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nebulaafterdark · 1 year

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Dearest Love

Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon and Y/N are newly married and thus they must begin producing heirs. Set before the ‘More Than Anyone’ series. Inspired by @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

Warning: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY! Targcest, mentions of sex.

“That was a heavy sigh, sweetheart.” Aegon chuckles as his wife turns away from him. “You reached your peak, did you not?”

“I am not yet with child.”

“Mmm, and I have been doing my best to remedy that.”

“What if I am barren?”

“You are not,” Aegon scoffs. “Ripe little thing, you are. If it is either of us, it must be me.”

“They will blame me.” Y/N murmurs.

“Who, my darling?” He demands, using his arms to reel her back in. “Who will blame you? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You do not understand the pressure that I am under to produce an heir.” She begins anxiously toying with his fingers.

He does not understand, they’ve been married but a moon turn, almost two.

“Sweet girl,” he frowns, nuzzling the side of her face. “If it does not take, there are other things we might try.”

“Like what?” The princess wonders, smushing their cheeks together.

“Never you worry about that, hmm? I will give you a babe, as many as you want. As many as you’ll give me, but you must settle down.”

“I am settled.”

“Even your cunny was tense.”

“Aegon,” Y/N whines, covering both hands over her face.

“None of that,” he chuckles, feeling himself harden again. Sliding into her slick from behind, the pair on their sides. “You know I adore you.”

“Aegon,” she sighs, reaching back to stroke his hair.

“Try to enjoy yourself, dearest.” Aegon murmurs, “let us not make a chore of it. When you are with child I will want you still.”

“Will you?”

“Every morn, noon and night I will want you. I want you always.” One hand wanders down from her hip to her belly, stroking the warm skin there. “Soon you will swell with our child. So very soon. I swear it on all my love for you.”

Love, a frivolous endeavor, as Aegon had called it not so long ago, is now the currency which he swears by. Y/N nods, lacing their fingers together for just a moment before he is pulling away.

Bringing her leg backwards to rest over his hip. Fingers teasing her bundle of nerves once more. “Now-” her little cunt is sloppy, loud and hot as his earlier release lingers within, “be a good girl for me.” He keeps her full of his seed, fingers and cock. Determined to give her exactly what she wants.

News breaks over the next few weeks, the Princess Y/N is with child.

This update on his wife’s condition did not come through her, rather in passing during a visit to the silk streets. Aegon acts as if he is in the know, of course he knew, Y/N is his wife. The number of cups he consumes that night is more than he’s indulged in since the start of their union.

And when he returns that night, to crawl into Y/N’s bed, she welcomes him there. “You are in quite a state, my Prince.”

“You did not tell me.” He slurs the words out from where his head rests, cradled against her bosom.

“You were not here.” Y/N strokes a patient hand over his hair.

————————————————————————

Y/N grows quickly and the Maesters confirm that she is with more than one child. Likely no more than two, though they cannot say with certainty.

She is sick often, tired and moody, though she tries, Gods know how hard she tries.

“This is what you wanted, is it not?” Aegon asks, staring up at her over the tiny swell of her womb.

“This is what I wanted,” Y/N assures him.

Why then are you so unhappy?

In Aegon’s defense, he has no concept of what a marriage should be. Certainly no concept of how to properly love someone the way he loves his sweet wife.

“And now she draws away from my touch.” He cries into his cup. Entirely intoxicated as he lounges, nude in the lavish private room of the pleasure house. The women there please him greatly, repeatedly. Only nothing compares to the feeling of her.

“Oh, my Prince.” His lady of the night frowns. “Perhaps your wife is at war with herself.”

“In what way?” Aegon rolls onto his side to face the pretty blonde in which he attempts to drown his sorrow.

“She is with child. Tis not an easy task. The Princess might need a little…more from you in these times.”

“A gift!” Aegon suggests, “she might like a gift.”

“She might.” The woman agrees.

“Would you help me find something? Of course, something for you as well. For your troubles.” Aegon springs from the mattress, making for his clothes.

“You are half my troubles, your majesty.” There is no heat behind her words. “The sooner I return you to your bride, the sooner I can retire.”

————————————————————————-

Aegon presents Y/N with a necklace, the following night before supper. Nestled safely in a satin case.

“It’s beautiful.” Y/N breathes, tracing the chain with her finger.

“Would you like to wear it?” He cannot tell by the look on her face.

“Help me with the clasp?”

“Turn around, my love.” My dearest love. Aegon takes the necklace in hand. Waiting as she turns, then securing the gem in place.

“How does it look?” Y/N smiles, facing her husband as she strokes her thumb over the stone.

Don’t you know you hold the moon and stars in your eyes? “Perfect.” You are perfect.

She kisses him then, softly, sweetly on the mouth. “Thank you, Aegon. I love it.” I love you.

They join the rest of their family for dinner. Alicent taking note of her daughter-in-law’s jewelry. The way Aegon’s hand does not leave the tiny swell of her belly. They are in love. Head over heels, madly in love. So long as they are, only good will come of their union.

As Y/N grows, not much seems to fit her. Even her mother’s maternity dresses leave little breathing room and she is only two thirds through her term.

She cries often, so often that Aegon’s heart breaks with it. The heaviness of her sorrow. Though such is her duty and she does love the babes, more than she can say.

“This will be over soon, love. Our sweet babes will be in your arms.” Aegon soothes, holding her close, stroking dark hair with an affection learned just for her.

Y/N nods, sniffling as she clings to him. She is always hot or hungry or tired. So terribly tired.

“Tell me, sweet girl, what should you like to name our little dragons?” He wonders, stroking her belly to feel the tiny kicks there.

————————————————————————-

Y/N does not understand how or why Aegon is still attracted to her in this state. Not when he has prettier whores to bury his cock in. Even so, Y/N allows him to kiss and lick at her greedy little cunt anytime it pleases him.

“My only love,” he murmurs against her inner thigh. “My dearest love.”

And when he fucks her, so soft and sweet; Y/N has no choice but to believe that he loves her as much as he claims.

When they are finished, he breathes in deeply, his ever furrowed brows lulled to submission. Almost as if he were relieved.

“I do love you, Aegon.” Y/N whispers, “I love you with all my heart.”

————————————————————————

They spend days together strolling the garden, sharing secrets and stealing kisses.

At supper Aegon demands a cushion for his sweet love. The weight of their babes, push down on her back and hips. Y/N is terribly uncomfortable, even when she does not speak it, Aegon sees. Everyone sees.

“Make quick work of your food, darling.” Rhaenyra encourages, “so that you might retire early.”

Alicent bites her tongue. Though it is the King’s place to excuse the Princess and not Rhaenyra, she does not wish for Y/N to suffer.

Once Y/N and Aegon are finished, the Prince helps her to stand and when she does…

“What is it?” Aegon fusses about her, desperate to understand why all the blood has drained from her face.

“M-my waters.”

Everything moves out of time. Y/N is whisked away. Aegon is forbade from seeing her as she births their children. He remains close to the door of her chambers, wishing to hold her more than anything. To bring even an ounce of comfort to his wife, but it would be improper. And they must be respectful of tradition.

When the heart wrenching sound of Y/N’s cries begins to quiet, Aegon is informed that he has two daughters. Though his wife has yet to deliver the afterbirth, he forces himself to her side. Despite his mother’s warning.

The babes are perfect, being bathed softly by Y/N’s maid. The Maester working between her trembling knees.

“Y/N,” Aegon cups her cheek.

“Aegon.” She slurs, drunk on milk of the poppy, administered to stitch up where she’d torn.

“You did remarkably.” He kisses her sweat damp forehead.

“A son will be next,” Alicent assures her. They will have to try again.

If looks could kill, Alicent would have fallen over dead at the daggers Rhaenyra shoots her direction. Stroking her daughter’s dark hair affectionately.

Aegon waves his mother way. “Rest now, my dearest love.”

Moments later, when Y/N is long asleep, Aegon holds his daughters for the first time. One in each arm and neither of them cry. He does. Overcome with love for the tiny babes. When they do begin to fuss, Aegon hushes them. “Papa’s got you,” he rocks lightly, switching from foot to foot. “Papa’s here.”

He will never leave or shove them aside, never trade them for a thing in this world. He will be better than his own father. He will spend the rest of his life doting upon them and even still, they will never know how dearly they are loved.

#house of the dragon #hotd smut #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon ii #aegon targaryen smut #aegon the elder #aegon smut #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen fanfic

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fumekara · 3 months

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ALL THE THINGS I HAVE DONE (Final part)

SatoSugu x Gn reader

Plot: Your relationship with the strongest sorcerers in Japan was falling apart after they yelled at you and broke your heart.

n/a: English is not my first language, there will be a final part of this writing experiment, I am not very satisfied with how it came out. I know this is probably not the ending you were expecting.

Tw: A lot of angst, fluff, comfort, mention of sex, polyamorous relationship, mention of the death of one's pet, the reader has a cat, in this version Geto is a sorcerer.

If you are sensitive to mourning for your pets, do not interact with this fic.

WC: 2K

Click here for part 1 part2

You woke up blinded by the sunlight filtering through your bedroom window. Your eyes were swollen and sore from crying the night before. You felt a lack at the side of your bed and realized that Satoru and Suguru were not with you. Still groggy from waking up, you sat up and turned your attention to the bedside table to your left to check what time it was. You noticed, however, a glass of water, a muffin and a note with a message written on it that you were sure were not there the night before. You take the note in your hand and immediately recognise Suguru's handwriting.

We went out on an errand, we'll be back soon'.

Sighing, you brought the note to your face, as if trying to get something from it, like the warmth of the people who had cradled you and held you in their arms yesterday.

You didn't know where they might have gone, but you wanted to be with them, wanting to understand at all costs what would become of you from now on.

You had met the boys through Shoko, who was a close friend of yours in university days and had introduced you to her friends when you had all gone out together to celebrate your graduation. Although you were a bit shy at first and talked only to Shoko when you were sitting at a karaoke table, you managed to have a rather pleasant conversation with the two boys.

As time went by, you became more and more friendly with each other and went out more and more often with Gojo and Geto, even when Shoko wasn't with you, you enjoyed their company, you liked the fact that Gojo and Geto were so different, but still managed to find their stability in being together. They soon grew fond of you and began to be more open with you, their trust in you had strengthened and they showed genuine happiness in being with you. As a result, you could not help but have feelings for them, which gradually grew as your friendship continued.

You had become friends and remained friends even when Gojo and Geto got together. You knew it would happen sooner or later from the way they treated each other, plus you knew their history, since they had confided in you, during one of the evenings spent together watching movies, that they had been through a lot of bad times together. You were happy for them, really, but a part of you was unhappy that you could not be part of that unbreakable bond.

At the time you were living together, after graduation you had decided to look for a flat in Tokyo to start your career, and since they had a spare room at home, they offered to put you up.

You were sure you would only inconvenience the couple and didn't know what your life would be like knowing you were living under the same roof as them. You hadn't told anyone about your feelings for them, not even Shoko. They assured you that they would be happier to have you as a roommate and that you could never be a nuisance, since you were a close friend of theirs, and that they would never allow you to live in a dingy cheap flat until you finally settled down with your job.

And so you did, you went to live with them and were relieved that they both agreed to let you take Nuko with you. Moreover, living with them was great from day one. When you got up in the morning, you would find Suguru in the kitchen preparing breakfast and greeting you with a 'Good morning love', showing you his beautiful smile as always. Gojo, who to tease you would put some items on the shelves and top shelves and then laugh when you got nervous with him because you couldn't reach them, and every time he would muss your hair with his hand when he returned it to you doing his usual cheeky grin. Sometimes you would fall asleep on the sofa with your legs tangled during movie nights, sometimes both of you and sometimes you would spend evenings sitting on the sofa late into the night talking about silly things, deep thoughts about the most existential questions or the doubts and fears that tormented you.

Even when you managed to settle down in Tokyo and in your job you stayed living with them and they were fine with that.

Everything changed the day they asked you to become part of their relationship. They had both grown fond of you and, although at first you thought they had asked you in order to offer you a friendship with benefits, you realized that the more time passed, the more your triangular relationship turned into something absolutely wonderful. The months spent with them made you feel happy and fulfilled and you felt complete.

But now what was left, what would become of you from now on?.

________

At noon it began to rain and meanwhile you were preparing lunch while waiting for Satoru and Suguru to return. As you boiled the rice, you turned your head towards the bowl still full from the day before yesterday that lay in the corner of the kitchen floor and once belonged to Nuko. You sighed sadly and went back to work, deciding to chop some vegetables.

Suddenly you heard the sound of keys turning the lock of the front door: they were back.

"Hey, Y/N, where are you?" you heard Satoru call out to you. "I'm in the kitchen," you replied, continuing to cut.

Hearing their footsteps heading towards the kitchen, you decided to turn around and not look back. "I'm making saffron rice for lunch," you said not knowing what to do in that situation.

You turned your head slightly for a moment and then returned to what you were doing. You saw them on the threshold of the kitchen door, both slightly wet and Satoru was holding something in his hand, although you saw it in passing without realizing what it was.

You could feel their gazes on you and you were sure they wanted to talk about what had happened in the last two days and that perhaps it would lead to you breaking up.

"Y/N can you come here for a moment?" asked Satoru in an extremely quiet and gentle way. "I'm cutting Toru here," you replied, hoping that would be enough to avoid talking to them until you heard them approaching further. "Y/N, please look," Suguru added in the same tone.

You heaved a sigh surrendering to what now seemed inevitable and turned toward them.

What you saw left you speechless.

Satoru was holding what appeared to be a kitten only a few months old lying in the sorcerer's arms. Both men looked at you with an expression of regret.

You stood for a moment confused by the scene before you. You tried with all your might to say something, but nothing sensible came out of your mouth except a series of quivering babble. "Come here," Suguru told you softly, extending his hand for you to come closer.

You slowly approached them to get a better look, and Satoru gave you the kitten so you could hold it. You heard him meowing and that seemed to awaken you from your trance-like state, and staring at him better you saw that he had Nuko's gray fur. You were so astonished that you did not notice that both men's eyes had glazed over with tears at your reaction to their gift.

"I don't understand...," you said in a trembling voice, "why you...I...I don't...." Unable to finish the sentence, you looked up at them feeling the tears flow down your cheeks.

At this point they hugged you and exactly like you let the tears flow.

"Y/N we are so sorry, for everything, I mean it, forgive us," Gojo said rubbing his forehead with yours as he sobbed undaunted like you had never seen from him. "We didn't mean to say those things to you, you didn't deserve it and we were so stupid to let us talk to you like that, sorry, please forgive us, sorry." You looked into his eyes before he planted a series of kisses on your face wet with your tears.

Suguru took your face in his large hands so that you could see him face to face, and you saw him completely destroyed by the situation you had put yourselves in. "We love you Y/N," he said, "We really love you and we are sorry to have made you feel so long." . Before you could say anything, he softly kissed your lips, letting you both drift away from the intensity of the emotions you were feeling at that moment. He pulled away from you as if to get some air, before returning to kiss your face as Satoru had done.

"We don't want to lose you Y/N, you are the most precious thing we have."

Satoru turned your head and kissed you at the corners of your lips as he wiped away your tears in an attempt to comfort you and then went back to talking. "I know this won't be enough to make us forgive each other, but know that we have talked about it and we both agree that we are both in love with you and don't want to lose you and that we will do everything to get your forgiveness and make you feel loved as you deserve. Even if it takes a lifetime, we will make sure that neither of us will come back to make you feel as bad as we do these days. We want to love you as we love you right now."

"Don't feel obligated after this Y/N, but..." both of them left you some space "please forgive us for everything. Give us a chance to let you know how sorry we are."

You continued to cry as Suguru rubbed a hand on your back to make you calm down and Satoru took the kitten from your hands and then placed it on the ground so as not to overwhelm you.

"You... that's why you went out this morning," you sniffed, "but how?" and leaned down to pet the kitten who purred at your attention.

"Mrs. Momaru had mentioned to us some time ago that her cat had had kittens, and we went to her to ask if there were any left," Satoru told you as they both snuggled with you. You knew Mrs. Momaru; she was your neighbor, an elderly lady with a heart of gold.

"We're sorry about what happened to Nuko, we were hoping she could lift your spirits," Suguru told you uncertainly, "I know she won't be able to replace him, but...."

"I love her," you interrupted him and turned toward them. Now that you had calmed down, you were ready to say how you felt, "I love you guys and I want to be with you, but it will take time before I can forgive you completely," you said and they took your hands gently.

"We understand Y/N," Suguru whispered, kissing your hand.

"We will make sure you never feel this way again, we promise," Satoru said, as they wrapped you again in a loving, desperate embrace and for the first time in a long time you felt at peace.

It might have taken time to forgive them, but there was still hope between you.

Taglist: @qualitygiantshoepsychic @dark1paradise @mel1mak @tatahungry @aish777

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braveclementine · 1 month

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October 22- Mirror Sex (Legolas) 💙

Warnings: 18+ readers only, angst, mirror sex, prince kink, princess kink, oral sex

Copyright: I do not own Legolas or any other LOTR characters. Annerose is a made up character, but she's barely mentioned and I don't own names either. I also do not condone any copying of this.

You gazed as the gorgeous man in front of you. Well, not so much of a man as he was an elf, one of the ancient race and you knew there was a difference- to them of course. Such a difference that the relationship between you and Legolas was kept a secret. It wasn't entirely forbidden, but Legolas was the son of an elf King.

Your eyes trailed down his body. He had the perfect physique- as all of the elven men and women seemed to. Thin, but still fit and muscular. Long luscious blond hair and a pretty face, but still manly at the same time.

You always felt rather. . . well ugly was a blunt word, but it still fit. Unflattering, perhaps. You knew among common mortals- as Legolas might put it- you were decently pretty, even in your own eyes, but amongst the elves. . .

Legolas was a man and beautiful. The women were something completely different. You still didn't know how Legolas could prefer you when he had so many female elves that would love to court with him.

"You're staring." Legolas murmured softly, feeling your eyes burning into him. He opened them, his brown eyes meeting your E/C ones. Though you looked away, he could still read the emotions in them, sliding a hand across your hand. "Y/N, you are beautiful."

You flushed, looking away completely. It was very easy for him to say it, of course. But it didn't mean anything. Not when you couldn't see it yourself.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Always self-conscious of the maid that came in to serve the two of you, you quickly slumped back into the sheets, feigning sleep while Legolas chuckled softly.

You knew which elf it was the minute he greeted her by name. The elf with the silvery blue hair and large purple eyes. She was so beautiful you couldn't even believe she was a maid and even more surprised that Legolas had not had any sort of relations with her before meeting you. It had been rumored that they had, after all. But Legolas always told you the truth about whatever you asked. If he said they hadn't, then they hadn't.

