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the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 1 month

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Remedy Epolouge

Pairing: Surgeon! Aemond Targaryen x fem! reader

Warning: mention of surgery, childbirth, fluff, Aemond's control issues

Summary: Even after a year of marriage, he was still a control freak.

Aemond got out of a 10-hour surgery, exhausted but happy with his work. The patient was stable and on their way to recovery.

Remedy Masterlist

He helped clean up the OR. A ritual he adopted in his resident years. It brought him peace. Like he was cleaning his mind. His phone dinged, indicating someone sent a text. During the operation, it had been unmuted. Everyone in the room knew that if his wife’s caller ID appeared on the screen, he would run to the maternity wing. But it did not happen. Which made Aemond’s anxiety increase. You were due any day now.

Ever since you reached the end of her pregnancy, he sat on pins and needles. He terrorised the nurse station daily to ask if the room he had booked for the arrival of his first kid was still available. They would nod, ensuring it was still free. Whenever the nurses of the maternity wing saw him coming their way, they just rolled their eyes. It became a habit to play rock, paper, and scissors for those who had to deal with him.

His overbearing nature got the best of him when you were over your estimated due date. He wanted to drive to the hospital and induce your labour. Talking gibberish while gathering your hospital bag and the car keys. It was the first and only time you ever slapped him. Hard. The look on his face was equal parts priceless but also heartbreaking. You loved him, you did. But he was overbearing and the constant worry got you out of the calm zone you had entered in your last pregnancy month. In plain words, you didn’t give a shit. If the baby needed more time, so be it. You were late to most of your things too. Your baby would inherit your tardiness to the annoyance of Aemond.

After finishing cleaning he walked out to the sight of a nurse who he had seen often. She stood right outside the operation room, smiling nervously at him. Shifting from one foot to the other. He didn’t need a psychology degree to know she was beyond nervous. „Hey, Aemond. First off, it was your wife. She told me to say you should not yell at me. It was her decision not to call. She is now in labour. Her contractions set in about an hour ago, but her water has not yet broken.“

His good eye seemed to pierce through the nurse. His anger simmering. They had a deal. She would call, and he would run. He took a deep breath in to get his anger to settle. Same breathing technique as the one you would use right now to reduce pain.

He nodded softly. „She is in the room?“ The nurse nodded. Aemond didn’t wait, he began to sprint through the hospital. Past numerous hospital staff and patients. Watching out not to crash into them. He didn’t care about any strange looks he got, his wife was in labour.

As he ran past the nurse station of the surgeon department he stopped for a short while. „Cancel all my other appointments, she is in labour.“

As fast as he came, as fast he was gone. The nurses looked after him, raising their brows and shrugging their shoulders. They had done that an hour ago. The operations were redirected to other surgeons and meetings were postponed. News spread fast in this hospital, especially the news of a doctor’s child being born.

Aemond crashed into the doorpost before he hastily made his way into the room. His breathing was ragged and his clothes were in disarray.

You were walking around the room, setting up your stuff while breathing like you learned in the baby classes. You held up the grey baby blanket with the bees embroidered on it. Smiling to yourself as you would hold your little one in it in a few hours. You felt like you smoked a joint as you walked around the room. But you didn’t take anything and the nurses hadn’t offered anything other than the question about an epidural, you declined.

Aemond walked in, sweat dripping down his face as he took you in. He could see who the laid-back parent would be, letting their kid eat dirt and who would be the helicopter parent.

„Are you alright?“ „How was the surgery? Everything went well?“ „Yes, the patient lives. How are you?“ He impatiently asked. His breath was short and ragged. His eyes were wide with panic.

You turned your gaze to him and smiled. „I am fine. The contractions are still half an hour apart. My next one should be in ten minutes. I stopped eating before you went to work. And I eat ice chips to stay hydrated. Is that all you need, doc?“ You smiled at him with an amused little smile.

Aemond rolled his eyes. You got so used to him going into doctor mode the last nine months. You knew what to say to each of his subtle questions. „Thank you, my darling.“ He whispered before kissing your forehead. „Baby in the right position?“ You nodded again. „They are. It feels like I have to pee constantly but it’s not the case.“

Malaenys Targaryen was born at three past five in the afternoon. She weighed 2580 grams and was 45 centimetres. She came into the world with a shrill cry. Her limps kicked at the nurses until she was swaddled into her bee blanket and put into Aemond’s arms.

Aemond had never been more in love and at the same time so scared of his wife as when she gave birth. He had nearly delivered their daughter himself if you didn’t yank him back to your side and threatened to send him home instead of letting him stay overnight with them if he didn’t calm down already and let the doctors, who had a lot of experience in this field, do their job. You looked so calm when you threatened him. The threatening smile at the end slightly aroused him.

As you slept, Aemond sat on the bed sofa, holding his sweet little girl in his arms. Watching her eyes move behind her eyelids. Her pale silver eyelashes framed her little periwinkle eyes hidden by her lids. A tuft of silver-white hair covered her little head. Her chubby cheeks pressed into his chest as she lay on him.

He caressed her back softly. Her breathing was small. Sometimes little grunts left her lips. Aemond chuckled at how cute they sounded. The anxiety and panic he felt were gone.

He never knew he could fall in love so hard and fast as he fell for you and now your daughter. He will not be an easy father, he hoped Malaenys wouldn’t be a handful during puberty, and he knew he would be an absolute pain in the ass for every single teacher of his precious little girl. But he knew he had you at his side. He knew he could make a great father as long as you were around.

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lykegenia · 8 months

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So something has been bugging me for a while now about A and N’s backstories, and while I know not everyone will be as pedantic as me, as someone who loves history and has done a lot of writing, I feel that if you’re going to write a story about vampires and give them a specific time and date of origin, then there should be a certain level of research that goes into making that background authentic. I'm not saying that Mishka didn’t do any research. It just seems that in order to keep the vibe of a happy, mellow fantasy some of the less savoury aspects of A and N’s upbringings have been left out, and it's a shame. To be honest, it feels a bit disingenuous, and it feels like an opportunity got wasted.

Let me explain (long post got long, it's 2am)

Let's take A first, since the problem is simpler here.

A is the child of a Norman lord and an Anglo-Saxon noblewoman, born in the first generation after the Norman Conquest of England in 1066. A says that these were turbulent times but that their parents had a happy marriage. Which. While I’m sure a lot of unions in that time period made the best of it, I can’t help but feel this description strips away a lot of the context of what was going on at that point in history - and removes some of the complexity about A’s thoughts on love and relationships.

Basically, after he took control of the throne, William the Conqueror stripped many Anglo-Saxon lords of their lands and titles so he could give them to his Norman buddies instead - with the added bonus that it left the Anglo-Saxons without the means to raise armies against him. The sisters, daughters, and widows of the dispossessed Anglo-Saxons were then forced to marry these new Norman lords to legitimise their power, not infrequently after all of their male relatives had been slaughtered. It’s not as if Anglo-Saxon women weren’t used to being used as political chess pieces, but the years after the conquest were brutal. It’s why William had to build so many castles. The point that I’m trying to make is that even if A’s mother was content enough in her daily life, due to the power imbalance between her and her husband, it's very likely she had little choice in the matter. She may have seen a lot of her family killed for political reasons, with the knowledge that – in an age where women had very little protection outside of their paternal household – she might be next if she made too much of a fuss.

It would be fascinating to see what effect that tension has had on A 900 years later, or even to get an acknowledgement of how much times have changed, but we don’t. We don't see how their early years affected them, how they view relationships formed naturally instead of via political contracts. And I really, really wish we did. There is so much potential there.

But A is not the one keeping me up past 2 in the morning. It’s N, and the utter detachment their backstory seems to have from the period in history they lived in as a human. And it all stems from the fact that they came from the English nobility in the late 1600s.

See, the bulk of the problem is that English inheritance law at the time heavily favoured primogeniture, where a man’s wealth would go to his first-born son. Some dispensation was made for widows and other children, but the estates, assets, and most of the money had a very clear destination.

For one thing, this makes it kinda weird that N’s stepfather would have needed an heir before he could inherit, because except in extreme circumstances everything would have gone to him anyway. Don't get me wrong, this isn't the worst part of the problem, it’s just annoying when there are more plausible reasons for him marrying a woman already pregnant with another man’s child (old family friend wanting to save her from disgrace, needed the dowry to pay off gambling debts, there was a longstanding betrothal between them that would have been tricky to get out of, etc.).

No, the bigger problem with N’s backstory vs primogeniture is firstly that at the time the English aristocracy was racist af (still is tbh) and given his pretty obvious mixed-race heritage, no court would have agreed that Nate was a legitimate son (this is for a very special reason that we will be coming back to). I say Nate specifically here because primogeniture requires the eldest legitimate son. Nat wouldn’t have inherited at all, as women in that period passed from the guardianship of their father (or other male blood relative) into that of their husband after marriage, and only gained any kind of independence with widowhood. If N had been an only child, maybe they would have been treated as a special case, but unfortunately Milton exists: the eldest legitimate son who by law will inherit everything.

Now here’s the thing. Your average aristocrat in the 17th century is very obsessed with lineage and keeping the family line unbroken. He would not, therefore, send his legitimate heir to sea to be shot at or drowned before he can carry on the family name – that joy instead goes to any other sons who need their own profession, because again, they will get very little. Nat would have had a dowry, but would never have been expected to make her own living, so I'm going to focuson Nate for this next bit.

In Book 3, if you unlock his tragic backstory Nate tells you he joined the Royal Navy after Milton went missing so that he could go look for him. And, well. This is where his backstory as Mishka tells it completely falls apart. For two reasons:

1. Even in the modern day, you can’t ‘just’ join the Navy, and you certainly can’t just jump straight to being a lieutenant – it takes years of training and after a certain age they won’t take you because they won’t be able to mould you easily enough into a useful tool. For most of the Navy's history, the process was even more involved. It wasn’t an office job you could just rock up to and then quit if you felt like it, it was a lifetime commitment. Boys destined to be officers would be sent to sea as early as 12 to learn shipboard life, starting at the bottom and moving up the ranks. These were gained by passing exams and by purchasing a commission – which is why you generally had to come from wealth to be an officer at all. Once you get to lieutenant you're responsible for a lot of people, and might be tasked with commanding any captured ships alongside the daily running of yours - it was not an easy job.

2. Even as a lieutenant (one rank below Captain, with varying levels of seniority) it’s not like you can just go where you want. In the 1720s British colonies already existed in India, the Caribbean, and up the entire eastern seaboard of North America and into Canada, and the Navy was tasked with protecting merchant shipping along these seaways (and one trade in particular that we’ll be getting to, don’t worry). Nate could have ended up practically anywhere in the burgeoning empire. He would not have been able to choose whom he served under, and would not have been able to demand his superior officer go against orders from the admirality to chase down one lone vessel because he thinks another one of the admirals might be a bit dodgy. It could not have happened.

Besides these impracticalities, there’s a far easier way for the child of a wealthy man to get to a specific point on the far side of the globe to look for their lost sibling, which is the route I assume Nat took sine she couldn’t have joined the Navy (yes she could have snuck in but she’s specifically in a dress in the B2 mirror scene so). All they'd have to do would be to charter a ship and tell the captain where to go, which is the plot of Treasure Island. It's quicker, less fuss, with less chance of things going wrong. It's even possible in the age of mercantilism that the Sewells had some merchant vessels among their holdings that could be diverted for the task. Why go through the hassle of joining the Navy and potentially ending up on the wrong side of the world when you can just hire a ship directly?

If Nate does have to be in the Navy (and let’s face it, it’s worth it just for the uniform) then it's far more plausible is that, as the illegitimate son who would not inherit because of racism etc, he got sent to the Navy as a boy and rose through the ranks to become a lieutenant. When he got news of Milton’s disappearance not far from where he was stationed, he begged his captain to go investigate in case whatever happened turned out to be the symptom of a bigger problem. Like pirates.

I like this version better not just because it makes more sense, or because it keeps Nate’s situation re: inheritance closer to Nat’s and therefore makes their stories more equal, but also because it adds a delicious amount of guilt to Nate’s need to find his brother. We know his entire crew died looking for answers, because he was selfish – that’s roughly 100-400 lives lost because of him, and we know that sort of thing eats at him.

So that's one side of the story, but if Milton wasn’t in the Navy, what was he doing on the other side of the Atlantic in the first place? Well, this is where we come to the biggest elephant in the room regarding N’s backstory as a member of the 17th century English aristocracy and potentially as a naval officer: the Atlantic Slave Trade. If you are wealthy in 17th century Britain it's more than likely that your wealth comes either from the trade itself, or from the products made with the labour of enslaved people. If you are wealthy, you want to protect your assets from attack by pirates or foreign powers so you don't become less wealthy, and that is what the Navy is for.

Regardless of N’s own views on slavery at the time – and any subsequent changes in opinion – it’s likely their family owned or had shares in slave plantations in the Americas. As distasteful as it is, it makes far more sense that Milton was on a trip to check the family’s holdings when his ship - specifically a merchant vessel - went missing. From a pirate perspective, a merchant ship would make a much better target than a Navy vessel, being slower, more likely to have valuable cargo, and less likely to have marines or a well-trained broadside.

It's not surprising that Mishka left out the subject of the slave trade given her tendency to skirt around darker subjects and general blindspot for racial politics, but it is nuance that, if it was there, would create a more grounded and coherent backstory for N that doesn’t have quite so many holes. Like with A being the child of an invader and his war bride, we could get some deeper thoughts from N about their place in the world - How do they feel to have grown up so privileged when others who looked like them were regarded as literal property? How did they feel being part of the system that made it happen? Did it inform their compassionate nature? Is it still a source of guilt or someithng they've tried to make up for?

I'm not sure where I was going with all of this. It's late, my sleep pattern is fucked. The tl;dr is that giving the vampires' backstories historical context would make them feel more multifaceted and would give opportunities for character growth that are instead missed because of a desire for a more sanitized version of the past.

#thank you for coming to my ted talk #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #a du mortain #adam du mortain #ava du mortain #n sewell #nate sewell #nat sewell #it's annoying because it’s such a small tweak in the grand scheme of things #If she didn’t want unfortunate implications she could have made N from a century later when the navy was actively trying to stop slavery #A could have been from a 50 years earlier to tie his whole family’s demise into the subjugation of the english after the battle of hastings #or a century later when the two courts had mostly integrated #mishka made choices #they deserve to be given more substance than mere aesthetics #you can tell it’s late I’m using long words

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azucarmorena97 · 1 month

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Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.8)

Pt.7 || Pt.9

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

CHAPTER WARNING: SMUT!

Recap: That thick tension that's been lingering in the air from the moment you first looked at each other- anger, curiosity, bitterness, longing- it's here in this room right now. Every logical thought your mind would normally throw at you to stop you from indulging, is completely crushed under this desire...the desire to know one another fully. Somehow, the two-foot space has closed to an inch. So close, you can feel the heat radiating off of his face and onto yours; his eyes almost completely closed. He's ready...are you?

Your heart is beating so hard, you hear it in your ears- it mixes with the sound of his breathing, and your breathing, and his heartbeat; before you can fully even decide what to do, your lips act on their own. Or rather, they act on your heart's true desire. Curse these lips... It's nothing like you imagined it would be, and yet it is- and yet, it's more. "Please, don't go..." He whispers to you with parted lips, and it causes your heart to stir. Only hours ago, you were certain you hated him- that you were only going through with this marriage as a favor to your parents, to secure your future- But who did you follow Jungkook up to this desolate room for? Who did you kiss him for? Whose is this heart that won't keep still for him? You. You. Yours. Only yours.

You don't answer him; instead, you bring your hand up to the side of his face and deepen the kiss. This isn't like you. You've never done this before. Sure, your first kiss was long ago had during a game of spin the bottle, and yes, eighth grade had its fair share of games of 7 Minutes in Heaven where this boy or that would try to cup your then-non-existent chest- but you would always stop it before it got any further. You knew that wasn't love. You knew it was all fleeting. You knew you were promised to someone else... Promised to Jungkook.

His large hands come to rest on your waist, though only for a moment; they begin to run down to the seam of your jeans. He wants to feel every inch of you, but he's never been one to rush. You pull away momentarily to take in a breath, but he is completely uninhibited, moving from your lips and to your neck- eliciting a gentle gasp from you. You can't help the delicious sensation, nor the way your eyes roll back in response. You have to tell him before it goes any further. God, how embarrassing. "J-Jungkook," You can barely get the words out. "Mm?" He hums into your sensitive skin. For a moment, you wonder if you even should. Would it ruin the moment? "I-I have to tell you something," Your words com out sooner than your body is ready to respond, as your hair is still tangled in his hair and pressing him to yourself.

He stops before you do, pulling away gently. "What is it?" His tone is gentle, and his brown eyes look at you so softly.

"I...I uhm...I wanted to tell you that I..." You can hardly get the words out. You're suddenly so regretful of having opened your mouth at all. "Nevermind!" You say, trying to lean in again, though he pulls back further.

"What is it?" He laughs, finding your shyness to be both endearing and incredibly attractive.

You stare at him, biting your lip from nervousness before deciding to just bite the bullet. You throw your hands over your eyes and blurt out, "I'm a virgin."

Silence follows. Silence so loud that, if it wasn't because you could still feel the heat radiating off of his body, you would've thought he'd left.

After a moment, he gingerly removes your hands from your face- though you dare not open your eyes.

"Y/n," His voice is like honey. "Yeah...?" "Open your eyes, you goof."

His playful tone surprises you, and you finally do open your eyes.

He doesn't look upset at all- or annoyed.

"Thank you for telling me," This time, he brings his hand up to your face and lets it rest on your cheek, his thumb stroking ever so gently. "You're welcome..." You blush red, unable to say anything else.

"We don't have to do anything, you know. I don't want you to think I brought you up here for that. I really did just want to talk and then- and then we had this moment, you know and-" "I want to."

He's stunned by your response and it takes him a second to process, "You- you do want to?"

"Yeah...I just...wanted you to know so that we can take it a little slow..." Sheepish is the only way to explain how you feel. You're not sure if it's normal or common for a girl to openly say that she wants sex, but none of this is normal.

You and Jungkook are not normal people. And maybe that's why you trust him so...at least with this. "Okay," He smiles, leaning in and kissing your nose, "Come."

He stands and grabs your hand, pulling you lightly as he'd done leading you up here.

Though the room hasn't been 'in use' for a while, it's still very clean and well maintained. You'd have thought it sat waiting for a guest to come at any moment.

He leads you through white double doors that divided the living area from a beautiful, neat bedroom. The bed is about the same size as the one in your room, though there's also a small couch and a wardrobe. Not to mention, a giant mirror on the far side of the bedroom, opposite the window.

"Sit down, if you want," He says before disappearing into the connecting bathroom.

You sit down on the bed, admiring the small details in the room- desperately trying not to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, as you'd thrown on jeans and a hoodie to meet Jungkook at the bar, definitely not having expected for any of this to happen.

He comes out of the bathroom holding a small speaker and setting it on the nightstand. Oh Lord, you think, what kind of cheesy sex playlist is he gonna put on?

To your surprise, a soft piano melody begins to play; one that your recognize.

"Is- is this Wait for Me?" You ask incredulously.

His eyes light up, "You know it?"

"Of course...Motopony is great."

He smiles and walks over to sit next to you on the edge of the bed- but he doesn't touch you right away. Instead, he lets himself fall backward onto the white comforter, his loose button up opening ever so slightly to expose a good amount of his chest.

He doesn't ask you to do the same, just silently stares up at the ceiling- it makes you want to do the same.

For years, you've heard people say that your first time isn't as special as the movies make it seem. They say it's something to just get done and move on from so you can start having good sex- and maybe that's true for some people, but this? You like this.

You lay down next to him, staring at the ceiling too.

"You know, I liked you from the moment I saw you." You snort, "Yeah, right." "I'm serious," He says with a smile, "As difficult as it may seem, considering your so beastly and unlikeable-" You playfully elbow him, "Shut up." "But I did."

"Oh please, you looked at me like I was a bug on the windshield." "And you are, but...I don't know. You have this way about you. You don't take shit from anyone. You say what you want and you stick to it."

