#@moose-squirrel-asstiel

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The Alliance

Summary: Princess (Y/N)'s hunt has finally come, and Ivar has more than a country to explore.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

A/N: I know I haven't been uploading and I'm sorry, I've been working and this story in particular requires a LOT of research (like literally so much). That said please enjoy this chapter, remember if its bold that means it is spoken in the foreign language. This chapter does include a hunting scene so trigger warning if it applies.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Taglist:

The celebration of Princess (Y/N)’s homecoming was indeed an event that would be talked about in Tunisia for months, and the Norse travelers would never forget it. The beach, the dancing, the music, the food that was served was all breathtaking and bordering comfortably on the edge of overwhelming.

It was only when the feast was entirely eaten and the performers were physically unable to continue that everyone agreed to retreat to their own homes to rest.

Ivar found himself on the back of his father, he couldn’t fathom hauling his weight on his crutches after he had exhausted all his energy during the festivities. However; it seemed Ragnar had reserved just enough energy to help his youngest son to the palace.

He even carried Ivar’s crutches in his arms as Ivar clung to his back, and Ivar saw how his father’s grip on them left his knuckles pale white.

‘You do not like my crutches.’ he said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them as they lagged behind the royal party on the way back to the castle.

‘I do not like them.’ Ragnar confessed casually.

‘Why?’

‘You do not need them, Ivar; you move slower with them. I can tell it exhausts you and you break more bones by standing upright.’

‘I haven’t bro-’

‘You have.’ Ragnar interrupted the lie, his voice suddenly stern.

‘I am not your mother, I don’t need to see and hear you crying to know when you have pushed your body too far for its limitations. Every time I tried to hold you for the first year of your life I broke a bone in my rough handling.’

At his father’s confession Ivar was left speechless; how many times had his mother drunkenly rambled that as a babe Ivar cried whenever Ragnar picked him up? Of course Ivar had not known why he did this, he was too young, all he knew was his mother was telling the truth about it. Aslaug’s drunken complaining made up a large amount of Ivar’s childhood and sometimes her drunkenness made her dramatize the events but this was one of the few that never changed; Ragnar never spoke of it in front of him.

Not once in all his life.

‘Even the night I left you in the woods, it was your right ankle, it cracked as I tried to swaddle you. I hadn’t intended to leave you that night, I was just trying to hold you and I couldn’t do even that without hurting you.’ Ragnar continued.

‘You must not be used to the palm wine these Tunisians serve, mead has never made you drunk enough to tell me this before.’ Ivar tried weakly to joke.

He hadn’t been prepared to hear this, he had long ago come to accept that he would die without ever having had this conversation with his father.

‘I must not be.’ his father let out a humorless breath of laughter.

‘How do you know when I break a bone? Is it the blue in my eyes?’ Ivar asked.

‘No, son; it is not your eyes, it’s your nose.’

‘My nose?’

‘It scrunches up in a wince whenever a bone breaks, even as a baby before the cries could fall from your lips your nose would give you away. I also know because whenever I see you break a bone I feel it.’ his father confessed.

‘I feel the same sickness rise up in my throat, the same guilt. My guiltiness led me to abandon you, my guilt kept me from loving you. Guilt over how you were born, guilt that my impatience and disregard to your mother’s warning cost you your health.’

Ivar did not need any elaborations on what his father was referencing.

“His mother said he would be a monster.”

“Not even ten and already a killer.”

“There is something not human in him, I just know it.”

“She wasn’t even pregnant yet and she knew he’d be vile and twisted.”

“He even slithers around like the great serpent, he will bring Ragnarok to us all!”

Phrases like these were whispered around him all his life; his mother’s prophecy that if Ragnar had her too soon she would birth him a monster.

‘I do not blame you, or mother, I am not angry with you father. I never have been… I never could be. I-’ Ivar felt like he was physically choking on the words he was trying to say.

It was the first time he’d ever said them out loud before.

‘I love you Father, even if you broke my bones holding me I never wanted you to put me down.’ he said pressing his face into his father’s shoulder, and let Ragnar feel the tears soak into the fabric of his tunic.

