#middle left... marriage i am proposing to him

[youraverageaemondsimp]

“You belong to me and me only.” // Aemond Targaryen x Aunt!Hightower!Reader

MDNI

WARNINGS: dubcon, p in v sex, canon typical incest, breeding kink, noncon voyeurism, jealous!aemond, kinda toxic, tiddy sucking, degradation, humiliation, dacryphilia(?), rough sex, choking, reader's age is left up to interpretation. + not proofread // based on this request.

WC: 2k

You were reading a book in allotted chambers when you felt the noise of a stone slide, you sighed already knowing who it was before you got up and turned to face the intruder, arms crossed. Aemond was in your room before he came close to you and embraced you, “Aunt.” he whispers, nose buried at the top of your head before he takes in the scent of you, hair smelling like roses.

You push him away and put your book down on the table before putting some distance between you and Aemond, “You should leave.” you say and he furrowed his eyebrows, “What the fuck do you mean by that?” he grits his teeth and you sigh. “Aemond, I am to be married soon, I cannot continue this….whatever this is, with you.” you speak, “But I love you.” he replies.

“I know, and I love you too, but my sister has declined our betrothal.” you try to speak some sense into him.

“I do not give a shit about my mother's opinion on this matter, I want you. I want to have you, your body and soul.” Aemond says and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at that but you quickly push them away before you shake your head.

“It is useless.” you reply.

“I would rather burn this keep to the ground with vhagar than watch you marry someone that isn't me, aunt.” he grits his teeth as he proclaims angrily.

“My dear, I know it is upsetting, but we cannot do anything about this-” you try convincing him but he lets out a sound similar to a growl before storming off.

Just then a guard informs you of the dinner you were supposed to have with all of the family, yes that included Rhaenyra and her family.

Your maids quickly get you ready for the dinner, donning you in a beautiful green down, with a squared neck cut and slightly puffed sleeves, gold lacing incriminated into the cloth, not extravagant, simple enough dress which was suitable for dinner.

You wore your hair loose, except the two strands that were braided and put together at the back of your head, and then you wore your most valuable gift of all, a valyrian steel necklace, thin braided, with a sapphire drooping down the middle, small and heart shaped.

It was a gift from Aemond, it's not he hadn't gifted you other things, it's just that this necklace was something that you liked the most and the one which held meaning to you, after all it was the necklace you had received after Aemond had confessed his feelings for you.

And just like that, you were ready for dinner.

You sat down on your chair and watched as Aemond talked to Aegon, Aemond had switched places and sat right next to you, which earned a look from Alicent who Aemond paid no mind to.

Dinner was going well, everyone seemed to be getting along, Luke and Jace were on their best behaviour today, it seems their mother had finally reprimanded them.

That was what you thought until you caught Daemon Targaryen staring at you, at first you thought it was a mistake, but he for sure was staring at you, or rather at your cleavage.

You watched as he took a sip of his wine, eyes flickering down to your breasts before up to your face, he gave you a small smirk before drinking.

You noticed how visibly uncomfortable Rhaenyra was and you felt so bad for her, you shrugged off and pretended nothing ever happened, until you heard your sister bring up the topic of Aemond's betrothal.

What shocked you most was that she had said that Aemond was the one who proposed it.

A marriage alliance to the Baratheon House.

Floris Baratheon.

You clenched your jaw in jealousy and anger, you knew you were both meant to part ways, in fact you were the one who bought it up in the first place anyways but that didn't matter, you were angry, at both him and yourself for feeling like this.

You simply gave him a glare from your side, before turning your attention to the man who was sitting across, he still shamelessly checked you out. And then you got an idea.

You leaned in front of the table, pretending as though you were fetching something, causing the flesh of your breasts to almost spill out, giving Daemon the time of the day, his face flickered over to your face and you gave him an innocent smile before sitting back, nobody seemed to have noticed except for Aemond at what you had done.

Then you felt something trail up the front of your leg and you looked at Daemon who now had a relaxed expression as his boot made its way upwards your skirts, trailing a path, and you pulled your legs back, and shot him a smirk, basically inviting him in.

Aemond had begun to notice all this, the way when your hands would linger longer whenever you would pass something to his uncle, the way he stared at your chest, it made him mad.

He proposed this marriage so that you would break and create a scene and get you and him married. But this isn't what he had expected.

He finally snapped when he heard your sweet laugh, which was drawn by daemon's joke, he slammed his fists on the table and before anyone can process it he's pushing the food off and slams you by your head on the table kicking your chair off forcing your legs straight. You were extremely taken aback by this.

“Since you want to parade yourself like a whore, I will treat you like one.” he growls before he hikes your skirts up and you panic, struggling and Alicent looks at this in horror, everyone looks as if they're scared.

“Aemond! Stop this right now!” Alicent tries to come over to help you but he shoots her a look and she backs down, scared that her son might hurt her as well.

He quickly undoes his breeches, he didn't care if everyone was watching him, that's exactly what he wanted, he slipped into your folds with such brutality that made you moan loudly and claw at the table, you tried fighting him off but he held your hands together at your back and let go of your neck, spanking your ass.

“Look at this, already so fucking wet.” he collects the wetness yout produced and smears it across your skin, and just then you were able to feel how wet you were.

“Fucking whore.” he says as he starts snapping his hips at a brutal pace causing you to moan, it was so humiliating, to have everyone watch you while he fucks you, they're too scared to interefere, Alicent closes her eyes at this act of depravity being displayed, and everyone seems to be looking anywhere but whatever was being displayed, and Aemond was visibly annoyed, he wanted everyone to look, to see how much of a whore you were, he wanted to humiliate you.

“Look at this uncle, wasn't this bitch just flirting with you moments ago? Watch how she is moaning underneath me now.” he grunts, thrusting, making your body jolt up the table, and Daemon stares at you, unashamed.

You burst into tears, feeling insulted and humiliated, “Dear aunt, are you crying right now? Don't, you were the one who wanted to act like a whore from the silk streets.” he coos mockingly and you sniff, his thrusts become sloppy before he pushes him to the hilt and finishes inside you, before pulling out and wearing his breeches, before smoothly walking his way out, leaving you unsatisfied and on the table, a mess.

Alicent comes towards you and pulls your skirts down, she seems to be at the verge of crying as well, fixing you up and giving you a hug and you just looked at everything in a daze, mad and humiliated.

But most of all unsatisfied.

Aemond didn't let you finish, but sought out his own pleasure like a cunt.

That's what made you mad.

“Let's pretend nothing happened here, and Aemond.. That mangrown… ” Alicent sighs and everyone nods, looking at you in pity and you just feel tears streaming down your face, and your sister wipes them away.

You left the scene, going back to your chambers, and the sight in front of you made you mad.

Aemond was in your chambers.

“What the fuck are you doing here, get out.” You say sternly and he turns to look at you, you close the door behind you before lunging at him, and he seems taken aback by this but he dodges, and grabs you by your neck before applying pressure, causing you to see stars as the oxygen was so slowly deprived from you.

He pushes you onto the bed, hand leaving your neck as he rips your gown apart, the material tearing, causing your breasts to spill out, he grips them tightly, nails biting into your skin causing sparks of pain, you gripped his hands trying to pull them off but he only held on tighter, “He was staring at these,” he growls, “But he doesn't know that they belong to me.” he takes your breast in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple, causing you whine before he bites down harshly, making you arch your back and grip his hair.

He pulls away and trails kisses down your body, stopping at your cunt, he pulls your legs apart, revealing your folds to him, he moans at the sight, his previously stuff spend leaking outside, and coating your thighs, he licks at of it up before his lips descend onto your pearl, he sucks on it, tongue flicking up and down your bud, you throw your hand back and moan, hands coming up to grip his hair as you rut against his face, he moans into your cunt, relishing in the combined taste of you and him, he pushes his finger inside your hole as he kisses your bud, thrusting in and out, fingers curling upwards to hit your spot.

And soon, you come all over his hands and he moans at the way your cunt clenches around his digits, “Fuck- need to be inside you once again.” he pulls his fingers out and replaces it with his cock, pushing past your folds and sitting all snuggly inside.

He leans down to kiss your neck, biting at it to leave marks, he fucks you at a brutal pace, making your body jolt, and the bed creak against the floor.

He pulls away from your neck to watch your fucked out expression, drool dripping from the side of your mouth, which he leans in and licks it up before kissing you, your moans are muffled by it.

He felt himself near once again, “I can't wait to fill you up, maybe at the earlier display, and my son growing in your womb, she might wed us.” he tells you his plan easily and you nod.

“You'd be so pretty, all full and round of my child, trying to waddle around, trying to keep up with my pace— ah! fuck!” he moans as he spills himself inside you, all the thoughts only spurring him on further.

And you feel your band snap at the same time, cumming along with him, moaning extremely loudly, chanting his name like a prayer.

He pulls out and watches his cum drip out of you, he scoops it up and shoves it back inside, and you wince from the overstimulation.

“You belong to me, and me only, do you understand?” he growls and you nod.

“I want to hear it.”

“Yes, Aemond, I understand.” you say.

And soon, Alicent weds you both, the entire family was quiet during the celebration, knowing the reason why, yet they all congratulated you.

Aemond finally got what he wanted at the end.

———

GENERAL TAGLIST ;

@watercolorskyy @cl-0-vr @chompchompluke @namelesslosers @snowystark @spookyaemond @sweethoneyblossom1 @this-isnt-madness @persephonerinyes @eltherevir @sidni3003 @aleidag1rly @cryingforlife @fan-goddess @hannaeditzs @grungegrrrl @thekinslayersswordhand @aemondsbabygirl

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond x reader #aemond x reader smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut #x reader #x reader smut #reader insert

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to be a surrogate mother for my ex?

IDK if the phrasing is ok, english is not my first language and I have a headache.

This was years back but I dreamt about it a couple of nights ago so it might still bother me.

My ex(25M) and me(25F) had a 2y relationship, we had known each other since middle school but became close and dated until college.

Those 2 years were nice and lovely, I have many good memories and wish him the best.

The last months were very rough, we were having problems and we weren't communicating, I won't go deeper into that.

I didn't know he was planning to propose because marriage was not talked often or at all for that matter. So, when I cut him off, in person, well it was obviously not nice. We still talked but he was very hurt.

A year or so later he told me he wanted to talk to me in private but I kinda had a feeling so I told him whatever he wanted to say my partner would know because we talk about everything.

He was hesitant but accepted.

He revealed he had been having health issues, doctors told him he had just a few years left. What he had exactly he didn't reveal.

He told me before that, yk, dying, he wanted to have a kid but not with anyone, it had to be me. (!?!?!?)

I was... Shocked and also very worried about him, but also what?

He hurried to clarify he would pay for in-vitro procedures so he was not asking for sex, he would pay and cover any expenses, I did not have to be the kid's parent, actually that it was better if they didn't learn about me at all. Nothing would be asked of me a side from lending my uterus and an ovary.

I have to clarify he was/is very dear to me, so I was not through the initial shock of learning he would die soon.

My reaction was probably a bit intense and fucked up. I asked the following:

Why would you ask to have a kid knowing you'll be gone soon??

What will happen to our kid when you pass?

Who will take care of them?

He told me it was almost all planned, his family would take care of the kid he just wanted to experience paternity and leave "a piece of myself" behind.

I thought it was bogus.

Why make that to a kid?

I understand having a kid is a big cornerstone for lots of people but if you know your life is ending why leave a kid behind on purpose? IDK it felt wrong.

It was already WILD for him to ask me, an ex, already in a relationship and a kid, to give him a baby just out of the blue without further explanations than "I'm going to die soon".

I told him I could not answer right away , I had to talk about this with my partner. I was already leaning heavily on denying as it all felt wrong.

When talking over this with my partner I noticed I was very concerned about this not even existing kid and I would not be able to keep myself away knowing they would be orphaned prematurely. So the answer was obvious.

When meeting again I tried to be very polite, I made it clear I didn't agree with his plan and I was not going to partake in it cause I felt it was unfair for the kid.

He was clearly hurt, tried to push a bit(not violence tho) to make me understand what he was going through and how this could be beneficial for his mental health.

It all ended there, he didn't take it well and was very disappointed.

Some additional info that could be relevant, we're now on our 30's, last time I talked to him it was 2 years ago and he seemed fine but almost never answers my messages checking up on him.

Him or his family are not rich nor am I so the concern of his elderly parents having to care for the kid was also a big factor.

He was never too big on having kids when we dated, so this came very out of the blue.

So, AITA for not giving my ex a kid knowing he would die young?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #eyestrain

[devildom-moss]

I recently finished reading the third season of OG!OM and I had a miniature idea... How would Lucifer, Diavolo and Barbatos react if amab!MC told them that when the problems with the three worlds were resolved, he would like to marry them? (I may write with mistakes because I am using a translator, I apologize in advance ☆ｏ(＞＜；))

Thanks for the ask. I wrote based on the assumption that Lucifer, Diavolo, and Barbatos are already in an established relationship with MC where marriage is a possibility, (but honestly, it'd probably be fun to write a less serious version, too). I don't know if these are headcanons or just poorly constructed shorts in headcanon format (oops), but I hope you like it.

M!MC tells them he wants to marry them when the three realms are at peace (Lucifer, Diavolo, Barbatos)

(MC/reader referred to as "man" "husband/future husband" "boyfriend" "fiance") (Diavolo will only be in red for ease of reading in this post primary colors woo)

(Lucifer x m!MC) (Diavolo x m!MC) (Barbatos x m!MC)

(Suggestive in for some parts)

Word Count: +1,900

Lucifer

You told Lucifer you wanted to marry him during one of his softer, more vulnerable moments: when you woke him up after he fell asleep during a long night of paperwork, exhaustion widening his smile upon seeing your face; on one of those rare mornings when he allowed himself to laze around in bed, pulling you in close and savoring the feel and scent of your body; or one of those other long nights when Lucifer’s breath hitched and the sweetest noises left him – it was all for you.

“When things are peaceful –” “Things are never peaceful with my brothers around.” “– when the three realms are stable and at peace, then, we should get married.”

“Oh?” he asked you with a gentle chuckle.

He didn’t believe you at first – not because he had never thought about marriage before. Lucifer assumed it was more likely that you wanted to tease him than that you would beat him to a marriage proposal. His adorable, handsome, wonderful boyfriend would never surprise him by doing something so endearing and unexpected. It just wasn’t – shit! Is he really proposing to me?

Lucifer waited for a teasing “just kidding” or some kind of retreat on your part. When it doesn’t come, his eyes widen, and the heat rises visibly on his cheeks. You really want to be his husband? He already suspected as much, but to have you take the initiative and ask him to marry you was more than he expected.

When Lucifer falls, it’s hard and deep. He knows you so well. He’s so certain of his love that it doesn’t even cross his mind that it could be too early in the relationship to get married.

He glosses over the entire “when the three realms are at peace” thing, because he’s too pleased. Lucifer buries himself in the nearest part of your body he can get to – likely your chest or neck. In part, he’s trying to hide the grin on his face and the blush on his cheeks, but even with his face hidden, you can see the pink tint painting the tips of his ears.

“We already have a pact, and now you want my hand?” he murmured against your skin, sounding almost shy. “Yes. When things are –” “Why w–” “Would you stop fucking interrupting me when I’m in the middle of proposing?!” “Sorry. Do it again. I’ll behave.” His eyes softened seductively. “Asshole.” “Only when you top – and only if you’re being degrading. Usually, I’m your adoring partner.” “Do you want me to propose again or not?” “I do. Try again.”

“Lucifer, when the three realms are united, will you marry me?” Lucifer stared at you, patiently. “Well?” “Why wait?” “What do you mean?” “Why wait for peace and unity? It doesn’t matter what state the realms are in. I want to be with you. I want to be your husband, and I want you to be mine. Marry me now.”

Lucifer would be so earnest and make his argument sound so logical – but maybe it’s easier to justify something you want, too. “I’m serious. I have faith in us – in Diavolo’s plan – but if anything happens, if it takes a long time, I don’t want to wait. I want you to be my husband.”

He would kiss you tenderly and hold you close until you agree not to put off your wedding for some indefinite amount of time. He’ll be ready to go tomorrow morning if that means he can start calling you his husband sooner. How did your proposal to Lucifer turn into a proposal from him?

He’s so possessive and pompous, of course he would be excited to make you his in a more official setting.

Diavolo

You would tell him when he was already on cloud nine: after another successful event that had incorporated elements from all three worlds or after a business deal that would further entrench the Devildom in human-world culture. He had just furthered his goals. You were proud of him. You loved him, and you knew you were going to stand by his side as he achieved his dream for peace and unity, so you told him, “When you succeed – when the realms are united in peace, I want to marry you.”

“Hahaha. You’re full of surprises.”

Diavolo laughs, but it isn’t to mock you. He’s delighted by the proposal – well, admission. He’s gotten requests for marriage before, but he’s never been so happy to hear that someone wanted to marry him. It was unexpected, but he adores that you can surprise him.

It isn’t lost on him that you didn’t actually ask him to marry you or that you were willing to wait an indefinite amount of time. Who knew how long it would take him to realize his dream, but you believed in him enough to wait. The fact that you just told him what you wanted without asking him felt like you were giving him the space and time to think about it, come back, and meet you with his own feelings about marriage. Maybe he was reading into it too much, but he didn’t feel pressured, and that was a comfort. You made him feel so free, supported, and loved.

Of course, he would love to make you his – give you the whole grand royal ceremony, mark you as his partner for the whole world to see, and give you the title of “king” to match his own (because in this speculative future, the throne is his by then; he’ll have earned it.).

You both understand why it would be best to wait for his success. It can be difficult enough to get approval and ensure your safety when everyone just thinks the Demon Prince has taken a human man as his lover. Marriage might cause more instability.

Furthermore, although he doesn’t expect his workload to disappear once peace is achieved, Diavolo hopes that ensuring peace takes more effort than maintaining it. If he’s going to marry you, he wants plenty of down time to travel with his new husband after the wedding. He wants enough free time in his day to cherish you and remind you of the love he holds for you. He wants to make sure he can kiss you, and hold you, and make love to you to both of your hearts’ content. (In other words, if Diavolo commits to being your husband, he needs to meet his daily physical affection quota or he will pout for a week.)

After taking a minute to process your words, Diavolo would pull you against him and press his forehead to yours. It wouldn’t matter if you were in public, either (not to Diavolo, at least. Barbatos would scold him about it being “inappropriate” later.). With a soft, sweet smile, he would tell you, “I better work harder then. I don’t want to keep you waiting too long.” Even if everyone was staring in your direction, he would take that moment to lean in and kiss you tenderly.

Suddenly, Diavolo would feel his ambition renewed. He’d even feel motivated to get home and start on some important plans and initiatives – unless you wanted to go home with him; in which case, he would take you to bed and resume his work in the morning. Nothing could light a fire under him like his beloved partner.

