#but she chooses hope and not despair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

randomshyperson · 2 months

Text

I'll Crawl Home To Her - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: A rewrite of the fight scene in WandaVision, with a less aggressive but equally painful discussion.

Warnings: canon-typical Westview angst, talking about magical submission and free will, established relationship, some grief mentions, rough kissing just because I can, love confessions/reaffirmations | Words: 1.644k

A/N-> I'm just rewriting loose scenes from WandaVison, none of which are really going to end up in anything bigger. But I hope it's a decent read.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

“It’s not often that you get a dog and bury them the same day.”

To your line, Wanda could have chosen to mumble in agreement. She could have said she was sorry, or she could have chosen to remain silent.

Instead, she chooses sarcasm, as if she had a good idea of how ridiculous everything was starting to get around that town.

“Well, life moves pretty fast out in the suburbs.”

You end up sighing, able to feel the anger slowly building up in you. Wanda continues to put toys away, and you decide to wipe your hands on the nearest dishcloth before turning to your wife.

"I spoke to Norm this morning." You start with a serious look on your face, and Wanda, oh your beautiful, stubborn wife, makes a mocking expression. You don't understand why she's acting this way. "He told me things that really frightened me, Wanda."

It was her turn to take a deep breath, the confidence in her expression wavering for a second. There was only one balcony between the two of you, but somehow the emotional distance was immeasurably greater.

Wanda looks you in the eye. "What's that supposed to mean, darling?"

“You tell me.” You hit back without hesitation. But what you get from Wanda is a tired sigh, falsely innocent.

"I didn't know it was charades night again." She continues to mock.

You can't remember if Wanda was ever cruel, but it's a fact that you can't remember anything that happened before Westview.

"I got scared because he was scared, Wanda!" You insist, approaching the counter to lean on one hand, while the other gestures your despair. "It was like a different person, a real, suppressed personality crying out to be released. It was accidental, of course, to discover this. But I'm not an idiot, Wanda. I can see what you're doing. The things that are changing around us every time something gets out of your control. And I don't understand why, and you won't talk to me, and I'm so scared!"

The tears in your eyes match hers. "Stop." She pleads earnestly, but you shake your head.

"You don't want this." You say.

Despite the emotion in her eyes, and the thick tears, Wanda gives a short, ironic laugh, her head tilting slightly. "Don't I?"

"If you did, I wouldn't know. I wouldn't be able to see, to question.” You sigh.”You’ve always been so... extraordinary." Her expression suddenly flinches at the compliment. "Your abilities, your power, I can't tell what happened before this place, but I know about now. There's not a trace of doubt in my mind about you, about how magnificently powerful I've always perceived you to be. Not even about how much I love and trust you." Wanda swallows dryly at your words, but you give a sad sigh. "Then I don't understand why you keep letting me see the flaws. If you're going to lie to me, leave me in the dark. Because I think I'm losing my mind little by little. I can't ignore the suffering of those people, and I can't ignore the uncertainty that grows in my chest every second. I can't remember anything, Wanda. I see those pictures on our walls, those fabricated memories, and nothing reaches me. I can't even recall if I had any kind of family before this place."

Wanda comes around the counter with a certain desperation, her hands reaching for your face. "You have a family. Me and the boys, why can't that be enough?"

Your hands reach for hers. "It's not that, sweetheart. Our family is perfect. This life is the closest to heaven I could get. But I can't be at peace with it at the cost of other people's suffering. I can't ignore their pain."

"I'll help you think of something else." She responds with a nod, pulling your face in to kiss you firmly.

Kissing Wanda has always been intoxicating, a sensation that's easy to get lost in. But fresh in your mind is your coworker, terrified and begging you to get away from this place. Get away from your wife.

You pull away, breaking the kiss and ignoring the way your whole body protests. Wanda is equally out of breath, but the gleam in her eyes hides a deep irritation.

"Wanda, I-

"Save it." She interrupts, turning her back on you. You catch a glimpse of a new form of anger and hurt in her eyes at being rejected. You sigh impatiently, following her instantly.

"You're not going to run away from this conversation, Wanda, I need to know what's going on in this place!" You practically beg, yelling at her back because Wanda just keeps walking towards the stairs. You huff angrily and teleport immediately into her path. She jumps slightly in fright, grimacing with impatience and taking two steps backward, away from the steps as you insist; "Please. Talk to me."

"There's nothing to say if you don't believe me when I tell you there's nothing wrong." But you shake your head at the words, one hand pulling your hair back. Wanda chuckles humorlessly. "See, you already have an opinion on the subject. On me. I'm already the villain in your story, darling, so why don't you keep digging behind my back and end this whole thing?"

She mentions going upstairs again, but you stand in her way, one hand pulling her face towards yours. The kiss is more intense than the one in the kitchen, heated enough for Wanda to gasp into your mouth.

She's ready to reciprocate with the same eagerness when you break it, the hand on her cheek caressing her skin.

"Because I love you, Wanda Maximoff." You whisper against her lips, and it's not just the words, but the devotion in your gaze that makes Wanda's legs wobble. You offer her a small smile, an air of lost battle in your expression. "There is no part of me that would plan and act against you. Even here, with the truth scratching at the walls, where I could if I wanted to access the suffering of these people, I wouldn't turn against you. I can only beg for a little mercy, my love. Take the pain away from me, the doubt. I will be loyal and complicit in any of your desires and decisions."

Wanda sobs, hugging you before you can say anything. You can't remember anything that came before, but she can, as clearly as if she were there. And Wanda loved every trace of your old self as much as she loves this Westview version, willing to do anything she asks. It's not so different from the person she lost, with the most striking exception that makes it clear in that moment, that nothing could ever replace the real you.

You would have taken Wanda out of that fantasy. For better or worse, even if she hated you afterward, even if she never forgave you, you wouldn't let her cross lines through grief, you wouldn't let her lose herself again. After all, that's what you swore to do after witnessing first-hand all the guilt she carried for Ultron's madness and the accident in Lagos. Your true version would never let her drown in sorrow and hurt people again.

But the Westview version, so sweet and devoted, would stroke her back and say the same thing you always used to say, even if now you can't remember it.

"I'm sorry if I made you cry, princess, I never meant to. Look at me so I can bring your smile back."

Wanda holds on a little tighter, tears staining your blouse. The vast majority of the times she had heard this phrase, it had been at much less dramatic moments. While she had a passion for sitcoms and things that made her laugh, you liked more emotional movies that could make you cry. And every time you had a movie session, you would tell her that, easily achieving your goal of putting a smile on your girlfriend's face. But there were also times when the situations were dramatic - a poorly planned workout where Wanda ended up hurting you and tears of guilt escaped her and you tried to make her feel better by saying that same phrase. Or when you had a fight and it got a bit out of hand, and you started your apologies that way.

Or when Thanos took you from her, and Wanda had to hear it twice because of a time stone.

She doesn't want to hear it for a third occasion.

You're ready to say something, maybe apologize, when Wanda breaks the hug. But she holds your cheeks and presses her mouth to yours. Slowly, allowing you to taste even the saltiness of her tears. There's a shaky sigh escaping from between your lips as she breaks away again, but your affected gaze changes to a curious one as red irises stare back at you.

"I'll make it better." She whispers, nodding slightly. You swallow dry, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against hers.

The only thing you whisper is exactly what makes her hesitate. "I trust you, Wanda."

She ignores the internal conflict and lifts one of her hands to stroke the back of your neck. It must be easy, especially within Hex, to change your mind. To make you no longer question.

You repeat that you love her, and Wanda brings trembling fingers to your forehead.

She suddenly becomes very aware that consciously, she could never do that to you. She would rather you found out everything and hated her than take away your free will. To turn you into another puppet.

She sighs shakily, ready to say she'll put an end to this whole place when the doorbell rings.

Nothing could prepare her for seeing her twin brother again, but that's another story. Besides, not that Wanda has any idea, far away from there, a fallen Avenger is being stitched back together while calling her name in their sleep.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel imagines

493 notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

Text

The Horror and the Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader]

It's time for the wedding - and the wedding night. Emperor is going to make sure you will bear his offsprings by the end of the night. Tags and TW: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator AO3

You weren’t saved from the humiliation of a public wedding.

You weren’t saved the torture of picking the flowers as you were choosing the attire to your own funeral – and you weren’t saved your innocence by allowing yourself to ignore all the handmaidens and their horrible, disgusting picture books about penetration, pools of blood and hell that is saved between the legs of a man.

“My condolences, dear princess. For your parents. And congratulations on your wedding. Our deepest hopes go to your coronation, Empress.” “From the king of South, we send our sheerest condolences. And congratulations on the wedding.” “May your parents rest in peace. And glory to the Emperor.” “Grief surely suits you, Dear Empress. As well as the crown.”

You think you might puke right in your royal garments, looking at all of the royal visitors.

King Price of Southern Kingdom, with all of his knights – you do not know if you can find solace in the girl clinging to the hand of his masked knight, the stench of death filling you with calmness that you don’t know how to deal with. The girl is terrified, just like you – if you may, you’re probably the same age, that years of servitude grazing in the hands that are covered by the sheerest amounts of gloves.

The lady – you don’t know her name, and you doubt that any woman in this hall is even allowed to have one other than her husband’s – is looking at you with understanding. You think you might actually die.

— Lady Ryley?

She smiles, and before you can go to her – hold her hands, ask her to disappear with you, maybe run away somewhere, you don’t even know where – the masked knight already drags her away, a firm hand on her shoulder. You’re alone, the weight of the royal robe is pinning you to the floor.

You are dressed in black as the only form of rebellion – guests must assume you’re still mourning your parents, the grief in their eyes is mixed with congratulations on the Empire finally getting prospects of offspring – you hope you’d tore your womb from your body before König could lay his hands on you. Guests may assume that the wedding is a tab bit strange, maybe somewhat unusual for the emperor to marry someone of your status – tiny kingdom, no worthwhile resources, and almost zero prospects for trade. Maybe, you were the only treasure this kingdom ever had to sell so eagerly.

König holds your hands because you know that you would try to run the second he is letting you go. You know he knows this, too. Guests may assume that he is being protective of his young wife – assassins aren’t unheard of in these places, after all, you were the empress now. The much smarter guests knew what kind of looks you gave him – perhaps, you had the best options at killing the notorious emperor right after he robbed you of the last remains of your dignity.

You smile and wave like a damned pampered pigeon, pretty and useless, all dressed up in bows and black pearls, dark stones illuminating the depths of your despair – only the monster you had for a husband would even consider ordering a mourning dress this beautiful. You’re almost ashamed of wanting to paint it red – you almost feel bad while holding the butter knife and thinking about plunging it into your chest, ripping away all the delicate laces and ornaments that cut through your skin each time you breathe a bit too freely.

— You look divine in this dress, meine Liebe.

He smiles, you know he is – he didn’t forget about his damn hood even on his own wedding, but he holds you dearly, but he smiles with his eyes, an eerie sense of happiness that makes every guest shake in their seats. The Ruler of the Empire doesn’t smile. Not at his wife, who looks like she would rather kill herself, for sure – but he smiles as you say your wows, knowing full well you are not going to fulfill them, but he laughs when the priest stutters once you refused to say you do the first time – König has to squeeze your hands, reminding you of your place. Even your stubbornness has a limit, apparently.

His lips are dry and chastity.