"Good morning my Prince." Annerose murmured softly, the sounds of clinking dishes being set on a tray near the bed.

"Good morning Annerose." Legolas murmured back quietly, his hand landing gently on your shoulder blades.

"Um, my Prince!" Annerose said quickly, as though wanting to speak before you woke up, "I. . . there have been. . . well pardon me if this sounds forward. But you are our future King and some of the other servants. . . we've been worried about you."

"Oh?" Legolas questioned. You could heard the curiosity in his voice. "For what reason?"

Annerose hesitated a long time before saying rather meekly. "I know this is rather forward of me, my Prince, and I'm sorry if this comes across as rude, but we have been worried if. . . if you are satisfied."

Your cheeks burned and Legolas hand stopped rubbing circles on your back. You held back anything you wanted to say or do, keeping up the pretense of sleep.

Legolas responded easily. "I can assure you that it is a needless worried. I am very satisfied, Annerose."

"Ah." Annerose sounded unhappy with this, but of course would never say so. "I'm glad my Prince. Well, if there is ever anything else, you shall ring the bell."

"Of course. Thank you." Legolas said, the edge of his tone clearly dismissive and then suddenly called out, "Annerose!"

"Yes, my Prince?" Her tone had the slightest hint of hope in it.

"Please, to clear all conscious and worries, let the others know that Y/N is to be my wife. They need not worry with my love, she is all I shall ever want." Legolas said.

Annerose said nothing more, leaving the room, the door closing behind her quietly.

Legolas said nothing, his hand leaving your back and you felt the bed dip as he got off of it, presumably to go and get the breakfast. You stayed laying where you were, hoping to fall back into an endless sleep and get away from the humiliation.

The bed dipped again, long lithe arms pulling you back against his chest. A sob had gotten stuck in your throat and you didn't dare let it out, so you kept your lips shut firmly, trying to even out your breathing.

"I know you're not asleep." Legolas murmured, stroking your hair back. "And I know her words hurt you. I'm sorry they were so thoughtless, my love."

You swallowed the sob down and once the lump was gone, you murmured softly. "I'm alright. Just tired."

"No you're not." Legolas saw right through you. "I know exactly what you need."

He started to kiss down the back of your spine, his lips leaving a feather trail of burning spots. His hands caressed you and when you finally opened your eyes, he picked you up, swinging you over to sit you on the end of the bed.

"Look." He murmured softly, looking straight at something, and then you realized that it was your reflection. The two of you were reflected in the tall, body-length mirror that sat in front of his bed. Gilded and wrought with silver and emeralds, your reflections were clear as day.

You were painfully aware of how plain you looked next to him and averted your eyes down to the carpet in front of the bed, but Legolas wasn't having any of it. His fingers lifted your chin until you were looking directly at the two of you again.

"What do you see?" Legolas asked softly, kissing the side of your neck, before meeting your eyes in the mirror.

"I see myself. And I see you." You stated stubbornly.

Legolas didn't back down. "How do you think of me?"

"You're gloriously beautiful." You replied immediately. "You're so ageless and fair, there's a gay light in your eyes at all times. Your hair is so silky and smooth, it glows. But you're also as regal as your father."

"And how do you think of yourself?" Legolas fingers were rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh now, slightly distracting you.

"Well, I haven't prettied myself up, so I look rather plain." You admitted, figuring that this was the game you were playing and it was time to put everything out in the open. "But then again, next to you, I'm always plain. I don't have any of your light and I don't have any elvish beauty. I wish I did. Annerose is so beautiful Legolas, I don't know how you didn't fall for her instead."

"Because she's not you." Legolas whispered, pulling the sheets away from your body so that you were exposed- the two of you having fallen asleep naked last night. You flushed a little as he ran his fingers through your H/C mons, before sliding two fingers into your cunt.

Legolas got off the bed, sliding to the floor in front of you. "Y/N, you're going to look into the mirror the entire time. You will not look away, you will not close your eyes, you will only look at yourself and focus on my words. You don't have to ask for permission or say anything at all. Your safe word is still in use, understand?"

"Yes." You murmured, letting your eyes stray down for a second, looking at the glorious Prince on his knees before you, before letting your eyes move back up to your own face.

Legolas licked a stripe through your folds, your legs shaking a little, threatening to close around his head.

"You know what I see?" Legolas asked, before diving back in for his feast. Though you knew that you didn't have to answer, you couldn't help the slightly snarky retort that rolled off your tongue.

"A human?"

Legolas lightly pinched the inside of your thigh, but otherwise didn't comment. He pulled away, replacing his tongue with his fingers and answered instead, "I see a beautiful young woman. Your hair shines in the sun, and when you have it down, it curls around your face, framing it, so that it softens your features."

You wanted to look down at him, but kept your eyes focused on the mirror, looking at yourself. It was the one thing Legolas had commanded from you, so you wanted to make sure you followed through.

"You have a different beauty." Legolas continued, placing light kisses on the inside of your thighs. "Something no elf has, even me. Mortal beauty Y/N. You are beautiful as a human and you don't even realize it."

'Well of course not.' You thought inside your head, staring into your own eyes, which reflected a bitter sadness back at you. 'Have you seen yourself?'

Legolas seemed to feel your emotions because he kissed the inside of your thigh and said, "Look. Look at yourself Princess."

Your heart fluttered with the nickname and you watched your cheeks redden just a tad. A new light was in your eyes as pleasure started to coil in your abdomen. One of your small hands came into view as you placed it lightly on Legolas' fair hair. You watched your slender fingers slide into his locks as he latched back onto your cunt.

You watched your own eyes widen, glistening lips parting a little as you let out a moan.

"Look how beautiful you are." Legolas mumbled, muffled slightly as he didn't let up eating you out. You let out another moan, his words causing vibrations against your lower lips. Your legs shook and you could see your cheeks turning pinker.

"My Prince. . ." You moaned, voice quavering as you started to read the apex of your orgasm. Legolas looked beautiful between your legs, your hand tightening in his hair, the golden-white locks bunching up. He looked almost disheveled now, if that was possible. . . and it was because of you.

Your eyes were even brighter now, almost glazed as you reached your pleasure, which felt like fire across your veins. Your body shook and you watched yourself in the mirror once more, before collapsing against the bed so that you could relax.

You stared up at Legolas as he knelt next to you, smiling a little like you were the most adorable thing he'd seen on Middle Earth. His hand stroked your cheek until you finally smiled back at him.

"Did you see your beauty?" Legolas asked softly.

You knew what he meant and you could see it. He was right, it was a different sort of beauty than perhaps he was thinking about, but it was beauty.

"Yes." You whispered.

"Do you know why you're mine?" Legolas whispered.

You blushed at that. "You love me."

"Exactly." Legolas said, picking you up into his arms now, cradling you as he brought you over to sit with the food so the two of you could eat. "I love you."

You burrowed into his side, glancing up and seeing the two of you in the mirror again. You smiled at your reflection and then said to Legolas, "I love you too."

#Braveclementineworks #Kinktober 2023 #Mirror sex #prince kink #princess kink #angst #18+readers only #Legolas #Legolas Greenleaf #Legolas x reader #Legolas Greenleaf x reader #xreader #smut #Legolasxreader #Kinktoberprompt

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feyhunter78 · 1 year

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The Innocent's Folly pt. 3

Description: Your pregnancy is announced and Aemond grows distant, while rumors swirl and reach your ear with the help of your good-brother Aegon.

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Alicent worries, she worries often, about many things, but on this day she in particular worries about Aemond. She knew it was a large sacrifice she asked him to make, to marry y/n in order to gain information on Rhaenyra, but now she worries it has gone too far.

Y/N, sweet y/n has come to her, smiling and radiant as she excitedly told Alicent that she was with child.

She wasn’t aware that Aemond had such feelings for the girl and when she asked him, he mentioned the conversation he had with his grandsire, which turned her stomach.

A child for power was a trade she herself had been forced to make, and it was not one she wished for her own children. But what could be done? Y/N was happy, Aemond seemed happy, and Alicent couldn’t deny that the thought of another grandchild made her heart sing.

She bites at that skin around her thumb as her mind lingers on that word seemed, what if her son was truly unhappy? No child should grow up with an absent father, and while she had faith in her son, she knew the tension unwanted children bred.

This was not the first time she wondered if perhaps this plan was too cruel, y/n genuinely loved Aemond and had been striving to do her very best to fit in to the family. When she tripped over her words, or the light dimmed in her eyes at a passing insult from Aegon or Otto, Alicent couldn’t help but see herself in the young girl.

She ripped her finger from her mouth, no, this was for Aegon, for her children, y/n would be well taken care of even if once Aegon was on the throne, Aemond decided he no longer wanted her.

You hummed in contentment as you walked through the gardens with Helaena, arm in arm as she told you, her experiences with pregnancy. She did her best to make it not seem terrifying, but you knew better, having assisted in the Princess Rhaenyra’s births, you felt a bit more prepared than then average noblewoman.

Helaena was called away, and you wandered back into the keep, your hand resting on your small bump, you couldn’t wait to be a mother, and have someone to pour all your love into.

Since the announcement of your pregnancy, Aemond had withdrawn from you. Your good-mother assured you it was simply nerves, but you couldn’t help but think back to the hushed conversation you’d had with Ana, a kitchen maid, and one of your closest friend.

“I hate to tell you this y/n, I know how much you love him but…”

“But what? Ana, you are one of my closest companions, I trust you with my life, and that will never change.”

Ana fidgeted with the strings of her apron. “I’ve been hearin’ that the prince has taken to joining his brother down on Silk Street, they say he’s been asking for someone who looks like a certain woman, but it isn’t you.”

You had swallowed hard and thanked Ana, asking her to keep her ears open for you.

“Sweet good-sister, how lovely to see you.” Aegon said, suddenly appearing at your side, and linking arms with you.

“Aegon, hello, how are you this afternoon?” You asked politely, wary of his hands and where they might try to travel.

“Better now that I know my plans for this evening.” He drawled, giving you a smile that set your nerves on edge.

“Oh? Is there an event I have yet to hear about?”

“No, it is simply a brotherhood event, a celebration of manhood.”

“Ah, I see, well that sounds like it will be quite fun for you.” You looked down at your feet, worries beginning to dissipate.

“And Aemond.” He added.

“Aemond is going?” Your worries returned, and your hand fell to your stomach.

“Yes, but he will be safe, worry not.”

“I am sure he will be; I would not bet against the two of you in a fight.” You laughed but didn’t feel it.

“He is the better swordsman, for sure.”

“Yes, but it is you both as a team that makes me feel protected.” You looked up at him and found a flicker of sympathy in his eyes.

“Let me escort you back to your quarters y/n, you are with child, you should rest.”

Aegon continued to ask you questions about your wellbeing as he walked you back to you and Aemond’s shared quarters. As he opened the door for you, he scanned the room then lowered his voice. “Tonight, midnight, find the painting with the purple roses and follow the tunnel through there, you will be looking for the Gilded Lady, a pillowhouse on Silk Street. Let no one see you.”

You wanted to ask questions, but he shook his head.

“I take no pleasure in this, but I do believe you deserve the truth.”

Then he left, and you stood in the doorway, head spinning as you tried to digest the information he’d given you.

“Sweet y/n, are you waiting to welcome me home?” Aemond called, a slight smile on his face as he approached you.

You nodded, still half in your thoughts, only to be broken out of it by Aemond tilting your chin up and kissing you, his hand resting on your stomach.

“And how fares our son?”

You follow him into your quarters and sit at the table. “Well, the morning sickness has finally retreated.”

“That is good to hear, have you spoken with Helaena about her experiences with childbirth?”

“Yes, I did today, and I have assisted in births before I am not scared, not yet at least.”

He kneels before you and reached up, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “My brave wife, I cannot wait to see our son.”

You leaned into his touch, confused but grateful for his sudden increase in affection. Perhaps now was the time to ask him to warm your bed once more. “I have received a new nightgown, and wish to wear it, do you have plans tonight?”

“We cannot try for another babe until this one has been born.” He laughed, releasing your face and moving over to the dresser.

“Well, that is not the only reason one might wish to sleep with their husband.” You said, cheeks burning. The way Aemond had acted the night your child was conceived had you believing he would jump at the chance to be intimate with you again.

“Unfortunately, I do have plans, I must take Vhagar and fly to Oldtown. Grandsire has taken to using me as his personal delivery boy.”

You stood; hands bunched in your skirts. “But Vhagar is massive it will take her no time to fly to Oldtown and back, could you not go in the morning?”

“Y/N, I must go, I cannot stay merely because you hunger for me.”

You moved to him and when he turned, you sunk to your knees, batting your eyelashes up at him, your hands on his thighs. “But do you not hunger for me as well, husband?”

He took your hands and pulled you to your feet. “Do not do that, you look like a whore.”

Your chest squeezed, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying. His words were like blows, and shame rushed to your cheeks. You hung your head. “Apologies, husband, I simply wished—”

He cut you off. “I must leave now, Vhagar has been temperamental all day.” Then he squeezed your hand and left the room.

You waited until he was gone to let the tears flow. You had never been so embarrassed or rejected so cruelly.

You wanted to fling yourself into your bed and cry under the covers, but you steeled yourself. Perhaps he was simply attempting to correct you on what a prince’s wife does and does not do. Or perhaps he didn’t enjoy that type of pleasure, he’d never asked it from you before.

You wiped away your tears and decided to return to sewing the blanket for your unborn child.

Tag list: @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhhaa, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon

#aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen fanfiction #prince aemond x reader #meg's writing #lowborn!reader #wife!reader #innocent!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #Aegon being a good brother-in-law????#hotd #hotd fanfic #tif series

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violetsiren90 · 9 months

Text

Blame Me: Chapter 1 | Jungkook/Reader

Pairing: artist!freespirit!Jungkook/noona!f!Reader

Genre: Best friend's younger brother; slow burn; friends to lovers; eventual romance; eventual smut; neighbors/childhood friends au; forbidden(ish) love; summer love.

Summary: Upon returning to your hometown after breaking off your engagement to your boyfriend of three years, you reconnect with your childhood bestfriend as you attempt to put the pieces of your life back togethe r. It seems like nothing has changed in the sleepy little town until your bestie's younger brother returns home from college - very, very grown. As the summer stretches on, the stakes get higher - can you play with fire without getting burned, or have you ignited a flame that won't be extinguished?

Chapter Warnings: All my fics are 18+ (minors, dni); allusions to an unhappy home environment/neglect; descriptive scenes of shared meals (the characters will eat together a lot in this fic, as it is part of a family dynamic); mentions of promiscuity made in jest; the accidentally-in-bed-together trope; brief panic attack symptoms; MC has some issues with guilt and feeling like a burden

Updates: When I can! Life has been crazy lately.

Author's note: This is so incredibly late in coming, and I really struggled with it for whatever reason (the initial inspo was there and then it just wasn't coming) but I am still excited to tell this story and thank you in advance to anyone who takes the time to read it!

*Inspired by "Blame Me" by Monsta X 💕

In case no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️ 💜

Tag list: @papijiminfeed @oopscoop @violeata @fancycollectormoon @fandomtales @booboobutt @jlee97 @lifeless-firefly @lovemepie67 @shaybtsforever @woomyteez @smutbangtan @raiu54288

If you want to be added to the tag list, comment or send me an ask to let me know!

You watched the shiny white Tesla that had been your Uber grow smaller and smaller down the long shady stretch of Tiger Lily Lane. You stood on the sidewalk, behind you the warm asphalt of the road and long shadows of the tall, sprawling elms, and before you your childhood home. It was a little grey house with a blue door and white trim, kitchen windows like jovial eyes, curved at the top, staring out over a lawn overrun with crabgrass and lined with bushes of pale pink roses that grew flush with the unpainted picket fence. The porch swing was beginning to show signs of rust, but the two little hanging pots of azaleas that flanked it on either side were blooming and bright. The windows and flowers seemed to loudly stare out into the street, assuring neighbors and passersby of a happy home, but you knew better.

You shifted your duffel bag on your shoulder and sighed. You weren't ready to go in. The house into which your family had moved when you were in the third grade had never really been a home to you. In fact, it had been a place you had left. By choice. Granted you had paid the occasional visit, by choice. Because visits were temporary. This wasn't a visit - and the moment you walked through those doors, you would be shutting forever a chapter of your life in which, as stormy as it had been in recent days, had rescued you from the one before it.

An ugly feeling that had been brewing in the pit of your stomach since the pilot had announced that your plane was starting its decent was making itself well known as you stood outside the gate of house number 9195.

A voice snapped you out of your nauseated reverie, and as you turned to see its owner, new feelings washed over you. Better ones. In the lawn of 9197 Tiger Lily Lane stood a pretty, slim young woman with a sharply cut, silky black bob. Her catlike dark eyes were bright and intense, her face bare but lovely, and her clothes simple but strikingly presentable.

"Y/n!" she called again, her arms extended with open palms in a gesture of embrace and inquisition.

"Jiah!" you shouted, dropping your duffel with a thud and jogging into the ungated yard where she stood.

No sooner were you within arm's reach than she pulled you into a tight hug, swaying you from side to side as she pressed out of you, along with all the air in your lungs, a muffled laugh. Suddenly grasping you by the shoulders, she jerked you back so she could look at you. You grabbed her arms to steady yourself, continuing to gasp out bursts of laughter as you protested.

"Jiah, hold on! Woah! I'm gonna fall!"

"Who cares about that! I haven't seen you since...oh my god, since the summer we finished undergrad, I think? How are you? Are you going to be in town for a few days?"

You looked back over your shoulder to where two bulging suitcases stood beside your abandoned duffel, then back to Jiah's inquisitive gaze.

"It's gonna be more than a few days, Ji."

She squeezed your shoulder as she cocked her head to the side.

"Wait, are you moving back?"

You mustered a weary, uncertain smile.

"Surprise!" you offered weakly. Her smile faded, lips drawing into a pensive purse.

"You haven't even been in there yet, have you?" she asked gravely, her eyes searching yours, hand still on your shoulder. You shook your head, lowering your gaze groundward. She sighed.

"Alright, c'mon," she said suddenly, marching toward your pile of luggage.

She grabbed the duffel and tossed it at you, wheeling the other two bags up the driveway behind her.

"You're coming with me for now. We have some catching up to do."

You didn't protest as you followed her over the threshold of the Jeon household for the first time in a long while.

