#like they were practically newly weds by the time they were killed

[allfearstofallto]

Day of the Wedding

Yandere! Genshin Men x Fem! Reader

Ft: Diluc, Childe, Scaramouche

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere Themes, Forced(?) Alcohol Consumption

AN: I checked today and I have 900 followers??? That's actually insane!!! This is what I've got to offer I guess!!

Diluc

Who wouldn't cry tears of joy when marrying the most desired bachelor of Mondstadt? That's what people thought when they saw you dressed from head to toe in pure white, the only thing throwing your princess attire off being your smeared makeup. Your eyes, so red and puffy, had mascara running down your cheeks. Black tears staining your face.

Despite the way you looked, you still forced a smile. It was a small wedding, containing only those close to the both of you, but your family couldn't help, but wonder why you chose to stay close under your newly wed husband, almost seeming afraid to talk to them.

When the vows were spoken, you could barely get the words out. Your voice shaking through sobs as your tears fell upon the page of written notes, eventually making the ink leak and becoming ineligible. You still spoke your I Do’s, followed by him lifting your veil and kissing you right upon your lips. His hand snaked around your waist and the other held your head in place. But you, you stood there stiffly, like kissing him had made you turn into stone.

Diluc pulled away with a smile, his mouth stained with a slight tint of your lipstick. He walked you back down the aisle, with the crowd throwing rice and cheering. On the happiest day of your life where you were supposed to be looking forward ahead of you, you just kept looking back, hoping that your family could see the distress in your eyes, though they never did.

Childe

So many of Childe's siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles came to the wedding, but not a single one of your family members joined you.

“She's not close to her family,” he'd say, holding on to your waist with a threatening hand. That was a lie. You loved your family. You saw them often, at least, you did before the day you abruptly decided to move to Snezhnaya without a word to them. You hadn't seen them since and they didn't know where to send letters, you were essentially a ghost of their past. Your memory haunted them daily as they missed you dearly and you missed them too.

The wedding lasted days and days. A surprise to even you, but apparently that's tradition. Games and singing. There was dancing happening for what felt like hours. And drinking. So so so much drinking. With a feast that spanned almost an entire table, there was an abundance of alcohol to match.

You could hardly keep up with the festivities. In an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people being wed to a man you thought you knew. Childe wouldn't let you show your discomfort on your face, meeting your lips with a glass of whatever he was drinking, you'd gulp down even more and fall into that drunken dizziness. When the wedding ended, you don't exactly remember. It all became a blur near the end. But you remember waking up to Childe laying you down in bed, placing a kiss on your forehead and whispering words of praise to you that would've been comforting, had it not been for who he was.

Scaramouche

He always adored the way you looked in kimono. Today was no different. The pure white silk draped over your body was by far the nicest one he'd gifted you. Dolled up in traditional make-up, you felt so stiff with your now decadent appearance.

You'd feel less scared if he wasn't still wearing that same glare. That same look of anger and disappointment. Even though it was just the two of you in the room, you him and the officiant who would wed the two of you, he still glared at the man like one mistake would kill him. And it probably would.

Your hand shook as you picked up what looked to be the tea pot, something he made you practice time and time again to prepare just for today. Getting it wrong today would mean facing his wrath later, yet you still shook while pouring it into the small bowl. You watched with a pounding heart as you managed to spill some, dripping onto the floor and sinking between the wood.

Meeting his gaze and preparing for a scolding, you instead saw him lightly chuckle. Seldom did he smile and even more rare than that, did he actually laugh. The sight was even scarier than his usual glares, somehow his joy made him seem even more menacing.

“I expected this much from you,” he whispered into the silence. His nimble fingers gripped the rim of the bowl and he brought it to your lips, making you take a sip of the warm alcohol. It was bitter and disgusting, just as you'd remembered. When you swallowed your sip, he took one right after you, finishing off what was left in the dish, then sitting it to the side again.

Your names were signed onto a piece of parchment, a wedding document written in traditional Inazuma script. You couldn't read a word of it, but there was no worse contract than the one that said you'd be his lawfully wedded wife.

Scaramouche held your hand as the two of you walked out of the shrine, his fingers cold and his grip tight. It was such a beautiful day out. That was all you could think about as you were walked back to his carriage which would take you to his home. Your last day as a truly free woman, you were glad it was beautiful.

[milky-aeons]

𝐅𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and ranpo edogawa; what their honeymoon would be like.

warnings: marriage, female reader, wife reader, sexual content for dazai, kunikida and chuuya, mentions of death, bondage, swearing, mentions of vomiting, alcohol intake, mdni, w.c 4.2k

𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

To honeymoon after one's wedding was not as practiced in Japan as it was the western world — however, Dazai, of course, jumped at any opportunity to slack off from work. A week away from the city with his newly married wife sounded right up the agent's alley.

And when Dazai Osamu was given an inch, he always strove to take a mile.

"Kunikida-kun is going to kill you when we get back, Dazai." You scolded your husband sitting at your side. But when you turned to him, attempting to pin him down with a look, you just couldn't help the sides of your lips curling into a smile. "Like — actually kill you, this time."

Dazai rolled his head, humming a musical sound. "To have my life ended under the cold, bony hands of an Idealist. How could you even speak those words, my love?"

"Only you would find a way to convince the President that a week away in Okinawa would be good for two of his agents. Paid all inclusively, too. What did you call it?" You quirked an eyebrow. "Sand resistance and underwater training?"

The briny sea air teased at his loose shirt and wild, unkempt curls, making him look like a divinity — a mythical creature of the ocean. Both of you sat side by side on the coast's cool sands; sipping from a bottle of sake, watching the sunset bleed the sky into twilight. After spending the day full of adventurous activities; wandering nature trails, stopping for a late-afternoon lunch under the canopy of marine trees, only to take each other by the hand and venture through the Churaumi aquarium's glass blue halls — you both had been content to cuddle up and watch the stars, that evening. Listening to the lull of the sea, talking about everything and nothing at all.

Dazai cocked his head in that funny little way he always did. "Is that not what we're doing?"

"Of course," You agreed, and then leaned over to poke the tip of his nose. His surprised little blink almost had your heart melting into a puddle. "And tomorrow, I expect you up bright and early, because we have an extra strenuous day of whale watching to attend."

Dazai leaned in, as if you were both sharing a secret, and touched his warm forehead against yours. It made your pulse flutter; the shade of his eyes, so complex when he was this close. They softened into something a lot more sultry. "Hmm? Whale watching? I was under the impression our schedule was already taken up tomorrow, though."

"Oh?" You smiled, your breath mingling. "Do divulge me, Osamu."

That was when he went for you. Pouncing with the agility of a leopard, a beast, until he had pulled you against his lean body and you were both rolling around in the sand — shrieking and chuckling.

"I am to accompany my beautiful princess bride on a mission that could mean life or death! World dominion or forever peace! The very nature of things hangs in the balance and I have the key to it, right in my very hands!"

"Osamu—you're—!" You chortled. "Stop! You'll get sand in my ears!"

He brought your rolling bodies to a halt with you laying flush against him. There was mirth dancing in his eyes, his face — looking at you like he was a teenager in love for the very first time. He pouted playfully.

"You don't want to hear my master plan to save the world?"

"You just don't want to go whale watching."

"Hmm~" He purred, and you felt those long fingers begin to trail up your thighs — so sensitive, almost completely bare to him underneath the cotton beach skirt you wore. They drew languid, mind-numbing circles that traced a picture of fire from your thighs, the small back, your thighs again. You found yourself arching back instinctively into them.

Dazai craned his neck up then — just so he could trail his lips against the shell of your ear and whisper, "Because I am much more inclined to hear someone else moan for me all day, instead."

The last of his words were accompanied with his palms coming down on your ass, squeezing possessively — the shock of it lurching you forward a little. You gasped, and he revelled in it. You could see it in the way his tawny eyes darkened into a promising mahogany. Whenever Dazai looked at you like that, it eddied any and all coherent thoughts from your mind. Just like the first time you met him, the second, the millionth, you'd never tire from marvelling in your husband's beauty. Both on his gorgeous face and inside his well-protected soul.

You just had to peel back each and every layer he had learned to build up until you coaxed it out. But you would wait — for him, you would wait a lifetime.

Chuckling a heady sound, you leaned down, ghosting your lips over his parted ones. When he shifted up to try and connect your mouths together — you were mean. You pulled just out of his reach, grinning a wicked, vixen-like smile.

"All day?" You challenged. "But—oh—!"

A yelp tore from your throat when Dazai startled you by surging foreword and rolling until you were beneath him; trapped underneath his long, caging arms. His bangs tickled your face when he pitched forward to arrest you in his intense stare. Holding so much weight, so much promise, that it sent a thousand sparks of pleasure racing from the crown of your head right to the tips of your toes.

"Every day, my beautiful wife."

You didn't think either of you could wait until then.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 . . .

After the rather formal affair that was you and Kunikida Doppo's wedding; a honeymoon was far removed from your mind. So you were surprised, when your new husband approached you one morning, two long-distance train tickets held firmly in his grip. The ledgers are already taken care of, he had assured you when protests rose on your tongue, you needn't worry. There is enough staff to cover our absence.

There was something — something fiercely intense in his eyes when he had said those words, too. Of course, your husband Kunikida Doppo was a fierce man by nature; it was one of the many things you had learned to love about him. But then, you had been unable to place the heat in his eyes, the way his body strained towards you — as if holding some monstrous part of himself back.

You had been unable to place it — that was, until now.

His naked body stalked around the foot of the bed — soft, buttery light throwing all of his defined muscles into focus. The curtains of this private suite were decorated with cotton and cashmere, letting as much natural light into the room as possible while still offering you two some privacy. In fact, one of the drapes from your bathroom window were missing — but that was because it had been wound tightly around your wrists, pinning you to the headboard.

"One hundred and forty-five." Kunikida spoke suddenly.

Through your lust addled mind, you tried to parse his words. Your brows came down over confused eyes. "W-What?"

He stopped, snapping his Ideal book closed in one hand. And when he turned towards you — God, your tongue pasted to the roof of your mouth. He was marvellous. He was breath-taking — his blond hair let loose around his shoulders, the length of him standing stiff and erect for you to see.

"One hundred and forty-five," He repeated. The mattress dipped when he leaned one knee against it, then the other. "That is the amount of days which have passed since I had the first indecent thought about you."

He might as well already be touching you — the way those words instructed a shiver to race down your bare skin. Kunikida pitched forward so he was on all fours now — and with savouring slowness, he began to crawl towards you.

"O-Oh?" Was the only coherent thing you could get out. Your eyes darted all over him, you tried to rub your thighs together to garner some type of friction since he was so adamant to tease you. Kunikida's quick-silver eyes noticed the movement, however, and reached a large hand out. He flattened it on the bare skin of your thigh; a silent command for you to be still.

Frustrated, you levelled a heated glare at him, huffing, "This is no way to treat your new wife."

"Believe me," Kunikida's tone was controlled — always controlled, but you delighted in the fact that his lips twitched into a smile. "I have every intention of treating my wife very well, indeed."

Your breasts strained taut when he came to settle himself just over you and leaned up — bracketing your hips with those strong thighs. Ever since he had gotten your clothes off; Kunikida Doppo could not stop himself from just looking at you. An extremely controlling part of him was overcome with the mind-consuming urge to lock you up and keep you all for himself. But he knew he could not do that. So here he would revel, every moment he could, in you flushed and bare beneath him. Begging him with your eyes to touch you, to relieve that ache only he had caused.

Shit, Kunikida Doppo thought when he looked down at you, he'd pay only the finest artist to paint you like this. But then he'd have to rip their damn hand off.

He reached a hand out to trail it against your twitching tummy muscles. The hand which brandished that newly crafted gold band.

"It was exactly 11:48am, Tuesday the 7th," Kunikida murmured in a deep, throaty voice. His eyes glazed over as he trailed his fingers all over you — from your naval to your breastbone to letting them dance across the planes of your face. "When you walked into the main office with a large stack of reports a certain someone has been slackin' on. You bent over — in that tight little skirt you always wear," He inhaled, dragging your bottom lip gently with his thumb. "And I was overcome."

"O-Overcome?" You echoed. If he kept this up, you were very certain your new husband would make your heart burst out of your chest. You burned, you needed him like your air, like the blood roaring in your ears.

Kunikida leaned in close enough until he was all you could see. He dropped his voice, and the words rumbled out of his chest.

"Overcome with the need to bend you against the table and fuck you, right then and there."

A small whimper climbed up your throat. Like a butterfly, caught and pinned against a board, you fluttered restlessly beneath him. Kunikida placed the softest kisses against your skin; but you could feel the tension that tremored underneath his marble skin. He was taking his time. He was adamant to keep you here for as long as possible just to savour you, over and over again.

And you were more than willing to oblige.

"And now," You whispered, hot and needy, against him. "You have me right where you want me, Kunikida."

Your husband groaned and began to roll his hips against you — absolutely unable to help himself when you said those words. Gasping, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you were barely lucid enough to hear him growl out the words;

"And you'll always have me at your mercy, darling."

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 . . .

You and Atsushi had decided to get married under the gentle blossoms of springtime, but it had always been your dream to escape on a winter's honeymoon. Of course, when you broached the topic with him a couple of weeks before the ceremony, Atsushi took some time to gradually warm to the idea. He had never been out of the country, after all, and the thought of boarding a metal tube that soared thousands of feet in the air definitely did not appeal to his feline side.

"It's... so it doesn't stop off, somewhere?" He had asked you with those adorable wide eyes. "What if I need to pee?"

His country naivety was all too amusing to you — a warm grin brightened your face, and to stifle the chuckle, you buried into his silver hair, instead.

"There are toilets on the plane. And refreshments, and seats." You replied to him. "Besides, there'd be nowhere for us to stop off. We'd have to cross over the ocean, after all."

"T-The ocean?!"

The Harbin Ice and Snow festival held its open ceremony a few months after you and Atsushi's marriage, but once you got there, you knew it had been well worth the wait. The city was crafted with ice structures and snowy castles, illuminated by floodlights that coloured them all different shades. Both bundled in layers, you and your husband walked side-by-side through them, warming the other's hand. Atsushi bought you a delicious hot chocolate to share, and never missed the chance to kiss the cream off of your face.

"I have no idea how you're not wearing gloves," You said to him one evening as you strolled around the resort. From here, the blanketed mountains stood stark against the night sky, littered with evergreen trees. Each step you took crunched the snow beneath you.

"Ah," Atsushi piqued. He then lifted his hands to show them to you, and when you inspected them closer; you noticed that he had coated them in a thick layer of tiger fur. "Ta-dah!"

The funny sight caught you so off guard that you doubled over giggling. "What a convenient talent. I wish I could do that when I get cold!"

"You know I would if I could," He said, the warm sincerity of it coming to hug around you like your very own blanket. "But there's something that I can do."

"Oh?" You leaned up to regard your new husband — only to realise that he was no longer by your side. Instead, he had taken a few strides ahead, leaning forward onto all fours in that familiar position he took before an ability activation. Whoosh, the snow whipped up to bite your cheeks, the entire landscape was drowned out in the supernatural blue light as he shifted from man to beast.

The bands of light exploded to leave him in their remnants — only bigger, furrier, and so much more deadly. Not an ounce of fear touched your body, however — because even though standing in his place was a monstrous weretiger that prowled towards you; those were still Atsushi's eyes. The tender bump he gave you with his head still belonged to the person who had Atsushi's soul — your Atsushi.

You carded your fingers lovingly through his coat. "Hello, there." You murmured, taking his big head in your hands and scratching behind his ears. "What brings you here, Mr. Weretiger?"

Atsushi's honey-gold eyes held yours for a moment. Then, he made a swishing movement with his head — an indication for you to follow. You knitted your eyebrows, initially confused at what he wanted when he couldn't use human speech — but when he lay down in the snow and made his back easier for you to reach, you suddenly realised.

"Oh, okay." You hummed, manoeuvring to the side of his massive body and hiking your leg up. Shifting, you found a comfortable sitting position on his back. But not before you cuddled into his soft fur a little. "You are so warm, no wonder you don't need gloves."

