, you had to have a long talk with Natasha about your last drink. Your head was throbbing. At least the newlyweds had the forethought to book a place with continental breakfast so everyone could nurse their hangovers. “Someone got laid last night,” Tony said, slamming down a cup of coffee and sitting in the chair next to you. The sound echoed in your head. 

“Fuck Stark,” you groaned. “Why are you always so loud?” He chuckled at your expense. The man was never hungover, it was annoying. 

“So are you going to tell me who it was?” He took a piece of toast off your plate. “Because I’m all your boss so I will find out,” you kept your mouth shut, sipping on your coffee. “I bet it was with Carol. She eyefucks you at every gala,” you smirked. You knew the former Air Force pilot was with Val, maybe they were looking for a third. “Monica is attractive, was it her? Please don’t tell me you joined Romanoff and Barnes.” 

“Shut up,” you laughed. You sighed. “Fine I’ll tell you but you have to keep it quiet. Can you do that?” He nodded. You glared at him. 

“Scouts honor. Now come on tell me,” he whined. You smiled, biting your lip as you remembered lasted night. 

“It was Yelena,” Tony stared at you, mouth slightly open, and blinked a few times at you. 

“Romanoff is going to kill you,” he deadpanned. “At least leave me something nice in your will.” You rolled your eyes, smacking the man slightly on the chest. 

“She knows,” his face scrunched in disgust. “Oh my god, ew, not like that,” Laughing pulled your attention away from Tony and you watched as Yelena walked into the dining room with Kate and America. She was still wearing the long-sleeved shirt that you let her burrow. It made you smile. Tony hit your leg. “Sorry,” you snapped out of it. “Natasha gave her stamp of approval for me to pursue a relationship with her.”

“Why did you make it sound like a business proposition?” He asked. You huffed out a sigh, crossing your arms. “I’m kidding,” he laughed. “She’s the one that has put a smile back on your face,” you nodded. Yelena sat down at a table with her sister and her green eyes found yours, a playful smirk on her lips. You wanted to go over and kiss her again. “Well, I’m glad she’s making you happy.” 

“Yeah, she is.” 

*       

Maria and Howard asked you to join them when your hair and makeup were done. It was a light look as you didn’t wear makeup in your normal day-to-day life. So you stood with them on the balcony that overlooked the winery. “You are making me kind of nervous,” you chuckled. It reminded you of when you and Tony ‘burrowed’ Howard’s 1960 red Mustang. He wasn’t happy.

“There is nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” Maria said, sitting down at the small patio set. Her husband remained standing behind her. You sat down in front of her.

“We have a small gift for you,” you groaned. “Hey, lose the attitude squirt,” You fought the couple tooth and nail during this process. They wanted to help pay for the wedding or gift you something extravagant, but you declined both.

“It’s tradition for the bride to have something old, new, burrowed, and blue on their wedding day,” Maria explained. You and Yelena weren’t having a traditional American wedding with her being Russian and both members of the LGBTQ community but there were some things you were doing. You weren’t seeing each other until Yelena walked down the aisle, Yelena would be throwing her bouquet (you were hopping Natasha would catch it), and you had two flower girls (Lila and Morgan), and Nate and Cooper were your ring bearers.

“For your something burrowed,” Howard took off his cufflinks and handed them to you. “I expect those back in perfect condition.” he teased. You rolled your eyes but took them.

“For your something old,” Maria handed you a pin. “And it counts for your blue.” It was a blue jay pin that your mother gave her. She never took it off. You felt tears form in your eyes. “So they can be there with you while you walk down the aisle.”

“Your father gave me those,” Howard added. You choose Howard and Maria to walk you down the aisle in place of your parents. “They would be proud of you, kid,” you cleared your throat, trying to push down your emotions not wanting to ruin your makeup.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Both you. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“It has been a pleasure to watch you grow up,” Maria stood up and kissed the top of your head. “Here is something new,” she pulled out a small box and a letter. “From your soon-to-be wife. We’ll let you open it in private.” You thanked the couple and they returned to the suite as you opened the box. Inside was a new pair of earrings. They were simple golden studs with a small diamond. You smiled and put them in, now you understood why Pepper told you not to wear earrings. You opened the letter.

‘Darling, There are so many things I wish to write in this letter but I’ll keep it brief and save it for my vows. I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together. As for the earrings, Maria told me a story of a family vacation you took with the Starks around the time of your parent's passing to Cape Code. You wore a pair of earrings that your mother gave you into the ocean and unfortunately lost them. I know these won’t be able to replace the ones you lost. But I hope they provide you with a sense of comfort along with the mementos Maria and Howard gave you. I love you and see you soon.’ 

You reread the letter a few more times before folding it nicely. You fiddled with the earrings. You were a mess that trip even more so when you lost your earrings. You missed them so deeply and you wished they were here with you.

*   

“Are you sure they want me here?” Yelena asked, anxiously twisting the rings on her fingers. You were sitting in the driveway of the Stark Family Home. It was Maria’s birthday. Tonight was the small gathering for family and a few close friends and tomorrow was the bigger party. The Starks never needed a reason to party. You took her hand in yours, bringing it to your lips. 

“They asked for you specifically,” it was true. When you told Tony about your new relationship, he couldn’t wait to tell his parents. They’ve met the blonde but you knew it was at a work event when you were introducing the new group of entrepreneurs. It was different now. She was just another Stark employee now she was a Stark employee and your girlfriend. “If you don’t want to go we can turn around and we can hang out at my place.” Yelena shook her head. 

“Is Wanda going to be there?” You sighed. 

“Yes,” the blonde tensed up. “But I don’t care about her. I’m with you and she made her choice.” You haven’t run into your ex-girlfriend since her wedding and your new relationship with Yelena. But you knew she knew. Vision seemed quite interested in your relationship, especially with how it would affect the workplace. It wasn’t a coincidence that an email from HR was in your inbox regarding relationships with coworkers. 

“Alright, let’s do this,” you turned off the car and walked over to Yelena’s side to open the door for her. “My knight in shining armor,” she said, kissing your cheek. She had the small gift bag in her hand, that you knew Maria was going to be livid about. You held onto her hand as you led her up to the massive doorway. “I sometimes forget how much money the Starks have,” Yelena mumbled, looking at the house. “Tony is so..”

“Stupid, cocky, a pain in my ass,” the blonde laughed, pinching your sides. “Ouch, rude.” 

“Don’t talk about our boss like that,” she teased. You rolled your eyes, ringing the doorbell. 

“He was a brother to me long before he was chairman of Stark Industries.” It wasn’t long before the door swung open. 

“There she is!” Howard said, pulling you in a hug. Your hand was ripped out of Yelena’s hold. “I guess you only come around when you know we’ll have food.” He teased. 

“Let me go, old man,” you pushed him off of you as he messed with your hair. 

“You did not just call me old,” he gasped. You stepped into the house and Yelena closed the door behind you. “It ain’t my birthday, sweet cheeks.” 

“I’m telling your wife you said,” you smiled, fixing your hair and polo. “Howard, I would like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Yelena-”

“Yelena Belova,” the man cut you off, extending his hand for her to shake. “I know all about you. You are the reason Stark Industries is branching overseas to work with the Wakandans,” Yelena shook his hand. You saw the tension leave her body. “It has always been my dream for the company to expand so we can help more people. I’d love to hear all about it.”

“Darling,” you saw Maria walk over. “You promised there would be no talking about work.” She scolded her husband. “Hello, Yelena it’s wonderful to meet you.” The matriarch hugged your girlfriend. Over his wife’s shoulder, Howard mouthed, ‘We’ll talk later.’ 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Yelena smiled. “And Happy Birthday.” She handed Maria the gift bag. The woman glared at you but you held up your hands. 

“Wasn’t me,” you defended. “That was all her.” You were throwing your girlfriend to the wolves but when it came to Mama Stark it was for the best. Inside were two stained glass blue jays that she could hang in the window. 

“Oh, I love them. Thank you,” she hugged your girlfriend again. Your mouth hung open slightly. 

“How come when I get you a gift you threaten to kick me out of the will.” 

“Hush you,” Maria teased, lopping her arm with Yelena. “Come. Dinner is almost ready so we are having drinks in the sitting room.” Maria dragged Yelena in the direction of the room, leaving you alone with Howard. 

“Women,” he said, hitting you with his elbow. “Am I right?” You rolled your eyes. 

“You always are,” You grabbed him by the shoulder. “Come on let’s not keep everyone waiting.” When you joined the rest of the guests, Yelena was standing with Tony and Pepper. You excused yourself and joined the trio. 

“About time you showed up,” Tony teased, as he leaned closer to you. “Someone has been sending dirty looks to your girlfriend.” You saw Wanda standing with Vision and Bruce, another close friend of the Stark Family. You chuckled. 

“Maybe she’s upset I got lucky on her wedding night and she didn’t,” Tony gagged, punching you in the shoulder. 

“Children,” Maria warned and Tony mumbled a ‘sorry mom’ under his breath. “Dinner is ready.” The group filled into the dining room, and each person had a personalized name plate to designate where everyone was sitting. You pulled out Yelena’s chair for her. 

“Why don’t you do that for me anymore?” Pepper teased as she sat next to you. Tony huffed. 

“They are in the honeymoon phase,” he said. “They’ll grow out of it.” You smiled, placing your hand on Yelena’s thigh. 

“How are you doing?” You whispered. 

“Good,” she smiled. “Really good.”

*    

Once dinner was over, you joined Tony, Vision, and Howard for a glass of whiskey on the balcony. The Elder Stark would pass out cigars but you refused one. It was tradition. You remembered begging your father to join because you wanted to be with him and Tony instead of your mother. You haven’t been on this balcony since you broke up with Wanda. You missed it. Sitting back in your chair, you sipped on your drink and listened to the three Starks talk with one another. Your mind wandered to Yelena. You knew Wanda wouldn’t try to do anything to save face with Maria but you were worried nonetheless. “So,” Howard said, looking at you. Oh boy. “You’ve been oddly quiet. Most nights we can’t get you to shut up.”

“Cool thanks,” you smiled, wrapping your hands around the glass. “I liked listening to you guys talk,” you admitted. “It reminded me of when we were younger and my father was here to join us.” That shifted the conversation and you were grateful until Vision directed it back to you.

“How are you and Miss. Belova?” He asked. You almost choked on your drink.

“We are good,” you smiled. “Just taking it slow and learning more about each other.” You were not giving this man more information to feed to his wife.

“That girl is smart,” Howard praised. “She is going to go far in that company.” Oh, you knew that. She was helping you, Sharon, and Natasha create a branch in California. You were waiting on approval to go ahead with the project.

“Is your relationship affecting your workplace dynamic?” Vision questioned. “You are technically her superior.” Your jaw clenched. You heard Tony shift in his seat, ready to defend you but you held up your hand.

“It has not,” you answered. “If she has any issues, she reports it to Sharon, and then Sharon reports it to me so there is a non-biased party in the middle,” you sat up in your chair. “Now I have a question for you, Viz. Did you have these same levels of concern with Pepper and your brother’s relationship? Or do you just have a problem with it because it’s me?” You smiled. “Excuse me gentlemen but I need a refill.” You stood up and walked back into the house. Walking into the empty kitchen, you dumped your drink in the sink and washed the glass.

“I’m guessing my son said something to upset you.” You chuckled at Maria’s statement.

“He didn’t upset me,” you said. Besides you knew Tony was giving him an earful. “Are you getting a cup of tea? I can make you some.” She nodded and sat down. You began to prepare it. Your mother and Maria were the ones that taught you how to make it. Maria said you could win anyone over with the perfect cup of tea.

“I like her,” Maria broke the silence. You looked at the matriarch. “I like the smile you get when you look at her.” You nodded.

“Yeah, she’s great,” you leaned on the counter as you waited for the water to boil. “Do you think my parents would have liked her?” You asked Maria the same question about Wanda.

“Take my hand,” you did. “As long as you were happy they would have loved whoever you brought home,” the kettle began to whistle. It was the same answer she had given before. You turned around to pour the water into the mug. “But yes, they would have loved her.” That was new. You smiled, loving the warm feeling that covered you.

*      

“Let’s have a toast!” Sarah said, pushing an empty champagne glass in your hand. Laura came up behind her to fill it with a smile.

“She’s been waiting for this moment all day,” you chuckled and thanked the mother of 3. You became close to the Barton Family because of Yelena, you loved going to their house in Iowa. Once everyone had a drink and Lila and Morgan were given apple juice, Tony raised his glass.

“To a beautiful ceremony and a reception we’ll all forget.” You rolled your eyes. Sarah raised her glass next, and you gave her a pointed look to be nice.

“To picking someone that loves you as hard as you love them.” You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to your best friend.

“To looking hot and feeling hot.” Pepper cheered.

“To a long and happy life to the beautiful bride-to-be,” Laura added.

“Cheers!”

*     

It was the Gala of the year, the anniversary of the day Stark Industries was founded. Everyone would be dressed to the nines, the best catering company would be hired and paired with the right drinks. At the end of the night, awards would be given, and there would be dancing, laughing, and sharing stories. Most importantly the press would be there. So much press. Everything had a place and a reason behind it. The type of food, the partners and competitors that were invited, and the way people arrived. It was the biggest headache for those who planned the party but when you stepped out of the car with flashing lights it was worth it. You arrived third to last, in front of Tony and Pepper and Maria and Howard. You rested your hand on Yelena’s thigh. It was the first big event you two were attending as a couple. She was wearing a high slight, dark blue dress with spaghetti straps. You were dressed in a black suit with a dark blue pocket square. Before you left, you gifted your girlfriend a diamond necklace which she was wearing. “Are you excited, sweetheart?” You asked, glancing at her. 

“Fuck yeah. I’m ready to eat until I burst and drink alcohol I didn’t pay for,” you rolled your eyes, stopping the car and putting it in the park. A valet attendant would park it for you. You could hear the paparazzi and see the lights from their cameras. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Yelena smiled before capturing her lips with yours. It was a slow kiss and she pulled away before you could ruin her makeup. You could kiss her for hours if she let you. Every time you kissed her your stomach flipped. 

“About 100 times, darling,” she said. 

“Well I’ll tell you 100 more,” you kissed her again. “Let’s go woo the crowd, baby.” You got out first, waving to the crowd before running over to the passenger side. You opened the door and held out your hand. Yelena took it and you helped her out. The camera lights began to go crazy but your eyes were only on your girlfriend. You stared at each other for a moment before heading to the entrance. Then the questions started. ‘Y/n, how long have you been dating Yelena Belova?’ ‘Is this why you pushed so hard for the Wakanda Project?’ ‘Has this affected your working relationship?’ ‘Can you comment on Wanda and Vision’s relationship?’ But you paid no mind to them. 

Oh, you remembered the headlines from the first event after your break up with Wanda and she attended it with Vision. ‘Maximoff is after a REAL Stark.’ ‘Y/n loses to the Starks again.’ It was brutal. Maria, the company’s PR, had to put out a lot of fires. You made it your mission to make her job as easy as possible. So you ignored the questions and you had a statement ready to go live tomorrow. You and Yelena stopped for one more picture before entering the venue. You felt a weight lifted off your shoulders, feeling safe within the building. Only selective reporters were allowed during the actual event. “I hate the press,” you mumbled, holding onto Yelena’s hand. She chuckled as her sister and Bucky walked over. The redhead was wearing a floor-length black strapless dress and Bucky wore a suit with his tie red that matched Natasha’s lipstick. 

“I see you both made it through alive,” Natasha said. 

“Barely,” Yelena teased. 

“I don’t know how you deal with them all the time,” Bucky mumbled. 

“With a lot of alcohol,” you smiled. “Let’s go drink.”

* 

You were at the founder's table with the Starks plus Wanda, Pepper, Natasha, and Bucky. It was…special to say the least. You kept your hand on Yelena’s thigh while Wanda kept sending daggers your way. It was amazing to see how jealous she was as her new husband ignored her. You noticed Yelena’s drink was getting low as she was in a deep conversation with Pepper. You stood up and took her drink, whispering, ‘I’ll be right back,’ to your girlfriend. Before you could leave the table, Yelena turned to kiss you. You smiled and walked over to the bar. As you waited for the bartender, you heard a set of footsteps approaching you. You knew it was Wanda without having to turn around. You sighed. “What do you want Wanda?” You asked. “You’ve been starring daggers at me all night.” 

“I don’t think Yelena is good for you,” She said, standing next to you. You gave yourself whiplash on how fast you turned to look at her, not hiding the shock by her blunt comment. “You both are in different stages of life. You are well established in your career and she’s just getting her footing. It’s not fair to you that she’s using you to get ahead.” Your jaw clenched. Oh, you were so close to losing your cool. 

“It’s so nice that Vision looks like a loving and doting husband,” you deadpanned as the bartender put your drinks down. “Oh, I’m sorry I thought were saying things that aren’t true. Stay out of my relationship and I’ll stay out of yours.” As you grew into your career you learned to ignore what people said around you. It was damaging to your mental health to follow every rumor or lie spread about you. Even though your relationship wasn’t out to the public those you worked with knew. They were respectful at face value but you heard their whispers. They questioned the validity of your relationship with Yelena and you were only together to benefit the company or each other. It was ridiculous but your anxiety-induced brain made you question everything. Yelena was so far out of your league, that you wondered why she picked you. 

You sat back down with your and Yelena’s drink. “Thank you, dorogoy (sweetheart),” she smiled but frowned suddenly. “What’s wrong?” She asked. You forced a smile and shook your head. 

“Nothing,” you said, putting your arm behind her chair. “Don’t worry about it.” Yelena watched as Wanda returned to her seat, you could see the gears turning in her head. “Don’t,” you whispered in her ear and kissed her neck. “She’s not worth it.” She looked at you, her lips were inches from yours. 

“Come with me,” she said. You knew there was no room for argument. You both excused yourself from the table as Tony cat-called you both. You fought the urge to flip him off as Yelena dragged you to a hallway. “What did she do?” She asked once you were alone. 

“Nothing important,” you said, leaning against the wall. “Nothing that I know that isn’t true,” you looked away from the blonde. She sighed, closing the space, and used her finger to force you to look back at her. 

“It’s bothering you. So I want to know how to help,” she smirked. “Or I can go over there and force her to tell me, you know I’ve been looking for a reason to kick her ass,” you chuckled. That would be a sight to see. You hated the idea of keeping stuff from her but you didn’t want to upset her. You sighed. 

“She said you aren’t good for me,” you told her. “That you are just using me to advance your career.” Her green eyes went wide. 

“You know that isn’t true, right?” She whispered. “I-I would never do that.” Tears began to swell in her eyes. 

“Hey,” you brought her in for a hug. “I know you wouldn’t. No tears, okay? Don’t let that bitch ruin your makeup,” she laughed against your chest but you kept her in your arms when she didn’t pull away. “Sometimes,” you continued. “I can’t believe that I get to call you mine. You are so far out of my league that my mind likes to be my biggest enemy.” Yelena looked up at you. 

“Have you looked in a mirror, detka (babe)?” She questioned. “Or hear what some of the newer associates say about you or read what the press writes?” You remembered the article that Tony joked about. You were New York City’s most eligible bachelorette for a while. “You have the looks, power, and money, and I’m out of your league.” 

“Yes because you see as me and not as a Stark without the last name.”

“And I love you with or without the responsibility that comes with that name.” You stared at her. 

“I love you too,” you said without hesitation and captured her lips. Someone coughing broke you both apart. It was Maria. 

“As cute and disgusting as this is,” she smirked. “The award ceremony is about to start.” Ugh, that meant it was time for your speech. 

“Thank you, Maria,” Yelena smiled. “We’ll be right out,” the brunette left, playfully pointing to her watch. “Ready?” You weren’t. You were dreading to go back to that table. As your girlfriend turned to leave, you pulled her back towards you. “What-?” you kissed her. 