Linen. Every house has its very own unique scent - one that draws you into its aura, for good or ill, and wraps you in all of the memories and feelings it has afforded you; it can take you back to a moment in time, and who you were in that moment, unmistakable and fleeting - a smoke ring of a portal to a previous reality. Jiah's house smelled like linen. And lilacs? Something floral, but even more delicate.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as you stood just inside the door. The sick feeling in your stomach began to shrink. Every muscle in your body began to soften. You could hear the laughter of years ago. You could feel the bubbly schoolgirl giddiness of slumber parties under forts of sheets. Movie nights with cartons of takeout. Summer afternoons laying in the grass and tossing lazy wishes up at puffy white clouds.

"Y/n? Have you even been listening to me?"

You opened your eyes and blinked at Jiah, who was standing in front of you with two bottles of grapefruit IPA and a look of mild annoyance.

"Sorry," you offered with a sheepish smile, slipping off your shoes, and traded the duffel in your right hand for one of the beers in answer to the question you had missed.

You followed her into the living room and plopped down next to her on a pretty white couch you didn't recognize, taking a long, wheaty swig from your bottle. She folded her legs up under herself and turned toward you, fixing you with earnest, expectant eyes. You raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Well, aren't you gonna tell me?" she pressed.

You smiled to yourself. Always so direct, Jeon Jiah. Even with half a decade stretching between this moment and the last you spent together, things were the very same. You were the Libra - the dramatic, messy one. The one with a heart full of dreams and a head in the clouds. She was the Capricorn with the strong sense of direction and the practical perspective. You always seemed to be in a quandary and she never failed to have a hard take on the situation. You sighed, taking another long sip of beer.

"Have we really talked at all since freshman year of undergrad?" Jiah shook her head.

While you had fought like hell to get out of Bellpond - even if it meant chasing your father's dreams of law school instead of your own - Jiah, who desperately wanted to join you in New York, had set aside her own longings to attend a local college while helping the family store survive the recession. Telling her the truth of what happened was going to be painful. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to transcend the assumption that what you were about to say would let her down.

"It was a guy, wasn't it?"

You shot wide eyes up at her, mouth agape at her sudden interjection.

"What?" she pressed with a shrug as she sipped her own beverage,

"That's always what it is with you."

You blinked, trying to form some sort of protest while failing to find any evidence in memory to counter her claims. You settled for a rueful smile and a huff.

"I guess I always have had pretty terrible taste in men," you conceded.

"Pretty terrible?" she pushed, her face pinching into a comically overt censoriousness. "It's like your number one turn-on is red flags!"

"Hey!" you rebutted, launching yourself at her shoulder in a playful shove, and sloshing her beer in the process.

You froze in panic as she glanced down at her dampened cardigan, and then at you.

"Oh, shit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

You jumped up and backed away, holding your hands outstretched in front of you as she stood up and slowly and menacingly advanced toward you.

"This is my favorite sweater," she hissed in a whisper.

"Jiah, I didn't mean too, I'm sorry!" you whined, manic laughter punctuating your words as you backed around the coffee table.

"It has lady bugs on the bottom," she hissed again, eyes narrowing as she raised the right hem to gesticulate at the embroidered insects in question.

"And they're very cute," you placated, hands still raised in self defense. "Look, I said I was - Aaahh!!"

She lunged at you mid-sentence, and you shrieked, tripping over your own feet in an attempt to flee and you toppled, one after the other, in a heap on the plush carpet. Before you could find out if your friend was in fact as strong as she had been in high school, the front door swung open and a familiar voice filled the room.

"Jeon Jiah, get up off the floor and help your imo with all these damn groceries! I had to - AHHHH!"

You looked up at the figure in the door as she let out a high-pitched squeal of delight. She was a petite bombshell of a woman in her early fifties, who, had you not known otherwise, you wouldn't have pegged for a day over forty. Bright and expertly executed makeup adorned her features - softer and rounder than Jiah's. Her permed dark hair was pulled up in a colorful bohemian wrap, and she wore compression pants, neon orange Nike's, and a crop top with a print of Joan Jett flipping the bird. She had dropped the bags of citrus and apples she had been carrying, sending the fruits rolling across the floor.

"Aebeolle!" She shrieked, running forward, and bending down to pull you up by your armpits into a half-stand so she could crush you in a hug.

"Rosie!" You propped yourself up on your knees so that you could wrap your arms around the tiny woman's middle.

Imo to her niece and nephew, she was Rosie to everyone else. While Jiah's mother had been the responsible one, staying out of trouble, and working in the family store after school, Rosie had been the wild child. Smart as a whip but with no patience for the system, Rosie had dropped out of high school at seventeen and jumped on a tour bus the following summer as the groupie of a grunge band. She hadn't looked back until Christmas Eve of 1999, when her whole world was shattered by a phone call.

She had taken the next flight back to the hometown she had promised to never set foot in again so that by Christmas morning she could have her niece and nephew in wrapped her arms. She left behind her life in the fast lane to take over running the Jeon's store and raise her sister's kids in their family home.

She had been there for you, too. On those nights you climbed out of your window, a backpack slung over your shoulder stuffed with clothes and a toothbrush, to tap softly on their front door. On the following mornings she had filled your stomach with warm, hearty dakjuk and fluffy slices of milk bread, and let you watch cartoons as she worked out the knots clinging to your neglected hair. She offered the warmest hugs, the softest words of direction, and the loudest cheers of praise. She had always called you "aebeolle" which was Korean for "caterpillar", and she had always given you the nurture you needed to survive. If she hadn't, you weren't sure where you would have come by it.

"What are you doing here? You finally paying us a visit?" she asked, clapping her hands to your cheeks.

"She was about to tell me about how some guy wrecked her life. Again."

Jiah interjected, earning herself a smack on the shoulder.

"Jiah, you brat!" Rosie chided, as she helped you to your feet.

She glanced up at you through fake lashes.

"You really do have the worst taste in men, though."

You sighed in defeat.

"Ugh, you two," you blustered, "Where is Jungkook when I need backup?"

"Headed this way, for the summer, actually," Rosie remarked as she collected the fruit strewn across the floor.

"So he decided to slum it, huh?" Jiah huffed, "I thought he was going to Ontario, or wherever the heck that last girl he met at that festival was from."

Rosie shrugged, shaking her head with a smile.

"I've lost track," she chuckled.

You blinked.

"Wait, wait, wait...are we talking about the same person?" You asked, holding a hand up in disbelief. "Jungkook. Your little brother. Tiny. Shy as hell. Looks like the weight of his head is gonna topple him over. Bunny rabbit teeth....is a lady's man?"

"Well, not strictly," Rosie hummed, hoisting a bag of produce onto the counter. "His sophomore year in Paris there was that one guy...what was his name?"

"Taehyung," Jiah offered, shedding her sweater and draining her beer.

"Right, right," Rosie nodded. "I liked him. Too bad."

Your mouth hung open. Jiah wrinkled her nose.

"You're gonna catch flies that way," she remarked sardonically.

"I...I just cannot believe what I'm hearing. Jungkook. In my mind he will forever be the tiny gremlin I have to keep bailing out of trouble."

Rosie smiled. Jiah scoffed.

"Well, he's still a gremlin, if you ask me," she sniffed, chucking the beer bottles in the recycling bin.

"When does he get back?" You asked.

Rosie shook her head as she divided the groceries between the cupboards and the fridge.

"He's on his bike so, barring any unexpected stops - which are definitely not out of the picture - he should be here in the next couple of days. Probably by the weekend."

You nodded, still trying to wrap your head around the newly acquired image of you and Jiah's childhood tag-a-long. Rosie approached you with a picture pulled up on her phone.

"Look at him," she said with a smile, sliding the device into your hand.

You blinked at the picture on the screen. There he stood - much taller than you remembered - a girl under each arm, filling out a pair of ripped jeans, a black tank, and an ascot. A fringe brushed the tops of his eyes, while the top half of his dark waves were bound back in a little bun. His right arm was covered in tattoos. He was grinning from ear to ear, with that same toothy smile you had committed to memory.

"That's just crazy," you murmured, shaking your head, before handing Rosie's phone back to her.

"He's going to be thrilled to see you. I think he has a lot of happy memories from when you three were kids just banging around town together," Rosie remarked as she continued to sort the groceries.

You smiled to yourself. You certainly did. You glanced at your bags by the door.

"I guess I should get going," you murmured without conviction.

"Not yet, not until I've fed you," Rosie responded, not skipping a beat as she began to pile the ingredients for bibimbap on the kitchen island.

You smiled to yourself. Rosie to the rescue, as always.

"Okay, if you're gonna twist my arm," you sighed dramatically as you pulled up a stool on the other side of the kitchen island, followed by Jiah who grabbed the carrots and a peeler.

You reached for a huge zucchini squash and knife. Jiah shot you some side-eye.

"You're not getting out of telling us about the big debacle, you know. Time to 'fess up."

"Yep, spill," Rosie concurred as she prepped the rice cooker.

You heaved another sigh. Might as well get it over with, you thought. But for some reason, the words stuck in your throat, unable to come out. You looked at your hands, shaking as they tried to steady the knife over the squash. You couldn't do this. Not right now. Not yet.

You let the knife clatter to the cutting board and scrubbed your hands over your face.

"Y/n?" Jiah asked, leaning over to look at you, "Are you okay?"

You drew your hands from your face and looked up at her with tired eyes. She and Rosie had traded their teasing glances for expressions of concern. You gripped the edge of the counter to stop your stupid hands from trembling.

"It's really not a fun story, you guys," you said slowly, trying your best to sound casual, "You're not missing out."

Rosie reached over the kitchen island to clasp your hands.

"No worries, aebeolle. We can talk about it some other time. For now, just stick to slicing up this zucchini and forget about that other one!"

She shot you a wink as she cracked open a tupperware of marinated beef.

"Imo! My god!" Jiah protested with a grimace as you and Rosie burst into a fit of giggles.

It was all laughter and shots of soju and teasing Jiah about being a prude until you were gathered around the table with steaming bowls of goodness in front of you. Rosie closed her eyes and threw up rock-on signs with both hands.

"May Stevie Nicks bless this food," she murmured before snapping up her chopsticks to snag a mandu and pop it into her mouth.

You took a heaping bite of bibimbap, your whole body relaxing as the flavors and warmth returned you to a simpler time. Another wave of nostalgia washed over you as images of three little hungry kids fighting over the last piece of fried chicken replaced the scene before you. Your eyes wandered to the empty chair beside Rosie. There was a missing piece in the picture of comfort you had always found in the Jeon residence - a missing piece in the shape of round head bearing a pair of giant doe eyes that would light up when he'd win and water-up when he'd lose, and little short legs that ran faster than the longer ones, and a bright smile that was all innocence and central incisors.

You smiled fondly as long-dormant memories continued to appear like little spring flowers of the mind. Jungkook had perfectly completed your little trio, because though Jiah was your best friend, you and he had always understood each other in a way that came so easily. You didn't mind that everything brought him to tears, or that he invested himself so earnestly in even the smallest of his joys. You also didn't find it annoying that he wanted to tag along with the big kids, or that he hated being called a baby despite practically demanding to be treated as one. You knew in a way Jiah would only later realize that he was caught between wanting to grow up too quickly and not at all. It was the same battle between longings that waged war in your own heart, along with so many others who in some way had to raise themselves.

"How's the oi muchim?" Rosie's question roused you from your reverie.

"Amazing, like everything," you answered, waving your chopsticks over the spread of banchan.

"I made it a little spicier this time," the older woman said, sampling the cucumbers again herself. "Trying to get these staples just right before the new place opens."

"New place? Another store?" You asked, helping yourself to more sukju namul.

Rosie's eyes shone, a proud smile tugging at her lips as she gave her answer.

"A restaurant, actually."

Your jaw dropped.

"You're finally doing it!?"

Rosie leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, nodding at her niece.

"It's all Jiah's doing. She's taking care of all the logistics, I'm just figuring out the menu."

"Well, if you need help, I'm in between gigs at the moment," you added eagerly.

Rosie clapped her hands and wiggled in her chair.

"We would love the help! We've only just started hiring some staff. So far there's one person to wait tables and someone running the kitchen."

Jiah let out a huff. You quirked an eyebrow in her direction, and she appraised you with a look of wistful discouragement.

"Too bad you can't cook, or I'd boot him out tomorrow."

"Who?"

"The chef," she sneered.

"Speaking of, Jiah-ie," Rosie remarked over the food in her cheek, "How is Seokjin doing these days?"

The older woman chewed back a poorly concealed smirk as she glanced up at her niece, whose lips curled scornfully.

"One day, I'll kill him, I swear," she grumbled, shoveling rice into her mouth as if she was punishing it with every bite.

You glanced over at your friend, then at Rosie, who wiggled her eyebrows as she took a sip from her glass.

"Seokjin...not Kim Seokjin?" you asked.

"Yeeeeep," Jiah affirmed bitterly.

"He's a cook?"

Rosie nodded.

"And darn good at it. The only thing he's better at is pissing off this one right here," she remarked with a smirk as she gestured toward her glowering niece.

You smiled to yourself as Jiah started off on what would likely be a lengthy rant at the young man's expense. Seokjin, or Jin, as he was more commonly known, had attended the same small high school as you and Jiah. In a body of four-hundred students, everyone had played a well-known role - and while she had been the straight-laced valedictorian, he was the class clown. Natural enemies who found the other beyond comprehension, the bulk of the ire had always been on Jiah's side, while Jin had seemed to find her as amusing as he did inexplicable. The concept of the two of them attempting to run a business together was the stuff of sitcoms.

His ongoing feud with Jiah notwithstanding, it didn't really surprise you that he had tucked himself into the Jeons' life. His father owned most of the agricultural land in the surrounding area, and with his older brother having been slated since birth to take over the family empire, Jin had enjoyed a freedom of direction that found him often seeking out the phenomenon of being needed...and people always needed a laugh. But laughter is momentary, and Rosie, having the heart for strays that she did, always provided something more permanent.

"So now we're probably going to have to keep Jungkook at the store, because you know how they get when they're together," Jiah tiraded on.

"They don't get along anymore?" you asked, a bit crestfallen at the thought.

"The opposite," Rosie chuckled, "You put them in the same room and those dorks turn into a couple of puppies. They broke the back screen door roughhousing last Chuseok. Plowed right through it."

You snickered at the thought.

"But Jungkook is darn well gonna contribute while he's here," your friend asserted as she stood to clear the table, still on her agenda about the restaurant launch, "Not just cruise around finding pretty people to sketch between make-out sessions."

Rosie waved a hand dismissively.

"He's always willing to pitch in. But it's summer, and he's young, so don't you go all drill sergeant on him."

Jiah scoffed.

"Sure, it's summer, but there's a lot to get done between now and opening, and -"

"AND," Rosie interrupted, "I expect you to have some fun as well, young lady! Especially now that Y/n is back. You two better do a decent amount of carousing."

"Carousing?" Jiah asked with a grimace, directing horrified eyes in your direction.

You let out another laugh.

"She's got a point, Rosie. I don't think anyone has caroused in quite some time."

Rosie rolled her eyes, crossing to the sink and running the tap.

"Well," she rejoined, undeterred, "Whatever it is they're calling it these days, you two better be doing plenty of it! Give your imo some fun to live through vicariously, why don't you?"

Jiah shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And, you," she said, pointing a sudsy wooden spoon in your direction, "Should just stay here for the night. Take Jungkook's room. Then you can rest and be ready for...you know. Tomorrow."

You accepted the invitation with very little hesitation. It was a relief, and Rosie knew. She had always known. You shot a text to excuse your absence that you doubted was actually necessary and lugged your things down the hall and into the last bedroom on the left.

The rest of the night was spent stuffed onto the little couch with bowls of ice cream while the three of you shrieked and slapped each other's arms and kick your feet watching reruns of The Golden Girls. It was nearly midnight by the time you slipped under the sheets of the full-sized mattress in the smallest bedroom.

Though your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, you couldn't help but glance around at the walls and shelves, filled with scented candles, and action figures, Polaroids, and an incredible number of charcoal and graphite sketches. There were drawings of buildings, trees, cars, and people. And though there was little variation in color, the vitality and emotion that sparked along each line drew you from piece to piece. Your eyes drifted over a particular drawing - a girl's lower face - the tip of a nose, lips slightly parted, and her chin tilting upward. It might have been the delirium of your tired mind, but something about it seemed familiar. You stretched for a recollection just out of reach as you slipped past memory and into slumber.

Weight. The first thing you registered as your mind began to again become aware of its physical trappings was a heaviness. At first your hazy consciousness likened it to blankets, then to the heaviness of a sleep without dreams...safety...security...

And then something brushed the skin of your stomach under your shirt, drawing a hum out of you as your eyes fluttered open, and what they saw had you frozen in place. An arm. A large, muscular arm covered in dark ink was snaked around your waist, hand slipped under the hem of your sleep tee.

Fight or flight mode suddenly triggered, you snapped up and pushed yourself away from the body attached to the limb, letting out a shout as you kicked your legs, and only catching a glimpse of dark hair and grey sweatpants as the intruder rolled off the bed and hit the carpet with a loud thud. You jumped off the other side of the bed before you could think, tangling your legs in sheets that brought you tumbling down onto your ass. Before you could thrash free of the bedding, a groaning figure peered with large, dark eyes from the other side of the bed. Dark, wild waves framing his sleepy head like a halo, and wide, round eyes still bleary with sleep, the young man passed tattooed hand over his mouth to wipe the remnants of drool away as he blinked at you from across the room.

"J...Jungkook?!" you choked out in surprise and confusion, struggling to your feet.

"You kicked me..." he groaned, his features taking on an injured look as he stooped to rub his thigh.

"Why...when..."

"Imo told me to wake you up for breakfast," he pouted.

You scrubbed your hands over your eyes. Same damn baby-faced expression. Huge, bulky man. With tattoos...and a lip ring? This Pokémon had leveled up. Maybe twice. And that was all your brain could register as your heart rate descended from two hundred beats per minute and the heavy fog of an interrupted sleep cycle began to dissipate. You tossed the sheet back onto the bed, and as your eyes flicked back to his face you noticed his had dropped a little lower. Registering with horror that you were in a thin cotton nightshirt with nothing underneath, you snatched up the sheet again, clutching it to your chest. What the fuck was happening?

"Rosie told you to wake me up, so you decided to spoon me?" You asked incredulously as your embarrassment quickly morphed into agitation.

Jungkook's eyes widened as they flew up to yours, seemingly caught off guard by the edge in your tone.

"No, noona...it wasn't like that!" he said, standing to his full height, his brow creasing defensively.

He was pretty fucking tall. His white tee and grey sweats did little to hide the fact that he was also pretty fucking big. Exasperated by these unbidden acknowledgements that had your brain buffering, you snapped a little again.