König knows he can’t kiss you like he wants to – too many guests, too many pricks, thinking they have a look on his wife. If it weren’t for the admirers and desperate rulers of foreign lands, trying to force their songs and daughters to marry him out of a pathetic attempt at saving their countries, he wouldn’t even think about a public wedding. If it weren’t for the annoyance of constantly swatting the offers away, he would never allow the world to see you. Not how beautiful you look, not how pretty your eyes are, glistening with tears, not how much he just wanted to smother you with affection like there isn’t anyone around.

Hells, if he knew so many people would accept the short notice for an invitation, he would invade their kingdoms while they were away at his wedding.

König holds your face in his hands, the contrast between soft skin and his gloves is making you shiver – he pushes his hood up, even just for a little bit, and the only thing that is ever revealed to the audience is the scars on his chin and sudden dryness of his lips. He thought he overcame his childish anxiety when he was still a tiny bird stuck in his adolescence – but he looks at you, his pretty little princess, and his hands are shaking from the anticipation of a kiss.

The guests will assume you’re crying because you love him so, so much.

The Emperor knows better, kissing the tears from your lips like it was the sweetest treat around.

*** You thought you were smart.

You really did.

Such a slick motion, such an easy task – the girl coming with Knight Riley, the weak one, with trembling hands and face that spoke of innocence of lambs and with calloused hands of a fellow worker, took your hand as you were leaving. The veil of laughs and jokes about finally conceiving a worthy heir for the empire made you shiver from horror – and the girl swatted you to her side, a single sleight of hand putting…something in your palms.

Some sort of plant – dried, smelling of something sweet and edible, flowers that would feel crispy on your tongue. She smiles softly, her hands are gentle on yours – she whispers in your ear before your respective monsters can catch you and throw you in their layers again.

She said, it was mercy.

She said, it would make -it- feel quick and easy.

You hoped, it was a poison.

It had to be, you wouldn’t accept anything else – the desire to die and fulfill the destiny of a loyal servant, the whispers of the god of dignified death – you may not see the sweetness of the afterlife with your Princess, but killing oneself to save their bodies from being violated is a worthy fate for any. You pushed the plant in your mouth as swiftly as possible, chewing on the dried grass and crispy flowers, hoping the effect would be immediate.

You’re bathed and oiled like a pig for devour, short for the apple stuffed in your mouth – instead, you have forced a mouthful of wine, goblets after goblets. To ease the tension of the first night, the servants said, smiling understandably. You feel warm, you feel dizzy, you feel hellishly feverish, and it couldn’t be just from the alcohol – you close your eyes and hope that the plant took its way finally, releasing you from the shell of the mortal life. You’re dressed up in pretty garments, skimpy as something that the empress should never wear – you feel like a cheap whore when your skin is glossy with oils and decorated with flowers.

Just before you started chewing on them too, your husband finally arrived.

You hoped you’d be dead before ever seeing him naked again – but you’re forced to watch his muscles tense as the only thing saving his lack of dignity is the smallest ever piece of undergarments. It doesn’t help in hiding his arousal, the monstrosity between his legs. You knew you would have to die before he is ever putting anything in you – but you see the outline of his manhood, poking from the side of a simple cloth, and somehow, you feel hotter than before.

You blame it on the wine, you blame it on the poison you took. The warmness is spreading in your tummy to your lower areas, forcing its way to moisture your garments, a wet spot, embarrassingly big for an Empress, is slowly spreading between your oiled, scented legs. You’re nothing but a feast for him, a pretty little snack – you knew how much he liked to eat, after all. What great talent he had in forcing your legs apart and showing his head between them, that sinful tongue of his speaking of prayers and soft little blasphemies in the sweetness of your maidenhood.

— You’re burning, little princess.

You hoped it’s the poison working.

For a second, he placed his hand on your forehead and caressed it softly, accessing your temperature. For a second, the cold of his hands made you nuzzle into his palm like a cat that was fed nothing but the finest pieces of meat by the hand that was ready to skin it for its skin. For a second, you hoped that his embrace alone would be enough to kill you.

If you die, which you must do, you wish it would be with his hands holding you softly.

— A virgin fewer? I thought you’d know what we’re going to do by now, little prin…

— Don’t stop be from dying.

You let go of those words before you could claim your silence.

König’s hands are grasping you immediately, a finger lays in your mouth, making you gag – you open your lips from instinct, no matter how much you want to stop him from ever entering your mouth. He is weirdly smooth with you, the other hand going to grab your waist and press you on the bed – like you ever had a chance to stand against him and run away. Like he didn’t have a row of guards just outside the door.

— Dying? Scheisse, dumme What did you do?

He quickly grasped your tongue, the traces of the flower still lingered on your teeth, on the further corners of your mouth – you didn’t know if you had to spit it out or eat it whole, and you didn’t want to guess in the matters of death and loss of dignity. You gag on his fingers as he laughs – an unusual sound. First, the smiles and happiness in his voice, the rings and chains he put you in, and now laugh? Perhaps you died already, and this is your eternal damnation.

— Let go of me! You have no…

— Were you still so scared, Liebling?

— I wasn’t…what do you mean, Your Highness?

The title is good, the title puts some distance between you and him. Only imaginary – he is still as close as possible, hands on your body, wiping the traces of the flowers on the silk sheets and holding you in his embrace again, as tight as he possibly can. You feel ill, you feel hot, every time he puts his hands on you, you can feel your core throbbing, the poison making you dizzy and dumb.

You almost feel like begging him to touch you again – and again, and again. König, for one, can’t wait to watch.

— I wonder where you got it. Such a clever Katzen, ja? Eating aphrodisiacs before her wedding night, like I would just mount you like an animal without preparing my wife?

He laughs and laughs, hand in your hair, petting you gently like you truly were a cat. You’re dumbfounded, the fewer makes everything make less and less sense. You close your eyes, you open your eyes – you feel him on you. Looking, watching, observing, you want him to stop, and you want him to rip away those stupid garments and touch you, as he did in that dim hallway, to push his masterful, sinful tongue down your folds and treat you like a…

You whimper as you fell on the sheets, truly embracing the cat in-heat stance you were for the last few minutes. You roll on the sheets, smooth silk makes your core cool just a bit, the pressure only building with each time you try to hump the sheets, not caring anymore if you were behaving like an animal.

Perhaps, the Knight’s maiden really wanted to make everything easier for you – just in her own way.

— Wh…what have you done to me?

He is bracing his hands between your legs, lingering touches on the wetness of your garments, making you both shiver in anticipation. He is forcing his tongue on you, the immediate pressure making you meow from the sensation. You hate it, you hate it, you have to hate it because if you don’t, then what the hell are you even doing. It’s too much and too little, it does nothing to relief the warmth between your legs, only making you wetter with each stroke of his wide, warm tongue. — I haven’t done anything, little princess. You just want me.

— I would never want you.

— I can stop.

You snap your legs around his neck before he can withdraw his face.

König is laughing, the sheer adorableness of your expression making him want you even more. You look perfect, so lost in desire for him – gods, he just wanted to devour you, to strip you of all you worth and make you his just as much as he is yours. But simply pleasing you with his tongue won’t ever be enough for this night – he had waited for so long, too long, disgustingly long, he had to have you in every way possible. If he won’t consummate the marriage today, he might as well just die.

Other night, he will make you beg – plead for him to give you his cock, push the throbbing member in your trembling folds, snap the pleasure from your hands and force you to accept being his wife. The other night, he could wait and tease you for as long as possible. The other night…

He doesn’t have the patience for this night – he can’t even kiss you now, the mere feeling of your trembling lips would snap him beyond repair. It’s unfair to you, little princess, his desire is too much for someone like you to take – alas, he has to have you. Alas, he will have you, one way or the other, even if he’d have to push your pretty head into the pillows and force his manhood between your folds.

But you plead for him, the desire in your eyes, mixed with fear and anticipation, is enough for him to laugh again, his hand squeezing your chest. You look divine, absolutely – you would look even better when properly bred, tits full of milk, and belly swollen with his little soldiers. Emperor never thought of getting an offspring, always knew his fate was to fall into obscurity with the country he created, but you have wide hips, a soft belly, and warm hands – all the requirements of a mother. But you have the submissiveness of a pet and the wit of a wife.

But he can’t wait to push his seed into you – with a groan, before you could even lay your eyes on his cock, he is already forcing it in, ravaging all the resistance you once had.

The plant made you warm, aroused, and wet enough to be dripping when he first pushed his cockhead between your glistening folds. You cry, the feeling of being intruded, ravaged, bot entirely painful, but now very pleasant either, is nothing you were expecting of the first night with your husband. You were expecting screaming, pools of blood, half of your organs falling out from the newly made hole between your legs.

You just feel…intruded. The knot in your stomach is as tight as ever, even as König gives you a few minutes to adjust, the outline of his manhood throbbing in your tummy. You don’t even want to look at him, and he allows you to drift into a trance, the aphrodisiac you took doing all the job of preparation for him.

He is feeling you, raw and sensitive, your maidenhood is dripping down your thighs and his cock as he wasn’t exactly gentle – he will be the next night, and the night after, and after, he will promise to take care of you, little princess, but this night is about taking what belongs to him – and he will never allow you to keep your dignity when you can simply be his dumb, adorable wife.

— You’re so…heavens, princess, you’re strangling me.

He laughs, struggling to push in and out, his hand finding its place on your folds, playing and tugging with your swollen little clit. The bud is wet, no matter the pain you’re experiencing – the drug won’t allow you to stop wanting it, wanting him, König knows it’s not genuine, he has to work to make you this aroused, but for now, it will work. He doesn’t want you to feel pain – and he will make sure you’re able to take him.

— Too much, it’s…stop, wait, I am…

— You can take it, Schatzi.

— I can’t! — You will.

You whimper under him, you cry under him, he only continues to move, tearing your loyalty to your kingdom with each harsh thrust. You came to this room wanting to die, but now you feel your hands wrapping around his neck, your hips buckling to meet his, to bring the overcoming pleasure like König isn’t the one to tear you apart – you feel raw, you feel tainted, the pleasure in your folds is nothing what you ever had before.

You’re betraying yourself with each moan and each whimper – you find yourself begging for him, the tears of yours is not just from pain anymore. He kisses you, rough lips on your mouth, making sure you’re as prepared for him as he is, you want for him to stop, but you plead with him to continue.

— Stop already…I…

— I only came twice, little princess. And you – trice. Doesn’t feel fair, ja? — ‘s not, I can’t take it anymore…

— I will breed you, Schatzen. Until you’re swollen with my sons. — It w…won’t be royal children…

— Ach, my blood is enough to make a dog royal. — But…

— I will breed you, little princess. You can stop pretending you don’t want it.

You’re not even sure at what orgasm you are already – you feel like he came already, the wetness in your cunt should be evident of his already breeding you quite a few times, but the time is a blur when every time you cum, your vision blurs and your brain becomes foggier and foggier.

König knows you will look perfect, all thoughtless and swollen with his children – not now, maybe, with a few elixirs to enhance your ability to bear children, but he can’t wait till you’re done. You might not like it at first, princesses do tend to be just a bit dumb when it comes to their duties, but there is something in your eyes that is telling him you’re going to bring him sons just like a good girl you are. Just like he expects you to do, your pretty tummy all swollen, and your body is barely handling the passion of his lovemaking. Gods, he knew you would be worth it. Even if, to his knowledge, you’re not a princess at all.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #konig x you #konig x y/n #konig cod #male yandere #yandere male

1K notes · View notes

cheapshrimpysheep · 10 months

Note

Ghost Bride themed request: Instead of Idia being at risk of being whisked away to Unholy matrimony, it is instead the reader, A.KA the boys of your choices crush, being whisked away to a ghostly honeymoon. Would at least like to see Kalim for this but any boy that you think would mount a daring and romantic rescue. Please and thank you

COMMENTS: Well, I decided to write for 4 characters. One of them being Kalim. For the others I didn't want to choose one from the Overblot Boys because I'm thinking of doing a similar post with them in the future. And when I saw the list of students I thought that the most fun to write would be some of the most impulsive and those most likely to be unable/unwilling to lie. So I chose Deuce, Jack and Floyd.

