#Need to convince the husband to let me cut this bastard down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maidragoste · 1 year

Text

Bastard

Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra)

Summary: Aelor finds out that you are not his biological mother.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

part of the universe of "the queen and her husbands" but can be read independently

Masterlist Serie

It was no secret that Aemond had days when he felt uncomfortable seeing Aelor because he reminded him of Alys Rivers. Still, he always tried to be a good father, one better than Viserys. That's why when he just saw his son enter his chambers with a red face and full of tears he was already ready to cut off the head of whoever he had hurt his son. But that had to wait because now he had to deal with reassuring his child.

"Come here"

Another time Aelor would stay where he was and try to calm himself down. He wanted to show his father that he was already a big boy, but right now all he wanted was to be in his arms and be comforted so he ran to Aemond and let him sit on his lap.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" Aemond asked as he stroked the boy's back in circles.

"Baelon called me a bastard" replied his son, still crying but at least he didn't seem as agitated as before.

Well, he forgets the murder part because Aemond can't kill his other son but he would definitely punish him for bothering his brother. Though he could already imagine Baelon telling him that he couldn't punish him for telling the truth. It didn't matter that you and Aegon legitimized the boy to the rest of the world, he would always be a bastard.

It was not your intention to lie to Aelor. They never told him that you were his mother, but you didn't deny it when he first called you Muña. He was just copying his siblings and you didn't feel the need to correct him because for you he was another son.

"He also said that Muña is not my mother," he said with a trembling voice "Is it true?" Aelor asked devastated because deep down he already knew the answer. Baelon was right to point out that he didn't look like any of his family. All of his siblings had platinum or blonde hair while he had brown curls. Aemon wanted to make him feel better by telling him that their grandmother, Alicent, also had dark hair but Aelor wasn't a fool. His hair was nothing like their grandmother's.

"Your brother is wrong" Aemond replied instantly. It felt disrespectful for someone to say that because even though you didn't give birth to Aelor, you were the one who took him in first, you were the one who, upon learning of his illness, flew to Harrenhal and took care of him as if he were another one of your children, you were the one who convinced him to bring the child to live with you, you raised him as if he were yours so you were his mother "You were born of another woman" when he saw that his son was about to interrupt him he continued speaking "But your Muña will always be your muña. She loves you more than anything just like she loves your brothers. It doesn't matter that you were not born to her, you are as much her son as your brothers are"

"Your kepa is right," you said from the door, drawing the attention of both. You had found out what happened because Aemon went looking for you worried because he couldn't find Aelor. You were furious when you heard that Baelon had called his brother a bastard, you wanted to question him and find out where he had heard that word from and why he said it to his brother, but you were too worried about Aelor's reaction. You had always feared that once he learned the truth of his parentage, he would hate Aemond, Aegon, and you for killing his birth mother. "You weren't born of me" you started walking towards them "But that doesn't make me love you less than your brothers. You will always be my son" you affirmed as you gently caressed his face.

"You promise?" the boy asked, still not sure. Yesterday Baelon had no problem playing with him and today he seemed to hate him. Grandma had days when she seemed to love him and others when she barely tolerated him. The same with his uncle Egg from him, he sometimes stared at him with deep sadness. What if one day they tell you something and make you stop loving it?

"I promise" you kissed his forehead "How could I stop loving you when you're one of the best huggers around?" you said managing to make Aelor smile. You snatched it from your husband's lap and started tickling him causing the room to fill with the boy's outrageous laughter. You were sure anyone could hear it in the hallways but you didn't care. You just wanted your son to forget about the bad moment that happened.

Aemond looked at them with a smile. He would never stop being grateful to the gods for letting him survive the battle at Eyes God and he would never get tired of seeing you with their children. No matter what the interaction, you could be singing to them, reading to them, playing with them, or, like now, comforting your child. Every time he witnessed the bond between you and the children he always warmed his heart.

"Kepa, help," Aelor asked between laughs.

"I'm sorry, son. But I have a council meeting," Aemond said, drawing your attention.

"Wait, do we have a council meeting?" you stopped tickling your son and put him down instantly, worried that you had forgotten your duty "Aemond!" your husband had taken advantage of your moment of distraction to start tickling you and your son soon joined the attack "You liar" you complain between laughs.

"I'm sorry, my dear wife. But I couldn't let you continue torturing our son."

tag list: @hannaeditzs @multi-fandoms-stuff @zverea @m1tzifa1ry

@solacestyles @lilithskywalker @satish @justsumtuffstuff @crispmarshmallow @inmyowndefender @afro-hispwriter

@green-lxght @roroswhiterose @libdarkheart @chevelledahuman

@versaillesdrmngs @helloitsshitzulover @ladybug0095 @ietss

@serendippindots @ultraviollett @akinatrix @papery-maniac @merovingianprincess @hnybitches @m1ndbrand @giulia2372

@blubird592 @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @bajadotcom @woodandwaxwings @yor72 @mendes-bae

@lj127 @sustisama @imjustboredso @remuslupinwifee @sarcasticking9 @melllinaa @tswiftsthings

@404slayer404 @letsloveimagines @zillahvathek @alexandra-001

@hnybitches @stitchattacks @scarlettish @damienmorton

@minttea07 @shanias-world @esposadomd @msmarvelknight

@littlebatsimagines @chiyausu @stargaryenx @rainerax @hydrationqueensworld @champomiel @tempt-ress @weepingwitchofthewest @bellameshipper

If you want to be part of my taglist

2K notes · View notes

stories-and-chaos · 2 months

Text

Shrike: Drinks with Mimzy

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]

[One shot, word count 1587. Cw: aphobia, alcoholism, cursing]

——————

The day after Lucifer’s visit, you went hunting. Not for souls or deals. Or…well one soul and in particular. And you didn’t intend to make a deal with this one. It took some time, checking various bars and clubs. You didn’t know which ones she was likely to frequent nowadays; being an Overlord didn’t give you much chance to go bar hopping with girlfriends.

So it wasn’t until early evening that you found her. Sitting at the bar, clearly tipsy, nursing another glass of whiskey, and bitching to the clearly annoyed bartender was Mimzy. You watched her finish her latest glass. “Gimme another one a these sugar.”

“Make that two, cher.” You came up next to Mimzy and slid a bill to the bartender. He looked even more annoyed at the idea of there being two whiny bitches at his bar but he got your drinks. “Thanks cher,” you said with a smile.

Mimzy glared at you. “Ugh, the fuck do you want?” It didn’t stop her from grabbing the drink you paid for.

“What, I can’t buy my friend a drink or five?” You expected hostility but damn. This seemed excessive. Fortunately you knew the way into her good graces: free drinks.

“Friends?!” she growled. “You come here saying we’re ‘friends’ after what your husband just pulled on me?!”

You sipped your whiskey, doing your best to let her fury wash over you. “From what I saw, Alastor pulled you out of yet another situation, and told you to take off because your problem trashed the place.”

“Like those sharks made much of a difference to that tacky joint. If anything I did you bastards a favor, free demolition.” She laughed nastily and finished her drink. You caught the bartender’s attention and nodded to Mimzy. You slid him another bill as he supplied her with another glass; it was high enough denomination to cover whatever she’d had already.

“Maybe you have a point, cher.” Not really, but you didn’t want her to close you out yet. You needed her less hostile, at least for now. “Here, let me treat you today Mimzy. Make it up to you.”

“Oh you know just how to butter me up doll.” The curvaceous blonde gladly accepted. If she owed 50 grand to loan sharks, doubtless she had tabs at every place in the city that sold alcohol. Which made up the majority of businesses in Hell.

You drank sparingly, just enough so she felt you were having a grand time together. You had the bartender keep supplying her refills; he seemed in a better mood now that someone else was dealing with the sloshed demon.

You let her bitch about everything in her afterlife and responded with soothing noises. In the end, you wanted to know how much shit she was in. This was the first time Alastor had sent her packing; you weren’t sure how she would react. You hadn’t missed the pink mark on her back on her shoulder blade. It hadn’t been there the last time you’d seen your old colleague.

Once she paused in her rambling, you asked about the mark. “I never expected you to get a tattoo, cher. What convinced you?”

The drinks and your apparent sympathy were enough to keep her talking, especially if it was something else to bitch about. “Ugh, that. Had to get it for work. One of the club owners works for someone that works for someone that works for one a’ the Sins. Greed’s head honcho.” She sipped her drink, starting to slow down as she got drunker. “The Sin bastard likes to mark any Sinners working for him, like some horny creep.” She downed the rest of her current whiskey.

“‘Course if you and your beau were properly grateful. I wouldn’t be dealing with this shit.” She pointed at you, empty glass in hand, her eyes looking unfocused and angry. The bartender moved to give her another drink but you made a cutting motion. This was the first time you heard anything of this.

“Grateful for what?” You asked, unable to help yourself. You honestly couldn’t remember what she could be talking about.

She looked at you, black and pink eyes wavering. “Fucking, of course!” You could only tilt your head. “Jesus Christ, it’s been a century and you’re still clueless? It ain’t cute anymore dollface.” Mimzy set her glass down harshly. “Sex, Y/N. S. E. X. If me and the gals hadn’t said anything, you and Alastor woulda never figured it out. You’d probably still be frigid little virgins in Hell.”

Your jaw dropped as you felt a cold spike in your core. You actually had to look down to make sure you hadn’t been stabbed. No, it was just words from someone you’d still thought of fondly. The alcohol didn’t excuse Mimzy; if anything it made her more honest.

Has she always felt like that? No… you remembered her saying she thought you and Alastor were good together. That she wanted you both to be happy. Somewhere in all those decades between then and now, things changed.

She was smirking as you processed all this, glad that she managed to hit you where it hurt evidently. In the way only people who are hurting can do, she kept pushing. But she didn’t realize what exactly hurt you. “You’re probably both terrible in bed too. Lemme guess, you just lay there while he tries to remember where to stick it?” Mimzy kept going as you stayed silent.

As her insults grew, the betrayal of a friend gave way to comedic disbelief. You started chuckling, then you were outright laughing, pounding your taloned fist on the counter. It was a good thing you had finished your drink because all the glasses around you jumped.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Your laughter finally got her stream of rudeness to stop. The indignant look on Mimzy's face just made you laugh harder, your feet kicking in glee.

“Oh, damn, I’m gonna pee myself. Fucking Hell Mimzy! Oh fuck, I needed that laugh.” You wheezed and took deep breaths until you could look at her reddened face without laughing. “Cher, you got one thing right; I still don’t understand all this nonsense about sex. Alastor still doesn’t either.

But that’s never mattered. I’ll never understand why you people think that’s so important to us. Maybe we wouldn’t have ever done it. I doubt that but we also would never have cared. You and so many others are so obsessed with sex that you can’t even imagine a relationship without it! It would be sad if it wasn’t so hilarious.”

Mimzy blinked at you, confusion, anger, and drunkenness warring in her expression. “Even now, you don’t get it! Cher, you insulting us about sex didn’t hurt. You’re a friend and my friend thinking I was stupid hurt.”

You ran your hand down your face. “Mimzy, cher, I’m just going to back up my darling here. If you want to redeem yourself, you’re welcome at the hotel. But don’t come calling otherwise. Especially if what’s his name, Mammon? The Greed Sin, comes after you. We’ll gift wrap you for him before we tussle with a Deadly Sin.”

Pulling the bartender aside, you paid for her outstanding tab, along with tonight’s drinks and a generous tip. “I paid your tab here, so you can call that payment for that talk years ago. Find me when you decide to not be a bitch.” You tucked one of your feathers into her headband. “Au revoir cher.”

Mimzy snatched the feather out and crushed it in her hands. “I don’t need you or him. I don’t need your hotel! I hope those angels kill all of you next Extermination Day, bitch!”

Back at the hotel, Alastor was in the parlor, listening to Charlie’s plans for her visit to Heaven. “Soooooo, how did it go?” he asked in a sing-song tone once he spotted you. You’d told him your plan to find Mimzy before leaving.

“As well as could be expected. I don’t think she’ll bother us anymore. I told her we’d gift wrap her for whoever came looking if she tried something like yesterday again.”

“Hmm, but that would be such a waste of good gift wrap.”

Later that night, in your suite, you went into more detail about your conversation. You were on Alastor’s lap, venting your hurt and tears. “I know she’s gotten worse in Hell, that she’s been using you, but I thought she was still our friend.” He let you get it all out, handkerchief at the ready when you were.

“I thought so as well, cher,” he said quietly. “I hate to admit it but Husk pointed it out to me. We can’t have her interfering though.”

“No,” you said simply, drying your eyes.

Alastor looked down at you, that sharp edged smile just a bit softer than usual. “I think I know what can help you for now, my dear.” With that he stood you both up and started humming, a question in his eyes. Your voice felt a bit hoarse from crying but you hummed along, practice making you harmonize. Then he swept you into a dance.

After a few numbers, you felt up to singing. The two of you danced until you were tired (Alastor probably could have kept going but he didn’t have an emotionally stressful day). That night you fell asleep in his arms, glad you’d married someone that understood you like he did.

——————

A/N: this is more than a little self indulgent on my part. My frustrations with aphobes knows no bounds. Kinda prompted after discussion with a therapist concerning aphobia and the nonsense acespec people deal with. Never forget how valid you are. 💜🤍🩶🖤 💚🤍🩶🖤 Cheers darlings!

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin alastor #hazbin mimzy #alastor #alastor x reader #asexual alastor #asexual reader #asexual #acespec #ace representation #aphobia #aphobes fuck off #aroace

221 notes · View notes

mari-the-bimbo · 2 years

Note

hi mari !! 💗💗 i'm OBSESSED with all of ur series, but my current favorite is dormmate sukuna 😙😙

(felt the need to add this meme)

how would y/n react if sukuna suddenly came home upset or if he had a bad day?? the "dorm mate sukuna: after a rough day" one was so cute but i wonder what would happen if the situation was reversed 😂

have a good day! you're literally my favorite writer in this app ever since i discovered your ex!husband gojo series 🥺💗💗

Dorm mate Sukuna: his bad day

A/N: Lmaooo the picture is KILLING ME 😭 Anyways dorm mate Sukuna content twice in a row? Who am I?

One thing about your dorm mate Sukuna is you’ll know when he’s had a bad day.

His grumbling around the dorm, the sudden binge on cigarettes, complaints from neighbours that he’s left beaten up people at the entrance, randomly kicking poor Yuuji when he remembers the boy exists 😔

“Hey ‘kuna” you greet, but you say no more as you brush past him in the kitchen, not wanting to provoke him.

“Shut up” he mumbles under his breath, as he blows smoke from his cigarette out the window sombrely.

You sigh, knowing his bad mood wasn’t going to disappear unless you gave him the attention he secretly wanted.

As you approach the large man, you hugged him from behind, wrapping your arms around his sturdy stomach.

The strong, mean dorm mate refuses to turn around, but you smile as you felt him melt in your embrace. The tsundere was slowly giving in.

“Bad day?” You ask.

“Maybe”

“Then maybe I can fix that with some.. tickles!”

“I’ll kill you” he deadpans, and you giggle at his quick response.

And Sukuna can’t help but thank his lucky stars you can’t see the smile growing on his face at the sounds of your laughter.