“Tell me again,” you whispered against her lips. She looked confused. “Please baby girl,” you pleaded. “Tell me again.” Her confusion disappeared and she smiled. 

“I love you,” the blonde said. “I am yours and you are mine.” Your heart fluttered. 

“I’m yours.” 

*       

“Are you excited?” Pepper asked, helping you put on Howard’s cufflinks. You waited for the click of the camera to go off before answering.

“I am,” you smiled. “I think I’m more excited for the reception than the ceremony.” Another photo. Pepper laughed.

“I was the same way,” she moved behind you to fix your collar and lay your bow tie flat. “I want you to know Yelena has helped you a lot but you’ve done amazing as well.” If Tony was the brother you never had, Pepper was the sister. You smiled. “It wasn’t easy but you opened up your heart again.”

“It was worth it,” you told her. “It was worth all the growing pains and hurdles we went through,” Pepper hummed. “And thank you for being there when I wasn’t. You have a lot on your plate and I’m sorry I added onto it.”

“Never apologize,” she placed your hands on your shoulders. “You are family,” you watched her smile through the mirror. “Now you are wedding ready.” You were wearing a cream three-piece suit. The blue jay pin was attached to your breast pocket and the color of your bow tie matched the sage green of the bridal party. You smiled back at her.

*  

 You loved your job. Loved it so much. But there were moments that you hated it. You figured that was common for any job. There was a pile of new hires, project requests, and yearly reviews that needed to be done. It seemed to be never-ending as the company continued to grow. You sighed, rolling your neck to release some of the tension, and got back to work. The hours seemed to keep passing but the piles of paper were never ending. A gentle knock on your office caused you to look up as Yelena walked in. “Hi,” you said. She looked concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” She countered. “We were supposed to meet at Kumos and you weren’t answering your phone. I was worried,” you glanced at the clock. 

“Shit,” you stood up suddenly, knocking against your desk. The lamp rattled from the impact. “I’m so sorry. I lost track of time.” You rushed out. Your hands shook as you began to organize the papers on your desk. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” But you shook your head. 

“I should have been paying attention to the time,” you said. You felt the panic build in your chest. “I got busy with all this,” you gestured to the mess on your desk. “I’m not creating excuses,” you added on. “I-”

“Dorogoy (sweetheart),” she cut you off, raising her hands to stop you. You flinched from the sudden action. Yelena frowned, the worry evident on her face. “Baby,” she said slowly. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. You needed to get out of here. Quickly, you ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. You locked it and slid down the wall until you hit the ground. It felt like there was a thousand pounds of pressure resting on your chest. Every breath you tried to take got caught in your lungs. Everything felt too small and too big at once like you were sinking and couldn’t get out. 

 *     

 Yelena watched as you quickly ran into the small bathroom and slammed the door shut. The sound caused the blonde to snap out of her haze and rush to the door but she heard the door lock. “Fuck,” she mumbled. She knew banging on the door and pleading for you to come out would send you deeper into a panic attack. She’s had to calm her sister down from them. Fishing her phone out of her pocket she scrolled through her contacts. Tony was out of town. She wasn’t sure if she could get her sister involved and she sure wasn’t hell going to call Wanda. That left Pepper. The Russian has texted the CEO a handful of times, mostly regarding takeout when they were at the office late. She was running out of options and hit call. The CEO picked up on the second ring. 

“Yelena,” she said slowly. “What’s wrong?” The blonde sighed and began to pace in front of your bathroom. 

“I’m in Y/n’s office and she had a panic attack and locked herself in the bathroom. I didn’t know who to call or what to do,” Yelena rattled off. Pepper was silent on the other end. 

“I’ll be right down,” she sighed in relief. 

“Thank you. I owe you one,” Pepper chuckled. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the CEO said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

*       

You were still on the floor, back against the wall, and knees to your chest. Everything you tried to calm your breathing down didn’t work and you felt yourself panic all over again. “Hey, it’s me,” you heard Pepper say. “Can you open the door for me?” You couldn’t move. “Or do you want me to use Tony’s spare key?”

“Key,” you said. The door unlocked and Pepper slowly opened it. You watched with tears in your eyes as she closed it behind her and sat down next to you. 

“When was the last time you washed this floor?” She joked. You laughed as the dam finally broke. “Come here,” she pulled in a side hug as you cried against her. 

“Is-is she mad at me?” You asked. 

“No, she’s just worried but we aren’t going to talk about that right now. I just need you to breathe.” You’ve been plagued by panic attacks all of your life and you were prescribed medication at 10 years old. Sometimes the pill didn’t help and your anxiety got the better of you. But this helped, being fully hugged by another person grounded you. You focused on the way Pepper slowed down her breathing and the scent of her floral perfume. “Tell me,” she finally said, drawing circles on your back. “What’s going through your head?” You let out a shaky breath. 

“I got caught up in work,” you told her. “And I missed a date with Yelena. I panicked.” 

“Why did you panic? Yelena told me you flinched when she raised her hands.” You did?

“I thought she was going to be mad at me,” you said slowly. Pepper pulled away from you to sit in front of you. She pulled your legs down so you could get more air in your lungs.

“Can you be honest with me for one question?” You nodded. “Did Wanda hit you?” Your eyes widened at the accusation. 

“What? No, never,” Pepper didn’t look convinced. “I promise. Sometimes she would get upset if she thought I was prioritizing work over our relationship. It was my fault,” you defended. “I should have done better. I should have been better.” Pepper sighed. 

“Honey, you and Tony are so much alike I have to remind myself you aren’t a full-blood Stark,” you smiled, wiping away some of your tears. “Do you know how many times he has missed a date because he was too busy? I’ll answer, a lot,” you chuckled. Half the time you were in the lab when Pepper came looking. She never got angry with him, a simple roll of her eyes and she asked what he was working on. You would order pizza or Chinese and the three of you would sit and talk and laugh. It was some of your favorite memories. “I knew he didn’t love me any less. His brain is just a little scattered just like yours.” That was an underestimate, you had so many thoughts and ideas running through your head it was a little overwhelming. “My guess is when you missed a date with Wanda you made it up to her an extravagant way the next day.” You nodded. 

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I just didn’t want her to be upset with me. I-” You cleared your throat. “I sometimes flinch when someone raises their voice or moves their hands quickly. I love my parents but they argued a lot.” 

“Have you told Yelena this?” You shook your head, looking down at your hands. “Why?”

“Wanda didn’t seem interested in helping me through it,” you shrugged. “I learned to manage it by myself.” Wanda was your first real girlfriend. You didn’t count quick flings in high school and college or random hookups here and there. You were too busy with work or school or managing your public image. 

“Look at me,” you did. She was pissed. You’ve seen her with this dark look in her eyes when she was speaking to Stark’s competitors or dealing with the press. “I need you to listen to me, okay?” You nodded. “Yelena is not Wanda and I know it’s gonna take time for you to trust her with this part of you but doesn’t seem better to have some help with this,” you nodded. It was lonely, swimming in the dark cavern looking for a way out. Pepper smiled. “Do you want to speak with Yelena?”

“Yes, please,” you were surprised that she was still here. “Thank you, Pepper. I appreciate it.” The CEO stood up and walked over to the door. 

“We are family, always have been, and always will be, got it?” You nodded. “Now follow up question, do you want me to kill Wanda?” Your jaw dropped but soon your laugh echoed against the bathroom walls. “I’m serious. I don’t care if she’s my sister-in-law or whatever.” 

“No need,” you smiled. “Besides I think that list is pretty long.” 

“Ain't that the truth,” Pepper winked at you before exiting that bathroom. 

The door wasn’t closed for long as it reopened and Yelena walked in, taking the spot where Pepper sat. “Hi baby,” you whispered, holding out your hand. She took it. “First, I’m sorry I hid from you. I was just scared and stressed with work. Second, thank you for calling Pepper.” She nodded as she stared at your connected hands. 

“What can I do to help?” She questioned. You raised your eyebrows in question. “Your panic attacks. What do you need?” Oh. Wanda never asked. “For me, I don’t like to be touched and the 5 senses counting down works best for me,” you frowned. 

“I don’t know you got panic attacks.” Yelena chuckled. 

“I bounced around Russian and American foster homes of course I have panic attacks.”

“Why haven’t you told me about them?”

“Why haven’t you told me about yours?” She countered. You sighed, looking away from her. “Not sure when the best time to talk about my past.” She squeezed your hand. 

“Wanda didn’t bother to help me,” you admitted. “So I’ve learned to keep it to myself.”

“Hey,” she said softly. You looked at her. “I’m not Wanda. I’m here for the good and the bad, okay?” You nodded. 

“Okay,” you whispered. 

*  

You were sitting on the couch while you listened to Sarah and Tony bicker back and forth. According to Maria, you were ahead of schedule so you had a few moments of peace before it got crazy again. “Knock, knock,” the door to your suite opened. Natasha walked in wearing a sage green dress.

“Looking good, Romanoff,” Tony whistled. The redhead rolled her eyes.

“You clean up nice, Stark,” she looked at you. “Can we talk?” You hated the way your stomach dropped.

“Yeah, of course,” you stood up and walked over to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you gave her a pointed look. “Okay, Yelena had a small panic attack and locked herself in the bathroom. She’s refusing to come out.”

“Take me to her.” You said to her without hesitation.

“I can’t,” she sighed. “She doesn’t want you to see her.”

“I can speak to her through the door,” you reasoned with her. “Natasha, please.”

“Come on,” Natasha gave in. You left your suite without a word to your bridal party and followed her to her room where Yelena was getting ready. You were grateful for Natasha. If it wasn’t for her gentle push you knew you would have danced around your feelings for her sister, too scared to mess up your friendship with her.

  *       

 “Just send it over to me,” you said, pacing behind your desk. “No, I trust you completely but you have your hands full and I can help,” the door to your office quietly opened. You smiled at your girlfriend and put your finger up to tell her you would be done in a minute. “Hope, I promise it’s not that big of a deal.” Yelena pushed your chair out of the way and sat on top of your desk. You smiled. “I know the next time I’m in California we'll get drinks. Give my love to Scott and Cassie. Bye,” you hung up. Yelena spread her legs to make space for you. You through your phone onto the chair and placed your hands on her thighs. “What are you doing, baby?” You asked. She placed her arms around your neck. 

“I was missing you,” you smirked. 

“You saw me at the all-company meeting.” She huffed. 

“Not the same and you know it,” she pouted. You chuckled, kissing her shoulder and up to her neck. She pulled you closer. 

“You can’t stay long,” you mumbled inches away from her lips. “I have a meeting with your sister.” The blonde rolled her eyes, groaning slightly. 

“Please never mention my sister and kiss me.” You obeyed because you could never deny her. You kept the kiss slow, not trusting yourself to get carried away. Yelena was intoxicating, that was the best way to describe her. You could get lost in the way she kissed and touched you. 

“Yelena,” you warned when you felt her tug your hair slightly. “We can’t do this here.” You wanted to push all your work off your desk and take her right here but you couldn’t. The morning wasn’t enough for you. 

“Your meeting with your Chief of Staff isn’t for another 45 minutes,” Yelena mumbled. “You can make me cum before then.” You groaned, resting your head on her shoulder. 

“Baby girl,” you whispered, kissing her neck. “You can’t say stuff like that.” You heard her breathing hitch when your lips grazed a sensitive spot on her neck. 

“Clocks a ticking, moya lyubov’ (my love),” the last of your restrain flew out of the window and you crashed your lips against hers. She smiled, grabbing onto you tightly as your fingers fiddled with the belt of her pants and unzipped the zipper. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” You asked, hands skimming underneath her shirt and goosebumps erupted on her skin. “It’s so hard to keep my hands off of you.”

“Pozhaluysta (please), don’t tease me.” You chuckled, nipping at the skin underneath her ear. You were careful to not leave any visible marks. 

“I got you, sweetheart,” you promised. “I’ll always have you.” You trailed your hand down her chest and trailed your finger underneath her pants, the door of your office opened. Yelena jumped, zipping up her pants. 

“Ugh,” Natasha groaned. “Not you two too,” she walked over to your desk with the paperwork for your meeting. “I already have to worry about walking in on Carol and Val.” Yelena burrowed her face in the crook of your neck unable to look at her sister. You chuckled. 

“Please, I’ve walked in on you and Bucky so many times,” Natasha smirked. 

“A little tip, lock the door,” she hit Yelena on the shoulder. “Come on sestra you can get laid on company time after our meeting.” You felt the blonde let out a small huff and jump off your desk, kissing you softly. Your girlfriend flipped her sister off before leaving your office and closed the door behind her. 

“Shut up,” you said, sitting down in your chair. 

“I have to go bleach my eyes after this meeting,” you rolled your eyes as Natasha sat down. But that smirk was still on her face. “Or drink it so I can forget the image of you having your hand down my sister’s pants.”

“My hand was not down her pants,” you deadpanned. Natasha glared at you. “Whatever, let’s get this meeting going.” Natasha chuckled. 

“Of course, someone has a meeting to have an orgasm.” 

*     

Natasha opened the door to the suite and it was empty of Yelena’s bridal party. She opened the closed door. “Thank you.”

“I’ll give you space. Call me if you need anything,” you nodded and walked over to the bathroom door, gently knocking on the door.

“Go away,” her voice shook. You fought every nerve in your body to break down the door and wrap her in your arms.

“Sweetheart, it’s me.” She was silent on the other side.

“You're not supposed to see me.” You smiled.

“I’m behind the door, my love. I can’t see you, I promise. Can you tell me what’s going on?” You could hear her breathing begin to pick up. “Hey, hey,” you cooed. “Count for me, baby. 5 things you can see.” You wondered if she heard you as she was so quiet.

“Natasha’s makeup bag, a hair dryer, my towel, Melina’s robe,” she laughed. “And a bottle of vodka Alexei left.” You laughed along with her. You loved Melina and Alexei, the odd couple who always made you laugh.

“Good job sweetheart. 4 things you can touch.”

“Bathroom mat, the door, the tile floor, and the silk of my robe.” You praised her each time she counted something in the bathroom that went along with her senses until her breathing slowed down. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this,” you shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. You sat down with your back against the door.

“Nonsense,” you said. “You will always be my number one priority. So why did you lock yourself in the bathroom?” You asked. You heard her sigh.

“People are going to be looking at me,” she finally said. You kept the snarky comment at bay; ‘Well it is your wedding.’ You knew there was more. “And I started to panic because what if I fall or mess up my vows or Alexei embarrasses me.” You smiled.

“Well, he’s already going to do that so that’s a given,” she chuckled. “Do you want to call off the wedding?” Yelena gasped.

“No, no. I think Natasha would kill me,” You knew she would never do that. “And I’m not doubting I want to marry you,” well that was a relief. “I just panicked.” You hummed. “You must think I’m stupid.”

“Never, baby, I understand anxiety better than most people. There are going to be a lot of eyes on both of us but do you know where my eyes will be?”

“Where?” Yelena questioned.

“On you. I don’t care about anybody else,” you truthfully said. “And you just have to keep your eyes on me. Nobody else matters,” she was quiet as you brought one leg up to your chest and chuckled. “Do you remember when I asked you to marry me?”

“Before or after I punched you,” she deadpanned. You laughed which caused Yelena to laugh along with you. You asked her to marry her on parent’s farm. She was in disbelief at the question her instinct was to punch you. It got a laugh out of everyone that was there to witness it but she said yes.

“Happiest day of my life,” you admitted. “Well, that is a lie, every day spent with is the happiest day of my life.”

“That was disgustingly cute,” you rolled your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smiled. “So are we going to get married today?” You heard rustling on the other side of the door, you figured she was standing up. You mirrored her actions. The clicking of the door unlocked and it opened slightly. She brought out her hand and you took it.

“See you are the alter,” you kissed her hand.

“See you there.”

*     

Oh, you were going to throw up. You wanted to take back everything you said. You were nervous as Maria kissed your cheek and Howard hugged you, and they left you at the altar. They took their seats next to the empty ones you left for your parents. Next was the wedding party and you felt Tony grab onto your shoulder. “You are going to cause an earthquake for how much you are shaking,” he mumbled. “Breathe.” You nodded as Cooper and Nate walked down the aisle followed by Lila and Morgan. The music changed, the crowd stood up, and there she was.

“Holy shit,” you said, smiling. You heard Tony and Pepper chuckle at your reaction. It was the first time you saw the dress. Yelena went dress shopping with Melina, Natasha, Laura, and Pepper when you were on a work trip. The dress had a lace top and the style hugged every curve. It had a beautiful train behind her. Every guest's eyes were on her, she was the star of the show but her green eyes were only on you. Alexei kissed Yelena on the top of her head when they stopped in front of you and he turned to face you.

“You hurt, my little girl, I will kill you,” he deadpanned but you saw the joke in his eyes. “I have the skills to do it.” You rolled your eyes at the man.

“Dad,” Yelena warned but Alexei ignored his daughter and hugged you tight.

“You are good for her,” he whispered. “You keep her heart good.” He let you go and joined Melina at his seat. You took her hands and smiled.

“Hi,” you said. “You didn’t fall.” Yelena chuckled softly.

“No,” she whispered. “My eyes were only on you.”

*     

With the ceremony over, changed into your reception suit, and a plate full of food, you made your way back to the sweetheart's table. You stopped as you saw Wanda walking with Carol. You knew she RSVP you still weren’t sure if she’d come. Placing your bowl of mac and cheese down and took a sip of your drink. Damn your wife for getting you addicted to the cheesy pasta. Wife. Yelena was your wife. You loved the sound of that. You walked over to your ex. To your surprise, she smiled when she saw you. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” You admitted.

“You are the one that invited me.”

“Well, you invited me to yours. I was just returning the favor,” You looked around the venue. “Where’s the hubby?” You questioned.

“Watching the twins,” you raised your eyebrow.

“He doesn’t like me very much does he?” You asked. She didn’t answer but her smile told you everything. There was a time you hated the man too but you learned to let that emotion go. It was better to move forward and not get stuck in the past.

“I wanted to apologize to you and at some point Yelena.” That was odd. “Natasha knocked some sense into me.” You chuckled. “So I’m sorry.” You crossed your arms.

“For what exactly?” There was a lot she needed to apologize and you wondered what she was going to pick. Wanda sighed.

“I have a lot to apologize for but I’m sorry for everything I said about you and Yelena. It was done in poor taste and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“I’m not giving it to you,” her face showed the shock she was in. “I don’t think you realize how damaging your actions and words hurt me and the person I love.”

“Why did you invite my family?” She asked.

“I could ask you the same question,” You moved to stand next to her to overlook the party. Yelena was doing a shot with Natasha, Bucky, and Alexei. She changed out of her wedding dress into a white jumpsuit. You loved the way she was smiling. “I don’t like how things ended between us,” you stated. “At one point you were my best friend but it got us to where we needed to be. You with Vision and me with Yelena. I guess it counts for something,” You looked at Wanda, who was frowning. “You aren’t happy with Vision, are you?” Wanda sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

“Not as happy as I thought I’d be.” You wondered what was going on behind closed doors. You hummed.

“Maybe that’s your problem, Wanda. The talent behind happiness is appreciating and liking what you have, instead of what you don’t have.” You walked over to Yelena, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Having fun?” You asked. She excitedly nodded her head.

“I beat Bucky at Pennies,” she said, smiling at you sheepishly. You squeezed her waist to get her to tell you what she was hiding. “You are going to need more mac and cheese, I ate yours.” You gasped.

“Baby!” You spun her around in your arms as she laughed. “We have an all-you-can-eat mac and cheese bar and you eat mine.” Her laughter continued as she rested her chin on your chest. “Why did you eat mine?”

“Because it was just sitting there and I like how you make yours and I couldn’t let it get cold so I ate it.” She giggled.

“God, I fucking love you,” you mumbled, kissing her.

“ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, moya zhena (I love you too, my wife)”

“Moya zhena (my wife),” you repeated and kissed her again.