I will admit it was fun to write. 🙂

I hope you all enjoy 💐

CHARACTERS: Deuce Spade; Jack Howl; Floyd Leech & Kalim Al-Asim

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Love Confessions

WARNING: Spoilers from The Phantom Bride event

WORD COUNT: An average of 450 words per character.

CONTEXT: Someone was kidnapped to marry some ghost princess and might end up turning into a ghost too. And they just found out that someone was you.

A mix of panic and fury is what Deuce felt when he found out what had happened or could happen to you.

There was a Housewardens meeting about what happened, so Deuce wasn't present. And so he went to his Housewarden to ask Riddle that whatever the plan was, please get him involved.

They end up forming a small group to rescue you. Deuce being part of it. On the way to you the others end up staying behind to stop the ghost guards from getting in the way of Deuce. And he ends up being the only one to appear in the ceremony room.

Deuce screams at everyone to stop the wedding. But with his feelings on the surface, instead of trying to reason and persuade the ghosts, he threatens them. It was as if he was willing to fight the world and beyond for you.

Unfortunately, the guards are in the majority and manage to trap him and cause him to drop his magic pen.

He's furious, but he can't break free. The wedding goes on and the only thing that occurs to him, in the midst of despair, is to tell the truth.

“(Y/N)! You don't want to marry her do you?” You answer him that of course not, but the princess says anything about you don't know what you're saying. “You're the one who doesn't know what you're saying! What if they already love someone else? What if someone else already loves them?” The princess asks what he's talking about and his answer is for you and not for the princess. “I LOVE YOU, (Y/N)!” and then he talks to the princess again, with tears in his eyes “Please, don't take them away...”

The princess petrifies. She might be delusional, but even she can't ignore a declaration like that. She even mentions that she feels a little jealous of you. That one of the things she dreams about the most is that someone loves her so much that they make a declaration like that to her too.

And that's what drives the ghost guard who loves her to declare himself to her. And all that ending with her finding out she loved him happens.

After everything and they freed you, Deuce couldn't care less about the princess and the ghosts. He hugs you desperately, as if he's afraid they'll take you again.

He is embarrassed by the loving declaration he made to you. But he can't go back now.

Jack is more worried and scared than angry. He's more concerned with you being hurt and your well-being than with getting revenge on the ghosts. But he won't back down from a fight.

There was a Housewardens meeting about what happened, so Jack wasn't present. And so he went to his Housewarden to ask Leona that whatever the plan was, please get him involved.

Leona'd probably tell Jack that he could even do all the work if he wanted to. And he decides to do just that. He is a man... young man of action.

He will turn into a wolf and burst into the building. He won't stop until he gets to you and he'll get rid of anyone who gets in his way. And he will break down the doors still in his wolf form.

Everyone's like "A WOLF?!" And you're like "Jack?"

In his wolf form and with magic he can defeat any ghost that tries to stop him. And that's why that ghost guard turns into a giant to finally stop Jack.

Without being able to move anymore, the only thing left for him to do is try to talk to the princess and the guards. And for that he transforms himself back into a beastman. Surprising all ghosts. And piquing the curiosity of Princess Eliza. She asks him why he was there.

“To stop this wedding!” She asks, overjoyed and flattered if he's there for her. But he can't take that opportunity to lie, because he doesn't like to lie. “No! It's not for you that I'm here. It's for the person you kidnapped.” she starts to say that she didn't kidnap anyone. “Of course you did! Do you think (Y/N) wants to be here?!” An argument between the two of you and the ghosts starts, but that doesn't matter at the end. “JUST LET THEM GO!” he barks completely out of patience “They deserve better than you!” Everybody gasps at his boldness.

The ghost that held him starts defending the princess. Ending up revealing his feelings for her. And all that ending with her finding out she loved him happens.

The ghosts set you and Jack free. He runs to you to hug you, relieved that you're okay and that it's all over. You ask him about what he said. About you deserving better. And he decides to just tell you the truth.

He reveals that the whole thing about stopping the marriage was because he liked you. That a person like you deserves the best that anyone can offer. And he promises you that he will do his best to be the person you deserve.

Floyd hears that someone was kidnapped by that princess to marry her and such, but he couldn't care less. At least not until he hears your name.

At that moment he stops. Approach the students who were talking about that and ask what you have to do with that story.

The students, frightened, tell him what happened. But they quickly regret being the bearers of bad news because Floyd's expression quickly goes from just a curious face to that serious and terrifying expression of his. And he ends the conversation by calmly asking where you were.

And the ghosts worst nightmare enters the building. He was just annoyed at first that you'd been kidnapped. But then he starts having fun fighting the ghosts. To the point of becoming practically sadistic. Which terrified the ghosts even more.

The last time Princess Elisa was in such danger was when she was killed. So all the ghosts prepare in the ceremonial hall to protect her. You see them all panicking without knowing why. Not even the princess knows why.

He enters the room breaking down the door with a kick and a creepy smile on his face. “Peekaboo~” And the guards attack him. Now you see why they were so scared. Floyd was having fun at first, but then complained that facing the same kind of ghost was getting boring.

Then one of the ghost guards became a giant to face him. And Floyd smiled again. Unfortunately for him, the ghost managed to get him to drop the magic pen and trap him. The Princess asks what a monster like him was doing there.

“I study here, smartass.” everyone gasped offended. She says he can go back to study there after the wedding. “Yeah, but nah. That won't do.” she asks why not “Because I won't let you marry my Koebi-chan.” She gets confused by that nickname, but when she realizes he was talking about you, she starts defending herself. “Whatevs. HEY KOEBI-CHAN! Do you want to marry this spoiled brat?” You try to contain your laughter and answer no. “See? Now stop this crap before my patience runs out for good.” The giant ghost who is grabbing him orders him to stop talking to the princess like that. “Why? She's gettin' on my nerves. Don't tell me you have a crush on her, HA HA HA”

The ghost starts by trying to deny it, until he finally decides to confess to her once and for all. And all that ending with her finding out she loved him happens.

After the ghosts free the two of you, they beg you to take Floyd with you. You ask him why he did that. “You didn't hear me? I said I wasn't going to let her marry you.” you ask him why “Because I don't want you to marry someone you don't want to. Well, the truth is, I don't want you to marry anyone but me, but I let you choose.”

PANIC!!! OH GREAT SEVEN WHAT DOES HE DO?!

If Jamil is in the room, he himself is trying not to panic while trying to calm Kalim's panic. If only the Housewardens were in the room, one of the others will have to calm him down.

Kalim will do anything to save you, pay whatever it takes! Just someone tell him what to do.

Unfortunately, without an answer on what to do, he returns to Scarabia in a very worried state. Unknown to Jamil, Kalim has gone to the treasure room to be alone. But carpet went to keep him company.

He begins by thanking carpet for the company, while it tries to tell him that it can help save you. But as slow as Kalim can be, he only realizes later and even thinks the idea was his own.

He dashes out of Scarabia with carpet towards the hall where the wedding is taking place. And to get there, he ends up breaking a window since it's faster than going through the door.

He grabs you still on top of the flying carpet, to try to simply get you out of there, but the ghost guards manage to hit the carpet and make you fall. You fell with Kalim embracing you so you wouldn't be hurt.

And it's when the guards force the two of you apart that he starts to speak. He screams at them to stop the marriage because it's wrong. That one person cannot be forced to marry another.

But Princess Eliza says she needs to marry someone “princely”. Somehow, for some reason, she seas that in you.

“But why? Is that a rule? Because it shouldn't be! You should marry the one you love and not someone others think you should marry. Whether that person is a princess or a thief. Be someone you've known for years...” he points to the ghost guards “...or...” he looks at you “someone who just showed up in your life out of the blue and without warning. And who in just a few weeks became the most important person in your life.” he smiles at you, as if he forgets everything else around.

Princess Eliza stopped listening after that about the guards. And all that ending with her finding out she loved one of her guards happens.

In the end, Kalim gets emotional with the princess's marriage to the guard. Forgiving and forgetting the whole thing about your kidnapping. Chances are he's the type of person to cry at a wedding.

And he takes that opportunity to declare himself to you. Because that opened his eyes and he can't keep hiding his feelings anymore.

He couldn't stand the idea of you marrying someone else, because he started dreaming of marrying you.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

1K notes · View notes

nalyra-dreaming · 23 days

Text

I've seen the episode!!!

(Some comments and) SPOILERS!!!!

Louis saying it was a betrayal and that he wants to be punished for it just when he finds happiness again via a hallucination of Lestat is so... ugh. Louis, honey, god. Also him imagining Lestat biting him - as a punishment, but he also wants it so badly, baring his neck, not trying to fight it, offering himself up there, he just wants the connection so badly. 😭 And god, Louis having Lestat call him out on his own denial. Damn. And Louis knowing he invited this Lestat as a distraction.

Also... that was definitely foreshadowing to how Louis will think the trial went.

And of course it would be a bat. Of course.™

Claudia driving them onwards, not giving one shit is just... incredible. Delainey is Claudia.

I was also right that she honed her senses and available gifts, more than Louis has his (which fits)

Daniel calling their plight the hunt for Moby Dick

Claudia is also... beautifully hopeful, and thereby almost desperately (intentionally) naive. She just wants to connect, so badly. To find more of their kind. And closes her eyes to what she sees. *deep sigh*

That "Adam and Even and God" comment was hilarious. Oh man, I cannot wait to see what the show will make of / with QotD and Memnoch etc.

Not only is Louis aware of forgotten memories now, he actively pursues them, and he has apparently read the missing pages before. And knows he has forgotten.

Claudia's diaries are unreliable, too (as predicted). Also, Louis correcting his own tale there, lol. Also: Armand‘s look and suggestion there.

Daniel and his little speech as to how he works… you go Daniel. “Here’s almost all the story“ lol

“Human affairs“

The revenants.... "the blood is bad here" *shivers* - I BET that's already setting up the "turning fails" arc with Amel, right there

God that old vampire connecting with Claudia, and then throwing herself into the fire in despair. God.

Morgan's arc was nicely condensed, the scene fittingly horrific

I live for Claudia speaking all the languages, but I noticed some of the subtitles were wrong

Whoever doubted DM happening... well. Sorry, but I AM seeing it. The looks, the smirks, the bitching.

Also "real Rashid" (lmao) - who, btw, does not wear a mask! What if the encounter with Eudoxia Marius had went differently and this is Rashid?

... someone wanting to buy a tryptich they haven't even put up for sale... *coughs* Marius? *coughs* (I mean, who else would know they have it? Or the Talamasca, maybe)

God that Dubai bedroom screams cage. And Armand controlling even the lights with his little iPad. Someone edit a blender into a screenshot of that scene.

The look Lestat gives Claudia at that last part of Louis' little speech. Devastating.

Also: the "I do I do I do I do I do"... Louis. Sweetie. I mean, I get it, but still.

Armand's comment that the boy from San Francisco is still in Daniel. Now if that is not foreshadowing.

A propos foreshadowing: Louis saying he will not choose the fire while Claudia walks the earth. *help*

"We cannot be the only good ones". Yeah... about that. -.-

Louis being so relieved that what Claudia wrote was not the truth

The. Score.