“You’re really not ticklish?” You ask, as you twist your head to see his face.

“No” he answers as he puts his cigarette out.

You squint your eyes at his claim, convinced he was lying, but when you smugly attacked him with a tickle, you were taken aback when he had no response.

“Wh- brat are you trying to tickle me?” He asks casually as he finally turns around to face you, with his muscular veiny arms crossed over his broad chest as you looks down at you amusedly.

“Y-you’re you’re seriously not ticklish?!” You say with panic in your big eyes as you look up at your invincible dorm mate.

“No, you dumbass” he replies as he flicks your forehead.

“Ow! ‘Kuna!”

You grumble to yourself for a second as you hold your forehead, trying to scheme a new way to cheer him up.

“Hmmm I’m going to make some pasta! You want chicken pasta?” You say as you pull out a pan from the cupboard, knowing he loved it when you cooked for him.

You look up when you received no response from the dorm mate, only to see his red eyes staring at you.

“Hello? Sukuna? You want chicken pasta? It’s either that or meatball pasta because I refuse to make beer pasta like you once forced me to! And-“ your sentence was cut off by the much taller man suddenly placing a hand on your head.

“You’re cute sometimes” he grumbles, as he rubs your head affectionately. “You trying to cheer me up little one?” He asks.

You nod slowly, causing him to chuckle at you. “Well if you really want to cheer me up, order some takeaway”

And although you weren’t fully convinced that would cheer him up, some soft spot you had for him was eager to at least try. “Okay! let me get my phone!” You said as you ran to your room.

Sukuna couldn’t help but smile at your retreating figure, and although he still felt annoyed, something about you just made him feel a little better.

He sighed as he sat down on the kitchen chair and man spread across it, he knew he had a bad day because of those bastards across the road, but why did some part of him feel like the real reason was because of his repressed feelings for you?

‘Whatever’ he thought. It’s not like you’d ever like him back right?

Right?

2K notes · View notes

bre-meister · 4 months

Note

Hey

I hope you are doing well. Okay since you did ask. How about a short story where Claire comes back after the events from revelations 2 and Leon teases her about Neil that he was right about him all along. Just a fun little story, please?

Thanks for the kind words! So I guess this could be considered a continuation of the fic I wrote about Revelations 2. I hope I made it fluffy enough.

“You can say it, ya know.”

It’s dark in their room when she speaks. They’re in bed having finally turned in for the night after putting both of the children to bed. Isabel had been hardest to sleep in their room for the night - a habit she’d picked up while Claire was gone and had kept once she’d gotten back. Claire was loathe to take away this comfort from her daughter but it was a habit that did not need to be reinforced.

Not to mention this was the first time since she was discharged from the hospital about a month ago that she got to sleep in her own bed with her husband alone. Just the two of them. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying the comforting feeling of being held by him without another small body between them.

“Hmm?”

He seems so relaxed. One arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped around her shoulders. She’s pressed so deeply into his side that she feels the rumble in his chest before she hears it.

“I told you so. I know you’ve probably been waiting to say it. I think I’m finally ready to admit you were right about Niel.”

“I don’t know what upsets me more, the fact that you think I’d say that or the fact that I can’t really say it.”

“What do you mean?” She shifts in his arms slightly so she could better see his face. He’s looking at the ceiling when he answers.

“I was totally convinced that Niel had a thing for you and I think past experiences proved me right there.” Claire snorts but Leon continues,

“Never would have guessed he was a money hungry, egotistical bastard that would quite literally sell out all of his employees to the very same people they were fighting against.”

They’re both silent and for a moment. Claire thinks maybe he’s fallen asleep. Finally taken over by the exhaustion of the day.

“Actually, what makes me the most angry is that I didn’t see it coming. I was so preoccupied with our dumb little dick measuring contest that I never realized what he was doing.”

“None of us did and we worked with him every day.” Claire traces her hands across his chest hoping that the small patterns would offer him more comfort than her words.

“No sense in dwelling on it now.”

Her hands still. She sits up slightly so she can look down at him, pleasant suprise written on her face.

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

“I don’t know. All that time we spent not knowing where you were or if you were ok? I guess I just decided to stop worrying about things that don’t matter, that I don’t have control over. Life’s to short and we’re reminded of that everyday in our line of work.”

The arm he’d previously been using to hold her comes up to tuck a strand of her short hair behind her ears.

“I don’t want to spend all my time thinking about what I should have seen or done when it comes to that weasel,” he continues. Voice quiet and sincere in the dark,

“I’d rather think about you and our girls. All the ways I’m going to spoil you,” the hand in her had stills, fingers wrapped gently around a strand he’d been toying with.

“How beautiful you look with short hair.”

She smiles and hopes that he can see it in the dark. It’s the first time he’s directly acknowledged her new haircut. She’s shorn it off in their bathroom last week but had finally broken down yesterday and went to an actual salon to let someone fix the uneven ends.

She liked the new look and felt a small burst of appreciation that he did as well. It was a small bit of change that she could control after the island - cutting her hair. She knows Leon understands why as well. It’s one of the many things she loves about him.

“I love you,” she whispers as she settles back into the side of his body. Not wanting to speak too loudly for fear of ending this moment between them.

He plates a kiss on her hairline and returns the sentiments with his lips still on her skin.

“I don’t think I say that enough.”

“You say it everyday,” she giggles.

“Not enough.” She can feel the earnest love in his voice.

“Well, you have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

#cleon #resident evil #my writing #ask and answer #revelations 2 #cleon babies #Cleon fic

22 notes · View notes

selfproclaimedunicorn · 6 months

Note

⭐ for the director’s cut meme!

Going off of something vague 🤔. I can work with this, though! Enjoy me lore dumping my Extra Tyrells 💚💛

Ella’s eyes trailed down from his face, to his emerald green doublet, and the golden rose and ring of thorns of the line descended from one of Lord Bertrand’s bastard sons in the center of it.

- Rhaella 6: Be Not A Bed Of Roses

SO, the bastard line. When I got convinced to have her marry a Tyrell I immediately had to scramble to make it make sense within the preexisting lore for that part of asoiaf, where the lord of House Tyrell was a literal one-year-old during The Dance, so I was looking through the wiki & George mentioned Lord Bertrand Tyrell having boocoo bastard sons. My brain latched onto that, because if George is going to make note of that, I will use it. I made a whole family tree to puzzle through it (the notes on it are partially updated for the next chapter, so ages are one year off from introduction)

So what's going on there, is that Lord Bertrand’s son & heir [Gareth] just was not having sons for years, & in misogynistic desperation he petitioned King Jaehaerys to legitimize one of his half-brothers, just to have as a backup. This, naturally, went over well because Jaehaerys hated women's rights. Lord Gareth wound up having a son, so his half brother never inherited anything, but he did get to have a household & form a cadet branch of House Tyrell.

So this cadet branch resides at "Thorn Hall," & has "The Knight of Thorns" as a sort of hereditary title. And they're only on generation 3, so the fact they exist as "backup inheritors" is still pretty fresh in the minds of the main Tyrells. Like, if somebody is struggling to have heirs, a Knight Of Thorns could probably start pushing for a claim to High Garden if he was well liked enough. It's all very delicious & needlessly complex drama I did not need to add. So, y'know, my favorite thing to do (I mean, you've heard about my main asoiaf au).

Plus, it let me introduce a betrothed for Ella that's still smarter politically than her initial arc's trajectory. And he's Canon Sexy. With nothing but his slutty little waist, his sexual experience, & a bit of forethought, he can achieve his dream of being a trophy husband!

#asks #fic: sins of the father #sotf commentary #the tyrells aren't my favorite great house but i got convinced to go that route #& it makes sense in context with stuff going on with Ella's aunt

17 notes · View notes

doperascaltreecloud · 2 years

Text

Ok so here's the thing, my father in law passed away December 2020. He had a pretty large estate. My husband abruptly passed away 6 months later. We were married for almost 24 years,( he actually passed away 3days shy of our 24th wedding anniversary). We have 2 beautiful children together and a beautiful granddaughter. My husband Rodney had been battling his 2 brothers and 1 sister since his dad passed. They r the most manipulative backbiting lying theives u could ever imagine. After my husband passed last May, the night he died of a heart attack his older brother Rocky came to the hospital with his wife Angie. The entire time I was grieving over my deceased husbands body, he kept talking about the damn estate. Honestly I didn't much care about that damn estate nor anything but losing my beloved husband. Before we go, I was waiting to be alone with him to say my goodbyes, he says his. I quote, " Don't worry about your family little brother I got em ok, I promise." And patted my husband on his stomach. What a load of GARBAGE!! This bastard not only lied to my dead husband he has done everything in his power him along with the younger brother and bitch of a sister, to steal our share of the estate. Going as far as driving to my daughters house, ( she was estranged from her father n I a little over a year) more so bc of her bf than anything. She was always a little unstable mentally. She used to cut herself in highschool and had a lot of emotional issues. I was worried enough about her commiting suicide as I was bc she kept herself and our precious granddaughter away from us for a year, she never got the chance to make up with her dad before he passed. ( He wasn't sick or anything, it was totally unexpected) the guilt of it was a lot on her, then these bastards drive to her house and tries to convince her I said she was the reason her daddy died! I did NO such thing, hadn't even thought it. I blame myself if anyone for not seeing the signs better. They knew of her unstable mind. They didn't care. Took a huge risk with my daughters life over money. My husband and I were never that kind of ppl, money means little to us, as long as we have what we need, we could care less. My husband worked 20+ years welding to keep food on the table. We wanted the inheritance to give our children more stability and to afford some help for my son. He's severely autistic, non verbal and it's very difficult and stressful. We have never had any family to help or rely on so it's been pretty much just he n I since we were young. We married when I was 18 n he was 21. We pretty much just had each other, now that he's gone, it's been a terrible path I've been on. I was diagnosed with complicated grief disorder and PTSD. He started seizing and passed right in front of me. I had to watch my soulmate, my heart n soul die n I couldn't do a thing to stop it. As traumatized as I am, n those bastards didn't sway even a little, trying to steal my childrens rightful inheritance. I have even been harassed my son n I the last two times i went to our old place to grab my husbands mail. His brother Rocky had me escorted out of my own holler and threaten with trespassing! We lived there 20+ years with my husband. So now I'm battling n I'm already beat down enough mentally. I'm drowning in debt n need the money fast. Yet they don't let up. It will be a yr and a half since my father in law passed, and a yr this month since my husband passed, yet I'm still waiting n have heard nothing. No one will tell me anything either. I cannot afford an attorney bc I don't have close to 1500 to put down on one. Does anyone have advice for me please!! I could really really use it.

0 notes

peachpanlong · 3 years

Text

‘Horny Blond Twink Fucks Himself on Strap-on After Being Teased For Hours’

Naoya Zenin x reader, 18+

cw // arranged marriage (mentioned once), submissive! Naoya, pegging, exhibitionism, degrading kink, use of sex toys while driving, use of sex toys in public, untouched orgasm, public sex, overstimulation, edging, oral (m. receiving), brat taming

word count: 2.4k

this is part of the jujutsu hub collab! Thank you @suna-reversed for letting me participate ♥️

(Do not repost my work unless you have permission to do so, reblogs are fine)

Going shopping with naoya would usually be considered a task close to impossible. The constant nagging and snarky comments made you want to strangle him on multiple occasions, yet you somehow held yourself back to avoid unnecessary drama with the higher ups. After 5 unbearable months of living with him due to an arranged marriage you had found various methods of shutting that pretty mouth of his. Your favourite method including the help of your trusty friend, a vibrating cock ring.

He knew that if he opened his mouth to remark on your choice of clothing a shaky moan would follow. There is nothing more he hated than being looked down on, the fear of people glancing in his direction with a disgusted look convincing him to just stay quiet.

“I have been invited to a social event with the Zenins. I will take you shopping for a dress today so you can look half decent.” Ignoring the spiteful remark you responded.

“Okay, on the condition you wear the cock ring.” An audible scoff followed. He turned his heels to walk towards the kitchen. Filling up the portafilter with coffee grinds he let out a soft ‘fine’, refusing to let his eyes meet yours. You held back a laugh by biting down on your cheeks.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this…” you breathed out. “I’m only doing this because I know you’ll be a complete bitch to me if I don’t.” Humming in agreement you inhaled the nutty aroma coming from the coffee machine. While frothing the milk with one hand he used the other to place two mugs down onto the drip tray.

“Get a dress that hugs your figure and flaunts your tits. I want to show you off to the bastards I have to call relatives.” He places down a mug of coffee with a marshmallow next to it, just the way you like it.

You sunk the marshmallow into the coffee while continuing small talk with him.

“You’re an asshole.” He whined, groaning at the feeling of the vibrations on his cock. You let out a small chuckle knowing he’s all bark and no bite. You played around with the settings of the cock ring before settling for a low vibration that would be sure to give him some sort of attention but not enough attention to chase his sweet release.

“I will get you back for this shitty stunt, whore.” He snarled yet his words only fueled you to torture him more. With a hum leaving your lips you pulled his boxers and hakama pants up, hearing a groan come from him in response.

“You’re lucky the pants cover your erection.”

The car ride felt like hours, if not days, to the blonde man. Shaky moans fled through gritted teeth while his nails dug into the steering wheel. Your eyes were glued to his face. The way his nose scrunched when the vibrations increased was for some reason incredibly entertaining to you. When the car came to a halt in the store’s parking lot you groaned. You were having fun messing with him.

“Does this ‘flaunt my tits’, Naoya?” You said in a mocking tone while twirling in an emerald green mermaid dress that had a deep v-neck travelling down to your abdomen. All he gave you was a curt nod and a groan when his eyes focused down to your chest. You changed back into your clothes and gave the dress to naoya.

“Pay for this, I want to look around still.” He rolled his eyes and turned his body towards the cashier. The way his legs trembled from the cock ring was incredibly entertaining for you. Rather than paying attention to the dress hung up on the clothes rack your gaze landed on the way his hips twitched to find some form of friction. Your hands snuck into your pockets where the remote was being held. Without warning him, your fingers turned the dial to the maximum setting only to swiftly spin it back to the lowest setting. If he hadn’t been holding onto the cash register counter he would have fallen from the shock. A very loud moan escaped his lips as he shot an unpleasant glare in your direction.

“Sir, are you okay?” Concern was laced in the cashier’s voice. Naoya responded with a quick ‘yeah’ while giving some pathetic excuse for his accidental noises. After he had paid for the dress he grabbed at your arm. You let out a pained gasp “Ow! what the fuck, Naoya!”

His clutch on your shoulder only became harder after hearing your aggravation. The second his car door closed was the second a desperate moan left his lips.

“You’re such a bitch for doing that to me. Do you not understand your place, woman?” His shaky breathes made it difficult for you to focus on what he was saying. He looked so much better when he was malleable and timid.

He avoided any conversation with you the entire trip home, occasionally letting out a pained groan from the still vibrating cock ring. Your husband was obviously pissed off at you yet you found it difficult to care; especially when his face looked so fucked-out.