‘You do not have to blame me, I will even allow you to be foolish enough to forgive me, but son, I will never forgive myself for the way I treated you. You and your brothers are one of the very few things that keep me in Midgard, and I do not deserve the love and respect you all show me. I have wronged you all, in unforgivable ways.’

‘I have never heard you admit to being wrong.’ Ivar said around the lump that had formed in his throat as he at last got a hold of his emotions.

‘Do not get used to it, it will never happen again and I will deny it if you tell any other living thing.’ his father said, his voice once again becoming lighthearted.

Their emotional conversation had ended, and he knew that neither he nor his father would ever mention it again. Not to each other or to anyone else.

Not even the Princess would hear of this, he would keep this moment selfishly to himself for the rest of his life.

A comfortable silence fell over the two men and lasted until they were finally in the palace, where Ragnar placed his son down and placed the crutches down, sending them a distasteful glance.

Ivar looked over at the others and saw that they were still raving over the festivities and their eagerness for sleep and he looked back to his father.

‘I know I do not need them, father, but I do want them. I want to stand tall among other men, I'm tired of looking up at those I know are beneath me.’ he whispered as he pulled himself up on his crutches.

‘I will not use them forever, I will improve them…and myself.’ he promised.

Ragnar sighed and placed a sudden, unexpected kiss on Ivar’s temple and whispered into his ear in confidence.

‘You will be a man to be feared one day, Ivar the Boneless. Your broken body will never be able to contain your mind and violence.’

With those last words Ragnar went back to the group and he along with Aslaug retired to their chambers.

His brothers and the Tunisians all quickly followed suit, and gave quick and polite goodbyes before going their own ways as well.

‘Let us also retire. I am absolutely exhausted.’ (Y/N) said and indeed she looked like her will alone was keeping her upright.

‘Yes, I’m sure that kind of dancing used up all your energy.’ Ivar agreed and soon they began their journey to their newly shared chamber.

‘I enjoyed dancing to your heart beat. It beats in alignment with my own.’ she remarked as they entered.

Inside they were met with their respective servants who must have brought in their things before joining the feast, as all their things were now properly in place in the chamber.

To Ivar’s surprise and delight the princess sent them both away.

Occasionally on the journey the princess would feel very affectionate and would like to undress Ivar herself; it was another thing he came to rely on while they shared space on the ship.

He would always eagerly offer to undress her in return, she would graciously accept and they would lie in each other’s arms as they slept through the night.

Tonight, however, she was more slow in removing his tunic than she usually did and he could tell by the distanced look in her eye as her hands moved that her mind was not truly in this moment.

‘I will not be at your side when you wake my love.’ she said as she discarded the clothing.

‘How long will your hunt last?’

‘As long as it takes, after the hunt is complete I will be taken to the Skinner's hut to fashion the cloak alone. Every three days a hunting party will be sent after me, if I were to forfeit, they would escort me back safely. In which case I will have failed, and we would not have the blessing of the Great and Many.’

‘Then we would not marry.’ Ivar concluded.

A pregnant silence set in over the two of them as they undressed and remained even as they lay in each other's arms.

‘Can I make a request for my cloak?’ Ivar said at last.

‘Of course.’

‘Something warm. I will want to wear it often and the weather back home is not as nice as this.’ he said with a smile.

He hoped she understood what he was saying between his words; prayed she understood that he had confidence she would succeed and they would marry.

Ivar only needed to meet her watering eyes to know she did understand him, and more than anything else she needed his confidence in her.

‘I’ve trained since the day Sven left with his party, and I am even bold enough to call myself a warrior, but I have never hunted alone.’ she confessed.

‘I had never known true combat until our Matrimonial Fight.’ Ivar returned.

He was surprised that she looked so surprised.

‘Are you trying to console me?’ the princess accused.

‘I am being truthful. Sure on occasion my brothers include me in a bit of roughhousing, or I may even initiate a scuffle but they are never actually aiming to overtake me. Our fights are never true.’ Ivar replied.

‘I knew when I fought with you there would be no holding back on your part, you fought me as an equal and you hit where it hurt.’

The princess’s accusing eyes softened before she hid her face in his chest.

‘I did apologize. ‘ she yawned sleepily.

‘Nothing to forgive, I loved it. I loved fighting you, watching how skilled you are, seeing that look in your eyes as you look for a new place to aim. And if you hunt as well as you fight I imagine I won’t be waiting a full week.’ Ivar encouraged.