Louis pacifying Armand there with the little touches at the end. LOL (the whole setup makes me wonder if ARMAND has also forgotten some things btw). Also that little thank you kiss

The Groan. Once more seemingly when Armand is displeased, so it could be a metaphysical manifestation after all, especially since Louis seems to comment on it. (It could also be a red herring, we'll see.)

Daniel‘s “we‘ll get to you“ to Armand (lol)

Louis‘ guilty look to Lestat when he tries to pep talk Claudia 😭

EDIT: there were two very short flahback scenes with a comment to memory, which is setting up the big one later, no doubt about it, ugh

I legit teared up so often.

I have missed them all so much.

It's all I wanted, and more. Cannot wait to scream about it with everyone.

Also, last but not least: can I just say how glad I am our writers are playwrights.

#iwtv spoilers #iwtv s2 #iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire s2 #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv season 2 #iwtv s2 spoilers #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #the devil's minion #armand #daniel molloy #devil's minion #iwtv claudia #claudia de lioncourt

219 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 8 months

Text

The Impossible Choice (55) (End)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, giving birth, breastfeeding kink, mention of trauma, violence ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

I am touched, this is my longest story, my beloved child, my beloved couple. This story of mine was probably the most successful and brought me a lot of joy, your involvement made me want to keep writing. I feel like I'm ending at the right moment, just as I wanted, and I hope you won't be disappointed. I remind those in despair that I still have stories from The Impossible Choice AU to write. I also recommend reading Brother, Lover, Son and The Pearl and The Sapphire, because these are also stories from this universe. Thank you all for such a wonderful response!

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

She wasn't sure she'd ever been as horrified in her life as she was when she realised her husband had lied to her. After he left the wedding feast, as she waited for him in his chamber she finally asked the guards standing at her door if they knew if he was still in the Small Council hall.

They looked at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, one of them swallowed loudly and said it was impossible.

They did not explain to her why, but she understood that her husband had hidden something from her, that he had planned something and gone away, left her. Her head was buzzing with his question that he had asked her before he left, she could see his gaze, his lower lip trembling slightly.

"You know that I love you."

Only then did she realise it was a kind of farewell.

A farewell in case he didn't come back.

She felt as she had that night when his army had set out with her father to Eyrie only for her to suffer such a painful loss and she shuddered all over at the thought, huddled against her pillow, that the same thing awaited her this time. She began to cry loudly, terrified, unable to calm herself, her child in her womb moving restlessly, sensing her condition.

She was unable to fall asleep, but she was also too tired to think logically in the morning so she persisted in lethargy, breathing hard, recoiling at every louder sound, hoping it was him.

Finally the door opened and he stood there, his white hair, his face, his hands, his armour all in blood.

She covered her face with her hands trying not to scream, horrified at the thought that it could have been his own blood, that he was wounded, and just stared at him with big eyes, unable to get a word out.

There was a kind of emptiness and weariness in his gaze.

He approached her slowly and the door closed quietly behind him. He knelt in front of her with a loud clatter of his metal armour and embraced her gently, tenderly, cuddling his cheek against her abdomen, only then did she feel him tremble all over.

"It's done." He whispered in a hoarse, low voice while looking somewhere in the distance, and she felt a tightening in her stomach mixed with relief and horror.

It's done.

Her lip trembled as an involuntary question escaped her lips.

"Are they dead?"

Her husband swallowed hard, clenched his eyes as her hands stroked his hair, she felt him seek comfort in her arms, consolation, an escape from what he had done, what he would have to face every day from now on.

"Yes."

She didn't ask him anything else. She didn't ask him how they died, who killed them, if they suffered much.

She didn't want to know that.

She didn't want to think about it.

"You must take a bath, my love." She whispered, kissing the top of his head, and he sighed quietly, as if relieved, as if afraid that the scale of his act, the enormity of the sin he had brought with him would make her push him away.

She knew he needed her like never before.

She did not let him out of her arms, letting him snuggle into her womb as she called their servants and ordered them to prepare a tub of hot water. As they did so she combed her fingers through his hair, whispering to him that he was brave, that there was no other way, that he had protected her and their child, his family, that he had to do this.

She told him everything he needed to hear to keep him from going mad with despair.

She felt his tears on the skin of her arms, felt that his body was shaking, that the realisation of what he had done was slowly reaching his mind along with the adrenaline and overwhelm leaving his body.

"Joffrey…" He muttered and pressed his lips together in an attempt to hold back the feeling that was building up inside him, and then he burst out sobbing.

She felt a tightening in her throat at the thought of that little boy, at the thought that both he and she knew he was a child who had nothing to do with these events, was no different from Jaehaerys.

"− shhh − I know − I know − I know, my beloved − I am with you −" She whispered and leaned towards him so as to enclose him in the embrace of her body, his head pressed from the side to her abdomen and from the top to her breasts, her hands stroking his neck and wet cheeks, her lips kissing his hair.

Slowly he began to calm down, ashamed of his weakness and what he had shown her he finally grunted and stood up. She helped him take off his armour, then his chemise and trousers. He stepped into the tub of hot water and let out a loud gasp of air, as if he didn't believe he was back.

That he was alive.

Just as she had done before, just as she had done then, at the beginning of their marriage, she began by washing his head, the blood from his hair and body staining the water red. She felt him lift his hand back and run his fingertips over her arm, as if he needed to feel the touch of her body, needed to be physically reassured that she was with him, that he was not alone.

She knew he was scared, that what he had done was crushing him and that she needed to be there for him.

She tried not to think about it, to push the doubt and remorse away, knowing that she had to be his pillar, his strength, that he could not see hesitation in her. He needed to feel that he had made the right choice, that she did not despise him, that nothing had changed.

After his bath, she helped him get dressed in clean clothes. Even though it was morning and they should be eating breakfast, she led him to their bed holding his hand, and lay down with him.

"Try to sleep, my dearest. I will be with you all the time." She said softly. He hummed under his breath and nodded, laying down beside her, cuddling his face between her breasts. She placed her chin in his hair, embracing him tightly, stroking him, and began to quietly sing him the lullaby her mother used to hum to her when she was a child.

She felt his tense body slowly relax, felt him cry again, and then after a time that lasted an eternity for her he finally fell into a restless sleep.

Word of Aegon's severe burns reached her quickly and she decided to visit him with her husband, knowing better than anyone else what he was going through. As they entered his chamber Helaena was watching over him, rising from his bed and smiling at them.

Aegon's face was almost entirely covered in bandages and she felt an involuntary tightening in her heart at the sight.

Despite what he had done, she felt sorry for him.

"How are you feeling, brother?" She asked softly and he glanced at her, warmth in his gaze by the way she called him. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Not only am I disgusting on the inside, now I'm disgusting on the outside." He laughed, but no one responded to his words. They talked for a while, and then Aegon surprised her with his words.

"I would like to speak in private with my brother."

She and Helaena left his chamber and moved ahead with a slow step, now that she knew it was over, that nothing threatened them anymore, she suddenly felt a gigantic relief, as if she realised that she was safe, that she could calm down at last. She looked at her companion.

"Is he good for you now?" She asked, Helaena looked at her with dreamy eyes.

"Yes. Yes, a lot has changed in him. I regret that it is only now, but… well, I am glad that after the death of our son, I and my daughter find comfort in his arms." She said quietly, looking around, distracted, immersed in her own thoughts. She involuntarily smiled at her words.

"I'm really glad."

She decided not to return to her husband's chamber, but to visit Royce and his new wife. She reasoned that since the danger had passed, she no longer needed to fear anything and lock herself in his quarters like a prison.

She stood outside her brother's chambers and asked the guard to announce her. The man went inside, and after a moment came out and said that Lord and Lady Baratheon would welcome her.

She went inside with a smile, stroking her pregnant abdomen contentedly. Royce stood up, extending his hands to her, and they threw themselves into each other's arms, embracing each other tightly.

"I've heard about what they have done. Gods, why didn't they tell me anything?" He asked, glancing at her, and she sighed heavily.

"I suspect it was all about the surprise effect. My Lady. My congratulations on your nuptials." She said softly and nodded at the young woman who stood up from the table, her dark hair braided, a grey-blue long, simple gown with wide sleeves on her body, she wore no jewellery.

Even so, she must have found the expression on her face pleasing, her mouth was full as was her shape, there was something curious and magnetising in her eyes.

"Thank you, my Lady." She answered her and also nodded. She glanced at her husband, moving towards the entrance.

"I'll leave you alone. Husband." She said lowly and calmly, nodding at him, embarrassment and something she couldn't decipher ran across Royce's face. When she left, they both sat down at the table, Royce grunting away while combing his hair quickly with his hand.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling well." She said quietly, looking at him intently, unsure if he was happy or not.

"Oh, I feel fine." He said quickly, pouring himself a cup of wine and grunting loudly. She blinked, looking at him intensely.

"Are you content?" She asked finally. He lifted his gaze to her and pressed his lower lip tight. He sighed and ran his hand over his face.

"I…I've had close-ups with various women, but she…gods, I don't even know how to put it, I've never experienced anything like this. She's very experienced, I can only tell you that much." He mumbled and she saw with surprise and amusement that he was all red, he had trouble looking into her face, clearly overwhelmed by the memories of his last night.

"So… you're content." She finished at last, and he pressed his lips together and grunted again.

"I…yes, I think so."

When she returned to her husband's chamber he was already waiting for her, sitting in a chair right by the fire, his eye piercing her, focused and anxious.

"Where have you been?" He asked coolly and she sighed quietly, approaching him slowly. Her abdomen was still swelling, and she was getting tired of walking more and more quickly, but sitting wasn't any more comfortable for her.

"I visited my brother. He is pleased with his new wife." She said softly and touched his hand with her fingers. "I thought that since my husband has ensured that the danger has passed, I could visit him."

Aemond looked at her watchfully, and after a moment he hummed under his breath and nodded, accepting her words and explanation. His gaze fled to the fire again, her hand tightening on his skin.

"What did your brother want?"

Her husband was silent for a long time, his whole body as tense as a string. He swallowed loudly, running his fingers over his chin.

"He said he wants to relinquish the throne to me." He said lowly, and she looked at him in shock, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad. "That as he is now, he cannot rule the kingdom or represent it physically."

There was a silence between them full of tension, his gaze finally lifting to her, wanting to see her reaction.

"Did you agree?" She asked quietly. She had the feeling that his gaze was piercing her deeply, that he knew her enough to be aware of her every doubt, her every thought.

His silence seemed to last her an eternity.

"No."

She blinked, opening and closing her mouth, looking at him in disbelief.

She felt a sense of relief.

"Why?" She asked in shock, and he murmured under his breath, stretching out his hand on his armrest, straightening and clenching his fingers as he always did when he was thinking hard about something.

"Because I promised the gods that if they spared you I would give up my hopes for the crown. They kept you alive then, in Harrenhal, and they kept you alive in the Red Keep. I have grown to think that the gods do not want me to be king. My current role suits me. As the Hand of the King and Prince Regent, I will rule in his name until his condition improves. I told him I want something else in return." He said, entwining their fingers together, stroking her soft, warm skin with his thumb.

She felt heat in her heart at his words, at the thought that he still remembered that vow, that he truly believed that through his sacrifice the gods were watching over her.

"And what do you want?" She asked softly, and he lifted his gaze to her, a disturbing glint in his eye.

"Dragonstone."

When they finally moved to Dragonstone she moved with difficulty, the heat was unbearable for her and she demanded a cool bath as soon as they reached the place. Before their arrival, Aemond had the chamber in the underground where Luke was last seen completely cleaned and sealed.