The way he angrily stormed into the house was a sight to see. If it hadn’t been for the painful grip on your arm you would’ve laughed. “I hope you’re ready to be punished. Because I’m not holding back.” His words sounded as if they were growled, a weak attempt to intimidate you. Your hands shifted down to your pockets.

“Don’t you dare-!” His words were cut short by not-so-subtle whimpers and moans. Your fingers turned the dial randomly and without a rhythm, driving him mad. Various curses left his mouth like venom.

“I’m starting to think you talk big just to get your brains fucked out. Tell me, my little slut, is that true?” If he wasn’t already busy palming himself through his pants he probably would have replied with a snarky comeback. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, “Get your pathetic hands off your cock. Do you have any manners?” He gritted his teeth and halted his movements.

“Good puppy. Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you cum.” The smile on your face was far from sincere and he knew that. It was ridiculing- degrading even. The only thing keeping him grounded was his back pressed roughly against the wall. His nose scrunched as the sound of your footsteps came closer. You reached your hand out to touch his cheek. He was such a waste of a pretty face, a shame really.

Naoya’s footsteps followed behind yours as you both walked towards the bedroom. Pushing him down across the end of the bed, you spread his legs to get between them. With your face centimetres from his cock you began to unzip his pants showing you the outline of his erection against his boxers. Your fingers looped against the elastic, letting it tug backwards. A wince left his lips as you let the band snap back against his skin. Finally indulging in his desires you pulled down the material, letting his cock out. A soft ‘please’ left his mouth when you began stroking him.

A sardonic smirk plastered your face. “Be patient, you whore.” You earned a weak excuse for a glare in response. You soon realised that it wasn’t just the cock ring that was vibrating.

“Naoya, your phone.” Letting out a disappointed sigh, you bagan to take the toy off his cock. He mimicked your expression when he saw the contact name.

“Naoya Zenin speaking, what are you calling me for?” An irritated grimace followed his words. Awkwardly, you stayed between his legs not really knowing what to do. You looked between his thighs to notice his dick was still painfully hard despite needing to take a job call.

“Do you get off to the thought of being caught acting like a slut?” A look of fret and arousal shot through his eyes when he heard your words. Your hand started to stroke the bottom of his shaft while you pressed your tongue against the slit on the head. His jaw was clamped shut as his Adam’s Apple involuntarily trembled.

“Sorry, slight migraine. Could you repeat what you said?” He uttered trying to excuse his moans. “That’s fine, sir. I was explaining how…” The man on the phone once again went into detail on his previous statement yet what he told was the farthest thing on Naoya’s mind. Your tongue traced the vein along the underside of his cock before ever-so-slowly letting it sink into your mouth. When the head hit the back of your throat you gave a harsh suck before rising your head again. You knew he hates a slow pace so that’s exactly what you gave him.

“Thank you for your time, sir. It’s greatly appreciated.” Naoya hummed in response and let out a quick ‘yeah’ before hanging up the call. “You whore! Do you know what you’ve done?” You gave a hum that only sent more vibrations to his dick. His hands tangled themselves into your hair. Eventually you began to notice the way his twitches became more frequent and the way his breath hitched. An anguished groan fell from his lips when you lifted your head from his cock, denying him of his release. “What the fuck? Make me cum.” You let out a sadistic giggle. “Nuh-uh. I wanna play, bunny.” You could almost see the steam coming from his ears and to be quite frank, you found it hilarious. Standing onto your feet you walked yourself over to your wardrobe.

“What do you think of trying this one out?” You presented a rather large dildo. “Will that even fit?” His nervous eyes scanned the 8 inches of silicone. “You always manage to make it fit, slut.” You strutted back towards the middle of his thighs while lathering the dildo in lube.

“Hands and knees.” Without hesitation he flipped himself over onto his stomach and raised his ass in the air.

“You’re such a whore.” Your tone sounded like sweet candy in contrast to your words. After you had strapped the harness to yourself you attached the dildo onto it. Aligning yourself against his ass you slowly sunk the strap-on into him. Placing one hand on his hips and the other hand on the mattress beside his head, you leaned onto his back. Starting a very slow pace you began to suck love bites against his shoulder blades. His lips were trembling against the mattress, occasionally letting out soft whimpers whenever you moved a bit too harshly. Using your strong grip on his hips you dragged your hips back until only the tip of the dildo was in his ass. A pleasured scream flooded from his mouth when your hips slammed against his.

“Dumb bitch can’t keep his mouth shut? Do I have to fucking gag you?” Tear stained cheeks struggled to shake left to right, begging you to let him stay in this position. “Fine.” You quickened your place, digging your nails into his skin in the process. You moved your other hand from the mattress to the back of his neck, securing him to the bed as you continued your fast and hard thrusts. His breath hiked as he felt his release creeping up on him. “Please… Touch my cock.” Your chortle was sadistic yet it somehow made his cock twitch. “Oh, but puppy… I wanna see you come undone without being touched.” A choked sob left his lips. His hips began to move against yours as he tried to fuck himself against the strap-on. You let out a disgusted sigh. “Needy whore.” And with that he felt himself going over the edge. You rode him through his orgasm while leaving his cock untouched.

It was almost cute how pathetic he acted for you. Cum saturating the mattress with his head still pushed against the pillow. It took a few seconds for him to snap back into reality and when he did a growl escaped his lips.

“You can get rid of it now.” His face was turned, eyes glaring back at yours. You slowly pulled your hips back, admiring the crescent indents marking his hips. His asshole tightened around the bigger tip of the dildo and when you noticed you couldn’t help but unexpectedly thrust back in. A startled moan left his mouth and when he realised his loud noise, he bit down harshly against his lower lip.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dildo fully inside him you responded with “having fun.”

Your hands reached to the edge of the bed frame, grabbing onto the vibrating cock ring. You tossed his body over so his back was against the mattress. Your fingers traced against the prominent vein on his overstimulated cock. The cock ring slid back onto his dick, making him once again vulnerable for you. The rhythm of your thrusts was relentless, only giving him time to let out soft whimpers covered by his palm. His face looked dazed with his eyes half lidded in ecstasy and his cheeks decorated with an obvious blush.

At that moment Naoya’s thighs began to quiver. “Gonna cum again? Greedy slut.” His hips bucked up against the strap-on, meeting your forceful thrusts. With a broken moan of your name he came on the mattress.

“You did well, my husband.” Slowly, you pulled out the dildo from his used ass. He winced slightly at the feeling of the tip stretching his rim. Turning onto his back, he moved his eyes to look at your figure. In his eyes you were a goddess who, for some odd reason, decided to put up with his bullshit. His eyes lowered to stare at your ass as you left the room. When you came back he noticed that you had detached the strap-on and had a towel in your hand to clean him up with.

No woman but you could make his heart flutter this much.

638 notes · View notes

after-witch · 3 years

Text

Baby Mine [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Baby Mine [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: The first time you laid eyes on your child, you knew: You had to get out. Set in the ‘White Picket Fence’-verse.

For request: Something with Overhaul + the reader’s children and manipulation (I’m sorry I accidentally deleted the original message so I don’t remember the exacting wording!)

Word Count: 3328

notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, abuse

From the instant you laid eyes on your daughter, the moment your gaze took in her fresh, wet skin and her small, blinking, uncomprehending eyes, you knew: you had to get the fuck away from Chisaki Kai.

The realization was instant, like a flash, peeling away years of manipulation and training and forced self-acceptance of your situation. Years of justifications and excuses that had wormed their way under your skin, forcing you to see the bright side, to see his side, and let yourself get wrapped up in its candy-coated, fluffy cotton bullshit--gone, ripped away with brutal, exacting force. All that was left was the stark realization, a single driving force shoving you forward: you and your daughter were going to get out.

That was four years ago.

Four years of agonizing pretending. Of forcing yourself to put back on the coat you'd worn before, the false version of yourself that loved him and accepted him and excused everything he ever did to you. It was hard. It was harder to pretend that you accepted this than to actually accept it, to indulge in his control. But every time your resolve weakened, it only took a glance at your child to remind you of why you couldn't just give in.

You had to get out, not for yourself, but for her. To give her a normal life. A life where she could be free, where she could have friends, where she could run outside and not be limited to the house or, if the weather was nice, the secure, high-fenced backyard that Kai had only built within the last year.

Four years of pretending. Four years of planning. And, most difficult of all, four years of waiting. Trust was not easily given by Chisaki Kai, even to the mother of his child.

So you waited.

You waited for Kai to move you two--no, three now--into a house, a real house; not in a populated suburb (another broken promise that you swallowed deep, deep down) but an offshoot of some protected compound in a remote area, where it could be secure and guarded. But what mattered is that its doors connected to the outside, not to some unknown underground bunker. You could manage, if you were connected to the outside.

You waited for Kai to ease up on the restrictions that built up around you during your pregnancy, rules to keep you under a far more watchful eye, rules that made it harder to find a way out. Inches of trust, gradually earned, which made it possible for you to think concretely about escape.

You waited for your daughter to get old enough to run, old enough to survive without needing to be fed every few hours, old enough to know how to stay quiet when told. Watching her grow up only made you want to leave, more. She had a personality now. Stubborn but accepting when she knew she wouldn’t win; sweet in her own way, an unusual way, likely one that came from a lack of interaction with anyone but her parents and a handful of trusted Shie Hassaikai members.

It was one of those trusted members--you never have learned their name, a secret Kai (nor they) were willing to give--that would be your key to escape.

They loved your daughter, too, in time. They were drawn in by her precociousness, her insistence on formalities and pleases and thank-yous. But it was her bubbliness and inherent interest in the world and people around her that made them decide to love her, too.Her big eyes and bubbling laugh when you two were allowed in the yard, sometimes under this member’s supervision.

To your daughter’s delight, they didn’t simply watch you like the handful of others did; they joined in the fun. Just a few weeks ago, she’d convinced him to push her so high on the swing set that she’d gone all the way around--even your heart briefly froze until she’d emerged on the other side, cackling with delight, safe and sound.

They were loyal to Overhaul. Of that there was no doubt. Had they killed for him? Maimed? Tortured? You tried not to think about the things that were done in Overhaul’s name.

Yet they’d betrayed him, all for the sake of your daughter. Part of you feels bitter that they wouldn’t betray him for the sake of you--but then, what was that saying? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was with their help that you were finally able to secure that last necessary piece of the puzzle for your escape: getting out of the secured, monitored gate surrounding the house unnoticed. He told you in hushed, intense tones that he would be on watch duty the night of your escape, that he would take care of the other member assigned that night, and that all you had to do was get out the door at the agreed time with your bag, your daughter, and a good pair of walking shoes. He would drive you as far as he could, and then you two would run, run, run after that.

It was going to work. Your daughter was going to live her life, a real life, not one carefully constructed in captivity. What would you do first, once you were free? The thoughts sometimes made you so giddy that you pinched yourself to calm down. So close, so close to the finish line, and you must be vigilant.

Tonight. You and your daughter are going to leave tonight.

Your daughter is in her bed, tucked in safe and secure. Her eyes are already closed, and Kai is sitting at the edge of the mattress, as always, smoothing down her hair and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. You watch from the doorway with your arms casually crossed, a small, tired, end-of-the-night smile on your lips. It's all so normal, so domestic, isn't it.

"Good night," he says, so soft and sweet that, if you hadn't been pulled out of your deluded coping mechanism, you might find it endearing. Instead, your thoughts scream: This will be the last time you ever see her, you fucked up piece of shit bastard. Oh, do you have a potty mouth when your 'husband' can't hear you...

He leaves your daughter to her dreams and clicks off the little lamp on her nightstand. When he crosses the doorway, you make room and he lets you slide your arm around his, linking yourselves together for the walk to your shared bedroom.

"Tired?" He asks, and you nod. You are tired. Not for the reasons he thinks, and not for the reasons you'll give, but the telltale darkness under your eyes belies the stress of planning your escape from a years-long ordeal.

You sigh, as soft and sweet as his voice was earlier. "Mmhmm. She didn't want to focus on her lessons today. I got a bit frustrated. Sometimes I don't think I'm cut out to be a teacher." By now you're in your bedroom and you casually take off your day clothes, dropping them in the labeled hamper in front of the closet. Your stomach twinges with the memory of how he used to look away when you took off your clothes.

But that was long ago, and now he continues the conversation casually as the pair of you strip and change into your respective pajamas. You slip a pink nightie with ruffled bottom over your head as he

"You just need more practice. Are you reading the lesson books before you start class?"

I wouldn't have to read any lesson books if you let her out of this house, if you let her out of school, if you weren't--you stop your thoughts, afraid that they might show on your face. Afraid that you might lose everything at this last, crucial moment.

But you know you look frustrated, so you roll with it. "Yes," you say, voice just the right amount of annoyed in retort. "But if she doesn't want to sit down and focus, me reading the lesson beforehand isn't really going to help, is it?"

He stares at you, and you wonder in a flash if you went too far. But in the next moment, he's simply continuing to button up his shirt. "Is it going to help our daughter learn if you take out your bad day on your husband?" His voice is dripping with the natural condescension that once had you questioning whether or not it was okay to be upset that he'd kidnapped you, and you hate it. But at least it's a sign that he bought your excuses.

You feel a warm flush of shame at the way his condescension still makes you feel less-than. You slide yourself into bed, under the covers, instinctively grabbing the book on your end table and staring down into it like you could simply disappear inside the pages. You can't mess up anything right now. The weight of what you need to do tonight feels so heavy and you can't stop your hands from trembling slightly.

"Sorry," you whisper, voice thick with emotion. "It's just hard sometimes. I feel in over my head."

It's Kai's turn to slide under the covers, though he doesn't bother grabbing his own book. Instead he gently pushes on your hands until you set the book on the covers. You know he wants you to look at him, so you do. He looks so gentle, so calm. Did he kill anyone today? Did he insult some hapless victim who crossed his organization, spewing venom with his words, before kissing your daughter goodnight hours later?

His gloved hands tip your chin up and it's a familiar feeling, an intimate feeling, when he pulls you in for a kiss. When he pulls away, he's smiling softly, indulgently. You aren't in trouble. You're good.

"I'll come home for lessons tomorrow and see what I can do. Would you like that?"

I'd like you to drop dead and make this easier on us, you think.

"Yes, Kai."

You smile. You nod. You let out a shaky sigh and lean your shoulders against his, picking up your book and signaling an end to the crisis. He lets you read quietly for a while before turning off the lamp on his side of the bed; it's a wordless signal that you already know: time to sleep. You're a dutiful wife and you put your book away and turn off your lamp and then turn back to your husband and whisper,

"Good night, Kai."

You wait until he's deep asleep to ease your way out of the bed. Every step you take in your padded socks makes you cringe. Will the floor creak? Will you make too much noise? Will you have to come up with a half-assed excuse as he comes to, groggily asking what you're doing? You feel like you can't breathe, but you do breathe, soft and shallow as you make your way to the bedroom door.

You didn't dare keep anything related to your escape in your shared bedroom. The door feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as you ever-so-slowly open it, keeping your head turned towards the man sleeping on the bed all the while. He doesn't stir. He simply continues to snore, even as the door opens enough for you to slip out.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you cross the hallway and into the spare room that you used as a playroom and, lately, a makeshift school. The bag you packed is in the closet, tucked behind bags of school supplies that you'd asked Kai to pick up in order to make sure that your escape bag didn't stand out. You grab it swiftly, along with your daughter's outdoor shoes, and make your way to the most dangerous element of your escape: your daughter's room.