After your proposal, he may occasionally flirt with you by calling you “my fiancé” or “my future husband,” but he’ll only do that in private.

Barbatos

There is no ideal time to drop the news on Barbatos that you want to marry him, which probably plays to your benefit when you tell him while he’s working. You were shadowing him – probably assisting in the kitchen or giving him a hand with some light chores (dusting, organizing, laundry, etc.). “When Lord Diavolo succeeds in uniting the three realms, do you think we could get married?”

Barbatos’s eyes would widen, and he would stop his work for a second. Even if he had used his powers, he never would have believed that this would be the path you would follow. Barbatos took in a deep breath and released it along with the tension in his body before he resumed his work. “No.”

It was your turn to pause. You hadn’t expected such a flat-out rejection, and it hurt. “Oh.” “I’m sorry, MC.” “No, it’s fine. . . but, do you mind if I ask you why not? Are we – do you not love me enough for marriage?”

Now, Barbatos felt hurt. It’s not that he didn’t love you deeply; in fact, Barbatos imagined his love for you was more eternal than most marriages claim to represent. He would vow his love to you under the moon and swear to that celestial body that his love would outlast it. The truth was much sadder.

Barbatos has a duty to serve Diavolo. It seems like the logical conclusion that he would never commit to marriage before Diavolo’s goals were achieved. You were willing to wait, but Barbatos knew that, and he was reluctant to let you.

Without using his powers, Barbatos has no idea how long it would take for that to happen. In the meantime, he wants you to enjoy life. He doesn’t want you waiting around for him for decades or centuries (because he has no intention of allowing you to limit your life to normal human lifespans). If you want to get married, and he doesn’t feel able to do that for you, Barbatos would rather see you marry someone else – certainly, you have no shortage of suitors. (We can all ignore that this is an idiotic reason, right?)

However, the main reason he turned you down is because he believes you deserve the world. Even after the realms are stable, Barbatos will still be bound to Diavolo. Maintaining that peace takes effort as well. Furthermore, Barbatos enjoys his work, and he would never give it up. His time for you would always be lacking. Surely, you would expect more from him after marriage. That wasn’t something Barbatos could give you.

He would tell you as much. “. . . That is why I must decline your proposal.” “Why? Because I’d have to wait, and you would still work for Diavolo?” “Those are not ideal conditions for a husband. You deserve more.” “First of all, we fuck under your boss’s roof. Second, we are different species from different realms. Nothing about our circumstance is ‘ideal.’ Third, I love you, and I love how our relationship works. I would never take you away from Lord Diavolo’s side. I just wanted to cement my love for you with a silly little ceremony – it’s not that important. I will stand by you, and I’ll love you then as I do now – regardless of marriage.”

Barbatos could feel his face flush with heat. He was overjoyed and overwhelmed. “We have yet to even form a pact.” “Yet? And we don’t have to have a pact if you don’t want one.” “Goodness, you are far too accommodating. May I make a proposal of my own?”

Barbatos would pull you into his arms (he had ceased working altogether after “your boss’s roof.”) and whisper into your ear. “I was wrong. I want all of you for myself. Wait for me. When success is in our grasp, I will mark you, and seal our pact. After that, I’ll make you my husband.”

He’ll sound so tender and seductive. So of course, it’s the perfect time to tease him by saying, “Then I can fuck my husband under his boss’s roof.” “Not if I take you out in the garden. After all, you look stunning in the moonlight.”

#requests #moonly-hides #lucifer #diavolo #barbatos #m!mc #ask #obey me headcanons #I think? I'm calling them headcanons okay #I hope that I wrote Lucifer as the most down-bad pathetic whimpering baby boy like he deserves #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

[arcielee]

At last, when all of the world is asleep

Summary: A Dornish princess is the siren call to break the vows of the Kingsguard. Paring: Ser Erryk Cargyll x Dornish!Reader Word Count: 2015 Warnings: AFAB reader, plotting sexual situations, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, finger licking good. Author’s Note: Thank you to my beloved beta reader @sylasthegrim 💜 I appreciate you and your edits, always. Banner by @saradika Title comes from Hozier's lyrics De Selby Part 1 (are we surprised by this?) and the plot comes from this ask: "I want a beautiful princess to corrupt and completely ruin him and make him break his oath." Enjoy! Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @snowprincesa1

The shudder was gratifying, trilling your spine with how his beard tickled the column of your neck, his lips both soft and warm, and the welcomed contrast of his teeth to taste. Your fingers grabbed to pull him closer to the cradle of your hips, burying your face in the nap of his neck and your mouth suckling on his pulsepoint with enough pressure to bruise; you felt him shiver, his voice strangled, husky, when he called out your name. 

To that, you pulled back, abrupt, catching his gaze and your hand coming up to wag a finger. “Good ser,” you tsked, your lips curling upwards, “do not forget who I am.” 

His eyes were glassy, the blue-gray storm that was slowly being swallowed by black. “Forgive me, princess,” he was quick to correct, watching for your response. 

You gave another smirk, your arms reaching to wrap around his neck to pull him back into your embrace, his welcomed musk of blade oil against the perspiration of his skin. “Gentle ser,” you almost purred before capturing his mouth again. 

He was not Valyrian, not the dragon you sought, but the knight was handsome still. And besides, you were sorely out of practice after the imposed propriety of Northern Westerosi customs and the role of a grieving widow. 

When your father had first mentioned the prospect of marrying into the Velaryon House, the Valyrian blood called to you, a curiosity if your babes would be born with silver heads or the crystalline hues of amethysts eyes, and you were quick to accept the proposal. You packed away your dresses and left Sunspear, boarding the ship to travel the Narrow Sea and bring you to your betrothed. 

The marriage had been disappointingly short-lived; your husband was everything you had imagined, handsome, tall, his silver hair knotted back and his clever purple eyes bright, watching you every movement with care, with desire. The consummation had a passion that carried over until dawn, but only after he was gone did your cycle follow to show it did not bear fruit.

“Do not fret, princess,” Princess Rhaenys offered comfort, “you will have plenty of try-agains when they return.”

But she had spoken too soon and you received word that his life was claimed in the Stepstones, though the real tragedy that followed came from the widow garb you were now expected to don. The seamstresses were quick to fit you with the heavy, itchy fabric that covered your skin and robbed you of what little sunlight spilled through to the gray island that you were caged in a figurative sense. 

While your family by marriage grieved the life lost, you mourned your freedom, you mourned the sun you had left behind in Dorne, of the air on your skin that would show in your garments that were now packed away. 

Hope came as a raven, sent by the king and queen of the Seven Realms, extending their sympathies and offering the opportunity to leave the gray slab of land in the middle of Blackwater Bay, with an invitation to the capital so that you could serve Princess Helaena as company. You accepted with the same breath as you finished the words out loud, your claimant that your father’s intention wished you to be an envoy for Dorne, when really your sights were set on a Targaryen prince, your Valyrian bloodlust. 

King’s Landing was bright, bustling with life; you were escorted from the docks inside to the Red Keep where you would meet with the royal family, astutely aware how every set of eyes followed your steps; you gave a wistful sigh, certain of the attention if you could be rid of the widow gowns. 

Gratefully, the queen was considerate of the temperature change in comparison to Driftmark, and the seamstress was sent to recede the fabric in your neckline and sleeves. It still was far from the comfort of your own dresses, but considerably better after half a year of bereavement. It was a taste of freedom, and you dared to add subtle touches of make up, nothing exorbitant, just a touch of tinted beeswax to gloss your lips, a smear of kohl to frame your eyes.

Dorne was a nation that always embraced its sexuality, a sharp contrast to the pious King’s Landing that was laden with symbols of the Seven. You were determined to remarry–two Targaryen princes unwed, two possible dragons to claim–but to catch a dragon, you had to lay an enticing trap, but you wondered if you were rusty with the enforced bereavement having you feeling like a maiden once again. 

So your attention turned to the piety of the Kingsguard that shadowed royalty’s every step. There were those whose gazes lingered well outside what would be deemed appropriate, the blatant, heady lust that enveloped the color of their irises and the bold reds that tainted their features–to which you scoffed. 

A challenge was what you craved, and then you spotted him; his copper tones in duo, though the twins could be distinguished by how they held themselves, as well the fact that Ser Arryk served as Prince Aegon’s shadow. 

Your eyes trained to the other, Ser Erryk Cargyll, the flutter of your lashes when he looked in your direction, the demure dip of your face to coyly cover a smile meant for him to see. 

He did not fracture with your attention, but you–Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken–would not be dissuaded. It was a tantalizing game, something you swore to be playing solo until you spotted it; the tension held in his features by the shackles of his oath, a tick in his jaw or the flit of his smoky blue eyes in your proximity. 

You chose a night to drink, indulging in the imported Dornish wines, a singsong request to be escorted to your rooms that the queen was happy to oblige. 

“Ser Erryk, would you please help the princess to her quarters?”

And now you were at the edge of your bed like you were seated on the throne, watching the Kingsguard that was kneeled so prettily between your thighs spread. He is beautiful, you mused, looking over the warm tones that touched his features, clashing with the copper coloring of his hair. 

He looked up at you, now bare from the waist up, his eyes wide, watchful, waiting for your command, your very breath of direction so that he may obey you; he was an incitant sight, from the cobalt ash coloring of his eyes, wet and wanting, to the flush of pink on his kiss-swollen lips. 

“Please,” his voice was thick. 

You could not help your smile, and asked with your slow drawl. “Please, what?”

“Please, princess,” he began again, his head tilted further to show the length of his neck, and how it bobbed when he swallowed. “Allow me to taste you.” 

You indulged him, enjoying the vibration of his groan with his intimate kiss between your thighs made your own skin ripple with gooseflesh, along with the soft tickle of his beard. But he was a man starved, lapping without purpose until your fingers combed through his hair and pulled him back to meet with your smokey gaze.  

Ser Erryk watched rapt as you lifted your hand, holding two fingers up; you could see the lustful pools of black claiming the coloring of his eyes, the bloom of rust of his beard around his mouth, the glisten of your arousal that shone on him. 

You brought your fingers to press to his bottom of his mouth and he obediently wrapped his lips around; you giggled from his eagerness, from the tickle of his tongue on the pads of your fingers. The spittle broke and added to the rust when you pulled back, his eyes following as your pressed between your folds, watching you bring pleasure to yourself, showing him just how you needed to be touched. 

A pitiful whimper spilled from the Kingsguard before you allowed him to feast again, and he returned with vigor, with purpose. Your wanton moans echoed against the cobblestone. “Princess,” he breathed against your wet cunt, “you must stay quiet.” 

This was impossible to do; your time as a widow left you touch starved and your body was trembling, overly sensitive to his every deliberate touch–how he flourished with the bit of direction shown, and now, oh the gods, the pleasure curled something beautiful at the base of your spine, something sparking with familiarity from what felt like a lifetime ago. 

Then you felt the pressure of his fingers, the careful add of one and the another, and they pushed within you, searching until you saw colors dancing in front of your eyes; Ser Erryk was pleased, focused, pulling you towards the precipice and it washed over you; your skin rose, your nipples pebbled, the cry-out from your lips and clenching response as your pleasure rippled over you with a vengeance, with its reclaim. 

You laid there for a moment, the blood rising to your skin, your chest rising and falling with your breaths, a drunk smile on your lips. 

The knight was now fully bare and was careful to move on top of you, the pale alabaster of his skin and its marking from his service was so warm to the touch. His palms were large, calloused and gentle to peel off your chemise over your head, the tickle of his kisses that worshiped every bit of your skin now showed, glowing with the attention from his mouth.  

“Ser Erryk,” you gasped as he shifted between your thighs, “please.”

He obeyed, flushed, fumbling, his hand dipping between to trail your silken folds, to map your entrance and reached to line himself. He showed consideration with the slow motion of his hips, another gasp from your lips as he filled and stretched your velvet walls; Ser Erryk moved as if you were glass and you wrapped your leg around his slender waist, pulling him flush against you, wishing to be shattered beneath him.

It was all the encouragement needed and he rutted against you, his hot mouth biting into the nap of your neck to muffle his guttural groans. Your mewls were lilted with laughter, the crest of pleasure that rolled over with each of his thrusts; your hand dipped between to tip you over the edge once again. 

The knight could not withstand the sinful clench and he pulled back, a desperate clutch to allow the pearly ropes of his spend against your stomach, his staggered breath as he watched your own fingers coax through your completion. There was a heady look between the two of you before he pushed back to rest on his heels, and you pressed to your elbows, bringing your fingers to your lips and cleaning them, your eyes never leaving his. 

Ser Erryk blushed, pulling away and allowing you to admire his form, the lewd, intrusive thought, the sword in his hand and the sword between, as he moved towards your washbin and returned with a damp cloth; your eyes never left what swayed between his thighs with his each step. He was bashful, handing you the cloth while avoiding your direct gaze as you cleaned yourself, starting to dress himself.

You pushed from the bed, unabashed with your bare skin, sultry steps towards him to assist him with donning his armor plates to his lithe figure beneath his gambeson. When you finished, you could see his hesitation perched on his tongue and cannot help but toy further with the knight. 

“Good ser,” you tone low to match your steps, and your weight shifted to accentuate your every curve, “can I trust you to always escort me to my quarters when needed?” 

His jaw steeled beneath the reds of his beard at your implication, his tick returning as the shackles tightened again. It was a pregnant pause before his eyes met with yours, and you half-expected to see the beautiful blues, but were pleased to see his darkened gaze.

“Whatever you wish of me,” and his low timbre thrilled you. “Princess.”

arcielee's masterlist

#ser erryk x you #ser erryk x reader #ser erryk cargyll #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd smutty smut

[redrose10]

Here is alternate angst ending number 1. This is how Cinnamon & Vanilla was initially planned to end before I went in a different happier direction. For this to make sense basically forget that chapter 17 and the proposal happened and chapter 16 ended with Suri getting arrested and Mia coming back into the picture (I hope that makes sense). I will post the other angst, but less angsty version next.

WARNINGS: Very small hint of smut, cheating, character death, funeral, allusions to suicide, a suicide note, swearing. Please proceed with caution if any of these things are hard for you. There will be a second alternate ending posted next that is less harsh if you’d rather read that.

Word Count: 2,257

You watched your father-in-law slam his fists down on the large oak table. “I will not stand for this Yoongi.”, he shouted. Across the table your husband smirked, his mistress Mia, sat next to him with a sly smile.

“Father, there’s nothing you can do or say to change my mind. I am divorcing Y/N and will marry Mia. I’m done being used as a pawn for your corporate gains.”

After Mia and Yoongi were reintroduced they became inseparable. Or it was more like Yoongi was infatuated with his former love thinking he could finally have the life he always dreamed with her, but all she wanted was his money and famous last name. You and everyone else could see it except for him.

His father scoffed, “You think this woman loves you? Yoongi, she left you once before. What makes you think she won’t do it again? I thought you were smarter than this. Y/N cares for you, more than she should in my opinion. She’s done more for you than most and will be a good companion.”

You looked over and made eye contact with your husband. His eyes softened, but yours turned cold. In your mind your relationship was irreparable. The first few weeks after meeting Mia he tried to pretend like nothing was going on, but you saw the signs. The purple marks on his skin that he tried to hide. The faint scent of a floral perfume that would surround him when he got home in the middle of the night. It all came forward when one day you stopped by his office to drop off some lunch. When you knocked on the door you heard a loud thud and some shuffling and when you pushed open the same door you found him in his chair slightly out of breath with his hair ruffled like someone’s hands had been running through it. When he stood up to thank you for the lunch the zipper of his dress pants was noticeably still pulled down. You knew in that moment that you were done and you were no longer going to try to even pretend to save the marriage.

Jin happily helped you build a case against his former friend rounding up all the proof of the infidelity on Yoongi’s side so that hopefully you could get your in laws to agree to a divorce. You were surprised when it seemed that Yoongi had beat you to it and that’s how you ended up here.

Yoongi cleared his throat bringing you back to the present. “Y/n and I are divorcing. I broke my part of the contract therefore she can be the one to file. It’s not up for discussion.”, he spoke.

Mr. Min turned red with anger as he watched Yoongi walk towards the door hand intertwined with Mia’s.

“Yoongi, if you walk out of here with that woman you are no longer considered a son to me. You will step down as CEO and you will loose all access to any of the family money. You will loose the houses and cars. Everything! And don’t you dare come running back when that gold digger leaves you again.”, Mr.Min was out of breath and red in the face. You were getting worried for his health nervous he would have a heart attack. Yoongi continued to walk out the door pulling Mia behind him. She now appeared to be hesitant after Mr. Mins threats. You’re soon to be ex father-in-law gave you a small nod before walking out the same door. Jin who had been silently sitting next to you the whole time squeezed your hand, “Don’t worry Y/N, you’ll have the best divorce lawyer in Seoul.” You smiled trying to hide your pain.

Jin wasn’t kidding either. The divorce was quick and simple. Yoongi seemed to want to be done with everything as fast as possible. You got a very large sum of money plus one of the penthouses and a couple cars in exchange for keeping quiet and not going to the media about anything that happened between you and the Mins. You ended up selling the cars and the penthouse, instead buying a cute apartment just outside the city that was much more your taste. You kept some of the money as a savings and then donated a chunk to various charities that were close to you.

At the paper signing Yoongi barely acknowledged you which you appreciated. As you watched him sign the papers signaling the end of your marriage you felt a strange heaviness in your heart, but you were determined to not let the darkness of Min Yoongi follow you. You did your best to move on and leave that part of your life behind you. Getting a job and making some new friends. You did your best to create your new normal.

It was late one evening when you sat at your kitchen table replaying the last few years in your head. Startling in surprise when you felt a hand on your shoulder you turned to find your fiancé Hoseok or Hobi as you started calling him when you two met up in Korea after he’d quit his waitressing job at the beach hotel and moved back home. “Sorry love, I didn’t mean to scare you.”, he said placing a kiss on the top of your head before taking a seat at the table next to you.

“It’s okay. I was just thinking.”, you chuckled.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Shaking your head you poured him a glass of water.

“It was a really beautiful service.”, he spoke.

“Yeah it sure was.”, you said trying to suppress the tears.

“It was surprising that his parents showed up. I know not many people thought they would. Seeing Jimin and Jungkook there was nice too.”, he said. All you could do was nod in agreement.

“Well I’m gonna head off to bed. Don’t stay up too late and come get me if you need anything”, he sighed before leaning in for another kiss which you happily reciprocated.

After he walked into the bedroom and you were sure you heard the door close you pulled out the envelope Jin had given to you after the funeral. Your name written beautifully on the front.