When she finally sank into the icy water she breathed a loud sigh of relief, her husband strolling through their chamber with evident satisfaction.

She knew that he had at last won a coveted inheritance, something to pass on to his descendants that was his. She knew he had been waiting for this moment all his life. When he looked at her at last she smiled at him.

He hummed under his breath and approached her unhurriedly with his hands folded behind his back, gazing intently at the indistinct outline of her body that he could see beneath the sheet of water.

He knelt by her tub and took her hand in his, pressing it to his lips. He stroked her wet skin with his thumb and let the air out quietly through his nose.

"Just a few more weeks." He whispered, and she nodded.

She did not want to be alone at such a difficult time and asked that Cassandra come to Dragonstone to keep her company. Helaena and Alicent had also announced their passage, so that she was not as afraid.

She saw him press his lips together, looking at her stomach. She knew what he was thinking about, she knew what he feared.

He was afraid that she would die.

That she had not been taken from him by fire or by an assassin, but would be ripped from him by her labour, just as it had taken wives from husbands for hundreds of years, just as it had taken Aemma from his father.

She stroked his face, seeing his worry and tension.

"Be of good cheer, my beloved." She whispered tenderly and he nodded, kissing her hand again.

She felt her first intense contractions at the table when they were eating dinner together, as they did every day.

Her husband was telling her about a new book he had read about the history of the First People, and she listened intently and contentedly until a wave of pain went through her body. She dropped her cup and rose suddenly, catching her stomach, her husband froze in mid-motion.

"What's happening?" He asked terrified, unable to move for a moment.

"I think it's starting." She muttered, and then felt something warm run down her thighs.

She began to cry in his arms as he carried her to their chamber, for Cassandra, Helaena and Alicent were only due to arrive in two days. True, the midwives and maids were by her side, but it wasn't the same.

"I don't want to be alone." She whined quietly and he looked at her despairingly, laying her down on the bed, the women around her began to untie her gown to help her.

"…do you want me to stay with you?" He asked uncertainly, and she swallowed with difficulty and wept loudly, feeling another powerful spasm.

Aemond turned his face away, unable to look at her suffering, not knowing how to behave, not having any knowledge of these women's affairs that always took place behind closed doors.

"Get out." She said finally, grabbing her stomach, she felt him throw her a shocked, uncertain look. "Get out, I don't want you to look at this."

She exhaled, not wanting him to be disgusted with her, so that later, thinking of her, all he could see was that sight, the sight of a ripped flesh full of sweat, blood and bodily fluids.

He, however, did not move from his place, his hands clenched into fists, horror in his gaze.

He didn't know what to do.

She didn't have the strength to think about it, hot sweat was running down her whole body, she felt like she was on fire. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was finally left in just her nightgown, one of the servants put a pillow under her back and another applied a cold compress to her forehead.

The midwife sat down in front of her, parting her legs with her hands, peering between her thighs.

"When I tell you, my lady, you will begin to push. Do you understand?" She asked softly, she was a plump, blushing woman, her voice gentle and warm.

She imagined with tears in her eyes that this strange woman was her mother, and that the maid rubbing her forehead was her sister, and nodded quickly.

Without even looking at him, she knew that her husband was still standing by their bed.

She felt relief and horror, gratitude and rage at the same time.

The pain and contractions began to become more intense and followed each other faster and faster, her heart pounding like mad, her whole body in readiness for the tremendous effort that awaited her.

She wondered if she would survive it.

"Push, my lady!" The woman called out, and she clenched her eyes shut and, with a loud whine of effort, tried to force her child out of herself. She felt something move inside her and she threw her head back, panting heavily as she felt tears running down her cheeks.

"Very well. Breathe, my lady, deep, full breaths." The woman spoke to her, and she nodded, trying to focus only on her breathing, on the way the air flowed through her chest.

"Push!" She called out again, and she clenched her hands on the bedclothes around her and cried out loudly, feeling the searing pain, her baby's head trying to squeeze through her tight walls.

She fell backwards panting all over, heard a sudden movement beside her, her husband's hand tightened on hers, his gesture of support and terror, his gesture of closeness, his sign that he was there for her.

"Yes, just like that. And again. Push!"

It felt like it went on forever, she was one big sweaty, weeping mess, she clenched her fingers on his hand so tightly she felt like she was going to break his fingers, her heart pounding like crazy.

"I can already see the head, my lady! Just a little more! Push!" She squeezed her eyes shut and a whined in effort and pain as she made her body to force her offspring out.

Suddenly she felt something flow out of her, a sudden lightness and relief filled her, the midwife caught something red in her arms.

"There he is, my lady, look what a beautiful baby boy!" She said, wrapping the small creature all smeared with blood in a clean white cloth, wiping him slowly, and she laughed with joy and relief as she looked at her child's face.

Her son had dark Baratheon hair.

She turned her head towards her husband, wanting to see his reaction, his joy at the sight of their child, but she saw that he was crying without even looking in that direction, his wet cheek pressed against her hand, his fingers clenched on her skin trembling all over.

She felt her heart squeeze at the thought that he was rejoicing that she had been alive.

When their first shock had passed, when she had been changed into a clean chemise and the bedclothes had been changed, when she had lain back in bed, her son had at last been given to her, having already had his first bath, wrapped in a warm, bright blanket, his tiny arms and legs squirming vigorously when he felt her proximity, as if he recognised her immediately.

She felt a bond, a love, a tenderness, looking at his little chubby pink face, his scent was wonderful and addictive.

She looked up contentedly and saw her husband's proud look, an almost invisible smile on his face. He stood over her with his arms folded behind his back, preferring not to touch such a small creature for the time being, watching his interaction with his mother.

They had agreed that if a girl was born she would name her, and if a boy was born, he would name him. She knew exactly what name he had chosen, but she asked him anyway.

"Daeron."

It was only at night, when they were finally alone, that her husband lay down beside them in just his chemise, looking intently at the little being sleeping in her arms. She cradled him looking at him with tenderness, thinking that he was the most beautiful child she had ever seen in her life.

"He has your eyes." She whispered and he hummed with contentment at her words as he carefully put his arm around them, pressing his temple against her forehead. She felt him place a kiss on her cheek and on her jaw, felt him inhale her scent.

"You were so brave, sweet wife. I have never been more proud of you." He whispered tenderly, and she felt the heat spread through her heart. She looked up at him, brushing the tip of her nose against his and they kissed, warmly, softly, their lips moist and swollen.

They spent the next few weeks getting used to the changes in their lives. Her wounds healed slowly and after only a few days she was able to get up, much to the displeasure of her husband, who wanted her to avoid straining herself.

The cold stone walls of Dragonstone suddenly became cosier when the baby's babbling filled them, their son was loud and constantly laughing, overjoyed at their constant presence.

Aemond didn't want to be like his father, and though he was afraid to pick him up, he often looked in on him just to touch him, to make sure he was safe.

She saw him watching out of the corner of his eye as she fed their son, finding it a very intimate and private sight, his wife holding his heir at her breast, giving him life, tending to his legacy.

She knew he craved her, saw the way he gazed greedily at her breasts, but dared not demand anything of her after seeing their son tear her flesh.

However, when her wounds had healed and she was no longer in discomfort, when she told him he could touch her there, he threw himself at her like mad, his tongue deep in her throat, his hands ripping her chemise from her body.

They were both panting loudly, kissing each other greedily with a sticky, wet click, she felt him grab her hips and settle her on top of him, quickly untying his trousers, they didn't have time to be embarrassed by how much they needed it, that they just wanted to fuck.

"If I don't cum inside you soon I'll die, sweet wife." He gasped affectionately, his voice trembling with desire, and she kissed him again, clamping her hand in his hair, the other guiding his length to her entrance, slowly lowering herself onto him.

They both moaned piteously loudly, his hips beginning to impale her on his manhood again and again, filling her with himself, shivers of pleasure and heat passing through her.

She pressed her forehead against his, rising and falling against him, their bodies slapping against each other hard and fast, the lewd click of their shared juices echoing through their chamber.

"− can I taste you? − " He whispered so quietly that for a moment she wasn't sure she heard it, his hand involuntarily cupped her full breast filled to the brim with milk, she mewled in pleasure as she felt him begin to play with her nipple in his mouth.

"− yes −" She exhaled and moaned loudly, aroused by this perverse act, his lips clamped tightly around her nipple began to suckle, she heard the loud sound of him swallowing.

She clenched her hand in his hair pressing his face closer to her, feeling her walls begin to throb on his length that he pushed into her body with each of his deep thrusts, she was embarrassed by how surprisingly pleasurable it was.

"− oh, Aemond − yes −" She mewled as she struggled to fall and rise on top of him, their bodies slapping against each other with each violent movement of their flesh, his lips pulled away from her nipple with a loud plop, he licked his lips as he looked at her with a misty gaze.

"− so fucking delicious −" He breathed out and she whimpered softly, feeling his words between her thighs, not having the opportunity to answer him, his lips pressed against her other breast, repeating everything from the beginning, her nails tightened and ran over his naked back, she heard his loud purr of pleasure between the loud sounds of swallowed milk.

"− Aemond − it feels so good − oh gods −" She cried out loudly and tilted her head back, coming harder than ever in her life, he moaned low into her breast without releasing her from his mouth, she felt his hot semen spill inside her a moment later, they were both panting and moaning loudly, she wasn't sure she had ever experienced such an intense, long orgasm before.

He finally released her breast from his mouth, pressing his face to her chest, panting along with her. She stroked his hair, kissing the top of his head, purring with delight as she felt his manhood pulsing inside her in fulfilment.

"− will you let me do it again? −" He asked in a trembling voice full of embarrassment and guilt, as if he had done something lewd and unthinkable, as if he feared she would now be ashamed of him. She kissed his hair at his question.

"− yes −"

From then on, his perfect place in the world was to be deep inside her with his mouth pressed against her breast. They both knew that there was something even more intimate than usual about this act, some kind of taboo, unmistakable intimacy that could not be replaced by anything else.

She tried not to burst out laughing when one day at breakfast he asked her feigning indifference when she would lose the milk in her breasts, and she answered him that her body would continue to produce it as long as she breastfed.

She then saw the shock and the glint in his eye, he bit his lower lip involuntarily, unable to hide his expression of delight at this information.

They were closer together than ever.

The birth of their son reassured the entire kingdom, for in the event that Helaena did not bear Aegon another son, there was a young heir to the throne alive who would take over after his father.

When she spoke to her husband it seemed to her that he was made to be the Hand of the King, his advice always cool and recalcitrant. To her surprise, Aegon finally learned to use them and became a better king than she would ever have expected.

Daeron was a calm, joyful infant. He soon began to chatter, making his own unspecified sounds and syllables, bringing joy and laughter into their fortress. Her husband read to him a lot, and he stood in his little wooden bed with railings and hopped softly on his feet, delighted.

He adored him.

She had to keep repeating it to him because he didn't believe it, but his son was drawn to him, forever longing for him when he headed to the Red Keep for meetings, he would reach out his chubby hands greedily to him whenever he saw him return.

Although outwardly he was stern and cold towards the servants and guards, when he locked himself with them in their chamber he changed into a different person.

He would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, say he heard Joffrey crying from the underground and frighten her, breathing hard. She tried not to show it, hugging and stroking him until he fell asleep again.

She knew that these events would never stop haunting him.

When morning set in, the first thing after checking with a touch of his hand that she was lying next to him was to see if Daeron was asleep in his bed. He would sometimes get up in the night to check that he was breathing and, reassured, would only return to further sleep, embracing her from behind and snuggling his face into the hollow of her neck.