"Except with my parents," You say, solemnly. "What are you on about? When I saw you renegotiate that contract with my parents- if you can even call it a renegotiation, considering you just walked in and laid down the law- I thought you were on of the bravest girls I've ever known...it must've been hard for you to have gotten it past your parents, and then..." "And then?" You ask, looking over at him. "...and then when you defended me to my parents...when you saw my dad about to tear into me and you explained how much I was gonna be sacrificing for their dream..." He turns to you, "No one ever defends me...not like that...not at all."

Your heart aches for him in that moment. Staring back at you, is not the man Jungkook, but the gentle soul within the man...

Without another word, you both lean in again. Though this time, you really are ready.

The kiss is gentle for only a second, before you're both dissolving hungrily into each other. With one swift motion, he's lifting your hoodie up and over your head, tossing it aside- exposing your thin, lacy bralette. You're suddenly aware of the slight chill in the bedroom, causing your nipples to perk up through the thin fabric. He stares in awe of the heavenly sight, his pants instantly tighter.

"Can I...?" He asks, lightly tugging on one of the straps. You nod wordlessly, smiling at his politeness.

Is he always this polite with women?

He gently brings down the strip, pulling the fabric down that once clothed your pert breast. He brings his large hand up and takes you into his mouth, licking languid circles around your nipple. "Ah," You moan, the sensation somehow everpresent even between your legs.

Amazing how the human body works, isn't it?

His teeth graze gently against the flesh, nibbling just enough while his hand plays with your other clothed nipple.

"It feels so good," You whisper, relishing in this new feeling. 7 Minutes in Heaven has nothing on this.

"Just wait," He says with a smirk, suddenly bringing his hand down to the button of your jeans. Excitedly, you stare into his eyes- waiting for the precise moment in which his fingers find- "Oh," You squeal, his fingers resting on your clit, though he doesn't move them much.

He's intent on building up your arousal.

"What's wrong, Y/n?" He asks, the smirk never leaving his face, "Feel good?" "Mhm," Is all you can manage as he begins rubbing in small circular motions, bringing his tongue back onto your nipple.

Your quiet for a little, afraid that any noise- any breath at all- will mess up this feeling.

"No, no, beautiful," He says, voice low and slow. He called you beautiful, Y/n.

"I want you to breathe through this." "O-okay," You whimper, disobeying your own judgment and following his instructions. Anything to be called beautiful by him again.

With every deep breath, you relaxed more and more- he's right- this feeling is intensifying beyond what you could imagine.

You've never known what it's like to cum. If you're being completely honest, you've tried before- on yourself, but nothing ever seemed to happen the way it did for other girls. You even wondered if it would ever be possible for you to ever reach an orgasm-

but here Jungkook is, driving you absolutely mad with just a touch. Without a moment's notice, he's plunging two finger slowly into you, measuring how absolutely tight you are. "Fuck," You can't help but swear in his ear, which seems only to egg him on.

"Tell me how it feels, beautiful." "It feels good." "No, no. Tell me more. Good isn't good enough," He picks up the pace a reasonable amount, the palm of his hand beginning to slap against your clit in the absolute best way possible.

"It's fucking wonderful- please, keep- keep going," You feel your abdominal muscles tightening, "Shit, Jungkook."

"Not yet," He says, taking his fingers out, leaving you in absolute shock at the sudden emptiness between your legs.

He swiftly gets up and walks around to the end of the bed, leaning forward and snaking his arms around your thighs to yank you closer to the edge. He quickly takes down your jeans and underwear together, easily getting them off of you and onto a heap on the ground. You'll worry about finding your various articles of clothing later.

He gets on his knees, letting you rest your legs on his shoulders, "Look at you," he says hungrily, his eyes absolutely eating your pussy up before his tongue even has a chance to taste.

You feel shy about his eyes on you, but the vulnerability also feel oddly exhilerating.

He resumes playing with your pussy for a little, getting you back up to where you were, but then he switches to his mouth- and boy, does he know how to use that mouth.

His lips suck gently on your clit, a sensation you've never felt in your life- and one you could gladly get used to.

"Oh God," You hiss, trying to breathe as he said to do but finding it oh so difficult.

"What's wrong, beautiful? Cat got your tongue?" He teases between licks.

Again, your abdominals begin to contract and you feel yourself close- close to what? You suppose you'll find out in a moment or two.

Without ceasing his mouthwork, he plunges his fingers inside of you again, getting you closer and closer until your heat is threatening to burst.

"Jungkook, I think- I think-" You can't even get the words out before you finally do burst- a reaction you never thought yourself capable of. Without any hesitation at all, Jungkook is slurping up your orgasm with thirsty desperation, a warm satisfaction radiating throughout his body at the fact that it was he who first elicited such a response from you.

You pant heavily, overwhelmed by this experience, though it's in the best way possible. Your body occasionally juts from the stimulation of his tongue on your worn clit.

With a smile on his face, he emerges from between your legs- his face transforming from depraved beast and back to a puppy dog expression, though you can still see his chin glistening.

There's something about that sweet expression that makes want to go again. To go all the way. "Come here," You say.

He climbs over you just to plop down in the empty space on your left side. You're not sure what comes over you, but you bring him closer and let the tip of your tongue glide from his chin to his lips, tasting yourself on him like a serpent tastes its very oxygen.

Now, it's you who is depraved and ready to ravage him. Virginity be damned.

You let your fingertips trail down the small portion of exposed chest to the first button on his shirt, somehow managing to blindly unbutton every single one as you kiss him deeply and passionately.

Once the final button is undone, you climb over him so that you sit straddling his waist, and now youu're the one taking a moment to admire his beautifully sculpted chest, along with the tattoos that seem to poke out from the top of his shoulder. You'd never seen them before, "Take it off," You command.

He smiles up at you, eyes wide in astonishment at your ability to take charge. He obeys, wiggling out of his shirt. When you're able to see his arms fully, you find yourself newly aroused as your let your hand touch every centimeter of his inked skin.

He brings his hands to rest on your waist, his eyes unsure of whether to fixate on your ethereal face or full breasts.

You begin to grind slowly on him, his pants still in the way of you being able to feel him- but you're okay for now. You want to build the moment too.

You want him to be as desperate for release as he had made you feel.

He helps your hips with his hands, thumbs digging gently into your flesh, the occasional sweet sting of a slap on your ass driving you wild.

You move down slightly so you can undo his pants, pulling them down a bit to expose his- rather large- bulge, covered by the thin fabric of his boxer-briefs. Suddenly, you feel a bit nervous again.

You've bit off way more than you can chew- what if it hurts? What if he's too big?

"Y/n?" His gentle voice breaks you out of your thoughts, "Are you okay? We can stop if you want?" His gentleness brings you at ease, "Can...can we take it slow again?" "Of course," he says, propping himself up and kissing you, "Take your time, beautiful."

You get off of him and slide his jeans off as he'd done for you, though you leave his underwear on. You want a moment to familiarize yourself with him...with all of him.

His erection stands tall, especially unencumbered by the thick fabric of his jeans. "You're so big," You say gently, not even trying to be sexy- just stating a fact.

"Thanks," He says sheepishly.

"Can I...?" This time, you ask for permission, tugging on his waist band.

"Go ahead," He says with a smile, leaning back with his arms resting behind his head. Intent on letting you explore, he takes slow and steady breaths.

You slowly bring down the waist band, bracing yourself- Throughout your schooling, you've seen maps and diagrams of the human body. You're aware of what a penis generally looks like- or at least, you thought you were aware- but nothing would have prepared you for the size,

Or for how it would make your mouth water.

You take it into your hand, analyzing how your grip leaves a few centimeters of space between your fingers- nice and thick.

"Mm," He groans, excited to be touched by you, the warmth of your hand giving him instant relief.

Gently, you stroke up and down, loving how the slightest touch makes him react so.

"You wanna spit on it?" He suggests, eyes fixed on your mouth. You smile, leaning in and pursing your pretty lips to let a wad of spit fall onto the tip of it. That pretty, pink tip.

You work the spit up and down his shaft, though you can hardly help yourself and, before you know it, you're taking him into your mouth.

It's all experimental at first- this is your first time touching a penis, after all, but within minutes, it becomes second nature. You're careful to avoid your teeth as you bob your head.

"Oh, fuck," He moans, his fingers softly playing with your hair- he's trying desperately not to be too rough- he wants you to explore at your own pace, but God, you're driving him absolutely insane.

"Am I doing a good job?" You ask, your eyes becoming doe-like and innocent, though of course, you already know the answer.

"Yes, Y/n. You're doing a good job, my beautiful girl," He says through gritted teeth.

You love his pet name...Oh, to be called Beautiful always.

You watch his tip gradually become wetter and wetter as he prepares himself, involuntarily, for you.

Finally, you get up and help him out of his underwear, the both of you now fully exposed to one another- uninhibited by a single article of clothing.

"I think I'm ready," You say with a shy smile.

He nods, his smile soft and warm.

You climb back on him, straddling him once more- he leans back and leaves his arms at his sides, waiting for you to tell him when to touch you.

You're nervous, heartbeat furious in your chest as you grab his dick, guiding it slowly so that is rubs against your pussy a few times- you want to make sure it's wet enough.

Finally, it's positioned so that you can lower yourself onto it. Ever so steadily, you ease onto his thick member, easy at first. You watch as h closes his eyes, his mouth falling open slightly. Though you can't fully focus on him- you're busy listening to your body's natural reactions- then a sudden sharp sting- almost like a knife stabbing through a taut cloth, and then...a sea. Truly, a sea of wetness forms within you, easing your pain so that now, the pain becomes a dull sensation.

"You're- you're so wet," He moans, trying not to lose himself in you. He's aware that any sudden move can prove too uncomfortable for you. "Does- does it feels good?" You ask, suddenly really self-conscious of your inexprience.

"Absolutely, Beautiful good...so, so good..." He can't help but begin thrusting gently up into you. He's desperate for it. Smoother than silk, your pussy has got him unraveling already. You smile, feeling now a bit braver. You begin moving up and down as well, balancing yourself on the balls of your feet. "Can- can I go a little faster?" He asks, furrowing his brows with pleasure. "Yes, Jungkook." It's as though hearing his name breathed so sensually has flipped a switch in him, and now he's grabbing ahold of your waist, thrusting deeper and deeper into you, though not so that he'll hurt you- just enough to make it interesting.

"Fuck, Y/n. You feel amazing....do you like how I feel inside you?" He asks, bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek as you continue to work on him. Your cheeks burn under his touch, "I do- you're so big," You say, locking eyes with him. "I want you to do me a favor, okay?" He says, to which you nod. "I want you to rub your clit on me while I fuck you, okay? Grind your pussy down on me, that's how it'll make it feel good." "Okay," You say, eager to please him. You get off the balls of your feet and switch so that you're on your knees, driving him deeper into you. "Fuck," You let out as you finally feel his pelvic bone against your heat. Slowly, you begin grinding forward and backward, the sensation similar to when his palm was slapping against it earlier, though this is much more intense.

"You see, baby? Isn't that better?" His tone makes you absolutely feral. You could have him talk in your ear like that all night. "It does," You rub harder, another orgasm already building up inside you, "Jungkook, I think I'm gonna cum again." "That's it, baby. Make yourself cum again," He coaches. "Okay, okay, okay," You repeat, stuck on a loop as your brain seems to short circuit- all you can think or feel is this pleasure.

With a loud moan, your pussy is pulsing against him in waves of euphoria, you throw your head back in a sudden spasm and then slow down your rhythm, though Jungkook is still going- a delightfully welcomed moment of overstimulation. You want to see what it's like when he reaches that point too.

"Beautiful, when I say, I'm gonna need you to get off okay?" He says throw short gasps. Now who's forgetting to breathe?

"Okay, Jungkook," You say, holding yourself still so he can hold onto you, pounding into you a few more times, "Now," He says, to which your respond by quickly rolling over.

You watch as his cock immediately shoots out that thick milky substance up into the air and then as it drops back down onto his stomach. His face is that of utmost joyousness and delight, "Ah," He breathes, his hand pumping his dick a few times to make sure he's milked every last drop.

He is a sight to behold as he coms down from his high; like Michelangelo's David.

"Wow..." You say simply.

"Wow," He smiles, looking over at you, reaching over to lightly pinch your cheek.

"What did you think?" He asked. "Well, I can honestly say it was the best I've ever had." "Oh shut up," He chuckles, though he brings you in closer to him. Being in his arms like this...it's one of the nicest feelings you've ever experienced. No man has ever shown you this level of affection, and knowing he's the first...it feels good. It feels right.

After a moment, he pulls away, covering his crotch sheepishly, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom really quickly."

You laugh and wave him away, taking the opportunity to stretch out on the bed. Bliss; that's the only way to describe this present feeling.

A vibration against the nightstand brings you out of your daze and when you look over, you realize it's Jungkook's phone- and then you realize it's a text... from Lisa.

𝗟𝗶𝘀𝗮: 𝗞𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗲, 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 <𝟯

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. You look over at the bathroom door, still closed, though you've heard a flush.

Without another thought, you dart out of the bed, quickly yanking on your clothes, making sure to leave absolutely no trace of yourself behind in that room.

You finally hear the bathroom door open though when you do, the hotel room door is already clicking shut behind you.

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed this spicy one! Took me all day to write. Clearly, it's about to get juicy.

#bts #jungkook #suga #bts imagine #jin #namjoon #jimin #bangtan sonyeondan #angst #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic

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lady-of-the-english · 3 months

Text

Tommy and Grace and Marriage Part 1

Something that always struck when when originally watching, and then rewatching, Peaky Blinders was how much Tommy wanted to marry Grace and thus how resentful he was that "work" (i.e. Russians) crashed the day he'd been looking forward to for years.

We first get to see Tommy's desire back in 1919, in season 1, episode 5, after they sleep together. We see that he defines their relationship as a true partnership.

After sleeping with her and next to her, for the first time since the war, he doesn't "hear the shovels against the wall," and he asks her to "help me with everything. The whole fucking thing. Fucking life...business. I found you and you found me. We'll help each other."

Tommy offers both a plea and a promise. With Grace, he found a true sense of love, home, and safety. He is willing to be his most vulnerable with her. As "people look different at home," in seeing her there, he hopes and asks to stay. For the first time, "life" comes before "business" with Tommy. He wants to provide her with all that she gives him. With Grace, he has the strength and courage to truly live.

The episode thematically ends with "Bring it On" by Nick Cave," emphasizing his sense of feeling strongest with Grace with the following lyrics:

"This garden that I built for you/that you sit in now and yearn/I will never leave it dear/I could not bear to return/and find it all untended/with the trees all bended low/this garden is our home, dear/and I got nowhere else to go/So, bring it on/Bring it on/Every little tear/Bring it on/Every useless fear."

In the following episode, Tommy shares with Grace his fantasy and plans - that they will share a life and "home."

He promises her that at "the next family meeting, I'll make sure you're there." When Grace argues that she's not family, he says back, "That could change," implying a future proposal and marriage.

He continues that flirtation. When Grace asks when they can talk so she can confess to him, he teases her, saying, "Oh, is this how it's going to be, eh? You waiting at home for me, saying 'What time do you call this?'".

Seeing that Grace is upset as she is wiping away tears, Tommy walks it back, reassuring that "I was joking" and that "I'm not talking about marriage," but I think that is a lie.

I think he is absolutely is thinking about marriage and the rest of their lives together. And he is afraid that he is scaring her off.

When Grace tells him, "When you come back from the races, I won't be here," he asks, "What are you talking about?" But he doesn't let her answer.

He immediately jumps in with reassurances, trying to convince her to stay and be with him. He assumes that she is afraid of being with him and that the life he can offer her isn't one she is used to or interested in.

His own insecurities and plans come out: "Grace, I know you weren't born to be with a man like me. But I'm turning things around." He emphasizes that he's going off to get the "biggest legal racetrack syndicates in the country and I'm going to close down some of that other stuff."

He touches her face to get her full attention and asks her to "remember" that her contract is with a legal "real limited company," asserting that he'll keep her safe and away from the illegal business that he wants to get out himself.

When Grace replies that she "remembers everything," we see Tommy's full desperation. He swears, repeating, "I am going to make a success of this. I am going to make a success of it. I am."

And then he switches to what is most important to him about their relationship. If marriage scares her, then he asserts that "I'm not talking about marriage," as he is willing to wait for that. For he does stumble and hesitate after saying this. He trails off, saying, "I'm so..." as he doesn't know what to say, as marriage absolutely is what he was talking about at the start of this conversation.

Tommy gathers himself, defining the strengths of their relationship. As they hold hands, he reminds her that "we know each other. We can talk. We're the same."

The end of the season emphasizes Tommy's heartbreak and confusion, but also the love they still have for each other and how they still know each other.

When he returns to Grace, she asks, "What exactly can I say?...if I tell you who I really am?" Will it matter and change anything?

Tommy replies, "I think I know who you are" highlighting his uncertainty. He finally knows her true identity and motives for being there, but he still also knows the true her since she shot the IRA man (both in revenge for her father and fear of Tommy dying the same way in my opinion).

Grace reiterates that idea. She argues that they know and love the true versions of themselves and the rest is "circumstance" and "just uniform."

And Tommy does seem to accept that. When she tells him, "I love you," he believes it despite the betrayal and lies. He tells her, "away it goes," but doesn't argue that it wasn't real in the first place.

With that belief in their love, we still see how Tommy holds onto the fantasy of their future, even if it is one that he no longer sees as feasible, at least in the near future.

Where before, he assured Grace that he'd begin shutting down some of the illegal businesses, with the mess of Kimber and Campbell and the loss of Danny, that becomes a "someday." The hope is still there that "someday I will throw this gun in the canal," and with it the implication that they can have the life and marriage he dreams of.

He reassures her multiple times that he does love her even if they can't be together now. He says that "we can say" they love each other as much as they want "but there is still no chance."

In his closing letter, he confesses that he never "loved" an enemy before her and that the idea of going to New York to be with her is "interesting" and appealing. In his heartbreak, he reverts to putting business first. In telling her no, he cites "responsibilities" as the reason he must stay.

But even in telling her no, the hope of someday is still there. He tells her he used to flip a coin to help him make decisions, and "perhaps that is what I will do again." The decision he just made is one that can easily change "within three days, " as the love they have for each other is real.

He ends the letter reassuring her that he does believe that she loves him as "Polly is never wrong about matters of the heart," and with that, he offers her "all my love."

Thus, the desire to marry Grace is not dead or forgotten, and season 2 will show us that time, in fact, does heal these wounds that leave him uncertain and unable to commit right now.

#peaky blinders #tommy x grace #tommy shelby #grace burgess #grace shelby

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slytherwrites · 11 months

Note

Hello, I hope I am not disturbing you. Your writings are great. If you are getting requests, can you write for yandere husband Pollux Black, Crygnus Black, Orion Black, Alphard Black, Severus Snape, Gellert Grindelwald, Aberfort Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore? Please

You're not bothering me at all! I love requests! Here are your husbands lol

Characters: Pollux Black, Cygnus Black, Orion Black, Alphard Black, Severus Snape, Gellert Grindelwald, Aberforth Dumbledore, and Albus Dumbledore

TWs: Yandere Content, implications of forced sex, implications of forced pregnancy

Pollux Black

There was no denying it. Pollux was drunk out of his mind.

He'd always carried himself with guilt. A twin who's brother died in the womb. The firstborn son of his father, thus complicit in whatever he wanted, in order to keep his place in the family. He was man who's back was so spineless that it should've curled in on himself already. A disappointment, not proving himself better than Arcturus and not securing the switch in power between his branch of the family and Arcturus'.

But he was you husband, and you had to stick by his side.

"Baby," He crooned in you ear, "You know I love you. You know your the only one for me."

"I am aware."

"Oh, darling I need you, there's no one else for me." He continues, "Love is just what keeps me going. And love is just you in that dress."

"Is that some song?"

"Loving you is just what I do best..."

You take the cup from his hand and slip him out of his formal robes. The reception is over. Cassiopeia got out of this family and is married to someone who loves her. You wish you could say the same.

"It's how I feel, darling." Pollux continues, "I can't stand to see people around you."

"I'm all yours, Pollux." You tell him, "I'm all yours."