Ivar whispered soft assurances and praises until he heard her soft snores, and even still he kept silently praising her, hoping that his Gods would hear his love for her and give her protection.

As he himself finally fell into slumber he even hoped the Great and Many would watch over her as well.

When Ivar woke up he had known (Y/N) wouldn’t be there, but he was still disappointed by her absence.

A small pebble was suddenly thrown into the room, noisily hitting the floor.

‘I am awake, Trya.’ Ivar sighed as he sat up to see his thrall entering the princess’s chamber holding a Tunisian shield.

‘My Prince, did you not sleep well? Should I call for the healers?’ the woman asked, the concern for his legs showing on her face.

‘My legs are no worse than I can handle, and my sleep was sound.’ he assured her as she began to dress him.

‘You have gotten used to her being there.’ Trya realized, but immediately she went red with embarrassment at her impulsive speaking.

‘I’m sorry Prince Ivar.’ she said quickly.

‘No need to apologize when you are right, if anything I should apologize in advance for my bad mood while she is away.’

‘If I may say, I think she will return sooner than you think and with a noble animal fur just for you. In the meantime there is a beautiful village to explore and such wonderful people to meet.’ Trya offered.

Ivar knew the old woman was simply trying to cheer him up, and she was even right; but he found little comfort in her words as he left the room on his crutches.

Just as he began to wonder where he should go without (Y/N) to guide him through the unfamiliar palace, one of her servants, Kya, rounded a corner and approached him.

‘Meal before.’ she mumbled in broken Norse.

‘We are in your homeland, no need to speak a foreign language for my sake.’ he said in perfect Derja.

The girl let out a sigh of relief and began speaking in her mother language.

‘It is time for first meal, I will take you to the great hall .’ she said, her tone very confident and proper in her own dialect, before leading him through the labyrinth of halls.

Ivar was led into a large room where both royal families were sitting on the floor in a circle, all of them eating some type of bread and dipping it into something steaming hot from their bowls.

‘Ivar you must try this porridge, their spices are so flavorful.’ Hvitserk said as Ivar lowered himself down as gracefully as he could.

‘I must agree, we will definitely be trading a great deal of spices in the near future.’ Ragnar agreed, his own bowl nearly empty before Ivar had even received his portion.

The flavor of the porridge was very strong and delicious, and the bread was more grainy than the bread back home.

‘It is delicious.’ Ivar complimented as he ate with a bit more vigor.

After all, he had a long journey on the ship and had drank far too much at the feast.

‘I’m sure if my future daughter in law were here she would be flattered.’ Aslaug said, surprising everyone.

‘(Y/N) made this meal?’ Ivar asked, truly questioning how his mother knew this.

His mother sat aside her now empty bowl and looked at him in earnest, as she always had. As if she hadn’t ignored him from the moment he decided to sail here.

‘I was unable to sleep through your father’s snoring so I had a servant show me around the palace. The princess was in the kitchens, helping the cooks as they prepared her rations and first meal. We had a talk.’ the Norse Queen answered.

Ivar sent a look to his brothers, who looked equally as stunned, even his father had wide eyes.

Every word she just said went against everything they knew about their mother. Aslaug was often so drunk she could sleep through the harshest winter storm, she despised watching thralls work, and in all their lives they had never seen her set foot in any kitchen.

It hadn’t been a convenient coincidence, Ivar was certain his mother had snuck out of bed in the wee hours to speak to (Y/N) privately before her departure.

However, if anyone was waiting on Aslaug to explain her conversation with the princess, they were disappointed when she went back to her wine in silence.

‘Well then, what will you all like to do today?’ King Akashi asked the Norse royals.

‘We would like to walk through your markets. Your daughter tells us it was her most important duty as a child. The concept is both foreign and intriguing to all of us, plus we are eager to see in person the beautiful kingdom that raised our new princess.’ Ragnar replied.

‘Excellent, I shall give them a tour.’ Prince Ayo beamed as he stood excitedly.

‘Sit down.’ the queen said in a quiet but stern tone, the kind that came only from mothers and queens; and considering that she was both, her tone was truly powerful.