She did so well. You remind yourself to praise her once you're away from the house, once you're in a car and making noise isn't a life or death dilemma. You built up the idea of your escape bit by bit over the past few weeks. You couldn't tell her that her father was a monster who kidnapped you, but you could prey on her desire to see more, to go beyond the rules established in her father's domain.

Don't you want to meet other kids? Go to the beach, feel the sand underneath your feet? Meet... your grandma? We'll just take a secret trip, you and me, and then come back to Papa when we're done. Then he'll see that it's safe to leave and come with us next time. But you have to keep it a secret. You can't tell him a thing, or we won't be able to go. You can keep a secret, can't you?

You kneel next to your daughter's bed and gently wake her up, whispering her name and stroking her hair, so she slowly opens her eyes in confusion before her gaze lands on your face and ah, a smile--it's just mom.

"Mama?" She asks, a bit too loudly for your liking.

"Shh baby," you say. "Yes, it's mama. Are you ready to go?" You see the tentativeness, the childish confusion in the way she nods. She doesn't know what real life is yet, she doesn't have an inkling of the freedom that she's lost, but she will.

You don't bother changing. You have a pair of clothes in the bag and you'll change when you're in a safer space. For now, you take her hand and lead her down the staircase, your chest tightening with every step. You can't help but glance back at the still-open doorway leading to your bedroom. You pray to whatever is listening that he won't wake up. Each step is a step closer to freedom. Each step is a terrifying risk that you or she might slip, might make noise, might wake him up.

Your spirits lift when you reach the bottom of the stairs. All you have to do is get out the door and he'll be waiting there with the key and a getaway car and freedom.

You clutch your daughter's hand, your own palm now sweaty; you nearly trip on a toy you forgot to pick up earlier, but thankfully the light in the entryway was turned on (you must have forgotten to turn it off) and you see it just in time to avoid disaster. You squeeze your daughter hand and turn the corner that leads to the entryway of your home--

Where Chisaki Kai is standing, waiting for you, his eyes practically illuminated by the glowing lamp light.

You drop the bag.

"No," you say. "No." Your mind suddenly feels fuzzy, like its buzzing, drowning out all of your thoughts with a pure denial of what you see in front of you.

"How--how did you--" you sputter, unable to continue voicing your question. It was all planned. It was all practiced. You pretended, you waited, you planned--for four years. How? How did he know?

He doesn't have to answer. You know the moment that your daughter's grip slips out of your hand and she runs up to her father, feet thumping on the floor. She clings to his side and doesn't look at you, and he runs a hand through her hair without taking his eyes away from your shaking form.

Of course she told him. Of course she told her papa that you wanted to leave. She loved him. Why wouldn't she? It was all she'd ever known. You were breaking the rules, breaking the structure that dominated her life since she could remember.

"Please don't be mad at me, mama." Your daughter whimpers against Kai, and you can hear the tears in her little voice, and your heart aches for her in so many ways.

"I'm not," you whisper. "I'm not mad at you, baby." You're just sad, so sad. It hurts. All of it.

"Sweetheart," Kai says, voice surprisingly calm despite the events, "go back to bed while I help your mother unpack your things, all right?"

Your daughter nods and suddenly she's against you, hugging you in a tight, childish way; you only have enough energy to pull your arm around her, limp and heavy, patting her back without really feeling it before she scampers up the stairs.

You're left alone. With him.

He approaches you slowly and you feel like an animal. There's wildness hammering in your heart and the thought comes up, unwillingly: could you still run? Escape on your own? And hope that some day, your daughter escapes and finds you? But the thought of leaving her behind is impossible to indulge in for more than a second, and you know that without her, your life isn't worth living. The thought of abandoning her to Kai Chisaki brings up an immediate sense of revulsion and guilt and shame.

"What were you thinking?"

You aren't looking at him, but you don't have to be looking at him to know that he's glaring at you. Looking down on you with his gaze filled with righteous justifications. You glance and--yes, he is, but there's something darker, something you’d forgotten, underneath. Your stomach suddenly feels loaded with weights and your legs move backwards, pulling you away from him, away from the anger that feels like it's radiating off him in waves.

He suddenly grips your chin with brutal force and yanks your jaw forward, forcing you to look at him.

"I had to kill one of my most trusted men today because of your..." His eyes dart back and forth for a moment, before he spits out the apparently perfect description of your escape attempt. "Hysteria. An absolute waste of potential, all because of your ridiculousness."

Your mouth is dry. Your voice is hoarse. But you speak up, anyway. You've already lost everything.

"It's not ridiculous to want to get out of here."

The weight of the years seems to press down on your shoulders, pounding into your bones, screaming in your ears.

"It's not ridiculous to--to want to take my daughter away from the man who kidnapped me and forced me to pretend like I was happy here, like I was happy living in some--" you cough, needing moisture, but not daring to stop to swallow lest you lose your courage. "--glorified dollhouse while you tell me what to do and what to wear and how to act and when to fuck you and when to have a baby and fuck you, fuck you, just fuck you Kai. I hate you. Oh I fucking hate you."

You don't notice as your voice gets louder, emboldened by the adrenaline that's been crashing through you since you opened the bedroom door, until his hand is gripping your upper arm in a show of brute, vise-length strength.

"Lower. your. voice."

His grip strengthens until you cry out, and then it gradually loosens without letting you go completely.

For the next few moments, you do nothing but stare at one another. Your mind feels hazy, darting from thought to thought. It was all for nothing. The last four years, all for nothing. But you think about your daughter, about what she may have been able to accomplish outside of these walls, and even the fantasy of a free life for her made it worth something--didn't it?

It's his voice that lowered, now, as he lets you go completely and straightens himself up. All business now. But what business will he engage in, this time?

"Perhaps you do need a vacation," he says, finally. Firmly. He's made a decision.

You wonder if he's lost his mind and you're about to ask as much before he continues.

"Did you know this house has a secret room? It's nice and quiet. The perfect place for you to recuperate until you've regained your senses."

The room, the room, the room.

Your hand instinctively claps against your mouth as you cry out.

After all, you don't want to wake your daughter up with your screams.

#yandere overhaul #yandere chisaki kai #yandere x reader #overhaul x reader #afterwitch writes

501 notes · View notes

squishneedsahero · 3 years

Text

Getting The Family Together

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 12 of 13

Word Count: 1550

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

You're in an amazingly good mood when you arrive home that evening after seeing Jason. Your other children, official and unofficial, notice along with your husband but none of them ask, assuming that the GCPD charity ball had just gone better than expected. It isn't until a few days after you had seen Jason that Bruce brings up your persistent good mood. You had successfully pulled him away from all of his work, yet again, just to cuddle him on the couch. You were in your usual spot on his lap with your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head when he brings it up, "what has you in such a good mood? I know you well enough that it wasn't the GCPD charity ball."

You lean your head back against his shoulder so you can look up at him, "well, I sure hope you would know that, Love. But whats different about my mood?" Your question is genuine in the moment, but the second after you ask it you realize of course you wouldn't be able to hide the fact that you were happy about seeing and holding your Jaybear in your arms once again.

"Well, since you left that evening you've been in a-" he pauses, wanting to choose the correct words since he knows if he were to say 'better mood' you would relentlessly bug him about it for the next week or so, "you've been in a good mood far too long for it to have just been due to you being tipsy from the party."

You laugh gently, "good catch," you say in reference to his pause, "you know me so well." You take a pause of your own, absentmindedly tilting your head to press a kiss to his jaw. "I saw Jason," you eventually answer and open your mouth to continue but get interrupted.

"I know, I won't ask you where he is," Bruce says as the both of you know he had been trying to track Jason down for months at this point. At first it had been to stop him but as soon as he learned it was Jason his motivation had changed to helping Jason get off the seemingly destructive path he was currently on. His arms tighten around you, "I'm glad you got to see him." His hand brushes your hair out of your face, "I know that you missed him."

You smile at the man holding you, grateful yet again for the many arguments you had gone through with him, convincing him that you weren't scared of the potential dangers. "I know you did too, eventually he'll be ready to come home again and we can have our family together once more."

You can do nothing but glare at the man standing in your face. He was ugly, before you had broken his nose with your fist and without the black eye that was quickly forming. In all honesty you were surprised that it had taken this long for you to get kidnapped for the second time in your life, the first time since officially meeting Bruce. "Now, you're going to behave yourself while we call your husband and get him to send us the ransom money if he wants to see you alive again."

"Okay," you respond as it takes everything in you to not just sit there and taunt the man. They had you duck-taped to a chair, preventing you from causing further damage to their faces. And sure maybe you should be acting scared but still your reaction to danger is to laugh in it's face, even if you know that as soon as that phone call was made you would be out of this place in the hour.

The brutish looking man growls in frustration and slaps you across the face before yelling at his friends to keep an eye on you while he makes a phone call.

Tears sting your eyes at the slap on the face but you bite your tongue and look at the other two men who were now standing in front of you. There were maybe 20 others scattered through the building, they had clearly thought all of this through, but were a little underprepared for the fact that every single hero or vigilante in the city would take your kidnapping personally.

The man who had slapped you comes back, bragging about how scared Bruce had sounded on the phone and how willingly he was ready to hand over the money he had demanded. He barely makes it back into the room, when there is a moment of static over their walkie-talkies and then as scream and some loud banging off in the distance.

"Ooh, that doesn't sound very good," you say, clenching your teeth in false sympathy for them. "You guys might want to get that checked out." You can see that the man wants to slap you again for your big mouth but there is another shout and he begins directing the men to group together to try and protect the merchandise.

Eventually, you notice him first, Jason sneaks into the room in his Redhood gear. You were a little surprised to see him out of everyone since there had not been a single gunshot fired and that was kind of his thing. It didn't take the men around you long to notice Jason, since he was moving through the open now.

As they approach Jason, after realizing he isn't shooting everyone on sight, the men's confidence gets shattered as an actual child jumps from the rafters and knocks 3 of them down in one go. They begin firing their guns, shooting at anything that moves. You see their recklessness and know you should get out of there since as soon as they realize they're outmatched they're going to threaten you in the hopes of gaining an advantage.

You unsteadily stand, still duck-taped to the chair, and begin to waddle towards the nearest doorway. You get interrupted by your oldest son catching you, "hey, need some help?" Dick asks, clearly teasing you for this predicament you had gotten into.

"No thanks, Nightwing, I've heard that it improves your running speed if you're tied to a chair."

You see the flash of a smile cross his face as he just cuts the tape and helps you out of it. He then goes to help you out of the room but you stop him and say, "I can manage, you help your brothers."

You can see him hesitate for a moment before going with it, you then take off towards the door, only to be interrupted once again, but this time by the man who had slapped you, pointing his gun in your face. Your three sons who had come to your rescue, clearly trying to keep some sort of secret identities by the fact that everyone wasn't here, are all busy in the moment. You stop short at the sight of the gun, but once again you're impulsive, kicking the man square in the balls before bolting to the door.

You make it to the door and pull it open, stepping through it just for a shooting pain to go through your thigh. It's as you fall to the ground that you hear the gunshot and realize that the bastard had shot you. You do what you can to close the door behind you, just in time since another bullet hits the door. You then scoot across the grimy floor, to a spot where you can hide since you won't be moving far, and look at the blood trail you had left. You take a breath and collect your thoughts, remembering the sports bra you had worn and ripping your shirt off for a makeshift bandage/tourniquet for your leg.

You get it wrapped well enough to stop some of the bleeding and begin putting pressure on the wound, despite the fact that doing so nearly caused you to black out. Not long after that the fighting in the other room stops and Jason is the first one through the closed door.

"Mama?" He takes the hood off as he lands on his knees beside you.

"I'm fine," you say, motherly instinct taking over and you wanting to protect him despite the fact that he had just taken out at least 7 guys on his own moments before.

"Bull," he says and moves your hands so that he can evaluate things, not that he didn't trust you knew what you were doing but knowing that your mind was probably a bit all over the place.

"I'm fine, enough, Jaybear," you say and lean your head against the wall behind you.

Hours later you're relaxing on the couch with Bruce and three of your boys, holding them all as well as you can with a leg cast. The bullet had fractured your femur so it made everything a bit more complicated but at least now you knew how it felt to be shot so you could write better descriptions in your books.

But it's as you're sitting there with Bruce, Dick, Tim and Damian that the doorbell rings and a few minutes later Alfred enters the room. You look up to see Jason standing beside him, "Hey."

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #batfam #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #batfam x batmom #batfam x reader #Batman #batman x you #batmom #batmom reader #batman x batmom #batman x batmom!reader

215 notes · View notes

bjornswoman · 3 years

Text

Arrows

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hey guys! Sorry for being inactive all this time. I had some really awful thimgs to manage, but now I am free to finish everything that I am preparing for you. This is a little something that I found and decided to finish and post tonight. I hope you enjoy it.

Oh and however wants to be in taglist write in the comments. Thanks.

Oh and something else, sorry for any mistakes. I will write them correct later. Thanks.

Pairing: Bjorn x Reader.

Genre: Drama, romance, sad, fluff.

Summary: Bjorn is in his deadbed and remembers you.

Warnings: Death, spoilers from season 6B.

Low key he prayed to the Gods to take him to Valhalla and free him from his terrible nightmares. He was hurt and it was too painful and the nightmares hurt him more. Your face was haunting him. You were coming in his sleep to take him. Sometimes he saw you even when he was awake. But you were dead. You had died a long time ago. His mind played dangerous games to him.

Bjorn knew that he was going to die. Nobody would survive this wound and there he was. The Gods had favored him, he had one last thing to do. To beat the Rus. After that he would go to Valhalla, next to his great father and mother and you. The woman he loved.

He relived your death back then. In Frankia, after Rollo's betrayal when his mother was injured. He couldn't save you. He was late.

You were a good fighter. Lagertha herself had trained you. You were one of her shieldmaidens at first. Then you met him and your relationship started. Everything moved fast and you married early, but this was great. You loved this man and he loved you back. You have even made plans for a future traveling to new lands together.

The worst and most painful thing was that he didn't meet your child. You died carrying it. He died along with you. It would be your last fight after this child come out to the world, but, apparently, the Gods had arranged something else for you. Maybe you kept him back. He was made for great and remarkable things. After all he was Bjorn Ironside, he had killed a bear only with his bare hand.

That day was one of the worst days in his life and after all this time he had lived a lot of days like that one.

That morning wasn't good and he knew it. Something bad was going to happen but nobody payed attention to it. You to beat that traitor Rollo and his Frankish army. You had seen how bad Bjorn and even Ragnar felt about this. Rollo shared their blood. They were family.

You were on board next to Bjorn. His eyes were on the sea and your on him. Like any other time you wanted to look at him before this, tell him that you love him and kiss him hard, like it was the last time. Maybe it was and it really was, but you didn't know it back there, only the Gods knew it. You had a bad feeling about it.