"When are you going to act like it then." He whines as more layers get removed between the two of you. You've holed up in the main manor, in one of the side rooms. Pollux is too drunk to apparate or use the floo network. And nobody in the Black Family would dare be seen riding the Knight Bus.

"I do act like it." You tell yourself, "I'm yours, Pollux."

"You don't say I love you. You recoil from my touch. You refuse to call me anything other than my first name." Pollux's tone gets serious, "You don't act like you love me."

"I love you." You tell him.

He grabs your shoulders and throws you onto the bed with him, "Then start acting like it."

"Pollux—" You tried to put some distance between the two of you, "Pollux, wait."

"No." His tone was much more sober, even if he was still slurring his words, "No. You are mine. Quit acting like you're not."

"Please—" You start but he interrupts you, "No! No. You are my wife. You shall act like it."

"I do!" You try to get back onto your feet, "I do!"

"I am your husband and you are my wife." He says, "We shall be one. We shall grow ourselves—our family."

What he means dawns on you and you know that this was always a part of your marriage contract, but you believed that by the time it happened, you'd be in love with him.

You tried and your tried but the light are off and the curtain is closing. This performance is over and act two's about to begin. This time, with a proper pureblood family from the two of you.

Cygnus Black

Cygnus was raised as a righteous man. He has a duty to the family—to live long and prosper. And he wanted to do that with you. Second-born son of the second-born line, he wasn't close to leading the family, even in his wildest dreams.

But he could lead his own family. And he wanted to create that family and that legacy with you and you alone.

"Spin." Your dress robes shimmered with the brightness of the stars themselves, the glimmer bouncing off of them in the waves of your turns, shining as bright as you do.

You don't say anything to him as he takes in your figure. You need to be perfect for him. It is your wedding day, after all.

"Muggles wait to see what they're partner is wearing until they are right in front of them." Cygnus notes, "What fools they are."

"How do you know what muggles do at weddings?" You try to laugh, tease him so that this moment isn't as daunting for you.

"Because I do." Cygnus growls, "Don't question your husband."

"You're not my husband yet." You laugh weakly for your own sake. Cygnus has always been quick to anger, quick to contempt. Hopefully you're quicker—especially than he is at action.

"Look at me." He grabs your arm and squeezes until all of the blood rushes from the hold, "You do not question me. I am your husband. It would behoove you to learn that quickly."

"Alright." You rub your wrist, comforting yourself, "I understand."

"I'll train you up. Don't worry." He says, "You'll learn before our children are born. You'll be an optimal parent. You'll be the perfect spouse. I'll make sure of it."

Somehow, you silently note, that you know that you'll never be as perfect as he needs, no matter how much he teaches and you endure.

Orion Black

Orion Black looked at you with a gaze so sharp it could pierce your body and soul. His straight black hair was combed neatly. His eyes were concrete grey and he kept his face just with the hints of what his beard could be if he didn't shave it regularly. His suit was crisp and clean and his shoes shined like motor oil.

He was well dressed and angry at something. And he was looking at you to fix it.

You took the initiative, silently accio-ing a bottle and a glass, pouring him a drink and then handing it to him. "Rough day?"

He takes the glass you offer, "News you won't like."

"What is it?" You ask, "I can handle it."

"I know, darling. You're so strong for me." Orion takes a sip of the drink and bridges the gap between the two of you, taking your hands into his, "They know the gender of Druella's baby."

The realization dawns on you, "Another girl."

"Yes," He offers you a sympathetic smile, "You've always been bright."

"I don't think coming to that conclusion took much brain power."

"I talked with my grandfather. He's expecting us to pick up the slack."

"Have the heir." You fill in.

Orion nods.

"No." You put your foot down, "That was the deal. I was to stay with you, play the perfect Black Family Wife and I would remain financed, protected, and untouched."

"That was if Cygnus was able to have a male heir." Orion says, "Do you think that I want to go back on that arrangement?"

"Then don't!"

"And have Bellatrix be the next Head of the Black Family?" Orion asks, "I'm already set up to be heir. It was always expected of me."

"It's not going to be expected of me."

"Yes it was." Orion's grip tightens, "We are already wed. You are mine. You cannot leave. Now you can do this the easy way, or I'll imperio you."

"You wouldn't."

He looks you in the eye and reaches for his wand. He doesn't say the words outright, but you made a deal with the devil so he wouldn't hurt you further. And maybe you will have to slide back on that deal a bit. But if you didn't, he'd take it painfully. And he would feel as if he could take more and more out of you.

You can keep some semblance of control this way. And what's one kid in the grand scheme of things?

Alphard Black

Alphard Black loved you to the moon and back. He was Hephaestus and you were Aphrodite, but like the mythical husband and wife, you were not loyal.

No, you'd found your Ares.

A muggleborn, in fact. Some man in the French Ministry of Magic who's been in Britain working on a project. Alphard didn't care who he was or what he done, except for when it was with you.

He used muggle means of subduing him. He's always been fascinated in the magicless. After all, he took you as his wife, even after his family threatened him.

It took all of his convincing to prove that you'd be a good partner, despite being a squib. You can still produce magical children after all. And he's not of the main line anyways.

But you had to go and fuck it up, didn't you?

He has your man tied up in a chair in the parlor, stripped of his wand and his clothing. He was still out cold and you came running when your darling husband told you oh, so sweetly that he had a surprise for you.

He stands over and behind your passed out lover. He's able to see your face when you notice what's gone on. And he can see the horror on your face as you see his manic smile.

"Alphie... what did you do?" You take a step closer, kneeling in front of your lover, "Alphie! What are you doing!"

"Don't Alphie me, sweetheart." He replies, "I saved you from a horrid life in the muggle world and this is how you repay me? By fucking some muggleborn swine!"

"Alphie, it's not what you think..."

"No, baby, it is what I think." He says, "I've been working and you've had a bit too much free time. So you took a man who would give you that attention. I'm sorry, darling. But I'll give you the attention you deserve."

"Alphie, please!" You try to reason with him, but he grabs a knife, "You can't do this!"

"Oh but I can. Knife to the head, incendio for the corpse, and aguamenti to put out the flames. It's simple, really."

You try to run to your lover, standing with him so that if Alphard was to light him ablaze, he'd have to do so to you as well. But Alphard casts a spell you don't recognize and you fall to the floor as you loose consiousness.

You come too as the fire dies down. Your lover no more than ashes. Alphard has himself pressed against your back, arms around your waist. He's singing the song at your wedding and it dawns on you:

You can never escape. You will never escape. The world that you admired so much and was desperate to be a part of you had a chokehold on you so strong that you were unable to leave it, even if you wanted to.

Severus Snape

You were in this marriage for your own personal protection.

The Snape name wasn't known as a Wizarding name just yet, but Severus was a halfblood. He could trace his lineage.

You could not, on account of being a muggleborn.

Honestly, with how Severus acted, you'd wished a death eater would take you out already. It wasn't nearly as torturous as being the wife to such an insufferable man.

"Darling," His slow manner of speaking irritated you, as if you couldn't handle him speaking any faster than this, "You mustn't linger about like that. You seem unhappy."

"And what if I am unhappy?"

"With the favor I have provided you?" He asks, "It would be foolish of you."

"Then call me a fool."

In all honesty, he was right. Staring out the window in the muggle home the two of you shared wasn't healthy for you. It only served to remind you of the home and happiness that you have since lost.

You change the subject, "How is your lord faring?"

"Better, now that he's decided on whomst his biggest threat is."

"Not Albus Dumbledore?"

"No, not Albus Dumbledore." Severus won't tell you more than that and you do not push the matter.

"Anything interesting in the potions you've been making?"

"No." He replies, "It is all the basics for getting a potions mastery. I will have to show it to the Potions Mastery Committee, down at the Ministry."

"You're heading into London?"

"I was planning on flooing, actually."

"Pick me up a new book." You turn to look at him, seeing him flip through the pages of his own book, "I've finished the last in that series and I want something of a similar author."

"Alright." He replies, not looking up at you. You look at his face, still ever-present in his book.

You suppose that he could be worse. He could be active in this situation, not just complacent in your slow torment under this roof. He could lay an unjust hand on you. He could treat you like the other wives of Death Eaters.

There is a mercy in how he acts. There is love in his distance.

You could reciprocate it, you could let it grow and blossom. But for now, you let the waves splash softly against the sand that is the foundation of your relationship with the man.

Gellert Grindelwald

Gellert Grindelwald doesn't love you.

The truth of the matter is that he's never loved anyone, only having obsessions. And, for all of his life, he's only been obsessed with two individuals: Albus Dumbledore—and you.

The fact that you have something in common with Albus Dumbledore makes you laugh. Him, one of the greatest wizards of all time, and you, a witch with so much self-loathing you almost formed an obscurus.

Almost, being the key word. For Gellert Grindelwald made it certain that you would not succumb to this deadly affliction, that you would find love within yourself and the world and its magic, so that you would keep on living.

And, it was all so he can keep you funneled away, hidden from the rest of the world in a small flat near Godric's Hollow.

It's embarrassing really, how quickly you fell for him. And yet, he does not love you, even after all that he did to make you love him.

You just stare off into the fireplace, awaiting his arrival. Because he's the only thing that keeps you from slipping into that state again. He's the only thing that brings you joy.

Aberforth Dumbledore

Aberforth wasn't the gloriest of husbands you could of had.

In all honesty, you befriended him to get closer to Albus. That was the real catch, your mother told you. Handsome, intelligent, hardworking—the world was falling at his feet and you could've been the woman smiling by his side, perfectly cared for and content while he tool the Wizarding World by storm.

But Aberforth had to actually take a liking to you, one he took violently, one that tarnished your reputation afterwards.

One thing lead to another and there was a child between the two of you. Aberforth made you an honest woman and you got yourself stuck with a child you didn't want, a job you hated, and a husband you hated even more.

At least nobody cares about what you did, out of wedlock. It's been decades now. You and Aberforth are over a century old. So is Albus.

And even if you can't call Albus Dumbledore yours, you still get to be near him and bask in his intellect. You two are friends, even if you always wanted to be something more.

Albus Dumbledore

He was an odd man. Never violent, even if you wished he would be.

He was kind, wise, put love as the forefront of everything, even though you didn't love him.

You didn't even like him. No, you were filled with pure, unadulterated hatred for your husband.

He's a gentle man. Smart, intelligent, caring. He keeps to himself on most occasions and lets you roam the walls of Hogwarts freely, just like you did, when the two of you were students.

You remember him well, you suppose. Back then, he wasn't like this. Back then, he was easier to endure. Back then, your dislike of him was validated.

Now, he's the war hero and headmaster of the greatest wizarding school in the world. He's saved countless of lives and mentored everyone who's walked through the walls of Hogwarts for the past century or so.

And it's exhausting, staying by his side. You're expected to be a proud person, prideful in your husband's work and all he has done, joyful in how the Dumbledore name has flourished and grateful for the man you've married.

But you are not here willingly. You would not have joined his side by choice.

You honestly hope Minister Fudge finds a way to oust him. Maybe his crimes in the wars will be released. Maybe he'll keel over and die already.

Because being the partner to such a perfect man is exhausting. Especially when you're the only one who sees all of his flaws.

#yandere hp #yandere alphard black #yandere pollux black #yandere cygnus black #yandere orion black #yandere severus snape #yandere gellert grindlewald #yandere aberforth dumbedore #yandere albus dumbledore #i'm not too familiar with fanon interpretations of these characters so if something seems off that's why #some of these are more fem aligned than others that's just how the cookie crumbles i guess #vaguely fantastic beasts canon with this because ive only seen the first one and seen discussions of the latter two

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sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

Text

📖Alpha, Beta (& Omega)

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2928

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, anal sex, oral sex, hurt/comfort, first time, age gap (18/29), domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

To read previous parts of this series first, got to the story's masterlist

9. A Consummation, cont'd

This Chapter: He wants to feel Steve pressing down on him again, touching, and rubbing; wants to feel his hot mouth against his skin, his big hands running all over his body. He wants to feel desired, and Steve's the only one who's made him feel that way in years.

"Might have to check to make sure that fever’s really gone.”

"Yeah. Yeah maybe you should."

Steve straightens, his eyes going heavy-lidded with interest. “How much better are you feeling?”

"A lot better."

His eyebrows rise. "A lot?"

"Yeah, a lot." Bucky swallows thickly, works up the nerve to rasp, “C'mere. You want to feel my forehead?”

Steve walks closer to the bed. He gets one knee up on the mattress and Bucky watches how the muscles in his thigh move, how his cock hangs heavy between his legs, just starting to thicken in interest. Fuck. Steve’s got the most gorgeous cock Bucky could imagine.

“What do you want to do?”

His gaze jerks up from Steve’s cock, to where the alpha's eyes are shining in eager, heated amusement, and it makes his belly flip.

Steve tilts his head playfully. “You've been ill, so ... I wouldn't feel right about it if you didn't tell me what you want.”

“I, I don’t know. I just, um …” His face heats as he falters, sounding like a dolt, a virgin; all the things he doesn't want to sound like. He licks his lips, wondering if maybe he does still have that fever. "Um ..."

“It's okay,” Steve encourages, climbing over on the bed. “Don’t have be shy, Honey. Tell me what you want.”

God, but it undoes Bucky to hear Steve speak like that—and it's not the first time that he has. Bucky wonders if asking for his explicit consent is something that makes Steve feel better about their hastily arranged marriage, or if it just turns him on to know that Bucky wants him that way.

“Touch me?” he asks, because he does want him that way.

He wants to feel Steve pressing down on him again, touching, and rubbing; wants to feel his hot mouth against his skin, his big hands running all over his body. He wants to feel desired, and Steve's the only one who's made him feel that way in years.

Bucky squirms in place, self-conscious and impatient. “Please?”

Steve climbs over him, gently spreading Bucky’s legs with his knee and settling there. “Of course, Buck, ‘course I will.” He kisses him softly, slotting their mouths together and slipping in with his tongue only when the moment’s right.

In Bucky’s limited experience, people tend to fumble through kissing in one of two ways: it's either brief and chaste, or rough and tactless. Bucky's parents have always seemed the former, the boys and girls his age, the latter. But Steve kisses like he was born knowing how to do it in a third way. A better way.

The careful way that he invades Bucky’s mouth, coaxing and slow, makes the arousal thrum hotter beneath his skin. It’s erotic, getting to open up to another person like this—especially one who looks like Steve. Bucky moans softly, hands sliding up Steve’s back and curling over his shoulders.

“That’s it,” Steve whispers against his lips. “Just let me make you feel good, okay?” He draws away and looks down at him. “Tell me I can.”

Bucky exhales shakily and nods. “Yes.”

Steve smiles and sits back on his knees. His hands slide up Bucky’s legs, drawing his nightshirt up his thighs, and then higher. Bucky’s breathing picks up as he’s slowly exposed. “Steve …” he whispers, embarrassed that this is still so new to him. He shouldn’t feel so nervous at being naked in front of his husband. They’ve already done this, already been here, and yet Bucky’s trembling as Steve bares him. “S-steve …”

“Shh. It’s okay. I love seeing you. You’re beautiful, Bucky.” He presses a kiss to his belly, hands rucking the night shirt up past his waist. “Take this off,” he murmurs, continuing his path downwards.

Bucky pulls the nightshirt off and tosses it aside, looking back down at Steve’s hands on his hips and his face so close. “Fuck,” he whispers.

“Mmhm.” Steve angles his cock upwards, thumb dragging up the underside and trapping it against his belly. He rubs the sensitive skin just under the head in slow circles, and Bucky moans. Steve’s eyes flick up, dark and heated, and Bucky's cock throbs at how turned on the alpha looks, just from doing this to him. “That feel good?” he asks.

Bucky nods. “Y-yeah.”

“Good.” He wraps his hand around him and strokes, easing his foreskin down and revealing the weeping pink head. “Look at that,” he murmurs, his face so close to Bucky’s cock that Bucky can feel the warmth of his breath.

“Fuck,” he whispers, turned on beyond reason at the sight of Steve’s gorgeous face so near to his erection. “S-steve, oh, please. Will you?”

Steve hums in approval and takes his cock into his mouth. Bucky grunts and grits his teeth, a stifled shout lodging in his throat and coming out as a whine instead. Steve hums again and smooths his hand up Bucky’s hip to settle him. He pulls off and looks up. “Still okay?”

“Nngh, yes. Feels so good.”

His mouth ticks in a knowing smile and he strokes him loosely a few times. “Have you ever had this done to you before?”

Bucky shakes his head, blushing. “No. I didn’t think—” he cuts himself off, but Steve is waiting for him to finish the sentence, so he hesitantly admits, “I didn’t think that Alphas … did that.”

Not that he thinks they can’t do it, just that they don’t. Sex and pleasure revolve around alphas, or at least it’s always seemed so, with the way people talk—and don’t talk—about it. Alphas are the aggressors, the takers; they fuck their partners, they don’t sink down between their legs to service them all night. Bucky gets the feeling that Steve has never held to these standards, though, because his features instantly screw up in disdain.

“Ridiculous,” he huffs, saying nothing more before taking Bucky back in his mouth.

Bucky’s breath punches out of him as Steve sinks almost all the way down his cock, lips tightening for the slow, hot drag back up. "Oh." He grabs impulsively at Steve’s hair. “Oh, god.” It feels so good, holy shit.

The hot, wet capture of Steve’s mouth has to be the best thing he's ever felt, making his cock twitch and throb, pleasure coiling tightly in his belly, his balls. Bucky doesn't know how he won't finish in two seconds like this. “Steve,” he gasps, trying hard not to thrust up into his mouth or pull on his hair too hard. “Fuck, wait, oh, oh I can't. I'm gonna ...”

Steve gentles his technique after that, letting up to stroke him slowly while he sucks at the tip and tongues that sensitive spot underneath. It makes Bucky’s toes curl, how perfectly gentle it is. "That better?" Steve teases, pressing his thumb against the slit.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers, craving more. His balls are throbbing—aching, and tight—and he reaches down to cup them.

Steve grunts and knocks his hand away, palming them in his own hand instead. Bucky exhales harshly and releases his grip on Steve’s hair, his head dropping back down to the pillow and his eyes slipping shut as he surrenders to what Steve is giving him.

It’s so much. Steve’s suckling on the head and jerking him off and rolling his balls with all the dedication of a longtime lover. One of his knuckles slips back and rocks against his perineum, and Bucky grunts and tenses. “Ssteve,” he slurs, “Steve, oh, oh. M’gonna cum if you keep doing that.”

Steve pulls off, and Bucky’s left panting and trying to calm down. “Look at me, Sweetheart,” Steve says. Bucky opens his eyes and looks down, belly swirling hard at the sight of Steve between his legs: flushed, messy hair, lips swollen and wet. He stares dazedly down at him and Steve smiles. He holds Bucky's cock and rubs it against his lips, back and forth, wet. “You want me to make you cum like this?” he asks. “Or do you want me inside you?”

Bucky’s eyes widen and his cock jerks in Steve’s hand. “Inside me,” he says, remembering how it’d been that first night on the ship, how Steve had opened him up so carefully and fucked him so gently, how good it had felt to be taken like that.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, moving up his body to lie over him again. He kisses and nuzzles up under his jaw. “You feel up to it?”

If Bucky wasn’t sure before, he certainly is now. Steve’s body pressing down on him feels too good to lose. He wants more of it. “Yes,” he breathes, canting his hips up to grind his erection against Steve’s stomach. He can feel the answering hardness of Steve’s cock against his belly, and it urges him on, knowing that Steve is aroused by what they’re doing, that he wants Bucky, too.

There's no doubt he does. Steve’s scent gets stronger. He kisses sweet and slow, like he’s thanking Bucky for saying yes. “Okay,” he whispers, kissing right over Bucky's glands. “Okay. Just a minute.”

At first Bucky doesn’t understand why he’s moving away, but then he sees the slick that Steve’s reaching for, returning with it and sitting back on his heels, undoing the lid ... dipping his fingers in. Bucky bites his lip as he watches Steve slicking his fingers. It’s so intimate, making him flush with embarrassment even as his cock jerks at the sight.

Steve will be gentle, he reminds himself. He’ll make it good like he did before. Bucky nods to show that he’s ready and draws his knees up, pulling Steve down over him with a hand on the back of his neck. He wants him close while he does this. “Touch me,” he says breathily. “Make me ready.”