She was overwhelmed with happiness when her brother sent her a letter from Storm's End informing her that his wife was expecting a child.

From what she understood their marriage had been quite successful and peaceful, her character proving far more calm and composed than her brother had originally assumed. She renewed herself in Storm's End, happy to still be close to the sea.

As the time approached for her to give birth, she asked her husband to fulfil his promise that he had made to her when they were in Harrenhal and for them to travel to Storm's End.

Travelling on a dragon's back with a small child seemed too dangerous for them, so they set off in a carriage, patiently enduring the hardships and length of the journey.

When they arrived she felt a strange tightness in her throat as she watched the round throne room where her father had always sat, and now her brother sat in his place.

He stood up happy to see her, kissed her cheek and stroked the head of her son whom she held in her arms, Daeron giggled happily and began to squirm again, bursting with energy.

"I see my nephew is growing fast. How these children are changing! He was such a little baby not so long ago." He said gushing with enthusiasm, clearly delighted at the prospect of becoming a father himself. She smiled broadly at his words, glad to see him, glad to be home.

Royce looked at her husband, who was standing behind her, and nodded. Aemond reciprocated the gesture, but they did not say a word to each other.

She felt memories hit her from every direction and she was moved. She had insisted that they sleep in her old chamber during their stay even though it was small her husband agreed without a word.

When they went inside their belongings and their son's cot were already standing. Aemond had only been there once, on the night he returned from Winterfell and left abruptly after their argument, so he had no time to look at anything closely.

He looked through her books curiously, looked out of her windows, looked around, and she thought fondly that he had tried to imagine her life before she met him.

Before he had chosen her.

"Would you like to see my mother's crypt?" She asked softly. He looked at her and nodded.

They descended into the underworld with the torch he held in his hand. Although the web of corridors beneath the fortress was complicated, she knew this path by heart, having often gone down there as a child, asking her mother for advice from the heavens.

After a short walk among the stone statues, they arrived in front of the one she remembered so well. She felt a tightness in her throat, burning tears in her eyes as she saw a familiar sculpture, a stone female figure that was supposed to resemble her mother, but did not even partially reflect her beauty.

She approached it and touched its cold surface with her hand, her husband remained silent.

"Mother, this is my husband, prince Aemond. Forgive me for not introducing him to you earlier. He chose me against my and my father's will, but I did not know then how much I would love him. I didn't know that…" She broke off, feeling her voice break, Aemond moved beside her restlessly, swallowing loudly.

"...I didn't know we would make it, I didn't believe I would be as happy as you were with my father. Thank you for watching over me, for listening to my prayers and making the gods send me the husband I asked for." She finished in a trembling voice, choking on her own tears, feeling that only now, two years after these events, did she truly understand what had happened, what she had experienced, what she had gone through, what a long and difficult path it had been.

She heard him come up to her, putting his torch down on the stone ground and embraced her, hugging her to his chest. She felt his heart pounding fast, felt that he was unable to get a word out. He kissed her hair and pressed his face to the top of her head, standing with her like this in the warm light of the fire.

"I thought it was impossible for someone to love me. I thought it was impossible for me to love someone. I thought it was impossible for me to make a good choice when I came here on Vhagar's back..." He whispered, and she clenched her hands tighter on the material of his leather jacket, his warmth, his familiar, wonderful, calming scent spreading through her lungs.

"...and then I saw you."

______

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

442 notes · View notes

utytimeline · 4 months

Text

I might make some people mad, but I'm gonna say it, anyway.

So, Ceroba's reason for choosing Chujin over Star was because she wanted someone more mature. At least, that's my understanding. Star was playing cowboy and role-playing with his friends while she wanted to settle down and raise a family.

And... yeah, Star had a lot of growing up to do. And he did almost none of it until Ceroba stopped him from shooting us.

Star's main character flaw is his ego, but it's even worse than just an ego. Half the reason he set up the Wild East was to help everyone else. He wanted to bring in money to help his family when the Swelterstone's effects caused a drought; he wanted monsters to get a taste of what the surface is like so they don't drown in despair; and he wanted to make Ceroba happy after she lost both her husband and her child. All of this on top of feeling like he was a "nobody farmer" that couldn't do anything or help anyone.

So Star's primary character flaw isn't as simple as just having a big ego. His primary character flaw is trying to fix others as a way of fixing himself.

Sometimes this is a good thing, tho. I often think of Star as the "papa" of the Feisty Five. He's the protective one, he's the one teaching them ethics (reminding Mooch that they're not supposed to be bandits, playing dead to teach Clover about the responsibility of potentially hurting someone), he takes care of the town, he's made ALL his own money from this town that he built himself (enough that Mooch wants his inheritance, so it's a sizeable amount), he even gave his posse a designated nap time, gave Ceroba a home (and possibly gave her his bed while he crashes on the couch), sews his own clothes, set up all the rules and regulations... and I could go on, but I think I've made my point. Star is not wholly irresponsible. He's not perfectly responsible- he, and the rest of the posse, have a habit of breaking and losing Blackjack's weapons, they're all loud and rowdy, and they have a tendency to forget to turn off their boulder machines out in the Dunes.

So, yeah, Star does still have some growing up to do. But he's got a good start.

As for... everything that went wrong... That was entirely due to Star's worship of humanity. Star fell in love with westerns and with the justice and overall sense of romance that they portrayed, so much so that he not only tried to make himself into one of his western heroes, but he then extended this worship to the first human to ever set foot in the Dunes- namely, Clover. And because of this, Star completely threw everything that was good about himself out the window. He sees a human an immediately decides "this is my deputy," without even really giving Clover a fair chance to see if they even are deputy material. He forgot the safety glasses, got so worked up he forgot how to pronounce "duel," became extremely temperamental, apparently forgot that Vengeful Virgil was scheduled for the train mission that day, locked up a Royal Guard against her will (arguably committing treason in doing so, I might add), and just generally began running over everyone's words and emotions, including Ceroba's.

So when it came down to the Showdown... Star blamed Clover. Star's not an idiot. He knows good and well it's not Clover's fault. It's Star's fault- or more precisely, it's his worship of humanity that is to blame. But the problem is, he's taken it upon himself to guard the feelings of other monsters, to make them feel hope and joy. And he just screwed up and stole all that from them. So he's conflicted, not willing to admit that he has done the exact opposite of everything he set out to do. And since it's his worship of humans that led him to this point, he decides to blame the human.

Hence, the Showdown.

But he doesn't want to do it. He says himself, "Monsterkind's Hero is a title soaked in blood." He loves humans. And he sees Clover as a friend. He doesn't want to kill them. He's not a killer, and he doesn't want to be one. He doesn't believe in it. Justice is one thing, but... how is it just to kill someone that did nothing wrong?

So. Here's where Ceroba comes in. Telling Star he needs to calm down and go back to who he used to be. And Star points out that she's changed, too. Even Ceroba says, before taking Clover to the Steamworks, that she doesn't know if she has room to tell Star to go back to the Starlo she used to know.

Ceroba, tho, is no different than Star (this is the part that I said might make some people mad). Ceroba worships Chujin just as much as Star worships humans.

Ok, look. Chujin was a great craftsman. He built so much- furniture for Dalv, his and Ceroba's house, the space heater at the Honeydew Resort, many other items in use throughout the Underground, Kanako's toys (even programmed a video game for her), and so much more. So much that even Star respects him for all that he did for everyone.

However, there is also much that indicates that Chujin wasn't the best at his job. His only award is "You Tried at Engineering," and it took 14 tries for him to build a working robot. In Chujin's defense, I will say that it is impressive that he did build a working, sentient robot without the use of a SOUL, which is how Alphys made both Mettaton and Mew Mew; however, if Chujin is really such a genius, why did it take 14 tries to get Axis to work, when it apparently only took 1 try for Guardener?

And then Chujin didn't just stop with robotics, but went on to SOUL research. Two completely different fields. (And before anyone starts commenting on Alphys, I just want to point out, yet again, that both of the robots she built did use SOUL power; so, realistically, Alphys never was a great robotics genius, but rather, everything she did was a part of SOUL research- hence, the reason Asgore hired her as the Royal Scientist). But Chujin decided to press on with his SOUL research, despite there being no indication anywhere that he had ever done any such research before.

Now, I'm not trying to say that Chujin wasn't remarkable or a genius. I'm just pointing out some things that indicate that maybe he wasn't quite the genius that Ceroba wanted to make him out to be. And... Ceroba's reaction to his "You Tried" award. She's proud of him. More pride than what is warranted by such an award.

Ceroba said she met Chujin when he pretty much rescued her after she twisted her ankle, fell into a ditch, and laid there for several hours, unable to move. She also said that she had considered dating Starlo before meeting Chujin. So... hate me for this if you want to, but I feel like she may not have the best judgement when it comes to guys. Now, that's not to say she picked losers or creeps. Both Chujin and Starlo were/are sweethearts that care deeply about everyone around them. But the fact remains that Ceroba left behind the guy that she'd known all her life for a guy she just met, just because he rescued her from a bad situation.

And I'm not even saying she made a bad choice! By all accounts- including Ceroba's, Martlet's, and even Starlo's- Chujin was a good, kind-hearted, hard-working monster, and a wonderful husband and father. But... he wasn't perfect. And I think Ceroba, even though they had to have been married at least 10 years, just always had stars in her eyes where he was concerned. He was her everything. She believed he could do no wrong. She believed it so strongly, she was willing to do... many horrible things.

Ceroba's drive to kill Clover started with her love for Chujin. She wanted to do anything to keep him alive in her own heart. And when their child begged and pleaded for a chance to help, Ceroba agreed, because Kanako woshipped her father, too. Ceroba's misguided belief in her husband guided her to do things she would never have done otherwise.

Thus the reason for her guilt. It's not just guilt over killing her own child. It's also guilt over knowing that it was her own misguided worship of a monster that wasn't as perfect as she thought he was, that this was what led her to kill, and to kill again.

Ceroba worshipped Chujin. Just as Starlo worshipped the ground Clover walked on, Ceroba worshipped the ground Chujin walked on.

So when people point to Ceroba's comment that Starlo didn't grow up... yeah. She's right. Starlo needed to grow up.

But so did Ceroba.

One of the hardest parts of growing up is realizing that the people you worship are just people. They make mistakes, and you, yourself, are mistaken for believing they can do no wrong.

So, anyway. There's as much Staroba (Starfox, I call them) hatred as there is love for the ship. I've seen both sides of the argument: Starlo isn't mature enough; Ceroba is insane. Yeah. You're both right. And that's why they're perfect for each other. They both made the mistake of changing everything they were in an effort to continue worshipping their idols. They both went nuts. They were both driven to kill. This is the inherent danger of idolatry, believing so much in something that isn't real, that you will do anything to make it stay real to you.

#undertale yellow #starlo #ceroba #clover #my analysis #character analysis #starfox uty #chujin ketsukane #kanako ketsukane

285 notes · View notes

jeannineee · 9 months

Text

Closure (Ⅳ)

Azriel x Reader

a/n: part four!! I was going to wait till this afternoon to post but it’s 5am and I can’t sleep 😐

PART FIVE (FINALE)

warnings: angst, depictions of depression

Azriel knew about the mating bond.

He had known for an entire year.

Azriel knew, and still proposed the two of you have ‘casual sex,’ whilst maintaining your friendship.

And you were stupid enough to agree.