The child prince sighed in his defeat and sat back down on the floor.

‘You are not old enough yet my son, and you are not far enough along in your studies to walk the village and converse with the people. Until then you will spend your day with your tutors.’ the king said, seeing the upset on his son’s face.

‘I will send a servant to escort you through the markets, she will meet you at the castle gate.’

‘If I may.’ Ivar spoke up, politely asking to speak directly to the royal family, something (Y/N) had informed him was considered extremely polite.

The queen looked at him with a raised eyebrow before nodding her approval.

‘As my father has said, we are all eager to see your markets and kingdom today, but may I join the young prince with his tutors tomorrow?’

Now the queen was downright studying him, her gaze alone making the cripple straighten up his posture.

‘You wish to study here?’ she asked.

‘I have a great thirst for knowledge, like our All Father Odin, who traded his eye for it. It seems I already traded my legs at birth.’Ivar smiled charmingly, making a humorous face at the prince, who let out a small breath of laughter.

The queen smiled, seemingly against her better judgment.

‘Yes you may join the lessons tomorrow, I will have Bintu accompany you both to the library together tomorrow. She seems to want to get acquainted with you better.’ Queen Aza agreed.

‘Are you close with Bintu as well?’ Sigurd asked.

‘Of course, I personally chose Bintu to protect my daughter. She was my closest friend as a girl, had I ever chosen to propose a Matrimonial Fight she would be my instructor.’

‘I must say, while there are so many fascinating customs in your country, the one that fascinates me the most is your approach to your inferiors.’ Aslaug confessed.

‘No no no. I have no inferiors, my Queen Sister. I am Queen and I am the highest authority, but there isn’t one subject in all my kingdom that is inferior to me. Do you know how most commoners address queens in this country?’ the Tunisian Queen questioned.

When none of the Norse answered she smiled to herself.

‘Queen Mother; that is how I am addressed by every single one of my subjects. Queen to show me their respect, and Mother to show their love. Of course now the title is more than fitting.’ she explained, rubbing the roundness of her belly.

‘I may not know you well, Queen Sister, but I feel that the title was well earned. For I have never seen so many happy commoners, and I have certainly never met a young woman more amazing than your daughter. Truly you are Queen Mother, if I may, I’d like to accompany you today. I have been a Queen almost as long as I have been a Mother, but I am not blind to my shortcomings. I would like to learn from you, Queen Aza.’ Aslaug requested, her eyes never leaving the other woman’s.

At this Ragnar had to cover his mouth to silence his own gasp; Ivar was happy they were already sitting on the floor, had they been in chairs he is certain his brothers would have all fallen out of them in shock.

Years and years, all their lives, they all sat watching their mother drink away her affections and love for anyone other than Ivar. They had stopped expecting her love before they had even gotten their armrings. They never in their wildest dreams thought she cared enough to notice their disappointment in her as a mother.

Ivar looked over at his brothers and surely enough each of them had different expressions of shock.

Ubbe looked as if he simply couldn’t process what he’d heard, Hvitserk had dropped the grainy bread into his nearly empty bowl, Sigurd was wide eyed and his face was becoming red.

‘I would love your company, Queen Aslaug. In fact, I am quite done with first meal. I will await you in the throne room. I will send for Kya to accompany the rest of you through the markets.’ Aza said before holding out her hand to her husband.

King Akashi, who had been silently eating the last of his own meal while observing his guest, set aside his empty bowl and helped the queen rise to her feet.

The Tunisians bid their farewells, instructed a servant girl to give them a tour of the markets and departed.

As soon as the retreating footsteps could no longer be heard all eyes fell on Queen Aslaug, who had met their eyes confidently.

‘Do not look so stunned, have you not all wished for a better mother? A better woman to sit beside your great father on the throne? As I have no intention of losing my status, I must improve; at least that is the advice I was given.’ she said in Norse.

‘Why did you seek her out? You have been spiteful to all of us since the fight; you ignored us all nearly completely since she suggested sailing here.’ Ubbe asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

The hint of accusation was still noticed by his mother.

‘I had no ill intention, my son, I only meant to see her before she left for her hunt. A servant led me to the kitchens and there she was gathering her rations, we spoke and she left.’