Bjorn's blue eyes made it to you and he moved his body closer to yours. You smiled slightly and he did the same. His hand, that wasn't holding his axe, travelled on your belly and caressed you softly. His eyes were still stuck on yours and yours on his. You didn't want this moment to end but it had to. Without more thinking you wrapped your hands around his huge, muscular body tightly. At least as tight as you could.

Inside his hands you felt safe and loved. You weren't afraid, as you should be. You tried not to be afraid, but something that day tried to make you feel like it.

You closed your eyes and smelled his scent. You loved it. You loved everything that had to do with him. Your husband. The person you lived the most in the whold world.

"Is everything alright?" He asked you when you pulled away. Obviously, he could sense that somethimg was wrong, but he didn't know what.

"Yes, my love." You answered and your hands caressed his arms softly. "It's just strange to fight Rollo again. He was one of us. He was family." You continued and his hand made it again on your belly. It was flat. You were only on the second month.

"Don't thing about him, he betrayed us. He killed our own people. He burned out our settlement." He remembered angry and you caressed him again, trying to relaxe him. Before you start saying anything his lips pressed on yours in a passionate, hungry kiss. You needed this kiss. "You stay close to me in the battle." He said for hundredth time that day and you rolled your eyes. He was acting like you were a baby. "Don't roll your eyes at me (Y/N). I don't want you or our child to get harmed. So do this." He said again and you looked at him frustrated. You could take care of you. You were shieldmaiden for a lomg time.

"I am not a baby, you know." You said and he smiled, instead of getting angry, like you thought at first. His body was now pressed on yours and his hot breath fell on your face in a way that you hated. That bastard knew too well what he was doing. If there wasn't a battle about to start, you wouldn't resist laying with him, but that would happen later, or that was what both of you wanted to believe.

After these conversation everything happened really fast. Ragnar and Rollo fought each other and Vikings fought with Frankish. Your face was bloody along with your blade and clothes. You had listened to Bjorn and stayed next to him in battle.

But things got complicated when Lagertha was about to go help Ragnar and she got injured. Bjorn run to his mother and you kept fighting with some soldier.

"Retreat!" He yelled and you looked at him, holding his mother in his hands. He stepped in a ship and you tried to do tge same. Ragnar had got in and you were behind him. Bjorn extended him hand to help you and then it happened.

A soldier stabbed you from behind in your belly. Bjorn yelled. The soldier took the sword out of your body and you couldn't help but fall in the ship. Bjorn's hand wrapped around your body. You were hurting and hot tears were streamimg down your eyes. Bjorn was in shock. He was pressing your wound and tried to help his mother too.

"My baby..." You sighed crying. Even if you survived, that was impossible, your baby wouldn't.

"We will fix it, (Y/N)! Just don't close your eyes! Stay with me (Y/N)! Stay with me, my love!" He yelled but it was too late, you looked at him one last time and then at the sky. That was it you were dead. "No! Nooo!! Stay with me! You can't die! You can't leave me..." He broke at the end. You were dead and nothing could change that. His beloved with and his unborn child were both dead.

After that he buried you and continued his life. His mind was running to you. He even came and talk to you, when he wanted to take him mind off of things. When his father died, he came to you. When his mother died, he did the same. He even came before his battle with the Rus.

"I think that we will see each other soon, my love." Was what he had said. "My time has come." He continued and he left.

Now, after his injury, you were there. You saw you every single night. He relived the pain of seeing you dying inside his hands in that ship. When he didn't see you dying, he saw you talkimg to him, waiting to take him.

"Who is that woman that you are calling?" Erik the red dared to ask him. "Who is (Y/N)?" He asked again and in the sound of your name his heart started beating a little faster inside his chest.

"She was my wife. She is dead." He managed to answer. People knew about his lovefor his first wife, you. They just didn't know who you were.

He knew that he had to defeat the Rus. Then he would go to Valhalla. You would reunite. He just had to do one last thing. Bjorn gained all the power that had left inside his body and stood in front of the Rus and his traitor brothers, Ivar and Hvitserk.

All of them thought that he was dead, that all this was a trick. One of them wanted to prove it. He shot him once.

Bjorn remembered your first encounter. You were on the forest and fired arrows on the trees angrily. You weren't really good at it, but you kept doing it. Your step mother had managed to enrage you again with her stupid words. He had been there for training with his arrows as well.

You shot an arrow and it landed on the tree behind him, after it cut his arm.

"I'm really sorry." You said running to him. You knew who he was. He was the earl's wife's son, his name was Bjorn. You knew him, you had seen his before and you had heard the girls talkimg about him.

His hand took the arrow out of the tree and his blue eyes examined it. Then he looked at you.

"Did you just shoot me?" He asked and you couldn't say if he sounded angry, or playful. "Is that your way of getting a guys attention?" He asked playfully this time and you smiled.

You took your arrow from his hands and looked back at his eyes.

"I guess it wasn't, but now that you mentioned it. I have to find more arrows like this." You said in the same tone of voice and left him alone.

A second arrow made it on his body and he remembered your first kiss.

After your first encounter, you met again and became friends, close friends, but then the worst thing happened. You fell for him.

It was one of those boring feasts. Bjorn was getting the attention of a lot of girls and that amazed him. That only made you angrier. That night you caught him kissing one lady outside a barn. You felt your heart breaking and many pieces and you left from there, trying to avoid your tears.

For the next week you avoided him and he got enrage. One day he spotted you on the woods and trapped you between him and a tree demanding an explanation about your strange behavior.

"Let me go! I don't have to tell you anything!" You yelled but he didn't let you go. He was stronger and taller than you, so it was difficult for you free yourself from him. "Why don't you go to that girl for thag night?" You said before you could control your mouth.

After your words a mischievous grin formed on his face.

"You are jealous, that's it." He stated and befkre you could deny it, he continued talking. "Don't try to convince me that you aren't. I know you." He continued.

"I am not jealous of her." You said angrily and his grin only got wider. He knew the truth and you knew it, as well. The truth that you had fallen for him.

"Then why did it bother you so much that I kissed her?" He asked leaning his head closer to yours. It was the like the air that morning was gettimg hotter with each little movement he did.

"I-I....." You tried to say but nothing came out of your mouth. It was like you had forgotten how to form proper words.

"I will tell you the reason, (Y/N)." He said and came even closer to you. So close that you could sense his heart to yours. Your own heart was about to be ripped off your chest and you were sure that he knew. "You have fallen for me the way I have fallen for you." He continued and before you could argue with him, he pulled even closer and pressed his lips on yours.

You didn't know that you needed that kiss so much. His lips was the best thing you had ever feel. They were soft and sweet.

A third arrow landed on his chest and he reminded your death, again. The worst thing he had even lived along with his mother's funeral.

He was coming to you. Just one more movement. Before he do it you appeared to him and smiled.

"Do it, my love, and then come with me." You said softly and he gained his strength for once more, the last time. He pulled the sword out and raised it, for the others to come and beat the enemy. Everyone had gathered to beat them. They followed him. The king of kings. Kimg Bjorn Iromside.

He was now with you after a very big amount of time. You were in Valhalla, in Odin's Hall, surrounded by everyone you knew.

#vikings bjorn #bjorn imagine #bjorn ragnarsson #bjorn lothbrok #bjorn ironside #bjorn x reader #vikings imagine #vikings x reader

245 notes · View notes

sequinsmile-x · 3 years

Text

High

Aaron gets hurt protecting Emily.

For my pal @aubreyprc

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Canon typical violence/injury. Some cursing. Aaron Hotchner high on pain meds.

She was going to kill him.

First, she was going to check he was ok, kiss him until she was sure and then she was going to kill him.

Emily anxiously twirls her wedding and engagement ring around her finger, attempting to channel her nervous energy into something other than tearing her cuticles apart. A cup of coffee enters her eye line, and she looks up to see Dave standing in front of her, a reassuring smile on his face.

“It probably tastes awful, but at least it’s something.” He says as she takes it from his hand and he sits next to her. “The others are finished at the scene and are on the way.”

Emily grimaces at the taste of the coffee as she takes a sip, but for a second it distracts her, takes her mind off the fact her husband is an idiot.

An idiot who she loved more than anything. An idiot who happened to take a knife to the shoulder for her less than an hour ago.

“He’ll be ok, Emily.”

She scoffs before taking another sip of the coffee, grimacing at the taste again. “He won’t be once I’m finished with him.” She shakes her head and looks at her friend. “Why did he do it, Dave? We’ve been together for years and this has never happened.”

“The guy had his arms around you and a knife against your throat.” Dave says, his eyes flicking to the tiny cut on her neck. “He would have done the same for any of us.”

Emily closes her eyes at the memory. She wasn’t exactly sure how it happened, how she had ended up on the floor and the unsub had his knife in Aaron’s shoulder in a matter of seconds. The first thing she was really aware of was a gun going off, Derek taking a well aimed shot at the unsub to disarm him, but not kill him, and Aaron lowering himself to the ground next to her with his hand pressed against his own shoulder.

She had held him against her as they waited for the paramedics, her hand against the wound and her lips against his forehead as she told him she loved him and how fucking stupid he was in equal measure.

“I know he would have.” She agrees, knowing it was true. Aaron would do anything for the team, take any of their places if they were in danger. She knew he carried a burden if any of them got hurt, more so if it was her, and it would take weeks for the guilt to fade, for her to be able to convince him that just because he was their leader it wasn’t his fault. “It doesn’t make him less of a self sacrificing asshole.”

“Em-”

“Maybe you can save the lecture for when I’m not sitting in a hospital waiting room wearing a shirt covered in my husband's blood?” Emily says, an edge to her voice that has Dave hold up a hand in surrender as he takes a sip of his own coffee.

Emily knew Aaron would be ok. He hadn’t lost consciousness once, even when she had sat next to him in the ambulance, his hand grasped in hers as he tried to hide the amount of pain he was in. But he had been so pale, the blood loss making him look weary as he tried to reassure her that everything would be fine.

“Family of Aaron Hotchner?”

Emily looks up to see a doctor standing and looking around, a kind look on her face as Emily stood, Dave not far behind her, and walked over.

“I’m his wife, is he ok?”

The doctor guides them back over to the waiting area, indicating for Emily to sit down, which she does, feeling anxiety rise through her chest.

“The stab wound your husband came in with was very deep, and the scans show that the tip of the knife broke off against his clavicle.” The doctor explains gently. “The tip of the knife is still in his shoulder, so we are going to have to do surgery to get it out and close up the wound.”

Emily felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, memories of when Aaron had been stabbed before, so many years ago now, flooding back in a way that took her breath away.

“Is he going to be ok?” She asks, shrugging Dave’s hand off of her shoulder as he tries to provide some comfort, knowing right now it wouldn’t do her any good.

“There are never any guarantees.” The doctor says, but she smiles at Emily again in a reassuring way. ��But he has remained conscious this entire time, and spent a long time trying to convince us he didn’t need pain meds.”

Emily chokes out a laugh at that. “That sounds about right.” She clears her throat, forces down the emotion trying to claw its way up it. “Can I see him?”

“Of course.” The doctor replies. “I need you to fill out the paperwork too.”

Emily stands and follows the doctor, briefly turning back to Dave. “Can you let the others know?”

“Of course, bella. You go make sure he’s ok.”

She follows the doctor to the room Aaron is in, and she blows out a breath when she sees him. The wound to his left shoulder is packed tight and he looks so pale it does nothing to calm her concerns.

“Sweetheart.” He says as soon as he sees her, a strain to his voice as he tries to hide the pain he is in. She walks over to the bed and sits on the edge of it facing him, taking his hand in between hers. “Are you ok?”

He lifts his good arm to press his thumb to the tiny cut on her neck, the one that had stopped bleeding before the paramedic even arrived, and Emily rolls her eyes at him.

“I’m fine. And I’m not the one with a piece of a knife stuck in my shoulder, honey.” She scoffs as she straightens the cannula in his nose delivering him oxygen. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She leans forward and kisses him, a gentle thing against his lips to remind herself that he is alive, and then she rests her forehead against his.

“It’s ok. Just don’t do anything stupid like die during surgery.” She says, her smile wavering as tears flood her lash line. “I’d hate to have to bring you back to life just to kill you myself.”

He laughs at that and it makes him jolt in pain, wincing as the movement makes his shoulder burn. She shushes him, her fingers soft against his cheek.

There’s a clearing of a throat behind them and Emily turns to see a nurse standing there.

“We need to take you down now, Agent Hotchner.”

Emily turns back to Aaron and kisses him, more forceful this time as she tries to pour everything into it. She pulls back and smiles at him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He says, squeezing her hand.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

__________________

The first thing Aaron feels is pain. His shoulder is killing him, a burning sensation lancing all the way down his arm and across his chest. Then he realises how fuzzy his head feels, the tell tell signs of anaesthesia and heavy pain killers in his system, making his brain feel light and heavy at the same time.

He opens his eyes and looks around, unsurprised to see he is in a hospital room. He groans at the light in the room, the brightness of the fluorescent lights making his head swim even more.

“Aaron.”

He turns to see Emily sitting next to him, a look of relief on her face. Her presence confuses him, unsure why she was by his side, and why her hand was in his.

“Prentiss?” He asks, missing the way she frowns when he calls her by her surname. “What happened?”

“You were stabbed, you had to have surgery.” She stands up, both of her hands now grasped around one of his. She presses a kiss to his cheek and he shrinks backwards, the pain in his shoulder stopping him from moving more.

“What are you doing?”

She looks at him, equal parts concern and amusement on her face. “Trying to kiss my husband.”

“We aren’t married.” He says, and he watches her smile slip away. “That’s mean, Prentiss.”

Aaron had loved her for years, longer than he had cared to admit. He’d often wondered if she’d felt the same, but this felt cruel. Like she was messing with him when he was so in love with her just having her touch him made his skin feel like it was burning.

“I could show you our marriage certificate but I don’t carry it with me everywhere we go.” She jokes, a nurse walking in before she could say anything else.

“Oh look who is awake.” The overly cheery nurse says as she sends a smile to Emily. “Your wife was very worried about you.”

“Not my wife.” Aaron mumbles. Just my beautiful coworker I’m in love with. He thinks, although a small laugh from Emily and the nurse tells him he may well have said it out loud.

“Is he ok?” Emily asks, concern for him sneaking it’s way into her voice. “He knows who I am but keeps insisting that we aren’t married.”

The nurse finishes checking Aaron’s vitals, making a note on the chart in her hands. “He’s fine, this isn’t totally unusual for someone coming round from anesthetic. I’ve seen some people completely forget who their loved ones are.” She presses a few buttons on one of the machines he is hooked up to. “I’ve set up the next set of meds, so he should sleep soon. Next time he wakes up, try and get him to eat some of the crackers we’ll bring in.”

Emily nods and turns her attention back to Aaron as the nurse leaves. “See, the nurse knows we’re married.”

“I’d remember marrying you.” He grumbles, eyeing her wedding rings with jealousy. Her husband is a lucky bastard.

Emily smiles at him, biting her lip to suppress a laugh as he realises he had accidentally spoken out loud again. She pushes some hair off of his forehead, her touch warming him immediately, something familiar about the gesture that his confused brain can’t place. He thinks he sees her get her phone out, but the room is starting to get blurry, his eyes closing against his will.

“I don’t think you even remember what town we’re currently in, Aaron.”