Even worse, despite all he’d done, despite his interest in Elain, despite stringing you along, despite hiding his knowledge of the mating bond…you couldn’t hate him.

It was infuriating.

You were enraged with him beyond measure, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. Couldn’t bring yourself to simply reject the bond—to cut that string, and be done with all of it.

It had been almost two weeks since Azriel admitted the truth. You hadn’t spoken to him—couldn’t speak to him. Not without wanting to throttle him.

Or scream. Or cry.

You told Nesta a few days ago, and you vaguely remembered her ripping into Azriel. In truth, her shouting could’ve been heard from the other side of Velaris.

The terms “brainless bat” and “emotionally stunted” stuck out to you the most.

Leave it to Nesta to bring humor to this shitstorm.

But now, as you laid in your bed, there was no humor to be found. Only emptiness. A lack of…something.

You couldn’t bring yourself to eat, or drink. Could hardly manage sleeping.

You laid there, awake. Existing. Numb, save for the occasional dull pull on the bond.

You supposed it was Azriel’s way of checking on you, since you wouldn’t speak to him. You never returned the gesture.

Let him wonder.

~~~~~~~~

“Get up,” Nesta demanded, yanking the covers off of your body.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, gritting your teeth as the cold air of your bedroom pricked at your bare skin. “No.”

Nesta pulled the pillow from under your head. “Up. Now. You’ve had three weeks to mope.”

You sat up in your bed, rubbing the tiredness out of your eyes. “Get out.”

Your words were sharp, impatient. You’d never had such a tone with Nesta. Never dared to.

“Just get out,” you repeated, before laying back down, staring at the wall.

Nesta’s expression softened as she sat on the bed beside you. She said nothing as she traced a hand along your arm.

The comforting gesture made you tense, and then relax.

Nesta whispered, “I understand how you feel.”

She wasn’t referring to your situation with Azriel.

No, Nesta was referring to the void in your heart. The pit of despair you’d been trying desperately to crawl out of, just to fall deeper within each passing day.

“I understand,” Nesta said again.

Only then did you begin crying.

Nesta remained beside you as you wept. She didn’t speak, though there was little she could say to console you if she wished to.

“What do I do?” You croaked, forcing yourself to sit up again. “What do I do?”

“I can’t tell you what to say, or do in this situation,” Nesta replied, concern evident in her eyes. “And as your friend, I will support whatever you choose to do.”

Nesta continued, “But you need to leave your bed. It doesn’t have to be right this moment, but you need to.”

You only nodded in response, too drained to speak.

Nesta took that as her cue to leave. She sent another concerned look your way before leaving you alone once more.

~~~~~~~~

The following morning, you dragged yourself out of bed, and into the bath. That was a simple task.

You forced yourself to dress, to brush your teeth. Also simple tasks.

But when you tried brushing your hair? That task felt insurmountable.

You’d kept it in a braid, in an attempt to prevent tangles. But now, it was unkempt; almost matted. You applied conditioner, hoping it would soften your hair, but to no avail.

You were almost ready to shatter the mirror in front of you, until a knock sounded at your door.

“Y/n?”

Azriel.

You said nothing. Didn’t so much as move.

“Y/n? Can we talk?”

“No,” you called out, trying to work the brush through your hair, your frustration growing so fast that you were fighting off tears.

Despite your answer, Azriel entered your room anyway. He met your eyes in the bathroom mirror, appearing just as exhausted as you did.

“I said ‘no,’” you told him, returning your focus towards your hair.

“I just wanted to see you,” Azriel said, taking a step closer. You didn’t turn around as he did.

“Well, now you’ve seen me. You can leave.”

Azriel studied you for a moment: your red, tearful eyes, your messy hair. “Let me help, and then I’ll go.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You’re practically screaming your frustration down the bond,” Azriel took another tentative step forward. “Just let me…let me help.”

Reluctantly, you passed the hairbrush to Azriel. Shame coiled in your gut as he began brushing your hair—shame at the fact that you couldn’t do it on your own.

“I can feel you,” Azriel murmured as he carefully tended to your hair. “Don’t think like that.”

“Please stop talking,” you breathed, blinking back tears. Each word from his mouth brought you one step closer to forgiveness that he didn’t yet deserve.

The room was silent for several moments, save for the sound of Azriel running the brush through your hair. His movements were gentle and tender, so as to not cause you any pain.

“I never…” Azriel trailed off for a moment, working at one of the knots in your hair. “I never slept with Elain. Never kissed her.”

“I don’t care.”

But you did care. You were surprised, in fact. Though you didn’t show it.

Azriel went on, “The only time I touched her was during the war with Hybern, when Feyre and I rescued her from their camp.”

You released a shaky breath. “That doesn’t excuse how you’ve been treating me.”

Azriel nodded, his eyes remaining on your hair as he finished brushing it. “You’re right.”

You couldn’t help but ask, “Why Elain?”

Azriel set the hairbrush aside, before separating your hair to braid it. “What do you mean?”

“You say you didn’t kiss her, didn’t sleep with her. Yet you spent a majority of your time with her. You must’ve wanted her, at the very least. Why her?”

And not me, was the part you didn’t say aloud.

“Elain was only ever a friend.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “You weren’t interested in her? I find that hard to believe.”

“No, I….” Azriel’s fingers grazed along the back of your neck as he braided your hair, sending a shiver down your spine. He finally replied, “I felt something for her. But it wasn’t love.”

You remained silent as you turned to face him, waiting for him to elaborate. His shadows pooled around your hands, as if in an attempt to comfort you.

“For you to be my mate…I’ve never allowed myself that kind of vulnerability before. Not with anyone. Being with Elain was a way to deter you from wanting the bond. It was horrible. I regret it,” Azriel said.

“What makes you think I didn’t want the bond?”

Azriel blinked. “I didn’t think you’d want to be with someone like me.”

You remembered your conversation with Mor, a couple of weeks prior:

Azriel has always thought himself to be a bastard-born nobody, undeserving of anything good.

You asked, “You truly believe that I didn’t want to be with you?”

His lack of response was answer enough.

“Whether or not I wanted the bond was for me to decide, Azriel.”

“I know.” His shoulders slumped.

“You hurt me. Over and over. You should’ve come to me. Spoken to me about things, like an adult, rather than push me away.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what else to say to you,” you replied, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“I understand.”

“No. I don’t think you do.”

Azriel took one of your hands in his own. “Then tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp. “I need time.”

Hurt flashed in Azriel’s eyes as you pulled away, but he nodded. “I’ll wait. As long as you need.”