_

Taglist: dogtamer415, justyourwritter69, marvelogic, upsidedowndanvers, theenglishswiftie, dark-hunter16, marvels--slut, janstevenswife, casquinhaa, marvelwomen-simp, dmenby3100, sleeperthelazy, rioheartz, mmmmokdok, wonrius, gemz5, ctrlamira, wandasmarley

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer II: Safe Haven · 01

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 5,3k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.), a/n: if you see any mistake, please, close your eyes,,

series masterlist

series summary: The ride was bumpy, but in the end, you got your husband. Your marriage gave you protection, and your new husband shared with you his life, his Family, his wealth. His demons and his enemies. Only time can show whether it was worth it.

Although his scent had managed to wash off, you loved walking around in that soft, far too large robe of his. Leaving the bedroom – where you hadn't even slept an hour together, let alone the whole night – you put one over your shoulders and tied the belt. And, as you do every morning, you went to the kitchen, which, in practice, was your shared kitchen; except that not at the same time. You prepared the coffee, and with a mug in your hand headed to the living room; you leaned against the entrance frame and fixed your gaze on the couch, or rather on the person occupying it – Jerry. This time you remembered the name. You lifted the mug to your mouth, but your lips did not come into contact with the bitter, hot surface of the drink. 

Was there any limit to the amount of time you could miss someone who, given the short period of knowing them, shouldn't mean that much? And what could you be capable of to drown that feeling of abandonment?

A little more than a week was still missing and you could safely cross out the third month of Bucky's absence. This was not how you imagined the beginnings of your marriage, but you consoled yourself with the knowledge that it could have been much worse. On the other hand, it could also have been much better. To some extent, your life resembled the one you had led before your marriage and even before your father's death – you didn't have to worry about business; it was secure and had regained its former fluidity. Enough to calm Tony Stark down. You were able to concentrate mainly on your gallery, spend weekends with your friends or with Suzie. Everything went on with the old rhythm, with a few exceptions. You didn't date anymore, and turning down potential lovers came more easily to you. And you devoted Sunday afternoons and evenings to your new family – Winnifred would invite you to tea or dinner, and these activities became your marital duties. But you really felt more like a new purchase of the Barnes Family than a wife to Bucky – after all, you spent more time with them than with your husband.

But he still tried.

He called at least once every two, sometimes three days. You would have loved to call him every day, but you never did – you didn't want to disturb him, because you knew he was working hard. You heard how tired he was, so each time you asked him to get some sleep; you kept telling him that your day wasn't that interesting. But Bucky never relented – he claimed he liked listening to your voice.

Jerry twitched, opening his eyes, which automatically fell on you. For a split second, he seemed deathly terrified; you guessed that his mind sensed your gaze, and raised the alarm as a result. But Jerry was safe. At least for now.

“Did you sleep well?” You smiled slightly, perhaps a little meanly, then took a sip of coffee without dropping your gaze.

The young man immediately sat up and rubbed his face. “Oh God…” he gasped. “Don't tell Bucky. He’ll fucking murder me.”

“Don't worry. It can happen to anyone.”

“Has it happened to someone before me..?” he asked with hope.

You wrinkled your nose and shook your head, which made Jerry groan with dissatisfaction.

“Would you like some breakfast?” You raised your eyebrows.

“After something like that? No way, I'm out of here.”

You walked Jerry to the door.

“Please. I'm begging,” he said, almost hanging on the doorknob. “Don't tell Bucky. Don't tell anyone, because it will definitely get to him.”

You sighed heavily, holding back from rolling your eyes. It seemed to you that Jerry was exaggerating, but on the other hand he was white as a sheet, so you didn’t want to scare him more. “I won't tell anyone. I promise.”

“What..?” Connie stared at you with curiosity, and the fork on which she had scrupulously scooped one of each ingredient of her salad hung not far from her mouth.

As befits a wealthy wife abandoned by a husband absorbed in work, you had a lunch date with Connie and your two other friends, Victoria and Holly, who were close enough to you to know some of your secrets. As in the case of Connie, you didn't share with them all the details of your life, you didn't get them into the business you did, but they knew who you were. They also knew the character of your marriage; it was impossible to keep it a mystery when matters of the heart were an integral part of your conversations. And even if you could pretend that you and Bucky had something more in common – something by which people usually decided to take such a binding step as marriage – your girlfriends would have figured you out right away.

“Who’s Jerry?” Holly furrowed. 

You couldn't remember if she was there when you mentioned him for the first time. However, you didn't have a chance to dig up this information in your head – Victoria rushed to explain: “He's some sort of bodyguard. Is that right?” She glanced at you, and you nodded.

Some sort of bodyguard was a surprisingly accurate term for Jerry and the rest of the boys. Since Bucky was away from home and unable to look after your safety himself, he ordered his men to do so. With that, you got to know a handful of Bucky's most trusted soldiers, and every evening one of them sat in a car parked outside your apartment, watching the building and its surroundings. Every morning one of them drove you to work, in the afternoons they escorted you home or wherever you pleased. You were never alone. Even now, sipping wine in a fancy pub, you were under the watchful eye of one of them; he was sitting a few tables away and going over the menu for the fifth time, glancing in your direction from time to time. He took a seat at the other end of the room to avoid being noticeable, but your friends were fully aware of his presence. Besides, they weren't the only ones; he was quite a flashy item in a restaurant filled mostly with women dressed in pastels and beiges.

“Are you still okay with that? All that following?” Holly continued. 

“They don’t follow me.” You rolled your eyes, smiling lightly. It's not that you had been brainwashed into accepting the possessiveness or the desire to control your every move; you just understood what rules applied to your and Bucky's world. You also understood that your friends were not as aware, so your husband's security measures may have been deceptively similar to red flags. “Following someone tends to be done in secret from the person who is being followed, you know?” 

“What's up with Jerry?” Connie interrupted. “Did you sleep with him or not?”

“No, of course not,” you calmly denied. But instead of continuing to speak, you paused for a moment – a memory popped into your head; a memory of Bucky's prettily pink, parted lips as he savored your wet warmth. You swallowed hard, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. “He slept. On the couch. Alone.”

“A bodyguard should sleep on the job..?” Holly asked doubtfully.

“In theory, no. But whenever I was able to forget Jerry's presence somewhere around, I heard sneezing or sniffling.” You raised your eyebrows. “I was afraid that if I left him in the car overnight, he would faint from a fever or something. I invited him inside, or rather convinced him to come in, and he fell asleep on the couch. That's it.” You shrugged.

“You shouldn't have done that,” Victoria said, her forehead creased in worry. “You shouldn't invite strangers into your apartment. What if he would hurt you?”

“Uh, that's not exactly what bodyguards do.”

The rest of your lunch followed the pattern repeated at every meeting you've had for almost the last three months. Your girlfriends expressed their concern toward your relationship, and then smoothly moved on to other topics. This time a party you had little idea about. Not because they didn't include you; you just didn't hear a word. Absorbed in your own thoughts, you completely disconnected yourself from the place and the company. You reflected on the fact that you spent far more time with them, and even with the previously mentioned bodyguards, than with Bucky. It shouldn't have affected you on the scale it actually did – you were purely business partners who happened to have sex a few times. But all those things you promised each other before he left... 

On the one hand, they were somehow groundbreaking. On the other, they became blurred in this long separation. Besides…

Your eyes involuntarily rested on your hand. Despite being married, you still didn't have rings. You wore at least an engagement ring – an apparent sign of being taken, but Bucky? You couldn't be sure – away from home, away from New York, away from you – he wasn't taking advantage of the lack of a wedding band. Maybe he only called you in the evenings, drained, because his other life was consuming all his time and energy? You knew he couldn't be so vile to you, but maybe he was trying to protect you? Had he found someone in Italy and didn't want to break your heart? Maybe the bodyguards were not there to protect you, but to keep you from any potential surprise visit?

A sudden flash of sanity made you realize that you were becoming paranoid. You didn't have Bucky around; you couldn't look at him or talk to him freely, so you kept thinking about him. This, in turn, led you to newer and newer conclusions that you wouldn't normally even consider. Timothy got his way – he effectively punished you, because you were going through a living hell.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You were so deep in your own thoughts that you didn't even know who had spoken to you. All three – Connie, Victoria and Holly – were looking at you.

“Hmm?” you muttered, raising your eyebrows questioningly, although you could hear perfectly well what they wanted to know. “Oh, it’s… It’s nothing.” You shook your head with the abashed smile of someone caught in the act. “It's just... I miss him. Very much,” you said in order to justify your drifting away. You just didn't tell the whole truth; you didn't intend to torment your friends with your fears, because these were taken from panic, not a rational perception of things. 

“Do you like him in that way?” Holly smiled provocatively. 

Before you could explain that you would probably miss each of them just as much during such a long separation, Victoria cut you off again: “This is so sweet…” She almost melted. “Maybe you're not telling us something? Maybe you are at the boyfriend-girlfriend phase? Things like this can happen when two people are close. Even in a not-for-real-marriage, right?” She looked around at your faces for some confirmation of her words.

“I would know if we were at that phase,” you said immediately. 

“Not necessarily. This phase is not always clear. Not all people ask directly about dating, like, you know, as a couple. Sometimes you just fall into it. Unconsciously and naturally.” Vicky shrugged.

A short silence settled over the table. You reached for your glass of wine, and, staring unseeingly at some random point, emptied the rest of the drink in slow sips.

“I'll see you this weekend?” you finally spoke.

“As always. But maybe you should invite Jerry this time?” Connie grinned with amusement, and you gently kicked her under the table.

“Are you okay?” Steve's voice filled the inside of the car.

“I won't throw up here, if that's what you're asking,” you answered, taking your eyes off the side window to look at him. Steve’s mouth curved into a slight smile. 

You doubted that picking you up from a nightclub was his ideal scenario for a Saturday night, but at least he didn't waste the whole evening babysitting you. Admittedly, he was up for it, but you managed to convince him to give you some freedom. You still didn't mind round-the-clock security, but you got the impression that your friends were starting to feel a little uncomfortable. You couldn't accept that they weren't able to relax and enjoy your girls’ night out, and if you had any power to do so, you decided to use it. In return, you promised Steve that – after the party – you would wait for him like a good girl you were, and let him drive you home without saying a word.

Your head was still buzzing from the pounding music and people shouting to each other, and you felt this unpleasant dry stickiness in your mouth. It wasn't the worst state you could get yourself into, because although you hoped to get rid of the annoying, uncomfortable thoughts, you didn't want to completely knock yourself out of consciousness.

You were haunted by the same problems; fueled by longing and the absence of Bucky, who could ease your doubts. Besides, for the past few days you couldn't push away what Victoria said – leaving aside your marriage, could you and Bucky have been more than that? Before he left, he behaved as if you were, but did he allow the possibility or did he do all this because he felt an obligation to act as a husband should? Moreover, you didn't even know why you felt the need to find out all this; after all, you weren't hoping for anything. Other than an inherent affection, a weakness, an incomprehensible attachment and a natural human desire, you had no deeper feelings for Bucky. So what was your problem?

Mindlessly, your eyes wandered to Steve again. Sometimes you would return in memories to Bucky's words; to the moment when he joked that he could recommend you to Steve – you wondered how your life would have turned out then. You would certainly have experienced a completely different dynamic, because while Bucky was patient with you, Steve exceeded all expectations. But unlike Bucky, he behaved a little too formally, politely in your company; as if he didn't allow himself to show any flaws. This, in turn, partly let you guess what Bucky meant when he said: ‘I'm not a guy you marry. Steve is.’ With the warmth, caring and calmness radiating from him, Steve was something of a last step – he just reassured you that he was the right, safe choice; that he would create a stable environment not only for his potential wife, but also for his children.

Bucky, on the other hand, oozed the aura of a charming, slightly unpredictable boyfriend; he made everything still exciting and fresh; he allowed the belief that you both still had enough room for mistakes.

You closed your eyes and let out a heavy breath. Steve glanced at you, raising his eyebrow questioningly. “Still not throwing up,” you stated. For a brief moment, you had an urge to bombard Steve with questions; you wanted to know if Bucky had ever been in a serious relationship; if he thought Bucky would last in one. But that would only deepen your paranoia; besides, you weren't convinced about the idea of getting to know Bucky through the eyes of others.

When the car stopped in front of the apartment building, you got out, grabbing your purse and the high heels you had taken off earlier. You intended to make your way to the apartment barefoot, because you couldn't even imagine putting on those uncomfortable shoes again.

“Oh, sorry. I left some glitter in your car,” you said, noticing shimmering specks from your dress on the seat. To be fair, you also had glitter in your hair and on your skin, so you thought you were equally victimized. “Well, a lot of glitter actually…” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Turning off the engine, Steve gave you a smile. 

“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” you asserted right away, seeing him getting ready to leave the vehicle. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. A security guard is sitting inside, there are also some cameras…” You shrugged. “I’ll be fine.” 

Steve didn't insist – he kept providing you with this illusory sense of freedom. So you said goodbye and headed to the entrance, having previously promised to text him as soon as you crossed the apartment threshold. Steve's car disappeared only when you got inside the building. On your way to the apartment, you were thinking mainly about the contents of the fridge; for the last few hours your stomach had been getting only alcohol and salty snacks in really small portions – so now you were craving something decent.

As you slid the key into the lock, it refused to turn – the door was open. A wave of uneasy heat immediately swept over you, your stomach dropped. For a second you wanted to go back downstairs; perhaps Steve wasn't so far away yet, you could call him and wait with the security guard. Or outside. Anywhere, but not there. At the same time, you tried to keep a cool head and think rationally – what if you simply forgot to lock the door? After all, such things could happen. But there was no room in your life for such incidents. Bucky had you watched for a reason. 

In the end, you decided to take possibly the stupidest, yet least dramatic step – you cautiously went inside. There was pitch darkness everywhere, which normally didn't scare you, but now you had no idea what was hiding in it. Too paralyzed by fear, you didn't even think to locate the light switch. You moved ahead – telling yourself repeatedly that it was probably just your paranoia, that you had actually forgotten to lock the door. If not, you had an open escape route – all you had to do was run down the corridor and get out of the apartment, then take the stairs, not the elevator.

Noticing a small red light smoldering in the darkness somewhere from the living room, you froze in stillness. Your body went numb, so unable to make any further movements, you stared at the spot. A recognizable rustling sound reached your ears, and immediately afterwards the vivid light of a lamp burst in the room, shining down on the silhouette sitting beneath it. Your tired, frightened, alcohol-soaked mind refused to believe that it was Bucky in the chair. Not only because, given the length of his absence, you hadn't considered his return in the nearest days – he also looked a little different than you remembered. The first thing that caught your eye was his thick beard; technically, it covered half of his face. Still, you could easily see his mouth stretched in a lazy, amused smile. His hair also got a little longer, and he looked even bigger, even more beefy, but these changes were not so drastic – you picked them up because you knew Bucky's body very well.

He let out a puff of smoke from between his lips, then put out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray placed on the armrest. “Hi,” Bucky spoke, his voice a bit muffled by the smoke coming out of his nostrils. 

All negative feelings and real concerns were gone, but your heart was still racing like crazy. However, you weren't sure if it was due to the fear slowly leaving your body or at the sight of Bucky. You wanted to feel happy; you wanted to be able to get excited about the much anticipated return; you wanted to throw your arms around his neck, but in reality you felt really weak – on the verge of passing out. You dropped your shoes and purse on the floor, and rested your trembling hand on the doorframe.

“I scared you, huh?” He slightly tilted his head to the side.

“Yes,” you replied quietly; your voice still didn't feel steady enough, and your throat remained painfully tight.

“Good. You'll remember to take someone with you next time.” Bucky sounded strict and lecturing; as if he was about to bend you over his knee. 

You watched each other – you looked at him a little warily, not sure where you were really at, what you should say or do, and Bucky was sizing you up in no rush; he studied closely your skimpy, not very covering dress with a deep neckline.

“Where were you?” There was no hint of possessiveness, jealousy or anger in his voice; only pure curiosity. Just as during your phone conversations over the past months, he wanted to know about your day; he wanted to know everything. He could have asked his people, but he trusted you to tell him the whole truth.

“At the club. With my girls.” 

“Were there any guys..?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off him. “As it is in clubs.” You shrugged. “Full of guys.”

“Poor fellas. Wish I could have seen their faces when they realized all they could do was look at the prettiest girl in all of New York.” Some boyish delight surfaced in his smile, and a pleasant warmth spread over your body. Why would he say all these things if there was any chasm between you? There was no chasm.

He didn't seem impatient, but watched you with gentle anticipation, and soon patted his thigh in an inviting manner. Without a second thought, you moved from your spot and finally straddled him. In all this longing, you forgot how good it felt to be surrounded by the warmth of his body, his scent; how much your body fitted into his, as his thighs felt like the most comfortable place in the world.

“I was kind of hoping you would be happy to see me.” Bucky winced barely noticeably. “Is this about me scaring you? I'm sorry,” he said with remorse, although just a moment earlier he was eager to teach you a lesson. He placed a tender kiss on your cleavage, and your skin burned in that spot. 

“I am happy,” you replied, smiling softly. You couldn't let him think otherwise. “I just-”

You wanted to confess all your fears to him, because you knew he would either confirm or get rid of them. But when Bucky lifted one of his hands to your face for a purpose you had no chance to know, your eyes caught the movement and registered something else. You quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand closer to get a good look at it. Bucky was wearing a wedding ring. And it appeared that he didn't put it on on the plane or right after he arrived; he must have already worn it in Italy, because when the ring slid a little higher, you noticed a pale, untouched by the sun mark that stood out on his tanned hand. 

“Got one for you, too.” Bucky smiled with satisfaction, but that gesture was sprinkled with a bit of caution. “And a few other things. But first, I'd rather hear what’s bothering you.”

You knew you should tell him; after all, a couple months earlier you yourself had made it clear to him that you needed to speak your minds more. But you didn't want to ruin the peaceful atmosphere. You were both too tired for this conversation. Besides, with or without explanations, you were no longer worried about your relationship – Bucky was here. Right by your side. And there was no sign that he was about to break your heart; unless he was about to crush it with affection.

“Nothing is bothering me,” you claimed with another tender smile, hoping that was enough to distract him from further attempts to get the truth out of you. “You surprised me. I thought I would be able to get ready for you coming, but instead, I'm a mess. A little bit drunk, sticky mess,” you said, which came easily, because you weren't actually lying; you imagined the conditions under which you would celebrate Bucky's return a little differently. Even with all your worries. “I thought it would be more, I don't know,” you shrugged, “perfect maybe..?”

Bucky seemed to accept this version. Perhaps because – considering his exhaustion – you produced far too many words for him to process. “The next time will be more perfect.” The smile lingering on his lips took on a lazy expression. 

You shook your head at his words. “There will be no next time, not in the near future,” you said with conviction, as if his unconventional schedule depended on you. “You're not going anywhere, because I'm not letting you.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “In that case, I can go out and come in again.”

“Alright, but you'll have to wait until I hang the banner and inflate balloons.” You raised your eyebrows. The lightness and playfulness surrounding you made you forget the past months. Your concerns and insecurities blurred in the way Bucky looked at you. “Now, show me what you brought me,” you added with theatrical excitement. 

“You little materialist…” Shaking his head with just as exaggerated disapproval, Bucky reached outside the chair and grabbed a paper bag. He placed it between your bodies, but you had no pressing need to look inside it. Instead, you watched Bucky almost with fascination; his movements as he slid his hand into the bag. When he pulled it out, his fingers were embracing a small, velour box. Having taken the object carefully, you opened it; the ring Bucky mentioned was waiting inside – a little narrower than the one he wore, but otherwise looked basically identical. “May I?” His gentle tone immediately caught your attention. Without thinking, you turned the box toward him; he pulled out the ring, grabbed your wrist gently to stabilize your hand, and slid the ring onto your finger. 