‘What did you say to her?’ Ivar asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

‘She spoke to me, and I saw what about her you love. She is intelligent, wise and almost annoyingly well spoken. Though she hasn’t seen one of your fits yet, Ivar, I’m sure she will be able to control even your rage.’

The princes all looked between each other, wondering if the others believed a word of this; even Ragnar had been studying his wife to see if there were any visible signs of deception.

‘Mother, she is going on a hunt, alone, I don’t even know what kind of animals they have here. I need you to tell me with conviction that you did not upset her before she left to do something so dangerous.’ he was pleading with his mother.

Aslaug stood from the floor and looked around at her family.

‘I do not know why I sought her out, I don’t know what I wanted to say to her. I know what she said to me. That she can see the weeds of hate growing in all of your eyes when you look my way. That your frowns deepen when I speak to you directly no matter what I say…and now I can see how right she was.’ Aslaug said with a truly hurt expression painting her face.

‘You think I would be so spiteful to try and sabotage her hunt Ivar? Even you? It seems I have been far worse a mother than I thought.’ she said, her voice beginning to shake as her eyes misted.

Before Ivar had a chance to let the guilt take hold of his heart fully his mother had turned and left the rest of them to their now unappealing bowls of porridge.

The room was quiet, everyone needed to digest more than the food; Aslaug’s words had left a bitter taste in their mouths.

‘Do you believe her?’ Hvitserk asked.

‘Of course not, she has been wretched since she birthed us, that doesn’t change after one talk.’ Sigurd dismissed with irritation.

‘She seemed upset, maybe she does regret the way she raised us.’ Ubbe said in her defense.

‘How could you think so, Ubbe? What raising did we get from her? It was while she was meant to be raising us that you and Hvitserk fell through ice and nearly died. In her “care” Bjorn lost his first daughter! The only time the truth comes out of her mouth is when she knows it will hurt.’ Sigurd spat angrily.

‘She is your mother, Sigurd. You owe her your life and respect.’ Ragnar said, a hint of a warning in his tone.

The circle was tense now, despite the fragility of their marriage Aslaug was still Ragnar’s wife and not many Viking men allow their wives to be insulted in their presence.

‘I had no say in who my mother was Father, did I? Even still you are right, I owe her respect…just as she owes us her love, but unfortunately for her I no longer want it.’ Sigurd replied just as stubborn as he had been as a child as he stood up.

‘I will wait at the gate for the escort.’ he said formally before leaving.

Ivar watched Sigurd in a mixture of annoyance and understanding, no one could deny that Sigurd had been the most hurt by Aslaug’s neglect growing up. He was always the one to interrupt their chess games to ask if they could have a walk all together, and he was always turned away.

‘I know your mother was…is a hard woman to understand and that it was hard growing up when I would sail away, but I know her. For better or worse I can read that woman’s heart like fresh carved runes, and I think she is being genuine. Now if you excuse me, I believe I need to have a private conversation with my son.’ Ragnar sighed tiredly before he followed Sigurd.

‘What do you think, Ivar?’ Ubbe asked his youngest brother.

‘I think…my betrothed did speak with her, and I think the conversation went more or less the same way she says it does. What I don’t know is if she is accepting that conversation as a friendly warning or a threat.’

‘You think she would sabotage (Y/N)’s hunt?’ Hvitserk asked in shock.

‘At first I will admit I did think her capable of it, but in my heart I know that isn’t like her. I know I should have no say in it seeing how she doted on me, but she has never gone out of her way to hurt any one of us. I don’t think she ever would.’ Ivar answered honestly.

‘He is right, Mother never cared enough to be cruel to us, sure she poured love onto Ivar, but Ivar is going to marry. Who will be there for her to pour on to? Ragnar?’ Ubbe said strategically, as if he were discussing a battle in a war room, not his own mother.

‘So she wants our love now that Ivar has his own woman.’ Hvitserk realized.

The room fell into one last long silence before Hvitserk noisily slurped down the very last of porridge in his bowl and stood up.

‘Well,I’m flattered to finally be worth her affections, however, what she does will have no true effect on me, but I will not discourage her efforts.’ The middle son declared before he too left.

‘What about you Ubbe? Do you still long for Mother’s love?’ Ivar asked.