Steve’s slicked fingers find his hole and gently trace over it, making Bucky’s breath hitch in a quiet, “oh.” He swallows, eyes slipping shut at the still-new feeling. But Steve is careful with him just like he was before, and he takes his time, circling and rubbing gently before finally pressing that first fingertip in. Bucky’s body gives to the pressure, and he moans quietly and grasps at Steve’s shoulders. “Oh.”

“Good,” Steve rumbles, clearly affected by what he’s doing. He buries his face in Bucky’s neck and scents him. “That’s good, Bucky. Just relax.”

Bucky shudders and arches his neck to give Steve more room, pushing down on the finger to draw it in. He gasps when it glances against that spot inside. “Oh! S-steve …”

“Mmhm.” Steve’s lips drag up his neck. “I know, Honey. I know.” He licks the shell of his ear and bites at it, making Bucky shiver in his arms.

“Ohn.”

“Shh, s’gonna feel good,” he promises, softly thrusting his finger to get Bucky used to it. “You want to try another?” he whispers.

Bucky whines, nervous but eager. “Yes,” he says, then exhales shakily as he feels Steve work second finger in alongside the first. It’s a stretch, and Bucky whimpers at the slight burn of it. “Oh,” he sighs. “It’s ...” It hurts—only a little, but he doesn’t want to say so because he doesn’t want Steve to stop. “S’big,” he whines instead, grateful when Steve hums in understanding and goes slow for him. He kisses Bucky again, licking into his mouth and distracting him with a filthy swipe of tongue as his body adjusts.

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “Just gotta loosen up for it.”

Bucky nods tightly and focuses on accepting it, trying to relax as Steve pulses his fingers in tiny motions. “Curl ‘em,” he begs, wanting to feel that spark of pleasure deep inside that Steve had elicited their first time together. “That spot, please. Make me feel it.” Steve hums and changes the angle of his hand, slowly dragging down against his walls. Bucky cries out softly when Steve's fingers glance over it and the pleasure suddenly flares white hot. “Ohn."

Steve kisses him deeper, setting in to fucking him with his fingers and swiping over his prostate with each pass. He keeps doing it until Bucky’s hole starts to loosen up, the muscle softening to his touch. “There you go,” he praises, easing a third finger in with the others.

Bucky groans and digs his head back into the pillow, panting open mouthed and staring blearily at the bed's canopy as Steve works his body open. It’s overwhelming how intense it is, how close he feels to Steve when the alpha does this to him. There’s an ache to it, but Steve takes his time, and his fingers settle right over Bucky's prostate and rub with purpose, making his cock leak and pleasure bloom deep in his gut, overtaking the ache. “Oh, oh,” he breathes, chasing Steve’s hand with every thrust, seeking out more. “Oh god.”

“Good?”

He nods with his eyes clamped shut, focusing on the feeling. He draws his knees up high and wraps his legs around Steve, wanting to feel all of him. He tilts his hips to rub their cocks together between their bellies, and Steve groans deeply against his mouth.

Bucky opens his eyes to see Steve’s face pinched and his mouth gone slack in pleasure. He looks down between their bodies and feels his guts lurch and his balls throb at the sight of their cocks sliding messily together. Steve is so big, so dark and thick and leaking, his knot reddened and the fat head of him blurting out precum against their skin. Bucky's smaller cock looks almost delicate next to it. He whines and tears his gaze away, panting shakily. “Steve,” he moans.

“Uh huh.”

“Feels s’good.”

“I know Baby, I know. Fuck, you’re so pretty. So good. Just let me know. Let me know when you’re ready.” His face is so full of desire, and his voice is so tight with restraint. He’s so powerful, so beautiful, Bucky wants him inside his body.

“I am,” he pants. “I’m ready, I’m ready, please.”

Steve uses the lubricant again, wetting himself up with it and Bucky too, pressing more in with his fingers and making Bucky whine needily. “Breathe out,” he tells him, lining up and waiting for Bucky’s obedient exhale. That’s when he pushes in.

Bucky’s breath catches in his throat, shocked at how full and big it is. “S-steve,” he gasps, hands flying up to grab at his shoulders. “Oh. Oh, ohh …”

“Okay?” Steve asks, and he’s still pushing, still sinking in, forcing Bucky’s body open around his cock.

“Yeah,” Bucky pants, unable to say anything else. It’s so much. “S’big,” he whispers, clutching onto Steve like he’s the last rock in a violent sea. “Oh, fuck, Steve.”

“I know, Buck. You’re doing so good, takin’ me so perfect.” Steve slides a hand into his hair and kisses him, tongue delving eagerly into his mouth. When he pulls back from the kiss he also pulls his hips back and starts to rock. Bucky cries out and Steve nods, groaning. “Oh, so good for me, Beta.”

Bucky whines and mewls at the title, eyes squeezing shut at how good it feels. He buries his face in Steve’s neck and clings to him, feet hooked over the backs of his thighs and hips rutting up against his stomach, trying to get closer, to get more. He moves in time with Steve’s thrusts, rocking, taking him deep, and it gets easier after the first few minutes. Steve’s cock works him open, making his body soften and accept it, until Bucky’s gasping with every thrust, a steady stream of “Oh, oh, oh’s” leaving him. He searches Steve’s mouth out with his, kissing him and pleading for him not to stop, for more. “Yes, yes, oh god jus’ like that, Steve …”

“Shit,” Steve grits out, hips working harder, grinding in deep as he feels Bucky fluttering around him. “You feel so good, Buck, so—nngh—so damn good, Baby …”

“D-don’t stop!” Bucky gasps, as the pleasure grows sharp and sudden in his gut, in the base of his spine and his tightly-drawn balls. They’re heavy and throbbing, bringing everything into focus with each roll of Steve’s hips and glance of his cock against that spot inside. He keens and shoves one hand down between their bodies, suddenly desperate as his orgasm comes into sight. He sobs and jerks as his fingers wrap around his length. “Shit.”

Steve moans, hips shoving harder, kissing at the corner of his mouth. “You close, Honey?”

“Nnh!” Bucky nods and begs, “Don’t stop, oh please don’t stop. Just like that, just like that.”

Steve growls eagerly at his frantic movements. “Yeah, that’s it. Come on, Honey, come on.”

Bucky groans and squeezes his eyes shut at Steve’s rough encouragement, at the way he fucks him so good and calls him sweet names. He loves it, gets higher from it, feels everything coalescing just so in his gut. “Oh Steve, so close. Gonna cum, gonna …”

“Do it,” he grunts, fucking him even harder; firm, deep thrusts that make his balls slap against Bucky’s ass. “Get it, Baby, go on. Right on my cock, lemme feel it.”

Bucky gets right there, stops fisting his cock and jerks right underneath the head, tight little pulses that push him over the edge and make him cry out as everything unfurls and he finds his release. “Oh, fuck,” he sobs, the pressure unspooling rapidly as his cock shoots onto his belly. His whole body seizes with it, a rush of agonizing relief so great that it makes his eyes water. “Oh, Steve,” he cries. “Alpha, oh, thank you, thank you…”

“Fuck.” Steve’s hips snap harder, faster, his knot swelling and bumping against Bucky’s rim. One of his hands shoots down and squeezes it as he starts to come. He groans, deeply and helplessly as it hits him, and it’s the most erotic sound Bucky’s ever heard. His thrusts slow as he whimpers and grinds his release into Bucky’s body. “Nnn, ffuck ...”

Bucky tucks his face into Steve’s sweaty neck, sighing at the filthy-wet feel of it leaking out and getting fucked back in. Steve keeps coming for long minutes, panting and humping throughout. Towards the end, Bucky gets sensitive and whines a little at the overstimulation, but he doesn’t push Steve away, just lets him rut into his body as he finds completion.

When he finally stills, Bucky pulls his face out of his neck and in for a kiss, needing to show him how much he liked it, how good Steve just made him feel. Steve grunts and starts kissing back, taking gentle control of the kiss after a moment and holding Bucky’s jaw. When they part, he pulls out, hushing Bucky’s whine of displeasure at the sudden emptiness. “Shh, I know. It’s okay.”

Bucky squirms and whimpers. He can feel his hole clenching and Steve’s cum leaking out of him. There’s so much of it. “I’m wet,” he says, voice shivery and quiet. “I need—”

“A bath,” Steve agrees, kissing him with a sated sigh. “Come on, we'll take one together.” He takes Bucky’s hand in his and eases him out of the bed, chuckling at his grumbling when the cum starts running down his thighs. “I’ll wash you,” he promises. “Now come on, let’s see if this tiny tub can fit the both of us.”

It doesn’t, but they make it work.

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meetmyothersouls · 1 year

Text

It's Not You, It's Me

Part 12

Warnings: recovering from an accident, bruising, wedding, braxton hicks/contractions, violence/violent situations, a single gun (not used), feelings of dread and sadness, this is quite long so, please bare with me. Not proof read

What should have been a weeklong hospital stay, turned into two, then three, then before you knew it, Timothee had been in the hospital for a month. During yours and Timothee's stay, there was an interesting new development in your pregnancy: Braxon Hicks contractions. The first time you had one you thought for sure you were going into labor, luckily the hospital Timothee was staying at was the same hospital your OBGYN was at and the same hospital you were delivering in. So, your doctor saw you every time you had one, "just to make sure," you told them. By the time, Timothee was released, and a quick wedding ceremony was in order, you were eight months and a week pregnant, feeling like you were about to burst at the seams.

The week that Timothee was released from the hospital was exponentially busy, filled with dress fittings (your least favorite part considering), physical therapy for Timothee, somehow getting a church on board for a last-minute wedding, finding an ordained minister (which ultimately did not work out. Luckily, Timothee's best friend Stephane went the extra mile and spent the week getting ordained) and finally (and almost forgotten) obtaining a marriage license. Nicole took the matter of guest list, invitations, decorations and food into her own hands.

The night before the wedding, Timothee seemed distracted. He paced the floor of your shared apartment, biting his fingernails. He hissed in pain as he bit one down too far, drawing blood. The sight brought on one of the fake contractions. You winced a little as you got up, walking them off seemed to help.

"What's goin' on, Tim?" You asked, walking over to him. "Not getting cold feet, are you?" You asked, mostly joking.

Timothee quickly turned his neck to look at you, wincing in pain from the movement. A lot was still difficult for him, and it worried you to no end. "Of course not!" Timothee smiled, the bruising around his eyes and faded into a nasty yellow color, but somehow, he still managed to look insanely attractive. "I should be asking you that, you know? The one who always runs off." Immediately your faced dropped and Timothee quickly added, "I'm kidding. I'm kidding! No, really, everything's great, y/n. We're getting married tomorrow, our daughter's gonna be here any day now. What more could I want?"

You winced again at a second false alarm contraction and Timothee put a hand on your belly and ran the other through his hair. It was something he did when he was nervous. Then, his index finger went back into his mouth as he chomped on the already torn fingernail. You chalked it up to last minute jitters as you closed your eyes.

"We don't have to do this, you know?" He said quietly.

Your eyes popped open and you pulled his other hand into yours, hoping to minimize the torture he was putting his fingers through.

"I know, but a ceremony is important and I think your mom would flip if we didn't have one."

"I know, but-" Timothee slid his hands out of yours and went back to pacing the floor. He'd mellowed out a lot since the beginning of all this. And the accident left him a little fragile. Secretly, you hoped he'd get back to his normal devious self. Maybe after the wedding and after the baby was born, he'd settle back down.

"But....?"

"But," Timothee sighed, launching back into a pace. "I'm just freaking out. And probably over nothing. It's stupid. Forget it."

You rolled your eyes. "No. Fuck that. You can't just say that and then tell me to forget about it. What's going on, Timmy? Tell me."

You waddled over to him, hoping it looked like anything other than a waddle. You stopped him mid pace, pulling his hand from his mouth and took it in yours. His other hand went to your cheek as he brushed strand of hair behind your ear. He sighed again.

"Just tell me, baby," you urged him gently.

"I'm just waiting for something to happen. Something to go wrong."

His anxiety was talking again, and you were getting better and better and calming his rising panic. You'd been talking him off the ledge a lot lately. Sometimes were easier than others. You weren't sure how this one was going to go.

"Nothing's going to happen, Timothee. We're going to get married and then hopefully have this baby, like, two seconds after," you laughed. It was getting hard to breathe with how the baby was positioned.

He nodded, smiling as he took your face in his hands and kissed your lips tenderly before building up to a deeper, more passionate kiss.

"Let's go to bed," he said against your mouth. "Tonight's the last night I get to have sex with you as y/f/n y/l/n."

The next morning came early. Timothee had physical therapy that morning, so Nicole picked you up to begin getting you ready for your wedding. You couldn't believe it was happening. Your wedding. You were marrying Timothee Chalamet.

Nicole stood behind you as she zipped your dress up. Your hair was done, your make up was perfect and the dress, though heavily modified due to your pregnant belly, fit you like a glove and was somehow not the least bit uncomfortable. You looked beautiful and that was something you never considered yourself. Your eyes glistened a little as tears built up.

"Oh, honey," Nicole said, leading over to grab a few tissues. She handed them to you over your shoulder and you patted your eyes, careful to not smudge your perfect eyeliner.

"I'm sorry your parents couldn't make it here, sweety, but I just want you to know that long before today, I already considered you a daughter."

"Make that both of us" Timothee's dad, Marc, said from behind you. He must've snuck in without you noticing, which wouldn't be hard to do considering how much was on your mind. He looked quite handsome in his tuxedo with light blue accents. "Y/n, I'm not sure if you've given it any thought...and there's no pressure at all of course, but...if you want, I'd love to be the one to walk you down the aisle today."

Tears immediately welled up in your eyes, which prompted Nicole to grab more tissues. This time, she dabbed your eyes for you.

"I'd love that thank you, Mr. Chalamet. Or...should I call you Dad now?" You chuckled but cringed at your awakardness.

But marc offered you a genuine smile and his arm and said, "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

Timothee's POV

I stood at the altar, my hands a sweaty mess. Normally, Y/n wouldn't want a big ceremony, and I knew she was doing it for everyone but her. That's one of the reasons I fell in love her. Her selflessness.

I'm lost in thought as the music begins playing and the groomsmen with the bridesmaids began to walk down the aisle and joined me on stage. Part of me, unfortunately, worried about her not showing, but these thoughts are instantly put at ease when the music changed and my dad brought Y/n out, his arm interlocked with hers.

Everything stopped and there was only her. She looked...beautiful. Pregnancy certainly made her glow like an angle sent straight from heaven, just for me. My eyes began to fill with tears and I didn't even try to keep them from falling. I wiped my eyes with one hand, keeping the other one behind my back, shaking like a leaf. Her dress, which she was so worried about made her look even more angelic. The fabric fell off of her shoulders, exposing my favorite spots to kiss, and draped down her arms. Lace covered the plunging neck line, a modification Y/n added to not show so much skin. A satin tie gathered perfectly around her waist, showing off a perfectly round baby bump. Then it hit me. Both of my girls were here on my wedding day.

And then, we locked eyes and she waved at me. Wiggling her delicate little fingers, in my direction. I couldn't help but chuckle. My dad helped her up the three steps. Words were spoken, but I didn't hear a damn on of them. Y/n hugged my dad before he joined my mother in the front row.

Stephane greeted the guests, speaking eloquently I'm sure, but all I could see, all I could hear, all I could think of was her. The day I'd waited for, since I saw her in that coffee shop so long ago, was here.

It must've been time for vows, because Y/n cleared her throat and said my name. Her eyes were glossy as she spoke.

"Timothee, my love, my world, my everything. We've been through a hell of a lot together, haven't we?" She chuckled and sniffled a little, and I reached out to grab one of her hands, rubbing an encouraging thumb over her fingers. "There have been moments in my life, where I didn't think I had a purpose, a reason. But then you came along, and you gave me two." She placed a hand on her belly, and she gripped mine tighter. "I never thought I'd get married, and I definitely never thought I'd have one these." The guests laughed and so did I. "But I'm so happy, Timothee. I'm so happy that I get to spend forever with the two of you. I love you," she said to me, her voice going a bit higher in pitch as it did when she was about to cry. "And I will never run from that. I promise.

Reader's POV

You breathed a deep sigh of relief as you finished your vows. You decided that you weren't going to write anything down. You were going to speak directly from your heart. You laid it all out for him in a way you hadn't ever before. And Timothee looked at you, happy tears welling up in his still bruised eyes.

Timothee opened his mouth to speak, but smiled instead, as if gathering words to say.

"I'm not as poetic as my beautiful bride here," he started, and you rolled your eyes knowing very well how eloquent he was when he spoke. Still, the small crowd of maybe 100 guests laughed. "So, I had to write mine down." Timothee reached a hand into his pocked, fishing for his vows. He finally pulled out a folded white sheet of paper. It appeared wrinkled and worn, like it was folded and unfolded countless times over numerous days as he worked out his feelings onto paper.

"Y/n," Timothee said, "I-" he cut himself off with a short, shaky breath and a light emotional sob. It was your turn to comfort him, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. He looked up at you and pulled his lips in to form a smile one does to push back a lump forming in their throat. He was trying so hard not to cry.

I love you. You mouthed.

"I love you too," he whispered back. He huffed out a breath and refocused. "I wrote this a week after I met you and-"

Timothee stopped again, cut off by something different this time. He turned his head to someone in the audience, someone that caught his attention. Instantly his face changed. Your smile dropped from your face and your snapped your neck in the direction he was looking in. Your stomach tightened, contracting again at the sight of the man standing in the back of the crowd. He entered quietly, Timothee must have seen him out of his peripheral vision, there was no sound upon his entrance; even the large church doors didn't make a sound. But a man that you knew from long ago stood in the threshold and his presence was just as menacing as you remembered.

"No," you whispered. "No. No. No."

The two of you, seconds ago standing in front of each other, holding hands, exchanging vows, shifted to face the man at the door. His face was twisted in an ominous smirk, making his dark eyes appear evil. His hair, as black as night, was styled as perfectly as it was the day you left him and decided to erase him from your life. But now, here he was and by his looks, he was here to ruin it.

"Y/n," Timothee said, not taking his eyes off of the wedding crasher. "Who is that."

You wish he hadn't have asked that. Because saying his name out loud would acknowledge that fact that somehow, he reentered your life. You spent so long trying to forget him, to repress him from your memory. But of course Timothee would ask. Why wouldn't he? You never spoke about Jacob. Not after what he did.

"His name is Jacob, you said. "And he's my ex-fiancé."

Timothee's grip on your hand tightened to the point of pain and the muscle in his jaw strained as he worked it. "For now," he sighed, as if he knew this would happen. You thought of what he said the night before. I'm just waiting for something to happen. Something to go wrong. And here it was. "We're going to skip over the fact that you've never mentioned this to me and figure out what the fuck is going on."

Jacob looked around the church, an obnoxious fake look of awe plastered to his face. He clapped his hands in mocked amusement and then held them out to both of you as he took slow, but deliberate steps towards the front of the church. "Oh, I hope I'm not too late. Y/n, I missed your invite, but you know I'd find you eventually." Jacob grabbed a wine glass from a woman's hand and downed the entire thing in a single gulp. He looked at Stephane. "Is it too late to object this shit show?"

Stephane stepped forward, an elegant swagger to him even in the most awkward situations. "With all due respect, uhm, sir," he added in disgust, "objections are reserved for legal matters only, emotional reasonings are not valid for objections. So, unless your objection is of legal stature, we won't be stopping the wedding."

Timothee pulled you closer to his body as Jacob pursed his lips in thought. Another fake contraction tightened around your belly, this time building in intensity. This time, a wince was hard to hide. Your hand went to your belly and your breathed out a big puff of air.

"Are you okay," Timothee whispered over his shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah. Braxton Hicks," you reminded him.

"Oh for the love of God, Y/n. Really? Pregnant at your own wedding? I know you're trash but this," he held out his hands as if showing you to a crowd gathered to see a freakshow at a circus. "This is next level!" Jacob laughed in disbelief.

"Hey, man. Get the fuck out. You weren't invited and this is a private event. You've said what you needed to say. And whatever the hell went on between you two is clearly over. She doesn't want you. And no one wants you here right n ow. Leave. That's the last time I'll ask.