Not long after your divorce was finalized Mr.Min stayed true to his word. Yoongi was forcefully removed as CEO of Min Enterprises. He was cut off from all the family money and was only left with what he had already earned. It didn’t take long for Mia to go through what he had left. When she realized that she wasn’t going to be living the lavished life of a billionaires wife she was fast to leave him. Quickly marrying the son of some Australian cattle farming tycoon. Jimin had quit working for Yoongi not long after he started dating Mia exclusively. He swore it had nothing to do with you and that he just got a higher paying less stressful offer elsewhere, but you knew better. Jin quit working with Yoongi and Min Enterprises instead opting to open his own law firm. Even Jungkook had quit and took a job in Los Angeles leaving Yoongi all alone. Yoongi’s parents refused to let him back into the company, but they did start funneling him a little money here and there to keep him afloat as that was better than your famous son being homeless.

You did worry about him no matter how hard you tried not to, even contemplating reaching out to him a few times, but you were worried it would only make it worse for the both of you. It seemed like every morning you were waking up to a new story or video of him belligerently drunk, getting in fights, leaving clubs with multiple women. He was completely off the rails again and didn’t seem to have a care in the world anymore. The last video you saw of him he looked like a zombie. You knew he must’ve been living off of whiskey and cigarettes at that point and it was only a matter of time until something bad happened.

Then one morning last week you got the call. Jin was on the other end and you could just tell by the way his breathing was uneven that he didn’t have good news. He didn’t have much info, but promised to call you with the details of the funeral as soon as he knew them.

When you arrived at the church you were greeted by Jimin and Jungkook the two wrapping you in a hug. Mr. And Mrs. Min said hello and congratulated you on your new engagement. When you finally made your way over to Jin he smiled, “They found this on his bed. Has your name on it.” Gently you took the letter placing it in your bag for now as the service was about to begin.

Now back at your apartment you sat at the kitchen table staring down at the envelope. With shaking hands you gently unfolded the paper. Some parts were a little smudged thanks to the ink getting wet and drying again. A detail that definitely didn’t go unnoticed by you. A small sob escaping you as you thought about what Yoongi must have been thinking in that moment. You took a deep breath and began to read,

“Dear Y/N,

If you are reading this then it means that everything went according to my plan. I guess I just have some things I want to get off my chest and admittedly I’m too much of a coward to say them to your face or even to call you. Plus, I know if I hear your voice I’ll change my mind about this. First I want to apologize. I know I’ve done that a lot and never seemed to really mean it, but I am sorry for everything. You never deserved any of this from the start. You deserved to fall in love with someone that was capable of truly loving you back, but that couldn’t be me when I didn’t even love myself. Someone who would be there to take care of you emotionally and physically. I regret that I could never grow up and be that person. I heard that you are engaged. Congratulations. I hope that he takes care of you well and makes you as happy as you deserve.

I have reached a point in my life that is just so low I don’t think I could ever recover. What even is the point of life anyways? I guess I’ll never know. I don’t know what went wrong either. I was once a happy kid who loved music and basketball, who wanted to travel the world, who wanted to get married and have a bunch of kids. Now I’m sitting in my bathtub alone with a bottle of cheap whiskey writing a letter to a woman I never loved, but can’t get out of my head. They say you never know what you have until it’s gone. I always thought that was a bullshit excuse that people used to make themselves feel better about their choices, but I now know that it’s true. You were the best thing that could ever happen to me and I threw it all away. You were loving and kind, generous and thoughtful, loyal. You were so much when all I did was try to hurt you. I am truly sorry. I hope that your life brings you everything you’ve ever wanted and one day you’ll completely forget the name Min Yoongi. But until then I hope that maybe hearing or speaking my name won’t bring such disgust to your tongue. Maybe in the next life we can try this again. Take care of yourself Y/N.

Best regards,

Yoongi”

By the time you were done the letter was soaked with your own tears. You folded up the paper and put it back in the envelope before gently placing it in the kitchen drawer. Your heart broke for the man that was hurting so badly. You felt a slight pain of guilt that maybe there was something else you could’ve done, but in the end no one was able to help him. You were thankful for Hobi who came into your life like a big ray of sunshine bringing light and warmth. You smiled as you placed his coat in the closet, his cologne still strong with the smell of jasmine quickly surrounding you and reminding you of the new chapter of your life.

Turning to walk to the bedroom a piece of paper laying on the kitchen floor caught your eye. It wasn’t there earlier so you figured it must’ve fallen out of the envelope from Yoongi when you opened it. Shuffling over to pick it up you started laughing as you read it over,

“Thanks to your generous donation to Perry’s Sheep Farm we are able to continue rescuing sheep in need across the world. As a special thanks please see the attached photo of one of our sheep that your generous gift has helped.”

“He just couldn’t let this fucking sheep thing go.”, you chuckled. You shook your head letting out another laugh as you pulled out the Polaroid. As hard as you tried you couldn’t prevent the tears from flowing once again as you fell to the floor clutching the photos to your chest. Smiling back at you in the photo was a big fluffy sheep with a bright pink bow on the side of her head. The lettering across the bottom said, ‘Petunia’, written in Yoongi’s handwriting. Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you swore you could detect the faintest hint of cinnamon and vanilla in the air.

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #bts fanfic #yoongi angst #cinnamon&vanilla #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fic #bts x reader #yoongi au #bts yoongi #bts fic #kim seokjin #jimin #jungkook #bts hobi

[sweetainwen]

ᴍᴀʟᴇᴅɪᴄᴛᴜᴍ [JJK]

Summary: trying to break free from a witch's curse was daunting, especially if it was a charade that would last until he had her to himself, but nothing was left unpunished by the rampage of a true walking curse, for every sin had to be atoned for.

Pairings: yandere duke witch hunter!Jungkook x fem!witch hunter?OC (you can think of her as Y/N)

Genre: made up world!au, supernatural!au, witch!au, yandere!au, smut

Disclaimer: this story is fictional, so each character is not as described in it.

Warnings: slight age gap (Jungkook 22 OC 26), obsession, manipulation, violence, blood, supernatural themes, burning at stake, major character death, murders, unprotected sex, fingering

Word count: 7.2+k

A/N: happy Halloween!

Tragic was life, bringing with it unexpected events that no one could prevent. The injustice of this filled hearts with sadness and helplessness, eyes that wanted to express them with tears but it was now useless.

Like her now gazing at the coffin of her third and brave husband being buried, passed away shortly after their wedding. People around her paying their condolences for the ill-fated event.

But she knew, knew how fear and judgments were hidden beneath them. She knew of the derogatory epithet that had been hung on her.

Their voices were loud, their looks piercing, their gestures blatant.

“She doesn't even shed a tear.”

“I wonder how it happened this time.”

“What a curse.”

The abyss dragged her down, shrouding her with its darkness.

However, his gentle hands brought her back up, firm and decisive, cutting that black thread that twisted overbearingly and undisturbed around her body.

As soon as she looked up, Jungkook’s tender smile calmed the turmoil that was taking over her, a hand squeezing her shoulder in comfort while the other was outstretched towards her.

“Let's get going, Minji. The air is getting very cold.”

She returned his smile with a more faint one and a slight nod of her head, resting her hand on his and letting him guide her out of the graveyard and to their carriage.

Her desire was only to marry and live happily, an accomplishment of almost every woman. She coveted that love as special as it was magical, for she had been deprived of it from an early age.

However, something prevented her from doing so.

The death of her first husband had been considered an accident, but that of her second husband a suspicion, and that of her third a confirmation.

Harbinger of misfortune, one glance was enough to cloud the poor unfortunate man's rationality, who acted rashly with a marriage proposal.

Whereupon those who fell victim to her beauty were cursed and perished.

The cursed woman.

That was what she was called by the townspeople, for there was a witch's hand in all these nefarious events.

A certainty due to the trails of magic found at the murder scene of her third husband.

“I am truly dismayed that you have been involved in this reprisal, my dear. We should have foreseen such an action.” The middle-aged man's sad voice reached her ears after they entered their mansion, being helped by the maids in freeing themselves of their coats.

“Do not blame yourself for this, my dear cousin,” she reassured, her palm brushing against his arm. “We are aware of who is really guilty. And I am confident that we will be able to find them, given our hunting abilities. The witches will not be able to escape for long.” Her hand rested gently on the cheek of the younger man beside her, whose doe-like eyes looked at her with concern and affection, before a sigh escaped her lips, “Now if you will excuse me, I shall retire to my chamber. I... need to be alone for a moment.”

The two men watched her as she made her way to the stairs, lifting her dress with her hands to prevent it from getting in the way of her steps, until she disappeared from their sight and they heard the door open and close.

The oldest cursed in a low voice, gritting his teeth, “Damn witches! If I could I would kill them all in one shot!” His gaze fell upon Jungkook, whose lips were pressed together. “Do everything to track down who it is.”

“Yes, father.”

“Just focus on hunting down these bastards, I will take care of the other family business.”

Jungkook nodded and before he began his task, his eyes drifted to the spot where his cousin had disappeared, and a sigh came out, his heart tightened with anguish at the memory of her worn-out appearance.

The fierce fury against her was personal, dictated by revenge in wanting to afflict of the same pain of losing comrades to the witch hunters.

What better way than to have a member of the Jeon, main duchy of the witch hunters' organization, as a victim?

And they had achieved their goal, with Minji pressing her lips together and tightening her grip on the reins of her horse at yet another shake of the head by one of their best hunters, Jin.

She could well hear the taunting giggles of those beings echoing through the forest even though they were concealed from their eyes, driving her frustration and anger almost to the edge. She was getting weary of the whole situation. And if she had to resort to different help, she would, even though she was reluctant.

She exhaled, "We will continue tomorrow. Going any further now will not yield any success. We will try another method."

Jungkook had not looked away from her for a second until he saw her pull the reins to turn around, followed by their second-best hunter, Namjoon.

"I knew they would curse us someday, but not that they would only come after one person,” Taehyung’s voice, another hunter, and the sound of the hooves of his horse on the ground to his left caught his attention, “They seem quite interested in your father’s cousin.”

Jungkook's gaze ended on her again, a knowing smile on his face, “They should never play with fire. It will burn them to death.”

Despite saying those words, hoping they would be heard by the tormentors, they were not getting their way, for the following days were a continuous search for them without success. And the one who suffered the most was Minji.

The frustration that was being shown on her face was not at all concealed, even if she tried to not let it get under her skin.

Her eyes that were slowly losing their vitality worried the most, for it was they that most captured people, that captured him as the first time he had seen her.

“This is Jeon Minji, a distant cousin of mine. She will stay here with us from now on. This is my son, Jeon Jungkook.”

He saw her get up from the sofa in their drawing room, walking in front of him.

The meeting was unexpected, since he had never heard of this cousin.

She curtsied, a smile tugging at her lips before stretching out her gloved hand, "Pleased to meet you, Lord Jungkook."

His hand moved on its own, taking hers and lightly placing his lips on her knuckles, “The pleasure is mine, Lady Minji.”

And the never-breaking eye contact allowed him to notice a gleam in her eyes that dazzled him.

That feeling had grown over time and did not appear to fade. It was as if he was enchanted and subjugated.

Like now as she watched the moon and stars, standing in the garden, the moonbeams over her figure making her ethereal and almost mystical.

“Can’t seem to sleep?” he asked, pulling a blanket over her shoulders to protect her from the chilling night.

She sighed, “Who would?”

“Would you like me to sing you a lullaby and stroke your hair?” he joked, a half-smile making its appearance.

She pressed her lips together to keep herself from laughing, the back of her hand lightly smacking his clothed chest.

He feigned hurt, pouty lips and knitted eyebrows, clutching the injured part.

“You big jester! It’s too late for that. I am no longer a child, but you have my gratitude.”

“Honored to be your jester, my lady.” A slight bow followed the last words, taking a small chuckle out of her.

A pleasant silence greeted them.

After the death of her first husband, their meetings had increased to be as close to her as possible and offer her all his support.

The more time they spent together, the more curiosity, affection, and attraction worked its way into him.

Her trust in him had improved so much that she was even able to tell him how her family had been exterminated by witches in an ambush.

She was the only survivor of part of his father's family.

There were many members of the Jeon family, but she had never been heard of except before that misfortune happened, in which news of an illegitimate daughter spread fast and unstoppable.

She was still a Jeon, it was a duty and right to help her.

“Worry moves your actions,” she spoke. Now face to face, Minji moved as many steps as it took to have their chests brushing against each other, “but you need not worry.” A tender smile graced her lips, her fingers caressing his cheek. “Despair will never cling to me, because I have you.”

A flutter came at those words and a pleasant warmth embraced his heart.

And he wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her body heat through their fabrics of clothing.

"After losing everything, you and your father are really the only people I have left. My family."

He sighed, a glint of sadness in his gaze, “However, we are not enough for you.” Her features softened more, her heart throbbing restlessly at his reaction. “I am aware of the difference, yet you acted hastily. I know you want to get married, how you would like to create that family you could not have, but you did not even know them.”

“I would have as time went on.”

“It doesn't imply loving them.”

She did not argue back, mindful of the truthfulness of his words. Not all marriages had that happy ending. There were many different endings that could be reached. She knew that, but if she was held back by all these ifs and buts, she would only live in fear and paranoia.

The loss of that comforting warmth on one of her hips awakened her from her thoughts, finding it now on her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the skin of it.

“For that reason, you should look closer to you. And your eyes will see that the right person is precisely the one on whom expectations were nil.“

Silence fell. His eyes wanting to convey without more words what he wanted to say, and when they reached their destination, Minji almost lost her breath.

“I love you.”

She was completely taken aback, so much so that she could not find the right words.

Heart racing, thoughts jumbling together. She was happy.

She beamed and covered her mouth with one hand to hide it from the eyes of the young man, who, however, noticed it immediately.

And she decided to answer his silent question.

“This is outrageously embarrassing,” a little ashamed chuckle left her lips, “I… had a desire to get married so that I could forget what I felt, since… I believed that you could never reciprocate my feelings.” She began to speak swiftly, “I am aware that throwing myself into the arms of those men without having any knowledge of them was wrong, but I was sure it was the best solution to avoid a possible unintended consequence of my unrequited lo-“

Voraciously her lips were assailed by his, moving them gently and slowly, savoring and devouring with ardor that first impulsive kiss of theirs.

His fingers brushing her cheeks, her hands on his hips for support.

Pulling a short distance away, their eyes met, chests going up and down.

“You were totally in the wrong. Because I love you and long for you as if you are my breath. Marry me.”

“Your father-“

“Oh, my father would gladly approve of our union,” he chuckled. “His confession about me being the best husband for a woman like you was quite telling.”

She blinked in surprise, “Did he really say such a thing?”

“He says many things that are to your advantage, my dear.” He pecked her lips, making her smile. “We will find that witch and get married. I promise you.”

She nodded, her arms circling his waist and her head resting on his chest. He pulled her close to him, his chin on her head and a victorious, sly smile adorning his face.

Happiness was overtaking him.

Who would have expected such a turn of events? It was an opportunity he would not waste.

However, if he had realized it earlier, she would have been his before those bastards interfered with marriage proposals.

Resorting to this charade had been worth it anyway; he had been wanting to get rid of the worthless scums who had immediately ogled her shortly after her arrival for too long.

Witches were the enemy of humans. Evil beings who deceived you with their human guise. For that reason, the Jeon household became witch hunters for the salvation of humanity.

Making use of the grimoires taken from those beings, they succeeded in creating tools that allowed protection against them, to trap and execute them.

Even if they still existed after centuries, the Jeons would still fight. And Jungkook, now, was the successor to that duchy.

So, no one would notice that a human was to blame for those incidents if you tainted the crime scene with evidence against witches. Least of all Jeon Jungkook himself, the witch hunter.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” the young man on the ground shrieked in a strangled voice, the rope net that had opened from the ball attached to an arrow shot from a crossbow blocking his movements with electric shocks.

They had invaded his house, turning it upside down in search of something he didn’t know about.

His own friends were treaking him like a criminal, like a witch.

“They are here!” a hunter notified from one of the rooms.

Quick steps on the wooden floor before his gaze ended on Jungkook and Minji, the latter holding a grimoire and a voodoo doll, features distorted by betrayal and disappointment like the rest of those present there.

With glassy eyes and his heart pounding, he began to shake his head, “They're not mine! I could never!” Minji’s lips were quivering. “Lady Minji, believe me! I’m not a witch! Please!”

“Take him.”

It was the last thing he heard from Jungkook before he was dragged ruthlessly out of his own house toward his last breath, screaming and trying to wriggle out even against that net-like trap that thwarted him with pain.

His pleas would go unheard and the answer to his question about the reason for this dogged and unfair framing against him never given.

Loss of sanity and restraint was there when it concerned witches, and the Jeon's young successor was aware of this.

Finding someone as a scapegoat was not difficult either, finding someone else who had allowed himself to look at her more than he could as the culprit of the curse, fitting in manufactured evidence, had been easy.

If he had known his place, he would not have ended up at the stake, undergoing pain and pleading he was not a witch.

The shock the townsfolk had experienced in knowing that Jung Hoseok, such a kind and shy young man who had just moved from afar, had actually turned out to be one of those monsters had been severe.

For Minji, who had welcomed him gently to put him at ease and had even grown attached to him like a sister, it had been another loss.

She still recalled how he lowered his timid gaze and played with his fingers while talking, the selflessness he showed if someone needed some help, and the small smile of when he was asked or considered in conversations and jokes.

And as she and the others watched the flames that had now devoured him and left only a burned body, she wondered who she might or might not trust around her.

“My love…” his soft, gentle voice and his fingers intertwining with hers as a sign of comfort led her to look at Jungkook, “This view destroys our hearts, but you’re free now.” She flashed him a half-smile and was immediately engulfed in a hug. “I’m here. All is well. You’re safe.”

She held him close, the feeling of safety and warmth embracing her once again, “You are right. I have you. My soon-to-be husband.”

Ah, how he loved those words.

He was at the mercy of this victorious enthusiasm.

It seemed to him to be an illusion well devised by a witch for how much he still could not believe that he would finally make her his for eternity.

The fear of losing her had been swept away by the knowledge that he had her in his grasp.

She could not escape; he would not allow it.

She would have no reason to, either, for nothing connected the situation they had gone through with him.

Their lives would run smoothly. They would have children, see them grow up, and would tell them and their grandchildren about how magnificent their wedding day had been.

That white dress had made her look like a goddess come down to earth to tempt a man and enchant him for life with sweet words, gentle caresses and breathtaking smiles.

He had not resisted and with vows of love and a kiss, they had sealed that long-awaited union.

Her gasp of surprise and giggle when he had taken her in his arms had stirred his heartstrings into more chords of love and devotion.

And it shone through his eyes that did not leave Minji's for a moment as he removed the veil from her hair and then caressed one of her cheek.

“I still cannot believe that you are here, as my wife.”

She leaned her face into his hand, on which she placed her own, “Believe it. For I will be here with you until death do us part.”