‘You know, I remember the day we fell through the ice.’ Ubbe said, surprising Ivar.

Neither Ubbe or Hvitserk ever spoke about that terrible day, no matter how strategically he and Sigurd asked about it growing up; and they had asked quite often back then.

‘We had followed mother and Harbard, because why not, it was too cold for fishing obviously and we were too young to hunt back then. They went into a hut and we went to get a closer look but there was a noise…a calling so inviting and pleasant it carried us away.’

Ivar didn’t want to reply and pull his brother out of his sharing mood so he just listened and let Ubbe speak freely. He had never seen his eldest brother look so lost in his own mind while talking before, it seemed as if he was doing more than remembering. He was there all over again, a small boy out exploring with his brother on a winter's day.

‘It promised such fun and we were so excited we didn’t realize how far we had walked, but we did notice when the snowy grass became ice beneath our feet, but the call assured us and on we walked further out on the ice. Siggy, do you remember her?’ Ubbe asked.

‘Of course, Rollo’s wife.’ Ivar provided.

‘She was a kind woman to us, mother often left us in her care and she had seen us on the lake, she tried to call out for us but what was her small far away voice to a call only we could hear? A call that must have been from the Gods? She chased after us but it was too late, the ice cracked and the call stopped as soon as we fell into the freezing water.’

Ubbe seemed to not even see Ivar sitting across from him anymore, he was lost in the memory of coldness.

‘The water was so much colder than the ice had been, or at least that’s how it felt, cold all over my body, cold water in the lungs. In that cold do you know what I thought, Ivar?’

Ivar shook his head no, and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘I want my mother.’ Ubbe said softly, leaning in closer, as if this was his most precious secret.

‘I wanted to feel the warmth of her embrace and for her to whisper soothing words into my ear to assure me I would not be forced out of Midgard so soon. I even thought maybe she’d heard my silent cries and rescued us, but it was only Siggy pulling us out of the ice. Harbard was there, and she managed to give us to him before her own life was taken by that cold water. After Harbard had brought us to Mother she asked him to heal us and once he had she sent us off to bed for rest…without ever touching us.’

Ivar, who of course saw that his mother showed him more love than his brothers, was stunned by just how cold the woman had truly been to her other children.

As Ivar chewed over his rapid change in family dynamics his bride to be was walking vast dry hunting grounds.

She was brought some comfort in the fact she wasn’t in completely new territory. She had gone on at least a dozen hunts in this area. Of course those hunts had been with full hunting parties of at least ten.

Hunting in large groups was a common practice throughout the world because the simple fact was that there is power in numbers. More hunters mean more game can be caught, and the hunters had a stronger sense of security knowing that there would be more people able to watch their blind spots in case of predator attacks.

More than that, for (Y/N) at least, hunting in a group simply made the experience of hunting much more pleasant. She remembers talking with the others as they walked for hours to the waterhole where most game favored to drink and bathe.

Now she was alone and could not afford any such pleasantries. She had to keep her ears and eyes sharp, there was no one there to assist her in spotting anything that may be lying in wait.

Another benefit of hunting parties, she had come to understand quickly, was that it entailed more provisions. She had a large canteen of water that weighed heavily on her hip, but she knew it would be all she had until she reached the water hole.

And that was a half day’s journey and as heavy as it felt the canteen only had so much water inside. So she ignored the dryness of her mouth, resigned not to drink until the sun was fully in the sky.

Along with her water canteen she had a variety of tools and rope to make shelter, her father’s blade, an ax, twenty ready made arrows to go with the bow she carried by hand and a fortnight's worth of food in the pack she had on her back. One fortnight’s worth of food.

One fortnight worth of food.

One fortnight, that is two weeks.

Two weeks is fourteen days.

She repeated these things mentally every mile or so, she was determined to keep track of the time. If she allowed herself to lose her senses she could find herself out here alone with nothing to eat, no water and no choice but to wait for the rescue party.

No. Even if it did come to that she would refuse to return, and that would mean staying not only to hunt for a beast but also hunting to survive.

The thought of scavenging for berries in the dry lands was almost as discouraging as the thought of wasting arrows on smaller prey before finding her true target.

Whatever that target may be; she thought guiltily.