His great big lungs reverberated when he spoke something you couldn't understand. Atsushi padded the snow — an indication that he was going to move, letting you know to hold on tight — before straightening up to his full height.

Then, he was running.

Galloping through the snow scape like you weighed absolutely nothing at all — the wind ripping through your hair, smattering your cheeks in little flecks of snowflakes. You gripped on tight to his coat, feeling the wild rush of adrenaline spike in your blood. His great big paws ate up the distance with agility, with grace. As easy and breathing for him in this form. You held on tight to your husband's body when he hopped from rock to rock, from tree to tree, taking you through your very own winter wonderland on a night you'd never forget.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

After the unholy shitshow — as your husband eloquently puts it — that was your wedding reception, it was safe to assume that Chuuya Nakahara was adamant to get out of the country in order to spend a few days alone with you. Somewhere extremely far away. And what better place was there, than the classy city of romance and wine?

He had been cunning in the preparations, refusing to reveal anything until it was the evening you scheduled to fly out on one of the Port Mafia's private air jets. Sure; the plane had been in regular use to smuggle large shipments of drugs across the Japanese border, but Chuuya had gone to touching lengths in order to make it special for you.

The inside was completely cleaned out and lavished with first-class opulence. When you stood in the hanger, suitcase in tow, you couldn't believe how beautiful he had made it look. And when he handed you a flute of fizzing champagne before boarding, he pulled you in by the waist; kissed you on the cheek, and said, are ya ready to see the real Eiffel Tower, sweetheart?

The sheer beauty of Paris was all you needed to make up for the long-haul flight over. Each building towered above you; beige stonework, panelled windows, the smell of fresh baked goods and coffee in the air. Chuuya walked with his hand on your back through the winding cobblestone walkways. He did not complain once when you spent hours busying around the shopping district La Vallée, gushing at all the quaint boutiques and bakeries. He bought as many pastries as your heart so desired. And on your last night, he told you to wear your finest dress, and took you on a boat ride around the city.

"This mustn't have been good for your bank account," You pouted, leaning over the side of the boat to admire the glossy river water. "Even for you."

Chuuya popped a piece of steak into his mouth. One eyebrow quirked. "I thought I told ya never to worry about money when you're with me, doll. Even more so now that you're my wife."

My wife, you closed your eyes, savouring the sound of it wearing his voice like the meal in front of you. It still sounded so foreign — a little out of place, when you had just gotten used to being to as the General's fiancée. When you opened your eyes, you allowed yourself a few seconds to marvel at the man who worked to make all your desires come true — and not because he had to, but because he wanted to, he loved to.

Chuuya's blue eyes twinkled underneath the fairy lights that hung from the boat's canopy. "What?"

You beckoned to all the other empty seats around you. "How did you manage to rent an entire boat for just the two of us, though?"

At that, your husband's lips lifted into a wide, vulpine smile. The type that made delicious heat lick down your spine.

"Do ya object to being on this big boat all alone with me, sweetheart?"

The heat cascading down your spine spread its fingers — until it was all over you, reaching the tips of your cheeks, the skin of your chest left exposed by the open dress. You swallowed, not breaking the eye contact, and placed your fork down with very precise movements.

You purposefully flicked your hair behind your shoulder — exposing your collarbone, the long column of your neck.

"Quite the contrary, my beautiful husband. In fact, I think the rocking could make riding you senseless feel extra good, if that was even possible."

There was a heartbeat where Chuuya didn't move. And then, the table was knocked to one side, there was a harsh clatter of metal and plates and his chair scraping against the deck when he surged for you.

You shrieked in delight when you felt his hands on your hips — hoisting you swiftly from the terrace chair and into his arms. Guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, you were held securely against him, looping your arms around his neck as he made quick work of the ships decking and down the stairs into your private bedroom.

When you both resurfaced onto the deck for some fresh air, you were blissfully unaware that the sun had risen and it had already become morning — but the crewmates definitely were.

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 (𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃) 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐏𝐎 . . .

When your newly-wed husband Ranpo Edogawa pitched the idea of a honeymoon in Tokyo; initially, you were quite sceptical. Tokyo was a city packed with people and, God forbid; a very advanced transport system. Whatever could your particular partner want in the bustling capital of your country?

Roller-coaster rides and donuts and mickey mouse ears, apparently.

He was such a child at heart, you thought fondly as you watched him flutter around the food stalls at Tokyo's Disneyland Resort, pointing at all the colourful sweets he wanted to try. You suppose Ranpo never really had the opportunity to have a childhood; being hunted for his mind and hopping from job to job just to survive before he met the President. And you cherished that part of him. Your heart grew twice its size when he returned to you, a chest-full of of packaged goods and two sticks of candyfloss.

"According to my Deductions," Your husband boasted, thrusting the candy floss out to you. "Poo's Honey Hunt is the next attraction which will have the least amount of waiting time."

You took your candyfloss carefully from him. "Of course. Although do you think it's a good idea to go riding when you have a stomach full of sweets, Ranpo?"

He leaned back and guffawed. "Pwah! Nothing is impossible for the World's Greatest Detective!"

It turned out that spinning in a plastic honey pot one too many times was a little too much for the World's Greatest Detective, after all. You rubbed soothing circles against your husband's back and held his cape out of the way as he upheaved into a colourful trashcan the moment he stepped off of the ride. You hushed anything he tried to say, instead guiding him to sit with you by the riverside — watching the fairy tale boats float on by until the nausea subsided.

A bottle of water and a handful of pastries later; Ranpo Edogawa was right back on his feet again, dragging you by the hand to the next attraction with excited, skipping steps.

And when the sun dipped low behind the bright pink castle that was a landmark to the grounds and the sky darkened into twilight, your forever partner guided you across a beautiful bridge closed off to the public for the rest of the evening. Of course, you scolded him with each step, telling him that this would get you both in a world of trouble. Only for him to turn around and wink, assuring, the stewards only patrol this area of the park every quarter of an hour. We have at least twenty minutes until anybody will be near this area again.

"Ranpo, darling, I love you," You said to him, stepping over the foliage and onto the bridge painted with bright gold — mimicking those found in story books. "But if we get fined for this, I am taking away all of your sweet stash for at least a month."

He twirled around to face you when you came to a stop in the centre of the bridge; his hands folded behind his back. His tongue stuck out. "Boo. You wouldn't be able to figure out the code."

"You doubt the mind of a wife who is angry." You cooed, but were completely unable to help the smile that tickled your lips. You were like two schoolkids; sneaking around in a no-trespass area trying not to get caught. Although you didn't understand the entire reason as to why you were stalking around a closed area of the park late at night.

You decided to question him, tilting your head. "Remind me, why is it that we're slinking around Tinkerbell's Garden and running the risk of getting caught, again?"

Your question was left hanging when Ranpo decided to keep his lips shut. Instead, he lifted three fingers up in the air. You watched with knitted brows as he brought down one — leaving two left. Then, brought down the other. And just as he let the final finger close into his fist, there was a shrill whistle, a tail of sparks flying through the night—

BOOM!

The most brilliant firework exploded in the sky.

You gasped, turning to look above the canopy that hid you both. Boom, there was another — a brilliant explosion of red and yellow. Boom, boom, two at the same time. You were arrested in place, marvelling at the light show that sent a thousand sparkles reflecting in your eyes.

Warmth. Skin. Ranpo's hand coming to intertwine with yours. His soft lips ghosting your temple, whispering the words so sweet;

"They're almost just as beautiful as you, my wonderful wife."

ღ . . . the bsd men ON THEIR WEDDING DAY

✎ . . . requested by wonderful nonnie!

WRITING REQUESTS

[00angelyoon]

- ☆ angel of the night

𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘇𝘆- 𝗷𝗶𝗺𝗶𝗻

“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

“너를 품은 달”

“𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁.”

☆ “𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼.”

☆ featuring: husband jeonghan x afab reader.

☆ tags: est. relationship, newly weds, smut and fluff.

☆ notes: reader is whipped for jeonghan but i mean who wouldn’t be ?this my first smut ever.

☆ warnings: petnames (darling, baby, pretty, pretty girl and angel) mean dom!jeonghan sub!reader degradation also slight praise kink multiple orgasms fem receiving! oral fem receiving fingering lingerie swearing teasing fluff towards the end mentions of food at the end, newlywed jeonghan x reader and they’re in london not proof read intentional lowercase porn with barely there plot.

mdni!

you’re jacket was practically useless to the numbing cold but you were so drunk on love you couldn’t feel anything. the smell of cigarettes and fresh coffee suffocating the air. and the talk of others but you knew the only thing you can hear was jeonghan’ charming voice the only thing you could smell was his versace eros cologne the only thing you saw was his angelic features the only thing you craved was his soft bewitching lips only him, only jeonghan.

he was a

𝗔𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

Truly he was, most definitely.

“are you cold darling.” jeonghan whispered to you almost seductively or you were just too unbearably horny for this man that practically anything he did turned you on, “no, not at all.” It wasn’t a lie how could you focus on anything other than yoon jeonghan the man that you miraculously just married.

”you’re lying through your teeth.” He chuckled gently the sound made your heart compresses so tightly it hurts, he shuffled across the bus bench to sit more comfortably “come here.” he pulled you to his chest “you know you can tell me if your uncomfortable your not a burden.” “hope you know that baby.” He cooed “could never be.” He kissed your forehead then moving his head slightly to look at you “ever.” he reinstated.

“you’re bewitching me it has to be illegal.” “has to.” he laughed so gently it was killing you “really i’am?” you hummed in response “wow really.” he reiterated while nodding his head twice “how long till the bus?” He turned his head and looked at the led display of the time of the busses “its says due.” he says calmly you hummed in response and got up.

“finally get to get out of this cold.” he says you only nodded at him because you couldn’t bring yourself to speak you were too overwhelmed by your happiness, you got your prince charming your happy ending. you stepped on the bus you both tapped your cards you sat on top of this double decker bus it was packed you sat in the back of the bus together next to each other your white dress was covered in water in a pitter patter pattern you rested your head on his shoulder and looked outside at the window.

he turned his head to look at you “were here baby.” he sighed, you wondered how could you be pretty if he was right there you barely even remember what happened it felt like a fever dream but the next thing you know is your lying on top of the hotel bed like prey in only a negligee while jeonghan stared at you with hooded eyes full o lust but laced with love and appreciation “my pretty you’ve been ignoring me the whole time on the bus.” “why?” he cooed kissing the side of your neck “don’t think you deserve to touch me.” he sighed

“was planning on rewarding you but you’ve been so bad to me.” he whispered so adorably while sloppily kissing your abdomen like he just had to “see you still are.” he pouted so adorably “jeonghan.” you moaned as he slowly flicked your clothed clit “m’so sorry.” he chuckled “are you really?” he questioned “i’am.” “you know i’am” he then removed the piece of soaked fabric. you groaned at the feeling of the cold air hitting your burning cunt he then removed the negligee and your bra the air hitting your tits. you screamed out in pleasure when he licked the first fat stripe of your wet pussy “you like that huh?” “such a whore for me.” he chuckled “i’m so lucky aren’t I” your breathing echoed throughout the room you arched your back, grabbing the sheets, when he added 2 fingers you were full on riding his face with no shame thats what he did to you, he thought you looked so pretty like this. he was whispering something about he can’t believe your his, only his and how he could die in between your thighs.

he started to twist your hardened nipples

you felt a knot forming in your abdomen it was begging for release “m’gonna cum.” “then do it .” “cum for me.” he then brought up his head to attach your mouth to another wet needy desperate kiss.

that was all it took you hit a mind blowing high he was lapping at your juices full on making out with your cunt it was so hot. he came up to kiss your temple “jeong.” “han.” you sighed all you could think about was him splitting you open with his fat cock, “need you so so bad right now.” you sighed in pleasure “what do you mean pretty girl i’m right here.” he chuckled, the tightening in your chest returning but being over shadowed because of your insatiable lust for jeonghan.

“I want you to fuck me and you know it.” you bit back he sighed “I’d suggest you cut the attitude if you want me to fuck you like a bitch in heat .” whispering in your ear biting your earlobe you don’t know what it is but that traveled straight to your core you bit your lip and whispered back into his ear “please cant take anymore of the teasing.”

he sighed and swiftly removed his clothes climbing on top of you alining his tip with your entrance you were so wet that it was so easy for him to enter. he immediately started thrusting into you your back arched in pleasure your eyes fluttered close overwhelmed with the pleasure, “open.” he groaned so obviously satisfied it made you beam with happiness “your eyes.” he grabbed your chin and made you look at him “so so pretty aren’t you.” he continued “such warm tight cunt, fucking perfect for me.” he groaned in a raspy way it was so sexy, you were so close.

you could understand from his strangled moans and erotic now uncoordinated thrusts, it was so messy but felt so good, he kept hitting the right spot again and again, he was as close as you were. you started rubbing your swollen clit, he took your hand and replaced it with his much more slender leaner ones he was so much better “m’so close jeong.”

“han.” he started to kiss your tits it felt so unbelievably good, “then cum, cum all over my cock.” he pulled the hair out of your face, “to show that your sorry.” he kissed your nose “do it.”

he started thrusting into your g-spot repeatedly. you felt your high coming he thrusted on more time and it happened you had the most mind fucking blowing orgasm ever, you clutched onto his shoulder.

he thrusted and kissed you so sweetly to help you ride your high. he came seconds after “𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.” jeonghan panted “so gorgeous.” he kissed you now more softly now “aren’t you.” he pecked both of your nipples gently “𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁.” he insisted “come on.” he sighed “didn’t forgive you, just for you to ignore me again.” he slowly removed himself from you. little did he know your mind was still hazy and your tongue forget everything except his name.

“jeonghan.” you pant out lazily

“𝗔𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹.”

that was all you were able to spit out. jeonghan stood up and went to the bathroom and brought out a towel and started cleaning you up.

you snuggled into his chest when he slept next to you, he brought his arms around you and pulled you into an embrace “what do you want to eat.” he hummed afterwards “how bout pasta.” you suggest “sounds good.” jeonghan agrees.

his eros cologne still clouding your smell he is always clouding your senses.

“𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼.” you command

“𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇.” he reiterates

that was better than a thousand unsaid “𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”𝘴

[jawabear]

Okay, hear he out! Stephen brings home America to ready, and reader absolutely falls in love with her (mom/dad kinda way) and Stephen adores it and just fluff??

Here's to new beginnings (Dr Stephen Strange x Reader)

Not my GIF (but its cute)

A/N: thank you for the request Anon!! I hope this is okay for you! i think i may have put a little too much angst in it? not like a lot but apparently i cant write a fic without it so... But i hope you enjoy it! Sorry for any mistakes. Stay Safe.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: fem!reader (she/her), slight MoM spoilers, not much else

Summary: Stephen is sure of it, but America is apprehensive

America stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to his home that he shared with his newly wedded wife. “Stephen?” She said quietly as she wrung her hands together nervously.  Stephen tilted his head in concern about her sudden shift in demeanour. “Are…Are you sure this is okay? That…she’ll…like me?”

Stephen fully tuned his body and walked over to her placing his hands on her shoulders causing her to look up at him “I’m sure” he nodded. He said nothing more but the look in his eyes was enough to subside her nerves for the time being. She drew in a breath and stood up straight before nodded at him and following him up the steps to the front door. 

“(Y/N)?” Stephen called out as he walked through the door to the house. “(Y/N)?” He called again after getting no response. But this time he heard the quick pace of footsteps getting closer and closer before she appeared at the top of the stairs with a hopeful expression on her face. 

“Stephen!” She cried out as she practically jumped down the length of the stairs and flew into his open arms. He wrapped them around her tightly, holding her impossibly close to him. “Thank god you’re okay…” she whispered into his chest before lifting her head to kiss him. 

America was surprised to see what she looked like. (Y/N) wasn’t what she imagined. In all fairness, she didn’t know what to expect. She just assumed that it would be someone more similar in looks to Christine. Or maybe some crazy fangirl of his, or some impossibly pretty model that was three feet taller than him. 

But (Y/N) wasn’t any of that. She looked…lovely. She immediately made all the nerves within America disappear simply by showing up in the room. She had a warmth about her that reminded her of the mothers. 