Without another word, Jungkook pressed his mouth to hers harshly.

Her hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer towards her. His hands quickly made their way around her waist and she could feel her breasts brush tightly against his chest as he continued to deepen their kiss and led her back towards the bed.

Both crawling up onto the middle, her back resting now on the mattress, Jungkook’s mouth continued to work against her own, his kisses becoming desperate, her fingers running through his dark locks. He groaned against her, lips finding the skin of her neck and trailing kisses up and down slowly.

She arched her back and spread her legs, his hips now comfortably against hers and the feeling of his hard bulge in his pants against her obvious. His hands lifted the skirts of her dress, fingers trailing on her skin light enough to send sparks and goosebumps down her body.

But a sense of stiffening was detected by Jungkook, leading him to break their lips apart to give her a questioning gaze.

“What is it, my dearest?”

A tint of red colored her cheeks in embarrassment and shyness, head lowering and hands tightening around the fabric of his clothing.

She was so adorable that he wanted to tease her.

“I… It won’t hurt again, will it? My former husbands had not been very… gentle. I’m afraid I…”

Silence fell in the room, but the rage lurking in Jungkook did not stop growing after those words.

They had been fortunate enough to have such a delicate and special flower in their arms and had instead decided to fill with pain and sadness that important bond between spouses.

Ungrateful pieces of shit.

A soft smile tugged at his lips, “Look at me.” She did. “I would never hurt you, in any way. I love you too much to commit such obnoxious actions.”

A slight nod of approval from her was all he needed to kiss her again, his hands shoving her dress up to expose her bare skin before trailing his fingers over her thighs and rubbing against her sensitive spot over her undergarments. She let out a soft gasp, goosebumps all over her body.

Taking advantage of this, his tongue swept in between her lips, playing with her own.

She gripped his hair as he tore her undergarments off, helping him kicking them off with her legs and hands. Pulling away again, her dress was next, pulling it up and leaving her completely bare under his gaze.

Lust filling their eyes and patience vanishing, he undressed himself quickly of his wedding suit, leaving his hardened dick on display.

Minji couldn’t help but look at him, almost losing her breath at how handsome he was. That hungry, dazed gaze made Jungkook completely insane.

She was looking at him.

Loving him.

A surprise gasp left her lips as one of his fingers slipped inside of her slowly, body hot and labored breaths.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered breathlessly, drinking in her beautiful face contorted with pleasure.

Leaning over, he bit down on her shoulder as he worked his finger inside of her, a moaning escaping from her.

“I’m gonna make you feel good,” he said in a dark voice, another finger starting to slowly push inside of her. “Make you feel how much I yearn to make you mine.”

She shut her eyes, his hot breath fanning over her neck, overwhelmed by his movements and hot body against hers.

His thumb pressed against her clit, sending more shivers down her spine as her hands gripped his hair and her back arched, hips rocking up toward his fingers.

“Jungkook-“

A breathless chuckle was his reply, “You’re so wet. You’re clenching so much.”

“Please- I’m-“

“Want to come right now? Or you want my cock to fuck your pussy? Mmh? Would you like that? Look at you, so ready to get fucked up.”

His vulgar words made her whimper more, his fingers bringing her close to her own release.

“Please, fuck me up, fuck me-“

The loss of his fingers made her grunt in disappointment, but a gasp of surprise left her lips as soon as she felt his cock pushing into her slowly.

He grabbed her wrists and brought them over the sheets, near her face, intertwining her fingers with his shortly after and kept rolling his hips back and forth as he was now buried deep inside her.

She looked at him, eyes half-lidded and everything around her disappeared.

She could only hear his fast breaths and see drops of sweat falling undisturbed along his temples, neck, chest.

His arms muscles flexing as they supported the weight of his body, eyes watching her with a glint of pure and primitive ecstasy

He was shuddering above her, showing how much she was making him feel fucking good. Bare. Hers.

A shift in his movements caused something inside of her to sent shots of electricity through her limbs and whimper in pleasure.

“You’re so good. Taking me so well.”

Pulling back from her body and then slamming into her roughly, it almost made her cry out in bliss.

Her legs hugged his hips, pulling him deeper inside her.

Clenching around his cock, she flashed him a lustful smile and his quiet grunts turned into moans as his thrusts became more erratic.

Dizziness invaded their senses and spasms ran through their bodies as Jungkook filled her with his seed, reaching their release.

Trying to catch their breath, he collapsed onto her, his face in the crook of her neck and her hand now stroking his hair.

He held her close, rubbing his nose against her neck, which made her giggle as she reciprocated the squeeze with a happy sigh.

The night was quiet while they enjoyed their proximity, but a sudden muffled noise caught Minji’s attention, her gaze ending on a black cat on the window sill glaring at her.

She reciprocated with a curious glance, but did not give it much thought.

The next few days she began to see him more often; he followed her wherever she went as if he were her shadow. So she decided to take care of him, eventually waiting for his arrival so she could cuddle and play with him. He was very affectionate for a stray cat.

Her heart melted like snow when the cat snuggled up on her thighs for a nap or just to be close to her, as he was doing now. The trust he placed in her filled her with joy. Getting it from an animal was not always easy, hence she was proud of it.

If she spoke to him, he understood. If her mood changed, he sensed it. A little moral support.

Her fingers passed gently through his fur, his purr widening her smile.

“You love that cat very much.”

Her cousin's voice rendered to a whisper brought her back to reality, the cup of tea between the fingers of her other hand now cold, sitting on a chair next to his bed.

Her gaze landed on him, seeing his softened features as he sipped his tea with his back resting on the back of his bed, the pillow making the resting comfortable.

“I do.”

She placed the cup on the undercup placed on the small nightstand to her right before reaching out her hands toward the cup and undercup he was holding out to her, the black cat coming down from her legs to wonder around the room.

"And Jungkook is still displeased."

She let a small chuckle escape her lips, "He is not some witch's familiar, the sphere would have reacted otherwise. Besides, Jungkook is displeased by anything that takes my attention away from him," she reminded him amusedly, setting the undercup and cup down next to hers.

“Oh! That young man is beyond smitten with you that he even wants to get rid of a cat! I wouldn't be surprised if one day he made all the animals around disappear.”

The man laughed wholeheartedly, enjoying the way his son was behaving out of his usual character. But coughing fits interrupped him, his hand over his mouth now smeared with his own blood.

Minji widened her eyes, concern again evident on her face as she knelt at the edge of the bed and handed him a handkerchief, wiping his hand with another.

He looked at her, a soft smile adorning his face, “You are such a kind soul, my lovely little cousin. I don’t see myself worried about leaving my son in bad hands. I’m glad you accepted to be his wife. It’s the best gift I could ever receive.”

She stood still, pain and sadness piercing her heart yet a sense of pride and gratitude followed those emotions at his words.

“Thank you, father-in-law.”

He caressed her cheek, tenderness and affection guiding his gesture, “Take good care of each other, all right?”

“Of course. Always.” She gave him a weak smile, “It’s better if I let you rest, I think I have stayed too long. I will visit again tomorrow.”

“I will wait for you, my precious daughter.”

And off she went, taking with her the tea cart carefully prepared by herself after placing the cups on it, the cat following suit.

After closing the door, she let out a sigh.

A few weeks after their wedding, as Minji and he were having their usual tea hour together, he had brought a hand to his chest before passing out.

Panic had risen, and when they had called the doctor, it was discovered that an illness had struck him.

It was incurable and nameless.

The despair and destruction she had seen pass across Jungkook's face had broken her heart more than the news had already done.

His complexion was pale, dark circles under his eyes, strength weakening, and some of his nights were sleepless.

Her cousin was dying and nothing could be done. Their helplessness was unbearable, but other than spending time with him, they could do nothing else.

He had taken care of her when she was left alone, welcoming her and engaging her immediately as if she was not a mistake of her father's with another woman. He had showered her with love, becoming a father and a brother.

She almost lost her mind.

But the appearance of that cat – which she had named Sese – had been a distraction. Jungkook was busy with family business in his father's stead, so he spent a lot of time in his office room. Caring for an animal helped keep her mind off that unforeseen tragedy, ignoring Jungkook’s disapproval.

The black cat was the witches' familiar. Deception and malice were part of them. Having one in the house brought bad luck, he had even come to believe that he was to blame for his father's illness.

This, however, was not possible, since if he had really been the bearer of misfortune, the protective sphere of the house placed on a pedestal in the basement would have counteracted his strength and prevented him from entering.

He was a normal black cat that she had chosen to take in.

Footsteps could be heard and she looked up, finding Jungkook coming her way with slow, tired movements.

“Is he sleeping?”

She nodded, “Likely. I left to let him rest.” He hummed and Minji approached him, her voice soft as she asked, “Do you want me to make you some tea?”

“What you have already prepared will be fine for me.”

“But it's cold.”

“It's still tea.”

“Alright, alright,” she exhaled before giving him a peck on his lips. “Go and relax a bit too. You need it. I'll join you right away.”

He gave her a weak smile, “Thanks, my dearest.”

Tired voice, slumped shoulders, dull eyes. His pain was palpable even now with his back to her.

She could understand him; he had lost his mother when he was young to a fall from a horse while hunting witches, and now he was losing his father to a disease.

She clenched her hands into fists.

It was not fair. They had begun happy days, their laughter filling the house, their fellowship with each other and even with the household employees.

She thought it would all end with the killing of the witch, but their family still seemed to be in the arms of a curse.

The organization was already mourning one of their important members, but when he actually died a few days later, no one could still believe that they were looking at his grave in the cemetery.

The rain and fog made the event more somber and unbearable.

Condolences and words of prayes were adressed to them with sympathy and compassion.

And the title of Duke had passed to Jungkook.

His obligations had increased and with them the pressure he perceived on himself because of the expectations other members now placed on him and the family business.

The incessant pounding in his head caused distraction and slowed his work.

And today was one of those days.

His vision was blurring and the hand that was holding the pen was trembling, the writings on those papers placed on the desk only meaningless ink.

He let go of the pen and with a sigh leaned back on the chair, rubbing his face with his hands to try to shake off the weariness.

A clink of something contrasting a surface awakened him, seeing his usual cup of tea on his desk and Minji at one side of it.

"Here's your tea, dear."

He reached out a hand toward her and Minji took it between hers, drawing her closer before wrapping his arms around her waist. His head resting on her stomach.

Her fingers began to run through his hair, slightly relieving his headache at which he breathed a sigh of relief.

He rubbed his face against her stomach.

She smiled, softened by his behavior considered childish, and let him be.

“Are you done with your work for the day?”

“Not quite. Unfortunately, I have a headache.”

She blinked, “Again?”

“Again.”

“Then drink, don’t waste time. You said it helps you get over it.”

“I will. Just let me stay like this a little longer.”

She snorted a chuckle and his heart skipped a beat.

He was so lucky to have her.

She supported him with simple gestures, understood when he needed something and assisted when he couldn't continue certain things himself.

She also declined every letter of invitation to tea parties to have a simple chatter with friends because she wanted to stay with him.

Everything about her was soothing. Her touch, her breath, her closeness. She was his main pivot. His life. His.

He couldn’t stop admiring and loving her.

And he was often caught staring at her like a fool and hearing her laugh every time she told him to stop was a cure-all.

For her he was also trying to like Sese, even though he was taking up too much of Minji's time. And she gently scolded him not to be jealous of a cat.

He probably was.

Normality was setting in again in their lives and he was over the moon.

However, something began to crack once again.

Minji was on the alert, often distant and silent. Whether at home or during meetings between members of the organization, or simply walking through the streets of the central city. Especially with him.

Anxiety and terror had mixed, shaping thoughts and theories that were taking root in his mind.

She was terrifying him. He was afraid she had grown tired of him. That she had a lover.

Just thinking about it sent him into a frenzy.

He had started having nightmares and the sleepless nights did not allow him to think properly.

And the discovery of her nocturnal outings fed his fear that was getting out of control even more.

She was not betraying him. She was not leaving him. She couldn't. She had no chance.

He had tried, he had tried to communicate, to understand the problem, but he had received no answer.

Every excuse was used to avoid confrontation.

This time he would wait for her to face the situation once and for all.

He saw her as she crossed the threshold of their bedroom with light steps so as not to make noise.

Her gaze had immediately focused on him, sitting in the chair by the window set at the left side of the bed. There was no surprise and fear of being caught red-handed; no, it was as if she knew someone was waiting for her.

Doubts crept more into him.

"Where were you?"

"I was thirsty, I drank some water."

"You were thirsty, you drank water,” he was mocking her as he got up, walking slowly up to her. “In your walking dress.”

He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face, the silent expressiveness in his eyes exposing his anxious thoughts.  hands shaking and slightly labored breathing.

He was so close that she could feel his ragged breath on her face. The quiet expressiveness in his eyes baring his anxious thoughts.

She tilted her head to the side, weirded out and irritated by his behavior.

“I put on the first dress I could find. Finding a suitable one would have taken time.”

“Can… Can we talk about it?”

“About what?”

“About how you’re lying to me.”

The snort she gave him left him stunned, the rope of sanity permanently snapping.

His heart began to pound faster, his trembling hands cupping her face. Despair clouded his mind at her faint mocking smile and no definitive answer.

He couldn't stand it. She was kind. She was loving. She loved him.

“What’s happening? Why are you reacting like this? Is someone bothering you? Threatening you? You don’t have to hide things from me. I’m your husband! I can help you!”

He was a mess.

He spoke fast, his voice quivering, and he felt like he was losing his mind.

It was exploding. He felt suffocated.

He took his head in his hands, his knees ending up on the ground, another headache suddenly occurring. This time heavier and more persistent.

His stomach burned, a lump forming in his throat until he vomited blood before falling sideways, a few splatters reaching Minji's dress.

She had moved a few steps closer, looking down on him.

Bent over, panting, shivering, frail.

“The tea has finally had its effect. Did you enjoy the nightmares? Probably of me leaving you alone. The twist is… you were always alone. I’m not your father’s cousin. I’m not part of your family. I am not a Jeon. Spreading rumors of an illegitimate child was a child’s play.”

Jungkook was gasping for air, tremendously shocked by what was happening. He looked at her, pupils shaking, face pale, jolts sweeping through his body.

"Too many questions you're asking me!” she chuckled, her arms behind her back with the fingers of one hand intertwined with the other. “My amazement at observing human greed will never end. Tearing books from witches and using them against them to feel powerful, killing them with no mercy whatsoever. Creating massacres and making children orphans. You have no respect for what you have. Truly deplorable.”

Anger was audible in her voice, her face disfigured with disgust.

“In two of those many massacres were the three most important people in my life. I am sure that the memory of a big wolf protecting a woman is not easily forgotten, as the sight of such a wolf is not every day occurrence. They were my parents. And I was watching with my husband and brother, hidden from your eyes under my parents' request. Shortly afterwards I lost my husband as well." A sinister glint appeared in her eyes, bending her upper body slightly toward him, "The pain I felt had been so immeasurable that I was burning with the desire to make you feel the same. You should have seen your father's face the day he died, when I revealed myself as a witch. My smile must have scared him a lot.” She smirked, “How do you feel?”

Betrayal was the only thing that was piercing his lungs and heart, immobilizing him from regular breathing and opening his mouth to respond.

Bitter tears began to stream down his cheeks.

“Nevertheless, I must admit that your obsession with me was a great benefit; you made access easier for me, and getting rid of those other lousy hunters didn't bother me at all.”

“Do you really have to tell him everything?”

The interjection of a dissatisfied male voice made her straighten up, but she didn’t take her eyes off Jungkook, whose attention was now on the young man who had stopped beside Minji with the black cat on his right shoulder.

“Where is Sese, brother?”

“On my shoulder.”

Jungkook saw the pet jump down and walk behind Minji.

He thought he would see him popping up from the other side, but what appeared before his eyes were boots. Looking up, he noticed pants, a shirt, and finally a face.

A face he had last seen burning at the stake.

“We should leave, I can't stay one more minute in this shitty place,” Hoseok grumbled, his arm resting on Minji’s shoulder. “I can still smell that damned burning smell and my skin being roasted.”

“You'll get over it.”

“You go to the stake next time, Yoongi.”

“What do we do now, Minji?” Yoongi completely ignored his  annoyed comment, addressing his sister.

Silence crept in.

They were watching Jungkook like a fucking prey. Like a trapped animal. And he was.

He couldn’t do much. He had been deceived.

“Burn everything down.”

As Minji uttered those words, his hand clutched her skirt in a desperate gesture, shaking his head.

He didn't care. He wanted his wife. His love. He didn't give a fuck about her being a witch or something else. He loved her. He fucking loved her!

“Don’t… Don’t leave me, please…”

“This bastard is desperate. Apparently, you left a deep mark,” Yoongi sneered, followed by a giggle from Hoseok.

Minji extended her hand in front of her brother, and he pulled out a hunter's knife taken from the house to give it to her.

“I told you destroying them from the inside would be more satisfying, brother. My role has more impact than yours. Even though women are witch hunters, they are still viewed differently than men. Taking advantage of this was essential. Look how they collapsed like a sandcastle. I hope you had as much fun as I did, Jungkook.”

The knife was held in mid-air above Jungkook, at heart level.

His fingers tightened on her skirt, pleading with his eyes not to, but she didn't listen. Instead, she released her grip on the knife.

And as if moved by an invisible force – her power – it cut through the air and pierced his chest, reaching his heart.

His eyes lost their vitality, his body stopped moving.

And the room fell silent again.

Some time later, the house began to catch on fire.

Yoongi hid and Hoseok took on the appearance of a cat again, while she warned the employees who lived in the house to get out.

It had been a wonderful sight in her eyes.

The flames that enthusiastically enveloped the Jeon house.

Bright, big, lightning up the night.

Like the witches who were burned at the stake.

It had all been so simple that it bored her.

When she discovered that her mixed blood could somehow nullify the effects of the witches' spells used by those humans, she realized that she could do something to destroy them.

And she was succeeding. After carefully studying the methods, observing the hunters, and strengthening herself, she had taken action.

Her brother was against it, he didn't want her to put herself in danger, but she assured him that it wouldn't happen. And here was the wonderful result.

She was thanking her father for being a werewolf, and the human stupidity in not having yet discovered the existence of other living beings with different abilities.

On top of that, the compassion they were showing her after this misfortune was truly hilarious.

Talking about how her late husbands, father-in-law and her distancing from society were the work of the successor to the dukedom, his obsession and fear of having someone take her away from him, how he started a fire and she ended up having to shove a knife in his heart in self-defense, it had been a theatrical show.

The Kim family even offered to host her. A kind family indeed, she had to admit. However, they had too much faith in the witchcraft that they detested so much, and she had once again entered another house of witch hunters without repercussions.

Humming as she sat at her dressing table in her new room, she looked at herself in the mirror, fixing some messy locks in front of her face.