You stared at it, and when you lifted your gaze back to Bucky's face, you caught his eyes stuck on you. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

“It's just a little something I should have taken care of much sooner, huh?” he said, and the bag rustled again. Your lips parted in surprise and amazement when this time he took out a scented candle. He laughed softly as you grasped it right away, almost snatching it out of his hands; you guessed from its size and neat, minimalist label that it was one of the more expensive ones. 

“You remembered…” Still stunned that he had bought something with you in mind; something almost personalized, you glanced at him, but quickly returned your eyes to the tag. "Tuscan Dream of the Sun..." you read out loud, raising an eyebrow. You opened the lid and brought the candle to your nose.

“Is this how you imagined a Tuscan dream of the sun?” Bucky furrowed his forehead. In response, you moved the candle closer to his face. “I smelled it earlier,” he protested, nevertheless, he inhaled the scent instinctively. “I'm not sure what dreams of the sun smell like, but this smells like oranges. And vanilla.”

“Ohh, right,” you replied, enlightened by the answer you were looking for. “You're right…” You pulled the bag in your direction to put the candle back in it. In the process, you spotted another velour box. “Did you buy another ring? For your mistress?” you asked provocatively, but not angrily. 

“Mhm.” Bucky nodded with a sly, lazy smile resting on his lips. “You can take a peek. Tell if she will like it.” 

So you reached for the box – a little bigger, flatter than the previous one – and opened it. To your eyes appeared a necklace – a thin, delicate chain with a gemstone in a light, icy shade of blue. 

“And?” Bucky asked softly. “Does she like it?”

Without taking your gaze off the necklace, you nodded. “It's really pretty,” you answered in a hushed voice and looked at Bucky. “What's the occasion?”

“No occasion. It's just a gift. So I can keep an eye on you.” He shrugged gently, lifting the corner of his mouth in a not particularly enthusiastic expression. Only then did you realize what the color of the stone reminded you of – Bucky's irises.

For a brief moment he said nothing more, watching you put on the necklace; how you fastened it in front of your face and then turned the lock back, making the pendant rest on your neckline. 

“I'm sorry,” he spoke in a more serious tone. His hand slid over your bare calf, and combined with the contrite, even pained expression on his face, the gesture seemed extremely tender to you. “For not being here. You agreed to marry me, and then I left you alone. For so fucking long-”

“Hey.” You put your hands on his cheeks, casting a determined look on his helpless eyes. “You had no choice. Okay?” In response, Bucky nodded barely noticeably. “It was hard for me, that's true. But the fault doesn't lie with you. It never even crossed my mind,” you stated firmly. You chose to ignore the fact that a bunch of other, more or less disturbing things popped into your head while he was gone. “And I'm not saying this because I'm your wife, and it's my job to support your every decision. I'm saying this because you didn't do anything wrong. I'm saying it because I understand.”

He turned his gaze away and chewed on his bottom lip nervously. There was still a look of worry on his face telling you that Bucky didn't quite believe your words. He was completely different when you found him in the apartment, and you didn't know what had happened during those several minutes. Maybe he remembered all the responsibility and effort that comes with being a husband? Whatever it was, it spread in his mind like a poison you didn't know the cure for. You couldn't get into his mind, and he didn't want to make his thoughts available to you in any other way. Or, perhaps, after all, he sensed that there was something you didn't want to tell him, and he returned the favor?

Despite your slight resignation, you plastered a weak smile on your face and tucked a strand of Bucky's hair behind his ear. He closed his eyes, accepting this tender gesture; absorbing its warmth. “You’re tired,” you remarked. “You should go to bed-” You rose gently with the intention of getting off his thighs, but Bucky's hands quickly found their way to your hips; he held you down, pressing you back against his body. He gazed at you again, a little calmer this time, and with a visible exhaustion that you were absolutely right about. 

He reached up to touch your cheek, his fingers slipped into your hair. He pulled you in carefully, then pressed your lips together in a delicate kiss; as if testing whether you still accepted his mouth on yours. When, without much thought, you welcomed and reciprocated the kiss, he slipped his tongue into your mouth – he remembered your taste, and when he realized how much he loved it, he let out a low grunt. Pleasant warmth spread throughout your body in a devastating wave – it almost completely washed away any barriers.

He soon pulled away from you. “You are tired, too. And a little drunk, right?” He asked, studying your face intently. 

You nodded, not intending to deny it. Bucky drew you to him again; this time he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. You dropped your eyelids, feeling a peace spreading throughout you. He may not have been your boyfriend, or your not-for-real-husband, but he was your home, your safe haven.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine @pattiemac1 @marvel-fandom23 @rabbitrabbit12321 @xsecretsirenx @heyyitsreign @xhollycowx @samfreakingwinchester @thrnlvr @samjuarezzz @loustan90 @kandis-mom @abaker74 @gabshouse @casa-boiardi @globetrotter28 @fand0mskullfa1ry @iateall-yourcookies @swordofawriter @theroyalmanatee @midnightvitality

[monstersdownthepath]

Herald of Zon-Kuthon: The Prince in Chains

CR 15

Lawful Evil Huge Outsider

Inner Sea Gods, pg. 314

A great many Heralds in Pathfinder have backstories that are only alluded to, while many have no backstory and were simply woven into life by their god. Some are lucky enough to have entire histories explaining their origin and ascension to status of Herald, but to call the Prince in Chains "lucky" would be a grave and insulting mistake. There are few beings in creation quite as pitiable as the Herald of Zon-Kuthon the Midnight Lord, the Prince beginning his existence as a powerful and free spirit wolf filled with boundless love for song and life, and if you read that sentence and then flick your scroll wheel up a little bit, you can probably see where this story is going. But rest assured: It gets so much worse.

You see, the artist-that-would-come-to-be-known-as-Prince was once called Thron, and Thron loved nothing more than frolicking along Golarion, siring countless spirits of art and beauty in his wake with his many lovers. Two of those spirits would eventually come to be known as Shelyn and Dou-Bral. Yes, this unfortunate beast was Dou-Bral's father, who eagerly awaited his son's return from the far reaches of space, and ran up to greet Dou-Bral Zon-Kuthon when he finally came home. The feeling of relief and happiness upon seeing a beloved family member was not mutual, and the Midnight Lord swiftly bound his former father in razor-sharp chains, spending the next several centuries slowly, carefully, meticulously destroying everything about Thron and leaving behind nothing but a roiling nexus of hatred and pain with no memory of the ball of sunshine and song he once was.

It's easy to feel sorry for the Prince in Chains, but don't let what he was distract you from what he is now. He is among the most powerful of the Heralds, and instrument created to inflict as much pain and misery on as many people as he possibly can, and is used by Zon-Kuthon to hunt down, torture, and sometimes provide the mercy of death to those who displease him. When left bereft of orders, the Prince lazily wanders the twisted halls of Xovaikain, Zon's primary base of operations, searching for any creature in need of either enlightenment or motivation, both of which are provided via the same method and medium: chains, teeth, and powerful spells cast upon screaming flesh.

Unlike with many Heralds who may be focused on a mission and thus unwilling to pause it to roll initiative, a party of adventurers encountering the Prince in any environment is unlikely to resolve the meeting peacefully, as it relishes any opportunity to spread pain, even to innocents. Even fervent followers of Zon-Kuthon are likely to be 'tested' or 'blessed' by the Prince in a way that leaves them on the verge of death, with the rest of the party not being anywhere remotely as lucky. So let's see just what an unlucky party is up against should they hear the howl of the Prince in Chains...

Well, first of all, you're not going to get accurate stats from the Archives of Nethys. For whatever reason, the AoN still has the Prince's stats from the 3.5 version that appeared in Curse of the Crimson Throne instead of updating it to its modern portrayal in Inner Sea Gods, a source of infinite frustration for me because it means I need to keep the book open to constantly look back and forth! Ugh! I wouldn't be complaining so much if the differences between its 3.5 version and proper PF version were bigger, but unlike many other Heralds who were powered down in order to fit properly into ISG, the Prince actually got more powerful.

The biggest and most obvious jump in strength comes from looking at the Prince's melee attacks: a bite and two lashing metal tentacles. The Prince's bite is a terribly powerful strike dealing 6d6+9 damage before making an automatic trip attempt against the target, while the tentacles deal 3d6+4 damage per strike, giving the Prince one of the highest damage potentials among the Heralds. Adding onto it is Vicious Critical, turning all confirmed critical hits into an additional 2 Constitution damage as the savage attack rips away at the target's flesh; there is a small mercy in that none of his attacks have an augmented critical hit range, nor does he have Improved Critical, meaning Vicious Critical is only likely to happen once or twice in a given fight.

Unfortunately, that's the only part of the Prince's kit likely to not affect a given battle. The rest of it is geared to take as many player options away as possible, with both his unique abilities AND his list of spell-likes each capable of crippling or killing the party in unique and terrible ways. When he tires of a specific creature or find them annoying, he can use Slay Living 1/day to blast 12d6+15 health out of any creature within his 10ft space/10ft reach. With a similar amount of dismissal, his 1/day Blasphemy is likely to be used to clear out the chaff than to as an actual offensive option, the single word ending the lives of any creature not worth the Herald's time and leaving behind only those who'd survive his twisted "affections" for more than a few seconds. At 3/day he has Bestow Curse and Blindness/Deafness in case his Eyebite and Crushing Despair fail to significantly impact his foes, and an emergency toolkit in the form of Shadow Conjuration to either create disposable minions or raise illusory impediments to hopefully make enemies hesitate approaching... or escaping.

No, the Prince doesn't want anyone to escape the torment he wants to share. Any creature that meets his Unnerving Gaze is staggered if they fail a DC 22 Will save, preventing them from easily running away or fighting back, and further complicating that is his terrifying Chainstorm, a 15ft sphere of whirling chains and strips of spine-covered flesh that automatically deals 1d12 damage to any creature starting their turn in it. Failing a DC 22 Reflex save allows the chains to dig into the victims' flesh, entangling AND anchoring them to the Prince, leaving them open to being torn apart by his teeth or spells.

The Prince in Chains is almost all offense, prompted to get right into the middle of an enemy team and begin ripping into them, and he is rewarded for doing so. He is immune to both critical hits and Sneak Attack damage, denying most bursts of damage from weapon attacks. He is protected by DR 15 which requires only a Good-aligned weapon to bypass, though his unique Exaction ability heals him 10 HP at the end of any turn he managed to damage anything. Notably, this ability is indiscriminate and doesn't specifically state he needed to damage a creature, so a DM going by Rules-As-Written basically allows the Prince to have Fast Healing 10 so long as he takes a moment each round to stomp particularly hard onto a floor or walk into a swarm of flies, and cathartically ripping apart some furniture (or particularly resilient dog toy courtesy of Zon-Kuthon) after battle lets him rapidly heal to full.

Thankfully, his physical resistance just barely hides a vulnerability to magic. Only Cold stands out as his true immunity to magical damage, and he is just as vulnerable to any Save or Suck effect as any other Herald, provided the effect can pierce both 27 SR and his +17/+12/+8 saves (look at that pathetic Will save!). You know, provided he hasn't used Greater Invisibility (3/day) to tiptoe into melee and trap the casters in his reach and follow it up with a walloping against everyone's flat-footed AC, or used his at-will Deeper Darkness on his own space to prevent line-of-sight from being drawn. He doesn't have See in Darkness, but with Scent and 60ft of Blindsight, he can track foes shrouded in the darkness just fine.

The final trick the Prince has, however, is both offensive and defensive, serving just as well to shield him from harm and harm others at the same time: Howl of Despair. This incredibly dangerous ability can be used every 1d4 rounds as a standard action, blasting every non-Evil creature within 60ft of it with 6d6 points of Sonic damage if they can't succeed a DC 22 Will save... but the damage isn't the important part! The important part is that a single use of this ability at the start of the encounter, before anyone can move away from the Prince when he pops into melee distance with everyone, can spell the doom of any party member within 10ft. Any creature within that distance who fails the save against the damage is rendered permanently insane, forcing them to lash out randomly at their allies, attack themselves with their own weapons, or otherwise waste half of their turns until the condition can be cured.

The cruelty of this ability comes from trying to cure the ailment in combat, as the Prince can simply re-apply it when the ability comes back off cooldown (provided the victim fails their Will save again), as there's no 24-hour immunity clause. This essentially means all the melee fighters will be at an enormous disadvantage for the entirety of the fight, being entangled, insane, and almost constantly prone. Possibly even cursed, blinded, and/or deafened! And the Prince is both swift (40ft) and can fly (50ft), so even keeping your distance to pelt it from afar is frustrating! Fitting that fighting the Herald of the God of Pain is so agonizing, really.

You can read more about him here, but the AoN has not updated the Prince's statblock from his 3.5 version.

[naomeii]

I have an angst to fluff request that's pretty long so I apologize.

Zhongli with a human reader who's his former blacksmith back when he was still an archon. The girl was young but her skills in creating weapons were immaculate so her elder sister sent (more like forced) her to assist him.

Unfortunately, Zhongli was very cold and harsh towards reader even when she tried her best to assist him in any way she can, which caused her to distance herself from him.

The relationship between them ended when she found out that Zhongli kept her sister's murder of her mother, best friend and her (the friend's) husband a secret from her (this was after she killed her sister). Exhausted and furious, she tears into Zhongli who tells her that her friends needed to die in order for her to mature. This angers her even more as she destroys the spear she made for him and leaves.

Sometime during the Archon war, reader ended up getting cursed with longevity during a fight with a god. Many, including Zhongli, thought she had died but unbeknownst to them, she was wandering Tevyat under different aliases.

The two meet again after 500 years when the ex-archon finds her in Liyue. Unsurprisingly, she treats him coldly which upsets him.

The two finally reconcile after reader is saved by Zhongli after nearly dying. When she accuses him of only saving her life just to make himself feel better and tells him he should've just let her die because she's useless to him anyways, this breaks his heart. It's his fault she hates him. It was because if him she lost her loved ones. He breaks down in tears as he apologizes to her for his cruel actions which causes her to cry as well and forgive him. As the two lay in bed together while in each other's arms, the silence that was once sullen was now peaceful and welcoming.

Renewed Souls.

—Pairings: Zhongli x F!Reader

Content : Suicidal themes, character deaths, Angst to Fluff.

The cavernous echoes of the smithy resonated with the rhythmic clanging of metal. Young (Y/n), a skilled blacksmith, meticulously forged weapons under the watchful eye of Morax, the Geo Archon. Her elder sister had insisted that she assist him, hoping to further her skills and gain favour with the powerful deity.

Morax, however, was a stern and cold taskmaster. He rarely acknowledged her efforts, and when he did, it was often accompanied by a disapproving scowl. Despite her earnest attempts to please him, (Y/n) found herself on the receiving end of his harsh criticism.

One day, as she carefully handed him a newly crafted spear, Morax's expression remained indifferent. "Mediocre at best," he remarked coldly. "You still have much to learn."

(Y/n) bit her lip, suppressing the frustration that threatened to boil over. She had poured her heart and soul into her craft, only to be met with relentless criticism.

Weeks turned into months, and the tension between them only grew. Morax's stoic demeanor never wavered, and (Y/n) began to distance herself emotionally from the callous Archon.

The breaking point came when (Y/n) discovered the painful truth about her family's demise. In a fit of rage, she confronted Morax, her eyes blazing with fury. "You knew!" she accused, tears streaming down her face. "You knew what happened to my mother, my best friend, and her husband, and you kept it from me!"

Morax's gaze remained unwavering, his voice steady. "Their deaths were a necessary sacrifice. A step on the path to maturity."

Enraged, (Y/n) couldn't contain her emotions any longer. "Sacrifice? Is that what you call it?" She tore into him, expressing the anguish that had festered within her. "You played puppet master with my life, and for what? To mold me into your idea of a mature servant?"

Her hands trembled as she clutched the spear she had painstakingly crafted for Morax. "I won't be a part of this any longer!" With a swift and powerful motion, she shattered the weapon against the cold stone floor.

The once-immaculate spear now lay broken, mirroring the fractured relationship between the blacksmith and the Geo Archon. (Y/n) turned on her heel, leaving the workshop and Morax behind.

Morax just stood there, like a statue, watching (Y/n) storm out of the workshop. His expression remained unmoved, but a flicker of something, perhaps regret, crossed his eyes. He didn't bother to chase after her or offer any words of consolation.

As the door swung shut, Morax was left alone amidst the remnants of shattered metal and fractured trust. The weight of his decisions hung in the air, and for a moment, the stoic facade he always wore seemed to crack ever so slightly. Yet, he made no move to follow her, letting her footsteps fade into the distance.

The workshop, once filled with the sounds of creation, now echoed with the haunting silence of a connection irreparably broken. Morax, the Geo Archon, remained alone, surrounded by the wreckage of a bond he had callously allowed to unravel.

The chaos of the Archon War had gripped Teyvat, and (Y/n) found herself caught in the crossfire during a skirmish with a vengeful god. In the midst of the battle, a malevolent curse was cast upon her, a dark magic that twisted the fabric of time and granted her an unintended boon—immortality.

As the curse took hold, (Y/n) felt a surge of power coursing through her veins, but it came at a cost. The battle raged on, and the once-familiar faces of her comrades blurred into a chaotic maelstrom. Morax, witnessing the apparent demise of his former blacksmith, felt a pang of regret deep within.

In the midst of the chaos, (Y/n) was enveloped in an ethereal glow, her form disappearing from the battlefield. The onlookers, including Morax, believed her to be lost to the cruel grip of the war. Unbeknownst to them, (Y/n) was trapped in a strange state between life and death, her consciousness suspended in an eternal limbo.

The first time she awoke, disoriented and alone, she realized that her surroundings had changed. Teyvat looked both familiar and alien, the passage of time evident in the shifting landscapes. (Y/n) moved through the ages under different aliases, trying to make sense of her cursed existence.

In one era, she roamed as a wandering scholar, sharing her knowledge with those she encountered. In another, she assumed the guise of a skilled artisan, creating masterpieces that would be remembered for centuries. The people she met came and went, their lives fleeting in comparison to her perpetual existence.

Through the ages, Morax continued to mourn the loss of (Y/n), unaware that she still existed in the shadows, watching the world evolve without her. The once-mighty Archon became more introspective, haunted by the memories of the blacksmith he had pushed away during the earlier days of the war.

(Y/n) continued to wander Teyvat, her heart heavy with the weight of the curse that bound her to an unending journey. The war raged on, gods clashed, and nations rose and fell, all while she remained an unseen observer, cursed to witness the passage of time without truly living.

The market in Liyue hummed with activity as (Y/n), now cloaked in a hooded robe, moved through the crowd. Her physical appearance had remained remarkably unchanged over the centuries, but the passage of time had etched a rugged resilience into her features. Her eyes, however, retained a sharpness that betrayed the wisdom and weariness of her immortal existence.

Zhongli, the ex-Archon once known as Morax, had been quietly observing the market, as was his habit in the mortal realm. His keen gaze caught a glimpse of (Y/n) amidst the throng, and for a moment, his heart skipped a beat. He couldn't believe his eyes—could it really be her after all these years?

With a newfound determination, Zhongli trailed her through the market, weaving through the lively vendors and animated chatter. As he approached, (Y/n) couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Her senses, honed by centuries of survival, detected the persistent presence behind her.

Finally, Zhongli caught up, his voice carrying a mix of uncertainty and hope. "Excuse me, miss. Might I have a moment of your time?" he inquired, his tone gentle.

(Y/n) stiffened, recognising the voice that echoed from a distant past. She turned to face him, her hood casting shadows over her features. "I have no time for idle chatter," she replied coldly, her eyes narrowing.

Zhongli persisted, determined to bridge the gap that had grown between them over centuries. "I sense a familiarity in your aura. Have we met before?"

(Y/n) scoffed, her patience wearing thin. "I've met many in my long existence. Your attempts at recognition are futile. Now, leave me be."