America stiffened when (Y/N) looked over to her and gently pushed Stephen away from her “you must be America” she gave her soft smile and her voice matched it perfectly. (Y/N) took cautious steps towards the girl noticing her unsteady body language. “Stephen told me you’d be coming with him. I’ve been excited to meet you. And to thank you for looking after him. I know how difficult he can be. I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve contemplated killing him a few times. We’ve all been there”

“I’m literally behind you” Stephen huffed as he came and stood next to (Y/N) and wrapped his arm around her waist. They were both now looking at America with fond smiles. America’s heart warmed and she couldn’t help but burst into tears before flinging herself to them both who were taken back by her suddenness. 

“Thank you” she whispered.

“What for?” Stephen asked.

America pulled away and wiped her eyes “I uh…I don’t know really. Sorry I just…” (Y/N) pulled her into her arms and gave her a tight squeeze. She said nothing but said everything at the same time. How was it possible that this woman America had just met made her feel so loved? America didn’t know the answer to that but she didn’t particularly care about the why or the how. She only care that the feeling was there. 

(Y/N) pulled away from her, still smiling and then looked to Stephen “you really are insufferable on missions” 

“Seriously? You’re one to talk”

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that everyone preferred to work with me than you. Even Wong. So take that”

“That traitor” he muttered to himself. 

“You both must be starving!” (Y/N) said suddenly. She looked back to America “how does pizza sound?”

“Uh..perfect. That’s my favourite!”

“Great! I’ll go order”

-

As the credits rolled Stephen looked over to (Y/N) who was carefully wrapping a blanket around a sleeping America laying on her shoulder. “You know” he began in a low voice as to not wake her “you haven’t stopped smiling since we got back”

“sorry…” she whispered sheepishly. 

“It’s nothing to apologise for. It’s nice. I haven’t seen you smile so much since before-“

“Don’t” she cut him off with a sharp whisper “I don’t want you to say it”

“Okay. I won’t” those five years were not good for anyone, (Y/N) included. Five years apart from Stephen was more that torture for her. She had change so much in that time that when they saw each other again on the battle field against Thanos he barely recognised her. She seemed to have a dark cloud thundering above her head. It was the darkest most horrible time in her life and she didn’t want to ever think about it again. 

“I love this” he said with a faint smile. 

“Love what?”

“This” he pointed at the scene before him “seeing you like this, with the kid”

“Yeah?” She smiled.

“Yeah”

“She seems like a good kid” (Y/N) said as she brushed a piece of America’s hair out of her face “you did the right thing Stephen. Bringing her back her. Not just for her, but for you as well”

“Yeah…maybe” he looked away, his cheeks now dusted red. 

“I can only say that I like this” she said “I don’t love it at the moment. But I know what would make me love it”

“What’s that?”

She flipped the blanket up and patted the empty space on the sofa next to her “if I had the man I love to cuddle with”

He let out a weak laugh and shook his head before standing and sitting next to her and pulled the blanket over him. (Y/N) rested her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her. “I knew you always had a soft spot for kids”

“Shut up”

“For the record, I think you would make an amazing dad”

“Only because you would make an amazing mum. I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own…” he paused mid-thought “I can’t do this on my own..”

“You don’t have to. I won’t leave you…neither of us will”

“You can’t know that she won’t”

“America…wasn’t who I was talking about” (Y/N) lifted her head and looked at him with worried eyes. 

“You…” he breathed before looking down at her belly “really?”

(Y/N) nodded “yeah…I was…going to tell you sooner but…you left so I…couldn’t…” she thought about her next words. It was a simple enough question but one that could make or break the situation they found themselves in. “Are…are you happy?”

Those words echoed in his ears in a few different voices. “You know, I’ve been asked that question a few times recently. I lied every time I answered. But now I can truthfully say yes. I am happy. I’m happy with you. I’m happy with our life. I’m happy with…our new beginning”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m absolutely sure”

“So…from now on…it will be the four of us?”

“The four of us” he nodded “I like the sound of that” 

(Y/N) laid her head back on his shoulder and he pressed a kiss to her head as he smiled and sighed in content. (Y/N) smile too.

So did America. She was going to have family again. And she wouldn’t lose this one. She was sure of it.

 17/06/22

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Nectar love | {HakuYuki}

Theme: Floofy angst

Note: I have only written these two once it's practically illegal atp (and technically it was AkaYuki not HakuYuki...)

so i must write them more

×××

It was a mistake. A big one. But what would go wrong? What, when her health was improving so perfectly, when his strength was growing, when...

Then she was better, she was well. She could stand, she could run, she would do whatever she minded. For a moment then, Hakuji wondered. He wondered if, now that he had no use, they would throw him out. Tell him to go find a life for himself, by himself. He was nearing eighteen, after all. 

Yet they welcomed him. They allowed him to stay, they encouraged it. They wanted him there. 

Wanted. It was a strange word. To be wanted. Nobody had ever wanted Hakuji before. He was troublesome, he stole things and helped with nothing. He inflicted fights, was explosive, nobody had ever wanted that. But Koyuki, Keizo. They... wanted him.

So he stayed. He got engaged with her, with Koyuki. He loved her. He truly did, with all his being. He promised to be at her side always, to hold her hand, to bring her flowers. He would be there for her, he would protect her from anything that would try to hurt her, he would do anything for her. 

His father's grave sat in a desolate graveyard. It was the only one in the town, people rarely cared much to bury the dead. They were tossed aside, left out to rot. But Hakuji had dug this one himself, used his own hands and lifted his father slowly into the hole, patting down the dirt. He had carved the rock he had set there painstakingly, had nestled it above his father's head, bringing flowers for him from time to time. 

Sometimes he would bring the flowers he'd gotten for Koyuki, once they had wilted slightly. He didn't like putting things to waste, liked using everything until it was no more. So he put the flowers on his father's grave, letting them mix with the dirt, freshening it. 

He brought fresh flowers this time. White and red, ceremonial colors of a wedding. He placed the bundle neatly on the grave, sitting down in front of it. He clasped his hands together in a quick prayer before speaking, telling his father of his upcoming marriage. He was ecstatic, feeling like he could finally, truly be content with his life. He felt like he could live, now. And be happy about it.

He rose as the sun set, intending to find more flowers for Koyuki. He found a field, picked the prettiest of the flowers. But even the most beautiful, most precious of the roses lost their petals and wilted eventually. Even angels like Koyuki died.

The flowers were no longer newly picked, but he still gave them to Koyuki. He had spent hours carving out hers and Keizo's grave markers, redoing them if he made even the slightest mistake. It was his fault, after all. It didn't matter how many times it took, this had to be perfect for them. It was the least he could've done.

He wound the flower's stems around each other, creating a crown. He placed it on top of the stone, on top of the grave which held his dear Koyuki's body, nestled in the earth. Tears blurred his vision and he couldn't think. Couldn't fathom what he had done wrong, why the world kept taking from him. If he was destined to be alone. 

Rage overtook his grief as suddenly as one could express and he sought to find those who had taken the last two people he could ever care for. He fought blindly, letting the hot, red, boiling anger guide him. Until he stood admist the bodies of those who had wronged Koyuki, those who used jealousy as a justification, those who had killed the two most perfect people in the world. They were selfish people. But then again, so was Hakuji. Despite somehow avoiding the consequences of his own stupidity, he still cursed the world as if he was the one being hurt. 

He alone should've been killed. He should've left Koyuki and Keizo alone, should've respected his father's wishes to not steal. All of it was his own fault. All of it.

×××

« Word count: 1239 »

well that took a lovely turn (i loved writing this a lot oml)

[doblehkiin]

❗❗❗Long ask jumpscare warning ❗❗❗

idk if you still want asks but I thought I would talk about my 14-year-old self's extremely self-indulgent edgelord. He's changed a lot but I still adore him.

His name is Wencen Loresaris, he's my Snow Elf rogue. I've probably talked about him before, but I wanted to talk about his gimmick.

Lore's character gimmick is that he's several cryptids in the various regions of Skyrim, later being both Listener and Guildmaster. No one knows that these entities are one person.

Some behavioral context; Lore is always on the move, and kills people who look at him for too long. The more they see, the more they can describe, and then they can notice patterns. Patterns lead to conclusions, and conclusions will lead to his own death. Kids are the only exception. Everyone else has to die. Also, Lore operates at night. In the day, he rests in caves, sometimes sharing the space with an animal. He also uses nature magic that is unfamiliar to

Secrecy + old, forgotten nature magic he uses to get by + being centuries old himself = folklore.

In Hjaalmarch, he's considered a good omen and protector. He guides lost children home by taking the illusory form of a wolf and sheparding them back to Morthal. This led to him being called Fenrisulfr, which means 'Swamp wolf'. As thanks, locals started leaving offerings in a ruin up north. After that, the next harvests were especially bountiful. Due to his protection of children and the wolf motifs, he's seen as an aspect or spirit of Mara. It's custom for newly-weds to make a pilgrimage to Fenrisulfr's ruins and leave some of the wedding dowry.

Falkreath considers him a specter of Sithis that takes souls into the void. The Brotherhood operating in the area enforces the idea. Rather than being a reaper, he's the Seedsman, as flowers sprout in graveyards when he's in the area. They're used to death imagery, but the shadow in the cemetery is seen as someone being taken from you a second time, and the flowers are from the person's true and final passing-on. As such, they feel bitterness towards the Seedsman, even if they honor that its his duty. The flowers left are thought to indicate what kind of person the deceased was in life. Black dahlias always grow from the graves of Companions. Falkreath seeks their mercenary work elsewhere, in recent centuries.

He is most feared in the Rift. Remember that bit about Lore being nocturnal, couch-surfing with animals in the day, and killing people if they make too much contact?

The Rift is popular hunting ground. Hunters tend to track their prey—which is typically nocturnal and asleep in the day—back to their caves.

Getting netted, shot, or dogs sicced on you by a pack of hunters—while you're sleeping—is considered too much contact for Lore.

The impact was the lack of witnesses or survivors. The only evidence of something killing hunters, was the hunters' journals. Sometimes one or two get away, and write about the Thing they disturbed. It's only a matter of time before the Thing catches up to them. Search parties only find a shakily-written tale of an odd, not-of-this-world Thing. This creature was called the Something. Veteran Rift hunters know to go for their prey in the open, rather than by surprise in its sleep.

When told these legends, Lore is known to laugh, cough politely, and remember he has an errand.

edgelords are the best kind of oc's imo i don't care if that's controversial we all need a good edgelord. we also just need more falmer oc's. I love every single falmer oc I come across.

I love that you incorporated like, rituals with him being a cryptid cause he could just be like, a normal cryptid that people just whisper about but firstly nords love them some rituals and practices so that makes sense, but also it adds so much depth to his role as a cryptid.

i wish i was a cryptid in real life, he really is living my dream life i'm so jealous

[terrence-silver]

Old man Terry crying in grief for the lack of time he has with a youthful, vibrant beloved? 🥺💔

―

In 1985, after a trial regarding the displacement of an Amazonian rainforest native tribe in order to discard three hundred tonnes of toxic, residue oil on the newly cleared out grounds was won in his and Dynatox's favor, rendering all charges absolutely obsolete, the crowds gathered in front of the steps of Metropolitan courthouse in LA to protest the damn thing. Of course, Terry waved and smiled at the three huggers, posed for the cameras, provoking them only a little bit. Let them get a nice shot, he thought, dodging, with a chuckle, when one of the gathered mob tried to throw a black bucket of tar on his new suit. Armani. Custom made. Sheer white. Terry could've looked like he was going to his own wedding, but really, he was playing a practical joke. White for innocence and purity. What a riot. He giggled in delight even as his stylists put together the ensemble at his explicit request. It was just too good. It would look delectable in the tabloids, practically mocking everyone reading it. Of course, the regional judge was his associate and friend, closely affiliated with Willie Cole, so that helped the issue along just as smoothly as planned. What left that day firmly lodged in his mind was of course someone, some nameless person shouting something he found baffling and laughable from the sidelines. Lowbrow and tacky. 'Don't worry! Karma will get his ass!' How helpless. Nobody could do anything on their own against him when he was at the top of the world, so they were willing to rely on a make-belief force. Terry cackled in a roar at that, all the way to his tinted glass, armored Rolls Royce. Driving away, finding particular amusement in the statement.

He lit a celebratory Cohiba.

Later that night, the better half of the Hills was jubilantly socializing in his mansion.

Thirty three years later, it is the anniversary of that very court victory. Naturally, a private thing only he privately remember so many decades in the past, back when he didn't have you, as he sits with you, sharing a meal, sharing drinks, making small talk concerning franchising out his new Cobra Kai dojos, maybe outside the country --- anything to keep himself from going insane. His birthday was coming up. It is your own he focuses on, though; you were only just entering your late twenties and early thirties. Fear strikes in, acutely, like a stealthy knife between his ribs. It twists. Discipline, he reminders himself, without any mercy towards the issue or towards himself. After a warm bath together and so many small deaths twisted in his black satin sheets, your body contorting like an instrument in his arms, Terry ponders the real thing. Actual death. He doesn't have time, he doesn't have time, he doesn't have time. He doesn't even have to take to inebriation to start losing his composure. Whenever this happens, Terry makes himself deliberately overtly busy to avoid being controlled or distracted by his own inner musings, but as he works up a sweat in his private gym, the heat of the moment, his own Kata and workout routine mixing with chagrined teeth, he finds all the pent up energy coming out his own eyes. He cries. Terry cries in anger. John's words come to mind, that day at the dojo, when they were reunited. You're just an old man, in the last stages of his life.

He cries. In wrath. Kill. Kill. Kill.

That's how you find him, pacing, like a caged animal. Snake on the prowl.

He wants to ram his fist into a nearby wall, bloodshed bubbling up.

Even the look of concern on your face is beautiful, all shapes and love. He wants to strangle you. Why do you even exist? How dare you not exist sooner? Why do you exist? How dare you not... -"Terry…"- You trail off in your own worry, hands hovering and shaking around his shoulders, daring to embrace. You hold him and there's warmth in the act. Karma will get his ass. He ponders all the time wasted, all the times he wanted you. All the times he didn't have you because you weren't even born yet, an uncontrollable fact of age differences. You can have everything in life, but never at the same time or whatever bullshit, right?

Whoever came up with that proverb should've been hunted for sport.

Why not, though? Indignation.

Terry singlehandedly smashes a training dummy made out of concrete blocks as you try to hold him and prevent him from doing so. Your desperation feels good. Everything about you does, like an addictive drug. He feels no pain. And then he falls back and sinks into you, taking you against the wall, sweaty and salty, surrounded by exercise equipment and making you sob and seethe with him, pleasure diluting grief as he ruts into you, rough and fast. There was no time, except the now. So, he had to possess and possess. Terry laughs hysterically as he cums inside of you. No, no, he would make time. Invent more, if he had to. All the time he needed to consume you.

[kalpasio]

The Perfect Match

A Thoma x Reader fic, chapter 2 below!

Saying your wedding was magnificent would be an understatement. The weather had been perfect, as though the electro archon herself was parting the clouds for you. Though there was an abundance of nerves all around, everything ran smoothly, and the ceremony itself was flawless. Your kimono fit like a glove and the detailed embroidery dancing across the silk had everyone in attendance commenting on how lovely you looked. The party afterwards went exactly to plan as well; traditions were honored and new memories were made. As guests started to file out—long after the sun had gone down—they eagerly told you how it had been the perfect wedding for the perfect couple.

Throughout the day you held the smile everyone expected to see. You said what you should, laughed when you should, cried when you should, and followed every etiquette lesson to a T. The moment everyone was gone, you and Ayato shared a tired smile and happily put some space between yourselves. He went to Miyuki, while you crossed the room and left for the bedrooms. Once you reached Ayaka's room, you checked behind yourself to be sure no one could see you before slipping inside.

For a few moments, you stood there with your eyes closed taking deep breaths. Even you had your limits, and keeping up the act of being newly wed while also making polite conversation was pushing it. When you started to feel a little better, you took a step into the room and thought. You couldn't take off the kimono by yourself. There were so many layers that your arms couldn't really reach any of the ties keeping them on. That had been intentional, the though being that your husband would be helping you remove the fabric on your wedding night.