“Too pretty to marry me.” He says, his voice thick as the painkillers the nurse had given him start to make him drift to sleep. “Too good.”

“Go to sleep, love.” She says, a kiss to his forehead as she soothes him.

He falls asleep to her soft lips against his skin, and he thinks there would be much worse things in the world than being Emily’s husband.

__________________

It takes another couple of hours for him to wake again, and she can immediately tell he’s more lucid this time. A focus in his eyes that hadn’t been present in the few minutes he had been awake earlier.

“Hi sweetheart.” He says, smiling at her in the way he did on their first date, the way it made her feel now no less significant than it had been then.

“Hi honey.” Emily stands from the chair next to his bed so she can kiss him, and then she settles on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Sore.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, but leaves it, knowing that she won’t get any further admission of pain from him. “I need to make you eat some crackers.” She says, a smirk on her face as she indicates the package on the table next to him.

He groans, the idea of eating anything making his stomach turn. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. But I’ll give you a few minutes.”

“I’m your husband, you’re meant to be nice to me.”

“Oh, so now you remember we’re married?” She asks, a wry smile on her face that develops into a laugh at his confusion

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you later. I took a video.” Her smile fades slightly as she takes in the bandage poking out from his gown, the way his arm was strapped to his chest.

“I’m ok, Em.”

“I know.” She says, looking back at his face and giving him a wobbly smile. “Today was rough.” She lifts his hand to her lips and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “As soon as you are better we’re going to have a conversation about you sacrificing yourself like that for me.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

Emily shakes her head at him and rolls her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“But you love me.”

Emily smiles and kisses him, pulling back just enough to to speak. “I really do.”

__________________

She shows him the video footage of him in the hospital as soon as they get home, him in their bed on rest for at least a month. She giggles as he tries, and fails, to take her phone from her, his usual strength failing him with one of his arms out of action.

He promises all sorts of filthy things, once he’s better, in exchange for her deleting the video, which she does in front of him.

It’s only at the office Christmas party a few months later when it pops up in the montage Penelope puts together every year he realises he’s been duped.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fic #hotchniss mini fic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner whump #hurt comfort #fluff #CM fanfic #Criminal Minds

105 notes · View notes

nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Of Kings and Beasts - Twelve

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Smut (almost?), Injuries, Violence,

Word Count: 3K

A/n: Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! 18+!!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

Your eyes slowly flutter open, your head throbbing and body aching.

The events prior to your collapse come flooding into your mind and you’re suddenly filled with anxiety.

You push yourself up, wincing as ropes bite into your wrists and a gag scratches the corners of your mouth

You’re bound on a bed, still wearing your cape and gown.

“I was beginning to wonder when you would wake up... if I had been a little too rough with you,” a silky voice says.

You look over to the source, glaring at the man by the window.

Loki only smiles at you, slowly walking towards you.

“You’re far smarter than anyone gives you credit for, do you know that? The Kings think you to be nothing more than a delicate princess, but we both know that’s not true. You had to find your way, make your way. You’ve gone to great lengths just to survive. And that’s where you and I are similar.”

Two long, cold fingers are under your chin, tilting your head back.

“You’re so much more than they think. But they won’t get to know that, will they?” Your eyes widen and you shimmy back, terrified for your life.

The man only laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m not going to kill you, petal. Not yet, anyway. But I cannot say the same for your husbands.” You make a noise through your gag, wanting to only ask him one question.

“You want to know why?” He asks, waiting until you nod before answering.

“Because I have lived in the shadows for far too long. That is something that you and I have in common. We’ve both blossomed in the shadows of other people. But for no longer. It is time for me to take my rightful place as King. King of Asgard. King of Acadia. They will be one under my rule.” Your brows draw together. He means to overthrow not one but two of the strongest kingdoms on the continent.

He opens his mouth to further his explanation, but the door opens and a certain blond-haired beast walks in.

“Ah, yes. I was about to come fetch you,” Loki says, looking over at you and shooting you a wink. You’re still so confused.

“Now, you have your fun with your new wife, while I go divert the attention of her husbands,” Loki says, taking a step back. His appearance changes before your very eyes, and then you’re staring at yourself.

Your lips smile at you, and then your body is walking out of the King’s chambers and closing the door tightly behind.

Thor seems to pay his shape-shifting brother no mind and is instead entirely focused on you.

He slowly approaches the bed, hands extended towards you and you flinch away.

A frown graces his features and he shakes his head, pulling the gag from your mouth.

“I had asked him not to be so rough with you, but he insisted it was necessary. I do hope you’ll forgive me, my love.” You’re taken aback by the name, staring at him in shock.

He chuckles, the sound almost nervous.

“I suppose I should explain myself.” You wait a little less than patiently as the King gathers his thoughts, his eyes darting to you ever now and again.

“You... you are intriguing. You’ve bewitched me, as I said. Captured both my attention and my heart with only a few moments.”

“What in the name of the Gods are you speaking of?” You’re so bloody confused.

“When I first stumbled upon you, I had hoped that you were not in fact the queen. That instead, you were a mere maiden in the Palace. But even finding that you are wed to two of my dear friends... why, it wasn’t enough to stop me from falling for you.” He takes your bound hands in his, thumbs rubbing over your palms. It makes you feel sick to your stomach, and you wrench yourself out of his grip.

“You will not touch me! Not after what you’ve done.” A thought bubbles into your mind and you look up at him. “Loki had called me your new wife... what on Earth does he mean by that?” Thor grins, two fingers stroking your cheek gently while he gazes at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You are to be my wife, (Y/n). And I swear to you that I shall treat you with the respect and the love that you deserve. Your current husbands should be killed for the way they have treated something as delicate as you.” You glare at him, jerking your face away.

“You will not speak of my husbands in such a manner. Your actions are treasonous, and you will bring war upon your kingdom. Why would you do that for me? Why overthrow their kingdom? The greed of men never ceases to disgust me.” He furrows his brows, him being the confused one this time.

“Why would I not go to the ends of the Earth for the woman I love? You have carved a way into my heart, darling, and I would both die for you and kill for you.”

You shake your head vigorously, wanting to cease his speaking.

“How can you claim to love me when you do not even truly know me? You know nothing of me, besides whatever you have created from your own imagination. You do not love me, Thor. Do not try to convince yourself or me that you do.”

He grips your face roughly, eyes alight with fire.

“Do not for a moment think that I am not in love with you.” His voice is booming, frightening even, and for a moment you shrink in on yourself, reduced to that terrified young princess yet again.

He takes a deep breath then lets it out, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I did not mean to frighten you, my love, I just... I love you and I need you to know it, to accept it. You are to be my wife. My queen, and the mother of my children. I know it is not something you are keen on, only due to your loyalty to your first marriage, but that will be fixed over time, I promise. You need only give me a chance. A chance to show you how it feels to truly be loved.”

There's something off about him, his eyes, his smile. But you cannot deny the fact that his offer is tempting. A chance to not live in fear? To be treated with respect and love? It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so much more.

But you cannot simply give up on your husbands, can you?

~*~

“There you are! We were beginning to get worried!” James exclaims, taking your hand and ushering you into the room.

Steve watches curiously, something about you seeming off to him.

“I was engaged with Loki, I do apologize for taking so long.” You sit down on the bed, hand reaching for Steve’s.

Something’s not right.

You’ve been quite receptive to their physical touches, but this doesn’t feel right.

Instead of saying anything, the King keeps quiet and plasters a smile onto his face.

“You’re safe here, darling. You need not cut your conversations short for us.” You smile up at him then look over to the note on the bedside table.

“Have you had any luck?” The two shake their heads, wishing they were closer to figuring out who the threat is.

“What can you remember about receiving the letter? The time, if anybody was around?” James watches as your brows furrow, trying to recall anything that may be of use.

“Nothing stands out... although... Thor was quite adamant about bringing me here instead of back to you. I thought that a little strange but at the time I did not question it. And... there was an incident the other night.” Steve’s hand finds your lower back, urging you to continue.

“He made advances... declared his love for me. He later apologized for it, but the entire event has put me on edge.” The two Kings exchange glances at this new information, the brunet ready to go find Thor and give him a piece of his mind.

“Please do not be angry. I’m sure he meant nothing by it, and I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble.” James shushes you, taking a seat on the bed beside you.

“You won’t cause any trouble. If this issue bothers you, then it must be brought up. We will have words with Thor.” You nod, the corners of your mouth turning up in a small but sinister grin.

~*~

The door to the chambers you’ve been trapped in opens, and the trickster walks in with a gleaming smile on his face.

“What have you done now?” You demand, tugging against your bonds.

He only chuckles, walking past you to the small tray of food on the bedside table.

“Oh, I’ve done nothing. It’s what you’ve done that will be the downfall of the two great kingdoms.” You shake your head at him, wanting to know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Right as we speak, you’re confessing to the Kings just how much my idiot brother loves you, how much he longs to be with you and how he would do anything for you. And we both know how much of a temper your husbands have, especially when it comes to you. So it is only a matter of time before they become defensive and seek him out.”

“Wait, Thor is unaware of your plot?” The man laughs, a full belly laugh from deep in his core at your question.

“Oh, Gods no! He is nothing more than a pawn in a far bigger plan than he realizes. His simple mind was far too easy to take, and his initial protection over you was easy to nurture into an infatuation and an unhealthy obsession.” He looks over at you, a smile on his face.

“And you, my dear, are going to be my greatest piece yet. His obsession will be not only the downfall of the Kingdoms, but also of you. He will be your undoing. Because in his mind, if he cannot have you, then nobody else can.” He straightens up and walks over to the wardrobe, pulling off his cloak and hanging it up.

“It’s unfortunate, really, because you are quite beautiful. Beauty is something that shouldn’t be wasted. But I suppose they’ll write sonnets and ballads about how ‘your beauty was what brought the kingdoms to ash’.” You struggle against your bonds, wanting nothing more than to take the knife strapped to your thigh and slash his throat with it.

“You will never get away with this! The Kings are far too smart. They’ll see right through your disguises.” He chuckles and turns to you, arms crossed over his chest.

“There’s a magic in this world, girl. One that you could not even begin to understand. The Kings are nothing more than mortal men. They will succumb to the powers I wield and they will burn, with you alongside them.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes raking over your face.

“But perhaps I need to have my own turn with you. Experience you both inside and out.” You shiver in disgust, pushing yourself as far back on the bed as you can.

The door creaks and the two of you look to the sound, the trickster backing up a step before vanishing into thin air, leaving you alone with the newcomer.

“I do hope you'll pardon my absence,” Thor says timidly, raking a hand through his hair and shutting the door behind himself.

“I had hoped to spend more time with you, however the duties of a King need to be fulfilled.” You say nothing, Loki’s words ringing over and over again in your ears.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t realize he’s climbed onto the bed until his large hands are pushing your knees apart.

“W-wait no!” An idea bubbles into your mind and you speak before you have time to second-guess yourself.

“If you truly wish for me to enjoy our time together, you must release me from my bonds! Do not take me the way the other Kings have. Please. You say you love me, then release me so that I too may enjoy it.” His face softens and he nods, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek before reaching around your back to yank the rope off of you.

“It was never my intention to bind you, sweet flower. But Loki insisted. He said that you couldn’t be trusted and I... I believed him. Please forgive me, my love.” He takes your hands in his so gently, so much love and affection behind his actions, and you find yourself feeling sorry for the man.

Beneath the pity is an anger. Anger at Loki for putting not only Thor through this, but for tormenting you with the knowledge that his love is not real. Nothing more than a facade.

“Thor... how much do you trust your brother?” The blond looks confused by the question and takes a moment to ponder it before answering.

“I... well... Loki and I have not always seen eye to eye. But within the past few months he has come around and been more present. All I’ve ever wanted was for my brother to feel at home in his kingdom. He believes himself to be shunned, an outcast, but he is my brother and I love him dearly. It pains me to see him shut himself away, but now he’s opening back up. And I do think that there is hope for us yet.” Your heart cracks at this.

“But enough about him. This should be about us. You and me, my dear.” His lips are then on your neck, hips pushing between your thighs and big body holding you down against the mattress.

Once again, you find yourself pinned beneath a man with no hope of escaping.

Well... almost no hope.

You swallow back the bile in your throat and seek out his lips, kissing him fiercely while your hands grasp at his shoulders.

He pulls away after a moment, yanking his tunic above his head and grinning down at you.

“Eager, are we?” You nod, fingers trailing over his sculpted torso.

He is a beautiful specimen, and it pains you to do what you’re doing.

“My King,” you whisper, back arching as he kisses over your neck once again. He hums, waiting for you to speak.

“May I ride you?” The words are whispered, barely breathed in the warm air of the room, but they elicit a growl from the man above you.

Your positions are flipped in an instant, you straddling the blond man while he lays comfortably below you.

His hands find your hips while your own shaky fingers pull his manhood from his trousers.

A groan leaves his lips at the feeling of your soft hands against his hot length, and your eyes flash up to his face.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and in that moment you realize it’s now or never.

One hand stays on his length, stroking gently, while the other reaches to the dagger strapped on your inner thigh.

You don’t need to kill him, only to incapacitate him long enough for you to escape.

Disguising the motion as you simply moving your skirts out of the way, you grind your teeth together and squeeze your eyes shut.

The blade is raised high above your head, and then with all your might, you slam it down into his abdomen.

He lurches forward, eyes popping open in shock as you yank the blade back out and stumble off the bed.

His face contorts with first confusion, then betrayal, and pain following.

“Why?” His voice is a broken whisper, but you don’t dwell on it. Instead, you rise to your feet and sprint out of his chambers, bloody knife still held tightly in your grasp.

You can hear him behind you, grunting with pain as he moves through his chambers then stumbles through the doorway, but you’re already far enough ahead to create a scene if need be.

You cut through the gardens, grabbing your skirts and hiking them up above your knees to give you more room to run.

Your shoulder connects with the familiar door of safety, and you stumble inside, shaking hands dropping both your skirts and the blade onto the floor.

“(Y/n)?!” James and Steve rush over to you quickly, inspecting your body for any wounds.

“I-It’s Thor! And Loki! Loki’s behind all of it and he has Thor trapped under a curse of some kind! I do not know what he has told you, but he was posing as me and you must believe me!” You’re near hysterical, knowing that if they don’t believe you then you’ll be sent straight back into the hands of the King.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Steve asks.

“Loki is a sorcerer. A powerful one. H-he posed as me and no doubt came to the two of you. I can only imagine the lies he spewed. He means to overthrow the kingdoms and he has Thor under-” The door gets pushed open, the man in question looking around frantically until his eyes fall upon your figure.

“Ah, there you are. You needn’t be afraid, my love. I know it was only an accident.” He’s got one of his hands pressed against the gaping wound in his abdomen, the other reaching out for you.

“No!” You cry, near ready to pull your hair out.

James pushes you behind his back, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at the King.

“You will not take another step, do you understand? We can discuss this like men, not fight about it like boys.” Thor blinks a few times, eyes darting between you and your husbands.

“Very well.” He straightens up, face perfectly political.

“I would like you to hand over my wife, or I will kill her where she stands. If I cannot have her, then nobody can.”