Jacob's lips pulled into a sadistic smirk again, and a sinister laugh vibrated in his throat. The guests looked horrified and a few of them already picked up their bags and walked out.

"Jacob, please. You're ruining my wedding day." Just like he ruined your life.

"Your wedding day?" He laughed out loud. "This was supposed to be OUR wedding day, y/n. Remember all the plans we made? All the things we did together, all the memories we made together? ALL THE LOVE WE MADE?!"

"Stop."

"You can't just throw that away."

"Stop it, Jacob."

"But you did. Didn't you? You threw it all away. You threw us away, y/n. Just like you threw me in prison!"

"BECAUSE YOU KILLED MY FAMILY!" You screamed. The remaining guests gasped, and Timothee's head snapped to you. You didn't tell him this. You didn't tell anyone anything. You couldn't. As soon as Jacob went to prison, you entered the witness protection program. You started over. You weren't sure how Jacob found you. How he was out of prison.

The rest of the guests were leaving the church in hoards at your outburst. Stephane still stood behind Timothee. You saw Larry hiding out in the corner. He'd have you if you needed and if god forbid anything happned to-

Jacob pulled his hand he'd been keeping in his pocket, revealing a heavy black handgun. Anyone left in the church aside from Stephane and Larry had fled. And Jacob began walking causally around the pews, waving the gun around as he talked.

"You know, I've had years to think about how this would all go down. Because I knew you'd change your name. I knew you'd move and hide. And lemme tell ya, you were a tricky one to find," he shook the gun at you as talked, "They did good with you."

Jacob pointed the gun in your direction, and instantly Timothee opened his mouth to speak.

"Ah, Ah," Jacob said, moving his aim to Timothee. Timothee made sure you were behind him, assuring that if Jacob pulled the trigger, it'd be him that he shot. Another shooting pain rippled through your abdomen, this time your knees buckled a little and it took everything in you not to fall to them. You gripped the back of Timothee's tux, but he didn't seem to notice. Stephane placed one hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles and the other hand on Timothee's shoulder.

"If you can't tell," Jacob started back up when he was sure Timothee was done interrupting. "I'm calling this wedding off. She's not marrying you." He emphasized the word 'you' with evident disgust.

"We're already married," Timothee blurted out. If there were still guests in the room, you were sure his declaration would have resulted in more gasps. Jacob stopped walking and lowered his gun. Taking his chance, Timothee started up again. "About a month ago, I was in a pretty bad accident. We decided that as soon as I was out we'd get married. But we couldn't wait. We got married in my hospital room and didn't tell anyone. This ceremony was all for show and formalities. Y/n is already my wife."

Jacob took in what Timothee had to say and for a second you were hopeful. Your stomach tightened again, and you couldn't suppress the groan of pain you let out.

"Y/n," Timothee said.

"I'm fine," you assured him, even though you felt like vomitting. You started to wonder if these were real contractions. "I'm fine," you said again, unaware of who you were trying to convince.

You gathered yourself enough to stand up straight, thought the pressure building between your legs was starting to increase and became more obvious than it had in the last few weeks. Your eyes found Jacob again, standing right in front of the stairs leading up to the stage.

"No matter," he shrugged and pointed the gun. That's when you felt it, like a water balloon from inside of you bursting. Fluid rain down your legs and onto the stage. If Timothee saw it, he didn't make it known.

"Tim," you whispered. "Tim my water broke." It came out like a sob.

Timothee gripped your wrist tight, you already felt bruises forming. He didn't say anything, he only stood his ground in front of you, his body as still as any statue. Stephane took his place at his side, increasing your shield from Jacob.

Jacob let out a laugh that echoed and bounced off of the walls of the empty church. "Oh no, you don't understand, you stupid fucks! I don't want her. Why would I kill the one I want? No. I'm coming after you."

"Ahh, fuck!" You screamed as another contraction rippled through your stomach. It was unlike any pain you'd ever felt, like your insides being twisted and ripped out. Your stomach tightened so intensely you couldn't move. The only relief was that it wasn't constant. You prayed they were far apart enough to finish whatever this was.

"If she won't come with me...I'll make her a widow. She's so pathetic, she'll come crawling right back to me. Now, come on," Jacob said, waving the gun towards himself, motioning Timothee to follow, but Timothee stood still, completely unmoving. It wasn't until Jacob was halfway to the door, that he realized Timothee wasn't following. Jacob stompped back over, clearly annoyed, not stopping until he was directly in front of Timothee, his nose practically touching Tim's.

"You better learn how to follow directions, pretty boy."

"Fuck you," Timothee spat.

"You want me to kill you in front of your widow?"

Timothee didn't answer.

Behind him, you screamed as another contraction reared its ugly head.

"Y/n," Timothee said, slowing turning around with up turned palms, assuring Jacob he wasn't going to run off or do anything slick. "Y/n, listen to me."

"No. No. Nononono. No I can't do this. I can't. Do go. Don't go with him. Please. I need you, Timothee."

"I know. I know my love. Listen. Listen to me."

You made yourself look at him, and regretted it instantly. You'd seen Timothee in a thousand different ways, but you'd never seen him as broken as this.

"You get to the hospital. Okay? You have our baby and when she's here, you tell her how much I love her and you make sure you tell her that for me every day until you grow old and gray. Until you don't have the strength to say it anymore. But please. Please know that for every ounce of love I have for her-" his hand went to your belly, and you sobbed loudly. "Is nothing compared to how fiercely I loved you."

Loved.

"No! No I'm not going. I'm not leaving you, you can't make me Timothee, please."

"LET'S GO!" Jacob screamed.

"Just give me a fuckin minute!" Timothee yelled, tears rolling down his face.

"I love you, y/n. Don't you ever fucking forget that."

Timothee grabbed your face tightly in his hands and kissed you. Normally, you'd love a kiss that deep and passionate. It was one of those kisses that Timothee put his entire heart into. His tongue wrapped around yours. His taste in your mouth. His lips skating gracefully around yours, even with how rushed it was. The soft noise he made while he kissed you that he didn't even realize he was doing but he did because his entire soul was in the kiss. But right now, you hated it. You hated it because he was kissing you like it was his last. And for all you knew, it was.

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#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #writing #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #it’s not you it’s me #dark!timothee

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sasusakucoded · 8 months

Text

Smol Announcement: From now on, sasusakucoded's Sunday is sasusaku au day. Yay!

Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to write more AUs and fanfics. 🙇‍♀️

---

Sakura can't believe how she ended up in this situation— marrying a stranger just because of family ties. In the village, her family is renowned. The Harunos lead the food and fashion industries and Sakura's father is considered as an influential person close to the Hokage.

Her soon-to-be-husband-in-a-few-hours is from the Uchiha clan. They are a humble clan that resides in the remote part of the village.

It's her first time seeing the guy. He looks handsome and quiet but the idea that she has to marry him because of a silly deal between her and his great great grandfathers irks her. Their great great grandfathers were comrades in the last shinobi war. They promised each other to marry off their children to merge their families. The problem is both of them had only one child and both are males. This repeated for several generations until a female was born in the Haruno side.

"You may now kiss the bride."

And just like that, Sakura and Sasuke are married.

---

As soon as they reach their new home, Sakura takes out a two-pager from her bag and gives it to Sasuke. "This is our contract."

Sasuke is confused. He thinks it is their marriage contract from the church. He starts reading it and realizes it's a totally different one.

"Let me get this straight. Only my grandfather wants us to get married. My father just agreed because of the stupid pact. As soon as Grandpa is gone, we'll get a divorce."

This shocks Sasuke. Even if he doesn't like the idea of marrying someone he just met, he has made up his mind that this woman is his wife and he has to take care of her.

Sakura is waiting for his reply. It seems that he can't process her plans. She reiterates, "so we just have to wait."

He nods and reads the contract again. The last line says, "do not fall in love with me."

"If you agree, please sign both pages and keep one as your copy."

He signs it immediately and gives the paper back to her.

"Great." She points at the door, "that will be our bedroom. We should still stay in one room in case they visit us. And oh, the contract is between the two of us only. Don't tell anyone."

"Got it," Sasuke says while following her to the room.

---

The following days are tiring. They have to attend family functions that Sakura's grandfather and Sasuke's parents have prepared.

Sasuke is shy around the Haruno's acquaintances. He stays in one corner and watches them from there. Sakura is quick to find him, reminding him that it's part of their duties as a couple to mingle with others. She takes his hand and introduces him to their friends. Slowly, Sasuke gets the hang of it and enjoys learning new things about Sakura through conversations.

In the Uchiha's abode, things are different. They have a more intimate event. All of Sasuke's favorites have been prepared. Sakura is hesitant to eat crabs and lobsters and Sasuke notices. Apparently, she doesn't know how to open them so Sasuke gladly takes a few and cracks them for her. This makes Sakura happy because she feels special and she appreciates the food more because he helps her.

---

Weeks have passed and Sasuke starts to get more fond of his wife. He learns that she likes designing clothes but her passion is to paint. He likes it when she tells him about the painting techniques she use. He's interested of whatever topic she wants to talk about.

Sakura, on the other hand, finds Sasuke nice and kind. She specially likes it when he prepapres food for her or when he does small things even if she doesn't ask him to do them. He's still too quiet for her though. He only talks when she asks him questions.

They call each other "love" to make their marriage more believable in the eyes of others.

Sakura taps Sasuke's shoulder and gives him a new phone. "Use that. Your current one's cracked screen is an eyesore."

"Thanks, but I can't accept—"

"Just take it," she turns her back and leaves. "I'll be at the gallery until later. Bye!"

---

Sakura is preparing for her art exhibit so she spends more time at her gallery. Sasuke decides to drop by and bring her dinner.

He goes in and sees Sakura talking to someone. It is her father.

"—but really? You're going to give me the most basic man and think that I won't file for a divorce sooner or later?! It's so stupid, Dad! I thought you'll agree with me on this!"

"Hey Sasuke, why are you here? Let's go inside!" says Ino, Sakura's bestfriend.

Sakura and her father look at the door simultaneously and see them.

"I– I just dropped by to bring you food." He puts it on the table while looking down. He greets his father-in-law and nods at Sakura before leaving.

"Hey, you're leaving already?" Ino asked.

He just nods and walks towards the train station.

When he thought they're getting closer, it hits him that everything is part of a ploy. They have a contract to follow and he must not misunderstand things.

"Go home now and say sorry to him," Kizashi says in his stern voice.

"Why would I? What I said.. That's the truth.."

Sakura's father leaves knowing that he can't do anything with her daughter's ego. Ino doesn't dare ask questions. She just tells her that she needs to go too.

Sakura continues her painting, constantly making errors here and there. "Did he hear everything? What does he think of me now? Is he hurt? He must be.. Most basic man.. Why did I even say that? Where did I get that term? He's definitely not basic. He's simple, sure, but far from basic. So why did I say that? Well.. Who cares. This marriage is just a phase.. We'll part ways soon enough.. I couldn't care less of what he feels."

She opens the food bag and sees the note.

Don't forget to eat, Picassokura!

She smiles at how silly it is. She also realizes that she hasn't eaten since afternoon. She opens the bento box and sees that it has some of her favorites. She wants to eat it so bad but her guilt is preventing her.

With no progress, she decides to get food from the vending machine instead. "This is what I deserve," she says while taking her first bite.

She enters the house and sees Sasuke in the kitchen. He greets her and immediately sees the food bag.

"Sakura, I'll take care of that," he says while taking the bag from her.

She's hesitant. The least thing she wants to happen is for him to think that she didn't like the food that he prepared. "No, it's fine!"

Too late. He has the bag and is aware that it's still full. He nods and goes back to the kitchen.

She goes to their bedroom and takes a shower. "You're so stupid, Sakura!! That will hurt him further!!"

She's waiting for him to come into their bedroom but he's still in the kitchen. It's been hours since Sakura arrived, so she goes there to talk to him.

"Hey.. I'm sorry," she starts. "I– I said those words because I was really pissed. I told Dad about the contract and hedidn't agree with me at first.. That's why.."

"It's okay.. What you said is true.. A basic man like me doesn't deserve someone like you.."

"No– I didn't mean–"

"It's okay. It's good that you were upfront."

"But I offended you.. I swear I didn't mean to say those words.."

"Maybe I was offended.. But it's no big deal. That's the truth, I can't do anything about it."

"I want to make it up to you. Tell me anything you want!"

"Paint me," he laughs.

His laughter makes her a little relieved. She agrees to paint him and both of them go to bed.

---

Because of that incident, Sasuke starts to distance himself from Sakura. After all, there's no reason for them to be closer with each other now.

Sakura's days are per usual— she goes to her gallery and paints the promised portrait. It's a surprise to her that she can actually paint him without a reference. She thinks of his face when they eat together, or when he sleeps, or when he's doing some chores.

She calls Ino to look at the painting. "It's done, finally!"

"Wow! Sasuke must be really pleased! Looks like he's from one of those period dramas.. What's the title?"

"I don't have a title yet, to be honest. Do you think he'll like it?"

"I'm sure he will!"

For some reason, Sakura keeps on looking at the door and checking her phone, as if anticipating someone's arrival or message. Ino has noticed this and asks her, "expecting someone?"

"No.. Why?"

"You keep on glancing at the door.. Also, I haven't seen Sasuke these days. Did you tell him not to go here?"

"No, I didn't." It occurs to her just now that Sasuke doesn't visit her anymore. Not even once since she started painting his portrait.

This thought remains in her mind for the rest of the day. Now, she can only think of the things he stopped doing ever since that incident at the gallery happened.

"What do you mean he stopped doing things?"

Aside from her dad, only Ino knows about their situation and plans. She's open with her and trusts her very much.

"He doesn't text me anymore. Before, he sends me multiple texts a day, asking if I've eaten. He doesn't eat dinner with me too. He still prepares the food but it's either he eats later than me or he doesn't eat at all. He also stopped calling me 'love' when we're alone. He only calls me that when we're outside."

"What's the problem? Isn't that what you want?"

"Yeah.. But abrupt change is confusing.."

"Your contract is rather confusing! You say you don't care about him and he shouldn't care about you.. But you keep on doing things for him."

"Ino–"

"You had his parents' distillery up and running. You bought new equipment for his football club. You paid for his clan's mortgage–"

"It's not like I paid much money for that–"

"That's not the point, Sakura. You're doing all these wifey things for him in secret and you're telling yourself that he deserves them because he's nice."

"But.. He's really nice–"

"Yeah! Your driver is also nice. Would you do the same thing?"

"Ino, that's different!"

"And now you're bothered because he stopped doing the little husband things he's been doing."

"I'm not bothered! I'm just.. Confused.."

"Sakura, it's not like your contract is something concrete. You can always terminate your self-made contract, you know. I don't know if you're aware but you talk about him almost 24/7."

"I don't! I just talk about him because he's my current subject!"

"Yeah right! 'Sasuke's football skills is top-tier! Sasuke's hair should be the standard for men's hairstyle! Sasuke did this, Sasuke did that!' Sakura, please. Don't kid yourself."

"But.."

"I haven't seen you paint so passionately before. So, there's really something different. Think about it."

Sakura overthinks about it indeed. She never cared about any guy before. This feeling is new to her, so she's not sure if she just misses his presence or if she's really in love with him. Regardless, she's excited to go home to tell him about the painting.

She's about to close the gallery when she sees a familiar car outside. It's her grandfather. It also seems that he's with her dad.

"Dad? Grandpa? What are you doing here?"

"I am sorry. You shouldn't be burdened by the pact, Sakura," her grandfather says as he enters the gallery.

"What do you mean?" she asks, looking back and forth between her grandfather and dad.

Her grandfather sees the painting. "For someone who doesn't care about someone, you sure did put effort on painting this.. Well, Sakura. You don't need to anymore. You don't need to pretend."

"Grandpa?"

"Sasuke paid a visit this afternoon. He told me everything. You can cancel that contract or whatever deal you have with him. You can file for a divorce freely."

"He went and told you?"

Her grandfather inspects the painting closer. "He said you don't deserve to be punished like this. He'll take the blame if people will ask. He said you shouldn't be trapped because of a deal that happened way before your birth. He's right. I'm sorry, it's my fault. I really just wanted to fulfill my grandfather's wish."

Sakura doesn't know how to react. She wants to say many things but words are not coming out of her mouth.

"Starting tonight, that contract is void. You can live in peace. I'll make sure of that."

"Grandpa.. So.. Does he hate me? He didn't say anything to me.." she asks, almost sobbing.

"No, not at all. He said he loves you, so he knows he has to let you go."

"He said he loves me? He never told me!"

"Because it's part of the contract right? It's funny because it seems that he has memorized every line of those rules–"

"Wait, is he at home?"

"Yes, he said he'll pack his things asap so it's easier for you–"

"I must go. Dad, please close the gallery for me!" She gives him the keys and runs towards her car.

"Hey, don't drive fast!!" Kizashi reminds her.

---

She's panting when she arrives. He's there, ready to leave. He's waiting for her to say goodbye properly.

"Sakura–"

"So, that's it? That's the reason you're not calling me 'love' anymore? That's the reason you stopped doing things you used to do for me? You want to rescind the contract–" She can't continue her statement and starts crying while holding onto him.

"Sakura.. This is what you've always wanted, right?"

"Is it true? You love me?"

"It doesn't matter.."

"Is it true?!" Sakura repeats her question louder.

"It's true! I love you! It hurts that you'll never love me back but it hurts me more to see you miserable with me! I'd rather let you go than see you hating your life because of that stupid pact."

"Who said I was miserable? Because of that one incident? Sasuke, you don't understand. I've never been this happy before.."

"You were happy.. with me?"

"I was in denial because it would hurt my ego. I made that contract.. I made the rules.. Then I'll be the one to break them? I kept on telling myself you're just nice.. You're kind and cool.. That's why I like you. But it's deeper than that, Sasuke. I love you. I know it took me so long to realize.. But I can't see myself living here or anywhere else without you by my side."

Sasuke can't believe what he's hearing. This can't be real. He can't process that the woman who despises the idea of getting married to him is now in love with him.

"Sakura. Are you sure? It's your chance to be free again."

"Did you know, I've finished your portrait today. I was so happy. I was pleased with the result.. Before I left the gallery, I put the title on it thinking I'll surprise and show you tomorrow." Sakura takes his hand. "You know what, come! Let's go there now."

Sakura calls her dad to go back and open the gallery for her. He complies and even her grandfather is intrigued.

When Sasuke and Sakura arrive, it's already open. It's obvious that Sakura cried on their way and her father can't help but worry.

"This.. This is beautiful, Sakura. Thank you.." Sasuke says while looking at its entirety.

"There's the title," Sakura points at a small card at the bottom of the painting.

"Love of the Artist's Life.. Sakura?"

"If that's still not enough for you to believe that I love you–"

Sasuke pulls her for a hug. "I'm sorry. I should've told you. You don't have to prove anything, Sakura. Just tell me I'm allowed to love you and I will. With all my heart."

Sakura takes the contract from her bag and torns it into pieces. "Null and void! Sasuke, please love me with all your heart and I promise you that my heart is yours and yours alone."

"I think we can leave now, Kizashi. So, nothing changes right? You guys are still married. Our ancestors are pleased with the fulfilled pact.. Everybody happy. Good." Sakura's grandfather laughs. "Sasuke, you take care of her. That's my only wish."

"I will, sir. That's a promise."

Kizashi leaves with his father. "Dad said everything I wanted to say. Take care, Sakura, Sasuke. We're leaving."

Sasuke is still staring at the painting. "It's really detailed, love.."

"You don't know how much I missed you calling me that."

Sasuke kisses her and says, "let's go home. I have to unpack and organize everything again."

They shared a laugh. "Don't worry, your wife is going to help you."

"You mean the love of my life."

"Hey, that's my title for you! Pick another one!"

#sasusaku #sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku au #uchihas #sscoded no 225

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mendes-bae · 2 years

Text

A fair exchange — part four

series masterlist ; part three ; part five

Part four summary: Velarys and Aemond's daughter is born, everything should be happiness, right?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x (F) Targaryen!reader

Warning: NSFW 🔞 incest, angst, kissing, smut, PiV sex, unprotected sex, CHARACTER DEATH, depression, trauma, grieving, bittersweet chapter ending.