"Then what was it like? You had your hand up my shirt, Kook!"

Your voice had unintentionally softened at his nickname, and he caught it, biting back a grin as you hugged the sheet over you just a little more snugly.

"It was kind of your fault, noona," he smirked, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

You shot him a quizzical and unamused look.

"I came in here to wake you up and you pulled me into bed. You kept calling me someone else's name...and..." he giggled, "'Baby', and you kept insisting we sleep for just five more minutes."

You gaped at him in horror.

"You pulled my arm over you," he continued, now a bit smugly, "And I had literally just woken up, so...being so comfy...well, I guess I fell back to sleep with you."

You could feel the heat in your face. You had a history of pretty intense sleep talking, but you hadn't experienced it to that extent in years. You considered that you must have slept deeply as you stammered your apology.

"Oh my god, Jungkook...I'm so sorry - that's horrifying - I didn't mean to..."

The younger man just laughed in response, breaking into his signature luminous smile. His eyes glimmered.

"Didn't mean to steal my bed, demand cuddles, and then beat the heck out of me?"

You let out a sigh.

"Sorry."

He nodded, a little smile still tugging at his lips.

"I accept your apology for the bruises...but not the cuddles. Those were nice."

He threw a wink over his shoulder as he headed for the door, and you tossed a pillow and a string of expletives after him as he jogged, giggling, toward the kitchen. Still flustered and a bit thrown, you changed into real clothes before joining the others in the breakfast table. Rosie was placing mayak eggs alongside the piles of bacon and pancakes as you pulled out a chair next to Jiah.

"You slept well! You must have been exhausted," Rosie remarked, handing you a mug of coffee.

"Yeah, must have," Jungkook quipped with a smirk as he snagged three strips of bacon.

You shot him a warning look as you stabbed demonstratively into a stack of pancakes, but his grin only deepened.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be back until the weekend," you addressed him coolly.

"Mm," he took a sip of orange juice. "I actually wasn't really supposed to be back until next week. I expected to head north to see a friend but she ended up being out of town, so I just came straight back."

"A friend, huh?" Jiah crooned patronizingly, as she twirled a fork in his direction.

Her brother nodded.

"The same one you were talking to on the phone very loudly when you came in last night?"

Jungkook scrunched his nose, sticking out the tip of his tongue in her direction.

"Wow," she drawled, "How very adult of you. And for the record, friends don't call each other 'baby'."

Jungkook snickered, glancing at you again before he mumbled, "Some friends do..."

"So, Jiah - " you practically shouted, as you turned toward her in a desperate bid to change the topic of conversation, "You gonna show me the new place today, or what?"

"The restaurant? If you let her drag you out there, she'll put you to work and you'll never be seen again," Jungkook hummed over an entire egg that he had pocketed in his cheek, casting teasing eyes up at his sister, who smiled back wickedly.

"You know, Kookie, it's just so good to have you home! We needed someone who puts in those gym hours to do a bit of the heavy lifting."

Jungkook flashed another smile, puffing his chest and massaging his pectorals as Jiah feigned a gag.

You chuckled, and Jungkook grinned as he tucked into his pancakes.

Watching the two of them bicker and catch up, you realized that things felt a bit more whole again - familiar, if different. You considered that maybe the three of you could all fall back into stride. Maybe this summer wouldn't be so bad after all.

After breakfast you gathered your things to head next door. You tried to slip out quietly, to avoid Rosie stalling you any further, but Jungkook caught you as he was coming around from the garage, an oil towel in his grease-stained hands.

"You leaving?" he asked with a tinge of disappointment.

"I can't over-stay my welcome," you shrugged, smiling wryly.

His face took on a serious expression.

"You know you're always welcome here, yeah? It's good to have you back," he pressed earnestly.

You nodded, touched because you knew he meant it and that the other two members of his family shared the same sentiment. Jungkook wiped his hands on the towel casting a look over at the house next door.

"You staying there?"

You nodded. His brow creased and the corners of his mouth turned down.

"Okay. You can come here whenever."

"I know," you said softly.

His eyes looked worried and uncertain. You dropped your bag and pulled him into a hug.

"It's so good to see you again, Jungkook-ah," you murmured, dropping your head against his chest.

His arms squeezed around you in return. He had always preferred to talk with his body instead of his words. Every playful punch, or little shove, or squeeze of his hand carried a message. This one meant it was good to see you too.

As you waved goodbye you counted the Jeons' welcome among your blessings - not everything you had left behind would be so welcome to recall. But, life hadn't left you with many choices. So you began the long walk to the house next door.

-End Chapter 1-

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 11 months

Note

Do you think the rumors of a romance/marriage between Robespierre and Eleonore are true? Or is there any hard evidence at all?

”Hard evidence” I suppose would be statements from Robespierre and/or Éléonore themselves that the two were a thing. Such things would however appear to not exist. For Robespierre, the only time he is even recorded to have mentioned Éléonore that I’m aware of is when writing to her father while on a trip to Arras in the fall of 1791 and asking him to say hello from him to the rest of his family:

Please present the testimonies of my tender friendship to Madame Duplay, to your demoiselles, and to my little friend. Robespierre to Maurice Duplay, October 16 1791

Present the testimonies of my tender and masterful attachment to your ladies, whom I earnestly desire to embrace, as well as our little patriot. Robespierre to Maurice Duplay, November 17 1791

As can be seen from the letters, there’s nothing here suggesting he thought anything in particular about Éléonore. But it’s also unknown if the two were even a thing at this point, considering they hadn’t known each other for even half a year.

As for Éléonore, she hasn’t left behind any written material at all that I’m aware of, nor do we possess anything written to her. This just leaves us with contemporary claims regarding the two. Below are those I’ve been able to find, cited in chronological order:

[Robespierre’s] host's daughter passed for his wife and had a sort of empire over him. Causes secrètes de la révolution du 9 au 10 thermidor (1794) by Joachim Vilate, page 16

It has been rumored that [Éléonore] had been Robespierre's mistress. I think I can affirm she was his wife; according to the testimony of one of my colleagues, Saint-Just had been informed of this secret marriage, which he had attended. Mémoires d’un prêtre regicide (1829) by Simon-Edme Monnel, page 337-338

Madame Lebreton, a sweet and sensitive young woman, said, blushing: “Everyone assures that Eugénie [sic] Duplay was Robespierre’s mistress.” “Ah! My God! Is it possible that that good and generous creature should have so degraded herself?” I was aghast. “Listen,” cried Henriette, “don’t judge on appearances. The unhappy Eugénie was not the mistress, but the wife of the monster, whom her pure soul decorated with every virtue; they were united by a secret marriage of which Saint-Just was the witness.” Souvernirs de 1793 et 1794 par madame Clément, Née Hémery (1832) by Albertine Clément-Hémery

Madame Duplay had three [sic] daughters: one married the conventionnel Le Bas; another married, I believe, an ex-constituent; the third, Éléonore, who preferred to be called Cornélie, and who was the eldest, was, according to what people pleased themselves to say, on the point of marrying my brother Maximilien when 9 Thermidor came. There are in regard to Éléonore Duplay two opinions: one, that that she was the mistress of Robespierre the elder; the other that she was his fiancée. I believe that these opinions are equally false; but what is certain is that Madame Duplay would have strongly desired to have my brother Maximilien for a son-in-law, and that she forget neither caresses nor seductions to make him marry her daughter. Éléonore too was very ambitious to call herself the Citizeness Robespierre, and she put into effect all that could touch Maximilien’s heart. But, overwhelmed with work and affairs as he was, entirely absorbed by his functions as a member of the Committee of Public Safety, could my older brother occupy himself with love and marriage? Was there a place in his heart for such futilities, when his heart was entirely filled with love for the patrie, when all his sentiments, all his thoughts were concentrated in a sole sentiment, in a sole thought, the happiness of the people; when, without cease fighting against the revolution’s enemies, without cease assailed by his personal enemies, his life was a perpetual combat? No, my older brother should not have, could not have amused himself to be a Celadon with Éléonore Duplay, and, I should add, such a role would not enter into his character. Besides, I can attest it, he told me twenty times that he felt nothing for Éléonore; her family’s obsessions, their importunities were more suited to make feel disgust for her than to make him love her. The Duplays could say what they wanted, but there is the exact truth. One can judge if he was disposed to unite himself to Madame Duplay’s eldest daughter by something I heard him say to Augustin: “You should marry Éléonore.” “My faith, no,” replied my younger brother. Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1834) page 90-91

My older sister had been promised to Robespierre. Memoirs of Élisabeth Lebas (written around 1844)

The eldest of the Duplay daughters, who Robespierre wanted to marry, was called Éléonore. Robespierre allowed himself to be cared for, but he was not in love. Notes historiques sur la Convention nationale, le Directoire, l’Empire et l’exil des votants (1895) by Marc Antoine Baudot, page 41

All the historians assert that [Robespierre] carried out an intrigue with the daughter of Duplay, but as the family physician and constant guest of that house I am in a position to deny this on oath. They were devoted to each other, and their marriage was arranged; but nothing of the kind alleged ever sullied their love. Recollections of a Parisian (docteur Poumiès de La Siboutie) under six sovereigns, two revolutions, and a republic (1789-1863) (1911)

I personally believe in the version reported by Élisabeth Duplay and Joseph Souberbielle here (that is, that Robespierre and Éléonore were unofficially engaged and nothing more) since they were the ones to be in a position to actually know. The account of Charlotte Robespierre, who I suppose also was in this position, I’m dismissing due to her obvious jealousy of the Duplays. Plus, she’s done so many other shady things that lying about an engagement is honestly the least I expect from her at this point (and she lied about her own so…)

#robespierre #éléonore duplay #maximilien robespierre #élisabeth lebas #ask

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josefavomjaaga · 8 months

Text

Andoche Junot to Laure Junot, 13 October 1812 (II)

Sorry for taking so long with the next translation. This is the second (and last, I think) letter from Junot to Laure, intercepted by the Russians, his reply to her letter that I translated here. But just so it’s mentioned, before this one, the volume also cites a letter from Junot to his secretary Cissout, lecturing the poor guy on having sent him the wrong silk stockings and having bought eau de Cologne from the wrong manufacturer. Before giving him instructions on how to distribute the letters to the ladies, that is. This second letter was to be given to Laure only some time after the first.

Junot, Duke of Abrantès, to Duchess Laure d’Abrantès, rue des Champs-Elysées, Paris Mojaisk, 13 October 1812, 6 P.M. I had written to you this morning, my dear Laure, in order to complain about you not writing to me, and I told you that I was eagerly awaiting the letters that would scold me. I've just been given this one, which I'll send back to you after I've taken a copy, because it's quite curious. The first page pleased me (to the word: pity, which is not noble), but when I saw that I was a fool, all the more guilty because I was the master of recovering my reason, and that I was a sick man who did not want to take medicine, I said to myself: "My Laure still has her head full of recipes from Aix and is a little out of sorts to tell me that it was not to me that she promised her esteem with all her friendship as the price of the noble efforts I would make to deserve the name of man, by stifling an unhappy feeling. This poor Laure adds that she has been saying this to me for many months. To this I exclaimed: "But it was eight months ago the day before yesterday that I last heard you speak!" Perhaps it's in her letters that she wants to tell me, I reread thirty-nine of them straight away, which are still there in front of me, and I didn't see any of that. As I don't have the drafts of my letters, I couldn't remember if I had asked you for medicine for my wound, and really if you sent me some balm, I wouldn't know where to put it. I do have a few scars, and I'd be very happy if you could erase them if, by making me more beautiful, it would add more charm to our friendship. Until then, the only thing that had gone wrong with the rather disjointed letter was the misquotes. But the general confession brought me back and I saw clearly that a woman who so openly accuses herself to her husband has made up her mind and from now on will have nothing to reproach herself for. Go on, my Laure, don't give rise to feelings that you can't share, and even less to those that you feel ready to share; the others are all right, but those void, I don't want. How much I would have shared your happiness, if your letter had actually found me between my mother and my son. Alas, this first happiness has long since been taken from me, and when will the other come? Will it be without bitterness? I thank you for not having made the trip to Geneva that I would have disapproved of; you didn't tell me about it, but that's all right. No doubt the happiness and glory of your life now lie in your children, and by allowing me to keep my unhappy feelings for you, by sharing them a little and giving me your esteem and all your friendship, you would not be deprived of any happy future, but we should only say these things to each other.

I think, my good friend, that this letter you expected from me is good and reasonable, but I beg you not to press me to change my feelings.I assure you that you would lose out, and allow me to use the word constancy to express the sweetness of this feeling. It is always better to fear a little than to give oneself without reserve to such a sincere friendship, which always ends up not being all that severe. As far as I am concerned, I guarantee you that no matter what you do, you will never take away from me the hope that one day my friendship will be stronger than yours and that I will be able to drag it along in spite of it; so, if you want to believe me, keep your fears, they are necessary. The report on your health is what I disliked most about your letter, because it tells me that you are still suffering. Farewell, my Laure, write to me often, but more directly than that. P.S. - Send me my last letter, which made you feel such pity, I'll burn it.

As to the »Write more directly!« - I share the feeling, your Excellency 😁. And it applies to you, too.

But mostly I’m struck by Laure Junot apparently really writing about her husband being close to his long-dead mother.

I’ve tried to look into the personal situation of Laure and her Andoche a bit but I feel I would need to read all the 14+ volumes in order to understand. So I’ll just leave it to @snowv88 or other people in the know to hopefully shed some light on it all. Is Junot deliberately misunderstanding some of what Laure had written?

If it is of interest, I can also translate the letter to Laure’s friend Madame Caroline "Calo" Lallemand, who was instructed to write to Junot about how Laure reacted to this letter.

#napoleon's marshals #jean andoche junot #laure junot #russia 1812 #russian campaign

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solesommerso · 2 years

Text

Old Friends | Jim Street x Molly Hicks

Summary: after the break up of street and Chris, Street goes out to a bar where he runs into an old friend

Authors note: this can be read as platonic molly and street or them starting to get together again, I wrote it with the intentions of platonic although it’s fine either or

Warnings: hurt/comfort, swearing, alcohol, drinking, break up

Word count: 2k

Street honestly shouldn’t be that surprised to how this is all playing out. It took five years for Chris to make up her mind, that should’ve pushed Street away, but it didn’t and he stayed. He pushed and tried and hoped that Chris would come around to them being a couple.

It’s not like she didn’t have feelings for him, she kissed him, she came to his house to get them together, she said it was okay for them to be together now that she was leaving swat. It’s just that she also shot him down a million times over and made excuses and was one of the main reasons they weren’t together sooner.

And sure Street could’ve made Chris talk to Hicks when she was still on the team and he could’ve forced her to sit down and talk about them. But Street wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t make Chris compromise herself like that, even if he’d also be compromising himself too.

At times it felt like Chris forgot that Street was also risking his ass when he’d mention them getting together or that she never really gave a shit about his actual feelings. Street knows that it’s all said and done now, they’re together, or they were together as Chris just broke up with him.

It took five fucking years for Street to finally get the girl he’s been madly in love with since day one and only took six months for it to fall apart.

Street could tell Chris was never as into them as he was but he had hope. He really thought Chris would be less worried and less unhappy since she was now working the safe house and they could be together with no secrets. Only Chris still acted like they were just best friends in front of anyone on the team, she’d barely even kiss him in front of them, it hurts Streets heart.

So he tried to assure Chris that it was fine and there was nothing to be concerned about now, she just didn’t get it. Maybe that should’ve tipped Street off that she was gonna leave him. Or maybe the missed phone calls, or ditched date nights, or stupid arguments that ended in her ghosting him for days on end- he should’ve know.

Street feels frozen in place as he stands in the middle of the Swat parking lot after Chris just came to break up with him, mid shift. She’s going to Mexico to help some girls and that means he can’t be a distraction.

“I love you so much Street, we just can’t be together, it’s not meant to be.”

It’s so similar to the fight they had in this very parking lot a week before Chris left Swat all together. The words are almost identical. He really should’ve seen this coming but fuck it hurts no matter what.

“Hey where’d Chris go? We were hoping to see her before she left.” Streets still just standing there as the rest of twenty squad appears. He swallows once to subside the nauseated feeling in the back of his throat before looking at Hondo. He seems worried, there’s probably a redness to Streets eyes that’s making him concerned.

“She broke up with me, she’s going to Mexico.” He forces the words out thickly and watches as the teams faces fall instantly.

“What! But- but you guys were solid, what happened?” Lucas big eyes blink at Street, searching for some answer Streets not sure he has.

“It’s not meant to be as she put it. I waited five fucking years for “not meant to be” Mm I am just- so fucking stupid aren’t I.” Street rubs a hand down his face with a dark chuckle, of course Chris would pull this shit, he should’ve just given up the first time she said it was too complicated.

“Street-.” Hondo looks like he wants to jump in and save the day but there’s really no saving this. There’s not a magic speech Hondo or Deacon can say to fix this. It’s over with, done, set in stone, dead and buried.

“I’ll never get those five years back- alright, I’m gonna go to a bar, count it as a sick day or something- I don’t really care anymore.” Street sighs and walks away from the team, at least he’s already out of uniform from the undercover he did earlier with Tan.

Driving his bike over the highway and through the backroads all the way to Long Beach does bring Street a little peace. It’s hard to think very hard when your body’s vibrating and the sound of traffic drowns out any other noise.

The bar he’s gets to is one he’s been at a million times, it’s where he had his first drink at twenty one, where he took Luca the first time Luca convinced him to go out after he got on the team, where Hondo found him after his brother died and Street wanted to drink his own weight in vodka.

It’s dimly lit and run down, there’s the same bartender that’s worked here for years, an older man that has a crooked smile and the best jokes when drunk. Street takes one of the worn out barstools and scans the room over, a whole two people are in here.

It’s to be expected as it’s four pm on a damn Friday and the night crowd hasn’t filed in yet. They will and when they do, Street will leave to go home and sleep off however many drinks he can down.

“What can I get you?” Street glances up at the man, even he looks worried about Street.

“Just a Jack and coke.” The drink gets made quickly and Street sips it slow, it’s cold, nice with how humid it is out today, it slides down his throat smoothly and makes his hands damp with condensation.

He’s not really sure how much time passes or even if it’s been more than two minutes but someone taking the stool next to Streets startles him back to reality. His drinks basically just melted ice at this point and the bar top has a small puddle from where the cups sat for however long.

“Hey stranger.” Molly? Street looks up to, sure enough, see Molly Hicks sitting beside him with a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” She hates bars for one, and for two, they’re about forty five minutes away from anywhere Molly would be normally.