366 notes · View notes

kellyvela · 3 years

Note

Hi! I wanted to ask you something. Jon and Sansa thinking about having children and having domestic life with their respective partners is a strong foreshadowing for jonsa. Then there was Jeyne W who also told Cat that Robb was going to name their firstborn after Ned. While Robb is dead, it's not sure if jeyne is pregnant. Sansa didn't married to Willas and Jon will not gonna steal Val. Do you think it's foreshadowing something?

Before actually answering your question, I think we can't compare Robb and Jeyne, who willingly married, actively tried to have a baby, and were arguably in love, to Sansa and Willas (they never met, they never married, they weren't in love), and Jon and Val (they never had sex, they never married, they weren't in love).

Also, while having the wish to name their children after their late father and siblings, Sansa couldn't stop thinking about Loras, not Willas; and Jon wished Ygritte were alive so he could marry her instead of Val.

And Loras is a stand in for Jon the same way Ygritte is an stand in for Sansa.

. . .

"A king must have an heir."

Jeyne Westerling told Catelyn that Robb was going to name their firstborn after Ned???

Are you talking about this passage???

"Jeyne," she called after, "there's one more thing Robb needs from you, though he may not know it yet himself. A king must have an heir."

The girl smiled at that. "My mother says the same. She makes a posset for me, herbs and milk and ale, to help make me fertile. I drink it every morning. I told Robb I'm sure to give him twins. An Eddard and a Brandon. He liked that, I think. We . . . we try most every day, my lady. Sometimes twice or more." The girl blushed very prettily. "I'll be with child soon, I promise. I pray to our Mother Above, every night."

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn III

Because it was Jeyne who told Catelyn that she (Jeyne) was sure to give Robb twins to be named Eddard and Brandon, and that she thought Robb liked her idea (Jeyne's idea).

We don't know if Jeyne Westerling was, at some point, pregnant or not.

With all the Tully super fertility references, Jeyne could have been pregnant, but, as you can read in the quote above, her mother Sybell Spicer was giving her an abortifacient all the time, and sadly, that's what happened to Lysa Tully in the past... That's why a guilty Hoster Tully repeats "Tansy" in his sickbed several times, since "Tansy" was an ingredient of the abortifacient that Lysa took all those years ago...

The Lannister not only plotted to kill the King in the North, but also to prevent that said king have an heir... Sybell Spicer and the abortifacient were part of the plot.

And if there was still the slightest chance that Jeyne was pregnant with Robb Stark's heir, the Lannister would not hesitate to kill the unborn child and the mother, if necessary.

Actually, I'm afraid that in the next Book Jeyne Westerling will die anyway...

Now, Robb also used the same phrase "A king must have an heir." while later talking with Catelyn about the North's Succession, and guess who were the ones actively mentioned during that conversation? Any thoughts?

The answering is, a "Lady Lannister" (lol) and a "bastard Snow". Let's see:

"I had hoped to leave Jeyne with child . . . we tried often enough, but I'm not certain . . ."

"It does not always happen the first time." Though it did with you. "Nor even the hundredth. You are very young."

"Young, and a king," he said. "A king must have an heir. If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her." His mouth tightened. "To her, and her lord husband. Tyrion Lannister. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. That dwarf must never have the north."

"No," Catelyn agreed. "You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son." She considered a moment. "Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest . . . it might have been a Templeton, but . . ."

“Mother.” There was a sharpness in Robb’s tone. “You forget. My father had four sons.”

She had not forgotten; she had not wanted to look at it, yet there it was. “A Snow is not a Stark.”

“Jon’s more a Stark than some lordlings from the Vale who have never so much as set eyes on Winterfell.”

“Jon is a brother of the Night’s Watch, sworn to take no wife and hold no lands. Those who take the black serve for life.”

“So do the knights of the Kingsguard. That did not stop the Lannisters from stripping the white cloaks from Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Boros Blount when they had no more use for them. If I send the Watch a hundred men in Jon’s place, I’ll wager they find some way to release him from his vows.”

He is set on this. Catelyn knew how stubborn her son could be. “A bastard cannot inherit.”

“Not unless he’s legitimized by a royal decree,” said Robb. “There is more precedent for that than for releasing a Sworn Brother from his oath.”

“Precedent,” she said bitterly. “Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again. Should he wed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe.”

“Jon would never harm a son of mine.”

“No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?”

Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer’s crypt, his teeth bared. Robb’s own face was cold. “That is as cruel as it is unfair. Jon is no Theon.”

“So you pray. Have you considered your sisters? What of their rights? I agree that the north must not be permitted to pass to the Imp, but what of Arya? By law, she comes after Sansa … your own sister, trueborn …”

“… and dead. No one has seen or heard of Arya since they cut Father’s head off. Why do you lie to yourself? Arya’s gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they’ll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. Jon is the only brother that remains to me. Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed me as King in the North. I had hoped you would support my choice.”

“I cannot,” she said. “In all else, Robb. In everything. But not in this … this folly. Do not ask it.”

“I don’t have to. I’m the king.” Robb turned and walked off, Grey Wind bounding down from the tomb and loping after him.

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

As you can see from the quote above, Robb and Catelyn were pushing to prevent Sansa or Jon from inheriting Winterfell and the North after Robb. For Robb, the problem was that Sansa was "Lady Lannister," and for Catelyn, the problem was that Jon was a bastard "Snow," and a brother of the Night's Watch.

Ironically, Robb ended up losing Winterfell and the North, and it will be precisely Sansa (the Lannister by marriage) and Jon (the bastard Snow) the ones retaking the ancestral seat and all the lands of House Stark, and I suspect they will do it together.

Indeed, Robb and Catelyn's conversation is also very telling because Robb said: "By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her". But since Sansa was married to Tyrion Lannister, Robb had to name another heir, Jon.

Robb's reasoning is a contrast to Jon's reaction to the offer of getting Winterfell and the North. Stannis Baratheon used the same argument (Sansa's marriage to Tyrion Lannister) to convince Jon to accept his offer to become a legitimized Stark and Lord of Winterfell, Stannis even called Sansa “Lady Lannister”, but no matter what, Jon didn’t accept Stannis's offer.

And what was Jon's answer?

“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV

Beautiful, isn't it?

And Jon and Sansa could also produce a new generation of Starks, honoring their late relatives by naming their children Eddard, Robb and Catelyn, the ones that are actually dead, because fortunately Arya, Bran and Rickon are still alive, even if Jon and Sansa believe they are all dead.

She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Be still my beating heart!

. . .

So if you're wondering if the sad fate of Jeyne Westerling and Robb, who had a similar wish to Sansa and Jon's wishes, to name their children after their late father and siblings, could mean something negative for Jon and Sansa in the future. The answer is no.

#anon asks #jonsa

90 notes · View notes

littlegnoblin · 3 years

Text

Happy Valentine’s Day to my best friend and other half @donestiel

read on ao3

Dean comes home from work to find Cas and Jack sitting at the table, red heart-shaped lollipops strewn in front of them.

He gives Cas a quick kiss. “You trying to give the kid a sugar rush or what?”

“Daddy! It’s for Valemtime’s Day!” Jack yells excitedly, hopping off his chair to hug Dean’s legs.

“It’s pronounced valentine, Jack.”

“I don’t know, valemtime kinda has a nice ring to it,” Dean says. Jack beams up at him and he can’t help but ruffle his hair.

“Yes, well, the holiday has become so bastardized that I suppose renaming it wouldn’t hurt.” Cas squints at the box the candy came in. “Does no one find it odd that their children are passing around cards demanding others belong to them?”

Dean sits down and pulls Jack into his lap, flipping through the little pink cards. “I don’t know that you’re supposed to think about it that hard, dude.” He comes across a card that reads ‘kiss me’ and holds it up. “This, on the other hand-- they’re five, what the hell do they need to be kissin’ for?”

“I want kisses!” Jack protests.

“You’re a little kiss monster.” Cas leans in and presses a big, exaggerated smooch to Jack’s cheek. “How was that? Did it satisfy the beast?”

Jack giggles and nods enthusiastically.

“Hey, I’m gonna need to sample one of those kisses myself. Make sure they’re regulation-- standard procedure.”

“Is that right?”

“‘Fraid so,” Dean says with a shit eating grin.

He’s expecting a goofy kiss like the one he gave Jack but Cas uses his thumb to tilt Dean’s chin just so and kisses him deeply.

They break apart when two tiny hands push at their faces and Jack tells them to knock it off.

“This is what Valentine’s Day is all about, champ. Besides, I thought you liked kisses.”

“You guys do it gross.”

Dean smiles and bounces his eyebrows at Cas, who rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small curl of his mouth.

“Perhaps your father will help you write your classmates’ names on the cards while I get dinner ready.”

“I can cook,” Dean says quickly. The thought of Cas’ last attempt at cooking has his stomach churning and he’s pretty sure feeding that toxic waste to Jack would be considered child abuse.

Cas holds up a cardboard box. “It’s frozen pizza.”

“Alright, I’ll do babysitting duty. Just make sure you take the plastic off this time.”

“It’s not babysitting when it’s your own child and that was one time.”

“One time too many,” Dean mutters.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing, dear.”

Cas glares at him. “I expect you to eat a healthy portion of salad along with your pizza tonight.”

“You making it yourself or is it bagged?”

The glare intensifies.

Jack tugs on his sleeve. “Daddy, did you like doing valentine’s stuff in school?”

“Nah, it, uh-- it wasn’t really a thing when I was your age.”

That’s a blatant lie but Dean’s not going to tell him the truth and bum him out. What five year old wants to hear that their dad didn’t do Valentine’s Day exchanges because there was barely enough money for food, let alone candy, and he never really stuck around any school long enough to get included in the holiday stuff. Shit’s depressing.

“So you never got no cards or nothin’?”

“Nope.” Dean never got cards but he did get invited under the bleachers a few times in high school to unwrap a different kind of present. He’s not telling him that either, though.

“That sucks. Can I have a lollipop?”

“Nice try, kid.” Dean taps on the card in front of them. “Get to writing.”

He oversees the careful labelling of the cards, reminding Jack to double check the list of names anytime he spells something wrong and corrects a few backwards letters. They debate who gets what card and Jack complains that he has to give one to Tom who keeps cutting him in line.

Cas rejoins them in the middle of Jack’s impassioned rant, hiding his smile behind his hand.

“While I agree that Tom is a-- what was it you called him?”

“A butthead.”

“Yes, right, a butthead. While I agree he is a butthead, unfortunately I think you need to be the bigger person. Maybe this will even convince him to stop cutting in line and you two can be friends.”

“No way. I don’t wanna be friends with Tom.”

“You never know,” Dean says. “I didn’t like your dad when we first met, but I think he’s a pretty okay guy now.”

Jack looks at him wide eyed. “You didn’t like Daddy?”

“No way, he was a butthead.”

“It was more of a misunderstanding,” Cas explains.

“Oh is that what we’re calling it?”

Cas lifts an eyebrow and stares him down. “What would you call it, Dean?”

Shit, that should not be so hot.

“Not the point; the point is that I didn’t think I would ever like your dad and now we’re married. Things change.”

Jack furrows his brows, considering. “I don’t want to marry Tom.”

Dean snorts. “You don’t have to. In fact, please don’t. His mom is a nightmare.” Cas kicks him under the table. “What! She is!”

“You don’t have to marry him and you don’t have to be friends with him,” Cas says, ignoring Dean completely, “but you do have to give him a card and some candy.”

Jack grumbles but does as he’s told. Dean’s legs are starting to fall asleep but he’s become increasingly aware of how fast Jack is growing up and soon-- way too fucking soon, if you ask him-- he won’t be sitting in his lap at all so he silently resigns to not feeling his legs for the next ten minutes.

“All done!” Jack yells and throws his hands in the air.

“Sweet, now let's stick some candy in these bad boys and call it a night.”

“Wait, there’s a extra, what should I do with it?”

“Is there anyone who’s not in your class that you’d like to give a valentine to?”

Jack gasps and slaps a hand over Dean’s eyes, nearly poking one out in the process. “Close your eyes, Daddy!”

Dean dutifully closes his eyes until Jack tells him he’s finished. He slowly opens one eye and sees the pink card held about an inch from his face.

“For me?” he gasps dramatically.

“Yes!”

The front of the card reads ‘You’re the best!’ and when he opens it, he finds ‘Daddy’ written in some of the neatest handwriting from Jack he’s ever seen. Beneath it he’s signed his name, the K backwards like it always is on his first try.

“I gave it to you because you never had one before and also you’re the best daddy ever, who makes me yummy chocolate chip pancakes and cheeseburgers and does funny voices for bedtime stories,” Jack explains.

Dean wraps his arms around his son and rests his cheek on top of his head, his heart feeling fit to burst. “Thank you, Jack. I’m gonna keep this forever.” And he means it.

“Welcome. Can I have a lollipop now?”

Cas points at Dean. “He gets that from you.”

After the valentines are carefully put away and they’ve had dinner (plastic free and edible, which Cas seems proud of), Jack gets a bath and is tucked in bed. Dean and Cas spend the rest of the night sprawled out on the couch watching reruns of Doctor Sexy and drinking beer. Party city.

When the Doctor Sexy reruns switch to Jeopardy, Dean knows it’s officially midnight.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess.”

They tip their bottles together.

“I hope I didn’t disappoint you by not planning anything,” Cas says, picking at the label on his beer.

“What? No, of course not. We never do anything. I thought we were on the same page about avoiding that shit after our first Valentine’s together.”

They both shudder thinking about the sweaty cupid ‘handshake’.

“We are, but we never actually discussed it and I…” Cas pauses and tilts his head. “I think having Jack around and seeing the world through his eyes, experiencing things in a new way, it makes me wonder if we’re not missing out on some of the little things.”

“Hey, we appreciate lots of the little things-- like you not cooking frozen pizza with the plastic still on.”

“Dean.”

“Okay, okay. So you sayin’ you wanna celebrate now?”

“Sam and Eileen do.”

“Sam and Eileen are saps. And they don’t have a five year old running around.”

Cas makes a sound of agreement and softly strokes the back of Dean’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. “You make a fair point. In all honesty, I don’t want to do anything extravagant but I would like to take the opportunity to remind you how much I love you. Am I allowed to be sappy for a moment?”

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah, I guess you deserve one day to get it all out.” He puts their bottles down and faces his husband. “Lay it on me, big guy.”

Instead of looking annoyed, Cas just looks fond. “You know, it’s ironic that a man as full of love as you are is so quick to dismiss any sentimentality. You are a fascinating creature.” A thumb sweeps under his eye where he’s got permanent dark circles and settles at the corner where his lines get deeper every day. It makes Dean want to squirm but he holds still under the reverent touch. “Perhaps that’s why I never stood a chance.”

“C’mon, man,” Dean says, dropping his eyes to the couch.

“Hush, I’m allowed, I’ll have you know. My husband gave me explicit permission.”

“Well, your husband is thinking about rescinding the offer.”

“I love you.”

Cas says it with such conviction that Dean can’t help but look back at him, at his bright eyes and soft smile; at the evidence of his love written all over his face.