Author's note: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! this is my first time writing a fic in English, so beforehand, i'm sorry 👀

All the rights belong to the showrunners of HOTD and George R.R Martin, author of Fire and blood & Song of ice and fire series‼️

Word count: 2390

At least eight moons had passed since Aemond and Velarys Targaryen were joined in marriage. They had discovered that they were very happy together, the prince adored his now very pregnant wife and she adored him even more.

Velarys was stroking her swollen belly as she read a book about healing ointments and medicines when she heard the door opening.

"I have excellent news!" Aemond said as he entered the chambers he shared with his wife.

"What's going on?" Velarys asked, settling down on the sofa carefully because every day that pass moving was more difficult: her stomach didn't stop growing.

"Vhagar gave birth to three beautiful eggs"

Velarys smiled, many of the dragon keepers said that the dragon was too old to have babies.

"It worked then... put our dragons in the same pit"

"Well… it was a bit of a rough match" the prince laughed, sitting down next to his wife.

"Why?" She looked at Aemond curiously.

"Vaghnar got a little bit excited and hurt my dragon" he smiled mischievously.

"Vaghnar has lived wild most of his life, you can't blame him. He has improved a lot temperamentally, and his relationships with other dragons are more civilized now"

Aemond showed the dragon eggs that he was holding in his hands: their shells were silver resembling Valyrian steel, dark blue almost black, and pristine white.

"The matter is that our daughter will have her own dragon egg," Aemond said, stroking Velarys's belly.

The princess smiled.

“How do you know that is a girl?”

"I just feel it"

"Well... in a couple of moons we'll find out."

Aemond smiled as he imagined a baby in his arms. He get closer to Velarys and kissed her slowly.

The princess caressed his ribs and in a blink her hands entered her husband's pants.

"Lady Dorella says that having sex during pregnancy helps ease pain and contractions" said Velarys moving her hand over Aemond's cock "I'm willing to try that method"

The dragon prince growled.

"And who am I to deny anything to my beloved wife?"

Aemond bit his lip and moved closer to the princess.

Velarys got up from the sofa and the prince thought that they would take the fun to the huge bed in the center of the room, but the white-hair woman surprised him: she raised the linen gown to her hips and exposed her sex while she was on her hands and knees.

"Do you want me that much, wife?" Aemond asked pulling his pants down.

"Always, my love" she replied in moans, wishing him inside her.

"So much that you want me to take you here and not in our bed... where we conceived our child and where we will conceive more?" he nestled his erection against her butt.

Velarys moaned and pressed against him, beginning to rub against his manhood, wanting to tease him further.

When she least expected it, his member entered inside her. For a while, he did nothing else than rub her back and moaning at the feeling of being inside her, but then he began to move quickly.

In the room, only their groans and moans could be heard, as well as the noise of their skins colliding.

"Faster, Aemond" the princess begged.

A desperate Aemond began to move wildly heeding her request, while her hands squeezed his ass, giving him pleasurable pain.

In a couple more thrusts, the prince made both of them came. Aemond cupped Velarys's large breasts and caressed them gently.

"I love you, Velarys" the prince confessed for the first time.

His sweaty forehead was on one of his wife's shoulders, his eyes were closed waiting for her answer.

"I love you too, Aemond" replied the princess crawling into his arms.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Aemond came back from Old Town as fast as Vhagar's wings could fly. He was visiting his younger brother, Daeron, at the Hightower ancestral castle and Velarys had been unable to accompany him due to the advanced stage of her pregnancy.

When the raven arrived Old Town, Aemond left everything behind and didn't care who he might offend with his hasty departure.

Aemond ran up the Red Keep steps and even from the lower floors he could hear his wife's cries of pain.

In the hall, Alicent prayed for her daughter-in-law and the coming baby to the Seven, beside her Helaena rocked Jaehaera lovingly as the little girl slept.

"Aemond!" his mother said when she saw him appear.

The prince ignored her and tried to enter the room where his wife was.

"Aemond, the Mestres are taking care of her, you don't want to go in"

"That's up to me, Mother" he said, wriggling free of the queen's grasp. "my wife and our child are inside, I must be with them"

His mother and sister didn't say a thing since neither of their husbands had been at any of their children births.

Aemond opened the huge doors and immediately saw Velarys exhausted and flushed, her white hair was drenched with sweat, the sheets and her bed gown were bloody.

He ran to his wife's side and took her trembling hand.

"You came" said Velarys between sobs.

"I came as soon as I can, my brave wife" he replied kissing her hand.

Velarys cried out when a contraction showed.

"I see baby's head... white hair as the clouds in the sky" said the Mester.

"This hurts like hell" the princess complained.

"I know, my love" he kissed his wife's temple "you can do it"

"Once again, my princess, push!" ordered the old man.

The baby's cries filled the room and the royal couple closed their eyes in relief.

"Is a beautiful girl, your highness" said the Mester wrapping the baby with the blankets that Rose Westerling gave him.

The new parents smiled at the news.

"Bring her to me" said the mother extending her arms.

Rose walked up carefully to her lady with her daughter in arms and handed her over.

"She is so beautiful" said Velarys with tears in her eyes.

"Yes, she is" answered Aemond admiring his sweet daughter "Just like her mother"

Aemond lovingly kissed his wife's lips.

The room doors opened and the King and the Queen entered.

"Congratulations, blood of my blood!" Viserys said with a big smile on his face.

The new parents couldn't help but staring the little girl in her mother's arms.

"She is a beautiful girl, Velarys" Alicent praised looking at the baby "How will you call her?"

"Ellarys" replied the white-hair woman with her daughter's little finger curled around hers.

Aemond smiled at her lovely name.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Ellarys was indeed a sweet girl: the light in her parents' eyes, they loved her too much.

And although the young Targaryens would face anything for the little girl, there are enemies that were invisible: Ellarys had the misfortune to fall ill with a terrible disease that affected the Westeros youngest ones, ravens said that children in Winterfell had passed by this disease, even in the south of the continent people were grieving their children.

Ellarys suffered from fever for days, red spots spread all over her body and cough didn't let her sleep at night. Velarys and Aemond felt the world fall at their feet each time her daughter breathed in pain.

Velarys spent the night by her side, holding her tiny hand, Aemond was on the sofa in front of her bed dozing because his sleep was winning him over. At some point in the late morning, the princess was also overcome by exhaustion and when she woke up she noticed that her little daughter's chest was not moving.

"Ellarys!" The Mestres entered the girl's room alarmed by the princess's screams and tried to do something to help her, but it was too late, the girl had left this world.

Velarys blamed herself for the death of her little daughter. If she hadn't fallen asleep, she might have called the Mestres and they could have saved her.

The young mother could not assimilate what was happening: the wrapped body of her little two-year-old daughter was on the pyre in the same meadow where her mother and brother were burned to ashes years ago.

Velarys could only think that she would no longer see her in the gardens or jumping through the Red Keep corridors, that she would no longer braid her hair or she would never sing her to sleep again. Her heart was squeezing with pain.

Vaghnar and Vhagar silently watched their riders, awaiting for instructions. Beside them was Silverfyre who moaned in pain as he didn't feel her little mistress.

Silverfyre followed Vaghnar as if he were his shadow and even though Velarys was not her rider, the creature obeyed the princess's orders.

Aemond held Velarys's hand tightly, trying to contain his tears because he must be the support of his sad wife.

With broken voice Aemond ordered Vhagar:

"Dracarys!"

Velarys screamed, got free of her husband's grasp and ran to the pyre.

Aemond wrapped his arms around her and both of them fell to their knees in front of her burning daughter, the young mother crying out for the child's loss.

The Targaryens mourned with Princess Velarys the death of the innocent little one and all of Realm's fallen kids.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Velarys had not been the same since Ellarys had died, almost a moon ago.

She no longer laughed or sang, and most importantly, she no longer rode her dragon.

She cried until she had no more tears to cry. She hardly ate or drank and spent her days in bed, she didn't comb her hair or wear other clothes than her night gown. She didn't let anyone enter the room, except Aemond but she didn't even say a word to him.

She was a ghost, Aemond's heart ached because of his little girl lost but he felt that in a way he had also lost his wife.

Aemond entered the room and saw Rose Westerling (the only person besides him who could be with her) spilling water on her hair.

"Leave us" he ordered the maiden.

The princess's lady-in-waiting stopped what she was doing and she left the chambers.

Aemond knelt beside Velarys and admired her wife's profile: as usual, she was staring the wall and barely blinking.

The prince took her hand and placed a kiss on it. He dropped her hand and took the vanilla soap that was set aside to clean his wife's shoulders.

Aemond gazed at the princess's body with pain, her bones protruding from the little bit of food she ate and her skin extremely pale from lack of sun.

He was washing his hair when he heard Velarys say in a whisper:

"Do the Gods hate me?"

Aemond put down the bar of soap and studied her carefully.

"What have I done to face their anger?"

"You haven't done anything" Her husband replied brushing her hair "The Gods are unfair sometimes, it's not your fault"

"She was a good girl" she said referring to Ellarys. "she was a sweet and kind girl. She didn't deserve it"

"Of course not" Aemond caressed her cheek.

"I want to die" she said suddenly between sobs.

"Don't say that" the prince sat up over the tub, his shirt sleeves getting wet.

"I want this pain to end, I just want to be with my little girl" she closed her eyes.

Aemond cupped her cheeks.

"Velarys, I love you with all my heart" he confessed "if you die... if you leave me alone in this world, a part of me leaves with you"

The prince didn't mind being dressed, he made room behind Velarys and entered the tub to hug his wife tightly.

They held each other until the water cooled, Velarys stopped sobbing, and her bare skin turned cold.

He could hold her for hours, days, and whole moons if it meant she wasn't going to leave him.

￮ ੭ 𓈒 ˙ 🐉🐉🐉 ˳ ⊹ ˚ 𝅄

Velarys watched Aemond fight Sir Criston like every morning, the way he dealt grief. She watched for a long time without anyone noticing her. Aemond saw her and immediately dropped his sword. It was the first time that Velarys had left their chambers.

"Shall we take a dragon ride?" The princess asked shyly.

Aemond nodded softly and walked with their hands linked.

When the couple entered the dragons pit, they noticed the silence reign in the cave. Velarys was walking by inertia and got scared when a little beast no bigger than a cow ran up to her.

The princess snapped out of her shock and realized that the creature was Silverfyre, little Ellarys's dragon. She had never been able to ride it because she varely knew how to speak well, but the beast had been hatched between her blankets when she was born and when the girl got her first tooth, the shell of her egg broke. From the time it hatched until the last days of her child's life, the little silver-scaled beast had been by her side, the bond between them was stronger than any other rider and their dragon.

As Velarys reached the little Dragon, Silverfyre wrapped her tail around the princess's arm and with her head sought the warmth of the white-haired’s chest.

“Nyke ozmijegon yel” I miss her too.

Aemond heard Velarys said as he watched them from the cave entrance.

Aemond approached them and when he was about to climbed Vhagar’s back the princess said:

"For this time, will you ride with me?" her husband looked at Vaghnar "I want to be next to you"

Vhagar roared from across the pit, implying that she didn't mind, Aemond didn't need him to say it twice.

They flew for hours, Aemond tightly hugging Velarys's waist. He stroked her hair which was blowing loose in the wind and thanked whatever God was listening to have Velarys by his side.

"I love you" he said in her ear.

"I love you too" replied his wife.

Part five

Taglist

@mynameisbaby9 @princessmiaelicia @sustisama @daddysfavoritesexkitten

@deeeeexx @zverea @tempo-rary-fix

@stargaryenx @filmelunar @yor72

@tivedetek4869 @maviee @remuslupinwifee @fuckinglittlekitten @may-machin @kaitieskidmore1 @zillahvathek

@marvelita85 @25falsafielisa

@solacestyles @polireader

@mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @loomipee

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wonder-worker · 8 months

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It is of course possible that Richard (III) only advanced his own claim to the throne after he was informed by a deeply troubled Bishop Stillington that Edward V and his brother were illegitimate. It is possible, but highly implausible. The case finally put together concerning the bastardy of the princes, and enrolled in a parliamentary statute of January 1484, is theologically sound. It was that Edward IV had entered a pre-contract of marriage with Eleanor Butler before he had married Elizabeth Woodville and that this rendered his children by her illegitimate. Under canon law, had Edward IV entered a pre-contract of marriage with Eleanor Butler, all the children born of a later union, before or after Eleanor’s death, even if Elizabeth Woodville had been ignorant of the previous liaison, would have been illegitimate. In this respect the fact that Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville had married clandestinely made matters worse. Moreover, it was perfectly acceptable in law to raise objection on these grounds several years after the event. The pre-contract story, in its final form, presented a strong legal case.

There are, however, several sound reasons for doubting its truth. While it is the case that parliament was a proper body to adjudicate on matters of inheritance that resulted from illegitimacy, in England in the later-fifteenth century an ecclesiastical court should have heard the original charge. And if it were true, why was it not put before such a court so as to remove all doubts? Moreover, even if it had been proved that Edward V and his brother were illegitimate, deposition was not the only course open to the protector. The stain of illegitimacy could have been removed by the ritual of coronation. Edward V, like Elizabeth I later, could have been declared legitimate and all doubts removed. Above all, the revelation of the princes’ bastardy was so timely and convenient as to leave little doubt in the minds of contemporaries that it was but the colour for an act of usurpation.

There is, too, a suspicious degree of confusion over the precise detail of the charge of illegitimacy as it was first advanced in June. Mancini’s account of the sermons and speeches hints at a change in the story. At first the charge appeared to be that Edward IV himself was a bastard; two days later it seems that the princes were. The first official government statement appears in a letter dated 28 June to the captain of Calais informing him that his oath of loyalty to Edward V was no longer valid. Many people, he was assured, had made similar oaths in ignorance of Richard III’s true title which had been shown and declared in a petition presented by the lords spiritual and temporal and the commons on 26 June, a copy of which was to be sent to Calais for publication. Unfortunately that copy has not survived. The earliest surviving version is, therefore, that transcribed as part of the parliamentary act settling the throne on Richard. This purports to reproduce that petition verbatim, but doubts have been cast on its veracity. It is possible that the final, official version, had been subsequently amended. Even so, there is no reason to doubt that the substance of the original petition of 26 June was the same as that reproduced in January: namely that ‘all the issue of the said King Edward been bastards’

It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that Richard III usurped the throne in June 1483. Perhaps in retrospect what happened appears more controlled and more deliberate than was in fact the case. We tend to favour a conspiratorial view of the past, where often a ‘cock-up’ theory might be more applicable. Did Richard III mastermind a brilliantly conceived and skilfully executed coup d’état? Or did it all happen in confusion, ignorance and fear? Richard might well have had a plan to take the throne by one means, but found that he had to change it as events developed.

... We should not assume that the usurpation was conducted according to a timetable; but there are nevertheless several observations that can be made with some certainty. The first is that Richard took and never surrendered the initiative. It is hard to sustain the idea that he was forced into usurpation by circumstances or by his rivals’ actions. He did not need to seize Rivers and his companions at Stony Stratford; he did not need to execute Hastings on 13 June. On both these occasions experienced politicians walked unsuspectingly into a trap. None of Richard’s victims in the summer of 1483 anticipated the fate awaiting them. In modern jargon, Richard was proactive, not reactive. The second observation is that Richard acted with unprecedented ruthlessness. His enemies were executed without trial. They were not in arms against their sovereign; they were not taken after battle and slain even under the colour of the law of arms. There was no pretence of lawful process. They were murdered in cold blood. The third observation is that Richard faced little opposition. Potential opposition was removed by pre-emptive strikes. The fourth observation is that he deposed a boy of twelve, his nephew, who on his own insistence had been placed in his trust.

The magnitude of what (Richard III) did should not be played down. Edward V was not of an age to have caused personal political offence. He could not be accused of tyranny, like Richard II, or gross incompetence, like Henry VI. He had begun to reign, but he had not yet ruled. The usurpation of 1483 was of a fundamentally different order to those of 1399, 1461, or even 1485. Those, whether justifiable or not, were acts of the last resort. In 1483, uniquely, deposition was used as a weapon of first resort.

-A.J Pollard, "Richard III and the Princes in the Tower"

#SAY IT LOUDER 👏🏻#it's definitely ridiculous when people act as though Richard's actions in 1483 were typical of its time or 'just another usurpation'#absolutely not #it was unprecedentedly ruthless unpredictable and unnecessary #people did not go around casually imprisoning bastardizing and murdering their own pre-teen nephews #r*chard iii #edward v #princes in the tower #15th century #english history #the wars of the roses #queue #my post

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evita-shelby · 2 months

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National Anthem

Chapter 10

Cw: mentions of sex (duh) period typical misogyny, some racism and technically a curse

Tag list: @thegreatdragonfruta @zablife @cljordan-imperium @call-sign-shark

Easter 1923

Ever since he was a kid, Jack’s dreamed of owning the world.

His apartment had been good, modern and spacious and perfect for a bachelor. When his ambition decided he needed a wife to complete his success, he looked for a perfect starter house.

One that would be seen as the beginning of his rise, one that would become the steppingstone for his future.

He’d carried Eva over the threshold just as he’d done when he took her to the townhouse he shared with Carrie for Gina’s sake. He had fucked her in every surface of the house, built a marriage that would have everyone doubt this had been an arrangement made in the span of a week.

Their current home was great, perfect for a growing family with a long veranda for the children, a garage that was every middle-class car aficionado’s dream and yet it won’t be long before they leave it too.

Jack never dreams small; he hadn’t known exactly what this dream home would be until he saw Rockwood Hall.

J.D. Rockefeller had made the second largest mansion in all of America, so grand that his own descendants had to sell it after his death. So grand only the Rileys could afford it now that they gained government contracts through his connections.

“We should get one of these.” He says as he takes Rosie in his arms and the boys run off to play with the other children.

Little Jack turns back long enough to hug his mother goodbye and Little Joey is already yelling at the boys he met at the last family gathering. They gather with her family for the big holidays after that fiasco during the first thanksgiving when the twins were born.

They’d spend Easter here, the 4th of July at home, come here for September 16th before the boys start their first day of school –of which he’s taking the day off work because Eva said so--- and miss Florida because Eva was due in November.

Katherine Drusilla Nelson, Duchess of Devonshire and conceived in the most coveted bed in the world on Valentine’s Day. Named for his late elder sister who died of consumption along with Gina and their mother, and for Eva’s aunt, the formidable Olivia Drusilla Riley de Souza.

Livia doesn’t like him, told him to his face and repeated it that first Thanksgiving they hosted in 1919. Thought he was beneath them and unworthy of her favorite niece. But she practically raised Eva because her mother got the baby blues and so he put up with her…enough to have her share his daughter’s name.

“I like the one we rented in Hyannis Port for July 4th last year, Malcom Cottage, was it? Although I am partial to the villa in Florida.” Eva mentions acting as if they had to choose between one. She grew up in several houses, always moving about with the parents or relatives caring for her when she wasn’t in school.

“Why settle for one, when we can have it all?” It’s like when she asked if they could keep the tradition of middle names for their children because the two of them also had middle names, she didn’t even need to ask to know the answer is always yes.

Besides his witch of a wife has never been wrong before, never will be if you ask him.

“About fucking time, I hate telling people you live in the suburbs, that’s so middle class.” Gina said making her dear uncle reprimand her for swearing in front of the children.

“Language, Gina.”

While Rosie struggled with talking, she’d picked up swearing with ease. She learned to say shit from hearing Jack hurt himself in the garage one fucking time.

Their sweet little angel smiled impishly and muttered the word ‘fuck’ as she bit the gold crucifix they got her for Easter.

Well, they were never gonna make angels anyways.

Family gatherings were fine, for the most part. Sure, her aunt would make backhanded remarks towards Jack in her face, while also outright insulting him outright the moment her back was turned, it went well mostly.

It wasn’t because he was American, new money nor a gangster. It was simply because he wasn’t Cornelius Vanderbilt IV, the man Livia had picked out for her like he was a new dress she’d gifted her.

Vanderbilt seemed nice, but he was rather boring. Well, boring in comparison to Jack who then had desecrated a confessional with her and boldly taken her to his place where they planned their future after he made her scream herself hoarse in pleasure.