"Jin, Namjoon or Taehyung? Who should I go for first?" she asked, eyes fixed on her reflection before showing an interested and pleased expression. "Oh, all three? Naughty."

After smiling one more time, she stepped out of her room, her reflection still adjusting her hair through the mirror.

Then she smiled, getting up and disappearing from the mirror.

A victorius and sly giggle echoing within the walls.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #yandere jungkook #bts au #yandere bts #bts smut #smut jungkook #smut bts #jungkook au #yandere #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #original character #jungkook yandere #bts yandere #jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #bts ff #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction

[pillow-anime-talk]

Nsfw 41 for ango from BSD for fem reader

Maybe their married idk

# tags: scenario; current marriage relationship; hot romance; smut; ango as a workaholic; nsfw

warnings: mention of sex and sexual acitivities, oral sex (female receives), fingering, desk sex, kisses everywhere, squirting, no condom, creampie, a bit of dirty talk, pet names

includes: female reader ft. ango sakaguchi {bsd}

authos’s note: i am sorry you waited so long, but i started working in mid-august, and i am also on an internship and i just don’t have much free time to write stories :(

41. “Of course. I am yours. Only yours.”

It was a quiet afternoon; September was a transitional month between warm summer and rainy and windy autumn, so today was a sunny day, and at the same time a gentle rain had been falling since the morning, which watered the plants in a natural way and also was a nightmare for women who had washed the windows or hung up the laundry at balcony the previous day.

However, you were proudly walking in the middle of the sidewalk with an dark blue umbrella in your hand. On the way, you only stopped at a bakery for two oatmeal cookies with dark chocolate, and then you got to the well-known building without any major problems. In this huge place, guarded by two security guards, your husband, Ango, worked. You had known each other for over a dozen years, and you met at university, when you chose the same field of study. At the beginning, your acquaintance was based on quick ‘Hellos’ and ‘Goodbyes’, but during one integration trip you became a little closer to each other and at the same time became friends. Then, during your second year of studies, you became a lovely couple and a few months after writing your diploma theses, he proposed to you. Your relationship was textbook and problem-free, and your arguments consisted of very domestic things like: taking out the trash, dirty dishes in the sink, and hair in the bathtub drain.

Everyone at Ango’s work knew you well, so they greeted you with a smile and a slight nod of the head. The woman behind the reception window didn’t even have to ask for your name or last name, she only nodded, saying that your husband was in his office and filling out the documents that had recently been delivered to him. You thanked her and wished her a peaceful afternoon – since it was almost 5 p.m. – and then headed to the right floor and then to a room you knew well. You knocked three times as was your custom and then went inside.

When Ango saw you, he merely tocuhed his glasses with a slight smirk, inviting you to sit right on his lap. You hadn’t really seen each other since last night, as your partner got up quite early and after a quick see you later kiss (while you were still asleep), left your cozy apartment twenty minutes from downtown.

“... I brought you a cookie, honey.” You giggled gently, placing the paper bag on the wooden desk right next to the stack of large books, papers and the black monitor.

“Thank you.” He replied, his soft smile was still visible. “How was your day, love?” And this simple question consumed you for the next half hour.

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

At some point, between eating a delicious cookie and drinking a cup of tea from the coffee machine under the window, and a short conversation on the phone with Hana – the woman from the ground floor, from the reception desk – that everyone had already left the office, you were seated on hard, slightly too cold wood, and your bare buttocks slid across its surface, soaking it from time to time.

Your husband’s tongue brought you to the brink of orgasm without any problem, and his hands gripped the skin of your thighs and calves. From time to time you felt his fingers pushing against your hot walls, and soft moans escaped your lips, muffled by your own hand. A feeling of uncertainty and at the same time excitement and joy bubbled in your mind and heart. At some point, your orgasm was so close that you tightened your legs around your husband’s neck, apologizing to him after a while.

Your pussy was throbbing, and although oral sex was an amazing alternative to regular one, at that moment you wanted nothing more than to have your beloved, long-term partner’s cock fill you to the very back of your uterus and fill you with cum until the last drop. At that thought, a few trickles of your juice wet Ango’s two fingers and his chin again.

“...Tell me what you want.” He said from between your legs and you just tilted your head back, biting your bottom lip between your teeth. “What’s going through your pretty head?”

“Ango…” You muttered, breathing raggedly. “Please stop. Enough of this. Just fuck me already.” The desperation in your voice was palpable and visiable. The dark-haired man only raised the right corner of his mouth. “Please...”

“You’re mine, right?” He raised an eyebrow slightly and you immediately nodded. Perhaps too fast and too chaotic, which could look comical from a third-person perspective.

“Of course. I am yours. Only yours.” You assured the twenty-five-year-old, and he smiled more clearly. “Ango, please. Baby.”

A few moments passed, too long for you, before your husband lifted his body and then rested both of his hands on the sides of your buttocks. He leaned down slightly to kiss your lips, swollen from biting, and you moaned once again that evening, feeling not only the taste of coffee without sugar and milk, but also yourself. Your hands immediately tangled in the unnaturally soft hair and your thighs tightened around the man’s waist. You felt his erection against your pussy and you almost died when his right hand cupped one of your breasts. Your bra was far away from you, as were your pants and lace panties. Ango was still in his clothes, although his belt was loose and his shirt had lost its white buttons.

“Make love with me.” You said shyly. Your voice was like a small cat begging for some attention. Your husband just chuckled under his breath, kissing you once again on the lips and then on the forehead before sliding his pants down to his ankles along with his black boxers. His cock glistened with precum, making your pupils big. “Ango...”

He ran the wet tip of his dick over your entrance a few times and you almost screamed at how much he was tormenting and toying with you. It only took a moment for you to melt between his fingers, but luckily after three seconds his cock entered you without any problem. You never needed lube, the overwhelming arousal gave you enough lubrication.

The room became stuffy as your breaths mixed together and your bodies hit each other, causing the desk to creak. You felt your pussy pulsating from the inside and your clit slapping against his pubic mound. Your husband’s cock was fucking you as good as ever, and the fact that you were having sex at his place of work added a strange but interesting edge to it all. Everything around seemed exciting.

A few moans, gasps and grunts later, the desk was getting wetter and wetter, your juices dripping onto the wooden floor, slightly lighter than the furniture. Your teeth bit into the skin of your husband’s neck while he tightened his grip on your waist, ass and thighs, sometimes your neck and hair as well, although he wasn't a fan of pulling them. He hit your g-spot with the greatest precision and didn't spare you a few hickeys, which after a few minutes proudly decorated your breasts and cleavage.

When you felt the distinct slap, you squirted like clockwork, making your pussy tighten even more on your man’s cock. He let out a long growl and then rested his forehead against yours – they were both sweaty and red, just like the rest of your faces: ears, nose, cheeks. He moved inside you a few more times, causing a few drops of cum to fall onto the wood between his legs, and then he sighed, tired.

“... We have to clean up.”

“Yes. We have to.”

#—🎉 #quote prompts #prompts challenge #4k followers #4k special #prompt 41 #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs scenarios #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #bsd #bsd scenarios #bsd imagines #bsd x reader #bsd x you #ango sakaguchi #ango sakaguchi imagines #ango sakaguchi scenarios #ango sakaguchi x reader #ango sakaguchi x you

[mountingpulisic]

theories that explain why we fall in love (christian p.)

part one

summary : an unexpected visitor shows up discussing a newly read book.

words : 851

you weren’t sure how you safely returned home after your tiring shift at the hospital. debilitated legs climbed the stairs where your flat awaited, there was nothing more you wanted to do than to sleep away your existence. 

work had made for the perfect distraction when it came to blocking your mind from remembering the sorrowful voicemail you had left christian a couple of days ago. 

had you regret it? you weren’t sure.

if anything you hoped leaving the voicemail would bring you a sense of closure but it had only scratched wounds that were beginning to heal. 

you began rummaging through your bag to locate your keys as you started to approach your front-door. 

head down with concentrated eyes focused on finding your keys, you didn’t notice the figure standing in-front of you. 

“y/n.” 

you were sure you were suffering from whiplash on how fast your head had snapped up due to the sound of your name. it wasn’t so much of your name being called but who had called it. 

the one person who you were actively trying to block from your memory. 

christian

your mouth gaped open and closed as you tried to find words, you weren’t sure if he was actually here or if your mind was playing games on you due to the lack of sleep. 

“i got your voicemail.” he spoke again, fiddling nervously with his fingers as he stared at the floor beneath him, not having enough strength to look you in the eyes just yet. 

you stood frozen parallel to him, staring at a hole in the middle of his curly brown hair, clasping your hands together to mask the urge to reach out to him. 

“i went and read the book, the one you were talking about”

no response.

“i’m not sure if you knew but the author also wrote another one. funny enough it’s called, theories that explain why we fall in love.” he scratched his beard anxiously.

christian then lifted his head, sending you a tight-lipped smile before he began to speak again. 

“likewise, a few of them made me think of you.” 

“chr-” 

“first theory was two am is awfully heavy to handle all on your own.” christian whispered, head turning back down to look at the floor. “remember how i would always get those horrible panic attacks? around two am too strangely, they were about anything and everything that was troubling me? and no matter where i was you’d show up? shit, y/n, i had one in honduras and you were knocking on my door two hours later” 

you knew christian was fighting back tears because of how his voice had noticeably become raspier, sniffles coming from his nose as well. 

“second theory being life before you knew their name was horrible.” he wiped the snot that was beginning to leak out of his nose on his sleeve, finally having the courage to maintain eye contact with you.

“you have no idea how much i hated england before i met you. i had never felt so alone. then i met you, and you made me hate england a little less, you made england feel like home.” christian’s voice died off at the end of the sentence. 

you wondered if that remained true, you would’ve thought with you turning down his marriage proposal, he’d want to burn down the home you two had built together even though you had already left it vacant.

“because of fear, because constantly running is exhausting.” you felt that one right in your chest.

“y/n, i understand you are afraid. hell, with what you’ve shared with me regarding everyone you’ve ever loved, i’d be scared to. but i’m not them, you have to understand that. you think i didn’t notice how you were holding yourself back from loving me? i could see it in everything you did, and i foolishly enough thought asking you to marry me would cause you to open your eyes and see that i’m not going to leave you like everyone else, that i’m in this for the long haul but that only scared you more and caused for you to run off. i am sorry for that for scaring you” 

your eyes began to watery as you listened to christian ramble, his feet navigating closer to you with every word. 

“because we don’t always have a choice.” 

christian took your shaky hands into his, lacing your fingers together as he gave your knuckles a gentle kiss. 

“because we had bravery to try.”

“because trembling hands needed something stable to hold on to.” christian pressed his forehead to yours as he whispered his next words. “ i know you think you don’t deserve me, i know you think that you don’t deserve a happy ending, however that is not true. you deserve everything this galaxy has to offer, and if it takes a month, a year, or a decade for you to realize your worth, i’m still going to be right here, holding your hand because you need me just as much as i need you.” 

christian pressed his lips to yours, a feeling you’ve grown to miss these past eight months. 

“because falling in love with you was the easiest thing i have ever done."

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you

[indigovigilance]

Sodom and Gomorrah: A Speculative Meta

on Ao3: Sodom and Gomorrah: A Speculative Meta

Sodom and Gomorrah is the story of a land so steeped in sin that many prayed to God for intercession, and God sent two angels to see for themselves if the rumors were true, and determine based on their testimony whether the cities should be destroyed.

In Season 1, we learn that Sandolphon was there, doing a lot of smiting and turning people into salt. The way that Aziraphale talks about it, we are led to believe that he was there too, bearing unhappy witness to the destruction, his plastered-on smile faltering as his vision fades into the middle distance:

In this meta I am taking an alternate stance to the wonderfully presented interpretation by @queerfables in my speculation of what happened in Sodom and its relevance to the GO story arc overall, if canonized. I hope that readers will consider the merits of both arguments in their own formulations of Aziraphale and Heaven in the GO universe.

TW: discussions of homophobia, sexual assault, death & destruction

Verses are taken from this translation of Genesis, chapters 18 and 19.

Genesis 18

20 Then the Lord said, “The outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah is so great and their sin so grievous

21 that I will go down and see if what they have done is as bad as the outcry that has reached me. If not, I will know.”

(Notably, the allegations made against Sodom and Gomorrah are never discussed. It is simply left at “sin so grievous.” Though it seems like there may be more information in Genesis 12)

But God herself did not go down to Sodom, instead sending two angels. I, like queerfables, read this and quickly came to the conclusion that for GO narrative purposes, the two angels that God sent to Sodom were Aziraphale and Sandolphon, where the former is playing tour guide to the latter, who has the real authority in the situation.

Upon arrival, the angels are met by Lot; he invites them to stay with him. At first they refuse, saying they will stay in the square, but he insists.

Genesis 19

4 Before they had gone to bed, all the men from every part of the city of Sodom—both young and old—surrounded the house. 

5 They called to Lot, “Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us so that we may know [have sex with] them.”

There is a lot of baggage to unpack from these two lines, especially in the 2023 context of politics in the Western hemisphere. Same-sex marriage is nearly ubiquitous, a near turnaround from only twenty years ago, but so is homophobic rhetoric, and the story of Sodom and Gomorrah is cited a lot for those purposes. Intersectional communities of faith have done a lot of work to try to reinterpret these two verses, insisting that what God finds so abhorrent about the actions of the men of Sodom is not that they are homosexual but rather that they are attempting to gang-rape two newly arrived strangers in their city.

For the real world, this is a very important discussion and a solid position to maintain, if one wishes to defend the concept of a benevolent God who made homosexual, bisexual, transgender, and every other flavor of human as lovingly and intentionally as was made every cisgender heterosexual person.

But we’re not talking about real-world God. We’re talking about the God in Good Omens. And She is not a very nice person. 

We have only to look at the contract that would allow the murder and then replacement of Job’s children, or the abject poverty under which Elspeth suffers that forces her to commit [apparent] atrocities, and ultimately drive her to attempt suicide. Whatever your feelings may be about the God of our shared meatspace, the God of Good Omens is not a character we are meant to admire, sympathize with, or make excuses for.

Returning to Sodom in the Good Omens universe.

I propose that it is thematically in keeping that the men of Sodom were not attempting to commit gangrape, but rather, they saw Sandolphon and fell in love on the spot. Because yes, Aziraphale is a fine scholarly-looking fellow, but it’s approximately 2000 B.C., the Bronze Age. Sodom and Gomorrah are most likely agrarian societies, and Sandolphon looks like he could throw a bale of hay like a javelin. He’s a whole lot of man, and the men of Sodom are into it. I mean, c'mon, Paul Chahidi in some biblical garb, is, uhh...

...not an eyesore, iykwim. [image source: imdb.com]

So they go to Lot’s house and ask if they can see this man, in hopes that they can ask him on a date. They are smitten by Sandolphon. Sure, the ultimate goal may be to have sex with them, but not right there on Lot’s doorstep, and the gross misquoting can be attributed to Sandolphon’s own libelous report of events, not to the Sodomites themselves. History is written by the victors, after all.

While we’re at it, let’s consider Lot’s response:

Genesis 19

6 Lot went outside to meet them and shut the door behind him 

7 and said, “No, my friends. Don’t do this wicked thing. 

8 Look, I have two daughters who have never slept with a man. Let me bring them out to you, and you can do what you like with them. But don’t do anything to these men, for they have come under the protection of my roof.”

In the true spirit of Good Omens comedy, I can envision Lot walking out among these men, complaining that not one of them has asked permission to court or marry either of his daughters of maritable age, and perhaps rather than simping for his houseguest, perhaps they would consider dating one of them instead. Is it homophobic? Sure, but I’m not here to defend Lot; he doesn’t need it. Because standing next to Sandolphon, he’s an absolute poppet.

(The remaining stanzas regarding the Sodomites breaking into Lot’s house, I am going to selectively set aside and chalk that up to Sandolphon blowing some Sodomite choice statements about Lot being a homophobic asshole way out of proportion.)

Sandolphon, a True Believer, is not about to stand for this insult to his heavenly purity. Angels do not have relations with humans, and to insinuate that he would even consider it is blasphemy. He takes it as a personal insult that the Sodomites would propose such a thing. He finds this to be evidence enough that the Sodomites are truly corrupt and worthy of destruction.

I feel the need to emphasize here that while this contains some distinctly queer themes, Sandolphon is not angry because they are men; he is angry because they are human, a different species from himself (in the same way that angels are different species from demons), and furthermore that anything resembling love the way humans do it is disgusting and vile to him.

Aziraphale, meanwhile, is standing helplessly on the sidelines, desperately trying and failing to de-escalate the situation. But it’s no use, Sandolphon has already made up his mind. There’s nothing left for Aziraphale to do but to try to save as many people as he can, beginning with Lot and his family.

Genesis 19

12 The two [angels] said to Lot, “Do you have anyone else here—sons-in-law, sons or daughters, or anyone else in the city who belongs to you? Get them out of here, 

13 because we are going to destroy this place. The outcry to the Lord against its people is so great that he has sent us to destroy it.”

Again, in the fashion that GO takes liberty with biblical narrative, I propose that it is Aziraphale alone who warns Lot that Sandolphon will destroy Sodom come sunrise, and sends him out into the night to gather his family and get them out as quickly as possible. I propose, additionally, that Aziraphale is the one who leads Lot and his daughters by the hand out of Sodom and then protects the village of Zoar from destruction so that they can take shelter there.

Genesis 19:

15 With the coming of dawn, the angels urged Lot, saying, “Hurry! Take your wife and your two daughters who are here, or you will be swept away when the city is punished.”

16 When he hesitated, the [angels] grasped his hand and the hands of his wife and of his two daughters and led them safely out of the city, for the Lord was merciful to them.

17 As soon as they had brought them out, one of them said, “Flee for your lives! Don’t look back, and don’t stop anywhere in the plain! Flee to the mountains or you will be swept away!”

18 But Lot said to them, “No, my lords,[or singular, lord] please! 

19 Your[singular] servant has found favor in your[singular] eyes, and you[singular] have shown great kindness to me in sparing my life. But I can’t flee to the mountains; this disaster will overtake me, and I’ll die. 

20 Look, here is a town near enough to run to, and it is small. Let me flee to it—it is very small, isn’t it? Then my life will be spared.”

21 He said to him, “Very well, I will grant this request too; I will not overthrow the town you speak of. 

22 But flee there quickly, because I cannot do anything until you reach it.” (That is why the town was called Zoar.[“small”])

While yes, this is a fictional interpretation of a biblical scripture, let’s take something from the fact that Lot is supposed to be addressing two angels, but the pronouns he uses to do so are all singular in the original Hebrew: that is to say, it seems like he is only talking to one angel. So in the victor-edited retrospective, the story is written to seem like two angels were rescuing him, but from the faithfully quoted words of his own mouth, it was only one. It seems like Sandolphon tried to write himself in as one of the good guys but couldn't bring himself to actually change the words that were coming from Lot's mouth. (Again, this is unnecessary work to do for the biblical narrative to be molded to a GO narrative, but it is an interesting feature of the original text nonetheless.)