“Well I went to your work but you weren’t there so I checked your location and you were here.” Street raises a brow.

“Looking for me?” Mollys ears move back slightly when she smiles, something Streets always noticed about her, he finds it cute how genuine it makes her smile feel.

“I came to return this, I’m moving out of my old apartment and found it.” She holds up one of Streets Swat shirts. It’s just a simple one and Molly easily could’ve just thrown it away or turned it into a rag.

“Thanks, that the only reason you’re here? I think I can live without a t shirt.” Mollys eyes dart to the table top before back up at Street.

“I um- I kind of just needed to be around someone I can trust.” Streets face falls instantly, Mollys not one to say something like that out loud, or to even think that.

“What’s wrong?” He sits up a bit straighter but Molly shakes her head.

“It’s nothing, I just haven’t been around people I actually enjoy being around in a while. Works been stressful lately. It’s nothing to worry about, but I am worried on why you’re sitting at a bar when your whole team is on a case.” Street lets the anxiety ease in his chest as he downs the rest of the watered down drink and looks over to the wall behind Molly before back at her face.

“It’s Chris.” He says and Molly hums. She has this look on her fact that Streets seen a million times, usually when she brings work home and needs to figure something complicated out, it’s focused, her eyes squint small and nose scrunches a bit.

“Did you guys fight? She’s not in swat now right? I remember my dad saying she left and you guys got together.” Molly gives half a smile that Street doesn’t even bother to try and return.

“She broke up with me.” Molly goes wide eyed a moment but quickly composes herself.

“What? Why? You-.” She stops herself short with a huff of defeated air through her nose.

“It wasn’t meant to be as Chris said, she’s going to Mexico for work and can’t have me around while she does.” Street sighs with his head dropping down to stare at his hands cupping the empty glass on the counter top.

“That makes no sense.” Molly says in a suddenly annoyed tone that has Street snapping his head up to her.

“What?” He gaps.

“It makes no sense. Listen, Street, I know you and me weren’t the best relationship in the world but you weren’t someone that was a bad boyfriend. Not to mention how in love with her you were, seriously even before we started dating I knew you loved Chris, it was so damn obvious and she loved you too.” Molly rambles quickly as Street sits up to listen more intently to the quick words.

“You’ve probably loved her since before I was even around and- and she can’t just- when my dad told me you were together it made me happy because you’d finally be with who you wanted. I don’t get how Chris can throw that away for some Mexico job.” Molly settles with a slight red tint of annoyance on her face.

“Uh- I mean yeah- I’ve been like in love with her since five damn years ago and it took six months for her to just, stop loving me, just up and leave like it’s nothing. She says she does love me but I don’t believe it anymore, I should’ve just gotten over her before any of this happened.” Street runs his hands through his hair with a groan.

“Y’know I loved you, when we were dating I really loved you Molly and I fucked that all up for Chris. She just- fucks with my head.” Molly nods very seriously before calling the bartender over and ordering two shots of something Street didn’t even hear.

“I loved you too for the record. And Chris is an idiot, you deserve better than that shit.” Two tequila shots Street learns as Molly slides the small glass to Street and hold hers up.

“You deserve better than the shit I put you through.” She shrugs before clinking their shot glasses together and throwing hers back, Street follows in suit with a small wince at the burn.

“A lot happened while we were dating but you always tried your best. And hey- we lasted longer than you and Chris, I count that as a win.” Street laughs for what feels like the first time in months, it’s been dull with him and Chris, more than dull, it’s been downright depressing at times.

“That- that is a win. To us winning.” Another pair of shots show up and they drink them down quickly.

Soon enough Molly and Street are drinking and dancing around like idiots as they’re the only ones really there and the music is scratchy from the radio in the back of the room. Streets not even sure he’s ever laughed so hard and definitely hasn’t smiled this much in a really long time.

They are both being obnoxiously loud and laughing at an annoying rate but neither care, they can’t, not when they’re both having so much fun. They’ll probably be hung over or need an Uber home - it doesn’t matter right now, all that matters is the inside joke Mollys trying to get Street to remember while Street tries to beat how many shots Molly can take down one right after the other.

#writing #jim street #molly hicks #molly x street #js #mh

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dredshirtroberts · 2 months

Text

as usual, interactions with my family (benign and in fact only the bare minimum of an interaction) have caused me to have Complex Feelings.

my grandpa's got cancer. this isn't news, it's just a fact and has been a fact since 2016. Pancreatic cancer that has metastasized outside of his pancreas (specifically in his lungs - it's damn lucky it's slow growing and he's a contrarian by nature). He is no longer doing chemotherapy about it, but he's part of a very small percentage of people who survive more than 6 years with it. so. You know. there's that.

He's doing well, all things considered. Again, it's slow growing cancer, he's somehow lucked out with it. I'll know we're close to the end when he stops wanting to get out in his boat and go fishing. Or stops working on the boat in general. I'm very fortunate to have known all of my grandparents for my whole life so far - even if some of them ended up being major bigots apparently. oh well, when you've got 6 you're allowed a couple duds.

My grandpa and grandma are trying very hard to love me. They've adjusted to the name once i mentioned "hey, literally no one i am still talking to calls me my old name anymore, i know i said it was okay to use in the transition stage but i honestly forget to answer to it, would you mind?" and then they immediately went for the change. they still struggle with my pronouns but like. grandpa's got cancer, i'm not going to fuss at him for using she or her for me (especially during a season where like. i am more girl right now, whether i like it or not lol. it's...complicated). I'll correct grandma later down the line if I gotta but like.

they both just assume i'm one of those Strange Lesbians and like, i'm not not one of those, it's just not what i told them when i came out. so like. it's complicated.

I... cannot get over how much they were emphasizing how happy i sound now. Grandma even mentioned it in her note in the card i got sent for my birthday. I mean it's true, i am very happy up here. I'm happier than i ever have been, in fact. I have never been this well off mentally before.

it sucks a little that they like. didn't understand how very deeply unhappy i was before now. that they have to hear it now, how very different i am when i am excited and enthusiastic and looking forward to an actual future for once.

it sucks a lot that i don't feel comfortable sharing more with them, that i don't feel like i can reach out and request comfort or assurance from them. It sucks a lot that they're not the only ones that I feel like this about in my biofamily.

I didn't know I didn't trust any of them until i found people I do trust. until i found people i know i can rely on when things are bad even if only to be in the bad with me so i'm not alone.

the birthday call and card were both somewhat of a response to my update email - one so that grandma could double check to make sure the address would receive mail so i would get my card, and two so that we could catch up a little.

We didn't discuss my health issues at all. the questions i had about our family's medical history, I didn't get any of that information from them. I could have asked. Should have. Forgot. Could probably call them back and bring it up but...

well. Grandpa's got cancer. I don't want him worrying about my heart. or my bones. or my pain. he doesn't know me that well, after all. it would be an unnecessary burden to him. Especially since all of that information was in my email, and they never actually confirmed they got it, outside of me reminding them that the address was in the email - and then the card got to me.

so they got the email. they have it. they have chosen not to respond with any useful information. Just like my aunt on that side. just like my sister.

just like my mom would have, if i'd sent it to her.

at least i know she comes by it honest.

like. bright sides: money for my birthday hell yeah that's a lot of money to buy weed with (i will likely end up using it for bills mainly, but. still). grandpa's still doing okay (desperate to get back out on the water with his fishin pole) and like. i think we're all in a place mentally where we're just. accepting of the inevitable. which like, not fun, but of the pre-grief options, i'll take it. Grandma sounds like she's doing alright and it's getting warm out so she's going to be able to garden which will help her feel even better probably. i don't have to cut off yet another section of my biofamily at this point, which is always a nice thing to not have to do (i won't lie...they are on thin ice, i'm just... delaying things because, well. grandpa's got cancer. wouldn't you?)

i...am allowed to not deal with people who stress me out and make me anxious, even if their genetics did contribute to my existence (and especially if they didn't) but... well. grandpa's got cancer. and he's always been a bit of a dick. he's actually mellowed out a lot, and well. they stress me out but it's... very different from my mom (their daughter). so. they get to be on the same boat as my aunt (their other daughter) and my sister. i won't do it yet, but. well. i might do in the future. it depends on them.

i hope i don't gotta carve out more of my biofamily in order to have peace. i'd like to keep some blood connection to that side of the family in my circle. i just might need to cast a wider net and involve people i really don't know all that well into it. no time like the present to start building new relationshps with folks, right?

anyway i'll go back to trying hard not to focus on the background planning for what i'm going to have to be ready for when funerals start happening.

#heads up i talk about my grandpa's cancer dx from 8 years ago and the way my brain has been dealing with that for that same time period #i'm cool about it but like i know it's a sensative thing for others so just be aware #also as usual a cw for my family being mentioned in general #i'm glad they know i'm happy now and they know what that sounds like #and that they're glad i am happy #are the important things i guess

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danger-noodle-uwu · 3 years

Note

I'm new to tumblr so is this how you do request? May I request the brothers forgetting mc's birthday and later remembering it. How would they react? Maybe they were busy or something. Your choice if you wanna do the dateables too.

Trigger warning

Mentions of Angst/sad/slight comfort

Lucifer

Busy almost all the time, the first-born barely spent time with our dear Mc. He would try to finish the work only for more to be slammed on his desk.

Never would his brothers acknowledge his efforts or the sacrifices he made for them. Instead they'd mock him. Mock him for being absent at all family times. Mock him for doing what he does.

It was once again such a time, such a day. They didn't bother to care what the day has held for his beloved. It was their birth.

The birth of the one who truly changed his life along with his brothers. It was such a blessing yet he forgot about it. Entirely.

The Avatar of pride was strong, Lucifer wasn't. He was weak. Vulnerable. Especially against his brothers whom he adored with his entire being.

And the mocking words had stabbed him deeply, which made his current state as to how it was. Drunk. Wounded. Crying.

Rubbing his eyes, he awoke to a mess of his office which screamed the need for cleanliness.

During the process, he found the calender. A sweet calender gifted him by his doll.

A smile had crept on his face as he lifted it for what? Perhaps to calm the unsettling feeling in his bones that told him to run but where he didn't know?

While their lover was, Mc wilted much like a delicate flower would if the sun stopped shinning, they were laying curled on the floor of his room. Mc needed him.

How could he forget his own lover's birthday?! even after he promised... it hurts.. so much...

Yesterday. The poor human cut the cake wished themselves a happy birthday when he didn't...crying...in pain...

The realization hit hard. He ran to Mc's room as fast as he could. A shiver ran his spine and the horror in his stomach grew as each and every step was taken.

Yet could not find them, so he went over to his office expecting a fuming Mc.

He was once again not right, for his beloved was breaking down as he took them into his arms. Consoling.

He apologised and comforted them. Reassuring them over and over again. Reminding them his heart still is with them and no-could ever take it away.

He later threw a party, just like how you wanted. You. Him. And the growing fragrance of the candles surrounding you both.

Though late as it may have been, it was the best birthday the innocent human had. Smiling while he kissed your knuckles, he asked for your hand in marriage.

Never had you expected this...

"I Found the reason for my smile, the day I found you. Will you let me be the reason for your smile and marry me, my love?"

Mammon

As most had expected, he forgot your birthday due to witches or the modeling gig, he did not.

Instead he forgot about preparing your birthday gifts. His excitement had always gotten the best of him.

The Avatar of greed did not have enough budget to prepare the gift you dearly wished for, therefore multiple part-time jobs and skipping RAD became more often.

Despite the scolding, he didn't bother and worked on, just imagining the smile you'd make once you saw what he got you.

''I'll make Mc smile. Just one more hour extra and the budget would be*chef's kiss* '' he thought as his co-workers packed their belongings up.

It was late night and the moons shined brightly over the streets of devildom however he wasn't much worried because it was not like your birthday the next day. (it was)

Stretching his arms, he woke up around 1:35 pm due to his fucked up sleep schedule, only to be greeted by your excited figure cuddling him.

Grey-haired demon thought it was the Delirium before the day itself. He was wrong.

At first he acted totally oblivious to the fact any special day was just around the corner. He knew that surprises even more better!!

And then your great mammon ignored you for a while to rid of the risk of you following him to the destination.

Though his plan was to get your hopes down, he ended up making you cry. It hurts a lot especially when the love of your life forgets your birthday afterall you gave him everything he wanted on his.

The visit was successful. He even had extras left to treat you!!!

The was big achievement for someone who hated working to the slightest, to work for 3 weeks and multiple jobs!!!

But before he left, the seller mocked him about being a damned day late for this gift could have been sold at a better price if not booked.

That is when it all clicked and he panicked. Today was your birthday! Oh shit!!

He rushed home back to you. As he ran, he planned how to ask for your forgiveness.

" Oi Mc I'm sorry!--Oh hell no!!" "Mc I fucked I am sorry, please forgive afterall I'm your first man.--fuck this shit imma just play smooth."

Panting, he paused right before the door of your room and knocked lightly. Seeking your permission to enter.

You lazily opened the door for him, tired after shedding many tears for him.

Mammon instantly knew what to do. "Oi Mc I'm sorry for not wishing ya' a happy birthday earlier but I was busy buyin you somethin', here darlin' close your eyes."

Hearing his apology, you felt oddly happy and followed his request. Soon you felt a soft cold metal cling to your wrist. A bracelet, huh.?

"Open y'er eyes, human." On your wrist was bracelet that said 'His human' and another matching one was on his wrist which said 'Their stupid' . (Now isn't that adorable?)

"I was savin' up for this, so ya' better appreciate it. Hmph!" Giggling you yelled 'I love you' at him making him blush immediately.

However, when he spoke, he spoke genuinely and not in tsundere.

"Ya' make my life worth living. You bring smiles to my face, and y'er touch shows me how much you love me and care for me. Y'er my friend and my lover. Happy Birthday!"

Leviathan

With envy filled to the brim, Leviathan was very focused upon you and having your attention only for himself. To not let anyone snatch you away for they could better be than him, he'd make notes to treat you like royalty and improve his guilt-tripping habits.

Guilt, regret, shame. His heart screamed within the confines of his chest, as he rubbed your back assuring you that he still loved and will continue to do so.

It was his envy. It had always been his envy. Who always held him captive like a bird in a cage, he struggled to break free. He just couldn't.

The fault was his for if he hadn't given in to the jealousy named poison, you would be happily celebrating your birthday rather than crying in his embrace.

The fault was his for if he hadn't screamed at your friends who just came to congratulate you about getting in a relationship with the demon you very much loved and to wish you a birthday.

They left because of him. Not because he humiliated them but he forgot his own lover's birthday and called them a pathetic cheater, as they didn't feel like reminding of what the day was. They had left off with their friends, returning at HOL at night only to get yelled at.

Caring friends as they were, they tried convincing Mc to leave which his love refused. So, they left pitying the poor human.

No-matter how much Mc begged her companions to stay, they didn't.

Oh the suffering for His Normie, they ran upto him vulnerable-ly and started hitting him weakly, breaking down. Why was he? Why was he like this?! Why must he always leave you crying due to his envy?!

"Hey easy...calm down please, I'm sorry. I really am sorry, please forgive me and I promise I will make everything right. Please." "How..?" "Please trust me. My love." "Are you sure..?" "Yes...yes...I love you..."

Could you really trust his statement? You wondered. He could forget his word much like how he forgot your birthday.

The great admiral of hell's navy was true to his word, and successfully united you again with those who almost abandoned you or it seemed like--but no they were just disappointed. They were never going to do such a thing.

The meet went smoothly, and soon the the sun was setting casting shadows along with dying light, it was a dreamy sight for anyone.

Leviathan had known that he still had to make upto you properly and therefore, he took you to the cosmos of frodane.

Red, blue, yellow, any colour you could possibly think of was there, shining as brightly you were.

Taking in a shaky breath, the Avatar of envy gave you a bouquet, each flower consisting different scent which complimented the other.

The shimmer in your eyes gave you away and he gave you a sweetly addicting kiss while mumuring...

"I always cause some mess. It is never your fault. I’m sorry for making you feel unhappy. I cannot believe that I cause hurt to you. You are my only hope for my life. I promise you that I will do my best to make a better version of myself for you, my 3rd waifu~"

-------------------------------------------------------

And here we go... the pain and the suffering. Lol

Hope you like it and stay safe everyone. ♡♡♡

Have a good day!

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cas-kingdom · 4 years

Text

Dad

A/N: Thank you to my anons for helping me come up with some perfectly Geralt-like explanations of parenthood. <3

Despite the summary, Geralt doesn't outright call Akela his daughter in a couple of these, but the point of the story is to show how he can call her that without actually saying it, if that makes sense. Still fluffy and (dangerously) sweet! Also a nice little Yennefer-Geralt scene here.

While writing number 4, I listened to 'Scared' by Jeremy Zucker.

Title: Dad

Summary: Three times Geralt called you his daughter, and the one time you called him ‘Dad’.

Words: 4607

“I knocked it off the cart.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why would I try to steal something I have money to pay for?”

The old man’s face turned sourer, if that was at all possible. “Oh, you have money?” He expectantly stretched his hand out, palm up as his fingers twitched. “Pay me, then!”

You rolled your eyes. “But I’m not buying them!”

“You tried to steal them!”

“I did not!”

“I saw you!”

“What you saw,” you spat out, leaning forward, face the picture of anger, “was me bumping against your cart and knocking a couple apples off—which I apologised for.”

A noise somewhere between frustration and rage spewed from the man’s mouth and he shot his arm forward like a snake striking to attack, grasping the front of your tunic and tugging you forward. “Listen here, girl—”

You clenched your fists and readied to bite back, but before you even had a chance, the man’s hands were ripped from you, and he was shoved away.

“Get your hands off her,” a stony voice ground out, voice brooking no argument. Geralt stood tall and menacing in front of the hunched old man, head tilted slightly to the side as he glared at him. He knew you were often capable of looking after yourself, proven clearly when you stepped beside him and a look of smugness appeared on your face, but he also knew that that would likely never change how much the anger flourished inside him when he saw someone lay their hands on his child in a way such as this.

The old man pointed a shaky finger at Geralt. “You stay out of this, Sir!”

You scoffed, and Geralt spared a glance down at you, briefly raising a brow. “What, exactly, am I supposed to be staying out of?”

“The little bitch tried to steal my produce!”

“I didn’t!”

“The little bitch,” Geralt said, holding out an arm to stop you from lunging, “is my daughter. And if you ever speak in that manner to her again, you won’t be able to speak another word.”

The man looked ready to respond with vigour, but at the last moment his eyes averted to the sword and the daggers at Geralt’s waist, and the cogs in his brain began to turn as his vision wandered up to the white hair and the amber eyes. He shut his mouth and stepped back, resigned.