Had Jack not been so good in bed ---and out of it--- maybe Eva would have been Mrs. Vanderbilt and kept the rebellious Vanderbilt heir from being bankrupt and disinherited from his family.

“I just don’t see what you see in him.” Livia looked at the man as if he were something the cat dragged in as he roughhoused with the boys in the garden. “He’s too full of himself, he has no class, he’s too hairy, his features all look like his face is too big to hold them, what did he have that Cornelius didn’t besides a business degree and a gang?”

Eva always gets this question and she’d just shrug and answer with something equal parts vulgar and the usual ‘I don’t really know’, this time she says the one thing that matters to someone who married for money and influence. “Because he will take us places we never even reached in Mexico, and that sweet little boy named after his father, will be the youngest president this country will have.”

Her aunt is impressed, she had been disappointed thinking Eva was like her mother who married because she saw true love with her father even if he had nothing but a stolen watch to his name.

Eva was not like her mother, she could never be happy with a man who didn’t want more, Jack had ambition and lucky for her, would only ever be hers.

“I suppose I can see something about him now. If he is taking us further than we ever could’ve done at home, I could even call him my nephew. After all people marry into our family, they never marry out of here.” Her red-haired aunt changed her tune exactly like the witch had known it would happen.

Jack is wary of Livia’s sudden acceptance for the rest of the day, utterly stumped at why she’d stop being such a bitch to him. But he enjoys it, loves pushing her buttons to see how long this kindness lasts.

“What did you tell her when you were out on the balcony with her?” he asks when they are finally alone in their luxurious suite complete with a nursery. The boys were having a sleepover with her cousin Francisco’s son across the wing and Rosie had claimed the princess bed in her own room.

Last time they were here, the Nelsons hadn’t been able to enjoy the bed as they had hoped and now wanted to make up for it. And they had since they put the children to bed.

“She asked why I chose you that day and I answered honestly for once.” Eva answered teasing him, toying with the curly hairs on his chest knowing he would guess wrong.

“You told your aunt we defiled a church for our first date?” he asks, taken aback by it. Everyone knew they had obviously fucked while on the maybe ten dates they had. Once they’d been so insatiable for each other they’d snuck off at dinner to fuck in a broom closet.

“God, no, she would’ve killed the two of us.” Eva shook her head. “I told her little Jack Nelson Junior’s going to be president of the united fucking states of America. If she still doesn’t like you after that, Junior might remember it when he’s living at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Threatening your auntie for me, Evie. How sweet of you. You deserve a reward.” He is so proud of her and touched by what she did that he adds a spontaneous, “I love you.”

He is not fond of saying it in public, but oh he is as sweet as honey the moment the doors close. Usually, it is her who says it first these days.

“I love you too.” Eva kissed him hoping to show her love in a much more passionate way, but the second Jack gently moved her underneath him they hear Gina’s girlish scream followed by crying and slurs from the blonde girl’s own mouth.

“I told you we shouldn’t have brought her.” Jack groaned and both rushed to find their clothes. “I’m putting her on the next train to Manhattan, let her mother deal with her for the rest of Easter.”

It is uncharitable to say, but if one of the girls hit nineteen-year-old Gina, she likely deserved it. Her time at university had actually made her worse, the only people to blame are the sorority she joined and herself. Unfortunately, she was expelled for her shitty behavior and won’t be going back next week.

They are in New York when they see Shelby again.

He is here to ensure the custody of his son whom the world will believe was Clive’s because Grace wanted to keep her dignity. Jack was here for business matters relating to the will since little Charlie would inherit a portion of Jack’s companies.

“She is cursed, you know.” Eva speaks quietly in rromani so Grace nor Jack know what is being said as she tries to argue for her son’s inheritance. “Even my husband can smell the death on her skin like perfume.”

“If I don’t marry her my son will not be mine.” He admits. There was regret in his voice, a look that said that the Grace he loved was not the woman he is getting to know.

The real Grace wants to be accepted by the class that hates people like Eva, Tommy and even Jack. The real Grace feels no guilt because her happiness is what comes first always. The real Grace is not the persona she crafted in 1919 to get his attention.

But it was too late now.

“She won’t live to see his third birthday, if you marry her, you will go mad with her death knowing Polly Gray’s curse came true because of you.” The witch warns him, as much as she hates Grace for breathing she doesn’t want the blonde dead.

“Your husband wants her gone from America even if it kills her.” he points out.

Jack wants her dead for what she did to Clive, for what she did to their IRA contacts and because she is just as phony as the rest of her ilk.

“If a woman drove your friend to suicide for a man in love with a mirage of her, you would hate her too.” Eva replied honestly making Shelby wince.

“You witches think you know everything, don’t you?” he deflects thinking he can fool her like he fools Grace.

“That’s because we do. Come February of next year and you will be burying her as Mrs. Shelby and yourself as the fool who killed her. If you let her and the boy go, she will hate you but live to raise her son and see her grandchildren. Do you love her enough to let her go once and for all?”

Grace leaves the lawyer’s offices with the threat of having Charlie MacMillan’s true paternity exposed on every tabloid here and across the pond if she marries Tommy Shelby because even Jack doesn’t want her blood on his hands. She can have respectability and life, or death and infamy attached to the Caron and Burgess names the second she becomes Mrs. Shelby.

And yet that same summer they receive an invitation from Grace for their wedding in January of 1924 at Arrow House, the estate she doesn’t know he bought with May in mind. Her family will not even stick around for the funeral out of the shame she brought them.

In the end, Grace dies because she refused to move on from Thomas Shelby no matter how hard he tried to drive her away.

#evacore #national anthem fic #jack nelson #jack nelson x eva smith #eva smith shelby #jack nelson x oc

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asexualbuthorny · 3 months

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I’m a background character but the villain’s mine pt.5

CW: past toxic relationships, future smut, fear of SA, snuggling and cuddling, Mpreg mention, Mendella is confusion, reader continues to simp

I’m a background character but the villain’s mine pt.5

CW: past toxic relationships, future smut, fear of SA, snuggling and cuddling, Mpreg mention, Mendella is confusion, reader continues to simp

Your and Mendellas wedding was almost pathetically small and quick. You didn’t mind of course since you didn’t really like large crowds or big and loud events that dragged on for hours. Your poor brothers were almost always the unfortunate witnesses to any tantrums caused by fear or discomfort. They were very understanding and more often than not tried to help you get some piece in some way. When you told them about your marriage and to whom you were getting married to your brothers got a little concerned before quickly realizing that you were after all in your right mind and knew what you were doing. Warnings and wishes for you to be safe and careful were exchanged but your family was supportive of your union. Your father sadly couldn’t make it to the ceremony since he was retired and traveling the world and the timing of your wedding didn’t give him any time to come back. He did send a present though so that was nice of him. Now as for Mendellas family...They looked as haughty and arrogant as ever. Walking around as if they owned the place *tch*. You were kind of ready to leap at your brides brothers throat because of the way the other man was looking at Mendella. Like the most radiant person in the world was nothing more than an eyesore. You were lowkey fuming but also had to hold yourself back from purring way too loud during the ceremony ‘cause of how happy you were. Mendella looked more relieved too as the event came to an end. He was really eager to get away from his family you guessed.....

Finally. Finally Mendella could breath a sigh of relief as his marriage to (Name)(Lastname) became official. Now his family could do absolutely nothing to him as the contract they all signed stated that he now fully belonged to the other lord. Belonging to someone as if he were mere property hurt his pride but this was better than being forced into the bed of a man almost thrice his age (and from what little interaction they had (Name) really didn’t seem that bad). Since everyone wanted to end this whole thing as quick as possible there was no banquet and after the official part and brief congratulations from both families everyone went their own ways. To say that Mendella wasn’t anxious would have been a lie because now he had satisfying his new husband to worry about and the last thing he needed was another failed pairing. He had to make their first married night memorable lest his savior gets disappointed. Mendella did promise to make it worthwhile and he will. Not matter how painful or humiliating it gets....

Once you and your now husband arrived at your home you were ready to lay down and spend the rest of the day sleeping beside the best person in the world. Oh how you longed to hold him, to cuddle with him on your warm and soft bed, to kiss him anywhere and everywhere he would let you, to shower him with gifts and love. “Ah~ my dear husband. The ceremony may be over but I still have one last thing for you before we go rest” after saying that you cringe inwardly because seriously? How lame could you get? Is it appropriate to call him that? Should you have waited? What even is social interaction? Stopping your thoughts you go and retrieve the gift you’ve had prepared a long ass time ago. The present was born from a frankly insane delusion and a hyper fixation that followed. You hadn’t slept for a long time and began thinking how you could possibly wow the only person who shined in your heart. And since you knew that crystal flowers were your main big thing and Mendella hated things that were useless and obstinate you created fully crystal flowers that would never wilt and remain beautiful and shiny forever. When you presented the omega with the flowers his ears perked up in visible interest since nowhere else had he ever seen fully crystal flowers. “Wha-? How? For me?” “Yes for you. How I made them is a secret but I knew you disliked useless and temporary things so I made you something that would stay forever and actually has a use!” you interrupted his stuttering while enjoying his flustered expression very much. ‘Did I do good? Do you like me? Am I being a good husband?’. The questions in your head were endless...

To gift him something like this...What was your angle? Mendella wasn’t even sure what was going on anymore. You made those flowers especially for him. What could Mendella do to be even with you pay everything back was beyond him. Just what would you have him do? The omegas imagination immediately conjured up images of being pinned beneath you and being fucked painfully while you degrade him and whisper promises of even more pain in his ear. Would you demand heirs of him right away? It would be very difficult to get pregnant when not in heat, drugs existed of course, but from what Mendella knew drug induced heats could be dangerous so he sincerely hoped you wouldn’t force that on him....

It was finally evening and you all could rest after a frankly exhausting day. You were in the room that was prepared for you and Mendella for your “wedding night”. You were sweating once again because who wouldn’t be pouring buckets in this situation? You were both almost naked! “(Name) we should- we should preform our ah marital duties” Mendella whispered so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him. Your ears twitched. You felt yourself begin to blush. “HUh!? Uh yea sure duties yea” you were really a master at making a fool out of yourself weren’t you?....

You two shuffled around on the bed until Mendella laid beneath you your eyes meeting as you tried to calm yourself. Although...Something was wrong. The more you looked at your husband the more your stomach churned. He didn’t look like he wanted this at all. In fact he looked like he would rather be anywhere else than here, with you. You were getting sick. You can’t do it. Not like this. “Mendella. I-I can’t. I’m sorry it’s just that-that you look like I’ll kill you if you breathe wrong. I-I don’t know” you mumbled as you got off of him and sat at the edge of the bed. “Bu-Wait! We must! We-” the omega got up as well and scooted closer to you in an attempt to get you to do what you were “supposed to”. You turn to look at him “We don’t have to do anything.” you huff “It’s no ones business what we do in the bedroom” “I don’t want to do anything if you don’t truly want it” you tried to placate the man next to you. Mendellas ears were pressed firmly against his head as he tried to think of what to do. “But it’s my duty to satisfy you. You know that I’m sure” the omega tried again. You tsk-ed as you took your husbands hands in your own. “My dear I’ll be honest with you. I could go my entire life without having sex with you if you never wanted it. I have a perfectly functional hand and access to more toys than most people could imagine.” “What about a mistress?” the stars of the universe asked you. “I would rather swallow glass than betray you in that way. The day we were married I became yours just as much as you became mine.”. You kiss his hands and your tail slowly and gently winds itself around his own. “My dear husband” you begin “May I hold you tonight? Nothing more I just wish to be near you. You can say no and I’ll leave or sleep on the floor. Anything to make you most comfortable”. Mendella sat there for a bit before his ears relaxed and his tail gently squeezed yours. “I’ll allow you to hold me for the night. It would reflect badly on us if the groom got kicked out of the marital bed.”. You purred with with happiness and your noises got even louder as the two of you got beneath the covers. You made sure to hold him gently as you nuzzled into his hair. Your warmth seeped into Mendellas skin as he relaxed into your hold. You two laid there, your tails intertwined as you dozed off to dreamland....

#my story #my writing #original work #I'm a background character but the villain's mine #dom reader #dom!reader #alpha male reader #omegaverse #omega male character #male reader x male character #what if i made art for my fic?#wouldn't that be something?#i finshed writing this at 3 in the morning so idk what went where

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rayadraws · 2 months

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The way Wyll's and Cirrus' relationship develops (starting with canon events in BG3 and then with my own HC:s/working off that is like) amuses me because it's like-

What people THINK:

Wyll Ravengard, the duke's son and folk hero, suddenly disappears. When he's finally back in the city he has been transformed into some kind of devil, sporting great horns and a red-on-black eye, etc. He's married(?!) to another devil, a sorcerer one - apparently the marriage took place in Avernus, one of the hells, where Wyll supposedly spent the better part of a year. The duke claims all is well, but clearly Wyll sold his soul to that other devil or something, he probably enchanted him to look more like himself too.

What REALLY happened:

Wyll is abducted by the Illithids, he ends up running into another group of abductees, among them a tiefling sorcerer named Cirrus. The two of them quickly catch each others' eye, starting with curiosity that grows into fondness that grows into love. Cirrus helps Wyll end his contract with his warlock patron (though not before she punishes him by transforming him), as well as helps save his father the duke's life.

Wyll eventually proposes and Cirrus accepts, but soon after they travel to Avernus to help save their friend Karlach's life. While there they decide to marry proper, given that they aren't sure they'll even survive this and want to at least get that far - and besides, everyone knows infernal contracts are absolutely airtight, best you can get. Eventually they make their way back to Baldur's Gate, where Wyll presents his spouse to the court.

Bonus:

The first rumour among the nobles is doubtless that Wyll first met Cirrus in Avernus, but eventually it's found out that no, he's actually a Baldurian too, specifically from the poor Grey Harbour area aka the Docks. It's been confirmed in fact - apparently he had a reputation growing up there where he was known as the "Bad Omen". Something about an unexpected tiefling baby being born during a terrible storm.

For the first time ever, Cirrus' undeserved reputation Sort Of works in his favour lol

#bg3 #wyll x tav #cirrus #wyll ravengard

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azucarmorena97 · 1 month

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Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.7)

Pt.6 || Pt.8

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Recap: "Jungkook," Your shocked expression is no match for the expression on his face: serious yet gentle eyes, lips parted slightly as he catches his breath, leaning lightly on the door frame. "What are you doing here?" You ask. He bites his bottom lip and just stares at you for a second, "You didn't come tonight." "You never came back last night," You say, not missing a beat. He nods, "I know..." You rest your hand on the door for a bit, considering whether or not to let him in. "Come in," You say finally, stepping aside to let him in past you. You suppose the rain can wait for you...

You close the door behind you, and then slowly turn. You're not sure why, but your heart is pounding- so loud, you can almost hear it. Can he? He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets. Usually, one might expect for a guest to look around, inspect the unfamiliar place- then again, his parents literally own the hotel. You don't even want to know how many of these rooms he's seen...how many of these rooms Lisa has seen...

"Please, sit." You say, motioning to the seat where your dress was previously draped on. He nods, footsteps silent on the carpet as he walks over. You sit across from him on the end of the bed, hands in your lap as you try desperately to think of what to say. What does one converse about with their fake fiance? "What happened?" He asks, finally breaking the silence. "I...I just was feeling sick so I originally said I'd wanted to rest." He shakes his head, "No, not just tonight. Even this morning, your mom rushing me to go home and rest- not even letting me say goodbye. You're lying." "I don't know what you want to hear, Jungkook," You don't mean to sound so harsh. "I want to hear the truth," He leans back, exasperated. The truth. Hm. Ironic.

"Who's Lisa, Jungkook?" You ask. You'd first asked him this question the other night after dinner, though this time, the question is really more of a statement. He sinks into the chair, "A friend." "Lie again." "I'm not lying," He looks away. "Keep lying, Jungkook. I hear it's the perfect foundation to a marriage." You cross your arms, looking away as well, letting your eyes stay on the rainy window. Maybe if you count every raindrop like sheep, you'll fall asleep and then wake up to realize this has all been one big dream. Wouldn't that be nice? To have been dreaming this whole time...to not have this giant weight on your shoulders. "Do you think these are signs from the universe?" Your voice is softer than a minute ago, more like you're talking to yourself than to him. He furrows his brows, "What?" "All of it..." You keep your eyes on the window, "Our first encounter, I literally slapped you. My dad and I got into the biggest fight we've ever had over this contract and..." "And what?" "And you never came back last night," You say, repeating your statement from when you'd first opened the door. "Y/n, I wanted to. I really did. I was just-" "Just what, Jungkook? Chopping it up with your ex-girlfriend?" "It's not like that, Y/n. I promise. She's just been having a hard time." "A hard time?" You snicker, "Jungkook, she's got you wrapped around your finger and you don't even realize it." "You don't even know anything about her," He snaps. The way he defends her...if only he'd heard what you heard. "Jungkook, you don't know her. Yesterday, I was in the bathroom and-" "You know what, I'm not gonna go back and forth discussing Lisa with you." The way he says 'you', like you're some random person. You. Maybe that's just what you are. A random person.

You look down, nodding silently. The silence between the both of you is so loud. Deafening, even. "Y/n, I- I'm trying here," He sounds almost as broken as you feel. Though you're sure the cracks run deeper for you; after all, you've sacrificed much more to be here than he has. Your entire life has been in preparation for your union with this guy, meanwhile, he's pining after the one who got away. "Yeah, I know," You clear your throat, "We don't have to pretend anymore, Jungkook." "Pretend?" He echoes, utterly confused. "Like we're friends or...whatever. Like we're anything more than two people obligated to our families. Shackled to each other by contract." "Shackled to each other...as that what we are?" His voice sounds more and more pained by the second, though it's like you're completely deaf to it. "From now on, we'll just do what we gotta do. We'll meet with our families, plan the wedding, and go through the motions. I'm sure in a year or two, Lisa will be waiting for you with open arms." Tears are beginning to form in your eyes, though you do everything in you to keep them in their place. You don't dare let them spill now. Not when you need to be your strongest. He nods, pursing his lips, "Well, alright then..." He gets out of the chair and walks past you, though as he's about to walk down the short breezeway leading to the door, he turns back to you, "I'll...see you tomorrow morning to start the arrangements for our..." His breath catches a bit. He's also determined not to break down here, "...the wedding." "Alright...see you tomorrow." You don't even look up until you hear the door finally click closed, and by that time, the tears have already begun pouring out of you- and you sit there cursing - and counting- every single water droplet on the window.

B/f/n comes stumbling in- her loud steps and giggles, an indicator of her drunkenness. She's never been one for grace when inebriated. Your back is turned to her; maybe if you're lucky, she'll assume you're asleep and try not to disturb you. "Y/n," She whispers. Maybe if you don't answer, she'll leave you alone. "Psst, Y/n. You awake?" "Mm?" "I'm back." Obviously. "How was it?" "Oh, it was amazing- I gotta tell you, this rich people stuff is just so...right for me," She sighs, "Ugh, and that Namjoon. He's really something special, isn't he?" "Yeah, totally," You try to sound normal, just sleepy enough for her to eventually stop talking. You can't bare to have a full blown conversation with her. Not after the night you've had. "You know, I honestly thought for sure you'd make an appearance at the banquet after all. I hoped you would, but then it started pouring outside so I guess it's good you didn't. Can you imagine? Getting all dolled up just to get rained on?" "Yeah, it's good I decided to stay..." "Anyway, alright. I'm gonna go to sleep. Sweet dreams," She says. "'Night," You respond, turning even further away so that she doesn't see your tear-stained face.

"Early bird gets the worm," Your mother's voice draws you out of your slumber, and you blink a few times. "What- how did you even get in here?" "Mmm..." B/f/n groans from right next to you. "One of the perks of being old family friends with the hotel owner," Your mom says smugly. Violation of privacy, you're sure, but who's going tell your mom that? She goes over to the black-out curtains and throws them open; the harsh sunlight is a reminder of the day ahead. "Mom, what are you doing?" You grab your pillow and press it down tightly against your face, wanting to block out the light. "Get up now. Both of you," She lightly shoves B/f/n's foot, which is hanging off the end of the bed, "We're meeting the Jeons in an hour and a half for breakfast. I will not be late on account of your laziness and your...hangover," She says, a disdainful look on her face at B/f/n's disheveled hair and makeup-stained face. Good Lord, she must've been really drunk last night- she didn't even get ready for bed; she slept in her undergarments, her dress haphazardly tossed onto the seat...the seat where Jungkook sat last. You shake your head, trying to get the image of him out. You don't want to spend a second more thinking about him than you have to.