You didn’t stop him as he left your room.

~~~~~~~~

taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @1nksta1neddesk @naturakaashi @officialleehi @sirenpearldust @j-pendragonx @positivewitch @aria-chikage @kemillyfreitas @librafairy @bbycowboi @theotheory @cat-or-kitten @azriels-shadowsinger @anyzandy @orangecomfortfoods @stargirl1714 @bubybubsters @morrie-rose @rubygirly @woodland-mist @previousloversandmuses @valeridarkness @thelov3lybookworm @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @starlight-hope @venuseuripedis @tothestarsandwhateverend @llovelydove @infinitely-kate @luvmoo @ladespedidas @torchbearerkyle @whysoanxious @hannzoaks @harrystylesfan2686 @amieinghigh @portkeytomyworld @i-am-infinite @leafsandstarlight @naturakaashi @illyrian-dreamer @wannabewolf @marvelpotter @thegirlintheshadows101 @nastynesta @honeycriess @anxemoon @amysangel

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acotar smut #smut #female reader #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #Azriel smut #Azriel angst #acotar angst #angst

855 notes · View notes

claymoresword · 3 months

Text

I Choose Her | Chp: 19

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k

Warnings: heavy themes, character death, mention of violence, death, grief, (somehow) a sprinkle of fluff

Note: hello! finally we're here, this is looking like the second last chapter, which is bitter sweet but I suppose it has to end at some point :( also I know this one is shorter than usual, and since it is very plot driven it may not be as fun to read but I hope the fluff makes up for it! the next chapter will definitely be longer and hopefully less depressing overall lol. anyway, that's it, as always endless thanks for your patience. hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character

You can feel heat prickling your skin, the quidditch pitch is a fiery blaze and you could only afford to stare in helpless despair.

The quaffle hoops once stood large and tall, you've flown by them countless times during quidditch practice, and multiple house matches. One of the best memories you've made at Hogwarts– reduced to ash.

Now the wooden stands are nothing but kindling for the fire that devoured them, they come crashing down in pieces of hot red ember.

Smoke is all you can smell in the air, thick hot ash and fear.

You can't move, still– you observed as the flames licked another banner, Gryffindor or Slytherin, they were no match for it's fiery wrath.

More students sprint past, careless and panicked, nudging you in the process. Now you are forcefully pushed further into the doorway.

It works as a shock to your system, a part of you astrayed amidst the chaos, but you had to keep running, in search of Hermione.

You propell down the main hall, soon approaching the gallery.

“Y/n!” Blessedly, you finally hear your love call out to you, but it was a shout of warning.

Somehow, you manage to narrowly dodge the curse coming your way. “Avada Kedavra!” You cast in return, without thought, almost second nature.

The Death Eater is thrown backwards, slamming through a broken wall and into a pile of bricks.

Your plan to advance forward is interrupted as you feel a presence fall into you, arms wrapped tightly around your neck.

The scent of your girlfriend's perfume is now smothered by the smell of sweat and dirt, but it provides you comfort all the same.

“I thought you were– I thought I lost you.” Hermione mutters, scattered, and all you want to do is hold her, kiss her, and take her as far away from the castle as you possibly could.

But as much as you would like it to be, fleeing is not an option.

Instead you cup her face in your hands, committing each feature of hers to memory, every dip and freckle.

“I'm sorry.” You say.

“It all happened too fast, I don't know how we got separated.” You finish, still trying to make sense of mayhem. You've both come face to face with death half a dozen times tonight, maybe more.

None of it makes sense.

“Guys, come on!” Harry's voice forces Hermione to break your gaze, she then tugs on your arm, guiding you with her.

Soon you find yourselves in a steady jog down the hallway, you turn a corner only to be met with a sight that stops the four of you in your tracks.

Greyback was bent over the body of a girl, his jaw clamped firmly on her neck, draining all life from his victim.

“No!” Hermione shouts. Frantically, she throws a curse, causing the werewolf to crash through the wall behind him. Now the beast has been vanquished, but it is too late.

Atop rubble and ash, Lavender Brown laid stiff and colorless, entirely unlike herself.

Her eyes are open, yet they held no trace of her. The girl's mortal soul, taken by death– ever merciless and violent, tonight, he spares very few.

Harry is first to snap out of the terror induced trance that you found yourselves in, consequently followed by Hermione.

Soon you move as well, but as you glance at Ron, you can't bring yourself to take another step.

Despite yourself, you find your hand reaching out to grab his shoulder. “Come on, mate.” You coax, but the man doesn't react to your touch, or your voice.

He continues to stare at Lavender– and the sheer absence of her.

“She's gone– she isn't suffering anymore.” You offer, hoping Ron would find some solace in your words, however minute.

He does.

Nodding, the ginger haired boy tears his eyes away from his deceased lover. The four of you continue your journey through the courtyard and down the winding stairs towards the boathouse.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Hermione's ironclad grip on your forearm doesn't falter as you follow Harry's lead, quietly approaching the boathouse. The four of you immediately crouch out of sight as you caught movement inside.

Voldermort's voice, faint and unsettling, it makes your blood run cold.

He continues to deliver his thoughts with a tone closer to a whisper, the four of you are forced to strain your necks to listen.

Soon you make out a second voice, and you share a quick look amongst yourselves. Trying your hardest to make sense of what was being said between the Dark Lord, and Professor Snape.

“Tonight, when the boy comes, it will not fail you, I'm sure of it.”

“It answers to you, and you only.”

Unsettling silence fills the air once more, and you feel inclined to shift closer to Hermione.

“Does it?” Voldermort finally inquires, and it is followed by a lack of response, for a beat, you wonder if Snape was still present.

“My Lord?” The Professor eventually says.

“The wand, does it truly answer to me?”

“You're a clever man Severus, surely you must know.”

“Where does it's true loyalty lie?”

“With you, of course. My Lord.” The Professor replies with just a gleam of hesitation, and for a reason unknown to you, it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand.

“The Elder wand cannot serve me properly because I am not it's true master. The wand belongs to the wizard who killed it's last owner.” Voldermort continues.

“You killed Dumbledore, Severus.”

“While you live, the elder wand cannot truly be mine.”

“You've been a good and faithful servant, Severus, but only I can live forever.”

Then, Hermione turns to you, and you give her a similar look of horror in response.

“My Lord-” Severus’ response is strained.

None of you are given a chance to react before a loud thud is heard, you see the Professor's silhouette hitting the glass before you.

“Nagini, kill.”

The panel vibrates violently, but miraculously, it doesn't shatter.

The sound of Snape's body hitting the glass repeatedly with every deathly blow, makes the four of you jump.

Then a cold gust of wind surrounded the boathouse, and soon, it was quiet again. Only the sound of water, and the noise of a boat hitting the wooden dock everytime it swayed. Snape's shallow breathing, unsteady and helpless.

Harry is first to move, he enters the boathouse, and the rest of you can only trail after him silently.

“Professor–” You stutter as you catch sight of the man laying on the ground.

Snape was a formidable man, one you used to fear, even respected.

He has never looked so small.

Harry crouches beside him, he places his hand on the man's neck as Snape lets out a sob. The sight was so foreign that you had to look away.

“Take them– take them.” The man pleads, incoherent at first, but quickly Harry understands his request.

“Give me something, a flask, anything.” The chosen one orders, extending his arm toward Hermione.

Your girlfriend does as she is bid, fishing out the object from her bag before passing her best friend an empty vial.

You watched with bated breaths as Harry held it up to Snape's cheek, collecting the Professor's tears. Once he was done, he cuped the vial firmly in his grasp.

“Take them to the pensieve.” Snape orders with all that's left of his strength.

He was slipping away, you could see it, the way his head was nodding to the side as he slowly fell limp against the glass, his gaze far away and vacant.

The man whispers something intelligible to Harry, perhaps intended for his ears only. In half a heartbeat, Snape was dead.

–

Harry reaches over to gently shut the Professor's eyes.

You step closer, with the intention to lay Snape on the floor properly, so he may be put to rest with some dignity, but before you can suggest it, a blinding pain courses through your arm.

It makes you groan aloud.

Hermione reaches out for you, but then a voice penetrates the air, sudden and invasive.

The Dark Lord is merciless in his attempt, he has lost every ounce of patience– you could feel it in your arm.

Hermione clasps her hands over her ears as Voldermort delivers his second message.

“You have fought valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this.. every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat, in their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity.”

“Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the forbidden forest and confront your fate.”

“If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child, who tries to conceal you from me.”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

As the four of you walked through the empty courtyard, you can't help but notice just how quiet it was, something that would usually be considered a comfort, is now incredibly unnerving.

“Where is everybody?” Hermione asks, but her question is soon enough answered once you push the doors open to the Great Hall.

The space is unrecognizable.

A scene from a nightmare.

There is not a candle in sight, everyone operating on the bit of light provided by the moon. You spot Mr Filch, sequestered in a corner, miserably sweeping piles of rubble out of the way.

Your stomach turns as you make your way through, an endless line of bodies laid upon makeshift cots.

You can't help but look upon all their faces, one by one. All these bodies– they were once sons, daughters, somebody's friend or lover.

The air is snatched out of your lungs as you spot a familiar face.

Nymphadora Tonks lay unmoving beside her husband, their hands outstretched as if to touch each other– even in death.

“No..” You mutter in disbelief and Hermione follows your gaze, she let's out a sharp gasp.

It could have easily been you laying on that cot.

It could have been Hermione.

The thought alone made you nauseous, you could physically feel your stomach turn. You decide you had to get away before you wretched.

Before you could however, a desperate wail snatches your attention. You look up to find Ron in the distance, he sobs uncontrollably as he knelt over his brother's dead body.

You watched as Ginny held him, now they are both sobbing helplessly.

Molly could do all but console them. What agony it must be, to watch your children die before their time.

There is so much pain, too much– you had to get away.

You turn to leave the Great Hall, or what is left of it, with no destination in mind. You simply needed to escape.

Away from grief, away from death, if there was ever a chance of evading it tonight.

“Y/n!” Amidst suffocating torment, no voice has ever sounded as sweet. Hermione swiftly catches up to you, her hand slips into your own.

Your palm now felt calloused and rough. It is caked with dirt and dried blood, but Hermione holds it firmly in her own still.

“Don't leave without telling me like that, we can't separate again.” Hermione scolds, and you offer an apologetic look.

“I just need to get some air.” You explain, but Hermione doesn't question it, in desperate need of an escape herself.

“Come,” She merely coaxes, tugging on your arm.

You soon realize she aims to guide you somewhere secluded, but it seemed impossible. Everywhere you looked, it was death and destruction. Your home; a battlefield.. a gravesite.

After wandering for some time, you finally find a place to sit, the flight of stairs leading up to the Headmaster's Tower remains vacant and mostly intact. Although pieces of stone would break off from the sides ever so often, when compared to the rest of the castle, it was hardly worth acknowledging.

Hermione takes a seat on the step, gesturing for you to do the same next to her. Your girlfriend runs her fingers through your disheveled hair, tenderly moving it out of your face.

Neither of you speak just yet, even after all that's happened tonight, she manages to smile at you, honest and bright. It nearly breaks you.

The thought of living even a day without her was excruciating, you can't lose her tonight, under any circumstances.

“We'll be okay, we've made it this far.” Hermione utters out loud, as if she had just read your mind.

“It'll all be over soon.” Your girlfriend says, but you catch the faint tremor in her voice. She was fighting back tears.

Yet, you could only wrap your arm around her as she rests her head on your shoulder.

After a prolonged silence, you decide to redirect the topic of conversation, however macabre it may seem, you somehow saw it as the perfect opportunity.

Afterall, you could both use a little bit of joy right now.

“There's something I've wanted to ask you– it is going to sound mad, but I need to say it. before it's too late.” You stammer, a sudden sense of nervousness setting in, you take in a deep breath to calm yourself.

“What is it?” Hermione inquires, by the way her brows furrowed you could tell she was concerned as you spoke vaguely.

You quickly realize that it was too late to back out, you needed to take the leap, and hope that Hermione will catch you.

Amidst a sigh you stand up so you could move a step down.

“This is definitely not how I planned to do it, but–” You mutter, looking around before it occurred to you to utilise the ring you already had on your finger.

You take it off as you got down on one knee, albeit somewhat ungracefully. Hermione's eyes widen at the sight, but she doesn't say anything as of yet, watching you intently.

You extend your hand in front of you, and your girlfriend's gaze shifts to the Slytherin crest ring pinched between your index finger and your thumb.

“Hermione Jean Granger, if we make it out alive tonight– would you do me the incredible honor of being my wife?” You finally manage to utter the words you have longed to say.

Hermione's eyes were no longer wide in shock, but her expression is now unreadable. You couldn't tell if she was about to burst into tears or laugh in your face.

In the end, she does neither, but she still struggles to find the words.

“Y/n, I–” She stutters before averting her gaze.

“Are you sure?” Hermione finally asks, meeting your expectant stare, and you can't help but let out a chuckle.

“I have wanted you since the first moment. I knew I loved you from the first time you smiled at me. and I knew I wanted to marry you the first time you ran your fingers through my hair. and then our first kiss– I truly thought if we couldn't be together, I'd die.” You spoke from the heart without missing a beat, not caring about just how dramatic you might have sounded.

“I used to think that I'd be just fine on my own. I didn't believe that I could ever care for someone the way I do for you.” Your voice breaks ever so slightly, you swallow before continuing.

“Hermione when I'm not with you– it feels like I can't breathe.” You barely manage to say, your throat tightens, as a tear escapes your eye.

“my love–” Hermione coos, her own eyes now welling up with tears. She approaches to grab your forearm, although not harshly, she guides you back on your feet.

Your faces are mere inches away from each other before she would crash her lips against yours, a kiss that is restless and unchecked yet somehow equally tamed and loaded with love.

“Of course, I will marry you.” She declares once your lips part, she wipes the tear away with the pad of her thumb, and your heart sings.

You are unable to contain the large grin on your face, one Hermione had no issues reciprocating.

“Really?” You ask, mainly in relief rather than actual disbelief.

Hermione pauses as if thinking of an adequate response

“Well, I do think we should at least wait a year or two, at least until after we finish school.” Hermione admits, and you scoff, even in the midst of a war her priorities remain unchanged.

“but–” Hermione says, grabbing your face so she could force you to meet her gaze once more.

“It is a yes, without a doubt. I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else.” Your girlfriend states earnestly, and your smile returns.

You eagerly grab her hand so you may slip the ring onto her finger.

Hermione stares at the piece of jewelry, silently inspecting the intricate carving of a snake, before finally kissing you again.

The feeling of Hermione's lips against your own allowed you to forget the impending threat of death. With her you believe that you could survive anything. This war will be over soon, and you will marry her. Whatever it takes.

Hermione breaks the kiss only when you are both gasping for air, she embraces you tightly, as if trying to savor the feeling as much and for as long as she could.

Harry emerges from seemingly out of nowhere, you open your eyes as you hear footsteps. Hermione releases you so she may turn to her friend.

Harry's stare was distant, troubled. In truth, he looked sick. You dread to find out exactly what he's witnessed within Snape's memories, neither you nor Hermione mustered the will to ask.

Unexpectedly, Harry is first to break the silence.

“Where's Ron?” He mutters, finally looking between Hermione and yourself.

“He's with his family still.” Your girlfriend explains. Then the chosen one nods, and he starts to fade once more, disappearing into his own head.

“Harry what is it?” Hermione asks, when Harry looks up at her again, his eyes are glossed over with tears.

“There's a reason I can hear them, the Horcruxes.” He remarks. “I've known for awhile, and I think you have too.”

The newfound resolve in his voice makes your entire body stiffen, soon Hermione is crying again.

Harry possessed a bravery you once envied– but no longer.

He plans to confront the Dark Lord and the thought of it made you ill, he shouldn't have to go through it alone. It seems your girlfriend shared the same sentiment as she spoke her next words amidst soft sobs.

“I'll go with you–” She suggests, but her best friend is quick to turn her down.

“No, kill the snake.” Harry says, glancing between the two of you.

“Kill the snake and then it's just him.” He asserts. Hermione practically throws herself into his arms.

You watched as she cleaved to him hopelessly, Harry doing the same in return.

Soon, The Chosen One shifts his gaze towards something behind you, and you swiftly turn around to see Ron standing a few paces away.

The expression on his face suggests he had been standing there for some time.

His eyes were tired, glazed over with what resembled apathy– or perhaps the harrowing inevitably of acceptance. You could not say for certain.

One thing you did know; in order to defeat Voldermort, Harry Potter has to die.

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #harry potter #hermione granger smut

204 notes · View notes