“Forgive me,” he said. He appeared as though he was ready to run before he grabbed one of the apples you had knocked off his cart and pressed it into your hands, a forced and nervy smile showing on his lips. “Here, take this!”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled victoriously, taking a bite from it and turning to walk off as you called back a quick, “Thank you!”

Geralt sighed deeply and hummed, giving the man a final glare before following after you. “He was right. You are a little bitch,” he remarked.

You grinned and tossed the apple in the air, the sunlight glinting on the green fruit as though in triumph. You handed it to him and watched as he relented with a roll of his eyes and took a bite. “Waste not, want not!”

“What’s it like?”

Geralt lifted his head to look at Yennefer. She was lying on her side opposite the fire, her head resting in her hand, and she seemed contemplative. Curious, in a way, which was odd for her, though what could he really say about that? It wasn’t as though he’d known her long.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

Yennefer jerked her head in the direction he’d been staring in for the majority of the past ten minutes, where you were fast asleep, curled under blankets, head beside Jaskier’s, who was wandering in the land of dreams himself.

He looked at you a moment longer before turning back to the mage. A hint of his own confusion danced in his eyes, but she spoke before he could open his mouth to question what it was that she meant.

“Parenthood,” she clarified, her voice softening. “What’s it like?”

Geralt rose an eyebrow, briefly floundering for words at the, quite frankly, surprising question. For a woman who was all invulnerability and strength, it was something he hadn’t expected to come from her. Not to mention he didn’t often think about what she’d asked.

He glanced away and shook his head. “More trouble than it’s worth,” he told her with a short breath of a laugh.

The corners of Yennefer’s lips drew upwards. She fidgeted with a stone on the forest floor. “I’m serious.”

His other eyebrow shot up. “So am I,” he assured her. “She may seem sweet, but underneath it all is the monster I’m most afraid to go up against.” He offered her a rare smile, which she returned, and for the first time in a while both mage and witcher felt peaceful. It was blissfully quiet—the only sound being Jaskier’s snores and incoherent mumbles—and it was dark, giving the two the serenity they needed after the trials of the previous days.

“It’s… hard,” he said seriously, despite the fact he was admitting that he, the infamous Geralt of Rivia, found something difficult. “You learn new things every day.”

“What kind of things?”

“Everything. About yourself, about her, about the world in general… you make decisions you probably would never have thought about before. You have responsibilities you wouldn’t have believed would ever be associated with you.” He let his eyes wander over to your sleeping form. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing most of the time. You can feel so… so lost at it, right until you start to realise the only thing that’s keeping you grounded is the same thing that gave you the title of father. It…” He paused, leaning forward to poke a stick into the dying fire. “It gives you something to live for, and at the time I found Y/N, that was what I needed most.”

Yennefer’s lips curled into a smile as she slowly sat up, tucking her legs underneath her. “It sounds tiring,” she said, glancing down for a moment, and Geralt nodded.

“It is. But the rewards outweigh the difficulties. It’s something you’d give up everything to keep.” He looked across at her, noticing her loosened shoulders, and realised for the first time that he took his title of father for granted. Yennefer’s mutations had made her sterile, and though he was the same, he’d still somehow found a way to get past that, even though he’d never once pondered on the possibilities of it before he’d found you. Yennefer hadn’t been so lucky, and as he looked at her, he found that that reflected perfectly in the eyes he now viewed as… sad.

“You’ll feel that someday,” he said without thinking, and when she glanced up, he nodded in your direction. “When you have your own.”

Yennefer gazed at him, violet eyes piercing the amber of his. They stared at each other for a moment, no words passing their lips but every meaningful word being said nonetheless, until Jaskier snorted in his sleep and the both of them ripped their eyes away, returning to their stone and their stick.

“Thank you, Witcher,” Yennefer spoke up a moment later, and Geralt nodded once.

“You’re welcome, Mage.”

Geralt turned his head down to look at you. You were standing beside him, absently tugging on the neckline of the dress you’d bought from a market that very morning. You were clearly irritated, sighing in annoyance and muttering under your breath every so often.

When you noticed him looking, you shook your head, face every bit unhappy. “I don’t want to be here,” you ground out.

He rose an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Why are we here again?”

“Lord Lyon invited us.”

“And how do you—” You scratched at the back of your neck, the foreign material rubbing it raw—“know Lord Lyon?”

Geralt glanced down again and frowned, slapping your hands away from your red neck. “I saved his sister from a werewolf,” he said, instinctively tucking a few strands of hair that hadn’t made it into your plait behind your ear, “and he insisted my attendance at his feast tonight.”

You rose an eyebrow at that, finally relenting in your fiddling and letting your arms hang loosely. “Your attendance,” you picked out. “I could have stayed at the inn.” He ignored that, as you expected, and you sighed, shoulders slacking. “You never usually care for extra repayment,” you said. And it was true. He didn’t. He preferred to do his duty as a witcher and not stick around to see the aftermath of his hunt, except to accept his money. He didn’t care for physical shows of thanks. It was better that way, for you and for him. But he’d, for once, genuinely been concerned for the lord’s sister, so he’d accepted the invitation with the intention of only staying long enough to gain information on her wellbeing before leaving.

Geralt lifted his chin as he noticed a familiar man enrobed in silk and jewels walking towards you. He took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead of undoubtedly mindless babble about his life and anything else the lord wished to ask him.

“And you never usually say no to free food,” he remarked quietly to you before forcing a tight smile at the open-armed, freely grinning man when he stopped in front of him.

“Geralt of Rivia!” he greeted, and you turned your head to meet him, only just refraining from raising your brows at the sight that met your eyes. You weren’t used to seeing royalty or regality of any sort, so you were never one to shy from your overly dramatic opinions of how these people dressed and carried themselves. You were quite certain all the clothes on your body wouldn’t amount to the price of a single ring on his finger, even though you’d had to beg Geralt for weeks to buy you the new leather boots on your feet now, just about hidden by your long dress.

Geralt had made an attempt to dress nicely, too. He’d washed and brushed his hair—and made several mock lunges (and one actual one) for you when you’d continued to tease him about it—and was wearing clothes that, though giving him an extremely regal look of his own, seemed unfamiliar to you. You much preferred him in his loose tunics and trousers, hair muddy and tangled in knots that he wouldn’t give a shit about until he needed to (which was barely ever, unless you were counting surprise and sudden invites to feasts such as this).

“Lord Lyon,” Geralt said with a small nod. “How is your sister?”

The lord reached forward to clap him on the shoulder, and this time, you did raise a brow, knowing your witcher’s dislike for such actions. Sure enough, Geralt’s smile grew tighter, and you could see the lines on his forehead become more pronounced. Perhaps in different circumstances—definitely in different circumstances—you would have laughed at his predicament, despite his clear discomfort, nevertheless this time you had to do with quickly turning your head to the side and stifling a grin.

“My sister fares well!” Lyon told him, not removing his hand. “She’s been asleep since you returned her safely to me, but the healers assure me she will make a full recovery. Thank you again for your unforgettable help, my friend!”

“Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”

Lyon stepped back, finally letting his hand drop to his side, and the corners of your lips twitched when Geralt subconsciously rolled his shoulder. “Well, this is the only other way I could think of repaying you when coin did not seem enough. A good meal!” It was at this moment, when you were shuffling from foot to foot in boredom, almost reverting back to your scratching and tugging, that Lyon noticed you, and he rose both eyebrows, glancing between you and Geralt. “And who might this be?”

“Y/N,” Geralt introduced, stopping you with a firm hand to your shoulder. You looked up at the lord, offering a smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”

Lyon tilted his head slightly to the side in obvious interest, disregarding Geralt’s last sentence with a wave of his hand. “You mean she’s yours? Your daughter?”

You continued to stare at the man in front of you, unbothered. You were well used to being called his daughter—it was easier for him to agree when people asked if you were, and you sometimes wondered when exactly he’d given up on correcting people. If he’d ever corrected people in the first place.

“Your daughter?” Lyon repeated at Geralt’s lack of response.

“Yes.”

“I thought… well.” He looked a little sheepish, but Geralt was all too aware of what was coming. “I was always told that the trials witchers underwent made them—”

Geralt interrupted him before he could continue. “They did. I am.” He squeezed your shoulder. “She’s not mine by blood. But she is mine.”

Lyon stared a while, thinking to himself, before he abruptly smiled in acceptance. “Very good. Though I would never have taken you for the parent type.”

“My apologies,” Geralt said, inclining his head, “but you don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”

A soft smile graced your lips and you glanced down to the ground, your heart swelling with love you could only ever feel for him.

“Quite right.” Lyon was clearly apologetic. He opened an arm out and motioned for the two of you to follow him. “Come, let us eat. You can tell us all exactly how you killed that werewolf!”

The hilariously dismayed look Geralt sent you after that made you snort.

How had it come to this?

“Geralt?” you whispered, daring to edge closer. He looked so pale, even in the short rays of moonlight radiating down. His skin was pallid, white hair muddied and hanging in knots around his face. His eyes were shut, his lips were set in a straight line, and even as you shook his shoulder, he did not move.

He did not move.

Geralt always moved. He had long since trained himself to wake at the first sound or touch that did or didn’t come from you. And yet now, even as you doubled your attempts and shook him so hard you were sure he’d be disorientated were he awake… he remained still. Still and silent. Completely dead to the world.

Dead.

Your heart soared, not for the first time, and you sat back on your haunches for a moment, staring with eyes as wide as the yellow moon looming over head. It was almost as though your unconscious mind was waiting for him to wake up. Willing him to wake up. Because you knew good and fucking well that without him, the point of remaining in the living was completely lost on you.

Reluctantly, your mind swiftly hurled you back. Back into damn memories of the swings of his sword and his shouts of exertion and pain as he fought with the monster that had suddenly stormed where you’d been resting. You should have stayed behind the rocks as he’d ordered… you shouldn’t have listened to the clash of metal hitting sturdy skin and bone… and you certainly shouldn’t have jumped up from behind the rock and screamed his name, leading him to whirl around in panic and giving the beast time to throw him against a large boulder. You could still remember the sickening crack of his head hitting the solid stone. That would have been the perfect time to scream his name, but you’d found that no words had been able to escape your clenched throat. You’d felt like you were being strangled, and your heart had stopped beating for the longest second as you’d watched with absolute terror…

He’d been telling you a story. You’d been lying beside him, exhausted eyes staring up at the starry sky as his voice lulled you to sleep. You couldn’t even remember what the story had been about, all you’d been focused on was the comfort his voice offered, and for that reason you had not registered at all when he’d abruptly stopped speaking. He’d waited a moment, eyes narrowed, before quietly standing to his feet, picking up his sword as he went. All his senses had been alert, and were he an animal, his ears would have been pricked up and forwards, listening for any noise that sounded at all abnormal.

He’d taken calculated steps forward, hands tight around his sword’s hilt, boots making no sound as he stepped over fallen leaves and twigs. And then he’d stopped, standing completely still, save for his eyes, which roved the area in front of him. He’d turned his head the slightest bit and harshly whispered your name, but it had not been enough to rouse you, and you’d stayed sleeping until less than three seconds later when what you now believed to have been a kikimora burst from the cover of the trees, screaming raucously and lunging towards Geralt. You’d bolted upright and he’d yelled at you to hide yourself as his sword came clashing down on the thing, not waiting to see if you’d done as was asked before moving to attempt to lead the monster away.

That had been only three minutes ago. One and a half minutes ago, he’d been thrown against the boulder. One minute ago, he’d managed to use the last of his strength to pierce the beast’s hide with a cloying crunch, mixing with both his and the kikimora’s shrieks of agony. You had looked on with trembling hands as it fell to the side, completely unmoving, and watched, waited, for Geralt to stand to his feet.

When he hadn’t, you’d taken one trembling step forward, hands cold and in fists at your sides, before running the rest of the way, not caring in the least that there was a possibility the monster might still be alive. All you’d cared about was the possibility that Geralt might not be.

You stared at him now, hopefully waiting for his eyelids to flicker, or a finger to twitch… but there was no movement.

You shook him again, harder now, but it didn’t work, and with a desperation you had never felt before, and your breathing quicker than ever, you hurried closer towards him, grabbing the sides of his face and shaking him, slapping him, hitting him… anything that had a chance of waking him.

“Geralt!” you shouted, voice cracking. You slapped him again, pausing only when you felt something wet and sticky coat your right hand. When you pulled it back, the sight of red met your eyes.

You stared at it for a moment, hands shuddering, before the red and the blackness of everything else melded into one as tears filled your eyes. A tightening of your throat and a short intake of breath was all that was heard before gut-wrenching sobs tore through your chest and you fell forward, clutching your bloody hand to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as your grief poured from you in an onslaught of irrepressible tears.

“Please, please, wake—wake up!” you choked out, your forehead resting against his chest, hands gripping his ragged tunic. “Please! I can’t—I can’t—Please! Geralt! You can’t die! You’re a witcher! Witchers don’t die! Wake up!”

But he didn’t.

You harshly breathed in with as much effort as you could muster, and the smell of blood overpowered your senses… yet, at the same time, there was still that hint of forest and greenery which made him Geralt. The scent that was often the only thing that could make you fall asleep. The scent that you only had to catch for a moment before you immediately calmed. The scent that, even now, amidst your hiccups and sobs, caused the briefest feeling of serenity to swirl through you before it vanished as the new, metallic aroma abruptly tickled at your nose.

Another sob racked your body when the scent disappeared and you shook your head. “Daddy…” It came out as a mewling whine, so broken and utterly devastating that it would have made even the heartless cry along with you, but there was no other sound… no other noise in the darkness of the forest around you except the guttural cries wrenching from your throat.

It was the feeling of being alone which scared you the most. The feeling of… being without the one person who’d ever made an ounce of sense to you. The one person you loved more than life itself and who probably loved you even more than that.

You would rather die alongside him than live in a world you knew he no longer walked in.

A moment passed, and you sat there, hunched over with your head on his chest and your tired hands slowly slacking in their hold on his tunic. Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks wet and tracking the mud and blood which had inadvertently transferred from his clothing to your face, and you were shaking so much that when a slight tremor rippled beneath you, you took no notice of it whatsoever.

At an exhausted yet almost incoherent groan, you blinked, opening your eyes despite it doing nothing against the blackness of you face pressed to him. You tried to silence your cries as much as you could, holding your breath, not quite willing to believe it but hoping more than you’d ever hoped before all the same.

“Fuck…”

And you bolted upright, your eyes blinking against the blurriness. You wiped at them, your heart thumping, blood pulsing through your distraught and exhausted body, and looked on with shock as Geralt—yes, Geralt!—slowly raised his arm and brought his hand to the back of his head. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as his brows furrowed in obvious pain.

“My fucking head,” he rasped out, and you let loose a noise of relief, suddenly and without warning bursting into tears once again. You launched forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. He groaned and finally opened his eyes to peer down at the mop of hair in his line of vision.

He gulped down the sickly feeling in his gut as best he could, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and after a moment the memories returned to him, causing him to shut his eyes once more at the force of it. He returned his attention to you, lowering his hand to place it on the back of your head.

When your sobs grew, his frown deepened and he tried to lift his own head, swallowing back bile when the throbbing ache increased. He felt nauseatingly terrible and instead dropped his head back to the hard rock below him. “Hey…” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and he didn’t really trust the words coming from his mouth. “It’s alright.”

You shook your head. “N-no! It is-isn’t! I thought you were dead!”

He sighed unsteadily and moved his trembling fingers through your hair, trying his best to block out the discomfort (which was a nice word for agony). “I’m not dead,” he told you, and you finally lifted your head, showing him the extent of your hysteria. You looked as though you’d been bawling for years, and he shook his head softly, raising his other arm to wrap around you and pull you back towards him. His head was pounding, he knew he was bleeding in more places than one, but to be perfectly honest, he was simply happy to be alive, and to be holding his child in his arms, however much he would be covered in tears and snot by the time he finally gathered the strength to push himself up.

“I thought you were,” you croaked out, and he rubbed his thumb across your temple. You reached up, grasping his hand, and he narrowed his eyes, blinking at the sight of blood coating your own.

“Is th-that yours?” he asked, the words feeling funny on his tongue as he stumbled over them. You sniffed and glanced to where he had turned your hand over in his.

“No,” you said, “it’s yours.” At that open revelation and reminder, you lifted your eyes, haphazardly wiping your hair from your face and blinking against the tears that still didn’t seem to be stopping. “It’s from your head. Does it hurt?”

Geralt’s face contorted into one of pain yet again as he reached his hand to his head, bringing it back and intaking a sharp breath once he saw the blood. “Damn,” he grumbled. “Yes, it hurts. Like hell.”

You unconsciously bit at the inside of your cheeks and watched him as he lowered his arm and shut his eyes. Your heart continued to pound and every so often your ragged breaths were interrupted by a hiccup. “I’m sorry,” you muttered after a short while.

He blearily opened his eyes to look at you. “Why?”

“I called your name,” you told him, “and you turned around.”

He nodded faintly in remembrance. “Why?” he repeated.

“I don’t know.” You swallowed thickly, tears fogging your vision again. “I was stupid. I just… got so scared, and I didn’t—I didn’t want you to… to…”

At your rising distress, he pulled you down to his chest again, ensuring your ear was conveniently placed over the left side of his chest. His heart was slow—perhaps a little faster than normal yet still slow all the same—but in the silence of the forest he knew you would be able to hear it and let it soothe you.

It worked, and the two of you stayed there for a while. Geralt fixed his attention on his own breathing, trying to match yours as he felt your pulse through his hands. He wondered briefly how far the nearest village was and if he could risk asking for medical help. Perhaps he could reach Triss in Novigrad, and both he and you would have a safe place to recuperate.

His muddled mind was interrupted when he turned his head and noticed the kikimora for the first time, lying in a rotten clump on the ground a couple feet from him. He swallowed the knot in his throat and shut his eyes, remembering all too clearly what had happened and, more importantly, how close it had been to getting you. Unconsciously, his hands tightened around you, and he slowly breathed out, calming himself before he let his emotions reign over him. You didn’t need to see that.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, more to himself, but it assured your all the same.

“Next time, I want to fight with you. I don’t want to watch. I’ve been trained for these moments.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“I thought you were going to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He shook his head. “No, no, never…”

He shut his eyes. He knew that the day he left you would be the day the stars burned out and the world became shrouded in darkness. To leave you would be to leave his heart, and that was the one thing that, no matter how battered and bruised, he would hold onto and keep safe with every fibre of his being.

It was his duty, after all.