At sunrise, the destruction begins: 

Genesis 19

23 By the time Lot reached Zoar, the sun had risen over the land.

24 Then the Lord rained down burning sulfur on Sodom and Gomorrah—from the Lord out of the heavens.

25 Thus [S]he overthrew those cities and the entire plain, destroying all those living in the cities—and also the vegetation in the land. 

26 But Lot’s wife looked back, and she became a pillar of salt.

So goes the story of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah: The cities are slandered before God, who sends Aziraphale and Sandolphon to investigate; Sandolphon is so incensed by human men flirting with him that he determines that the city shall be destroyed in the morning, and Aziraphale races against the clock to save as many as he can, knowing that he cannot save everyone. He bears witness as the men who resemble himself so much, who committed no greater crime than to seek out a forbidden love, perish in a rain of fire and brimstone. He must feign heavenly delight that a sinful blight was erased from the world, while mourning thousands of lost souls. He wonders if they have been sent to Hell. Even Lot’s wife, whose only crime was to question, to wonder what is behind her and perhaps regret leaving it behind, is turned to salt. He sees the vicious glee of Sandolphon exacting his revenge for the crime of impugning his celestial celibacy. He wonders what Sandolphon would do to him if he ever found out about the stirrings in his heart for a demon who, 500 years prior, had sat beside him on a rock, looking out over sea, comforting him as he nursed his wounded faith. He wonders just how far along with Heaven he can go, and what the consequences will be when he dares to say, “I will go no further.”

~~~

[image source: Wessex Archaeology]

For those who (like me) are interested, the story of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah seems to have been merged from two historical events, which was common in a period preserved primarily by oral history. The tale seems to resemble a volcanic event that occurred nearby and around that time, but Sodom and Gomorrah were most likely destroyed by an earthquake and a subsequent flood, since they were located in the Jordan Plain, the lowest dry land in the world, a full quarter of a mile below sea level at its lowest, and very near the Dead Sea. Additionally, the area is rich in bitumen, sulfur-rich near-surface petroleum deposits that, when disturbed by a major earthquake, may have sent hot tar flying into the air, which if it landed on anything flammable would give the impression that fire and brimstone were raining down.

✨ the more you know ✨

~~~

Blending together the biblical canon and archaeological speculation, I'm going to make a wild, unsubstantiated proposal that Crowley turns the people of Sodom into fish so that they survive the flood. Because one biblical flood was enough, and he'd heard around the water cooler that She had promised not to do that again (lying liar). This creates a tentative connection with the raining fish we see in the title credits of both seasons, and I'm also going to reference it in an upcoming meta.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #sandolphon #sodom and gomorrah #ivoc #textpost #long post

[peterpparkrr]

Pinned (Pt. 8)

Series: Pinned

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Summary: The Reader and Anthony discuss the reality of a future together. Reader knocks some sense into her brother. The Bridgertons meet Anthony’s fiancée.

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: After much delay, here’s the final chapter! Aka The HEA that these two deserve. Thank you so much for reading! The epilogue will be coming soon.

prev. part // epilogue

“People will talk,” You protest, shaking your head in disbelief.

Of all the confessions you expected to receive from Anthony Bridgerton, of all of the proposals he could give you, marriage had always been an impossibility.

“If you’re willing to weather the gossip, I am,” Anthony replied calmly.

“People will never accept us, or our children,” You tell him.

“My family has influence, an influence that will always trump that false sense of propriety that some members of society claim to have. And my mother has enough gossip tucked in her pocket to ensure it,” Anthony tells you. 

“I won’t pretend, some doors may be closed to our family, but that’s not something that will bother me, I promise.”

“I want to be with you, I’ve spent so much of my life worried about my family's legacies, protecting my family, but I’ve realized that I deserve happiness of my own, a life of my own, separate from all of them,” Anthony tells you.

“I know I’m asking a lot, that this will make us, and any family that we would have, the subject of gossip for the rest of our lives, but I will never stop loving you and I’m ready to fight for you, for us, and the future that I want for us, the family that I want for us.”

“Life is never easy, but it would be worth fighting if I had you by my side,” He tells you, his eyes boring into your own.

“Anthony,” You finally cut him off, still shaking your head.

He holds his tongue and his breath as he waits for your response.

“If your family supports this, then that’s more than enough for me. I love you, and that is all I care about,” You tell him as the emotions begin to well in your throat. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Anthony’s face breaks out into a wide grin as he closes the space between you, pulling you into his arms as he presses himself into you, his arms tight around your middle.

“I never thought I could be so happy,” You admit as the tears shine in your eyes once you break apart just far enough to see his face again, still wrapped up in one another. 

“Neither did I,” Anthony replies. “But I’ve recently learned that we both deserve it. To give ourselves a real chance at happiness.” 

“I agree,” You reply as you press your lips to his briefly. 

“May I?” Anthony asks as he pulls a ring box from his pocket. 

“Oh,” You murmur as you press a hand to your lips in surprise. 

“It was my mother’s betrothal ring,” Anthony explains as he bends on one knee to put it on your unsuspecting left hand, which still hangs dumbly at your side as he reaches for it, pushing the ring up your ring finger as you watch him silently. 

“And now we need to tell people,” You add quietly as you glance back at the road again, recalling that your brother is presumably still waiting somewhere down the block for you to return to him.

“Your brother…” Anthony replies gently.

“Don’t worry about him,” You tell him quickly. “I’ll take care of it.”

Anthony nods.

“I’ll give you two the afternoon to talk, can I retrieve you tomorrow and take you to meet my family.”

“Yes,” You reply.

“Tomorrow,” Anthony tells you as he leans in to kiss you once more before saying goodbye.

“Tomorrow,” You repeat as you watch him go. 

Your fiancé.

Oh my.

Once you return to some sense of calmness and normality you return to your brother who is still glowering at unsuspecting passersby on the street.

“Let’s go home,” You tell him as you tuck your hand into his arm and pull him back down the street toward your flat. 

Once you’re inside your flat and the door is firmly shut you finally look John in the eye. 

“We need to talk,” You tell him plainly as you clasp your hands in front of you.

“I don’t appreciate you speaking around me. Especially in public,” You tell him honestly. Something about you and Anthony admitting that you love each other and agreeing to get married has broken a dam that you didn’t know was inside of you. 

“That man-” John starts to argue.

“No,” You cut him off. “You are going to listen to me without interrupting.”

John finally nods and you continue.

“Anthony has asked me to marry him and I have said yes. That is not up for discussion. I am going to marry him. We have his family’s support. And I have his support and his love. I want to be happy.”

John starts to protest and you shake your head quickly. 

“I love him, and he loves me, why is it that his family can support this but you can’t?” You ask him.

“Men like that-”

“There are no men like Anthony,” You interrupt. “I’m sorry, but you don’t know him. Certainly not like I do. So how is your prejudice for him as a gentleman any different from the prejudice you have faced for being a laborer?” You ask sharply. Pointing out his hypocrisy bluntly.

“I want you to support this, I truly do, but I do not need your permission to marry,” You tell him. “So are you going to choose me, and support this, or are you going to choose your pride and refuse to accept that he makes me happy because of his title?”

“I…” John flounders for a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him at a loss for words.

Your heart sinks as your worry that perhaps you’ve thrown away the only family that you have in a moment of post-engagement madness.

“I choose you, of course I choose you,” John replies as he shakes his head.

“Good, because I’d really like you to walk me down the aisle,” You tell him as you smile at him in relief.

“I’d be honored,” John replies as he comes up to hug you tightly.

“I’m sorry for getting in the way of things, I love you more than anything,” He murmurs into your hair as he holds you tightly. 

“I love you too,” You reply as you squeeze him back. 

You felt like you were going to throw up. 

When you’d woken up that morning it took you a few moments to remember all of the events of the day before, Anthony finding you, the proposal, your difficult conversation with John. But the engagement allowed you to float through the morning in a bit of a haze.

Even when Anthony came to collect you

But now you were sitting in a carriage, about to pull up to Anthony’s family’s London home. To meet his family. A Dowager Viscountess and her children, one of whom was a Duchess. And try to present yourself as an appropriate match for a Viscount. 

You. 

Even though Anthony had assured you of his family’s support. Especially his mothers, you had not met them. Other than the time the brothers had come into the shop before all of this had happened, and you were certain none of them would recall that particular meeting. Noblemen never did look servants or hired people in the eyes.

And perhaps that would be for the best.

Anthony squeezed your hand reassuringly as the carriage came to a stop in front of the grand house you knew was the Bridgerton’s residence. Anthony had been talking for most of the ride but you’d stopped listening to him a while ago. You hoped he hadn’t noticed. Or at least, that he didn’t mind. 

You let him help you down from the carriage and lead you up the steps and into the house. When Anthony leads you to the drawing room you find the Bridgertons all gathered, all talking amongst themselves until they notice your appearance in the doorway.

“I’d like to introduce you all to Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Anthony announces to the room as the large family falls silent at the interruption. “My fiancée.”

The sudden silence quickly dissolves into an even louder conversation, now directed at the two of you as the family swarms to congratulate you and ask you a host of questions. Mostly about how on earth Anthony had found himself a wife without the rest of them knowing anything about it. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you all, I’ve heard so much about you,” You tell them all as Anthony tries to wrangle his siblings so that he can introduce each of them to you.

“Hello, dear,” Lady Bridgerton says as she sweeps you into a hug. 

“Lady Bridgerton-” You stammer out.

“Please, call me Violet, I’m just so glad Anthony came to his senses,” She tells you warmly.

“I know Anthony says we have your blessing, but if-”

“I want my children happily married,” Violet replies simply. “If you will make him happy- and I can already tell that you do- then I am thrilled to have you join our family,” She reassures you. 

As the younger Bridgerton siblings continue to pepper you with questions about yourself you are hit with a sudden rush of affection for the Bridgertons, a massive family who have already enveloped you into their family as one of their own. 

You’d never been part of a real family before. And you’d certainly never dreamed of being a part of a family this big. But as you felt Anthony’s hand brush against your own gently you were certain that this sort of family life would suit you just fine.

#pinned #pinned series #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton drabble #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton series #Bridgerton #Bridgerton Series #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton drabble #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton reader insert #anthony bridgerton reader insert #anthony bridgerton x female reader

[hawkins-losers]

It’s a love story, baby just say ‘yes’ | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You and Eddie get married in secret

Word count: 1k

A/N: I couldn’t not write something about Love story. This was supposed to be longer, but I scrapped the rest because I hated it

-

It was crazy, but standing in your mid-thigh white dress in Eddie's van, it felt right. Nothing ever felt more right.

Eddie's hand was on your thigh as he drove to Hawkins' city hall, sporting the same shit-eating grin on his face since he woke up. He was very excited.

You were too, but you had a nervous knot in your stomach that wouldn't go away. You and Eddie hadn't told anyone about your afternoon plans. Only Chrissy and Gareth knew, being each other's witnesses. You didn't want to have a big wedding ceremony, scared anyone would oppose the wedding and ruin your big day.

You hadn't even told your parents.

You were scared of their reaction when they'll see the red diamond on your ring finger. When they'll realize what you did behind their back.

Your mom is going to freak out. She didn't hate Eddie, but he wasn't what she had wanted for you. She was secretly hoping you’ll grow out of this ‘phase’ and realize that Eddie is not the right guy for you. She wanted blond hair and a scholarship - cough, Jason Carver - , not long hair and a creaky van.

Your dad is going to be furious. Since the beginning of your and Eddie’s relationship, he had been very vocal about his dislike and disapproval of your boyfriend, leading to you and Eddie sneaking around their backs to see each other.

Your love hadn’t been easy, but it was nice to know that all these nights sneaking out to the garden to see him and the countless 'sleepovers at Chrissy's' who were sleepovers at Eddie's hadn’t been for nothing.

Eight months later, your love was still going strong - much to their dismay.

The night he proposed, you didn’t see it coming.

You and Eddie were quietly talking in his bed about everything and nothing when he pulled out a ring pop and asked for your hand. At first, you had laughed, assuming it was a joke, but the seriousness in his deep brown eyes and the way he had been nervously biting his lip as he held it out told you it was real.

‘’I can't offer you a fancy house or big rocks to wear around, but I love you, and that's all I really know.’’

He paused, reaching for the real ring that was safely hidden in the case of his guitar - away from your snoopy self. It was in a small velvet case; a beautifully crafted silver band with a red diamond in the middle. It gave fantasy crowns vibes and you loved it.

’’Y/N, I know this is soon and that we're very young, but you're the best thing that ever happened to me. You're my light when all others go out. You're the one I want by my side in every situation until my dying breath. You love me wholly and for who I am, with my dramatics antics, quirks and sardonic jokes.’’

A soft laugh had spilled from your lips, your eyes sparkling with emotions. Although the ring had been right in front of you, you still couldn’t believe it was happening. You could feel your heart beating, thumping, through your whole body.

‘’We've been told many times that our love shouldn't be, but fuck their opinions and let's get married. What do you say?’’

Tears were blurring your eyes as you nodded, your voice stuck in your throat due to the emotions.

An ear to ear grin broke on Eddie’s face at your answer, making him happier than the day he bought his precious guitar. ‘’It’s a ‘yes’?’’

You nodded again, and he grabbed your face to kiss you. ‘’Yes. A thousand and one times yes,’’ you said against his lips, a happy tear falling down your face.

Less than a month later, after saying 'I do' and signing the wedding papers, you and Eddie had a little moment outside the courthouse. His earlier grin was still there, but it was accompanied by a bounce in his step and sparkles in his deep brown eyes. He never thought he'd get married, but here he was, holding your marriage license in his left hand.

''We did it! We got married!'' you gushed, jumping in front of your newly-husband. Your mouth was hurting from smiling so much in the past thirty minutes.

''Damn right, Mrs. Munson,'' Eddie confirmed, smiling as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You felt a flutter in your chest, hearing your new name for the first time. Mrs. Munson. It felt odd on your tongue - not used to it yet -, but you liked the sound of it.

You snaked your arms around Eddie's neck, kissing your husband with all the passion and love you had in you.

''Do we have to go to the party? I kind of just want you to myself,'' Eddie asked when he pulled away, needing to breathe. ''I want my wife all to myself.'' He planted a kiss on the side of your neck, then traveled up to your ear and jaw, making you giggle.

You secretly wished you could do that too, wanting nothing more than to spend the next days alone with Eddie, but everyone was celebrating at your house. You and Chrissy had organized a last gathering before parting for college, but you had known all along that it was a wedding party.

''We can't ditch them like that. They still think it's a last gathering party.''

Eddie cocked an eyebrow, playing coy. ''It's not?''

You hit his shoulder, then smiled at the nice button-up he had put on for the event. He looked so handsome. You thought you'd have to put up a fight to make him dress nice and ditch the band tee shirts, but Eddie had surprised you and already bought a black button-up. It wasn't the traditional groom attire, but neither was your short dress.

When you pulled up at your house, you stayed in the van and took a couple deep breaths before throwing yourself at the wolves. Some people will be happy for you, but you were expecting some bad reactions too.

''Will you hold my hand if it goes terribly bad?''

Eddie took your hands in his and kissed them. ''I said 'I do' didn't I? For better and for worse.''

Your heart swelled with fondness. You had definitely made the right choice by marrying him.

-

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  @wandamaximoffs-deadchild  @horrorstreet  @rmeddar123  @pastel-abyss-x​ @lil-tracys  @lanalanabanana @Sinclairlust  @luvmybbies  @chloepricesgrafitimarker  @inluvweddiemunson  @i-like-trains​  

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss  @eddiemattress  @ghoulishlygrey   @paola-carter @bubsonnobx @pauldanoswifereal @ofherscarlettwitchways @kiszkathecook  @truewdw1 @bubsonnobx @ohhrexella @Dreamtiara @pastelbabygirl19  @steves-robin @eddiemunsonbby @jenlouvre @bonked-beyond-belief2  @tvserie-s-world @bootlegmothman420 @courtmr @chrisxevans-seb @satinselenite @thikkiesixx  @jennilynn63  @nia-um  @welcometohellfirw @strangermarvelgirl @sugar-simz @fandomloversvaries @miakatharinaa​  @julsss321 @m1rkw00dpr1ncess  @Minksblog @soph69420world  @ameliakf13 @nancewheelersworld @parasadic-blog @nluvwitheddiemunson @veniceb1tch88​ @ali-r3n @Luv.eddie @stephylovesmayahawke

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie stranger things

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

DAY TWENTY-FIVE: Proposing on Christmas w/ Daryl Dixon

a/n: It's the final day, and this challenge has sure given me a run for my money oh my goodness. I'm not proud that I let this challenge slip away from me, but I am proud that I didn't allow myself to abandon it, even though I did want to on major occasions. Sadly, I had suffered a severe case of writers' block and burnt-out motivation, but it seems as though my time away has lifted my spirits! I have received many requests leading up to now, so I'll be sure to catch up on those slowly but surely, and I thank those who have been oh so patiently waiting. I also want to thank everyone for their support on this! It truly was fun, but I think that's enough challenges for me until later lol!!

masterlist | ficmas masterlist | AO3

TAGLIST: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood

Daryl was never one to be nervous, let alone on Christmas. Even before the fall of humanity, he had never once celebrated, and even if he did, it would’ve been a shitty holiday in the Dixon family household, accompanied by a drunk and abusive father, with an equally high and bigot brother, and an absent mother. So, it was safe to say that the man had never once imagined himself celebrating, until you, until he learned how this was your favorite time of the year, how he had noticed the lift in your spirits as the first snow fell. Until he had imagined himself being with you forever.

He had seen the happiness that marriage had brought Glenn & Maggie, but he also saw the sadness that plagued Lori & Rick as well. He had seen how broken up Maggie was when Negan had killed Glenn, how vengeful Rick became when Lori had lost her life to giving birth to Judith. He had seen the highs and lows of every kind of marriages, so he had no choice but to ask the only woman that he could trust, and that was Michonne. Yes, Rick was gone. There was no going around it. He had spent months out in the open searching for what felt like a ghost, and in those moments of loneliness, of a punishment he had unknowingly sent himself to, he had realized that he couldn’t be without you, and it would be the biggest mistake he had ever made if continued in this life without you being permanently bound to him.