Your hair was pulled back and away from your face, creating a beautiful picture, but it was all held together with several varying pins. Some were practical, some only decorative, but all of them would be a pain to remove. Even if you thought you got them all, at least three more would fall out as you slept tonight. Rather than starting that battle, you settled for removing your makeup first since that was something you could definitely do by yourself.

Ayaka was supposed to be following you into her room shortly to help you get cleaned up, so you eyed the door in the mirror as you worked. The thought made you frown a little. Ayato would be taking his partner back to his room because no one would check there, but you were forced to hide in his sister's. Alone. She would come help you, and then you would be on your own. You would be spending your wedding night by yourself, and the rest of your life would be much the same. The thought made you stop your motions for a second before laughing to yourself, shaking your head, and resuming the task.

You really had been handed the short end of the stick, huh. Moving to a different country and being left to your own devices—your parents hadn't even spoken to you during the reception. Making friends who didn't have political motive would be impossible, and falling in love was a risk you couldn't take anymore. The man you did love would never see you in the same way. At best, Thoma might consider you his friend's wife, but that was if you were lucky. Chances are that he'll only see you as his employer. You couldn't even remember the last time he called you something other than 'my lady.'

Going through your options, you considered running away. It would leave a mess that the Kamisatos would never be able to fully clean up, and you couldn't do that to them. Besides, taking commissions for the Adventurer's Guild was rather troublesome when you couldn't show your face. One of your grandmothers had suggested killing your husband—something she certainly never did—but you quickly threw the idea away.

Having finished removing your makeup, you stared at your reflection in the mirror as you tried to come up with a way to escape the corner you had backed yourself into. When the door opened, you immediately were sending a hard glare at the person's reflection. Your eyes widened in shock before squinting in confusion at the sight of Thoma entering the room. He must not have expected to see you either, because he looked just as lost.

“What are you doing here?” the words left him in a rush, and he quickly tried to take them back. “I mean—not that you can't be here, but I thought...” The housekeeper trailed off trying to think through the situation. He swore he heard movement in Ayato's room on the way down the hall, but if you were here, who was there? Patiently, you turned around to face him and waited to see if he would pick up on what happened, but poor Thoma couldn't seem to wrap his head around how you were in two places at once. “I thought I heard you in Lord Ayato's room?”

“I am here,” you said the statement slowly, nodding as you spoke in the hopes that he would agree with you.

“Yes,” Thoma also spoke slowly and gave a nod of his own.

“So I am not there, right?”

“Right,” he agreed again, this time even more hesitantly.

“Meaning it was not me that you heard.”

“But--” Bright green eyes widened as Thoma caught on to what was happening. “Miyuki?” You gave a slow 'mhmm.' “But you were just married.”

“That's correct,” your statement baffled him and you couldn't hide your laugh. “A marriage neither of us ever intended to honor.” You took a deep breath at the prospect of explaining everything.

“I know you've seen how he stares at Miyuki. Ayato is not as good at acting as he would like to think, and you are not as stupid as you might lead others to believe.” At Thoma's pout, you called him out. “Playing dumb might get you lower prices at the fruit stand, but you have to try a lot harder to convince me. I've seen all the times you cover for the siblings, or trick Ayato into eating properly.” He only stared at you now, unsure whether he should be embarrassed or proud that you had noticed his efforts.

“Regardless,” you waved a hand and continued. “Miyuki has long been the object of Ayato's affections, and he explained this to me before the wedding was announced. We never planned to have anything more than a working relationship.”

“Why.” You could hardly hear the whisper from across the room, and the almost hurt expression on Thoma's face had you looking away.

“Ayato has a cover, and I get my parents off my back. Win-win.”

The room was silent as you both processed the conversation that had just happened.

“I still don't understand why you're here.”

“Ayato and I had sorted all of this out previously. It would be suspicious if I were to request my own room. Even if I did, I cannot guarantee that someone won't walk in unannounced. I can however have that guarantee in Lady Ayaka's chambers. Apart from you, no one would think of entering even if she were to invite them. And if someone were to come in and question why I'm here and not with my husband, asking my new sister to help me change into something less formal is a perfectly acceptable excuse.”

Thoma only gaped at you. You really had thought this all out. “I'm sorry my lady, it just—it just seems as though I am more upset about this than you are,” he laughed awkwardly.

“You likely are,” you laughed at his shocked look. “I've had more time to come to terms with it than you have.” Turning to the mirror, you began pulling the hundreds of pins from your hair. “While I'm certain I will be happy with this arrangement, I'm not heartless. I've shed my fair share of tears over the matter.” Then looking down for a moment you said, more to yourself, “Finding out that you're unwanted, even if you don't care for the person still hurts.” Looking up, you gave him that same teasing smile you'd worn before. “Ayato's just as bad,” you hid a giggle behind your hand. “I can proudly say I'm one of the few people to bring him to tears.”

Again, Thoma found himself staring at you in shock, his expression making you laugh some more. “I'm being serious, but I don't mean it in a bad way. I would never hold that over him, and it's not as though I intentionally hurt him.”

The housekeeper nodded silently as he tried to process all that he had just learned. “Then I suppose, I should wish you the best of luck in finding someone else.”

“Thank you.” You gave your first genuine smile of the night, and Thoma felt a blush creeping up at the sight. “Do you know where Ayaka is? You're the only person who seems to be able to keep track of anyone in this house it seems.”

“Ahh,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Lady Ayaka left to go for a quick walk. She actually sent me here, I just assumed it was to run her a bath, but now...”

“She sent you in her stead,” you finished. Normally you would have laughed at her blatant set up, but it had been a long day. The housekeeper looked away, both embarrassed by the situation, and embarrassed because he fully expected you to laugh at his predicament. Yet no such laugh came.

Slowly you stood from the vanity and turned to face him, sending another smile that had his heart racing. “If you're uncomfortable I can wait for Ayaka.” You said. He noticed the usual polite lilt to you words was gone. The way you spoke to him now was the same way Ayaka would speak to him in private, but he'd gotten used to her doing that. You on the other hand, had never seemed comfortable enough to relax like that. Thoma had honestly doubted that you'd ever let down your guard; whether around Ayato or anyone else. But you had. Just now. With him.

His brain couldn't seem to process that, and your comforting tone had only made things worse. If Thoma were to open his mouth right now, he was certain any words would become tangled with his tongue before the got anywhere near reaching you. He wasn't so much scared of the situation, as he was shocked that you trusted him this much. Not that you had any way to know that; as far as you could tell, you'd pushed Thoma's boundaries and he was struggling to think of a polite way out of the room and away from you.

Just as slowly as you'd moved closer to him, you moved away, taking a step back from him as you spoke. “I'm truly sorry--” And Thoma didn't hear the rest of your apology because he was too busy being upset that you'd gone back to that formal wording you used with everyone. The disappointment must have shown on his face because now you were giving him a concerned look, unsure whether you should move closer to comfort him, or try to leave the room so he could have more space to think.

“Oh! You don't need to apologize my lady, I was just lost in thought.”

For a moment, Thoma thought the situation was fixed; he was ok, you were ok, all he needed to worry about was helping you out of your formal wear without losing his mind. But instead of smirking and asking him for help again, you looked confused. Then almost mad.

“If I'm doing something that bothers you, I want to know,” you spoke sternly and Thoma's eyes widened in shock. Before he could apologize—for what, he wasn't sure, he just couldn't stand the idea of you being angry with him—you were speaking again. “I know you speak your mind around Lady Ayaka and her brother. While I'm aware I am not as close to you as they are, I should hope that you would know me well enough not to lie to my face.”

“N-no! my lady,” you frowned again, “of course I would tell you if something were wrong, but you really haven't done anything for me to be upset about! Did you still want me to help with your kimono?” His explanation didn't seem to do much to improve your mood, but you at least let him move close enough to unwrap the several layers of cloth. Both of you were silent as he worked; you didn't what to say, and Thoma was afraid to upset you. When he got down to the last bit, you politely told him you could manage from there.

“You know?” Thoma saw that smirk you wore in the mirror and he could already feel the blush rising from the comment he knew would follow. “I think you've seen more of me than my own husband,” you laughed behind your hand while his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“I didn't mean to stare my lady!”

This time you actually seemed to be trying to cover your laugh, though it didn't work. “I wasn't accusing you of staring. Not that I would mind if you were,” that casual tone you use had come back and it was doing Thoma no favors at the moment. “I can handle the rest from here,” your gaze met his in the mirror, and you smiled before continuing. “I think I've harassed you enough. You did a lot today, and you deserve a break.” Pausing, your smile turned to a smirk, “I won't stop you if you want to continue staring though,” Thoma gave a short huff at all your teasing.

“If you need anything, I'll be up for a while longer, just call.” He made his way to the door, refusing to give you the satisfaction of seeing his red face.

“Of course. Thank you Thoma,” your words were nothing special, it was something he'd heard a million times before, but the way you said them stuck with him.

Only fifteen minutes passed before he gave up. You had sounded so sad, he couldn't stand it; so he marched back to your—Ayaka's—room and knocked softly in case you were asleep. There was a tense second where he heard nothing, then there was a sigh and some shuffling. The door slid open a crack for you to look through and Thoma's hand twitched, wanting to open it the rest of the way. Especially when he saw the tear stains on your cheeks that looked like they had been hurriedly wiped away.

“Did you need something?” you attempted to hid a sniffle behind your overly formal tone.

“Can I come in?” he whispered like he was afraid to startle you away.

“No.” The word was quiet but final. You didn't want him seeing you cry and you weren't finished sobbing just yet.

“My lady--” All the housekeeper saw was a flash of a scowl on your face before the door was slammed shut with enough force to rattle the walls.

You wanted to throw something. You wanted to scream and cry and hide so as to never be seen again. The one person you cared about, the only one you'd open up to, would never think of you as anything more than his employer. At best, maybe his friend, but at the end of the day, he would never call you by your name. It would always be 'My lady.'

Falling to your knees, you couldn't even make it to the bed before the tears began again. Curled up and dressed in your underclothes alone, you looked like a painting, Thoma thought. He knew you didn't want him coming in, but you'd left the door unlocked, and he couldn't simply stand there when you were so clearly upset. When his arms came around you, you readily fell into the embrace, looking for any sort of comfort. You stayed like that—curled up in his lap—for what felt like hours, but the housekeeper made no move to rush your recovery.

The tears hadn't ended, but they had slowed considerably, and you had started to sit up to wipe away the trails they left. Still holding on to you gently, Thoma spoke. “My lady,” he said the wrong thing.

“Don't!” You instantly pushed against his chest, trying to get away. His arms stayed around you, only to keep you from falling, and when you had righted yourself, he let go, watching you move a few feet away before curling in on yourself and crying again.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly, voice wavering as though he was about to cry himself. Thoma couldn't stand seeing you like this. You looked vulnerable and scared and so very, very hurt. All he could do was bundle you back into his arms and hold you. Apologies were said, only to be muffled by your hair, and tears were shed by you both.

“Please,” you spoke after several minutes and Thoma had to strain his ears to hear the words. “Don't call me that.”

“Call you what?” He felt his heart beat faster as he started to panic. Had he been insulting you this whole time, was that why you were so upset? He could never forgive himself if he had been the source of all the pain you were feeling right now.

“My lady,” you practically spat the words from your mouth as though they burned. Thoma was too confused to even speak. “I hate it when you call me that,” your fingers tightened around his jacket, and he pulled you closer to his chest in return. The two of you sat in silence for a while longer before you spoke again.

“When I was growing up, I was told that everything I was taught, every punishment my parents gave, was for my wedding,” you sniffled. “I was told it would all be worth it once I got married. That if my partner didn't love me before the ceremony, they would learn to after.” There was a pause as you choked back a sob and Thoma softly ran his hand up and down your back. “The one thing I was promised from the day I was born,” your voice turned bitter, “I will never have.”

“I know Ayato is happy, but it hurts,” your throat tightened up and you grew louder with each word. “Knowing he's spending his wedding night with the love of his life and I'm just thrown by the wayside. Waiting patiently to do my job when it's most convenient, only to be tossed away right after.”

“I just wanted one night,” you whispered and Thoma's heart shattered.

You deserved so much more than a husband that would never love you in a country that would only use you to strengthen relations. You deserved to be placed on a pedestal for the world to admire, not hidden in the shadows like some discarded plaything. He would give you the world if he could. Spend every day giving you the affection you were missing. But he couldn't. All he could do...

“What did you want on your wedding night?” Thoma spoke in a soft tone, but you could hear the determination in his voice. “I'll go get anything you like, take you anywhere you please, I'd worship you until the sunrise if you ask.”

I want you to love me, you nearly said, but the words got stuck in your throat. “I don't know.”

“Come on,” he gave a watery laugh, betraying the fact that he had been crying too. “I know you. You've probably got the night planned out down to the hour.” You gave a laugh yourself, but still said nothing. “Well,” the housekeeper stood with you in his arms and carried you to the bed. “I know sitting on the floor crying your eyes out all night definitely isn't on the itinerary.” He sat you down on his lap, still holding you close to his chest.

“No, it's not,” he heard another small laugh but nothing more.

“Diiiid you want to eat a specific food?” You shook your head in response. “Wear a fancy dress? Do a certain dance?” Both questions had you shaking your head again.

“Is this twenty questions?”

“Until you tell me what it is that you want,” Thoma spoke confidently. “I got all night princess.”

“Ayaka is a princess,” you reminded him.

“Ah, of course. You're a queen.”

“Please don't call me that,” you mumbled into his chest and felt the laughter that followed. Before he could ask another question, you spoke again. “I think I want a nap.” It was true, between the wedding itself and the hour you spent crying, you were exhausted. The fact that Thoma was wrapping you in a blanket of warmth just made things worse.

“I think at this point in the night, that's just called going to bed,” he smiled and rested his chin on top of your head, but you only shrugged. “You can't just get out of this by going to sleep,” he threatened. Normally you would give some witty comeback that meant you had won the disagreement, but that response never came.

“Thoma,” you yawned, “I'm tired. I just want to sleep.” The picture you painted had his heart melting, and the housekeeper gave in.

“Ok, ok. Just, promise you'll come get me when you wake up?” His request fell upon deaf ears; when he leaned back and looked down at you, you had already fallen asleep.

Reader is having a Not Good Time. also I have a note that says "AHAHAHAHA YOU FUCKING THOUGHT. YOU THOUGHT IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN (it's ok I did too)" and that's it. Like. I don't remember writing this, but it sure is there. past me was angy

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Jiang Yanli’s first engagement had been announced when she was three and a half years old – there had been a big party, festooned in color, exquisitely and meticulously planned out in advance, and she’d been obliged to stand on stage next to a baby in a cradle that had done nothing but cry and spit as all the adults around her congregated and congratulated each other on the excellent match.

She hadn’t enjoyed that at all.

Her second wedding announcement was simultaneously more casual and more noteworthy, and she enjoyed it tremendously. 

Madame Jin had sent several invitations to Jiang Yanli to come visit Lanling in advance of the hunt planned for Phoenix Mountain, speaking of how beautiful it was and how much she looked forward to seeing her good friend’s daughter – talking about she’d always regretted how Jiang Yanli had been obligated by circumstances to take shelter at the Unclean Realm rather than in Lanling City, although she’d been pleased to hear from her son that she was doing well – all the right sort of words. The words might have been more welcome if Jiang Yanli hadn’t known that Madame Jin was still intent on securing the marriage she had arranged.

If she hadn’t been engaged, she would have accepted the invitation, hoping to form an alliance for her sect through a close relationship with Madame Jin even if she didn’t have one with Jin Zixuan (no matter what Madame Jin hoped), but as she was, in fact, engaged to another – even if it hadn’t been formally announced – it would be inappropriate to go. So she instead played ignorant and responded graciously, protesting that she couldn’t possibly impose, that the rebuilding at the Lotus Pier needed her, but that she would of course be happy to attend the hunt alongside the rest of her sect.

She arrived at her brother’s side, smiling all the while.