“I love you, endlessly, Dean Winchester. For everything that you are; the good and the bad. From the moment I saw your soul in hell, so bright it was almost blinding, I knew I would never be the same. You breathed life into me, gave me meaning and purpose, taught me the value of love, and you did it all, selflessly, simply by being the man that you are.” Cas draws him close, presses their foreheads together. “I can never give back all that you’ve given me but I promise you will have my love until we are nothing but a forgotten memory, and longer still.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and they breath together in the small space between them.

“You can’t-- you can’t just say shit like that,” he whispers.

“And why not?”

“Because it’s not true, first of all.” Cas opens his mouth to argue but Dean covers it with his hand and hurries on. “You’ve already given all of that back and more. God, Cas, if it weren’t for you I’d have been dead years ago. I needed to stick around-- to take care of Sammy, to stop whatever or whoever was trying to end the world next-- but you… you made me want to live. Really live, not just survive, you know? I fuckin’ love you, man.”

Cas pushes Dean’s hand away and presses his lips against Dean’s fervently.

When they finally break apart for desperately needed air, they both pretend they aren’t sniffling like little girls.

“You happy now? Can we go back to not doing this?”

Cas laughs. “I hadn’t planned on making it quite so emotional, I apologize. You always bring out the most in me.”

“Ugh, enough,” Dean groans, shoving Cas’ smiling face away. “You aren’t allowed to say anything even approaching romantic for the next twenty four hours, capiche?”

“I can agree to that, as long as I’m allowed to give you a gift later.”

“I thought you said you didn’t plan anything?”

“It’s nothing big.” Cas’ fingers sneak under Dean’s shirt and trail along his stomach, dipping to his waistband. “I just happened to walk by Victoria’s Secret and see a pair of pink satin panties in the window.”

Dean’s heart beats a little faster. “Oh yeah?” he says breathlessly. “Not gonna lie, that seems more like a present for you.”

Cas hums and leans over Dean, forcing him to lie back on the couch. “Well then I suppose I’ll just have to do whatever you want while you wear them.”

When he kisses him he tastes like cherry candy and Dean thinks could learn to like this holiday.

#spn #destiel #deancas #bend-me-shape-me #sweatercas #rambleoncas #acklesy #alivedean #userpris #usersila #goodthingsclara #shelikestv #hope you guys dont mind me tagging you!!!#sarah writes

197 notes · View notes

write-ur-wrongs · 4 years

Text

Thank you sweet anon for your request!! Again, I didn’t fully proof-read this bad boy so please forgive the errors! I hope you enjoy some angry Jealous!Geralt!

A/N Request: Geralt meeting your ex who thinks that you're still together/or tries to get you back in front of geralt?

The great hall was alive with royals and nobility alike. Laughter and chatter mingled easily with the sound of the band’s lively jig and the soft tinkering of fine cutlery.

The hosts had expected you and Geralt to make an appearance at dusk, but neither of you were particularly fond of all the fuss royalty liked to put up, so it wasn’t until long past sunset that you joined the party. Jaskier on the other hand, was overjoyed at the prospect of attending such an illustrious affair. He’d put up a fuss around noon and insisted he be allowed to take Roach so that he could arrive in time to make a strong impression with all in attendance. Of course, Geralt had refused, so he had gone off on foot, strutting and sighing dramatically.

Now, as you and Geralt did your best to navigate the already flushed crowd, you found yourself wishing you’d arrived sooner. It was easier to avoid people when they were being stifled by a sobering social awkwardness; after hours of ales and fine wine, however, people seemed to get a little too comfortable for your liking.

“I hate these ridiculous evenings,” Geralt grumbled, holding his arms close to his body uncomfortably.

“Maybe if we saved less lives,” you said, biting back a smile, “they’d be less inclined to insist we attend.”

Geralt only responded with a grunt and a roll of his eyes, which made you laugh lightly as you looped your arm through his and led him deeper into the crowd.

“C’mon love,” you said, a slight tease to your tone, “let’s find the free food and drink we were promised, yeah?”

You laughed again as he fought back a smile. “Atta boy Geralt, don’t smile too much or you’ll ruin your reputation as the big bad wolf.”

“Will you shut up,” he muttered, handing you a goblet of wine.

“I don’t think I will,” you said downing the wine in one go, “and could you hand me an ale?”

“I don’t think I will,” he teased, kissing your temple lightly before handing you his mug to share. You take a slow sip, your eyes twinkling as you held Geralt’s gaze, already feeling the liquor warming you from the inside. You hand him back his drink and kiss him lightly in thanks.

“Do you want to –”

You were both pulled away from your conversation by a loud clang from across the room. Geralt furrowed his brows and turned towards the sound quickly, untangling his arm from yours before reaching for his sword. He immediately relaxed as the familiar shouts and accusations resounded through the hall.

You collectively sighed your frustration as you saw Jaskier get chased into a corner by an angry nobleman; no doubt his latest conquest’s husband, who was not quite as pleased to hear the bard’s dulcet tones.

“It’s your turn,” Geralt said, downing his ale before reaching for a second helping.

“I don’t think so! I’m the one who saved him from that fisherman at the last village! It’s your turn,” you said, poking him in the chest before stealing his mug and holding it away from him.

“Actually,” he said, his low gravelly voice reverberating through you as he leaned across your body to grab his drink from your hand, “it was my turn at the last village, but you just couldn’t help yourself and jumped in to save the day. Rules are rules my dove; it’s your turn.”

You scoffed incredulously at his nerve, but shook your head in resignation; he was right after all, the rules you outlined were clear and the cycling of turns was strict.

“Well fuck. I’m taking this ale though,” you said, clapping him on the shoulder before stalking off towards the commotion.

Geralt chuckled lowly and leaned against a marble pillar, marveling at the way you made your way through the crowd. A wandering waiter came by and offered him another ale which he accepts with a polite smile, not taking his eyes off you.

He loved watching you de-escalate social situations. Sometimes it was comforting to know that he wasn’t the only one who just melted when you spoke to them directly – you were effortlessly charming and completely disarming. You once managed to convince a band of attacking thieves to stand down so efficiently that by the end of the night, they ended up joining you for dinner around the fire. Yes, Geralt was the professional when it came to handling monsters, but you were the people person of the group.

Watching you now was no exception. Your body language, the way your warm smiled reached your eyes with ease, how smoothly you managed put yourself between Jaskier and the furious man; it was impressive to say the least.

Unfortunately, his attention was pulled away from you suddenly.

“I can’t believe Y/N is here tonight, I thought I’d never see her again!”

At the sound of your name, Geralt whipped his head in the direction of the speaker, cat-like eyes scanning the crowd swiftly.

“Yeah, the very same Y/N I’ve told you about. An amazing lay, I swear it!”

The man in question was holding court half a dozen other knights; they kept snickering and looking off at you in turns. They were teasing him, egging him on for details.

“She’s not as sweet as she looks,” the man stated confidently, “don’t let that smile fool you gentlemen. The last time I took her was in an alley! The little whore was mad for it – couldn’t wait for it, needed it right there and then.”

Geralt was fuming.

He pushed his way through the crowd with great force and little care. He was worried about your honour. Your reputation in the courts – that was all. That was enough to explain the way rage seethed through him and the strange urge to be sick that was hitting him in waves. He was concerned for you as a partner and a friend.

He wasn’t jealous.

“Gods her skin… smelled so good, felt even better… I’m getting her back tonight gents,” he boasted, puffing out his chest.

“You don’t have a chance,” said the knight closest to the bastard bragging about shagging you, “it’s been ages since you’ve last seen each other, and if she’s as good as you say, she definitely found someone new.”

Damn right, Geralt thought furiously, swallowing the bile bubbling at the back of his throat.

“No, no, believe me the way she mewled and screamed for me? She’ll do more than remember,” he said, disgusting confidence dripping off every word, “she’ll beg to have me back.”

You’ll beg for mercy when I crush your fucking skull you pathetic –

His murderous march was abruptly interrupted by Jaskier. The bard cut in front of him and planted himself squarely before him, chattering on incomprehensibly.

Geralt’s eyes were bugging out in panic as he watched the bastard strut confidently towards you. He tried to push past Jaskier but the bard was quick to match him in posture.

“Look I know you’re upset with me for ruining your evening but she came after me,” he insisted, “I mean I can’t blame her the song his perhaps my most romantic sonnet. Speaking of my writing – Geralt can you look at me when I am sharing my musings with you, please? Thank you – as I was saying, Y/N inspired me tonight to write this song –”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, “move!”

“Wha – why?” Jaskier pivoted on the spot – keeping Geralt’s path blocked – as he sought the source of his friends’ fury. When he saw that you were speaking politely to some knight he scoffed loudly before turning back.

“Oh-ho, no,” he laughed, “you’re jealous of that oaf? Geralt, seriously?”

“I am not jealous,” he spat, only able to look at Jaskier for a moment before his glare shot back up towards you.

“She’s just being polite! Seriously you always assume the worst in people, Geralt, it’s sad.”

“I see people as they are,” he muttered, watching closely as the knight took a half-step towards you, he let out a menacing growl when you didn’t step backwards. “For what they are.”

“Okay then why can’t you see that’s just some poor sap who, I don’t know, maybe wants to thank Y/N for her help in saving this kingdom.”

“Shut up, will you? I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.”

“You don’t need a Witchers’ hearing to know what’s happening over there,” he brambled on putting on voices as he acted out the conversation, “’Hi I’m Y/N’, ‘Hi I’m an unimportant but very grateful knight, pleased to meet you blah blah blah…”

“Fuck, Jaskier, shut UP –” he stopped himself when he heard your laugh, the deep full laugh you normally reserved for him.

Jaskier heard your laugh too, and turned his head to double check he’d heard right. When he saw the familiar twinkle in your eye, he looked Geralt with wide eyes.

“They know each other?” he asked.

“They,” he started, struggling to get the words out, “t-they knew each other.”

“Wait you don’t mean,” Jaskier started, connecting the dots, “that they knew each other intimately?” He wagged his fingers suggestively as he said the last word.

When Geralt’s only reply was a low, seething hum, Jaskier whistled lowly before shaking his head.

“Well that explains,” he waved his hands vaguely at Geralt, “this reaction.”

Geralt was about to shove the bard aside when he saw you waving him over. You were smiling widely as you waved, but it didn’t reach your eyes. He cleared his throat and pushed Jaskier lightly before charging towards you with the bard in tow.

“Ah, finally!” you exclaimed, swiftly wrapping your arms around his bicep, pulling him close, “Geralt, I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Hoeck. Hoeck this is Geralt, my partner,” as you spoke, you moved to loop his arm around your waist, “and this is Jaskier, he’s responsible for the wonderful music tonight.”

“The White Wolf,” said Hoek, sizing Geralt up, “wow - what an honour.”

He hummed in acknowledgement and took the knight’s hand in a tight grip, feeling immense satisfaction watching the man wince.

“And -erm, thank you sir Jaskier, for the wonderful music,” he said, trying and failing to subtly rub at his hand.

“Thank you, good sir. I speaking of, I should get back out there.” He shot you and Geralt a look and swung his lute around his back before strumming a few notes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You all nodded to him as he strode off, beckoning the band to join him.

An awkward silence settled over the three of you. Geralt was clearly seething as he held your waist in a tighter grasp than necessary. After a beat, you shot Hoek a tight-lipped smile and made up some excuse about needing to say hello to the king and queen before the night came to a close.

“Ah certainly,” he said, disappointment obvious, “well if you ever find yourself in need of company –”

“I won’t,” you said quickly.

“She won’t,” Geralt growled, his deep voice overlapping with yours.

At that, the knight swallowed thickly and walked back towards his group with tail between his legs and his hand held close to his chest.

Once alone, you turned in Geralt’s arms and looked up at his sour face accusingly.

“Why did it take you so long to come rescue me!” you said, tugging playfully at his hair.

“Didn’t look like you wanted to be saved,” he said lowly, eyes still alight with jealousy, “and Jaskier got in my way.”

“That’s a shit excuse and a weak lie. He was all over me! It took all I had not to rip the bastard’s arms off!” you said, a nervous laugh bubbling out of you. “Gods he has some nerve.”

“Hm,” he hissed, “you’re right about that.”

“Geralt,” you looked up at him carefully and gently caressed the crease between his brows, “this is more than jealousy. What’s going on?”

Geralt hesitated before relaxing his face into your hand and took a small sigh. “It’s nothing. And I’m not jealous.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, “Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, he brought his eyes down to meet yours.

“Thank you,” you said, cupping his face before moving your hands to rest on his chest, “can you talk to me?”

“Don’t be patronizing,” he warned.

“Don’t be obstinate,” you countered.

Geralt rolled his eyes at you before pulling you closer to him. “Maybe I was a little jealous, and maybe,” he sighed deeply, “I was a little worried.”

“Geralt,” you started, your heart breaking at the sight of him, “you have nothing to worry about when it comes to us. I need you to know that.”

“I do,” he said quietly, “but the way he was talking about you – knowing he had been with you in that way...” Geralt stopped himself as he felt his anger come roaring back at the memory. “I wanted to kill him.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have been upset with you if you had,” you said, jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little. Your time with Hoek was beyond brief; he was nice enough at first but quickly he became aggressive and possessive. You couldn’t help but cringe when you looked back on your time together and you hated that your beloved witcher was letting this get to him.

“Oh, Geralt,” you murmured when you realized he wasn’t letting up, “I’m yours. Completely and unwaveringly yours.” You kissed his forehead, then his nose, and finally his lips.

He kissed you back slowly at first, but his kiss deepened as you leaned into him. Geralt pulled away just a little and rested his forehead against yours.

“Y/N… I’m – I love you so much…” he whispered, “it’s just… the things he said about you –” he started, hating himself for needing to hear your side of the story.

“Either untrue or exaggerated, that I can promise.”

“Something about an alley…?” Geralt asked, holding his breath.

“Oh ew! That was a terrible night,” you shuddered, “he was so insistent! Wouldn’t take no for an answer – Wait, what was he saying about it? Gods, maybe I’ll kill him.” Anger and humiliation burned at the back of your throat.

Seeing your visceral reaction, Geralt was immediately overcome by feelings of guilt, for making you relive the memory, relief, that your reaction was so negative, and rage, knowing that not only did this pompous ass make forceful advances on you but he always lied about it to a crowd.

Feeling the intensity of your anger radiating off you, Geralt was about to suggest that the two of you left before you did anything you’d regret when Jaskier came running through the crowd shouting that it was time to leave.

You took off running behind the bard, holding Geralt’s hand tightly as you raced down the castle’s corridors.

“Why are we running?” you shouted, a little breathless.

“I might have added a little something to our charming friend’s drink, and he might be having a very intense negative reaction to it!” he said over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed through fits of laughter, “Jaskier!”

“He’ll be fine! Eventually!” he added, he turned and ran backwards so he could shoot you a wink before adding, “No one messes with our girl, right Geralt?”

Geralt rolled his eyes at his friend before he ran up behind you and scooped you up bridal-style – all without breaking his stride.

“Damn right,” he said, smiling widely at Jaskier before planting a quick kiss to your temple.

#geralt of rivia #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #the witcher #the witcher netflix #jealous!geralt #request #fanfic #fanfiction #witcher fic #witcher geralt #witcher x reader #jaskier

458 notes · View notes