You both drag your feet around the room, lazily getting ready; you throw on a pair of light blue jeans and a nice sweater, adorning yourself with a nice simple silver necklace and small silver hoops. You can't be bothered with frivolous decoration; not when your heart is in shambles. B/f/n, on the other hand, has scrutinized every single piece of her breakfast outfit, as she hasn't shut up about Namjoon all morning. "Y/n...you okay?" Her questions comes as a bit of a surprise, "Yeah, why?" "You just seem really quiet this morning," She shrugs. "Oh, yeah- my head's just hurting a little bit, that's why." "Oh right, the concussion," She says, leaning into the mirror to put on her last bit of lipstick before you all leave together. "Yeah, the concussion." Good timing of that concussion; you might not have known what other excuse to use, otherwise.

"F/n," Mr.Jeon greets your dad with a bow and a warm hug, and Mrs.Jeon follows suit with your mother, and then with you. Jungkook tries to smile, though you try to look at him very minimally. Of course, you're careful to keep your tone polite and cordial. No use in making a fuss in front of your parents. Everyone sits down, including B/f/n and Namjoon who are sat next to each other, leaving just you and Jungkook to take your spots. You clear your throat as you both settle into your spots. You're sat so close, you can feel his body warmth.

"We're so happy you're all here," Mrs.Jeon says. "Ugh, us too. We've wanted to visit for so long and just haven't had the chance to." "Well, what better time than the present, right? Especially now that our two kids are entering into the most holy covenant," Mr.Jeon cuts in, throwing his heavy arm on Jungkook's shoulder. Jungkook is taller than both his parents, but he always manages to look so much smaller than them. "Of couse- we're so happy for you two," Your dad says, looking over at you. You completely avoid eye-contact with everyone, opting to bow instead. Jungkook does the same. "Now, let's talk wedding!" "Oh yes- so, I was thinking of an elegant forest theme. Maybe like uhm- what was that movie, honey? The one with the monsters?" Your mom asks, turning in your direction. "Twilight." "Yes! That's the one- have you seen that movie?" "No, I don't think I have," Mrs.Jeon responds. "Oh it's really good, we'll make time. Anyway, there's this wedding scene-" They go on about the planning, and then it's like everyone goes off into their own world; your fathers, B/f/n and Namjoon, and then there's just the two of you. It so often happens this way. The world just dances in circles around you and you both just have to sit there and wait for the spinning to stop.

"How...how are you?" Jungkook asks, palms already sweating. You make him nervous. "I'm fine, thank you. Did you...get home alright?" "Yeah. Well, it was raining pretty hard so I just crashed in one of the suites." "Oh, right..." You take a sip of your water. "I'm sorry about how things went last night, Y/n. And about the night of the party-" "It's okay, Jungkook. Really. Nothing to be sorry about," You finally look at him- really really look at him- and you notice the bags under his eyes. The tired expression on his face. Even so, he's so handsome... "We just gotta get through this, okay?" You say before going back to avoiding his eyes again. "Alright..." "Okay, yeah I think four weeks should be good." "Me too- might be a tight schedule from now until then but the sooner the better right?" Mrs.Jeon says in agreement with your mother. You and Jungkook snap your heads in their direction. Only a month? So soon? "Will that be enough time?" You ask. "Oh, of course. We'll have it here at the hotel," She reassures, "Only our closest family and friends on both sides and a nice, intimate reception." You and Jungkook both exchange a quick glance. "That's...soon." Jungkook breathes. "Well, honey- no one here is getting any younger, so." It's interesting how this is supposed to be yours and Jungkook's wedding, but no one has even asked for a single opinion from either of you. Not a color request, favorite flower, flavor of cake... Though maybe that's better- it'll make it easier to...dissociate from it all. "What are we even doing here?" Jungkook mutters, though as per usual, you're the only one to notice.

"Okay, so the groomsmen will be Seokjin, Taehyung, Hoseok, Yoongi, and...Felix," Mrs.Jeon sips on her coffee, eyes glued to a small notebook she's showing your mom, "Do you have your bridesmaids in mind?" She asks you. You shruh, "Uh yeah, B/f/n is my maid of honor and a few friends from college will be my court- although, we don't have a fifth." "Oh, that won't do..." She mutters, deep in thought, "Aha! Jungkook, why don't you ask Lisa to fill the spot?" Jungkook looks at you and then back at his mom. You're much too stunned at that suggestion to even react- surely she knows Jungkook snd Lisa were together at one point, right? And if she does, why suggest her? Of all people? "Uh, no. I don't think that's a good idea- she doesn't even know Y/n." "No, but she knows you. Come on, she's your best friend- I'm sure she wouldn't mind." "Seriously mom, I'll just remove Felix. It's not a problem, he'll understand." "Jungkook, don't be ridiculous. Just ask Lisa." "But mom-" "Jungkook." Her stern tone makes both you and Jungkook shrink. This is your nightmare.

You're practically catatonic for the rest of breakfast; your mind far removed from your present suffering. In fact, B/f/n has to tap you on your shoulder for you to even realize everyone is standing and ready to go. You feel trapped. Utterly and hopelessly stuck, and all you can do is just wait for it to pass. All of it. "Thank you so much for breakfast, it was lovely," Your mom says, hugging Mrs.Jeon. Your fathers shake hands and B/f/n gives Namjoon a "casual" hug. While they all say their goodbyes, Jungkook steps closer to you. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I'll try to talk her out of picking Lisa. I'll- I'll look for someone else." "Don't bother," You say, your voice like a flat line. "What? Why?" "Because none of it matters anyway." "What are you talking about, of course it matters," He says, looking into your eyes and trying so hard to connect with you- but you're not here. You're somewhere else- somewhere so deep within yourself that nothing can bring you out. "Good bye, Jungkook."

You're quiet on the ride home, though no one seems to notice. When you get up to the room, all you have the strength to do is throw your clothes on the floor and crawl into bed. You've felt a sort of...stuckness all your life; unable to really move forward or backward- but right now, you feel the most stuck that you've felt in years. Barely able breath. How will you be able to pull this off? You've only just truly realized that you're marrying someone you know nothing about...

How do you know he won't just go running around behind your back at the drop of Lisa's hat? Could you really handle that? "Y/n..." B/f/n's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn to look at her, "Hm?" "What's going on?" "With...what?" "You've been weird since we saw you at the hospital yesterday. I thought it was because you were just tired or something but I don't think that's the case anymore." "I-I don't think I know what you mean." "Y/n, come on. Just tell me. I came all the way here for you. I wanna help." You chew your bottom lip for a long while, though she doesn't waver; she leans back on the dresser that thee TV is sitting on. She's never been one to back down. "The other night at his birthday party...I couldn't find him. I waited for a long time and...there's this girl. Her name is Lisa- I'd noticed her picture on his Instagram during my first night here in Seoul. At the time I didn't really care- I was curious to know more but I didn't wanna ask because it was a pretty old picture. When we went to dinner, I asked him about her and he got all weird and said she was just a friend. And then at the party, I just asked Namjoon flat out." "And...?" "He's been in love with her for years and they dated for a while...and she dumped him." "She dumped him? Oh God," She lightly slaps her forehead. You both know exactly what that could mean. Your eyes start to water, "Yeah...apparently he wasn't mature enough for her, so she dumped him. But the problem is that later on, I went to the bathroom and I heard her and her friend talking about the whole situation. She said that she didn't care about our arrangement and that she could have him whenever she wanted after he inherits the company." "That bitch," She hisses, "Why didn't you tell him?" "I was going to but then I saw him dancing with her. I saw them with my own two eyes- she was laughing all hard and they looked like- like..." You look down, "Like a real couple."

"And then last night after you left, I got ready and was gonna go to the banquet but then he came and I let him in and... I tried to tell him about Lisa but he just defended her. He doesn't want to hear what I have to say about her..." The tears are gently dropping from your eyes now, and you don't even try to wipe them, "So, I told him that we'd just act like what we are- business partners and nothing more. Clearly that's what he wants anyway. His heart is still with her and it was completely pointless and stupid of me to think otherwise." "Y/n..." B/f/n's voice is soft as she walks over to sit next to you, "I'm so sorry..." The softness in her voice coaxes for your tears to finally spill over. "What are you gonna do?" "What can I do? It's clear that all that's expected of me is to just sit there and let everyone else decide for me and him." "It did seem like everyone was just making decisions..." She agrees. "Yup..." You sit in silence for a moment, just mulling over those odd moments at dinner.

You look around the room: items of clothing litter the floor of your room, the desk on the opposite wall is full of papers from when you were going over the contract... "I need some air." "Okay, want me to open the window?" "No, I mean- I mean I need to go home." "...home? Like HOME home?" "Yes. I need to get out of here. It's too much." "Oh- Okay, I suppose I can get myself packed up again so we can leave tonight-" "No, don't be silly. I can go back alone." "Y/n, come on it's not a big deal. I wanna be there for you-" "B/f/n, no. You came here to have a good time and I want you to enjoy your time." "But how can I enjoy my time without you?" She asks, her face contorting into a pout. "Oh, I can think of quite a few ways," You smirk, causing her to blush. "What are you implying, Ms.L/n?" "Oh come on...Namjoon's pretty handsome, isn't he?" "I hadn't really noticed," She lies, a smile spreading across her face. "Whatever," You chuckle, though it quickly fades as you mentally return to the original subject, "I just need air..."

"It's only for two weeks," You say, leaning back in your chair. "But I don't understand why, Y/n," Your mom says exasperatedly, "We only just got here." "You can't just leave us and B/f/n twiddling our thumbs here in Seoul while you're off doing God-knows-what," Your dad says sternly. You let out a deep breath, "Oh trust me, there will be no sitting around- mom and Mrs.Jeon are already going at top speed planning everything. You hardly even need me here- and B/f/n knows already and she's supportive of my decision. She'll be perfectly fine." Your dad remains in pensive silence, though your mom continues in protest, "You're the bride, for crying out loud. How can we plan it without you?" "I'm sure you'll manage," You say with an eyeroll. At this point, your mom's just finding reasons for you not to go. "Y/n-" "Mom...You know I wouldn't be doing any of this if it weren't because I really need it. I need to clear my head, I need to get myself mentally prepared." "Mentally prepared for what!?" "M/n," Your dad gently rests his hand on her shoulder, "Honey..." Immediately, your mom is quiet. Your dad turns to you, "If you feel like this is something you really need to do then...go. We'll be here." Instantly, it was like a weight lifted off of your shoulders. "We'll tell the Jeons at dinner tonight. You get two weeks and that's it." "Yes, of course." You lean over and hug your dad, "Thank you."

You sit anxiously at the dinner table, looking around at everyone sat inside the restaurant- it's the only way to keep yourself from staring at the doorway. You'd all arrived to the restaurant a bit earlier than the Jeons. Both your parents are on their phones, checking emails, you assume. B/f/n leans over, "You okay?" She's always been able to read you like a book....or maybe you've just always been bad at hiding how you feel. You nod, "Yeah...I just need to get it over with." A few minutes go by (though, of course, it feels like an eternity), and the Jeons finally arrive. "So sorry we're late," Mrs.Jeon says with a bow. "Oh, don't worry about it." The parents all greet each other, and finally, you get a full look at Jungkook... even in your anger, he somehow manages to make your heart flutter.

Food and drinks have been served and everyone is in conversation again, much like they'd been at breakfast. Jungkook sits there quietly, occasionally bringing his glass of wine up to his lips to take a sip, his fork stabbing into bits of food that never actually gets eaten. He's mentally absent and you can't blame him, as you're feeling quite the same way. Or at least, you would be if you weren't so nervous about bringing up your trip. You glance at B/f/n, who looks back at you, giving you a soft and reassuring smile. Alright, it's now or never.

"Uhm, I have something I'd like to share with the table," You pipe up. Everyone immediately stops their conversations to give you the floor, including Jungkook, who is looking at you for the first time tonight. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you practically feel your face burning under Jungkook's gaze. You clear your throat, "So, I have some things I need to wrap up back at home and with the wedding so close, I think it's best to go back and take care of that and then come back in time for...everything." The silence remains as Jungkook's parents exchange glances between themselves and your parents. Jungkook, however, stays staring at you. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, but he definitely doesn't look pleased. "But there's...so much that needs to be done," Mrs.Jeon says gently, clearly quite confused. "I know but you and my mom seem to have everything pretty much covered. I trust you both to do a fine job." "But the fittings for the dress," She adds. You nod, "I can send my measurements to you and come back to do the alterations later."

"Jungkook?" Mrs.Jeon turns to her son, who has yet to say a single word. "She says she's got things to do, let her do it," He says dryly. Mr.Jeon furrows his brows at him, clearly annoyed by his callousness. "Look, it's just a short trip. Everything's fine, Jungkook and I are fine," You lie, though they seem to buy it, "and we'll continue to be fine. When I come back, we'll have the wedding and it's smooth sailing from there." "Well, alright then. We'll take care of everything," Mrs.Jeon smiles, lifting her glass. You pick yours up and tilt it toward her, "I know you will."

From there, the conversation picks back up and it's as though you'd said nothing at all. Before you know it, dinner's over and you're all on your way out the door and on your way home...well, not home...not yet.

When you and B/f/n get back to the room, you both debrief for a bit as you get ready for bed, peeling and cleansing away the day from your skin- if only there was a similar process for the mind. Jungkook didn't say anything to you after dinner, not even a goodbye, and maybe that's for the best. No need to make anything more difficult and once you're back home, you'll find some clarity about the situation.

You try closing your eyes but you can't will yourself to sleep. Soft moonlight spills in through the open curtain, drawing a series of straight lines across the walls- the frames of the tall windows to the balcony. If it weren't for B/f/n's gentle breaths, you'd swear you were completely alone right now...not just in this room but even in the whole world. Your mind can't even conceive people existing beyond these four walls. Not tonight.

That is, until you hear your phone softly vibrate against the nightstand. You squint your eyes against the harsh light, quickly unlocking it when you realize it's a text from Jungkook.

𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔: 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛. 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔.

You're frozen for a minute, your eyes stuck on the text message as you debate on whether or not to go. Why should you? He said absolutely nothing at dinner and now he wants to talk so he expects you to just come to him? Screw him.

You slowly walk into the bar, your mind in complete opposition to the fact that your body walked you down here to meet up with Jungkook. Your heart is beating and your legs feel like Jell-O as you walk over to where you see him sitting. He's leaned back in his seat, staring at the glass in his hand as he whirls the contents around and around gently. "Hey," You say, your voice small and mousey. You wish you could act nonchalant but you really just don't have the energy to keep masking your feelings.

"Hey," He says, his voice equally small. You sit down next to him and motion for the bartender to get you the same as Jungkook. Silence lingers in the air between you for a few more minutes, though it's not exactly awkward. It's more of a...pensive silence. Neither of you knows what to say, you suppose. Best to stay quiet until you've sorted yourself out.

"Why did you come down?" He finally breaks the silence. You furrow your eyebrows, "What?" "You heard me. Why did you come down?" "Because you asked me to?" You say, annoyed at his tone. "That's it? That's the only reason?" "Is there something else you want to hear?" You look at him, crossing your arms over your body. He shakes his head, "No. Just curious..." "Jungkook, what is this? Why'd you ask me to come?" "Because I wanted to see you, Y/n."

His answer makes your cheeks heat up and you quickly turn your attention to the glass that the bartender just sat down in front of you. Another long silence, though this time, your mind is racing for what to say, "Well, I'm here." "Not for long." "Jungook, I don't really understand you...I don't get what game you're playing." "Game? What game?" "At first, you're a complete asshole to me, then you say you're willing to give this a chance, then you're defending this girl who, by the way, was saying some really nasty things about you on your birthday. Are you still in love with her? Because I'd like to know about if you are." "I'm not..." "Very convincing," You roll your eyes, "I don't even know why I'm here if you're not gonna be honest with me." You abruptly hop off the bar stool and start walking out. This was a mistake.

As you've only just made your way out of the bar room, you feel a hand wrap around your bicep, gently pulling you back, "Y/n." You turn to see Jungkook there, a solemn expression on his face as he begs, "Don't go." "Jungkook, all I want is the truth. I'm...I'm still going to marry you, regardless of what the truth is. I'll- I'll still go through with it...all of it. I just don't want to be the only one in the dark about how you feel." He shakes his head, "There's nothing to tell, Y/n. All of it is done and over with. Please believe me." He lets go of your arm and instead, reaches for your hand. His gentle grasp makes you your body relax a bit, "I don't want you to go." You don't acknowledge what he's just said. You didn't even take a single sip of your drink at the bar and yet, you feel as though your head is spinning. Emotions are whirling in your heart and when you notice more people passing by the both of you to get inside the bar, all you can think about is how much you just want to get out of the hallway. "Can we talk somewhere more private, please?" "Alright," He says, immediately looking left to right as he thinks of where to go. "Come on," He says, pulling you gently behind him and leading you into the elevator.

The elevator ride is quiet, the both of you stuck in thought- the only sound is the loud ding of the elevator with every passing floor. Finally, the doors open up and he takes you down the hall and around the corner to a room. "Are you okay if we talk in here?" He asks right before sliding the key card in. You nod, "Yeah, that's fine." He swipes the card and opens it up to a big room- much bigger than yours. It's decorated similarly to yours, though it has more pieces of furniture, as well as a small kitchenette and a bar of its own. "Wow...this is nice." "Yeah, we don't really rent this one out since it's a little outdated. I'm the only one who uses this place regularly," He says, tossing the key card onto the counter. He motions for you to sit on the small couch in the living room area, and then he walks over to the bar, "Beer?" "Sure." He walks back to you, handing you the chilled bottle with the cap already off and sits down, leaving just around two feet between the both of you.

You take a sip of your beer, grimacing slightly at the pissy taste. You've never been a beer person but you need something to calm your nerves. "I'm scared too, you know..." He says in a low voice. "Of...what?" "A lot of things...what if we get married and you regret it? What if I screw this all up and it all goes to shit. No marriage, no company, nothing left..." "I'll be there with you. You don't need to carry it all on your shouldrs." "In theory, I know you're right. I know I don't have to...but I've been living with this for years. That's why I was initially so resistant to all of this," He says, motioning to you and himself, "I was in a loop of self-sabotage for so long...it's hard to embrace a good thing." "I can understand that...but if you don't break that loop, how is anyone gonna be able to come in?" "Some times I feel like I'm too ruined to not mess it up again later." "Well, let's say you do screw up again, I don't think you could screw things up that badly." He snorts, "I already almost have a few times...don't have too much faith in me." "You talking about the rehab?" You ask. He tilts his head at you, momentarily stuck on the fact that you knew about that, "Ah, I see Namjoon's been filling you in." He nods bitterly, taking a swig of his beer. "Only because you wouldn't." "Y/n, that's not exactly small talk." "I don't want small talk..." You're not sure what comes over you to cause you to do this, but you reach over and lift his head up so that he's fully looking at you, "I want to know the man I'm marrying."

For a moment, you both sit there staring at each other. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and you notice his chest heaving slightly, his breathing picking up as well. In this moment, you know you both feel it. That thick tension that's been lingering in the air from the moment you first looked at each other- anger, curiosity, bitterness, longing- it's here in this room right now. Every logical thought your mind would normally throw at you to stop you from indulging, is completely crushed under this desire...the desire to know one another fully. Somehow, the two-foot space has closed to an inch. So close, you can feel the heat radiating off of his face and onto yours; his eyes almost completely closed. He's ready...are you?

A/N: Sorry that this installment took so incredibly long. I had a lot going on in my personal life so this story sat untouched in my drafts for a long time. Hope you all enjoy! And don't be shy, send me what you wanna see happen with Jungkook + Y/n later on in our story <3

#bts #jungkook #suga #jin #namjoon #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook x reader #jimin #kookie #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts angst

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