Her second engagement was announced like this: Sect Leader Jin, using his newly legitimized son as his mouthpiece, had brought forward some ghastly ‘entertainment’ that involved shooting at helpless prisoners, tied up in chains. Jin Zixuan had complied, but Wei Wuxian had marched out and disrupted everything by showing off to a ridiculous extent – Nie Mingjue, who had been watching with a black face full of rage but unable to speak due to propriety, had started applauding very loudly and very enthusiastically – and Sect Leader Jin had ordered the prisoners taken away.

“Well, then,” he said, clapping as if he had impressed himself: as if they hadn’t just been subjected to a powerplay under the guise of hospitality, as if everyone would be over-awed by his might now that they had seen him abuse the helpless while they were all forced by the rules of etiquette to say nothing or else risk carrying the blame for trying to start another war. “Absent anything else, we should proceed to the hunt itself, where await you only the finest of prey and the sharpest competition among your peers.”

For the further display of the power of the Jin sect, he meant.

“Actually,” Nie Mingjue said, interjecting in a moment in which Sect Leader Jin had paused to take a breath so that it was technically not an interruption, “there is one thing. A request, in fact.”

Sect Leader Jin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he maintained his false smile. “Of course, Sect Leader Nie. What can I do for you?”

“I’m getting married,” Nie Mingjue said. “The bride is Young Mistress Jiang, of Yunmeng Jiang, and I would like –” He raised his voice to overcome the abrupt explosion of talk that had erupted. “– I would like to have her accompany my sect in today’s hunt. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your plans for a competition between the sects?”

There were those who said that Jiang Yanli’s chosen husband was bad at politics, and they might even be right. But it didn’t really matter in the end if he’d thought of the idea on a whim or if it’d been a prearranged plan by Nie Huaisang, who was cleverer than he liked to let on to people, Jiang Yanli’s future husband had still wiped away in a single sentence all memory of the farce they’d all just endured and of the hunt that was yet to come, ensuring that the only thing anyone would remember about today was the shocking news of the engagement of the leader of one Great Sect to the sister of another.

(And if everyone remembered that at the last celebration hosted by Sect Leader Jin, he had proposed to resurrect the marriage between Jiang Yanli and his own son, instead, forcing her to publicly demur on vague terms…well, that just made it all the more satisfying.)

Now it was Sect Leader Jin’s turn to scowl and glare, and Madame Jin’s expression looked no less thunderous, but in the end Jiang Yanli got to go with the Nie sect on the hunt.

“You know I’ll only slow you down,” she said to Nie Mingjue, who snorted.

“No more than Huaisang will,” he said, and if his face was stern and his voice gruff then she still thought she detected fondness and humor beneath it. “Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity to measure you.”

It turned out that he meant that more literally than she might have thought.

Jiang Yanli was promptly whisked away to the back of the Nie retinue by a small cadre of Nie disciples, men and women both. She was presented with a number of training sabers shaped out of wood and made to hold them in a variety of positions as they murmured things about stability and reach and balance as if they really, truly thought that she would actually use the saber they were preparing for her.

“This one,” Nie Jiahui, a steely older woman with silver in her hair and fierce eyes, eventually announced, and the practice saber Jiang Yanli had been waving around was taken away. She was then presented with one that was twice as heavy, for “practice”.

“Do you always practice with something heavier than the actual thing?” she asked, and Nie Jiahui nodded.

“Strengthens the shoulders,” she said, curt but not standoffish. “Have some candy.”

Jiang Yanli blinked, but smiled and accepted the offer. It was licorice, which she liked.

“Do you often carry candy with you on night-hunts?” she asked, listening to the sound of fighting from up ahead. Every so often, a disciple or two would trot by carrying the corpses of larger and larger creatures, slain in the fighting; it seemed that the Nie sect was not, in fact, being slowed down in the slightest by her presence.

Of course, she also wasn’t being tended to as if she were their chosen lady, either, as she might have otherwise expected – all pomp and flowery language, Nie Mingjue by her side at all times to show her around as if they were on a pleasure stroll – but in all honesty that would have been a little bewildering. It was very much not the Nie sect’s character, all practical and straightforward, and she found that she preferred it that way.

“It’s important to have something to replenish energy,” Nie Huaisang said, having dropped back to join them from the front. He looked tired and grumpy, but his saber appeared to have been put to some work; he immediately climbed up into the carriage that people were taking turns riding and started cleaning it. “And licorice candy clears the lungs.”

“Clears the lungs?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“It’s good for more than that,” Nie Jiahui said. “But that’s one of the uses, yes. Do you ever feel like your chest is too tight, especially when you move too much? Leading to coughing, shortness of breath, your lips turning blue?”

Jiang Yanli blinked. “Yes,” she said. “But that’s just because I was born with a weak body.”

Nie Jiahui scoffed and Nie Huaisang laughed. “Good luck with that,” he said cheerfully. “I was born with muscles that didn’t keep their tone: too flexible, incapable of gathering strength, requiring more energy to do less, making me twice as tired twice as fast – even sitting up straight can be a struggle in some extreme cases, though luckily not mine. And do you think that helped me one bit in getting out of saber training? It did not.”

“Early childhood intervention is best,” Nie Jiahui said. “But the next best is starting today. I’ll show you some low-impact exercises that you can start working on to strengthen your shoulders and stomach, as well as some balance movements to center yourself and improve your posture – that way, by the time your actual saber is ready, you’ll be able to take it through one of the basic routines.”

“I’m happy to learn whatever you have to teach,” Jiang Yanli said, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s dramatic cry of ‘And here I thought you’d be on my side!’ “I only regret troubling you.”

“Not at all,” Nie Jiahui said. “It’ll be good to have someone watching the Sect Leader’s back on night-hunts.”

Jiang Yanli felt a surge of terror and excitement in her belly. “He would trust me with that? You would trust me with that?”

“I did tell you that you’d need to keep up with him,” Nie Huaisang said mildly, and it was true, he had, only she’d assumed it was a bit more metaphorical. “You don’t have to fight or even walk too much, if it doesn’t suit you – my grandmother was lame in both her legs from a childhood illness, she rode everywhere, scariest woman I’ve ever met by far – but you do have to be there. Someone needs to be able to tell my brother to stop. Someone he’ll listen to.”

And wasn’t that something of a thrill to think of?

Jiang Yanli wasn’t someone anyone listened to – not her parents, not her brother, not her sect disciples. She’d always been the one who comforted them afterwards, who supported them; she made them food and tried to convince them to be kinder to each other, and sometimes they even tried for a while before getting into another tiff. They would kill for her if she so much as hinted at it, tear down the sky for her, but it was more in the nature of indulging her rather than actually allowing them to guide her.

Yet here was Chifeng-zun, a war hero and a sect leader, one of the most powerful men in the world, a man admired by men and sought after (even if only in their hearts) by women, and his family was telling her that he would listen to her.

“If you say so,” she demurred, but they insisted, and by the time the hunt was over Jiang Yanli was surprised to realize that she hadn’t needed to resort to sitting on the carriage more than twice the entire time.

“We’ll send Auntie Jiahui to the Lotus Pier after today’s hunt is done,” Nie Huaisang chattered cheerfully in her ear as they headed back towards Jinlin Tower. “She’ll work you through your paces, believe you me, and all the supplemental things, too – making sure you eat the right thing, take medicinal baths to improve your meridians, apply massages to loosen your joints…those parts are nice, actually. Take care of your body as you would your saber, take care of your saber as you would your wife! That’s how the saying goes. Trust me, you’ll be regretting the whole thing soon enough.”

Jiang Yanli didn’t think she would. “You seem very confident that A-Cheng will allow you to do as you please, even in the Lotus Pier.”

“I’ll tell him it concerns secret Nie sect marriage rituals,” Nie Jiahui interjected. “When two women are involved, men tend to run away when the words ‘marriage’ and ‘secret’ are combined.”

Sadly, she was probably right.

“Show me those exercises again,” she requested, and Nie Jiahui climbed up on to the carriage to show her the ones she could do even while sitting down.

Jiang Yanli might never have had the opportunity to strengthen herself before, and she was moderately certain that she wouldn’t have too much success now, as the various tricks Nie Jiahui had taught her were largely body refinement, barely reliant on qi, and her cultivation was still as low as ever.

But she was good at devoting herself to learning something when she wanted to, and as soon the hunt at Phoenix Mountain was over and they had shifted over to the various feasts and meetings that Lanling Jin had planned for the rest of the week, she began her efforts at self-improvement in earnest.

The weak body her mother had always despaired of might always be weak – Nie Jiahui had been quite blunt on that subject, making it clear that nothing she was suggesting was some sort of miracle pill, and furthermore that there was nothing wrong with being weak as long as she made an effort (Nie Huaisang had been the recipient of several pointed looks there) – but Jiang Yanli was determined to at least demonstrate that she was trying.

A gesture of good faith, perhaps. Some small show of initiative.

Nie Huaisang had said that Nie Mingjue appreciated her initiative.

“A-Xian,” she called one morning, only a few days later. “A-Xian, are you going out for a walk? Let me come with you.”

“You’ve gone on a lot of walks recently,” Wei Wuxian laughed, but allowed her to take his arm as they walked into the crowd. “Do you like Lanling City so much?”

“It’s the exercise I’m after,” she said, smiling at him. “The Nie sect is a martial sect, remember? I’ll be going on more night-hunts in the future, if all goes well, and I’ll need to keep up.”

“Oh, but surely they’ll bring a carriage..? I don’t know if you really need to go on night-hunts –”

“I want to! It’ll be nice. Don’t worry about me so much, A-Xian –”

Wei Wuxian was shaking his head, smiling, and he wasn’t looking where he was going; perhaps that was why he bumped into the young woman.

But then she looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and he froze.

“Wen Qing?”

[beyondspaceandstars]

hello writer!! i was wondering if you could do a fluff arranged marriage loki oneshot with the prompt “can we makeout now?”

thanks for considering!

Dating and Marriage

Relationship: Loki x Reader

Warnings: N/A, just fluff!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: alright i hope this is okay and ended up well i love the arrange marriage AU and i thought i was gonna be better at putting this together but maybe its clunky or something idk i still like it so i hope you do as well!

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It had taken you a while to get somewhere in your relationship with Loki.

When the two of you were informed you had already been promised to one another before either of your births, you weren’t too shocked. As both of you came from royal standings, arranged marriages were far too common for a variety of reasons. In your case, it was to cement a peace treaty.

Sure, at first, you and Loki were very annoyed with the decision, especially since neither of you was ever even given the chance to be in on the conversation but that annoyance wasn’t allowed for very long. You two were adults now and had to take on your royal responsibilities as such. That responsibility included following through on the outlined marriage.

Loki didn’t seem to harbor any malice towards you and you never held anything against him. But, still, it wasn’t like you two were in love. You were tolerating one another.

And for a while, that toleration was enough. As a couple, you were quite poised in public. Sometimes you thought maybe it was hard for others to believe it was an arranged marriage based on how much you seemed to accept each other’s company. It was okay at times, you felt like you had a friend. Being a royal in a whole new palace could be lonely. Loki at least would spare you some time to sit and chat.

But this unusual friendship you two had started after the wedding was growing into something else for you day by day. And as much as he probably wanted to deny it, you could see something shift within Loki. He’d look at you differently. Reach for your hand when out of the public eye. Even began inviting you to spend his leisure time with him.

There was no avoiding the fact you two were headed on a different course than originally planned in this arrangement and despite its prevalence, you two didn’t speak about it. But you were growing greatly tired of ignoring it.

"We should go on a date," you suddenly said one afternoon. You and Loki were sitting in the library. He was in his favorite chair, consumed with some fairytale while you were seated on the couch across from him, in the process of knitting…something. You didn’t know what — you had only taken up knitting because you had heard other princesses did it. Making scarves had become all the rage.

You could feel Loki eyeing you suspiciously as you tried working on another stitch.

Eventually, he placed his book to the side and spoke. "A date?" Loki echoed.

You shrugged, not taking your eyes off the yarn. "Yeah, a date. You know, just the two of us. We could go out or — or maybe make some dinner here. I’ve been having the kitchen servants teach me about cooking."

"I know what a date is," he sighed. "What I meant is, why should we go on a date? We’re already married."

You felt a bit defeated with that response. You set your yarn on your lap and looked at your husband. He was watching you quite intensely, waiting for your answer. You shivered under the icy stare.

"Y-You don’t want to—"

Loki cut you off abruptly. "I didn’t say that." He glanced down then back at you. "It’s just that… Dates are for wooing, yes? Why would I need that when I can already tell you’re taken with me."

Your heart dropped. You blinked at him, stunned. You hadn’t expected him to just…admit he knew what was working up in your mind. There was some pride in his eyes at your reaction but behind it, you could make out a hint of fascination.

You tried shaking off your pounding heart. You promptly picked back up the yarn, continuing your hopeless scarf, as you responded, "Have you never considered that maybe your wife still wants to be wooed despite the status of her interest."

"So you admit," he chuckled, "you have fallen for me."

You scoffed, "Don’t act all high and mighty. I’m well aware of how you look at me."

You heard Loki lean back in the chair as the leather of it creaked. You could feel his eyes roaming over you but you didn’t know in what capacity. Whatever was in his eyes now you were ignoring as you frantically tried to focus on knitting and not your love confession.

"Okay," he eventually said. "We’ll have a date."

It was impossible for you to hold back the smile forming on your lips.

***

After minimal deliberation, Loki agreed to let you cook for him. You had heard that the Midgardians used food as signs of love and were fascinated with trying to learn some dishes. You studied with the servants for days trying to perfect a meal. They were always a little uncertain about letting a princess in where servant frequented but once you explained this time you were cooking to please your husband, they giggled like schoolgirls, excited to help.

Once you felt prepared enough, you informed your husband of when you wanted the date. You may have had to do some rework of both your royal schedules but it was fine. Meetings are forever, love can be fleeting.

You were preparing the food when Loki hesitantly entered the kitchen. You had explained that you two would be eating at the kitchen table. It was just a little table where servants usually sat to eat meals or relax in between shifts.

Loki had originally protested this saying he was not of such low status. You assured him that there was no intimacy to be found at the grand dining hall. It was far too big and annoying for two people. He didn’t argue further, just mumbling that he’d be there at the time requested.

And, luckily, he followed through.

"Hi, honey," you smiled, watching the stew simmer above the flame.

Loki took his seat gently as if he was going to catch something from the table. "This is really what you wanted to do for our date?"

You nodded. "I’ve had so much fun learning this meal and doesn’t it smell great? I think it’s going to be nice. I ever have bread baking." You motioned towards the stone oven. Loki followed your gaze but didn’t look impressed yet.

"We could’ve very easily had someone make this for us," Loki pointed out. "We have that luxury, darling."

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your bubbling stew. You could feel your anger bubbling in the same fashion.

"That’s not the point, Loki," you said, the tone in the kitchen shifting as you spoke his name. You rarely ever did. He perked up as you continued, "The point is that I, your wife, like you and would like to express my adornment through a freshly cooked meal."

Loki fell silent with that, something that was so rare for him. You didn’t push any further, though, and instead killed the fire under the stew and presented your bread from the oven. You divided it out into individual portions then placed each on the table. Still with an annoyed, sour look, you sat across from your husband. He was watching the stew, you were watching him.

"It—It looks delicious," he said

"Thank you," you mumbled. You two dug in then, this date now turning out a bit more awkward than you had planned. Neither of you spoke for a while, instead filling the kitchen with the slurping of soup and chewing of bread.

Loki soon began looking between you and the food like he was working up the courage to say something which was absolutely ridiculous to you. Your husband was one of the most outspoken people in the realm.

Eventually, you just decided to look up at him, your eyes begging for him to say whatever he wanted to say.

"This meal is lovely," Loki eventually said. "Th-Thank you for…doing all this."

You smiled, a faint blush creeping up on your cheeks. "You’re welcome."

Loki finished his stew then asked, "What else should we do on this date?"

Now you were really blushing. While taking your little cooking classes, you asked the servants what else goes on on dates. They seemed like lovely girls and you were curious. You had heard stories before of dancing and parties but you wanted something more intimate and you had never actually been on much of a date before. You spent time with boys in your youth and the night before your wedding you and Loki had talked for a little bit but nothing was ever of such fashion.

One servant had informed you, quite shyly, that she and her boyfriend always finished their dates by making out. You had gasped, amazed at her bluntness but then remembered these were servant girls. They lived far less controlled lives than you.