“Michonne.” Daryl called out to the woman as he approached her. It took her attention away from whatever council business she was in the middle of. “I uh- I gotta ask ya something.’” He said as he fidgeted with his fingers nervously. “Anything.” She said with a smile on her face. “So, I wanted to uh- propose to ______, ‘nd I wanna do it on Christmas but, I don’ know how to.” He confessed sheepishly. The smile on her face was one that wanted to tease, but also help the poor guy out. “Just do it from the heart, Daryl. I know for a fact that she won’t say no, trust me.” Her words were comforting, and she knew that she would never lie to him.

Now all that was left was waiting for the right moment. Does he dress up? Does he gather an audience? It was only then that he realized how intimate and personalized proposals were. There was no right way to do it, in the moment when you two were alone, trudging through the forest as it snowed that he felt deep within his gut that this was it, the moment he had been waiting for.

“Stop.” He said suddenly, hearing the crunching that was coming from behind him cease. “Dar? What’s wrong?” You asked him quietly, eyes frantically searching in front of him for any type of danger, or food. “I uh-“ What was he supposed to say now? He turned around to face you, taking your hands in his. “The snow making you feel romantic, Daryl?” You teased, a soft smile on your face as you watched his large hand swallow yours. “I guess.” He confessed with his own crooked smile on his face. “I know ‘m supposed’ta know what’ta say but... I ain’ never done anything like this before. I’ve thought about this for a long time, hell, even asked Michonne to help me, but uh-" He got down on one knee and you swear you stopped breathing. “Daryl?” You asked shakily. He looked up at you through the hair in his face and dug something from within his back pocket. He had always had a habit of carrying your ring with him everywhere he went.

“Ya don’ gotta say nothin’ jus’... will ya marry me?” There it was the big question that had sat in the back of his throat and his mind for what felt like years. He watched as a large smile broke out on your face despite the tears spilling down your full, cold cheeks. “What do you mean I don’t have to say anything, Daryl? Of course, I’ll marry you!” You could practically scream at the top of your lungs as he stood up, his pants leg now soaked in melted snow. You giggled at the sight of it and Daryl grinned, reaching for your hand and slipping on the band that he had made for you.

“I know it ain’ much, but there’s only so many rings shop in the world, and I didn’ know what your ring size was.” You cupped his cheeks, thumb rubbing at the scruff. “Daryl, it’s perfect, and it’s so... you. I don’t need a gold or diamond ring, all I need is you, always and forever.” And with that, you kissed him, and he kissed you back, pulling your body into his.

At the end of the day, both of you walked out of the greenery as husband and wife. Not yet at least.

#25 days of ficmas #25 days of ficmas 2022 #daryl dixon 25 days of ficmas #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size!reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #fluff #fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon blurb #daryl twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon the walking dead #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey steph!! would you happen to have any more drunk/drinking fics? i adore them sm xD

thank you so much <3

Hi Lovely!!

I do I DO! And enough to make your request a new list!! Thank you!!!

Hope these please you! And if anyone has newer fics to add, as always, I welcome you to add them to the post!

DRUNK AND DRINKING JOHNLOCK Pt. 3

See also:

Drunk and Drinking Johnlock

Drunk and Drinking Johnlock Pt 2

Drinking Games / Hanging Out (Oct 2023)

Cute-Drunk Sherlock

Tipsy by katkin (T, 2,781 w., 2 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Drunk Sherlock) – "I love everyone in this room," he announced proudly."I know you do, buddy," John replied "Which is why you're going to clean this carpet in the morning. Because you're a good friend." "I am a good friend!" Sherlock agreed.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all. 

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles, Girl’s Night, Texting, Virgin Sherlock, Drunk Sherlock) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion.

Out There by DiscordantWords (T, 131,695 w., 10 Ch. || X-Files Fusion || Past Soldier John, Panic Attacks, POV Alternating Present Tense, Anxious John, Canon Adjacent, Deductions, Obsessive Sherlock,, Travelling, Sherlock’s Family, Jealous Sherlock, Mind Palace John, Awkward Flirting, Batting Cage, Kidnapped/Abducted John, Semi-Reverse Reichenbach, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Hospital, Slow Burn, UST, Case Fic, Government Conspiracy, Aliens, UFOs, Mutants, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Coma John, Forehead Touching, Hand Holding, Drinking/Bars, Past Jolto) – FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #drinking fics #drinks and drinking #alcohol cw #drunk characters fics #drinking game fics #my fic recs

[mrs-murder-daddy]

I was wondering if I could request some Ronald Speirs x Gender neutral reader fluff? Thanks :)

A/N: Of course! After all I am his Mrs so I should hope I can write for him haha - I hope you enjoy!

Also please let me know if I've missed something in making this gender neutral!

Whatever You Want to Do Is Alright with Me

Ronald Speirs x Reader

Ron Speirs had never given you the impression that he was sentimental or romantic. That’s not to say he didn’t love you, or that he didn’t prove how much he cares for you every day. You just never pictured him being engaged or married to someone, let alone that person being you.

But spending the better part of two months in a freezing forest with no idea whether the other was safe changed something. After Ron congratulated Lipton on his battle commission, he found you half asleep tucked under Bull Randleman’s arm. 

Ron suspected some of the men know of your relationship, perhaps not how serious, but enough to understand that you care for each other. Bull gave you a gentle shake when Ron approached and you rubbed a bleary eye.

You pat Bull on the shoulder before following Ron to a room at the back of the church. It wasn’t much but it gave you both some semblance of privacy. You essentially fell into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and dropping your head to rest on him.

One of his arms settled around your middle while the other hand rubbed up and down your back. All was quiet for a while.

Then, in typical blunt fashion, Ron asked, “How do you feel about marriage?”

You leaned back to scrutinise his face, “I wouldn’t mind getting married one day, why?”

He simply hummed and the corners of his mouth dipped down in a rather comical expression.

“What’s ‘hmm’ mean?” You mimicked the little movement. He shook his head and kissed your temple.

And that was that.

As Easy Company moved through Germany and later Austria, your Captain looted more than anyone else, you were certain. His favourite thing to steal was jewellery, mostly rings, because they were small enough to send lots of it home. And he could get you exactly the ring you wanted. 

“Too small.” Well his mom could wear it.

“Too big.” Surely a cousin would love it.

“I like this stone but I’m not sure about the size of it.” Perfect, that just narrows it down.

It was one beautiful day in Zell am See, you were sunbathing on the pier while some of your boys splashed around in the water. Your name was called by a private, some replacement you should know the name of.

He told you to meet your man at the house he was billeted in. When you got there, Ron led you inside to ‘his’ room where a stunning formal outfit was laid out for you, next to a suit for him. You figured this was going to be the night he formally proposed.

By the time you both got dressed and went downstairs, the house was suspiciously empty.

“How did you manage to get everyone out of here?”

“I have my methods.” He smiled and showed you to the dining room where a small dinner was prepared along with your favourite (accessible) drink. He pushed your chair in when you sat, lit the candles on the table, then crashed into his seat across from you.

You ate in comfortable quiet, speaking only when you wanted to. The meal was delicious and you made a mental note to find out who cooked it later. Once you were finished and everything was squared away, Ron took your left hand in his.

You sighed through your nose, “You’re sure about this right?”

“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life, sweetheart.”

You smiled brightly, nose tingling and lips beginning to quiver.

Ron pulled a chain out from under his shirt, a stunning ring hanging from it. A ring more beautiful than even your dreams could come up with.

You looked at him for permission, which you got, before taking the ring in hand. Tears began to fall in earnest, your grin growing ever wider.

“I love you Ronald Speirs.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

#ronald speirs x reader #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers fanfic #ron speirs x reader

[samstree]

time and time again

Marriage proposals, through the years.

(5.2k ☆ also on AO3)

The first time Geralt proposes to Jaskier, they are near those mountains again.

Caingorn is just on the horizon, and the bard walks before the witcher, humming an absent tune. The sky rumbles with the coming rain, the wind cutting into their skin, cold and unrelenting.

“Marry me.”

The words come as a surprise even to himself, but the distant ache in his chest urges him forward. Jaskier turns around with his eyes round and mouth agape.

“Come again?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt lets out a breath. They’ve both stopped in the middle of the road, awkward and hesitant, and Roach is nudging him with a gentle bump. “Will you marry me? I thought…we could, if you are willing.”

Geralt fumbles, feeling too wrong-footed to look into Jaskier’s eyes, but Jaskier appears before him nonetheless.

“Why are you asking?” Jaskier says, watching Geralt in earnest. There is understanding in his eyes and a reserved smile on his lips, as if he already knows the answer.

“I…want to?”

The ache in Geralt’s chest morphs into the familiar shape of guilt, and he can’t help but feel like he’s fucked up once again. In these mountains, it seems to be all he does.

“Oh, darling.” Soft hands cup Geralt’s cheeks and guide him to those blue eyes. The wind weaves into Jaskier’s hair, but there is no hurt in his expression. They’ve left that day years ago. The sight of red doublet and heartbreak only exists in memories and bad dreams, but somehow, Geralt feels like it’s still constricting his throat. “It’s because of these mountains, isn’t it?”

It’s not an accusation, and yet, Geralt feels the need to justify it. “I’m not asking because of this place.” He shakes his head, even though doubt creeps up, making his voice unsure. “I wanted to.”

“Wanted me to marry you?” Jaskier pauses. “Or wanted to prove something?”

Geralt opens his mouth and closes it, so Jaskier continues.

“I thought so.” He sighs, looking unreasonably tired. “Geralt, you’ve been acting weird since we set out. I didn’t know how to ask, and I know you still blame yourself for getting angry at me back then, but I promise you. This is not the answer.”

“I’m not…weird.” It’s an unconvincing defense even to himself.

“Sure you aren’t. There’s no broody silence, no unprompted fussing, no looking at the mountains as if they’ve personally offended you. No, sir, of course not. Seriously, for a while I thought you’d sprain something.”

Geralt winces. Has he really been that dramatic? “But I do love you.”

Warmth flows in Jaskier’s eyes, relaxing the worry between his brows. “I’m well aware, you oaf, but have you not heard of that famous saying? Guilt is not the reason to start a marriage between a witcher who blames himself too much and a bard who has long forgiven him.”

Geralt looks at Jaskier incredulously. “You just said that.”

“Nuh-uh.” Jaskier shakes his head in all seriousness. “It’s the quote of a great poet, the greatest one of them all, one might argue!”

“Hmm. Don’t know who’s arguing that.”

It earns him a gentle slap on the shoulder.

“You are lucky I love you,” Jaskier teases, but it comes out too soft to be berating.

“I am,” Geralt says solemnly. “I know I am, and I just want to—” he cuts himself off, realizing what he’s about to say. “Oh, I just want to prove it.”

“Yes, but have you considered I might not trust your question, if you’re only asking because of a painful past?”

Doubt creeps into Jaskier’s voice, tainting his confidence. Geralt recognizes it like scars upon his heart. In the process of his spiraling, he’s neglected how it must look to Jaskier—him pulling away slowly and letting guilt take charge, him only asking the big question because of the unfortunate route of their travel.

Geralt swore he’d never make Jaskier feel unwanted, but he has achieved the opposite just now.

“Alright, I take it back.” He takes Jaskier’s hand and kisses his palm. “Guilt is not the reason.”

Time is needed to reshape his guilt and untangle all the messy parts left by those mountains, and Geralt has some waiting to do.

☆ 

The second time, Geralt asks with his face pressed against Jaskier’s stomach, his arms circling the bard’s hips, keeping him impossibly close.

“If you have to leave,” he whispers into the night, “will you marry me tonight?”

Jaskier goes still in his embrace. His fingers, previously tracing the hairline at Geralt’s nape, come to a stop. Geralt keeps his hold so Jaskier cannot see his expression when the rejection inevitably comes.

“Geralt.”

He stays there, not answering.

“Geralt?” With Jaskier standing and Geralt perched on the bed, it’s easy for him to place a hand on Geralt’s shoulder and force distance between them. “Geralt, will you look at me?”

Geralt looks up and tries to remember every detail of Jaskier’s face—the candlelight dancing in his eyes, the day-old stubble lining his chin, the curve of his lips and the sadness that cannot be hidden.

“I am looking at you.”

“No, it’s the wrong way of looking. You look at me as if I’m going to die.”

A shiver runs down Geralt’s spine.

“It’s dangerous,” Geralt argues. “You cannot go back to Dijkstra like this, not after what you did to protect us. He’d never let you walk away.”

“He wouldn’t touch me. My name is too well-known in Redania—”

“Your fame can’t protect you forever.”

“And neither can a marriage license.”

“Gods, Jaskier!”

His scowl is equal parts frustrated and so, so terrified.

The muscles under Geralt’s palms shift when Jaskier takes a deep breath. He looks determined, and a determined Jaskier is a force to be reckoned with. He is never one to back down when Geralt raises his voice. If they descend into a yelling match, the parting will be an ugly one yet, and it’s the last thing Geralt wants before Jaskier’s possible suicide mission.

“I can handle Dijkstra.” Instead of chasing Geralt in his frustration, Jaskier keeps his voice low and patient. He squirms out of Geralt’s arms and sits next to him, their thighs pressed together. “This is my job, knowing what people want and giving it to them, no more and no less. We both know you cannot come with me. It’d be threatening Ciri and Yen now that Nilfgaard is hardly the only one looking for the three of you. Please, Geralt, I just need you to trust me to come back to you.”

“I—” Geralt finds no words. His trust doesn’t waver, but in the candlelight, Jaskier looks more fragile than ever. The night has washed away all his defense, and all that’s left is just a bard and his stubbornness, all flesh and blood, all human.

It’s unfair that Geralt’s heart is made of something so vulnerable.

“Will you still marry me?” he asks. “Just tonight, only the two of us will know, but at least it’s like—I’ll feel like…”

“Like you can still protect me.” Jaskier finishes the sentence, understanding dawning on his face. His fingers find Geralt’s trembling ones and hold on tight in return, mirroring Geralt’s desperation from a moment ago. “Gods, you are so scared. Come here.”

Geralt ends up with his head on Jaskier’s shoulder and inhaling the calming scent of his skin. He tries to remind himself that Jaskier is here, that he’s safe.

For now.

“Witchers don’t feel fear,” Geralt replies on instinct, but sinks his weight into Jaskier’s soothing embrace further.

“Mm-hmm, and the sky is green and I can duel a griffin.”

Geralt finally lets out a defeated sigh. He should know a lost battle when he sees one. He hasn’t won against Jaskier in years; he’s not capable of it anymore. “Will you now tell me fear is also the wrong reason to marry?”

Jaskier hums, his hand running up and down Geralt’s back. He doesn’t reply for a beat, only seems to contemplate in silence.

“I just,” Jaskier finally starts, his breath warm on Geralt’s skin. “I just want to make sure when you ask me,” he pauses, “it’s you asking me.”

Geralt pulls away to meet those gleaming blue eyes. “It is me asking.”

“Is it though? Is it really, when you think there is no tomorrow for us?”

Geralt has no answer for it. When Jaskier comes back then, he will ask again when Jaskier comes back and they are free of all that is painful on this continent.

Jaskier continues to murmur sweet nothings into Geralt’s hair while holding him, until he can feel his lungs take in air again. They settle into the bed before Jaskier speaks again.

“Nothing can hurt me, as long as you are safe.”

The scars on Jaskier’s fingers are tender under Geralt’s touch. He cradles Jaskier’s hands as he drifts off, and wakes up to a cold bed.

Jaskier has left when Geralt is sleeping.

☆ 

They find each other as summer rolls around, peppering the forest ground with lush green and golden dappled light. When the trees make way, Jaskier is there at the end of the road. They pick up the pace and crash into one another in laughter and clumsy limbs. The hug is so tight that Geralt’s feet are lifted into the air.

“How’s our witchy princess?” Jaskier asks between loud kisses all over Geralt’s face. “Still witchy?”

“Still witchy,” Geralt confirms.

“And our sorceress?”

“Good.”

“Aww, shame.”

Geralt puts a stop to Jaskier’s cheeky lies with another kiss on his mouth but all the giggling makes it difficult. They find a patch of moss by a creek and lie down in the shade. Jaskier’s forehead is pressed against Geralt’s shoulder, and he closes his eyes with a contented hum.

“Told you I’d come back to you.”

“Hmm.” Geralt drinks in the sight of his bard tired but happy, and finds his heart picking up its slow pace. He’s found Jaskier again, which means the question once again weighs on his tongue. “You know what I will ask now, right?”

Jaskier blinks open his eyes and watches Geralt with an inscrutable expression. He’s still caught off guard, somehow, still surprised at Geralt’s intentions to stay by his side.

“Will you ask,” Jaskier says, “now that nothing is forcing you?”

“Will your answer be yes?”

Jaskier only blinks, his lashes fluttering with coming tears. There is fear in his scent, just a smidge to taint the happiness around them. “And if it’s not a yes?”

There is no guilt resting on Geralt’s breastbone, no past mistake chasing him to pick up the pace. There is no one threatening their lives, or at least for the near future. Geralt’s proposal would be from the heart. It would be from him alone.

If Jaskier still rejects him, it would be because he’s simply not ready.

Oh.

Love unfurls in Geralt’s chest at the easy solution, the easiest, really.

“If it’s not,” Geralt chooses each word carefully, “I will wait, and ask again.”

Jaskier lets out a long exhale as a tear slides down his temple. “You will?”

As if there is room for Geralt’s heart to change.

“I will,” he promises. “There will be a time for us, and I understand it may not be now. Jaskier, you made me wait because my heart was not in the right place, and now I will wait for yours too.”

I won’t leave. He doesn’t say, but Jaskier hears anyway. I’ve long since lost the ability to leave you behind.

With a shaky breath, Jaskier flips himself over and sprawls all over Geralt’s chest, hiding his face in the fabric of Geralt’s tunic.

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispers, his hand resting at the dip of Geralt’s waist. “I just need some time.”

“You have it, Jaskier.”

Twenty years. Jaskier gave him twenty years first. If it means Geralt needs to wait twice as long, three times, the rest of his days, even, it’d still be well worth it.

☆ 

Geralt falls into a new habit of waiting.

It doesn’t change much, showing his heart from time to time. His proposals often fall on the beginning of summer, taking the form of a quiet whisper or a small bouquet. Jaskier’s smile is a beautiful thing when Geralt utters these two words.

Marry me.

Marry me here. Marry me at the coast. Marry me when we get home this year. Marry me so Lambert loses a bet.

The answer Geralt dreams of hasn’t arrived. He thinks it’s become a test, somehow, and wonders if Jaskier is waiting for him to give up.

“You said witchers didn’t marry,” Jaskier says after Geralt’s most recent proposal. They’ve both been drinking the local Cidaris ale all night. The coastal brew is as powerful as their sea shanties, but Jaskier downs another tankard without a beat. “Are you the black sheep of your family, Geralt of Rivia? Proposing marriage to bards left and right, what would Vesemir say?”