As your father.

Witcher Masterpost

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

You Feel Insecure Around The Other Member’s Girlfriends ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

“I think I’m just going to go out and grab some air,” you whispered to Jin, excusing yourself from the table.

“Everything alright?” He questioned, quickly following behind you as you made your way out of the restaurant, taking a seat just beside the door, embracing the quiet.

You sighed gently as he took a seat beside you, resting his hand against your leg. “They’re always so loud, I just needed a bit of quiet for a moment, it was giving me a bit of a headache.”

“Is that the only problem?” Jin pushed, sensing by the look on your face that there was more to things. “Is it really just because the girls are loud that you feel this way?”

Your shoulders shrugged back at him, “I’m not as loud as them,” you frowned, “it makes me feel like I shouldn’t be there when I’m not screaming like they are.”

“I don’t want you to be loud, that’s not who you are.”

“But it’s who they are.”

“Exactly,” he smiled, “I don’t want you to feel like you need to change to match them all, you’re my girlfriend, not theirs, the others can date loud people if they prefer.”

Your head nodded, resting down against his shoulder, “It’s still really loud in there, how do they never end up with a sore throat or anything?”

“I don’t know, but I hate it just as much as you do.”

Yoongi:

“She keeps looking at me,” you complained as Yoongi led you up to the bar to grab yourselves a drink.

“Who?” He questioned, watching as you pointed in the direction of Jimin’s girlfriend at the table. “Are you sure she’s not just listening to what you’re saying?”

Immediately your head shook, reading the situation a lot better. “Anything I do, I can feel her eyes watching me. It’s like she’s waiting for me to disappear or do something wrong.”

“I think you’re overthinking,” Yoongi sighed, trying to defuse the situation. “The two of you have never said a word to each other, maybe she’s trying to say hello.”

You glanced back at him as the bartender walked over to you both. “If she wanted to say hello, she could have done it two months ago when we first met.”

“It’s not easy being the new member of a friendship group.”

“Why are you talking so much sense?”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I know it’s a strange feeling for you to have a new girl around the table, but maybe you just need to be the one to be brave and start talking.”

You glanced back at her as she rested into Jimin’s side, “she does seem to make him very happy, so maybe I’ll have to get used to her being around.”

“I promise, she’s not as bad a person as you think she is.”

Hoseok:

“Woah,” Hobi gasped as he walked into your bedroom, “we’re only going out for coffee, it’s nothing fancy.”

“I know,” you smiled, glancing at your makeup in the mirror one final time. “I just thought I’d make a little bit of an effort seeing as everyone’s going to be there.”

Straight away he could tell what was going on, walking across to you. “I know you’re doing it because Soyeon and Jinsoo will be there, you only started doing this since we met them.”

“But they always look so nice,” you protested, running a hand through your hair, “I need to be as pretty as they are; I want to look good for you.”

His lips pressed delicately to your cheek, “I want you to be the person I fell in love with, you shouldn’t change, especially for other member’s girlfriends.”

“You really think that I look as nice as they do?”

“I think you look better.”

“Now you’re just being kind,” you grinned, but Hobi’s head shook, pulling you away from the dresser. “I’ll wear this today, and then I’ll reconsider for the next time.”

He smiled gently, squeezing against your hips, “please don’t compare yourself to any of them, you’re special to me just as you are, alright?”

“I promise, no more comparisons, I’m done with it.”

Namjoon:

“Am I invisible?” You questioned across to Namjoon as yet again you were cut off as you tried to join the conversation.

“Well, I can see you,” he teased, but quickly stopped when he failed to see you smile. “I know she keeps interrupting you, but just don’t let it get to you.”

Your head shook, having done that now for several months. “It feels like I’m being pushed aside, everyone loves the fact someone new is around, I’m like a broken toy these days.”

“All of the boys adore you,” Namjoon assured you, intertwining his hand with yours. “Do you have any idea how often they talk about you and ask about you?”

Your shoulders shrugged innocently, “I bet it’s not as often as they ask about Hyomin, she seems to be the one in favour nowadays.”

“I’ll speak to them if they make you feel this way.”

“No, it’ll just make things worse.”

“Y/N, I don’t want you to feel this way,” he whispered, making sure no one else could hear. “If they knew you felt this way, I know that they’d all feel terrible about it.”

Your eyes glanced around the whole table, “let’s just see how things go, I don’t want to be that girlfriend who sounds like she’s jealous.”

“You’re insecure, there’s a difference Y/N.”

Jimin:

“Will Dayeon be there?” You called out to Jimin as he let you know a team dinner had been planned for the evening.

“Yeah, I expect so, Jin mentioned he’d ask her,” he responded, following your voice into the living room. “Why do you ask? Has something happened between the two of you?”

Your head shook, but as you fought back your tears, Jimin could tell there was more to it, sitting down beside you until you spoke. “I feel like a rookie girlfriend whenever I’m around her.”

“That’s nonsense,” he exclaimed, furrowing his brows. “Just because she’s been a part of our lives for a couple more years, doesn’t change the fact you’re a girlfriend too.”

Your eyes glanced across as he held underneath your chin. “I feel a bit like a new member who’s come in and spoiled a successful group sometimes.”

“You’ve not spoiled anything; you’ve only added to it.”

“You really think so?”

“Speak to Doyeon tonight, I promise you’ll see that she really enjoys having another girl with us now too,” Jimin instructed, “the two of you can bond over your terrible boyfriends.”

Slowly your smile began to reappear as Jimin continued to cheer you up. “My boyfriend isn’t terrible, but she’s with Jin, so she must be a little strange.”

“I can’t argue with that, she must be crazy.”

Taehyung:

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you whispered into Taehyung’s ear as he leant across to peck your cheek.

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” He asked, to which you quickly shook your head, turning your body inwards to face him. “Talk to me, what’s going on?”

You sighed gently, “I can’t fit in, everyone else can-do things perfectly, but I’m not Korean. I’m fed up with making all these mistakes in front of people, I feel like I’m being judged.”

“This is about Chaemin again, isn’t it?” He asked of you, “I told you to stop comparing yourself to her, just because she’s Korean doesn’t change anything.”

Your head shook instantly in response. “You don’t understand, she can talk and do things that I can’t, I keep dropping my chopsticks for goodness sake.”

“We all do things like that from time to time, even as Koreans.”

“But not as frequently as me.”

“Perhaps not,” he admitted, “but if we all went to your home, we’d all look a fool too. Even Chaemin wouldn’t be as perfect as sometimes you think she is.”

The corners of your mouth turned up lightly as he held onto your hand. “Maybe one night I need introduce you all to my world a bit.”

“I think that’s a good idea, it’ll make you feel a lot better too.”

Jungkook:

“Y/N’s the youngest out of all of us, so maybe she should get the drinks,” Yoongi’s girlfriend called out to the table.

“That’s not fair,” Jungkook quickly interrupted, sensing the comment touched a nerve with you. “We’ll go together, I’ll give her a helping hand with them.”

The two of you stood up from the table, feeling Jungkook’s hand rest against the small of your back. “I’m fed up with feeling like a baby rather than a girlfriend with all of your friends Jungkook.”

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say as you reached the bar. “She thinks she’s being friendly; I don’t think she realises that her comments are upsetting you.”

You glanced between him and Yoongi’s girlfriend. “It just makes me feel like I don’t deserve to be here, like I’m not as good as anyone around the table.”

“If it helps, you’re easily my favourite person around the table.”

“You have to say that.”

“Maybe I do,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I still wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Maybe I can talk to Yoongi about it.”

Instantly, your head shook, “I don’t want her to think that I can’t cope, hopefully she’ll stop soon. I just need to treat as an initiation or something.”

“If it continues to make you unhappy, I’ll fix it.”

---

Masterlist

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siriusmydeer · 3 years

Text

breakup with your girlfriend, i’m bored.

james potter x fem!reader, platonic!remus lupin x reader, james potter x lily evans

summary: james’ journey onto finding love; just not with you.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: unrequited love, angst, swearing, crying, mentions of food, self doubt/insecurity, pining, mentions of murder, mentions of marriage and kids

— 0:00

‘You got me some type of way

Ain't used to feelin' this way

I do not know what to say

“so, mates, i think m’finally getting somewhere with lils!” the tone of excitement thickly lacing the bespectacled boys words. “m’sure of it.” he continued, a bit of confusion in his words but still the same amount of excitement as before.

his brows were furrowed and he picked at the skin of his fingernails trying to relieve himself, further wringing his hands a few times before looking at his friends for their input.

“m’so— m’so happy for you, prongs. really, that’s great.” your voice faltering as you continued to speak, trying to scoundrel up a tone of excitement that would’ve played off well enough. instead all you were feeling stone cold truth of dejection.

But I know I shouldn't think about it

Took one fuckin' look at your face

Now I wanna know how you taste

Usually don't give it away

But you know I'm out here thinkin' 'bout it’

a fake smile plastered your face, trying to push back the tears that wanted to desperately prick at your eyes. you tried to further block them from escaping your waterline as you hear the boy jabber close to every single day about the red head he had been continuously fawning over.

the day went subsequently normal; potions, transfiguration, break period, plan pranks and dinner. but unfortunately for you, you didn’t have the privilege to share a messy dormitory with the four other boys leaving their conversations and discussions open about you and more your feelings.

“d’you think y/n was a bit off today?” peter asked abruptly from the place he sat on the oak wood floor, catching the attention of the three other boys who were seated on their separate twin beds. furthering to retain all memories of you from that day attempting to identify where you might’ve seemed ‘off.’

‘Then I realize she's right there

And I'm at home like, "Damn, this ain't fair"

Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

“maybe a lunch a bit, she looked a little melancholy, i guess.” sirius answered this time, recalling the memory of you speaking in a very disconsolate tone. “y’think it’s anything major, or just stress?” he questioned again, beginning to worry about his close friend.

“dunno, i don’t think so.” the lycanthrope added to the conversation. he recalled james’ new confession about the red headed girl, and your extremely unhappy expressions following; of course noticing a bit at the time when it was occurring but just assuming you had a bad day with evan rosier pestering you for a date.

maybe... maybe she— but they’re best friends? his thoughts were extremely close to scrambled, remus was an observer, he was clever and sharp-witted; but this, he couldn’t figure out.

You could hit it in the mornin'

Yeah, yeah, like it's yours

I know it ain't right

“oi, y/n!” a deep voice called in the distance, putting your light jog to a stop in the middle of the courtyard leaving you to stand in the grass. swiftly turning around you were met with the taller fawn-haired boy, who looked tremendously determined.

“i’ve, uh, ‘ve got to ask you something, and it may seem foolish, but i think i just still ask you.” his voice hurried like his panting breaths from running across the school to find you, asking around the library and your dorm mates.

“yeah, moons, sure, anything.” affirming the boy who looked a bit confused, and worried but you didn’t know if it was for his sake or yours.

he grabbed your wrist in his palm pulling you on the prickly grass over to someone more private like to speak with you. “d’you— d’you like prongs? more than friendly...” the boy sputtered, further acknowledging your blown eyes like someone had just committed murder in-front of you.

But I don't care

Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored’

“i— uhm, well, that’s a bit— why d’you think— remus, what the fuck!” your words taking a halt every few seconds with a recurrent sputter trying to figure out where the question had even came from, or how he even knew.

“i saw— i saw the way you acted at lunch the other day. i jus’ wanted to know if it’s true.” he asserted, no present lingering touches of judgement in his tone.

remus knew what it was like to be judged, so whenever you had the urge to jabber out all of your problems he was the boy you had always ran too first. knowingly, or not. but he felt particularly disappointed in himself that you hadn’t trusted him with this potential secret.

‘This shit always happen to me (Yeah)

Why can't we just play for keeps?

Practically on my knees

“yeah— i do.” you admitted with a breath, guilt taking a pang at your heart. and anger taking a swig at your brain; how could you be so fucking stupid.

“remus, but you can’t— you can’t tell him, or anything.” your tone was hushed, and only meant for remus’ ears. feeling a tinge of embarrassment warm onto your cheeks, knowing someone you loved clearly didn’t reciprocate those feelings.

“i swear, i won’t. but m’here for you, i don’t want you feeling like you can’t tell me anything.” his words soft, and his tone genuine. why couldn’t you have fallen for someone like him? but instead, you crush on someone who was in love with someone else.

But I know I shouldn't think about it

You know what you're doin' to me

You're singin' my songs in the streets, yeah, yeah

Actin' all innocent, please

“c’mon, y/n.” he beckoned you to follow him, resting his arm on the curvature of your shoulder feeling his side press against your smaller one and guiding you to transfiguration with him.

why? why did you have to be so damn foolish? because it was her, with her beautiful red locks, her perfect maroon lipstick, her exceedingly amazing grades, her ability to be silly for a moment and loosen up. why couldn’t you be her? why couldn’t you have what she has.

it’s because it’s simple; you weren’t lily evans and you were never going to be.

When I know you out here thinkin' 'bout it

Then you realize she's right there

And you're at home like, "Damn, she can't compare"’

“guys! guys! she said yes!” james announced whilst scuttling across the mahogany floor of the common room. his actions at a halt flopping his body over the scarlet-red couch and a grin on his lips.

“who said what?” sirius muttered, glancing up from the map for a moment before looking back down in ascertainment.

“lily-pad! i asked her on a date and she was like, ‘yeah, fine, potter. but if you’re late i’ll kill you.’ just like that!” he pretended to play out the conversation for a moment, his thrilled movements and inflection almost animated from how happy he felt.

‘Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

You could hit it in the mornin'

Yeah, yeah, like it's yours

I know it ain't right’

remus briefly glanced at you, concern swirling in his hazel irises, meanwhile, your eyes widened for a moment. you plastered yet another fake grin onto your lips, about to congratulate your crush on winning a date with his all time infatuation.

“prongs! oh my merlin, that’s amazing, i’m so happy for you!” putting on the best impression of exhilaration for your best friend, the act only remus could piece together and break apart.

“no way! prongs, mate, i knew you could do it!” sirius spoke, his tone fein for his best friend who had been in a pinning coma for the last few years.

‘But I don't care

Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend’

the boys continued to congratulate the boy, remus only giving him a nod and a smile. the marauders paying no mind to it and instead james merrily talking about the red head; his red head.

you weren’t his, and you never would be.

yet another realization struck you, the urge and need to move on present in your nervous system almost begging you to find someone else and to hide away from all the pain that could swallow you whole.

‘With your girlfriend

With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend

You could say I'm hatin' if you want to

But I only hate on her 'cause I want you’

you were now sat on the smooth ivory bedding that perfectly hugged your bed, remus’ body right beside yours. except you weren’t comfortable, you wanted to cry a valley of tears that could’ve lasted a life time.

“why is it her? why couldn’t he want me, am i not enough?” you spoke through broken sobs, feeling remus’ agile hands rub up and down the column of your back.

“you’re enough, y/n/n. he’s a bloody git for not seeing that.” remus spoke, sponging a kiss on your hairline. he felt the wet tears graze his shoulder, slightly contracting at the cold feeling but paying no mind to them as he comforted you.

‘Say I'm trippin' if you feel like

But you without me ain't right

You could call me crazy 'cause I want you

And I never even ever fuckin' met you

Say I'm trippin' and it ain't right

But you without me ain't nice’

“m’the bloody git! i fell in love with m’best friend who’s in love with someone else! next thing you know i’m accidentally setting dumbledores beard on fire, and accidentally spawning voldemort for christ’s sake!” your words mumbled and obstruct from the tears that had over come you.

you whipped your face free from tears for a moment, basically scrubbing the black colour of your mascara down your cheeks. “you’re not alone, you know? m’right here.” his tone, yet again, sincere.

you felt undeserving of his coddling, that your messy puppy love was so little compared to his issues. “i can tell your belittling your problems right now, you’re aloud to be upset.” he whispered, trying to assure you all he could, whilst disrupting you from your senile thoughts.

‘Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

You could hit it in the mornin'

Yeah, yeah, like it's yours

I know it ain't right

But I don't care’

“merlin, she’s fantastic.” the brunette finished his third speech of the day on how ‘amazing’ lily is. yeah as if him pining after her wasnt enough, then what the hell was this?

the devil poking at you for cheating on your herbology test in first year, the time you accidentally tripped peter when rushing to potions, maybe it was the time you put belching power in sirius’ drink everyday for a week because he said you had a flat arse?

what the hell did you do to deserve this incessant torture that had been inflicted upon you. we’re you being dramatic? probably. but the boy you were quite literally in love with could not stop talking about how he wanted to ask another female to be with him, companionship, life, marriage, children. he wanted everything with her.

‘Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, baby, girlfriend

With your girlfriend’

but then again it was also extremely simple.

he just simply didn’t want you.

he wanted lily fucking evans.

‘With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend

With your girlfriend’

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if your username is crossed out that means you gave me the wrong username or your settings for public display tags are off!

#james potter one shot #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x oc #james potter x you #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x reader #lily evans x james potter

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itsallyscorner · 3 years

Note

I am loving your Little Mix member!reader x Tom Holland stuff! Could you write something about Tom comforting the reader after Jesy leaving the band? 💙

Hello darling! Thank you for the request and I’m sorry for taking so long, I’ve been busy with school😩 But it’s finally here, I’m writing about Jesy leaving Little Mix😭Thank you again and happy reading💞

💌.

A Horrible Friend

You knew it would happen one day, but didn’t expect it to be so soon. You knew all the hate and pressure would get too much for her, though you believed that she was strong enough to overcome their hateful words. Jesy is strong. As much as it hurt you and the other remaining girls to see her leave, you were all proud of her for finally putting herself first and doing something for her mental health. Away from the prying eyes of the public, you and the girls knew that Jesy had been struggling behind the scenes. From the constant pressure of being in one of the world’s biggest girl groups and living up to other people’s expectations; Jesy was unhappy.

“Before I share my announcement, can the girls and I just have a moment alone?” Jesy asked, turning towards the management team and producers. Your shared publicist nodded solemnly and ushered the rest of the people in the room outside. You shared a look with Perrie who shrugged with the same amount of confusion as you.

You eyed Jesy warily; her cheeks were a bit puffy and there was a hint of redness in her eyes. Her fingers nervously fiddled with each other while her eyes shifted between you and the girls.

“Babe, what’s up?” Perrie questioned her, concern lacing her voice. Jesy’s lip quivered and her eyes began to water. She shook her head then placed her head in her hands. Jade scooted closer to Jesy and brought her into her arms, “Oh Jesy, what’s wrong?”

You join Jade and wrap your arms around Jesy’s other side. You rest your chin on Jesy’s shoulder while rubbing circles onto her back. When she was ready to talk, she wiped her tears away with the pads of her thumbs, and grasped your hand with hers.