You were partially envious but then you realized, technically, you had a husband. A husband who was capable of making out with you even if such actions and beyond were typically reserved for very a calculated time — heir bearing, such intimacy only happened during the time when potential conception was at its peak.

"Well," you said, running your spoon through your bowl of stew, "one of the servants that helped me said her and her boyfriend end their dates with make-outs."

"Making out?" Loki repeated, brows raised in surprise. "But it’s not—"

"I know."

He looked away. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain. "You want to make out with me for fun."

You giggled at his shock. "Is that so unbelievable? I thought we already established I am into my husband."

"Yes, but you, well, neither of us, have never been so bold before."

"But it’s not such a bad thing," you shrugged, "to be so bold."

Loki hummed in agreement as he eyed you. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you definitely knew something between you two had shifted. It had already been shifting, sure, but your newly expressed desires opened the dam walls.

"Alright, dear, I think I can indulge you."

You smiled at his excitement which he was certainly trying to hide. But you maybe wanted to take a moment to maybe mess with him a bit. "Hmm," you glanced around at the dirty pots and pans, "after we clean up."

Loki’s jaw dropped. "What?"

"We can get on with our date once we clean up."

"You’re kidding me, right?" He pointedly asked. You shook your head. Loki huffed, "When did my wife become such a tease?"

You stood up, collecting your bowls and plates, bringing them to the counter. "I’ve always been like this, honey," you said. "Maybe you just have to get to know me a little bit more."

Loki began stalking towards you as you pretended to be fooling with the dirty dishes. "Well, darling," he said as his hands came upon your hips, "there’s something you must know about me and it’s that I don’t like to be kept waiting."

"I can maybe leave all this for later if you ask nicely."

He scoffed. "Are you asking me to beg?"

You shook your head. "I’m just asking you to ask nicely."

"Fine," he sighed. "Please, can we make out now?"

You sighed, leaning into his hard body. His arms moved to wrap around your waist now. "Yes, your majesty."

Loki chuckled lowly, dangerously, in your ear. "Thank you, princess."

He leaned his head around and within seconds, your lips were captured with his, getting more and more lost in one another as you two become a miss of kisses and touches.

[itsapeterthing]

Secrets (Five) || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: as time goes on at the compound, you begin to come to terms with your new abilities and your relationship with your husband, bucky

a/n: i'm so sorry for the delay, but i hope you enjoy!!

word count: 2.5k

warnings: pregnancy if you squint

Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four

masterlist || request || taglist

"You might have to get a matching set of earrings, but I don’t think it’s too shabby.” Nat said, leaning back in her seat.

Playing with the newly gifted bracelet on your wrist, you chuckled.

“I guess it could be worse.” You joked. “And this is supposed to stop me from... you know... turning the whole room to ice?”

“Not stop-” Bruce corrected you. “Control. We’re never going to be able to... reverse... what happened, but at least this will help you control it.”

Nodding your head along with what he was saying, your eyes strayed from your wrist to your husband standing against the far wall of the lab, his arms crossed and eyes focused on you. 

The two of you hadn’t spoken to each other since the first day you had woken up from being captured and he had held you in his arms. You were still struggling with coming to terms with who your husband was and even who you were. Knowing you needed your space, he had respected your wishes, keeping a painful distance from you for the past three days since you had woken up in the icy room of the Compound.

His eyes snapping away from yours, they landed on an article of clothing laying on one of the countertops in the lab.

“What’s that?” He asked, speaking up for the first time that day.

You, Bruce, Nat and Sam glanced at one another before your eyes landed on the suit on the table. Crossing your arms, you focused your attention at the ground.

“A suit.” Bruce clarified.

“Yeah, no shit.” Bucky said, picking up the cloth. “For who?”

“For me.” You said, speaking up, still not meeting your husband’s eyes.

An awkward silence hung in the room for a brief moment after your confession, before Bucky found his voice again.

“Can I talk to you outside?” He asked, pushing open the doors of the lab.

Nodding, you said nothing before following close behind your husband into the hallway of the Compound. When situated outside, you looked up at him.

“What?” You asked.

“What?” He repeated. “Don’t ‘what’ me, Y/n. Since when did you start having them make you a suit? I thought once this was all over you wanted to go home.”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms.

“I never said that.” You said. “You just assumed that. I mean, what do you want me to do, Buck? I have abilities that other people don’t have. I can’t just go home after this and pretend like this isn’t a part of me anymore- like this never happened. I have these abilities and I should use them for good. I have to. You don't have to worry about me. I made this choice for myself.”

Staring at the resolve written all over your face, Bucky laced his fingers into his hair, tugging the short strands.

He understood what you were saying. He understood that you felt a responsibility to do good, but he thought of himself too- how he fell into the position he was in now.

He didn’t make the choice to be an Avenger. The choice had been made for him the moment he fell from that train and was taken into the hands of Hydra. He wanted better for you than a life you hadn’t chosen. He wanted better for you than a life where you were constantly risking your life and wondering if you would live to see another day.

He wanted more for himself than losing the love of his life because of a sense of duty.

“You don’t choose to go into stuff like this, Y/n.” Bucky said, unlacing his fingers from his hair and throwing his arms in the air. “You’re forced. You can still get out of this, doll. Don’t stay because you feel like you have to- you don’t owe anybody anything. You have the choice to go home and forget about all this and that’s what most people like me wish for.”

“Fine, you know what?” You said, throwing your hands up in the air. “You’re right. I don’t have a choice. I was forced into this shit because I didn’t know who I married and some guy tried to kill me because of it. Don’t stand there and act like you know what’s good for me when you’re the whole reason I’m in this mess.”

Slipping the bracelet off of your wrist, you held it between your fingers and watched as the floor below you began to turn to ice at your feet and frost started to coat the bracelet in your hand.

“Look at this, Buck.” You said, waving the bracelet. “Look at this! You think I can just go home and pretend like I wouldn’t turn you into a fucking popsicle if this was off for more than two minutes? I can’t pretend like this isn’t happening to me and if I have the chance to do something good with it then I will.”

Watching Bucky’s eyes soften as he stared at you, you slipped the bracelet back onto your wrist, the ice melting away with it. Shaking his head, you watched as the angry demeanor that he had been portraying seconds ago faded away as his shoulders relaxed and his hands went still at his sides.

“I just want what’s best for you.”

The way his voice cracked as the words slipped out of his mouth and he could barely meet your eyes made your heart tug in your chest. You knew he didn’t mean you any harm. You knew even after everything that he was just looking out for you, but you also knew that he had a clouded sense of what was right and wrong for you.

Relaxing your shoulders, you slowly walked over to your husband, resting your hand on his bicep.

“I know that, Buck.” You said softly, urging him to meet your eyes. “But when are you going to realize that you don’t know what that is?”

-

Looking into the room through the window of the door, you fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist, all the thoughts of what could go wrong running through your mind. Feeling the cold touch of vibranium wrap around your wrist, you stopped your fidgeting.

“Stop worrying, Y/n.” Bucky said from beside you. “Everything is gonna be fine.”

“What? I’m not worried.” You lied.

“You’re joking, right?” He asked, a hint of a smile gracing his face and what you would even call a chuckle slipping from his mouth. “At our wedding you twisted your engagement ring the whole time and remember when you took those pregnancy tests for Grant? You spent the whole time messing with that stupid bracelet on your wrist I was worried your skin was gonna turn red. Even that little- God what is it called? That thing Becca made for Mother’s Day last year?”

“Are you talking about that macaroni necklace?” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes!” Bucky exclaimed, snapping his fingers when you finally said the name. “That thing. You were messing with that thing so much that when you saw me hit my head on the cabinet door you snapped the pasta right in your hand.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about.

Your kitchen sink had stopped working properly that day and rather than call an actual plumber, your husband had insisted that he knew what he was doing and he would be able to fix it just fine. You watched as he worked, his head inside the cabinet as you leaned against the countertop fiddling with your newly gifted necklace from your daughter around your neck.

When water began to shoot out of the pipe, your husband cursing as water blasted his face, he attempted to pull away, knocking his head on the doorframe on the way out. As soon as you heard his shout, you felt the piece of macaroni shatter in your fist as you squeezed it tightly.

“Oh God, Buck are you okay?” You asked.

“God damn it!” He cursed again. “This hurts like shit.”

“Are you bleeding?” You asked, now standing in the puddle of water that coated the floor.

Pulling his hand away from the spot on his head that he had just hit and not seeing any blood, he shook his head.

Breathing a sigh of relief knowing that you wouldn’t have to be making a trip to the hospital that day, you took in the scene around you as the water continued to spray out of the pipe flooding the floor of your kitchen.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?” He asked looking up at you, you just now noticing the droplets of water coating his eyelashes and face.

“Can we call a plumber now?”

Looking around him and the puddle of water he was sitting in, he sighed, giving in.

“Yes, doll.”

“You know, it’s kind of funny thinking about it now.” You chuckled to yourself. “I was worried about you hitting your head on a cabinet and you’ve survived shit that only happens in movies.”

As Bucky laughed along with what you had just said, you stared up at your husband, catching the smile that had crossed his face for the first time in a week, noticing now the dark circles under his eyes and the scruff that hadn’t been shaved in days. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept since the last time you laid in bed beside him. You hadn’t checked the mirror yet, but you could guess that you didn’t look much different.

“I guess I am kind of worried.” You confessed.

“I know, but there’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”

For the first time since you had found out about his double life, you trusted in what he said.

When you nodded your head you felt as his hand brushed along your back, resting in the curvature of your spine. With his free hand, he slowly opened the door of the room, revealing your son and Sam on the other side.

Upon hearing the door open, your son’s head darted from the table he was sitting at towards where you were standing in the doorway. As soon as his eyes landed on you, you watched as he pushed himself away from the table, the metal chair he was sitting on scraping against the floor, practically toppling over as he hopped out of it and ran into your arms.

“Oof!” You grunted as his arms wrapped around you, his face digging into your stomach. “Miss me?”

He nodded against your stomach.

“You have a great kid.” Sam said, sitting in his spot at the table your son had just been at, coffee in hand. “Your daughter too, but this one gives me a kick.”

“Yeah?” You asked chuckling and as soon as you did your son pulled away from your embrace.

“I was so scared ‘cause I thought that those guys killed you, but then Dad came back with Captain America and Black Widow and then we came here and-” Your son began rambling, throwing his arms in the air wildly. “And then yesterday Captain America let me fly-”

“You took my son flying?” Bucky asked Sam beside you.

“Depends on what you consider flying.” Sam shrugged taking another sip of coffee.

“-and then I got to play with the shield and it’s so cool, Mom!” Grant finished saying, catching his breath.

“Wow buddy that sounds... dangerous.” You said eyeing Sam while ruffling your son’s hair. “But I’m glad you had fun!”

Just then you heard the door on the far side of the room open, Natasha emerging with your daughter in her arms. The first to move was Bucky making his way over to Natasha, taking his girl into his arms and bringing her over to you.

“Hi sleepy girl.” You cooed, reaching out for your daughter who had clearly just woken up from a nap.

When your hands met her skin, however, she quickly pulled way from your touch, curling more into her father’s chest.

“Your hands are too cold, Mommy.”

Practically feeling your heart shatter in your chest, you looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes just as downcast as yours. Pulling yourself away from your daughter, you clasped your hands together, biting back the pain that you felt from her rejection.

Noticing how you began backing away, Bucky frantically took his daughter’s hand in his vibranium one, staring down at her.

“C’mon your mom’s hands aren’t that cold, right?” He asked. “What about mine. You always say my metal one is cold, right bug?”

Resting her head against his chest, she shook her head.

“Buck, it’s fine. She's right.” You eased, backing away from everyone towards the door. “Does anybody else feel hot in here? It’s really hot. I think I’m just gonna take a breather outside-”

“Y/n-” Bucky called.

“It’s okay, I’m just gonna slip outside real quick.”You said, pulling on the handle of the door and swinging it open. “I’ll be right back.”

Before anybody could protest further, you stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind you. As you walked down the hallway, you were realizing for the first time that you didn’t recognize this place and you didn’t know where you were going. The more you thought about it, you barely recognized anything anymore and you didn’t know where you were going to go from where you were right now.

How did you end up here? How did you go from having some guy across the bar from you catch your eye to pacing down the hallways of the Avengers Compound, ice flowing through your veins? Frustrated, tired and confused, you felt a sob you didn’t even realize was there catch in your throat. Throwing your hand to your mouth, you leaned against the hallway wall, feeling tears begin to fog your vision.

“Y/n?” Bucky called, following you down the hallway. “You know Becca’s weird like that sometimes. She just woke up and was tired and cranky-”

“James, it’s fine.” You said.

After a brief pause, you heard his voice again, the tone more shaky than the last.

“Y/n...”

“Buck I said-”

“Y/n watch out!” He shouted.

Shooting away from the wall, your head darted to the big windows at the end of the hall, an unfamiliar object coming straight towards them from the outside.

Before you could even have time to discern what was happening, you watched as the glass of the large windows shattered across the hallway and heard them hit the floor, small bits nicking your skin along the way. You listened as loud beeps emitted from the device, growing quicker by the second. 

Snapping your attention back to Bucky, both of your eyes wide, the last thing you recalled was the feeling of his hands securing the back of your head and your lower back as you fell to the ground.

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (arranged marriage Au)

Part 1 is here, finally! Title a reference to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Read it on Ao3 HERE

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Vesemir’s slap hit Geralt firmly on the back of the head. Two seconds previously Geralt had been complaining about his upcoming, politically motivated marriage to some nobleman’s son. 

“It’s a good thing, lad. Other witcher schools would kill for something like this,” he said. Geralt knew it was right, legal punishment for those who shortchanged or attacked witchers. It set a precedent, and apparently the earl was very influential. It could change things.

“And there isn’t a fidelity clause,” Eskel said. “It doesn’t have to be more than a sort of partnership.”

“No consummation requirement either,” sniggered Lambert from the other side of the campfire. “You don’t even have to fuck the bugger if he’s ugly.” This earned him a sharp elbow from Eskel. 

“What I don’t understand is what they get out of this,” Geralt said. It had been bugging him. 

“Ah,” Vesemir said, looking uneasy. “It seems that the payment is...taking the viscount off of the Earl��s hands, officially. It seems he’s something of an embarrassment.”

The unease in Vesemir’s voice was subtle, but after so many decades with their teacher, the wolves of Kaer Morhen knew the slight variations of tone and expression. His discomfort was twofold, first, the obvious implication that the Earl was sending his son to live a dangerous life alongside a witcher in order to...deal with him. A death sentence, from father to son. The second was that Geralt, already saddled with a political marriage, was also to be saddled with a nuisance of a husband. 

“But why me?” Geralt knew he was whining like a child, but he couldn’t help it. It was three days to Lettenhove, and then they’d be there at least a week for the wedding and he’d have to act courtly. 

He wasn’t good at courtly.

When he thought about it none of them were. 

“It couldn’t have been me,” Eskel said, a little shyly. He was right. Eskel believed his scars were horrible, made him unlovable and undesirable. Geralt didn’t buy it, but nobles could get a bit stroppy about appearances. And if they humiliated Eskel because of his scarring...no, Geralt wouldn’t let that happen.

“Couldn’t have been me,” Lambert said, mouth full and rather cheerfully. No. It couldn’t have been him either, no manners and no filter, they’d be at war with the entirety of Lettenhove within a day.

“And I’m an old man,” Vesemir said. He didn’t actually wink, but he might as well have. Older though he was, he was still three times the warrior of any young human man walking about these days. But from what Geralt had heard, and it hadn’t been much, the Viscount was young, not quite twenty, and it wouldn’t be kind to marry him to someone so much older than himself. Geralt reflected grimly that he was nearly four times the youth’s age.

Three days of riding passed far too quickly for Geralt’s liking.

Chateau de Lettenhove loomed. It was a fairytale castle built by a man expecting a siege. There were high, rising towers with huge windows and artful buttresses, but to the trained eye of the witchers, it was a fortress. The towers had carved, decorative arrow slits, the windows all had iron grates over them, wrought like lace, and the buttresses could be easily used as defensive positions. All in all, it was a castle that growled, albeit genteelly.