Jaskier’s cheeks are flushed warm, and his eyes sparkle with the effect of alcohol, his temples crinkling with mischief. He’s too beautiful like this, and Geralt nearly blurts out another proposal right on the spot.

“Been around humans too much, I suppose.” Geralt sips his drink and lets Jaskier steal the cup from him. “And there are no bards. It’s just the one. He’s more than a handful already.”

“I’m a menace!” Jaskier agrees with delight, his giggles giving way to an air of melancholy after a few moments. He lets out a dramatic sigh, the kind he only reserves for the stage or the privacy of two. “But…why have you not tired of it? If it’s…truly what you want, what if I can never give it to you?”

No one had asked what Geralt wanted before Jaskier came along. No one has made Geralt’s life so full of joy like Jaskier since. If there is one thing Jaskier cannot give Geralt, does it really compare to the constellation of happiness he’s already painted across Geralt’s life?

“What if the sky crumbles and the ground sinks into the sea?” Geralt shakes his head. “If you cannot give me your hand in marriage, we will go on like this, and I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Like this?”

“Hmm, life with you. It’s…it’s everything already. You must know, Jaskier. Marry me today or never, I’m happy with you.”

Geralt is on the verge of tipsy, which means Jaskier must be well past drunk. It’s when he has the worst ideas. From the way his eyes light up, that is precisely what is happening.

“Oh!” Jaskier yelps, tugging Geralt’s hand. “I have an idea!”

“It’s a shit one.”

“Nonsense, I have the best ideas drunk!”

Geralt follows Jaskier with a sloppy smile on his face, his arms circling Jaskier’s back so he doesn’t fall over and plant his face in the mud. They leave the tavern and travel along a footpath away from the beach. They walk until the local Melitele’s temple is right in front of them, towering over the roaring sea from the clifftop.

Geralt stops in his tracks. “Jaskier?”

“Did you know Cidaris is one of the few places on the continent where you can marry on the spot? No questions asked, no waiting time, no paperwork. You walk into a temple, find a priestess, she ties your hands together, and bam! Married! Not a wise combination with all that ale if you ask me, but, oh well.”

Jaskier shrugs, and continues to lead Geralt inside the building. Their footsteps echo under the high roof, accompanying the pounding of Geralt’s heart.

“You cannot be serious.” Geralt huffs without humor. “Jaskier.”

“What?” Jaskier turns with force and almost stumbles. Geralt has to catch him by the armpits. “Is it not what you’ve been asking of me?”

“It…is, but.” Geralt shakes his head. “Is this your answer?”

Jaskier looks to the side at the altar, and illuminated by the flickering candlelight are the twin cushions placed neatly on the floor. He hums noncommittally and walks towards it, hesitating for a moment before kneeling on one of them.

Geralt kneels next to him. The temple is quiet with few worshippers, and they must need to call for a priestess if they were to wed.

But something tells Geralt it won’t be needed.

“It scares me, you know,” Jaskier says.

“Marriage?”

It makes sense. Jaskier has never been one to be tied down, flitting between past lovers and never staying for long. Geralt is a rare exception, but maybe it’s never been enough.

“No.” Jaskier turns away from Geralt to lower his head. “You, giving up on me. You, finding someone else who will accept your hand. You, deciding I’m not worth it after all. I’ve never been scared of you, but the idea of you leaving scares me shitless.”

Not being able to stand the ache in his chest, Geralt takes Jaskier’s chin and kisses him. Their position is awkward with the cushions placed side by side, so he keeps the kiss sweet and gentle. They look like a newlywed couple, just without the ribbon around their wrists.

“You think,” Geralt says, nuzzling Jaskier’s warm cheek, “I wish to settle down with just anyone?”

“Well, not anyone. It sounds silly if you put it like that.”

Jaskier looks up at Geralt through his lashes, and the redness of his face deepens with a combination of embarrassment and inebriation.

“Silly indeed, as if there’s anyone else out there who’d wed me.”

“Don’t put yourself down.” Jaskier gives him a stern look. “Do you have any idea how many hearts will be breaking when we do tie the knots?”

When.

Geralt can’t help the grin stretching on his face even though Jaskier doesn’t seem to notice his choice of word. It fills Geralt with hope, but it’s a steady, secure kind of hope, settling his doubts and uncertainties.

“Unlike you, whose marriage will be a relief to husbands and wives everywhere.” Without waiting for Jaskier to squawk in offense, Geralt pulls him up by the elbows. “Come on. We should go.”

They leave the temple behind with Jaskier huffing and puffing, recounting all the heartbreaks he left in his wake. Geralt has to admit defeat eventually just so the bard doesn’t wake the whole town.

One day, they’ll be back here. But not today.

☆ 

Yennefer beats them to it by proposing to Triss the next year.

Their big day summons them all to Toussaint right before Belletyne. The invitation to their handfasting ceremony makes Jaskier very petty, citing sorceresses and their unreasonably fast courtship and the unfairness of it all given their prolonged lifetime.

It is true that Yen has only just figured out her feelings for Triss not long ago, but with how smitten they both seemed even before, Geralt can’t say he didn’t see it coming.

He was also the first one to know when Yen wrote to him about borrowing his vineyard before starting to order him around for flower arrangements and decorations. Some things never change, he reckons.

In front of witchers and humans and a princess who is both, vows are exchanged between the two sorceresses who found family in each other. Yen’s words are particularly sweet—even Geralt has never seen such a soft side to her. When Ciri ties the ribbon around their hands, Jaskier’s hand also finds Geralt’s.

The sun has come down, and May Day is only hours away. The bonfire burns bright, making the daisy on Jaskier’s ear look golden. Geralt can’t help his doting. He adjusts the flower when it slips, and kisses the grey hair at Jaskier’s temple. Somewhere not far away, Lambert whistles and that earns him a nudge in the ribs from Eskel.

“Ah-oh, it’s your proposing face.” Jaskier takes one look at Geralt and says.

“I do not have a proposing face.”

“You look sappy and content and utterly in love. That’s your proposing face.”

“Does it matter? You never say yes.” Geralt feels his lips purse in a way that is definitely not pouting. “Perhaps I shouldn’t dance with you tonight, so I won’t feel utterly in love and want to propose.”

Jaskier glares at him before realizing the severity of that threat—the night is too fine not to dance. He softens immediately to coax Geralt into their first dance, and when it doesn’t work, the coaxing turns into gentle apologies and promises to never tease. It’s a lie that Geralt is more than willing to allow.

The music box spins on magic, singing a slow tune. Yen and Triss have settled into an intimate embrace not far away with Yennefer whispering something into Triss’s ear and making her laugh.

Jaskier rests his chin on Geralt’s shoulder, undoubtedly watching the happy couple.

“I am sorry, you know.”

All teasing is gone from Jaskier’s voice, leaving only quiet sincerity.

Geralt frowns. “What for?”

“For making you wait.” Jaskier’s feet have stopped following the music, and Geralt stops with him but keeps his arms around Jaskier’s waist. “I don’t know what is wrong with me. If only I could just…I don’t know, get over myself and stop being so weird. I’m sorry, for taking so long.” He worries his lips, looking so guilty it breaks Geralt’s heart. “And that I need more time still.”

“Jaskier…”

Geralt breathes the name that contains his universe. How does explain just how wrong that statement is? How can he describe the immense happiness Jaskier brings him every day just by staying by his side?

He’d need to break into songs. Alas, he’s the witcher, not the bard. But Jaskier feeling inadequate is not right. It simply won’t do.

“Don’t apologize. I don’t know how to take it,” Geralt says, realizing the simplicity of it all. There is a solution after all, right on the tip of his tongue. “That’s it then. I won’t ask again.”

The bonfire crackles with the pause in the music, and Jaskier stares.

“You won’t?”

“Mm-hmm. I will not ask you to marry me again.”

“Oh.” A flash of hurt appears in Jaskier’s eyes. “Is this because I… Please, Geralt, I just need a little more time. Does that mean you don’t want—”

“No. Of course not.” Geralt interrupts, seeing more explanation is needed. “It’s not because I don’t want you anymore.”

“Then why—”

“Because you are enough. Just you.” He swallows the lump of guilt in his throat, composing himself before continuing. “Because you don’t need to force yourself into anything for my sake. Jaskier, don’t you see? It’s you. It will always be you. It won’t change, even if you turn me down every day for the rest of our lives.”

Jaskier looks at him skeptically. “I won’t be so cruel to you.”

“It wouldn’t be.” Geralt chuckles. “Look, you can ask me to never speak of marriage again, or…walk away from me right this moment and never look back, it will still be you. Just you.”

“You’d be lonely,” Jaskier says, “if I left.”

There was a time when Geralt would have denied it, but now, he just agrees with a smile. “Incredibly.”

They settle into a comfortable silence after that. The conversation has attracted a few looks from the brides. Yen is watching Geralt from over Jaskier’s shoulder quizzically.

“How about this?” Jaskier asks when the moon is high and the fire dies down. Exhaustion makes him lean against Geralt’s arm with all his weight. Between the yawns, Jaskier blinks at Geralt. “I don’t know when I will be ready, and you have been more than patient. But when I am…”

“You don’t need to rush.” Geralt pats Jaskier’s hand reassuringly.

Jaskier’s smile, even tired, is more beautiful than the stars. “Hush, you. You promised me your heart, now trust me to know mine?” When Geralt doesn’t argue, he continues. “When I am ready, truly ready, you will know. Because I will be the one asking you.”

Geralt pictures that day and all the dramatic flair Jaskier will certainly bring, and finds himself unable to refuse.

“Hmm.”

“Alright?”

“It’s alright.” Geralt closes his eyes and lets the scent of daisy and wood ash calm him. “It’s you. Of course, it’s alright.”

Triss is the one to check on them when the celebration ends. She is, once again, disappointed in the fact that Jaskier has not accepted Geralt’s hand—her bet with Lambert has gone on for too long and she is eager to win.

Jaskier has to call for Yennefer to stop her wife from prying, but the look on his face when looking at the married couple is only of longing and hope.

☆ 

The day is near, Geralt can sense it.

Seasons have passed since his entire family gathered at the wedding. When Jaskier offhandedly mentions inviting them all for a quick catch-up, there is an underlying nervousness in his tone.

Toussaint is a nice place for their retirement. He hasn’t seen Jaskier on edge for a long time.

So Geralt agrees with the same nonchalance Jaskier tries to put on his face, and they begin writing letters to all corners of the continent. The wait makes Jaskier fidgety, unable to sit still for long and often disappearing from their home for whole afternoons.

Sometimes, he watches Geralt with his scheming grin when he thinks Geralt isn’t looking.

One day, Geralt catches Jaskier on the outskirt of town right outside of a ring shop, and carefully walks away before being seen, but the rabbiting of his heart won’t calm for quite some time.

Eskel is the last one to arrive. When he does, Ciri is exchanging stories with her mothers and bullying Lambert as usual. Geralt hugs his brother who has a knowing glint in his eyes. “Congratulation in advance, wolf.”

Geralt only hums, making sure Jaskier isn’t around to hear.

The evening approaches, and nervousness rolls off from Jaskier in waves when he pats the small box in his pocket. Geralt tries to reassure him without giving the game away, but it’s difficult not to reveal his excitement. They’ve each waited decades for this. There is no doubt Jaskier is fussing over every little detail in his head.

So Geralt takes pity on him and mentions leaving the happy crowd, citing the need to let Roach stretch her legs before declaring the precise time he will return. The weather is fine enough for a late-night stroll to be believable. Jaskier lets out a long exhale when Geralt leaves him with a kiss.

Under the stars, Geralt takes his time with the walk, relishing the last hour before their lives change forever. Roach must sense his good mood too with how affectionate she is. He thanks her and feeds her plenty of treats.

When he returns home, their small garden is decorated with paper lanterns of all different sizes and shapes. Ciri is holding a small one that is painted in a soft rose color. The pink glow flickers in the night breeze, illuminating her white dress and pale hair as well as the carnations Jaskier just planted earlier this year.

Geralt’s brothers are nursing their drinks, and both Yen and Triss are watching Ciri with so much pride on their faces. It must be the same pride Geralt feels when he looks at her too, all grown-up and confident.

Jaskier is nowhere to be seen.

“Geralt!” Ciri puts up the last lantern and runs towards him. He catches her with one arm. “I’m happy for you. You know I am, but Jaskier is driving us crazy.”

“Be sympathetic, Cirilla.”

“Put us all out of our misery and say yes, will you?” She breaks the hug and gestures to their house, where Jaskier’s anxious heart thrums like a hummingbird within. “It’s about time.”

Geralt gives one last look to his family before stepping into his home. He faintly hears Triss asking Lambert to pay up.

The nerves finally catch up to him, but Jaskier is waiting for him. He is brave when Jaskier waits for him.

Their home is the same, apart from the bundles of fresh lilies decorating every surface, all from their garden. The door shuts behind Geralt, and he is greeted with blue eyes already brimming with tears.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey.”

Jaskier breaks into a timid smile. “Surprise.”

Geralt is breathless when Jaskier takes his hands and slowly kneels before him. No matter how many times he’s pictured this moment, his imagination could never match the flowing love in Jaskier’s eyes when he looks up at Geralt.

“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier starts, voice breaking. “My muse, my hero, my best friend. Will you—will…”

Tears cut off Jaskier’s speech, his hands trembling in Geralt’s, and Geralt finds himself on the floor too. A poet is overwhelmed by the depth of his emotions, and a witcher can only help by wiping those tears away.

It looks like Jaskier’s worst stage fright yet.

“It’s okay,” Geralt says.

“No, it’s not. Ugh, why is this so hard? You’ve done it a million times.”

Geralt would take offense if Jaskier isn’t looking so endearing despite the redness of his eyes.

“I just wanted you to have the perfect moment, and now I’ve ruined it.” Jaskier chuckles self-deprecatingly before fumbling with his pocket for the ring. “The most perfect. You have no idea how long I’ve been planning for this day.”

Geralt almost feels giddy. Of course he’s noticed all the sleepless nights when Jaskier tossed and turned next to him. He could practically hear the bard’s loud thinking for months. For now, he hides that knowledge.

“It’s perfect already,” Geralt answers the unasked question. “And yes, Jaskier, I will—”

“No. No, I’ve not asked. You deserve the whole package,” Jaskier sniffs, his voice small. “You deserve the world.”

“I have it right here.”

Jaskier looks like he might cry again, so Geralt soothes him with gentle words until he’s composed himself enough to begin again. Every word is full of love and appreciation, and Geralt is with him the entire way, prompting him to go on when his breath shudders and lips tremble.

In the end, both the question and the answer are light as a feature.

After, they stay on the floor for too long, letting reality sink in. There are chatters outside the door, where their family is undoubtedly eavesdropping but pretending otherwise.

They re-join the small party in the garden. Jaskier’s eyes are puffy under the warm glow of the lanterns, and his touch lingers around Geralt’s ring finger, tracing the simple silver band as if he cannot believe it’s really there.

“I don’t know how you can wait for so many years,” Jaskier whispers when no one pays attention to them. “You are too good to me.”

“It’s easy, really,” Geralt answers. “You waited for twenty years first.”

“Those were the best years of my life. At the time, at least.”

“And these were mine.”

The crow’s feet at the corners of Jaskier’s eyes bloom more beautifully than the carnations when he smiles. “I have a feeling,” he says, “that the best is yet to come.”

“Yeah? I think so too,” Geralt agrees when he breaks away. “We have all the time in the world.”

They kiss among the roses they planted with their hands, and they kiss amongst their family.

They let the future begin.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #established relationship #fluff #my sappiest work yet

[teaspoonnebula]

The Final Problem Part 1 - Thoughts

Whoof. Here we go.

Of these the first and second were extremely condensed, while the last is, as I shall now show, an absolute perversion of the facts.

Precisely what perversions of the facts James Moriarty wrote in his letters is such delightful fanfic fodder. I suppose I also need to mention that this point that yes, Professor James Moriarty's brother is called Colonel James Moriarty. Did they just have weird parents? Is Jame-Moriarty a compound surname? You decide.

He still came to me from time to time when he desired a companion in his investigation, but these occasions grew more and more seldom, until I find that in the year 1890 there were only three cases of which I retain any record.

This is so heartbreaking. Another one where as a reader you have to fill in the gaps. Is it a classic case of Watson finding himself prioritizing his romantic relationship with a clear obligation over his more nebulous platonic one? Is Holmes just increasingly unsure whether Watson wants him around and doesn't feel able to just make social calls? Was Holmes ramping up the drug use in a way that was driving them apart? Did he know he was interacting with increasingly dangerous people and was trying to keep Watson safe?

"Is Mrs Watson in?" "She is away upon a visit." "Indeed! You are alone?" "Quite." "Then it makes it the easier for me to propose that you should come away with me for a week to the Continent."

Mrs Watson is NEVER in, is she? :D

I know lots of folks like to imagine she either doesn't exist, or this is a sign that their marriage has broken down. I kind of like to think she's just really independent. If John gets to swan off on adventures for great stretches of time, so does she.

He saw the question in my eyes, and, putting his finger-tips together and his elbows upon his knees,

Gotta engage in some Weird Detective Sitting, naturally.

Between ourselves, the recent cases in which I have been of assistance to the royal family of Scandinavia, and to the French republic, have left me in such a position that I could continue to live in the quiet fashion which is most congenial to me, and to concentrate my attention upon my chemical researches.

I'd completely forgotten these lines. It's so interesting that Holmes is contemplating retiring at this point - he's still so young, but apparently he's not so starved for stimulation as he used to be. A quiet life is starting to appeal.

On the strength of it he won the Mathematical Chair at one of our smaller universities, and had, to all appearance, a most brilliant career before him.

Ah, the days when you could write a treatise age 21, immediately get given a chair in Mathematics, and basically stay in the job for life while also running your giant criminal empire.

Truly the golden age of academia.

"'You have less frontal development that I should have expected,' said he, at last.

SICK PHRENOLOGY BURN, PROF

"'You crossed my path on the 4th of January,' said he. 'On the 23d you incommoded me; by the middle of February I was seriously inconvenienced by you; at the end of March I was absolutely hampered in my plans; and now, at the close of April, I find myself placed in such a position through your continual persecution that I am in positive danger of losing my liberty. The situation is becoming an impossible one.'

That's right - Holmes and Moriarty haven't knowingly been enemies for years. It's been a four month whirlwind nemesis-ship. I'm saying it as a joke but I think there's something so tragic when you juxtapose it with the distancing with Watson.

Although also consider that it's Watson who he turns to - when his knuckles are bleeding and multiple attempts are made on his life and he needs to get away, Watson is who he wants and needs and hopes for.

I took a cab after that and reached my brother's rooms in Pall Mall, where I spent the day.

UGGGHHH I want to know more about what happened here and what Mycroft had to say about the whole situation. We get a few clues later about it.

Welp. Until tomorrow, then...

#letters from watson #the final problem