Zhongli, undeterred, continued to follow her, his gaze filled with a quiet desperation. He couldn't shake the feeling that she held the key to a past he had long buried. As they neared the Wangshu Inn, (Y/n) sought refuge within its walls, hoping to escape the persistent presence behind her.

Days passed, and Zhongli lingered outside the inn, compelled by an unspoken connection that transcended time. Eventually, he approached her again, hoping for a chance to mend the fractures that had widened between them.

"(Y/n)," he began, using her name from a time when they were closer. "I know you recognize me. Please, let me explain."

(Y/n), her patience exhausted, turned to face him one final time. "Explain? What's there to explain, Morax? You abandoned your godhood, changed your name, and left everything behind. Why should I care about the reasons now? You mean nothing to me."

Zhongli took a breath, ready to speak, but before he could utter a single word, (Y/n) cut him off with a cold and resolute tone.

"I'm not here for apologies, Morax," she interrupted, her gaze unwavering. "I'm here for supplies, nothing more. Once I'm done, I'll be on my way. Don't bother following me or trying to explain. There's nothing left to say."

Zhongli, though pained by her harsh words, nodded in silent acknowledgment. He watched as (Y/n) disappeared into the bustling inn, her figure framed by the doorway. The weight of centuries lingered in the air, and Zhongli remained outside, grappling with the consequences of choices made long ago.

Once alone in the quiet confines of her room at the Wangshu Inn, (Y/n) finally allowed the facade of strength to crumble. The weight of centuries pressed down on her, and the pain she had endured for so long spilled over. The tears, held back for centuries, now flowed freely, each drop carrying the anguish of a life that seemed unending.

She sank to her knees, the room silent except for the soft sobs that wracked her body. The weight of loss, betrayal, and the relentless march of time bore down on her, and for a moment, the eternal wanderer felt the crushing weight of her existence.

"I can't take it anymore," she whispered to the empty room, her voice barely audible through the tears. "I just want it to end."

The memories of her mother, her dear friend, and the life that had been stolen from her replayed in her mind like a haunting melody. The curse of immortality, once a twisted gift, now felt like an unbearable burden.

As the pain intensified, (Y/n) wished for an end to the ceaseless journey, a respite from the loneliness that had become her constant companion. Her cries echoed in the solitude of the room, a desperate plea to a world that seemed indifferent to her suffering.

In the midst of her despair, (Y/n) yearned for reconciliation with those she had lost. The ache for the warmth of a mother's embrace and the laughter of a dear friend intensified. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison echoing with the tormented cries of a soul burdened by the weight of time.

The next day dawned, and (Y/n) moved through the city as if the emotional tempest of the previous night had never occurred. It was her last day in Liyue, and she wandered to a nearby hill, a silent witness to her internal turmoil.

As she stood on the precipice, contemplating the abyss below, the wind whispered tales of countless moments lost to time. In a moment of despair, she let herself fall, surrendering to the void that beckoned. However, just as the precipice became an inevitability, a strong hand gripped her wrist, halting her descent.

Startled, (Y/n) looked up to see Zhongli, his expression a mix of concern and desperation. Accusations formed on her lips, and she spat them out with venom.

"You saved me just to make yourself feel better, didn't you?" she accused, her eyes reflecting the pain that lingered from centuries past. "You should've just let me die. I'm useless to you, just like back then."

Zhongli's grip tightened, but not in restraint. It was a desperate attempt to anchor her to the present. "No, (Y/n), it's not like that. I never meant—"

"Meant? You never appreciated anything I did. You hid the truth about the demise of my loved one just in the name of 'maturity'!" Her words cut through the air, a bitter reminder of the scars he had left on her soul.

Zhongli's eyes welled with tears, the weight of his past actions crashing down on him. "I… I'm sorry," he choked out, the words heavy with regret.

Her anger gave way to a profound sadness, and she felt the tears welling up again. "You should've just let me die in peace," she whispered, her voice a fragile echo of the pain etched into her being.

Zhongli's facade crumbled, and tears streamed down his face. "I never should've treated you that way. It's my fault you hate me. My fault you went through so muc."

As the truth hung heavy in the air, (Y/n) felt a profound exhaustion. The anger, the pain, the centuries of carrying the weight of betrayal—it all seemed too much. Zhongli fell to his knees beside her, reaching out to her in a desperate plea for forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, his voice breaking. "I never realized the pain I caused you."

(Y/n) hesitated, her heart torn between the desire for retribution and the weariness of carrying the burden of hatred. Finally, she sighed, the weight of centuries evident in her eyes.

"I'm tired," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. As she finally leaned on him, Zhongli wrapped his arms around her, offering the solace of a shared pain.

"I know, (Y/n)," he murmured, his own tears mingling with hers. "I know."

Days turned into nights, and (Y/n) found herself lingering in Liyue, the city that had been both the stage for her past pain and the unexpected chapter of reconciliation. The wounds of centuries slowly began to heal, stitched together by a newfound understanding and a shared vulnerability.

One evening, as the moon cast a gentle glow through the window, (Y/n) and Zhongli lay side by side, their bodies close yet hearts still mending. The silence that had once been sullen and heavy was now transformed into a peaceful and welcoming embrace.

Zhongli spoke first, his voice carrying the weight of remorse and sincerity. "I never imagined it would come to this," he admitted, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her hand.

(Y/n) sighed, her eyes fixed on the moonlit sky beyond the window. "Neither did I. Centuries of pain and resentment, and now... it feels like a weight has been lifted."

Zhongli nodded, his gaze lingering on her. "I never wanted to be the cause of your suffering. I can't change the past, but I can be better in the present."

(Y/n) turned to face him, her eyes meeting his with a mix of vulnerability and forgiveness. "Maybe we can find a way to move forward together. A new beginning, of sorts."

[boombox-fuckboy]

Hey!!! You commented on my post about limetown haha which is why I’m here. You offered to give podcast recs! What are your favorites?? I’m looking for some new ones

I completely forgot I had this ask, excuse the delay. Here's a selection of 30 podcasts I enjoyed from a broad range of genres: hopefully at least one appeals.

Let me know if you're after something more specific.

Arden: (Investigative, Comedy) On the 25th of December, 2007, heiress and young actress Julie Capsom crashed her car into a tree and fled into a nearby forest clearing, leaving a trail that seemingly vanished into thin air, and a dismembered torso in the trunk. A decade later, Bea, the first reporter on the scene, and Brenda, a detective on the case, are hosting a true crime podcast about it, and neither is remotely impressed with what the other has to say. Arden is also a retelling of various Shakespeare plays.

Desperado: (Supernatural, Adventure, Horror Elements) In a modern world of gods and magic, three young people, all under the patronage of death dieties, embark on the same adventure for different reasons: for safety, for revenge, and to kill The Old Man in the Sky. Fantastic banter and killer action sequences.

The Far Meridian: (Magical Realism) An agoraphobic young woman wakes one day to discover her lighthouse home has travelled to somewhere entirely unfamilar. As this continues to happen day after day, she uses the opportunity to search for her missing brother. A really unique and charming piece of fiction.

Gastronaut: (Sci-Fi) Interstellar travel audio blog of a former food critic as he travels to an active warzone to get firsthand experience with unfamilar cuisine. ft. Disgruntled martian nobility, sinister businessmen, explosive mushrooms, forbidden snacks, rogue revolutionary artists, and the consequences of your actions.

Girl in Space: (Sci-Fi) The Girl In Space lives alone on a space station, doing science, making cheese, rewatching Jurassic Park, and tending to the plants, animals, and artificial sun entrusted to her. It's a little lonely, but not a bad life. Would be a shame if someone came along to ruin it.

The Goblet Wire: (Microfiction, Weird Fiction) A surreal microfiction with horror elements, taking the form of phone calls to an audio-based game in which the voice of the mysterious Dictator leads each player through fantastic and horrific world and story.

Hello From The Hallowoods: (Horror, Supernatural) A dramatic entity beyond your comprehension visits your nightmares to tell stories of the people (in varying degrees of human and alive) that inhabit the strange, deadly, and beautiful Hallowoods, as they find meaning and sometimes eachother.

Hi Nay: (Supernatural Horror) A year after moving to Toronto, sound designer Mari finds herself drawn into helping people around the city with various horrific supernatural encounters due to her babaylan (shaman) family background. It quickly becomes apparent that there's something much more sinister and complicated happening in the background.

Inco: (Microfiction, Sci-Fi) A perpetually exausted interstellar information trader and her peppy AI find a mysterious (read: bratty) boy floating in space and are inadventently pulled into a world political intrigue.

Inn Between: (Fantasy) Ever curious about what the D&D characters get up to at the tavern between sessions? A generally lighter-hearted (with some exceptions) with richly-written and always-growing characters. A really interesting format, too: a lot of the adventure appears in the "next time" and "last time" segments which makes it all flow really nicely. Not a tabletop podcast.

Janus Descending: (Sci-Fi, Horror, Tragedy) A xenoarcheologist and a xenopaleontologist are sent to a study a dead city on a distant world. Nobody likes what they find there. A unique format, with one set of logs presented first to last, and the other last to first. I'd recommend listening to the supercut for this one.

The Kingmaker Histories: (Steampunk, Weird Fiction, Adventure, Fantasy Elements) In the Valorian Socialist Republic 1911, on her 25th birthday, tailor's apprentice Colette experienced the worst headache of her life. As a result, she fleed from town with a human artificer and a fae chef - both now smugglers - pursued by an utterly furious flesh-crafter. I'm not sure I'm selling how good this podcast is but it's very good.

Life With Althaar: (Sci-Fi, Comedy) A human repairman moves to a space station on the edge of human territory that is perpetually on the edge of self-destruction, and ends up with a less-than-ideal last-minute roomate. Althaar is polite, friendly, deeply interested in human culture, and eager to be friends. Unfortunately he belongs to a species that sends humans into a visceral panic at a glance.

Lost Terminal: (Sci-Fi, Hopepunk) Seth is a very lonely AI living on a satellite. His crew were left stranded aboard with no hope of return, and it's been longer than he can count since then. The Earth below him has changed dramatically, and with only a few other AI down there to talk to, he's very lonely. But! He has a plan to make some new friends.

Love and Luck: (Romance, Slice-of-Life and Urban Fantasy Elements) Voice messages cataloguing two young men falling in love and opening a queer dry bar together.

Midnight Radio: (Light Supernatural, Romance) Sybil McIntyre, host of the ever-popular 1950's nightly radio hour, begins exchanging letters with an old fan who has reluctantly returned to visit Sybil's beloved town.

Midst: (Weird Fiction, Western, Sci-Fi and Fantasy Elements) The old-western planetoid islet of Midst floats, rotating steadily, in a sea of reality-warping darkness. Down in the town of Stationary Hill, things are in movement, and vistors from the light above are about to bring unanticipated change. ft a monocycle-riding monster-hunter, radio-famous airship paladins, deadly mica, the universe's peppiest cultist, good dogs, and a really strange businessman.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality: (Weird Fiction, Supernatural, Urban Fantasy and Horror Elements) A friendly AI tour guide leads you on a tour of the Mistholme Museum, explaining the strange and often alternatural story behind each item.

Monstrous Agonies: (Supernatural, Relationship Advice) An interpersonal advice show for supernatural entities and other people living liminally in the modern world.

Night Shift: (Urban Fantasy, Investigative) Set in a modern world with the addition of magic, which manifests in small inherited skills/traits, can warp people in horrific ways, or can be manipulated with the right science (and intense work) to induce superpowers. Sebastian Fenn is a barista at Night Shift Coffee, but since things are slow he's decided to start a podcast to talk about various mysteries, crimes and conspiracies around the city, and of course finds himself deeper in them than he'd intended.

The Pasithea Powder: (Sci-Fi, Thriller Elements? I think?) The last major interplanetary war was full of atrocities, but none more infamous then the creation of Pasithea Powder, a memory altering drug which was used to horrible effect and landed it's entire team of creators in prison. So when decorated war hero Captain Sophie Green sees one of them wandering free, worlds away from his prison, she gets in touch with a very old, estranged friend: one Dr. Jane Gonzalez, who's behind bars for the very same reason.

SCP: Find Us Alive: (Weird Fiction, Supernatural, Horror and Slice-of-Life elements) You don't need to know anything about SCP to enjoy this. A research team gets trapped in an underground research facility when the complex collapses and the building is dragged into a pocket dimension. The tear it was designed to study begins creating tiny copies of itself, generating strange entities the team needs to deal with. And as if that wasn't enough, the entire situation physically resets itself every 30 days. And yet, this is genuinely also an office comedy.

Second Star to the Left: (Sci-Fi) Audio logs of a scout sent to explore and establish early infastructure new world, and the communications with the minder in charge of keeping her alive.

Seen and Not Heard: (Slice-of-Life, Drama) Seen and Not Heard follows Bet, who's still adjusting to life a year after a bout of severe illness, and the resulting hearing loss it caused. It's about the ways we make connection, and food, and art, and different kinds of grief.

The Silt Verses: (Horror) In a modern world where gods are abundant, frequently both commercialised and restricted, two devotees of an outlawed river god go on a pilgrimage.

SINKHOLE: (Sci-Fi, Weird Fiction) Forum posts from a data restoration community in a near future where the human brain is its own computer and one city hosts a massive void.

Starfall: (Fantasy) Seeking to escape her mysterious past and find some purpose, a young swordswoman joins a travelling actor's troupe. This new life is unfamilar and sometimes stressful, but she's taken under the wing of stagehand Fel, who's determined to help her feel welcome as she experiences the figurative and literal magic of the theatre for the first time.

The Tower: (Weird Fiction) A low-key, meditative podcasy about a young woman who decides to climb a seemingly endless tower. Gorgeous sound design.

The Vesta Clinic: (Sci-Fi) New GP Dr. Fae Underwood, with the expert transcription skills of resident AI Sec, writes up patient reports on human and alien patients of The Vesta Clinic, a medical clinic on the edge of human space. Really comfy and creative.

Victoriocity: (Steampunk, Mystery) Set in the steam-powered Victorian city of Even Greater London, an aspiring journalist and a tired detective find themselves working together to solve a strange murder. I say Victorian but as queen Victoria is now an extensive grandiocity of cyborg components following seven only-kind-of-successful assassinations, you may need to adjust expectations a little.

[betweenlands]

sbk members species + respawn hcs

Viking -- "human." he's unsure how he respawns, and unknowingly this is because it's tied to something/someone that would really prefer to avoid detection.

Fix -- lumian. they just have innate respawn in some universes, wild right? it's fine, don't worry about it.

Fool -- was human at some point, probably, but is a little bit too god-touched to classify as that now. his god is actively trying to keep him alive.

Milkman -- nobody knows, but he's immortal by default of getting himself kicked out of every single afterlife in existence.

Kittrix -- sculky and might be an insect of some type (credit goes to @mallowbees for the latter). whenever she dies, a new Kittrix crawls out of the ground at her spawnpoint like a warden with her memory fully intact.

Trog -- don't ask. as for respawn, though, even if they hadn't done dark magic about that ages ago to make sure they'd never die, they effectively made the Skyblock world.

Ruby -- "human" as well. The Bearer Of The Curse. it's unclear as to if this curse is just immortality or if it's something else as well. some people who've stood near the point where zhe respawns have heard ticking clock noises...

Vintage -- human-adjacent, but a shapeshifter sometimes randomly have pointy ears or a unicorn horn or mantis mandibles or what have you. someone in her recent family history was probably fair folk. whatever afterlife she keeps getting sent to, they're suckers and are easily sweet-talked into letting her come back to life for free.

Leon -- just sort of a general anthro penguin situation (with maybe a little bit of endermite in there too). has too much chorus fruit in his system still and taking damage -- especially void damage -- will cause him to teleport, often several times at once. he usually drops all his stuff when this happens before ending up teleporting back home.

Josh -- a really fun guy. regrows. like a fungits. he's a mushroom.

Avid -- human, then ex-human (and largely made up of corpseplants), then a monkey. his boss won't let him die. whether this is a work benefit or a horrible drawback is entirely unclear.

Doovid -- was legitimately human prior to turning into a monkey. whenever he dies, time freezes, he sees an Instability detected. Player restored and game paused popup message out of the corner of his eyes, and then he resets back to where he woke up that morning with no stuff.

Kale -- pigy (potentially an alien, credit to @moxijunk for that one). has normal respawn, but goes full Gmod ragdoll when he dies before eventually fading and respawning. can't actually take Void deaths as he will loop back to the top of the skybox until he hits something solid, at which point he and his items vaporize on impact.

M1g -- lumian-enderdragon hybrid (credit to @autisticlalna for the former and @moxijunk for the latter). lumians do in fact have respawn in some universes; M1g specifically is here on assignment so he's been given respawn in order to blend in and maintain cover.

Marmalade -- human, still, something she's a little bit grumpy about because she thinks becoming a nonhuman would be pretty cool. whenever she dies the Void picks her up and oh so gently sets her back down at her spawnpoint with a pat on the head.

Teaish -- dryad, or at the very least a plant person. her fortune specifically said she was going to have a nice day and permadying would really ruin that :(

Anathra -- questionably human (he can see through the fourth wall, but also, he seems totally human otherwise). lags out heavily until he eventually restabilizes, erratically teleporting around and resetting his position several times in sort of a combination of Leon and Doovid's respawn styles. drops all his stuff during this process. (credit to @rubycowashere for this one)

Acorn -- tanuki (this seems to be a general consensus, idk who to credit) and also maybe fae (credit to @mallowbees). transforms into a leaf, and then a leaf on top of the Spruce island transforms into her. can't carry her inventory with her when doing this, though. (credit to @rubycowashere for this one as well)

Elffe -- some sort of Netherborn, although his exact species is unknown. regrows when he dies (it's very fleshy and a little bit gross).

Artemis -- human, but slightly to the left. weird portal-based respawn that will often evaporate her items while she's traveling. (credit to @fallow-foot for these)

[thelovetheystole]

It's that time again. Another long rant from me, on this Sunday morning.

I still gets to me when I see W*ndy's name in the spoilers. Like, I don't want to accept that TPTB gave this woman a place in the village, and that this character, with such a horrid introduction, is still there. And has been now for as long a period of time as we got to have Ryan as Robert.

And sometimes they let her talk about 'my L*e' with a sort of fond expression. (When was the last time, before very recently, anyone on the show thought of Robert fondly?) And I get he's her son. But she, nor he, had any history going back on this show before that god awful night in 2019. The show expects me to care about her?

Maybe, if her and her sons had been characters we already knew, maybe if we had seen their terrible life with the equally terrible dad that apparently shaped them all. But we didn't.

What we the viewers have seen however, since 1986, is Robert:

• Being born

• Losing his mum

• Cuddling baby lambs at Emmerdale Farm in the company of Jack, Joe and gran Annie

• Getting a new mum who loved him

• Being the most awkward little boy who ran away from home and didn't have any friends and who couldn't get his line right in the Christmas nativity

• Finding a best friend in Andy

• Getting a slap across the face from his father for basically not wanting to be a farmer

• Watching his second mum burn to death in a barn and learning his former best friend, now brother, was responsible and watching his dad cover that up

• Being given his first beer on his 15th birthday by Zak Dingle

• Constantly saying he feels like he's unwanted in his own family and is always disappointing his dad

• Having to leave the village at 19 with nothing, except his father saying not 'I love you', like W*endy would have said to L*e, instead 'I don't hate you' was the best Jack could do

• Watching them bury his father from afar, feeling like a stranger who still doesn't belong

• Falling in love with Aaron

• Redeeming himself while helping Aaron through the worst thing possible

• Finding Liv and stepping up, growing to love her like another sister

• Making peace with Andy and helping him escape the country

• Coming out to Aaron and telling him about what his dad did

• Saving Aaron's life and getting engaged

• Owning up to what he did with Rebecca and ending up loving his son so much

• Letting Aaron go, even if it means him being with Dr. Hair

• Marrying the love of his life in front of the entire village

• Living his best life with Aaron, Liv and Seb, planning to have another child

• Agonizing over what happened to his sister, and being unable to help her

• Turning himself in, even though he knew Aaron was willing to go on the run with him

So, to close, I don't like Wendy, lol.