They were greeted first by a footman, and then a line of servants increasing in rank, until a very snobby servant, likely the head housekeeper from the way all the maids scuttled away from her, brought them to an anteroom. At this point courtesy dictated that she bade them sit down on one of the lavish sofas. She did not. She chose instead to turn up her nose and sweep away.

The four witchers remained standing, not looking at one another. Geralt could feel Lambert stewing about the obvious slight beside him. He reached out, still staring straight ahead, and tweaked Lambert’s ear. 

This was about to result in much brotherly retribution and probably a brawl when the housekeeper returned, followed by another woman.

“His lordship the Earl of Lettenhove is attending to vital business,” the housekeeper said, tone of voice implying that the arrival of four witchers who were muddying her nice clean floor were certainly not vital. “I present, her ladyship, Countess Amaria Elizaveta de Lettenhove.” 

The countess curtsied, it was a polite little bob, and she smiled a little dazedly as the witchers all gave their best attempt at courtly bows. A small but significant part of Geralt’s brain was panicking, and it dealt with this new form of terror by imagining that the school of the wolf, seen from the outside plying their newly practiced bows, must look like a line of seagulls vying for a dropped crumb.

Vesemir stepped forward and, in a rather more suave gesture than Geralt had been expecting, took the Countess’ hand and bowed over it. Two bows seemed excessive to Geralt, but since it seemed to indicate that Vesemir would be taking over the speaking for now, he certainly wasn’t about to bring it up. 

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Vesemir said, straightening and releasing her hand. “May I introduce the school of the wolf. Eskel is--”

The countess had waved a limp hand. “Plenty of time for that at the feast, deary,” she said, smiling dreamily. There was something in her eyes that was a little absent, possibly more than a little if her calling Vesemir ‘deary’ was anything to go by. Geralt looked the countess over. He had been given to understand through the brief letters from the Lettenhove estate, that this wasn’t the viscount-Julian, the letters said-’s mother, but rather his step mother. She was a petite lady with mousy hair and rather absent blue eyes. Her dress was obviously of very fine material, rose pink and probably silk, although Lambert would know better than him, but a simpler cut than Geralt had expected. 

His examination, done in a split second, decided that she wasn’t an immediate enemy, but probably not a terrible useful ally. 

“I’m to give you this courting gift,” here she proffered a small but beautifully carved wooden box. “And to show you to your quarters.” She smiled again, and it was warm, but still vapid.

“Custom usually dictates that the fiancé give the courting gift,” Vesemir said, cautiously taking the box.”

“My husband wanted someone else to present it,” she said. “But your grandson can give his gift in person when he meets Julian. Now what...” she trailed off, not even noticing Vesemir’s slight sputter at grandson. “Ah yes, your rooms, right this way please.”

She got lost on the way to their rooms and a shaking footman showed them up to a suite, then kindly took her by the hand and led her away.

They sat, silent, in the nice but not lavish quarters. Four beds in curtained alcoves off to the side, and in the middle a room with a table and chairs, and a sofa and more comfortable chairs in front of a fireplace. It was already blazing and the witchers stared into it for a minute.

“That was strange,” Eskel finally said, and the others just nodded.

“Should I have insisted on giving her our courting gift?” Geralt said after another pause. “I thought they were usually given in person.”

“I think you’re fine,” Vesemir said. “If they broke that tradition they can hardly fault you for doing the same.”

Lambert, sprawled across the sofa, said, “When’s dinner?”

“I think I’m supposed to meet Julian first,” Geralt said. “Someone will probably come get us. 

“When we meet Julian you mean,” Lambert said, sitting up. 

“No, I’ve been thinking about that and I want to meet him alone.”

Vesemir nodded, “Sensible, we don’t know how he will react to one witcher, let alone four.” Then he smirked, although not unkindly, at Lambert. “You will be introduced and have a chance to be nosy later. At dinner perhaps.”

They unpacked their belongings, potion bottles and swords looking out of place along the old but nicely carved furniture. After days of tension on the road as Geralt wound himself tighter and tighter with anxiety for his...wedding, yes his wedding, now this pause was jarring. Eskel tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a look.

Geralt turned around to give Eskel room to work.

On the Path, witchers are rarely, if ever touched. Certainly not in a friendly way if the other isn’t being compensated. It wasn’t therefore, unusual for the wolves of Kaer Morhen to be tactile with one another. Not hugging and cuddling sweetly, but rough housing and wrestling ending in exhausted dog piles. But Eskel had a gift, he had magic hands, literally and figuratively, and he carefully oiled his hands while Geralt took off his travel stained shirt. 

Geralt sunk into himself, half meditating as Eskel dragged the tension from his shoulders and beat the knots from his muscles. It wasn’t a relaxing massage, but it always left him feeling like liquid, if slightly bruised. When it was over and the liquid feeling had left him, or at least subsided enough that his knees could hold him, he stood, clapping Eskel on the shoulder in thanks.

Then came the hard bit.

Geralt needed to be courtly. He scrubbed the bits he could with water and a cloth from a little washstand, but he hoped he could have a hot bath later. Afterwards Vesemir advanced on him and battled the dirt from underneath his fingernails with a stiff brush before attacking his hair with a comb. Geralt sat on the ground like a child, his brothers looking on in amusement as Vesemir sat behind him on the couch and teased the tangles from his hair. He was making faces, he knew, but Vesemir wasn’t gentle, and he hadn’t detangled his hair in some time.

Scrubbed raw, with his hair floating around his shoulders like a silver cloud, Lambert presented him with a doublet. 

It was black, which was good.

That was the only good thing about it. It was most likely a very nice, extremely fashionable doublet. Lambert might take delight in embarrassing Geralt, but he didn’t mess about with clothing. The issue was that it was attention grabbing, it was subtle in a way that seemed to play itself down while actually drawing every eye. It was black, in the same way a raven’s wing was black, every shimmering shade shifting as the fabric moved.

And he would be wearing it. 

He did wear it. 

His hands shook as he buttoned it up. 

He was just examining himself in a slightly tarnished hand mirror when there was a sharp knock at the door. The footman let himself in right after and bowed swiftly. 

“I am to escort the witchers of Kaer Morhen to meet Lord Julian.”

“Just the one witcher,” Geralt said. Vesemir pressed his courting gift, and the little carved boxed nestled on top, into his arms.

The footman didn’t seem to care and simply turned away, leading Geralt through hallways that all looked the same and down two very winding staicases, the second of which was so narrow his shoulders actually brushed the walls. They stopped outside a plain wooden door. The footman bowed and smiled. It looked, Geralt couldn’t help but feel, rather cruel. Then he left. Geralt knocked softly on the door, feeling very large in the narrow, low ceilinged hallway.

Eskel had told him once of a myth he had read, about a beast, half man half bull, hidden away in a maze. Geralt felt like such a beast, too large and rough and probably going to barge in and do everything wrong.

“Come in.” 

It was soft, but not nervous, and Geralt pushed open the door. 

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

Oooh I’m naughty for leaving it there, but it’s almost 2000 words already. @llamasdumpsterfire here it is at last, I hope it lives up to expectations.

[karaboutmyart]

hi! day 2 back from my tumblr dot com hiatus and I watched ice age for the first time in ten years.

if you don't know what ice age is, it is about a mammoth, a sloth, and a saber tooth tiger going the opposite direction of migration (so like north, where it is cold and ice) to return their beloved baby to his "herd" (his tribe). obviously all taking place during the ice age.

overall, the movie was... ok, I guess. the animation? absolutely horrendous. but pretty ahead of it's time. the story? WHY DO I LIKE IT THIS MUCH.

(the jokes were RLLY cheesy tho)

ok onto the post. I am not sorry

here is all of the homoromantic undertones that I gathered in the 2002 animated movie 'ice age'

•   ok, so in the beginning there is literally 2 male rhinos who share a salad together and one saves the dandelion for the other. they r practically background characters but CLEARLY husbands

•   sid:  "you have beautiful eyes :)"

    manfred:   "get off of me >:("

•   sid calling manfred 'manny' affectionately

•   they find the baby and immediately have this sort of. yknow. married couple energy

•    diego makes this known by saying, and I LITERALLY quote, "'Us'? You two are a bit of an odd couple." and then when manfred says that 'there is no us' he says, "I see. can't have one of your own, so you want to adopt." (diego says gay rights)

•    (immediately after diego says this, manfred and sid go on to argue like a married couple.)

•     now they r all together!! baby starts crying. sid has to be responsible to shut it up like the male-wife he is.

•     they ALL take turns trying to cheer the baby up

•     (LITERALLY ACTING LIKE NEWLY WEDS WITH A NEWBORN, I KID YOU NOT)

•     "his nose is dry, that means something's wrong." "he's wearing one of those baby thingjes" "so?" "if he poops, where does it go?" ".......humans are disgusting." "I bet he's hungry. how about some milk?" "I'd love some" "NOT YOU. the baby."

•      they all, as a team, fight a whole troop of dodos to get food for their baby

•     sid:  "how about a good-night kiss, for your big buddy sid?"

      manfred: "he (the baby)'s asleep."

      sid:  "I was talking to you."

      manfred:

•    sid shows off their beloved baby to some lady sloths

•     manfred does not like this.

•     diego practically saves sid's life by pretending that he killed him (and has this look of nervousness/concern when it almost doesn't work)

•     CUE THE ENTIRE MONTAGE OF THE FAMILY TRAVELLING

•     yknow that thing in movies where the wife is like "we're lost ask the guy for directions" and the husband denies it? this literally happens between manfred and sid.

•     they play charades with a squirrel. diego flicks him into the sun to Burn.

•     cue the iconic slide scene that lasts for like idk two or three minutes straight. diego breaks character and gets pumped up. manfred and sid stare at him like "dude we almost lost our kid r u nuts"

•     manfred has this. revelation after realizing that he has been missing a family in his life and comes to terms with the fact that, oh my god, I need to get this baby back home.

•      he immediately becomes SUCH a dad after that

•     Manfred saves Diego's life and diego is like. oh my god. I love these guys. and this whole time he has been leading them into a trap to kill them

•      manfred almost dies. diego RLLY feels shitty after that

•      sid creates fire. "from now on, you can refer to me as Sid, Lord of the Flame. from now on I will call you Diego,"

       diego: "lord of touch me and you're dead."

       diego:  ".....NAH I'm just kidding you little knucklehead <3"

•      manfred calls diego and sid lovebirds.

•      baby takes his first steps, and they all share this tender, loving look between one another :))

•      "look at that, our little guy is growing up."

•      once manfred goes to sleep, sid and diego gush over him. "I've never had a friend who would risk his life for me." "yeah, manny's a good guy :)"

•      then comes the part where diego leads them into the trap and he feels awful and nervous about it.

•      manfred gets angry. >:(( but diego feels rlly bad and wants to save them :((

•      the other saber tooths come. sid tricks them into thinking he is holding the baby. and when they find out he isn't, he runs away.

•     he goes to where the baby actually is. gentle little sid moment..

•     manfred gets cornered by diego and the leader of the tigers. diego turns on his leader to save his husband.

•      diego risks his life like how manfred risked his. almost dies. he tells sid and manfred to leave him and get the baby to his family :((

•     "we were some team, huh?"

•     diego to the baby: "you gotta be strong. you have to take care of manfred and sid. especially sid."

•     manfred and sid take the baby home. tender moment. sid and manfred are both sad to see him go :((

•     "don't forget about us, ok? we won't forget about you."

•     SURPRISE diego ends up living!! sid runs to him, relieved.

•     "you're ok!"

       "nine lives, baby"

       "you're ok. I could kiss ya!"

•     (if I remember correctly, sid does kiss diego's head multiple times)

•     manfred asks diego if he needs to hitch a ride. ends up giving sid a ride instead.

•     ends the movie with something about sid saying that it will be the best migration ever and then something about global warming idk!

[lubdubsworld]

Madeira.  ( Taehyung x OC) Part 1/2

Genre : Angst, Sexually Explicit Content. 

Kim Taehyung x OC 

 Cop Au! 

Married Taehyung x Oc! ( Estranged ) 

Cop Taehyung! Bartender Oc ! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N : This is my spin on the brother’s best friend trope. I wrote this for @ladyartemesia​ Who made the amazing banner for the fic..

Because of one of her posts :D :D But I hope all of you enjoy it. 

Also listen , i was supposed to write a simple brother’s best friend fic , maybe playful fluff and mild angst and some smut but  this thing snowballed into a plot monster and now here we are. 

This is part 1. 

Part 2 soon :) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So... that husband of yours is still missing, huh?" The man leaning against the bar smelled like sewage. 

There really was no other word for it. 

He smelled like he’d been drenched in the water that usually ran down the streets, whenever the heavens opened and poured a fucking deluge on us. Like he’d taken a soak in the disgusting broth of decaying produce, discarded animal entrails and everyday garbage. You know, the kind of stuff you find in the market street of a small town.

I ignored him, exhaling sharply and dragging the rag across the counter again, this time with a little more force behind it to make up for the urge to wrap my hands around the fucker’s neck. 

Not the man leaning on the bar that is.  

The man who had abandoned me. 

Kim fucking Taehyung. 

My breath shuddered out of me ,  a headache blooming inside my skull at the very thought of him. it was kind of unwarranted, I guess because it really wasn’t perfect Kim Taehyung’s fault that his wife of five years and seven months hadn’t seen him in ...well, five years and six months. 

Fuck. 

But see he wasn’t missing from my life by design. 

He certainly hadn’t intended to leave me alone because , well for one, he loved me. and two, his best friend aka my big brother Park Jimin would skin him alive if he tried something like that. 

They were best friends, bosom buddies since kinder garten and the only time they’d ever fought was when Jimin had walked in on me choking on Kim Taehyung’s dick in our coat closet at the age of seventeen ( 19 in Taehyung’s case) . 

Taehyung had sported a black eye for two whole weeks. 

So you see, Taehyung wouldn’t just leave me without reason, not unless he wanted to be castrated by my brother. 

No. 

The reason Kim Taehyung wasn’t around was because he had taken up an assignment, an undercover assignment a month after our wedding. 

An assignment that was supposed to last two months. Except it hadn’t and now, it had been a whole five and a half years since I’d seen the man I loved. 

Kim fucking Taehyung. 

See, Taehyung was a detective. 

A brilliant, A- class detective in Seoul PD’s Narcotics Division and he had a reputation. 

 A reputation as one of the most ruthless, merciless men on the force. 

Taehyung had a mind that worked like no other, somehow able to predict exactly how drug dealers moved, how the shipments were going to be smuggled. He could tell where the deal was going to go down, what kind of security measures they would be up against and the most intriguing of all :  just what drug a person had taken, simply from staring into their damn eyes .

 It wasn’t uncommon for his cop buddies to comment how lucky the country was, that Kim Taehyung had chosen to be on this side of the law . 

So Kim Taehyung’s reputation as a brilliant detective was well earned and that was why,  when people heard his reputation and  then  met him, they were always stunned. 

Because, for someone with such a terrifying aura , Taehyung looked deceptively.....well ethereal was the word. Beautiful was another. So fucking gorgeous  he could make angels cry. 

But Taehyung didn’t just look like a fucking angel. He acted like one. He acted like he had been sent on earth, simply to fight every bad guy in the city and while I had been proud and amazed and suitably enthralled with his prowess in the beginning, the fact that he had chosen to just leave me , really fucking hurt. 

It hurt that the boy i had grown up with , the boy who had been my first everything hadn’t thought twice about leaving me behind. About leaving everything we had spent a whole decade building , behind just because he couldn’t control the urge to save the fucking world.

Every damn time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The water in my parents’ home was often murky and I had to let it run for a few minutes, before sticking the bucket underneath the tap. I watched the water turn clearer, cupping my palms underneath the flow watching it run clear. I nudged the bucket with my foot , under the tap and the sound of the water hitting the cheap plastic filled the cramped bathroom, loud and jarring. 

I leaned against the chipped blue tiles, fingers shaking as I clenched them into fists. I had moved year about nine months after Taehyung had left, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to be coming back anytime soon and it became hard, paying the rent for our modest apartment in Itaewon. 