“I just want you to know that I love you all so much. I’m so blessed that you’ve all been part of a chapter in my life and I want to thank you for being the bestest friends I could ever ask for. You have showed me nothing but kindness and love, you supported me through literally anything. Seriously, from the bottom of my heart, you guys mean the world to me. Without any of you, I might not even be here today.” Jesy spoke, fighting her tears and sniffling in between her sentences.

“You don’t need to thank us. We’re a family, Jesy, it’s what families do. We’ll always be here to support you no matter what.” Leigh-Anne reassured her, reaching across the table to take Jesy’s other hand.

“I don’t want you guys to hate me.” Jesy cried quietly. Your brows furrowed together. You squeezed her hand, “Jesy we could never hate you.”

Perrie leaned closer to Jesy, “Jes, what’s wrong?Tell us what’s wrong, please? We’ll do our best to help you, whatever it is.”

Jesy sighed and looked up at the ceiling to hold back her tears.

“You all know that I’ve been having a difficult time. With performing, making appearances—everything just feels like it’s too much now. I love our job and what we do, but for a while now I’ve been finding it hard to actually enjoy what we’re doing. I feel so suffocated always having to please other people and have people expect things from me. It’s to the point where I’ve had to fake my happiness and put on fake smiles just for people to think I’m okay. When in reality, I’m not.” Jesy confessed. From the words that were coming out her mouth and the physical state she was in, you had a feeling of what she wanted to tell you all. Jesy’s voice faded out while your eyes grew watery and your vision blurred.

“In regards to my mental health, I have come to the decision that I will be officially leaving Little Mix.” Jesy announced. The room was at a stand still. Nobody spoke, the only noise in the room were the sounds of you and the girls sniffling and crying to yourselves.

“I’m sorry.” Jesy cried turning to you. You shook your head at her, tears freely streaming down your face. You wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to be sorry, but you couldn’t find the strength to speak without breaking down, so instead you wrapped your arms around her and cried into her shoulder.

Tom heard the front door opening meaning that someone was home. It couldn’t have been Harrison or Tuwaine since they’ve both left to visit their families and Harry was locked in his room sleeping in for the day. Which only left one other person. You.

A wave of excitement rushed through his body since he knew you were finally back home. He also knew that you were coming back from a meeting with the girls, which usually meant talks of the next album, new projects, and possibly a tour. He couldn’t wait for you to come skipping into the living room and tell him all about it. Except you didn’t.

When you usually arrived home, you would loudly announce yourself or yell out a “Baby I’m home” to Tom. Instead, he heard the door distinctly shut and a sniffle coming from the hallway. The quietness and the sniffle was enough for him to worriedly rush off the couch.

“Babe?” He called out, leaning past the wall to peak behind it. You were shoving off your jacket and hanging it on the coat rack attached to the wall when you made eye contact with Tom. A small gasp passes through his lips once he sees your tear stained face. He was immediately by your side, wrapping his buff arms around your figure and letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. Finally in the comfort of your lover, you let out all the sobs you were holding in since the meeting.

Tom softly shushed you, rocking you back and forth, while rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Oh darling, what’s wrong?” He cooed against your hair. You didn’t answer, only letting out small whimpers into his shoulder.

You felt his body tense up and his arms tighten around you, “Do I need to give someone a beating? Who made you cry? Was it someone at management? I’ll drive there right now and give them a piece of my mind for messing with my girl.” After two years of being together, Tom was aware of the mistreatment your previous record label had towards you and the girls. Ever since then, he’s been very protective of you (and the girls) when it came to anything involving management.

You shook your head against his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his torso. Tom suspected that you weren’t ready to speak yet; he felt you hiccup against him while your tears soaked his shirt.

Tom lightly patted your thigh, signaling for you to jump. “How about we go to bed for now? We could go to our room and get all comfy, how does that sound, darling?” You weakly nodded as Tom helped you wrap your legs around his waist. Before he can take you both to your shared room, he stopped by the kitchen and got you a bottle of water.

He gently set you on the edge of the bed, twisting the bottle of water open and handing it to you. He got a pair of his sweats and one of his shirts from his side of the closet and helped you changed into them. Your cries have slowly come to a stop, leaving you to hiccup against Tom’s chest, where your head rested on. He was leaning against the headboard with you cuddled into him.

You shut your eyes after feeling them burn from all the crying. One of Tom’s fingers were tangled in your hair and his other was resting against your back.

“What happened at the meeting?” Tom finally asked quietly.

“Jesy’s leaving the band.” You answer, voice coming out hoarsely. Tom stops his motions in your hair and leans back to get a proper look at you.

“What?”

“Jesy’s leaving the band.” You repeated. Tom’s brows knit together in confusion. Like you and the girls, he was just as shocked as you all were.

“D—did she confirm it? Are you sure she wasn’t just mentioning it? Maybe she was joking, you know how Jes can get.” Tom stammered.

“It’s official Tom! I was fucking there!” You exclaim, voice raising in frustration. Your eyes were now open, meaning you didn’t miss the way Tom flinched at your change in tone. You sigh and shut your eyes again, rubbing your temples with your fingers. “I’m sorry.” You apologized.

“No, don’t be sorry, it’s okay.” He assured you, resting his palm against the back of your head to rest it in between his shoulder and neck. He placed a light kiss on your temple, repeating the action a few times to comfort you.

“Jesy said she couldn’t handle being in the band anymore.” You started. “The way she described it was so heartbreaking. Tom, she said hasn’t been properly happy for months now. She was faking it all this time just to make us believe she was fine.” You explained, voice wavering.

You breathed in, feeling the hiccups starting to bubble from your chest again.

“I’m a horrible friend. How could I have not noticed that something was wrong? I should’ve known that she wasn’t herself, I knew there was something off about her but I didn’t do anything.” You cried, tears forming in your eyes again. Tom frowned at you.

“No, don’t blame yourself for not knowing a thing. You couldn’t have ever guessed that she was going through something.” Tom tried to reason with you. He moved some strands of hair away from your face and tilted your chin up to look at him.

“Y—yeah but still—“

“But nothing. Just because you can’t detect how someone is automatically feeling does not mean you’re a horrible friend. You’re only human, sweetheart.” He cradled your face and made sure that you were listening to every word that came out his mouth. It already hurt to see you cry, but it was worse to know that you were blaming yourself for the departure of your friend.

“(Y/n), you’ve always been there for Jesy. You’ve been there to lift her up when she was low. You made her laugh, reminded her everyday of how beautiful she was inside and out—you’re far from a horrible friend. You’re one of the greatest friends she could have ever had. And I know Jesy would agree.” His thumbs wipe at the tears that trailed down your face. He sent you a small smile, attempting to get rid of that pout on your lips.

“I just wish I could’ve done something. Maybe if I did, she would’ve stayed in the band. With us.” You mumbled. Tom hummed in response, “But darling, Jesy said she was unhappy. Whether you or the other girls were to try something, she would’ve still left. Would you rather her continue to fake her happiness or would you want her to leave and take care of herself?”

You frowned, knowing Tom was right, “I’d want her to take care of herself. I don’t want us to hold her back and make her suffer. She deserves to be happy.”

Tom leaned down to connect your lips with his, “And you deserve to be happy as well. Don’t beat yourself up for Jesy leaving, you did nothing wrong. None of you did. It’s just time for Jesy to move on to a new part in her life and find happiness again.”

You hum sadly, “I know. I’m glad she’s decided to do something for herself for once, it just hurts to know that she won’t be there with us anymore.”

“That’s understandable.” Tom comfortingly rubbed your back, easing the tension in between your shoulders. “But I know she’ll still be supporting you guys from the sidelines, she wouldn’t let you guys get rid of her that easily.” He chuckled nudging you with his shoulders. A burst of happiness erupted in his body when he saw a shy smile form on your lips; he finally got you to smile.

Tom squeezed your shoulders at the idea he came up with, “Ooo, once you guys are on tour again can you put my seat next to Jesy? I’ll get to annoy her the entire time and she won’t have the option to leave because you’ll all be one stage.”

You snort out a laugh and smack his chest, “No! Do you want her to hate me? She can’t stand you.” Tom joined you in laughing, happy to see that you were feeling better.

“You know, I’m gonna miss her poking fun at me whenever I see you and the girls.” Tom reminisced after you both stopped laughing.

“Yeah, we’re all gonna miss that. Especially her embarrassing you every chance she gets.” You added giggling softly against his neck.

It was quiet between you two until Tom craned his neck to look down at you, “You guys are going to be fine without her. I know you guys might think it’s hard, and it’ll take some time to move on, but I believe you girls can do it. I know you all can.”

You offer him a grateful smile and press a kiss to the corner of his lips, “Thank you. I love you so much.”

Tom responds to you with a pout, “I love you too, darling. But you missed.”

“Missed what?”

“My lips!” He exclaimed making a show of puckering his lips out at you. You were about to kiss him but decided this was the perfect opportunity for some light teasing.

“Oh sorry, I couldn’t find them from how thin they are.” You apologized. Tom’s jaw dropped before he began scooting away from under you. From the playful glint in your eye, he obviously knew you were joking. Though he didn’t expect you to crack a joke at him, especially after such a heartfelt moment.

“So is that how it’s gonna be? You’re gonna be the one to make fun of me now?” He dramatically asked you, a hand on his chest.

“Well if Jesy’s not gonna be around as much, someone has to do it.” You shrugged, leaving him on the bed and moving to leave for the kitchen. Tom panned his eyes around the room like how they do in The Office.

“I’m just never going to catch a break, am I?”

#marvel #mcu #avengers #little mix #ally’s request #Tom Holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #jesy nelson #perrie edwards #jade thirlwall #leigh anne pinnock #tom holland fluff #tom holland drabble #tom holland blurb

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Text

Promise Me Your Heart

a follow-up to Good as Gold.

Geralt has never voluntarily brought someone new into his life and for a long time, he wasn't sure how to go about it. Eskel has been with him almost as long as he remembers. Vesemir too. Even Lambert has been around since very early on, but Jaskier? Jaskier still feels new even after all these months. But they're making it work and Jaskier has so much patience that some days Geralt doesn't feel like he deserves.

He had expected things to be a disaster, but they're not. Even his inexperience with relationships and Jaskier's total lack of knowledge of anything monster- and survival-related, things are... good. Geralt is happy.

Then he's contracted to protect a wedding party from a pack of drowners that's been hanging around.

It's a good job. Simple enough and they're offering good pay to ensure the beasts aren't seen by the party guests, but Geralt is hesitant. There's not a scrap of doubt in his mind that he adores Jaskier. He's totally useless out here on the Path, but he tries and what Jaskier can get a grasp on he does well and he does often.

But Geralt sometimes worries that Jaskier's unhappy. Lately, he's been catching him looking pensive, scribbling things in his notebook but never seeming to present a song or poem like he normally would. Perhaps Jaskier has a journal as well. When Geralt was young and struggling to deal with emotions he was told he shouldn't have, Vesemir gave him a journal. It was a relief to be able to get all of his emotions out without having to share them and he wonders if Jaskier is doing the same now. He loves Geralt, so maybe he doesn't want to admit that this life isn't what he expected. Maybe he wants to return to Hagge but doesn't want to hurt Geralt's feelings. The thought of it makes his chest tight, but Geralt hasn't been able to bring himself to mention it.

Because what if Jaskier does leave?

Geralt wants him to be happy, but the thought of losing him now... he doesn't even want to think about it. So taking him to a wedding feels like rubbing a life in his face that he will never have.

When he tells him about the contract, Jaskier is delighted, at least outwardly, but there's a tense scent of worry just below the surface that Geralt is nervous about. He frowns and it earns him a swift smack on his arm before Jaskier presses up against his chest.

"Stop sniffing at me," he scolds, "I know you're doing it. I worry every time you take a job and you can't do anything about it. I love you, my darling. I don't want to think about my life without you, but here you are running off into danger every other moment." Geralt opens his mouth to speak, but Jaskier interrupts. "Ah-ah, I know. It's your job, but I'm still allowed to worry." He tips forward, pressing a soft kiss to Geralt's lips. "Now, let's get you into that armour, hm?"

Jaskier has become an expert at helping Geralt into his armour - and even more an expert of getting him out of it again later. The next few minutes pass in a blur and then Jaskier kisses him goodbye to go and play at the wedding and Geralt is alone again.

He throws himself into the hunt, clearing his mind of any doubts and insecurities. Because he knows how to do this. He can get this done and protect those people - and Jaskier. Whatever Jaskier wants can come later; he'll deal with it in its own time.

But as soon as he's finished - and has thrown himself in the river to rinse away some of the gore - he returns to find Jaskier in the centre of a circle, playing his lute and beaming. This is where he belongs. Geralt forces up a smile and crosses toward them, keeping an eye out for the mother of the bride. She holds his contract and he'd like to be on his way as quickly as possible.

He finds her with little trouble, talking with a group of people and he stands off to the side to wait. She's quick about excusing herself and she pays him extra and promises to pay Jaskier for his performance as well. It's unusual to find someone so generous and Geralt says as much, but she assures him he has earned it for protecting them.

Once everything has been sorted, Geralt slips away.

The woman has offered them a room in her house, but Geralt prefers the anonymity of an inn or the forest floor. Reluctantly, he accepted her offer to pay for the room. And he's grateful for it now, able to just return to the room and collapse without bartering or worrying about being turned away.

He strips out of his armour in the doorway and steps into the waiting bath. It was poured this morning, so it's cooled down, but he warms the water quickly enough - and it's warmer than the river in any case.

Evidently, Geralt doesn't realize how exhausted he is, because the next thing he knows, Jaskier's hands are in his hair and when he opens his eyes, the room is dark except for a few sparse candles.

"Hey, shh," Jaskier whispers as he bolts upright. "It's just me, love. You must have been tired."

He’s emotionally tired, more than anything, but he doesn't say anything. He warms the water again with igni and lets Jaskier wash the remaining muck from his hair before getting out. Jaskier leads him to bed and strips down to his skin before climbing in after him. Geralt clings to him, tucks his head under Jaskier's chin because if their time is limited, he wants to enjoy him as long as he can. Jaskier cuddles closer, holds him tighter, and for a long time, it's silent.

"Geralt?" he asks after some time. "Are you awake, love?"

"Mm."

"Do you ever... want something but you're afraid to ask for it?" he scoffs at himself almost immediately. "Never mind. I know you do. How do you... deal with it?"

Geralt's chest tightens. He's been waiting for this, but he still doesn't know what to say, how to act. All he knows is that more than anything, he wants Jaskier to be able to find the kind of happiness he's given him.

"If you want to go... I understand. I would never keep you here if you're unhappy." Jaskier pulls away immediately and Geralt knew it was coming, but it still feels abrupt and painful.

"Geralt, I- I don't want to go." His voice is low, he smells scared.

"I want you to be happy."

"I am. Geralt. I don't want to leave."

"You looked so happy this afternoon. At the wedding. Surrounded by all those people."

Jaskier huffs a soft laugh and slips his hand into Geralt's between them. "My love. I was happy seeing the bride and her new husband, the love they shared. I was happy because I thought... maybe we could have that, too?"

"You know I love you," Geralt whispers and Jaskier smiles soft at him, leaning up to press their noses together.

"I know love, and I adore you. I- Geralt, I want to marry you." Shock and delight rush through him in equal measures and Geralt isn't quite sure what to do with himself. He stares blankly for a moment while Jaskier looks at him. "Um?" Jask tries. "Say something?"

"No one would marry us."

Jaskier sighs. "Geralt, I know my upbringing means I'm supposed to marry for money or power or some such nonsense, but-" Geralt cuts him off with a soft kiss, cupping his jaw. He really does love that Jaskier doesn't even consider the obvious.

"Not because of your family, Jask. Because I'm a Witcher. No one would willingly bind another person to a Witcher."

"Then we'll have to do it ourselves." Before Geralt can even reply, Jaskier is slipping out of bed and crossing to the other side of the room and his bags.

When he returns, he's holding a length of blue silk in his hand and Geralt recognizes it. He leans up on one arm, focused on the cloth in his hand and Jaskier smiles as he climbs back up onto the bed.

"I thought you might remember this," he grins and Geralt can't help the way his pulse picks up. Apparently, Jaskier notices because straddles Geralt's hips and dips down to kiss him. "Marry me first," he whispers, "and we can do whatever you want with it later, hm?"

"Okay," Geralt breathes and Jaskier beams at him, kissing him quick and hard again before sitting up.

"I need your hand," he says and Geralt offers it freely. Jaskier winds their fingers together and twists the silk around them, tying it in a knot below their joined hands.

Geralt doesn't know much about marriage, but he knows enough to know this isn't exactly the way it's done. But maybe that's better. Maybe going against tradition is more appropriate for them anyway.

"As this knot is tied," Jaskier starts, "so are our lives now bound. The promises we make here tonight strengthen our union; they will cross the years and lives of each soul's growth. Do you- do you still seek to enter this ceremony?"

"Yes," Geralt whispers and his fingers tighten around Jaskier's.

"Do you promise to be a faithful partner in life? To love me without reservation?"

"I will." Geralt pauses and Jaskier nods. "And you?"

"I will."

"Do you promise to stand by me in times of joy and of sorrow?"

"I will."

"I will," Jaskier echoes. Gently, he unwinds the silk and runs his thumb over Geralt's fingers. "I don't-" he cuts himself off, pulling one of the rings from his left hand.

It's plainer than the others and Geralt has never quite understood why he likes it so much, but Jaskier holds it up, showing him the ring of buttercups on the inside of the band.

"I bought this for you so long ago I'd forgotten about it. But I was afraid to give it to you then, so I wore it myself as a way to keep you close. I want you to have it now." He slips it onto Geralt's finger and it fits surprisingly well.

"How long?" he asks and Jaskier shrugs.

"Long enough."

"I don't have one for you."

"That's okay," Jaskier hums. He takes one of his other rings, the one Geralt knows to be his favourite, and slips it off.

"Let me?" Geralt asks and Jaskier gives it to him. He takes Jaskier's hand and he doesn't realize how badly he's shaking until he slips the ring over his finger, pressing it down into place. Jaskier clasps their hands together and leans down to press his forehead against Geralt's. "I think you're supposed to kiss me now," Geralt hums.

Jaskier laughs as their noses bump against each other, then he kisses him, long and soft and sweet. When he pulls away, he doesn't go far.

"My husband," he whispers and something warm and possessive spreads through Geralt's chest.

"Husband," Geralt repeats, testing the word on his tongue. He decides he quite likes it.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #good as gold #rex writes #the witcher

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