And it's not like she has done one good deed after another is it? Working with an incomplete/fraudulent nurses license, lying to Victoria, Harry's inheritence being lost because of it, leading to David getting shot, cheating on Bob, not once but A LOT of times, in her place of work, and then making herself the victim... But hey, she did help someone get the hang of breastfeeding once.

[lunariamv]

curbing yandere gojo satoru ♡ yan gojo x fem reader; obsessive + possessive behavior, manipulation, gaslighting, slight misogyny, stalking, attempted kidnapping, violence, death shoutout to the anime death battle matchup threads on reddit so i could write this dumb shitpost gone girl and breaking bad vibes accidentally (lol)

Okay, what the hell. This is not fair.

Life has seemingly cursed you if this is what your fate is. Ever since you were little, your jerk-off parents were controlling psychopaths. They prioritized the clan. It's always been about the needs of the family and never you. Your clan, a bloodline of gifted sorcerers, with incredible powers passed down the family tree. They're incredibly prestigious, and super airheaded. The childhood you had was filled with training, studying, and striving to be the best to prove your worth. Thank the gods you were able to keep your wit and you never became an arrogant husk of your former self as a result of your stressful upbringing.

Since the clan wants to breed nothing but powerful sorcerers, they try to keep the family to be strictly sorcerers of a high class… which was why as soon as you were brought into the world, you were assigned to marry someone from another powerful family. Mind you, that you had never met. A betrothal out of your control, and it was to a nameless, faceless spouse. If that wasn't already terrifying, it wasn't until you were older that you finally met them, and desperately wish you hadn't.

He's too weird for you. Gojo Satoru had given you the ick when he tried to get incredibly mushy with you. The first impression was so awful it left a permanent scar on your potential relationship, and never healed. Honestly, you didn't see how people thought he was hot. In fact, you thought he was kind of stuck up. Sometimes you'd find yourself thinking, maybe if someone inflates his ego enough, his head will explode.

You know who you actually like? Nanami Kento! The two of you met in Jujutsu High, and you've been head over heels for him ever since. He's handsome, intelligent, and stern, your ideal type. Though Gojo tried his hardest to keep you away from him, it was nearly impossible to stop your schoolgirl crush from blooming. So it really sucked when he quit being a sorcerer while you and Gojo continued on to be alumni. Still, you made time to visit him when you could. Even though Kento came off as strict at first, the two of you had pretty good chemistry.

Then one day he disappeared without a trace. Everyone who cared had written him off as the salary man who just needed a break, but you didn't buy it.

So for the past few months, you've been investigating his disappearance on your own. Gojo keeps trying to hinder you, monitoring your actions and intervening under the guise of 'trying to bond with his fiancé,' but you're pretty sure he knows something. Hell, maybe he did it.

Needless to say, you're incredibly skeptical of Gojo. Ever since you first met, he's leaned into the whole fiancé romance trope way too hard, which you despised, since you held feelings for someone else. It's so annoying, how this grown man acts like a lovesick puppy around you. Saying you were disgusted was putting it mildly, and this resulted in you rejecting his advances at every turn. Even now you're trying to push the limits on this whole 'fiancé' thing. Maybe you should just cut ties with your family and break up with him. What exactly is stopping you?

Gojo. Gojo is stopping you.

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo's been madly in love with you for as long as he can remember. Primarily due to the fact that you were strong and capable enough to be his equal. Not only that, but the fact you weren't easily phased by him drove him absolutely crazy. Even when the mask was off and he wore his glasses, you didn't treat him any differently, compared to most women who melted in his presence. He loved messing with you and trying to win your affections, so much so it's become a game to him. The sardonic, witty personality you have contrasts with him well. The two of you are clearly made for each other, so why do you play so hard to get?

Gojo was currently resting at his nice apartment. Consumed by thoughts of you, his cute soon-to-be wife. Unlike you, he was incredibly excited about the marriage. In fact, he wanted to just hurry up and tie the knot already, if it weren't for you being hellbent on trying to stall it for as long as you could. He might be considered traditional, but part of him wanted to know if he could turn you into a stay at home housewife. You'd definitely protest, seeing it as demeaning, but he liked the idea of you only being subservient to him alone. You'd live a quieter life, safely at his side, and you'd be solely for his eyes. At the moment, he was stalking- watching you on his phone tracker. It should be about now…

Oblivious to this fact, you were heading to your new apartment. Merrily, you had just gotten it and (oops!) forgot to tell Gojo about it. Before you went to the building though, you decided to get a snack at a nearby café. For the first time in a while, you leisurely went through your phone, paying more attention to your device than you normally do. It was just to do some cleaning up of apps you didn't need anymore. That's when you saw it.

What the hell is this thing…?

Never in your life do you recall installing this app on your phone. It was submerged, buried in the endless pit of your apps, as if it was playing hide and seek. At the top bar, you could see something was running, too, and it was sucking up your battery. Narrowing your eyes in confusion, you pulled up your search engine and looked it up.

Oh, it's a tracking app?

The reveal was so unsettling that you find yourself smiling. An amused yet horrified chuckle escaped you. Eyebrows furrowing, you muttered under your breath. "Oh no, get this shit off, I don't want this…" As you were saying that, you were deleting all of the suspicious looking apps on your phone. You even went ahead and did some extra research about tracking and put up some extra scans.

The white haired man frowned in displeasure upon realizing the GPS was stuck. The blip was frozen. Either it was as awful as the reviews warned, or you figured it out. What a pain. Regardless, he still held your last known whereabouts right there. Guess he shouldn't rely on technology so much and instead do things the old fashioned way, right? With that in mind, he went out to the last place the marker had placed you.

Back at your place, you were resting on your couch. You were still trying to wrap your head around the tracker on your phone. Who put that there? Gojo, most likely. He must've set it up the last time you two crossed paths, while you were distracted. While you wanted to be shocked at that reveal, you couldn't say you were surprised. He always struck you as a weirdo, to the point you were under the impression that he was borderline obsessed with you or something. It doesn't shock you in the slightest that creep would stoop this low.

Perhaps this was the tipping point you needed. After all, he just violated your privacy, and who knows what other things he's done. Holding up your phone, you called your parents to break the 'terrible' news. Needless to say, they didn't take your declaration to call off the wedding very well. No doubt this would kill relations between your family and the Gojo clan. Though, you found yourself feeling rather apathetic to the matter.

For nearly all of your life, you had taken a backseat for the good of your lineage. Years and years of enduring painstaking training, studying, and then a forced engagement for them, and for what? Virtually nothing in return. It wasn't even going to a good cause anyways, as this involuntary construction of human life served only to benefit an outdated, egocentric family tradition. The only 'good' you can argue you've done was saving lives as a sorcerer, which was just a byproduct of their success.

In that call, you told them to disown you if it pained them that much to have a disappointing daughter. To fully break away, you'd move to another country or something. Even though your intent was to sever the ties, there was a sliver of remorse deep in the recesses of your heart. Despite your cruel upbringing, you did feel some attachment to your parents. They were your family, and they were all you had. However, you couldn't marry someone you didn't love. Especially someone who was this clearly unhinged.

They were protesting all the while before you hung up. After a moment, you dialed another number.

There's a slight deep chuckle over the line. "…Well, it's about time." Gojo's voice ardently crooned over the phone. You could practically hear the smug grin on his stupid face. He sounded rather pleased that you finally called him for a change, like he had been waiting for this moment his whole life.

The cocky tone voice in his voice almost made you laugh. Almost. It seemed you beat your parents or his in delivering him the bad news.

"Hi Satoru." You said casually, as if you weren't about to drop a bombshell on him. Then you spoke the following lines. "I'm sorry, but I can't marry you."

There was a brief pause. One that drew on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"Mm…? Did you say something, (Y/N)? I didn't quite catch that." He asked innocently. However, you're absolutely certain he heard you the first time. Even so, you decide to be nice, and twist the knife even further.

"I said," Your voice becomes more stern as you narrowed your eyes. "I'm sorry, but I can't marry you Gojo. The wedding is off."

"It should be obvious, but I'm not too fond of you, and I'd rather marry someone I actually love." The words flowed out of you like a river. A cool wave of relief washed off you as you truthfully spoke your mind. Speaking the truth felt incredibly good. For once, you felt like you were taking control. No more sitting aside, waiting for someone else to tell you what to do.

There's another split second of silence before Gojo spoke again. "(Y/N), I sincerely think you should reconsider." He drew a breath. "Think about your family, remember what this'll mean for them. Both your family and mine have been waiting for this since we were kids. Do you really want to do this to them?" He's trying to be rational, trying to convince you otherwise. If he was as crazy as you're theorizing, he must be suppressing his anger right now. Though, you're just as insane as he is. You know this'll drive him to his boiling point, and with that in mind, you continued your sprint across the thin tightrope.

"No, I'm pretty sure. Don't bother, I've already informed my parents about my decision. I hope you can forgive me for being selfish." At least you're kind enough to apologize. With that, you pulled your phone away from your ear. A digit hovered over the red button.

"(Y/N)--" Before he could reply, you hung up the call. Relief washed over you. With a genuinely content smile, you went back to whatever you were doing before.

On the other line, Gojo sat there motionlessly with his phone, the dial tone ringing in his ears. Silently, he held a haunted expression on his visage. Pale with wide eyes, it was like he had seen a ghost. It quickly faded once the anger set in, and his face twisted into a furious scowl. He's practically seething. Why are you doing this to him?! He wasn't oblivious to your tendency to reject his advances, but he didn't expect you to go this far. He'd figure you'd come around eventually, not throw it all away! All you had to do was go along and marry him. It was going to be perfect.

No, don't worry. Gojo faintly smiled to himself. This is still salvageable. He just needs to talk to you in person. Once you're face to face, he'll get you to change your mind, with a little persuasion, of course. Trying to suppress his raging anger, he calmed himself down as he swiftly walked down the streets.

Unbothered, you were laying on the couch, currently browsing the web for potential places to go. Singapore seems really good right about now…

"(Y/N)? Open the door!"

Ugh, there he is. It surprisingly didn't take that long for him to find you. To be fair, you deactivated the tracker a block down from where the complex was. He most likely found it and then asked your landlord for your door. Kinda stupid of you.

With a tired sigh, you lowered your head and fell silent for a moment. Maybe if you ignore him, he'll give up and go away.

Of course, he doesn't. Suddenly, your front door was violently kicked open. The loud slam made you gradually raise your head, drawing your attention. Your gaze flicked over to it, and lo and behold, Gojo was standing there at the entrance.

"…Well that's rude." You uttered with a nonchalant tone. Was breaking your door really necessary? Wonder what the costs are to get that fixed…

Maybe he was trying to play along, because he ended up gently closing the broken door behind him. He walked dangerously closer to you. "(Y/N), please. I'm begging you to reconsider." He spoke up. Although his voice was sultry, a smooth cadence like marble, there was a mild urgency hidden in the depths. "I love you. You're my darling fiancé, and I want you to marry me."

Standing up, you narrowed your eyes. A disapproving glare formed on your features. Perhaps in another life, or another universe, you would've found his declaration sweet. It was truly heart stealing stuff. Something that would make you melt into his arms like chocolate. Unfortunately, you wouldn't fall for it in this timeline. "How many times do I have to say it, Satoru? I'm not into you."

Tilting your head about an inch, your gaze bore into his. If he wasn't so upset, he would've been reveling over how gorgeous you looked right now. "I've officially broken up with you. So while I'm asking nicely, give up while you still have your dignity." You warned him.

Your threat garnered a low chuckle from Gojo. To him, it was nothing. While he did consider you to be 'equals', there was a clear difference in strength. He was one of the strongest sorcerers in the world, if not the strongest. While you were no doubt strong, he was much more powerful. If anything, he should be saying those words to you.

"That's cute." He nonchalantly commented with a smoldering glance. While his tone held intense admiration, the grin on his face was condescending. Either way, it's gross, and made you grimace slightly.

Despite the growing tension in the room, you refused to back down. If he was going to try to force you to be with him, you'd gladly fight against it. After all, it'd be a shame to let all your intense sorcery training go to waste. When he stepped closer, you got into a fighting stance.

Gojo stepped forward, and you anticipate it. His Limitless.

You’ve sparred with him before, so the concept of his ability wasn’t foreign to you. Taking a deep breath, you watched him carefully. Heightening your awareness, your focus sharpened, and you seemingly step out of your body for a moment. The heightened focus was like an astral projection.

The man dashed towards you in the blink of an eye. He went to strike, and you swiftly moved with a deflect. However, your counter attack doesn’t hit and you’re sent skidding back a few feet. Gojo chuckled again, and you could tell from that and his attack that he’s not taking this seriously. You’ll make him.

The two of you start fighting. Gojo engaged by trying to hit you, and his movements were fast, but you’re able to counter him to the best of your ability. Still, he’s holding back, and you figured that asshole enjoyed messing with you. Even so, you still used all your strength to fight back. If he wouldn't give his all, you most certainly will.

Meanwhile, Gojo realized you’re serious about putting up a fight. He’s been holding back as to not hurt his darling fiancé, but this was starting to become a pain in the neck. Might as well put an end to this already, even if it meant knocking you out.

In an instant, Gojo came at you. Time decelerated to a drag, and you forced your body to the side. With one swift motion, you evaded his grab for you. Following your movements, a sharp breath escaped you.

That’s when you observe the two of you had fully switched places. Finally, after dancing around him, your form was by the door, and it’s prime time to make an escape. To subtly inch toward the exit during the fight, that had been your plan all along.

Unfortunately, Gojo had long anticipated this ploy of yours. He simply played along because he could easily stop you. He raised a hand.

That’s when you call it. Limitless.

Gojo was going to close the gap and catch you. You wouldn’t be able to hit him. It was over.

Though, there was no fearful look in your eyes. They were stern and full of conviction. “That notion… I'll veto it.” You declare softly.

Silence followed your words. There was still a large gap of space between you two. What should've happened was a deletion of space, there was nothing of the sort. Caught off guard by this revelation, Gojo stopped and furrowed his brows slightly in confusion. His outstretched hand dropped about an inch.

What just happened?

His split second bewilderment opened a window of opportunity to you. Taking advantage of his stunned disposition, you spun on your heel and took off running out of the building.

Thankfully, you got the feeling in your leg back in the nick of time. You ran away.

A sigh escaped your lips. Back pressed against the side wall of the locked bathroom stall, you stared at the tile for a moment. The women's restroom of this coffee shop was empty, the only sound being the constant hum of the ventilation. Once you believed you were ready, you delved into your pocket and took out a card. Flipping it over, you read the printed numbers and inputted them into your burner phone. It was only a few seconds of ringing when the other line picked up.

You lowered the card. "I'm looking for a Hoover Max Extract Pressure-Pro Model 60."

It was burning hot in the car, so you had the windows rolled down. The cool wind blew your hair back, a reinvigorating feeling to the senses. You were driving down a long stretch of road. No other cars or people in sight. The yellow baked sun highlighted the dry, sandy grass patches surrounding you that seemed to go on for miles. With one hand on the wheel, you pushed up your sunglasses before resting your arm on the window of your SL Mercedes. Traveling to a new country was a whole different ballpark, but you were going to make it work. After being cooped up in a stuffy cargo plane, the open road was a sigh of relief.

Growing up, you and Gojo went to the same schools together to Jujutsu High. This meant he knew your sorcerer abilities pretty well. As far as he knew, your curse ability boiled down to energy manipulation.

Although the ability is labeled as ‘energy,’ the underlying truth was that's only the surface level explanation. There's more to it. The true extent of your abilities was kept a secret, thanks to your discreet, privileged family. As a child, you were told you had been graced with intense power. Though, you were vowed to keep quiet about the secret art you had.

The power to negate power.

In order to perfect it, you’ve been training it all your life. Surprisingly enough, this was the first time you’ve had a sincere reason to use it. For the binding vow that accompanies it is concerning.

At the price of negating forces of nature, altering the flow of destiny, an suitable exchange must be made. By contingency, the exchange offers up a functioning part of your body. A fair trade.

“To negate something means to willingly negate a piece of you,” your mother would tell your younger self.

The moment you cancelled Gojo’s Limitless, you had lost the feeling in one of your legs. It had gone numb, like a useless piece of plastic. In that state, you wouldn’t be able to move too fast. Thankfully, it came back quickly so you could make your escape.

For that reason, it was a double edged sword. Dangerous, but handy. You’d have to keep on your toes for the rest of your life, and you’d have to keep up your physical fighting, but as far as sorcery goes… Gojo can’t touch you. And you… can certainly hit him.

Thanks to your ability… you were able to escape him that day.

It was incredible. Being able to take control of your life, gave you a rush that you’d never think of ever having.

Once you escaped, you did everything you could to discreetly change your identity. Using your leftover riches from your family name, you were able to call in a person to help you ‘disappear.’ Gojo would never be able to track you. And with that, (Y/N) (L/N) vanished off the face of the earth. She was gone.

It was a nice, sunny day. You were relaxing at home.

It's been three years since then. By now, you should try to settle down, right? However, your cautiousness made you hesitant. If Gojo ever did come for you, the last thing you wanted was for someone to get caught in the crossfire. Like Nanami.

Upon reminiscing, you frown in realization. You never did find out anything about Nanami’s disappearance, didn’t you? Maybe he was dead after all. It wouldn't shock you if it turned out Gojo made him vanish. It'd line up with how creepy he had been thus far.

You offered him a small prayer in your mind. Hopefully he was at peace, wherever he was now.

After that, you went out onto the backyard porch. The crashing waves of the ocean ahead always set you at ease. The warm sun heated your skin. Leaning against the wooden railing, you closed your eyes, and lost yourself to the sound of nature.

"What a lovely sight." The sudden voice made you jump. What scared you the most was not that it terminated your solitary without warning, but that it took you years to forget about that cadence, until now.

Standing a few feet away on the platform, leaning against the railing, was a forbidden sight. A man that shouldn't exist in your little safe paradise. Somehow, he got here undetected, past all of your locks and security cameras.

Gojo turned to you with a charming smile. As if this was a reunion between two old friends. In a malevolent way, it was. "Though you could do much better than this, it's a nice place."

Remaining silent, you didn't say his name. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

How did he find you? Your benefactor, with no ties to the Gojo clan, changed your records, your appearance, and virtually anything that had to deal with your identity. Not a single trace was left. And yet, here he stood in your home.

Why couldn't he just leave you alone?

There were plenty of women out there he could easily have. Any of them would be happy to grant his desires, or even replace you as his estranged wife. You didn't understand why he insisted on having you.

"Why won't you give up already?" You asked calmly, an apathetic look in your eyes. At least three years have passed since you escaped the shackles of your predetermined live. Plenty of time for him to move on and find someone else. In a way, hiding was supposed to be your form of encouragement.

Between the two of you, he was much more stubborn. Arrogance paved the way for greed, and he refused to lose when it came to anything. A man with the mentality of a spoiled child. Such entitlement of course, extended to you. He didn't give up because he didn't want anyone else. Letting you go and moving on was too easy. Why settle for something he can get with ease, when it was much more exciting to chase what he can't have?

"I've already told you, (Y/N). Millions of times over…" He stepped closer while you retreated back. "I love you." His voice was warm and genuine.

"And it's a lie." You retorted with a razor-like glare. If he truly cared as much as he says, he would let you go. He wouldn't still be here. It was a selfish act, not one out of love. Perhaps he did a long time ago, but his sentimental emotions were corrupted by his egotism. "If you loved me, you'd leave me be."

"(Y/N). Why are you so selfish?" He asked, and you paused. As if a switch had been flipped, his expression grew cold. "Running away from your family, running away from me, and running away from us. You had a good life, and became a powerful sorcerer. Why would you throw that all away? For cowardice? For your insecurities?"