Jimin had offered to help, offered to let me move in with him and his wife Irene,  but he had been newly married as well, with a baby on the way. And i just couldn’t do that to him. I’d called my parents, explained that Taehyung and I were taking a break and could I move in for a while?

My parents had been stunned. 

A break after ten months of marriage? what had happened? 

I’d kept my mouth shut because everything was a security risk. I couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t cry or complain or seek comfort in my mother’s gentle words. Instead i’d spent the days, locked up in my childhood bedroom, pouring over my journals, my keepsakes and photos, reliving the years I’d spent, loving and learning and cherishing Taehyung. 

First kiss in his garage at the age of fifteen  , laughing over a failed skateboard trick. How he’d grinned at me, watching me whine over the scrape on my knee, how he’d stared up at me through the sweat damp bangs on his forehead as he’d knelt on the floor, sticking a bandaid over the scrape and then instead of moving away as usual, he mad moved  in,  brushed his lips against mine, stole the breath out of my lung , the soul out of my body . 

And Those first two years of denial....when he would practically run out of the door if i so much as breathed in his direction. 

“You’re Jimin’s sister.. I can’t...” 

God often he’d said that...over and over again until the words lost all meaning for me. I had wanted him so blindly. Had fought any girl who so much as looked at him and every one of my girlfriends  knew to stay clear off Kim Taehyung. 

The whispers, anytime someone showed an interest on the most handsome boy in school. 

Yes, he is gorgeous, yes he is smart and amazing but he belongs to  her.  She’ll kill you if you come near him. 

I’d enjoyed it. I enjoyed knowing that everyone could see that he belonged with me, even if Taehyung himself didn’t . 

And me at seventeen, watching him talk about leaving .... How he was going to join the police academy and become a cop and that had been the final straw. I’d all but barrelled into his home and kissed him. 

Told him in no uncertain terms that he was not going anywhere without telling me he loved me. And if he didn’t , I wanted him to swear he would never regret it. That when , years from now, he saw me walking down the aisle with some other guy, he would stand in the wedding party, next to my actual brother and not regret that he let me go. 

Taehyung had kissed me back with fervor that still made my lips tingle. 

And that last week before he left, when we had spent all our waking hours, either having sex or thinking about having sex. How we’d christened every surface of our parents’  house , our rooms and finally the coat closet after one particularly tense game of truth and dare. 

That was a memorable one because my brother had walked in, just as Taehyung had gripped my hair hard enough to bruise and shoved his ‘ big by any standards’ dick straight down my throat. 

Talk about embarrassing. 

And it had taken a whole lot of begging and cajoling and promises to not have sex till we were married, for my brother to come around.

But he had. 

And for five glorious years, I had been Kim Taehyung’s girlfriend. Watched him climb the ranks at seoul PD with a speed that was amazing. Watching him become the youngest detective on the force... watched him carve a reputation for himself in the Narcotic department.

And one evening, having dinner in a posh restaurant with our family and friends, I had watched him get down on his knees , a small velvet box in his hand  eyes practically sparkling with love as he stared at me. 

“The only one you’re walking down the aisle with is me, sweetheart.” He had rasped, over the raucous cheering of all the most important people in our lives. 

But the joy had been short lived. 

Just a month after our wedding Taehyung had taken up the assignment. Just two months, he had promised. I’ll be back in two months baby. I love you so damn much, you know that....

I had said it was okay. it wasn’t but i had said. Had promised to wait for him. To keep myself safe. 

Two months had turned to two years. Two years had turned to three. Three to four and four to five. 

Lonely. I was so lonely. 

Even living with my parents, the solitude had been unbearable. The ache from not being touched by him . The ache from not being able to touch him. From not having that boxy smile to greet me in the morning. Not running my fingers through his hair as he left hickeys all over me. Not having him over me, staring down at me,  eyes heavy and hard as he fucked into me.

I missed him so fiercely it was a physical ache. An intense , hollow ache filled with anxiety and longing. 

And terror.

Oh god I was so terrified. 

The fear was all encompassing somedays and I had to bite down on my pillows just to stop myself from giving in to hysteria. To start sobbing, uncontrollably because the thought would come out of nowhere, bowling me over in it’s intensity. 

The burning fear that perhaps he was hurt. 

That perhaps he was no longer of this world and i would never even know. That perhaps right this moment he was lying in some abandoned warehouse, bleeding out , thinking of me, wishing he could see me and he was just going to die alone . And I would never know. 

I spoke to Jimin on the phone to Jimin every weekend. But sometimes, once every three or four weeks, Jimin called in the day. 

We would exchange small talk. 

And then he would say, 

“Had a glass of madeira last night.”  “ spoke to Taehyung’s handler last night. 

I would grip the phone hard, brace myself for the good , the bad or the ugly that was to come. 

“Tasted great. Was thinking of you.”  He’s fine. He misses you. He loves you. 

“Okay. Thank you Jimin.” 

And that was that. 

The sound of the water spilling over drew me to the present and i blinked, staring down at the water flooding the bathroom, the drainhole struggling to get rid of the excess water. 

The house was deserted. 

My parents had died a year ago. And now it was just me. 

I swallowed , shaking my head before grabbing the hem of my dress and stripping. 

Shower.

And then bed. 

Alone. 

Always so fucking alone. 

The phone rang then and i groaned. 

God, I hated having to leave the shower to attend calls but the reception here was terrible and I could only get calls if I left the phone on the small table by the bed. 

Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my torso, I stumbled out into the dimply lit bedroom, reaching for my phone. 

I couldn’t recognize the number and I frowned, before accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Yerin?” 

Every hair on my body stood on end and my body curned hot and then went icy cold really really fast. 

“T-T-Tae??” I whispered, gripping the phone so hard my fingers went number. 

Five years later and his voice was so different. Deep and raspy and exhausted and I couldn’t make sense of it. Was this real? Was i having a fever dream? Had i fell in the shower and hit my head? 

“Hey baby.” He chuckled. 

“Is this real? Is it you?” I whispered, confused and my head spinning and my vision fading a little. 

“Yeah. “ He coughed a bit and i panicked. “ I’m back. “

I froze. 

“Wh-What?”

“I’m back. I’m home. I’m .... I’m back.” 

I stared at the wall, too stunned to process what I was hearing. 

I could hear his voice through the phone but I couldn’t respond. 

Staring at the screen , I hung up. 

And then, I finally gave in to the hysterics. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[colossalcriminal]

Love and War - s.r

Pairing: InfinityWar!Steve Rogers x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve decides it's the perfect opportunity to propose- while they're fighting Thanos' army.

Content Warnings: War, Thanos' ugly ass children. Also, I can't remember what happened during the Wakanda battle, sorry. ALSO I REALISE I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO WRITE BATTLE SCENES? WHAT VOCAB GOES INTO THAT IDK

Thanks for the idea @meganemily231

Thor had already made his grand entrance, providing a sense of relief to the Avengers as they continued to fend off the atrocity of Thanos' army.

Y/N's searched the battlefield after successfully killing whatever alien Thanos had recruited, eyes landing on a sight she wasn't happy to see. Sprinting towards it, heartbeat loud in her ears, stomach pounding after receiving a hard blow. It wasn't long before she ripped the creature away from Steve, killing it with the little energy she had left. "Thanks, sweetheart." He panted.

She scoffed, helping him up. "Almost died and all I get is a thanks?" She joked, instantly getting back into a fighter's mindset as she stood back to back with him, Outriders hounding them, only to be thrown back or killed.

"Then how about you marry me?"

Stabbing another one, Y/N gasped, head snapping towards the blond. "Is now really the best time?"

Steve grunted, throwing his fist. "I think now might be the only time." He gripped her arm, spinning her into his chest, flinging off another Outrider in the process. "I love you. I've waited 6 years, and I don't want to wait another second. What do you say?"

Lips breaking out into a grin, she nodded, calling out. "Thor! You busy?"

"Just a little!" The god responded.

"You mind marrying us?"

"Hold on a minute!"

The pair split from their embrace, continuing the routine of war. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, can I skip this? I'm going to skip it." He rambled.

Steve sighed, finishing his own activity before placing Y/N's hand in his. "Y/N L/N, do you take me to be your husband?"

Their massive smiles were a stark contrast to the battlefield around them. "I do!"

"That's great!" The super soldier smiled proudly, watching his to-be-wife practically slaughter an Outrider before joining him again.

"Steve Rogers," Hands still interlocked, small groans left there lips as they repelled the danger around them with weapons. "do you take me to be your wife? In sickness and in health, oh shit."

The response was delayed as they were both too busy basically fighting for their lives, but Steve got their eventually. "I do."

"And I now pronounce you super soldier and wife. You may kiss," Thor announced, swinging storm breaker around, struggling to finish the sentence. "Just kiss, already."

The couple almost, key word almost, joined for their first kiss as husband and wife. The act of affection was interrupted by none other than the ugly creature that'd been hounding them since Steve's proposal.

The 'animal' was down within seconds, thanks to Bucky, and his gun, who offered the newly weds a small smile and a nod before running off.

Steve gripped Y/N's waste, pulling her in with such a force, chests bumping together and lips meeting in a soft, passionate kiss. "I love you." She panted.

"I love you more, Mrs. Rogers."

And just like that, they were pulled back into real life.

[thefanficmonster]

will you do an oompaville x reader.? like maybe one where you’re at a wedding with him and he asks you to dance.?

Omg an oompaville request!!! I'm so grateful dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request, please enjoy the one-shot 🥰

Perfect Sync

Pairing: Oompaville (Caleb) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

There are certain pros and cons to being so distanced from your extended family. And I mean DISTANCED, in all capitals. I actually live in a completely different state on the completely opposite side of the US and yet I still somehow got an invitation to my cousin's wedding. To be fair, it's not that surprising, seeing as how she's the only cousin I have comprehendible memories with from my childhood. She's a really sweet girl - no, woman - and it kinda sucks that we haven't had the chance to catch up in so long.

Among the many other cons is the fact that I don't know a single person at this wedding. Not. A. Single. Person. Sure, there have been several elderly and middle aged couples who've approached me, claiming they know me and given me a huge hug, asking me how my parents were doing. Speaking of my parents, they are a pair of sneaks who avoided coming to the wedding themselves saying they were stuck with a stomach virus while they're actually vacationing in Canada. How wonderful of them, don't you think?

They are chilling in Canada and I'm over here boiling and sweating over my third, possibly forth glass of champagne of the evening, not to mention the wedding hasn't even properly started yet. Count on me switching to whiskey when it does.

Sitting at the table I was pointed to upon arrival, I let my gaze skim over the immense garden decorated with beautiful flowers, fairy lights and handmade décor pieces. Each table and bar is under a white tent, just like the one I’m currently sitting under. It’s a beautiful sight and I can only imagine it’s only gonna get even prettier when the sun finally sets completely and all these fairy lights come on. That’s one of the few good things about my attendance at this event today. The ‘good’ things have been so little in number I can probably count them on the fingers of one hand: 1.I briefly saw and chatted with my cousin who was practically trembling out of excitement, anxiety and happiness. Good for her; 2. I’ve downed so many drinks that would probably cost me a fortune at a club or bar and I’m decently buzzed. Very cool; 3. I made friends with one of the bridesmaids because I had time to kill - turns out she wanted to be at this wedding as much as me: not at all; 4. I caught a whiff of the dinner which was still being cooked and damn am I excited about it; 5. The garden is absolutely breathtaking and it’s a sight worth sticking around for. See, as I said, few enough good things to be able to count them on the fingers of one hand.

And what about that cute guy from earlier?, my subconsciousness nudges me teasingly, causing me to almost evidently roll my eyes.

The hot guy being referred to right now is the one I damn near ran over when I was pulling up to this fancy estate. In my defense, I’m still getting used to the rental car I got when I landed in Texas two days ago, and plus he came out of literally nowhere. Luckily, he wasn’t mean or upset about it, took it quite lightly which was relieving and surprising. 

Not gonna lie though, he was really cute.

I see the people all over the garden hurriedly take a seat when it gets announced that the newly weds are about to have their first dance. I cross my legs, finishing the champagne in one go before I can focus my attention on the lovely couple that’s just stepped out of the mansion-like house and onto the soft grass of the lawn, slowly making their way towards the center where they’re supposed to have the dance - aka where everyone will be dancing afterwards too.

Everyone but me, I’ll be busy chilling by the bar, hopefully in the company of that bridesmaid who I can crack jokes with without feeling guilty.

The two dance in perfect sync, their movements almost mesmerizing to the human eye. I’m no professional dancer but I don’t have two left feet either, yet I’m still amazed by this perfection before me. I bet all the cash I took with me from New York - which is a lot, I expected to spend a lot - that they’ve practiced this more than once. Or at least I hope they have as to make me feel better about my own skills - or the lack thereof.

“I take it you’re a lot less dangerous when you’re not behind the wheel.“ A quiet comment emerges next to my ear, loud enough for me to hear but hushed as to not disturb the couple nor the mob of people watching them in awe.

My eyebrows shoot up. I’ve maybe heard that voice only once before but that teasing tone made me blush like mad earlier and that’s hard to forget. I have a hard time forgetting embarrassment.

Biting my lip, I slowly turn to face him, “I can’t guarantee, there are plenty of sharp objects around after all.“

There’s that same wide smile I saw earlier when my entire life flashed before my eyes. His probably did too but unlike me, he didn’t show it. “Some luck I have sitting next to you then.“ He chuckles, handing me a glass of whiskey. I take it hesitantly, giving him a suspiciously raised eyebrow. “You look like you could use one.“ He shrugs, taking a sip of his own. When my expression doesn’t change and I don’t make a move to ingest the beverage, he rolls his eyes, “Yeah I’m someone you’re seeing for the second time in your life, and yeah you might think I could want revenge for my nearly damaged health, but I don’t. And if you don’t want the whiskey...” he reaches to take it back but I quickly put it up to my lips and take a long sip, causing him to smile. “There you go!”

Oh boy does the taste of whiskey hit different after sipping on champagne for hours. I nod to him in gratitude. “Thanks, I strongly appreciate this.”

He nods back, his smile now a smaller one but still preserving the same amount of joy as when it was a full-blown grin, “I’m Caleb, by the way.”

“Y/N, nice to meet you.“ I reply, feeling the tension in my shoulders easing and the embarrassed blush fading. This guy just has such a chill aura, it’s nice being in his company. Hell, I’ll even go as far as to say if I simply had to almost hit someone with my car today, I’m glad it was him.

As more and more people emerge from their seats, heading hand in hand to the dancefloor to join the newlyweds, I finish my whiskey and am contemplating on going to get myself another but before I can decide, Caleb arises from his seat as well. He takes a stand in front of me, offering me his hand, “Well, there’s very little damage you can do you me out on the dancefloor, right?” He chuckles when he sees he’s made me blush again - third time today, damn it - but then he assumes a more serious facial expression, his smile never faltering though, “Care to accompany me for a dance, Y/N?”

I pretend to think the offer over, weighing my options and its pros and cons when in reality I dam near accepted the same second he asked. “Hmm, ok...“ I say finally, resting my hand in his, “That is, if you promise not to step on my feet. These are some expensive shoes I’m wearing.“

He lets out a genuine laugh as he leads us to the dancefloor, one that I’ll admit is hella contagious, “Says the person who almost ran my ass over earlier. Am I not expensive, huh?”

I give him a confused look, hiding fits of laughter, “I don’t know, Caleb. Are you?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, best offer you’d get for me on Craigslist is like, a dollar? Two if you’re lucky.”

And that’s all it takes to break the dam holding back my laughter, sending me in fits of giggles as we start dancing. My laughter ends just as quickly as it starts though when I realize how in-sync our dancing is. Perfectly synchronized. 

Huh, wonder why, that annoying voice pokes at my peace again. But I don’t let it get to me. Not now at least. I’m just gonna enjoy this moment, dancing with a practical stranger, gazing into his warm and welcoming eyes.

Suddenly I need another hand to count the good things about this wedding since I have to add three new points: 6. Almost hitting Caleb with my car; 7. Officially meeting Caleb; 8. Dancing with him.

Dancing with him in perfect sync

Oh, shut it, I don’t wanna start blushing again.