He held up his hand. A hopeful, promising shine was in his eyes. "I came here because I refuse to give up on you. I care about you. Come back with me, and I promise to help you. We'll get through this together. I'll make you happy." He proposed with a warm smile.

A pit formed in your stomach. Even now, he's still trying to manipulate you. Twisting the narrative to belittle your desire for freedom as an insecurity. Justifying his stalking and chasing after you as some sort of savior situation. That your autonomy was something that needed to be fixed. If you weren't so disgusted, you could see yourself laughing at the absurdity of it all. "No. I don't want to go anywhere with you." You gave him your answer.

"Aaah… that's not the right answer." He sighed with a hint of amusement. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned his back to the railing. Then he faced you and held out his hand.

He tried to use his ability, but you were quick to stop him. Your arm went limp, but you raised your leg. Kicking him as hard as you could, he was sent flying through the wall. He quickly recovered and got back up.

He dashed forward, and you swiftly dodged out of the way. You got a few good hits in, since he was wary to not use Limitless in excess against you. Now that he couldn't use it to protective himself, everything was fair game. You threw anything you could that was in the house. Lamps, décor, and even furniture. He dodged most of them.

"Enough with this, (Y/N)!" He called out to you. The house was nearly destroyed from all the fighting. Gojo grumbled under his breath. Now that he was aware you could nullify his ability, he had to get creative.

Suddenly, he disappeared from your vision. Heart racing in your chest, you glanced around the room and kept your guard up. There was no running outside, because he could be waiting at the exit.

You turned and sensed something. With your energy magic, you charged the tv to make it explode. Gojo emerged from the shadows and came at you. He was using his Limitless. You had no choice but to nullify it and prepare to counterattack, but suddenly, your mind went blank.

Just now, you had rolled the dice, and yielded the worst possible results. The worst part to neutralize… your brain. It made you lose.

When consciousness came back to you, Gojo was holding you in a tight grip. Pointed at your neck, the tip an inch away from your skin, was a syringe.

Gojo was breathing heavily. Pressing his built chest into your back, you could hear him in your ear. It was a good effort you put up against him, but now it was over. At last, he had you. "Let's go home, shall we?" He hummed with delight.

Before he could move, you snapped your fingers. A explosion of smoke erupted from your body, and the mass coated the air like a screen. You threw your head back, crashing into his face. His grip weakened slightly and you stomped on his foot with all your might, and jabbed your elbow into his abdomen. With a grunt of pain, he fully released you. Not wasting any time, you ran forward and dashed out the back door.

You spun around to see him emerge from the smoke to give chase. Reaching a hand into your pocket, you darted to the edge of the porch. You vaulted over wooden railing and jumped off. In your hand was a small device. You pressed the button.

A large explosion blew up your beloved home. There was a loud, thunderous crash. Debris flew in all directions, and the source was consumed in fire. Once your feet landed onto the sandy beach, you took off running.

On the run yet again. All the money you spent on disappearing the first time had significantly depleted your sources, and nearly the rest had just gone up in flames. You'd have to get creative with your next disappearance, for whatever time you had left.

As you were running, you suddenly stumbled and halted in place. The dizzy spell was so faint, it took you a second to recognize it. During that fight, the syringe must've touched you.

The unknown drug he gave you… you had no idea how much time you had until you passed out. However much time you had, it most likely wasn't enough to hide where you couldn't be found. All of your options were drying up.

Frozen, you stared at the ground. A blank expression haunted your tired features as you fixated on the gravel at your feet.

Was this it? It's all over?

Closing your eyes, you took a shaky breath. It's not. With your remaining strength, you continued running.

Gojo's manipulative speech to you, at first you completely dismissed it as nothing but deceptive garbage. It was bred on twisting your actions to make him seem like the victim. A gaslighting trap, to warp your perspective of reality, and convince you to return to him. Almost like the domains he put his enemies in. At least, that's what you originally thought. After reflecting upon it, you realized that there was some truth to his words. Even when fabricating lies, there will always be a hint of truth hiding in the cracks.

Maybe he was right.

All you've done is run away. In your youth, you fled from living a normal life to become the perfect child your parents wanted. At the expense of your childhood. You ran away from mistakes and imperfections to strive for greatness. Once that was over, you ran away from your family when they needed you most. Then you ran away from Gojo, from your relationship and your engagement. Here you were, proving him right by running away again.

If you kept going, you'd never be able to stop running. This track you set yourself upon, it was an endless one. A nonstop cycle of running on a wheel, with no destination. Gojo, while rendered vulnerable for the moment, was still immortal in the grand scheme of things. He held too much power. Untouchable and relentless, he'll be chasing you forever.

Perhaps… it was time to stop.

When you finally came to a halt, you were near the edge of a cliff. Below, the gathering ocean, crashing against the rocks. The comforting sound you had come to admire. The sun was setting in the sky, and the stars were finally revealing themselves. You've always wanted to come here, but you never found the opportunity.

"(Y/N)…" Gojo called your name. Though he sounded tired, there was a hint of teasing to it. It was the end of the line, after all. Even if you tried to jump, he could catch you. This game of tag had finally reached it's conclusion. "It's over. There's no need for this."

Silently, you met his gaze. The light breeze swept your hair as you stood still. A few seconds passed when you eventually parted your lips. "You're absolutely right." You said with a faint smile and soft eyes. "I'm done with you. Farewell, Satoru."

A bold choice of words. As much as he rather wouldn't, Gojo decided he'd have to hurt you, just so you couldn't run away anymore. Upon stepping back, you suddenly found yourself in a new space. The area around you was a celestial realm, a starry prison. He called his Limitless, and cemented you inside a domain. This way, you couldn't evade him. Even if you nullified it, he could just cast it again and again until you gave up.

So, he didn't know you were on the verge of collapsing. That was perfect.

Once more, you opened your eyes wide. They began to glow. Channeling all of your curse energy, you took his power, and turned it off.

Upon doing so, there was a sharp pain in your chest. Blood stopped pumping and your breath slowed to a cease. It was then that you lost feeling in your head, then your body. Falling back, you lost your balance and went over the edge. Your vision was growing blurry, and everything felt cold. Faintly, you could feel your body falling.

Cancelling his ability wasn't the ultimate goal. The consequences were. To negate all of his powers at once, you offered up the most important function of your body. The heart of the machine. It was held for as long as you could, and you made it.

Finally, you were away from him. To the one place where he couldn't get you. It might've been one last run, but it was something you did of your own volition. Nobody told you what to do, and you freely made your choice. Maybe Gojo could have given you a promising life, but you would never be happy. This outcome was what satisfied you. Your legs had grown tired from running, and now you could finally rest.

rip girlie

i like how at the start i was trolling but at the end it just got sad :')

dividers: cafekitsune

follow for other writings;

♡ quotev ♡ wattpad ♡ archive ♡ caard ♡

[goodnightmemes]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS (PART ONE)

episodes: s01e01 - s01e04

❛ There are stories out there that need to be told. ❜

❛ Mortality beats a heavy drum. ❜

❛ Things didn't end well the last time, so forgive me if I'm a little nervous. ❜

❛ Do you not know your value? Do you suffer these indignities for some larger purpose? ❜

❛ Let the tale seduce you. Just as I was seduced. ❜

❛ Stop! Don't do that shit here! ❜

❛ Dishonesty breeds dishonesty. ❜

❛ It ain't easy, the work I do. Nothing but broken souls around me, and the ones that ain't broke are greedy. ❜

❛ The Earth's a savage garden. ❜

❛ How do you do that? Get in my head like that. ❜

❛ I had no room for feelings like these in my life. ❜

❛ I have seen death over and over and over and over again. It's boring. ❜

❛ Easy prey for the discerning predator. ❜

❛ And rather than fix it like a man should, I run like a coward. I run to the bottle. I run to the grift. I run to bad beds. ❜

❛ I laid down with the Devil. And he has roots in me, all his spindly roots in me, and I can't think nothin' anymore but his voice and his words! ❜

❛ I'm not the Devil. You were wrong about that. But I can give you death. ❜

❛ What rage you must feel as you choke on your sorrow. ❜

❛ I can swap this life of shame, swap it out for a dark gift and a power you can't begin to imagine. You just have to ask me for it. ❜

❛ For the first time in my life, I was seen. ❜

❛ Be my companion. Be all the beautiful things you are, and be them without apology. For all eternity. ❜

❛ Memory is a monster. We forget, it doesn't. ❜

❛ We live off the blood of the living. Lap up the blood of the deceased and it'll suck you right down into death, along with your victim. ❜

❛ You have the power to subdue anyone you want, but sometimes restraint is your most powerful weapon. ❜

❛ This is your home now. ❜

❛ The sun gives life to everything but us. ❜

❛ The life of a vampire has its challenges and its rewards... ❜

❛ Do you contemplate the life of the rabbit before you cut it? Or do you simply cut?❜

❛ These are nightmares I'm having, not dreams. ❜

❛ One might think the ability to read a mind a most useful gift, but, in reality, it's quite mundane. ❜

❛ Every human thought boils down to three things..."I want food", "I want sex", "I want to go home". ❜

❛ You chase after phantoms of your former self. I'll break you of it. ❜

❛ You hide from me this long again, I'll hunt you down and slap you sideways. ❜

❛ I had powers now and decades of rage to process, and it was both random and unfortunate, the man picked that night to dabble in fuckery. ❜

❛ You are a library of confusion. ❜

❛ I don't like sleeping angry. ❜

❛ For the record, if disrespect was done to you, I would have killed him myself. ❜

❛ If you love your family, as I know you do, spare them all the pain that you are causing them. ❜

❛ I ain't never gon' have a family of my own, am I? No sons, no daughters. ❜

❛ I'm your family. ❜

❛ I've been neglectful of our romance. ❜

❛ He was my murderer, my mentor, my lover, and my maker… all of those things at once. ❜

❛ There is one thing about being a vampire that I most fear above all else... and that is loneliness. You can't imagine the emptiness, a void stretching out for decades at a time. ❜

❛ We must stay together and take precaution and never part. ❜

❛ Well, I don't say that you have to enjoy it! Kill them swiftly if you have to, but do it! Embrace what you are! You are a killer! ❜

❛ Come now, love, let's get you to the couch to die. ❜

❛ If you'd listen to me, if you finally submit to your nature, you will be filled, with all the life you can hold. ❜

❛ You will see death in all its beauty, life as it is only known at the very point of the death. You alone, of all creatures, can see death with that impunity. ❜

❛ You alone, under the rising moon, can strike like the hand of God. ❜

❛ Do you ever think that we, that's to say, our kind...were put on Earth for a larger purpose? ❜

❛ I put you on this earth. Your purpose is to enjoy yourself. ❜

❛ I desire blood as much as you do. But I wonder, should we be more selective? ❜

❛ Hunting is pure instinct. Reason is a set of leg irons. ❜

❛ Every one of them is capable of abomination, even the ones worthy of admiration. ❜

❛ Don't mind the shaking. I've snapped his spine. It's merely his nerves spasming. ❜

❛ I don't wanna kill people anymore. ❜

❛ So much of that year was a blur. And you can imagine what time's inevitable hammer does to the minute details. ❜

❛ This is the odyssey of recollection. ❜

❛ Oh, come now. I don't bite. ❜

❛ Aren't I enough? ❜

❛ We'll be together ten thousand nights, a hundred thousand.  ❜

❛ What we're doing is hard. Anything that wards off the dungs of the everlasting road we walk. ❜

❛ There. I said it. We're communicating so much better now, no? ❜

❛ You ever think about those old days when we were kids? ❜

❛ You wanna come around, you come around when people are awake. ❜

❛ Well, I thought we could have an orgy. You can fuck them, and I can eat them. ❜

❛ What can I say? I'm a lot. I'm not perfect. ❜

❛ I heard your hearts dancing! ❜

❛ You watched the whole thing like some creeper! ❜

❛ This is not a life! ❜

❛ Am I from the Devil? Is my very nature that of the Devil? ❜

❛ Take a black man in America, make him a vampire, fuck with that vampire, and see what comes of it. ❜

❛ You're here to threaten me, I suppose. ❜

❛ Why is your heart beatin' so fast? ❜

❛ Did you not smile when he begged? Did you not feel pleasure as you carved him up? ❜

❛ You did what you did because it gave you pleasure. ❜

❛ We should make this our anniversary. ❜

❛ That's why you and me ain't never gon' work. That's why you're always gonna be alone. ❜

❛ You were ready to abandon our home. Now you want a third. ❜

❛ I'm not human no more, am I? ❜

❛ I'll teach you, but not if we're going to have family secrets. ❜

❛ We're a family? ❜

❛ You're not a girl. You're a devil. ❜

❛ Hungry? You just ate a man twice your size. You can't possibly be… ❜

❛ I'm so hungry. I think I'm gon' die. Is that how vampires die? From starvation? ❜

❛ If you made me and you made [name], who made you? ❜

❛ When I'm tired, I'm not so kind. ❜

❛ Fighting sounds funny in French. ❜

❛ A girl vampire needs her own space if she's gonna find herself in this no-day world. ❜

❛ He got secrets. He don't give good answers to questions, sits on the truth like it's his chair or somethin'. ❜

❛ I thought we weren't supposed to keep secrets. ❜

❛ Sometimes, old people don't like talkin' much about the past. ❜

❛ For a killing machine, I kinda like her. ❜

❛ You wouldn't believe how time flies when there's people to eat and money to spend. ❜

❛ We do like mortals do. We fight, we eat, we laugh, we sleep, we love. ❜

❛ Never seen a dead one look so peaceful. You know what her last words were? ❜

❛ Wakes were invented in places where it snows. ❜

❛ You've been too sheltered, my belladonnic beauty. ❜

❛ You must be most ferocious, hmm? ❜

❛ There's something back there, something evil. ❜

❛ Yeah, I'm surprised your fancy parents let you out at night. ❜

❛ I finally got a few secrets of my own. ❜

❛ You're an angel. ❜

❛ This is why we never get close to mortals. Because sooner or later, they end up dead. ❜

❛ I had a daughter. ❜

❛ That means there's so much more fun out there to have. I'm just getting started.❜

[ohwormwood]

i've lost my goddamn mind: rambling on parallels in isat and frankenstein

i need to write this down so i can try and defend my ass because it sounds crazy until you read the goddamn book and suddenly IT ALL MAKES FUCKING SENSE.

[woe, spoilers be upon ye! for both isat and frankenstein of course]

for context: i am a gender studies minor. i write on queer theory for funsies. and sometimes i like to let my hyperfixations melt together like cheese. this is the result.

Siffrin and victor. it's the fucking rampant mental illness for me. i cannot stress how many times i stopped mid-chapter and went "theyre the same fucking picture". it's fucking uncanny at times. The absolute extent of their self loathing is so in tandem that it's kind of scary. Both of them, despite not being directly involved, hold the weight of the deaths of their loved ones upon themselves (even if in Siffrin's case it was temporary, the point still stands). They both love their families so dearly???? like, to the point of self destruction and death. The absolute terror of losing your family to a force you cannot control, created by your own hand???

"I often suffered my mule to lag behind, and indulged in the misery of reflection. At other times I spurred on the animal before my companions, that I might forget them, the world, and, more of all, myself." (Shelley 67) Hello???? Siffrin???? is that you

So, as you probably guessed.... Loop is the creature in this case. The foil. The reflection. the absolute anguish of being denied humanity and comfort and love but having the capacity and inclination to love a family you cannot obtain. The simultaneous scorn yet codependence upon the other half they didn't get to choose, a need for revenge but also a profound and all-consuming self-hatred and remorse??? the self-denial of love???

"my heart yearned to be known and loved by these amiable creatures: to see their sweet looks turned towards me with affection" (Shelley 96) Head in fucking hands. loop watching the party. ough.

"if i cannot inspire love, i will cause fear" (Shelley 107) LIKE. MOTHERFUCKER. OUGHHH.

the fact that victor cannot fucking die for the vast majority of the story, spurned on by revenge and grief and self-loathing.... yeah act 5 siffrin...

I see this as like. the ISAT bad ending. Two Hats if loop had a lil chat with the king and went off the deep end. Or just loop, if they had no concept of their former self. if siffrin was a true frankenstein in that situation, i think that loop would definitely end up as a true version of the creature.

both siffrin and victor feeling undeserving of their family's love because of their actions

Oh here's the one that will send ppl over the edge: "or longed, with a devouring maladie du pays..." (Shelley 139) When i tell you I fucking almost yelled in the middle of work. I had to take a fucking pause. because the topic of homesickness and love for one's culture comes up a LOT in both of these. even if siffrin doesn't remember it.

Sidenote: i will forever and always hold in my heart that victor is ace. i am literally writing a fucking theoretical essay on this. I cannot explain here how much i have picked apart every allusion to this over the course of the text. it's genuinely a problem.

"You hate me; but your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself." (Shelley 170) i. i cannot say anything else about this but. Loop. yeah.

something something, fallen angel motifs in both the creature and loop

the creature's overseeing of the family in the cottage makes me think a lot about how loop would have seen their family interacting with who they could have been/used to be every fucking loop. but being unable to do anything about it. and then when they DO meet them. they do not recognize them and see them as inhuman. i simply fucking cry.

Anyways to end on a lighthearted note: isa is my walton. hopelessly gay. devoted to a fucking fault. secretly holds the braincells. the most loving man on gods green earth. Sympathizer 1000. Yeah.

did i need to do this? no. does it make any logical sense? absolutely fucking not. but am i going to be thinking about this for the next 3 weeks? yes. yes i am. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[admirableadmiranda]

Sometimes it feels like the main message that a lot of people miss in MDZS in their leaps to justify one character’s hatred for another or attempting to remove them from the world because they will never be at peace until that person is completely eradicated, is that it poses a question of “how much blood does it take to satisfy the anger? How much death is necessary to live? How much pain that you want to inflict is truly equal to what you have suffered? Where is the line between justice, vengeance and murder?”

MDZS does not have our modern sensibilities and laws for such a thing, and it’s on purpose. It’s set in a time where there is no emperor or god onscreen to merit out justice or retribution, it’s all in the hands of the mortals. They get to decide how much is enough.

And the thing that so many people miss is that for almost every character (and I will include Wei Wuxian in this with a caveat) go too far at some point. Sure, the desire to kill your brother’s killer is understandable. But what about the people who you harm in that path? Nie Huaisang does end up taking down Jin Guangyao, but the cost is that Qin Su also dies, destroyed even before her death by the reality of what the men around her will stoop to do out of pride and anger, what they will use her for in the process.

Why do I stand so firmly against the people who say that Jin Guangyao and Jiang Cheng had their reasons, that they were right to go as far as they did? Because the text itself does take the time to show us what is reasonable in that world and what is greedy, wrathful, unjustified.

Jiang Cheng has every right to hate the men who invaded his home and killed his family. In the natures of their society it is not wrong for him to step him and take revenge against them. The supervisory camps in Yunmeng were built on the blood of his people. I have no qualm with him removing them from his land, even though it ends in their deaths.

But that does not mean that his righteous war should extend to all who bear the Wen name and that is where the gap comes in. Wen Chao had him tortured and his golden core crushed. By the rules of that world as extolled by Xiao Xingchen when talking to Xue Yang, it is reasonable to take back what was done to him in blood there.

But Wen Ning is not Wen Chao. Wen Ning risked his life, his sister’s life and ultimately ended up contributing to Wen Ruohan’s campaign toppling and ending in dust because when he was offered the choice to either stick by his family or stick by his morals, he chose the former. The Wen’s attack on Lotus Pier was wrong. The lives they took were unjustified. Their actions were deplorable.

By standing up and protecting Jiang Cheng in the way he does, smuggling him back out of Lotus Pier and hiding him away from the Wen who would kill him, he is declaring that his own family is in the wrong, and instead makes a sacrifice that could have had him and his sister killed should Wen Ruohan ever find out about it.

Jiang Cheng knows this. This is where the right of hatred falls flat. This is where his righteous anger becomes a hunger for blood that will never be satiated.

Now I’m not saying that Jiang Cheng should hug and kiss Wen Ning for everything. There are limits to what humans can endure, even ones as good as Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. But he refuses to ever acknowledge what he knows. He refuses to ever act in kind. He owes a debt and he knows it. And he instead not only refuses to pay it by not necessarily taking them into his lands, but even acknowledging that they did anything. He buries them with their family and his words. He lets his hatred overwhelm all else.

He was not powerless at the end of the war. Far from it, in fact! He had a sect that was still rebuilding its forces, but it had been three years since the start of the war so it can’t be tiny anymore, and he had Wei Wuxian with the Yin Hufu. The only two necromancers in the world, who are powerful enough to hold whole barriers on their own. This is the whole point of the display at Phoenix Mountain. Wei Wuxian is showing the other three great clans and all the smaller clans that it does not matter how many of them they have, Yunmeng Jiang has him and while they have him, they are untouchable. This is a known fact.

Jiang Cheng would have faced no long term retribution from doing anything. He could have simply let Wei Wuxian pull them out of the Jin indoctrination camp and take them through Yunmeng to somewhere else and after some grumbling and some pleading on Jin Guangshan’s part, nothing would have happened. Wei Wuxian is too strong and the other clans are too aware of that. No one was safer than Yunmeng Jiang at the end of the war.

That is why the Jin play off of his jealousy and anger and get him to throw aside Wei Wuxian. It is literally their only option.

This brings me to the other half of my discussion, which is where does the bloodshed end? What is enough spilled blood?

If Jiang Cheng hates Wei Wuxian enough to try to kill him, then this should be a vengeance that ends with Wei Wuxian’s death. Death ends all obligations. We owe no more money, we settle no more debts, we leave the shackles of the living in life and the dead move on as do the living.

So why then is it acceptable that Jiang Cheng spends the next thirteen years killing people that remind him of Wei Wuxian? That the moment that Wei Wuxian does return, his first action is to try and kill him again? That he tortures him multiple times and it is only Lan Wangji’s presence and Jin Ling’s quick thinking that save him on those occasions? By all rights including our modern ones, Wei Wuxian should be free and Jiang Cheng should have moved on in thirteen years. Thirteen years is long enough to raise a child almost to adulthood, but Jiang Cheng clings to a hatred that has had no outlet for that long and continues to try and demand Justice that he has already received.

Where is the line? When is enough? Why does the blood of innocents have to be paid too for the hunger of the mighty? Wen Ruohan subtly assassinated Nie Mingjue’s father, but Nie Mingjue decided that there was only to be death for anyone related to the Wen. They didn’t have to do anything, even if they tried to stop him it wouldn’t be enough. Only the death of every Wen would slake that hunger, and then in death when he is driven only by that hunger, only the death of every Jin. Including the ones who weren’t even old enough to hold a sword at the time he died. Jin Ling is as good as Jin Guangyao for Nie Mingjue to kill. All that matters is that he’s connected. All that matters is that there is another body to feed the never ending hate that fills him.

Xiao Xingchen says that for Xue Yang to take a finger or an arm from the man who harmed him as a child is reasonable. Even to kill him if that is truly the only way to end his hatred. But what is a finger to an entire family? “Because it is mine!” Declares Xue Yang and this is where the crux of it lies. “It is my hatred, it is my anger. It is my right to kill anyone because I am angry and I refuse to let it go.” This is the trait that Jiang Cheng, Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang all share. “I am angry and I am hurt so it is my right to do as I will and no one should take that away from me or I will hurt them too.”

This is why they are antagonists. This is why two of the three of them end up dead. This is why Jiang Cheng staying his hand in the temple and Wei Wuxian’s mercy towards him is the only reason that he survives the end. You can’t ask the world to feed your endless hatred. Eventually you will hurt the wrong person and by the very laws that you and the world have set, will come for you. There is no such thing as bloodshed without pain. There are people who will miss those who are gone. And not all of them will be as good as Lan Wangji. Not all of them will move forward in their lives and ignore you. Sometimes the oriole will stalk you in the shadows, waiting for the moment the praying mantis slips up. The wheel ever turns and those on the bottom eventually rise up.

Now as for Wei Wuxian, we see a different answer on him from the others and this is where his morals really come into play. Cause at first he does exact justice for those lost at Lotus Pier. Steps in which the narrative does not fully condemn him, but suggests lightly that it is the sort of thing that he does not linger in, as well as he himself looks back and decides that maybe he did go too far then. Maybe he did do too much in the name of anger and justice. Three months after the event he is willing to kill and torture Wen Zhuliu and Wen Chao. But three years later he looks at the members of the family that killed his and goes “I do not love you. But this is not right. You do not deserve this. I will not let you suffer this any longer even though your name is Wen.”

For Wei Wuxian, the line ends at the end of war, at the deaths of those who directly caused him the most pain. He does not necessarily forgive or absolve. But he does recognize that there is no sense in continuing the bloodshed or allowing others to continue it out of some misplaced sense of vengeance. He is offered a chance to stop the wheel and he tries. He tries so goddamn hard. He tries until it kills him and everyone else he protects because the anger of the rest is too wrapped up in their self righteousness to examine what is reasonable and what is the cost for what they do.

I do not exonerate the Lan here, but I do point out that they at least actually make an attempt to change things afterwards. We see it in the way that Lan Wangji continues to act in the world. We see it in the way that Lan Xichen stops and reconsiders what he knows of Wei Wuxian, and helps him when the wheel attempts to spin back to where it was before. Where the juniors go out hunting on their own to help people of all kinds. They find weird mysteries and they follow them, they are kind to all. It does not absolve what they have done in the past, it does not make them blameless.

But it is a start. And one that Jiang Cheng has not taken. If he had, we wouldn’t be having these debates and arguments about what is a reasonable enough amount of death and destruction that he can cause on account of his past.

This is where the line is.

Modaozushi asks the question of how much death is enough and concludes at the line “when you continue to court death to satisfy your anger, you will eventually find death standing at your door too.” It happens to Xue Yang, who after killing Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing and everyone in Yi City, finds A-Qing’s ghost leading those who can end his hurting of others for good. It happens to Jin Guangyao who assassinates and hurts so many people that Nie Huaisang finds allies in Mo Xuanyu, Sisi and Bicao, all of whom are willing to help him drag Jin Guangyao to the depths by the chains of his reputation.

Jiang Cheng is offered another chance. Leave Wei Wuxian alone and move forwards with his life. At the end of the book he accepts that chance. It is probably the last one he will get, but he accepts it. This is why he finishes out the book alive no matter how much blood he has on his hands. You can always change your actions until you are dead.

This is the question that Modaozushi posits and answers to all of us and to which I now offer to you when you consider the actions in story. What is enough? How much blood must be spilled before you are happy?

Why does it matter to you that those who are hurt are allowed to hurt without consequence? Where do you draw the line when all of those who caused you pain in the past are buried?

What is the price that you demand for your happiness? When is there enough blood on your hands to be happy?

When do you say “there has been enough death. I will stop this here and now because it is enough.”

Will you be the hero or the antagonist in someone else’s story?

[quitealotofsodapop]

That's an interesting thought. What are the differences between demon monkeys, specifically stone monkeys, and their none demonic counterparts? Obviously, the parent does abandon the egg but they may tend to expect their troop to take a larger role in raising the child, especially if they aren't sure if they'd survive the egg making process if they didn't have a mate. Also, I wouldn't be surprised if they mated for life since you can definitely see it with Wukong and Macaque even when they hated each other. So perhaps, with a normal pregnancy, a stone monkey would expect the majority of the parenting to come from their partner, not for lack of care, but rather because even a normal pregnancy is somewhat risky for the species.

There's a reason there are so few nowadays, and their struggles with pregnancy is a big part of it.

They have strong paternal and maternal instincts, especially those born of the more feminine side of the elements. That's why Wukong could never bear to hurt something cute like a bunny robot and why things like puppy eyes are so effective on him. He's of the Earth Element. Even if he himself identifies as primarily male, he will still have heavy maternal instincts.

It also is why he knew from a very young age that he wanted to be a parent.

referencing this post on Stone Monkey and Monkey demon social dynamics vs irl monkeys.

Stone Monkeys live in wide social troops with no clear ranking system apart from "who can do X task rn?" since they originated in a less kindly world (pre Great Flood) and having healthy babies was super taxing biologically. Family ties very important - older kids will stay with parental troop their whole lives save for when they search for a mate (sometimes they dont even have to do that since inter-troop mingling is encouraged) or when they hear the call of adventure/ leave to explore for potiential new nesting grounds.

Stone Monkeys also typically mate for life.

Which is *why* Stone Eggs evolved in the first place.

Consider this;

Monkey A & B are a mated pair. B dies due to illness or attack or old age, and A is super sad and doesn't have any cubs to care for. A then decides to bury themselves with their deceased mate so that they can reunite in some way. Add in some sympathetic death/life god blessing the species and you got an Egg! Formed from the combined dao of the parents - it gives the A & B a last shot in the dark to continue their genetic lineage! The troop can care for the baby, cus clearly it's part of the family, and the cub will (hopefully) grow up to pair up and make cubs of their own.

BUT...

Say the whole troop was wiped out by something that left Monkey A the last survivor? Illness, massacre, a certain Great Flood, etc...

Thats where the "*Stone* Egg" comes in again. By developing and incubating slowly underground and adsorbing natural life energy, the baby can stay cooking for a long time until another troop comes across it. Stone Monkeys you see, love digging and can sense odd sources of energy hidden beneath the ground. A troop member digs up a weird egg-shaped object within or next to the fossil of another monkey? Not hard to put two and two together. Also helps potientially "wake up" the parent whos body has been in biological torpor for a long time. The stone egg parent may be able to recover from the process and help raise cubs in the new troop. The egg's parent *may* be able to move on from their former mate and/or find one in this troop, but its uncommon for widowed stone monkeys to "remarry".

In terms of parenting structure; Stone Monkeys prefer to have it equally split between the parents/mated pair with older kids and troop members pitching in. In the case of pregnancy/surviving a Stone egg, the birth parent is allowed some vacation time from the baby as the other parent picks up the slack. +This is inspired by irl Golden Lion Tamarins and Pygmy Marmosets, where the dad and troop all pitch in to help raise the babies while the mom recovers from the very taxing birth. Dad monkeys even train to gain muscle so that they can carry the babies for Mom when they arrive. They even midwife for their mate when they go into labor.

And as for literally mating for life? Its the norm. Some Stone Monkeys simply never settle down or dont have a life mate at all. But the ones who do? It's almost supernatural levels of devoted.

Wukong and Macaque are unknowingly "soulmates" in the most literal sense of the word. Their Stone Monkey instincts tell them "this is the one" and to make it Work, because its the greatest chance for genetic success/survival in addition to genuinely being in love with one another.

So it was devastating for both when jealously, anger, and the interference of the gods caused the two to split so many times in their lives. Even when they "broke up" under the Mountain, they knew the other would be their only mate even without knowledge of Stone Monkey social structures. Which made it even worse due to a certain fight they had later on in the Journey...

As for maternal/parental instincts? Super duper high. Stone Monkeys again, pitch in to take care of the troops babies to give the parents a break. They also naturally adopt orphan cubs; makes more sense to adopt when pregnancy is so dangerous for the parent and there's a perfectly good baby without a parent right there! And those on the more "Yin"-side of the gender trigram tend to go full "mom-mode" on babies that aren't theirs, their bodies even reacting to an adopted baby as if it were born from them.

Which causes some issues regarding Stone Monkeys considering anything vaguely monkey-like without a parent to be potientally their new baby. Regular earth Monkey Demons probably have old forgotten nicknames for Stone Monkeys that roughly translate to "den mothers" or even "the nannies".

So SWK's reaction to the bunny mechs on the Moon? Typical Stone Monkey behavior.

Even if MK aint Wukong's bio-kid, he certainly became part of his troop the moment he saw him.

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

Hi! Just read this fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/33748141) and the post that inspired it (https://ladycrimsonandblack.tumblr.com/post/658164849325604866/brawltogethernow-brawltogethernow-tama-gives), and was wondering if you knew any other fics where Luffy is a Fae or a Changeling or just not really human? Thanks!

Hello ! Sorry this took us a while, as it seems there are very few fics that fall under that category, but here's what we've got for you:

The closest that comes to mind is :

Wild Wind At Dressrosa by khepiari (M)

[Mod notes: I am personally recommending this one as it is set in a world of magical realism. Luffy is not explicitly a magical creature, but there is certainly a certain magic and mystery surrounding him, which gives this story a whole air of surrealness and fairy tales.]

Doflamingo has troubles- to govern Dressrosa, collect taxes for the King, a womanizing Secretary, a stupid Brother, an angry Wife and a Rebelling Son who is romancing the Biggest Troublemaker- a Wayfaring Godless Curio-Shopkeeper, who is storming the calm streets of Dressrosa. Law's heart is hell-bent to unite with the Wild Wind called Monkey D Luffy- a tale of food, books, friendship and love.

The Moonwitch And His Dumb Werewolf (also) by khepiari (T)

A.U., Fantasy. Happy Ending. Three Part. LawLu (Switch Couple) When his village gets burned down and family captured by the bounty hunters, a young werewolf pup, Luffy, finds himself in the protection of a witch boy named Law and his father Corazon. As the war ravages, the magical creatures must unite to fight their biggest enemies; humans.

Perfect Completion by quackquackcey (E)

Water sprite Luffy curiously happens upon a gathering of vampires and falls at first sight for a certain golden-eyed vampire…but will his feelings be returned?~

A Crown of Flowers by @hyperbolicreverie (M)

The Wild is a mirror, a magic realm of possibility parallel to the mundane one, and people like Luffy, changelings who've made a devil's bargain for power, walk the line between worlds daily. When Luffy makes a mad dash to rescue his brother from certain death, he sets off a chain of events that makes the very foundations of that realm shudder. Soon, he's got several other people along for the ride, and the situation quickly spirals out of control. There's something the people in power aren't saying, and it might be the key to all the strange events that keep happening around them. Luffy just wants adventure and fun and freedom. Law just wants to be left alone to live his life. Kid wants to never be beholden to someone else again. And Ace just wants some goddamn agency for once. But there are other entities in the Wild with agendas of their own, and they don't care about what others want at all.

How To Snare A Life by xairylle (E)

Accidentally ensnaring a parasitic sexual demon and being his host wasn't exactly how Law wanted to end his night or his life for that matter. LawLu/LuLaw.

A Fleeting Moment (When the Sun Can Kiss the Moon) by purplehairedwonder (T)

Once upon a time, the Sun fell in love with the Moon.

[We also recommend checking the #Sun God Luffy tag for godly Luffy material.

And finally, not Fae Luffy, but we'd like to recommend Fae Law]

To Give You My Name by cosmicatta (M)

Trafalgar Law, last of the faes, had committed a fatal mistake 15 years ago: he had given Doflamingo his full name. Now, even after having escaped, the looming threat of his ownership still follows Law everyhwere he goes. He can only try to survive as a runaway, hoping to, someday, find a way to cut the invisible string tying him to his former captor. Until he meets Luffy. He’s just a regular human. But maybe that’s all Law needs.

And, ofc, the one you recommended:

waters of the wild by ladycrimsonandblack (T)

Even to his nakama, Luffy sometimes appears just a little bit too odd. (Or: Five times a Straw Hat notices something strange about Luffy, and the one time someone knows what's going on.)

We're also happy to tell you that your ask prompted some of our writers to give Fae Luffy a shot, so expect some new fics under that tag soon enough.

-Mod Gigi

[animentality]

Maybe a hot take, but I think Durge is the real protagonist of BG3. Like... I'm sorry, everyone love their Tavs, but from a narrative point of view, it doesn't have fucking sense. It's just another guy (gender neutral) in a The Choosen One situation. I've read this story before, hundreds of times. But Durge's recepción (or disgrace)... now that has juice! That makes sense on a narrative level. You started it, you end it, one way or another.

Anyway, I'm never (with my +500 hours) going to play a Tav run. Ever. Origins only, mostly Durge. Durge and Durgetash are waaaaay better, sorry not sorry.

You are spitting nothing but facts, anon.

You wanna know what the HONEST to GOD fundamental problem is with the writing of Baldur's Gate 3?

It's that it spreads itself so thin, desperately attempting to write an open sandbox sort of world in which ANY kind of character can fit in...that it ends up being this hollow nothing.

IMAGINE if the Dark Urge WAS the default protagonist. It WOULD'VE BEEN an amazing story, if it had been given the focus it deserved, instead of just blankly repeating the SAME dialogue you'd get as a Tav and as an origin.

The idea of a former villain turned amnesiac, and going on an adventure, learning about themselves from the perspective of an outsider and seeing firsthand the horror they've wrought? It's like a fucking Zuko arc, except finding out you were the Big Bad all along could've been written even better than that...

We could've had that blank, nothing slate that Tavs start out as...and then find out, that it has thematic significance, because WE CHOOSE who we become, after a childhood/adulthood of being unable to make our own choices, and being forced into the role of the villain before the game even starts.

It's a MUCH BETTER WAY to give people a blank slate to work with, for the fun of roleplaying, but ALSO asserting a particular theme. Which is, the gravity of your choices, big and small. To do good or to embrace evil.

YOU KNOW. How Baldur's Gate 1 and 2 did being a Bhaalspawn.

IT'S ALSO A REALLY GREAT WAY to DO an RPG because yes, you slightly infringe upon the freedom of the customizable characters a person can make, but in exchange, you actually tell a fucking story where choices are the main theme.

INSTEAD. Because they were so dedicated to Tavs and the variety of ways you could play as a Tav...they completely undersell and underutilize what could've been a really amazing character.

You can literally choose to DIE for your friends in the end...and then what?

Withers brings you back in five seconds, no one has any real reaction to you doing that, except saying good job buddy :)

And then you're basically a Tav.

And ALSO. I want to say this, because it's been bothering me.

The Dark Urge has Tav syndrome too.

They have TWO notes in the entire game that we have to read into to try and glean a greater depth to their character other than murder hobo.

And that's it. They're a blank slate too.

If the Dark Urge was the protagonist, we might've been able to look into who they were before, outside of just laughably evil flesh eating monster.

They might've had real fucking depth, instead of just tidbits.

I and my fellow Dark Urge/ Durgetash enjoyers have to do the fucking work for them and write in stuff that isn't actually there. The Dark Urge as a protagonist could've been really meaningful. We could've seen inklings that they had misgivings about being Bhaal's Chosen. We could've seen scars of resistance, where they tried to defy Bhaal, but were punished with death, disintegration by the loving hands of your own father and flesh. We could've had betrayal, redemption, loyalty to one's blood family vs one's found family.

But we don't get that, because it's taking too much time away from Tavs.

Sometimes I really wish the Dark Urge wasn't even an option. They gave me this thing, and I thought wow this is the only way to play the game...and then I look and see, ah. But the potential for greatness could drive me absolutely insane.

And it has.

Durgetash is the product of my frustration with the game's characterization of the Dark Urge.

And I know I'm pissing off the salty BG3 fans who love their Tavs and all, and think the Dark Urge is lame, and god FORBID a protagonist have a character, can't have that in an RPG, but I can't find it in myself to care.

I'm built different than the rest of y'all. I don't just feed on content, I analyze its nutrients. I calculate how good for me it actually is.

And BG3 has wonderful mechanics.

But the story has so many problems, from beginning to rotten end.

And it is what it is. I still enjoyed myself playing it.

But the story isn't good for anything except allowing you to create a far more compelling story on your own, in fanfic or in original work inspired by it.

And I guess if that's all they wanted, then fine.

But goddamnit, I'm gonna complain anyway! Divinity 2 did it fucking better.