She had promised Ivar a grand cloak worthy of his Gods but she had no idea what that even meant yet alone what animal she would hunt. Luckily the water hole would be sure to have a variety of beasts to choose from.

After what she guessed had been four hours the sun was finally shining at its highest point in the sky. She took the canteen from her side and took a singular large swallow of cool water before closing it off again, but she held the container to her forehead to feel the coolness of the water inside.

It had to be at least noon now, that meant about six more hours until she was at the water hole, but that would mean arriving at by nightfall and that wasn’t wise. She would have to stop and make her shelter for the night.

A large cluster of boulders and a tiny cluster of palm oil trees in the distance told her she had in fact remembered the path from her previous hunts.

The rocks were where her hunting party usually sought shelter. The formation of the boulders created a sort of rocky valley and with wood and leaves from the trees a roof and walls can be fashioned.

(Y/N) took special care in looking around for any signs of a predator before she removed her pack and dug out some dried biltong and a piece of plantain bread.

She kept alert as she ate quickly, wanting to make sure she didn’t stay here long enough to be found by any thing, but she also wanted to savor the chewiness of the antelope meat, and the bread was so filling on her empty stomach it felt as warm as an embrace.

Once the last of the bread had been eaten (Y/N) picked up her pack again and continued on, still chewing the last bite of biltong, trying to extend the longevity of its flavor and the mere illusion of eating. After she had finally resigned to swallow the over chewed meat she again took a single drink from her canteen, this time only a sip as it was less about true thirst and more a desire to wash down her brief meal.

The further she walked the more she thought over her plans for when she reached the boulders.

First she would find the best spot in between the rocks that required the least amount of material to fortify. Then she would go and gather the wood and palm leaves to make the roofing and walls, after that she would go again to the trees for firewood to keep her warm once night fell.

She tried not to get too comfortable or confident but so far she was pleased with her progress. She had yet to come across so much as an antelope so far and if there were no prey animals near her that meant the chances of predators were much lower.

Of course that also meant if she did encounter a hungry meat eater it would probably be extremely eager to eat the first thing it found.

With that in mind she kept her grip firm on her bow as she pushed on.

It was when she was only about an hour away from her destination that she heard a rustling in the grass behind her that was too isolated and sudden to have been wind.

With an alarming quickness she pulled an arrow from her pack and raised her bow, aiming at the direction of the noise.

It was quiet again, but she was certain she’d heard something and she wasn’t going to turn around or move on until she found and killed whatever had made that sound.

She focused her gaze and scanned through the tall yellow grass for anything out of place. She kept a special look out for spots and stripes; this was big cat territory.

A final second of quiet passed before finally the grass rustled again, and this time she had seen exactly where the grass moved.

Without hesitation she released the arrow and several things seemed to happen all at once to her.

Of course things had happened one at a time, and they happened in this exact order.

First; the arrow flew like lightning into the tall grass, second; a loud pitiful roar cut through the air, and thirdly a lion had leapt out of its hiding place.

With no small amount of fear and an even larger amount of alarm the princess readied another arrow and began back stepping, she knew better than to turn her back to this beast.

Now that it was out of the tallest grass she could see it was a truly pathetic thing. Its mane was shaggy and matted, several scabby bald patches that had been licked raw from over grooming littered his back legs and it was so unsightly thin even in her panic she could see its protruding rib cage.

Her arrow stuck out of its left front leg in a vulgar way as it tried weakly to chase her down, but already her fear was subsiding.

Even as she backed away to put distance between her and the lion so that she could have a clear clean shot, (Y/N) could see that the arrow wasn’t the only thing slowing down her attacker.

Yes it limped on its injured front leg, but it made a huffing whimpering noise every time his right hind leg hit the ground. Clearly something had tussled with this frail thing before she had and it seemed that unknown creature had done her a great kindness.

Once she was confident in the distance between them she released the second arrow and watched it land true as it sunk into the lion's skull and the weak body fell into the dirt with a soft thud.

A final breath escaped its mouth and sent up a small cloud in the dry dirt it now laid lifelessly upon.

With the beast taken down she found herself breathing hard, her adrenaline still racing as she approached it.

Up close she could better inspect it to see if this had been it, if this could be THE beast.

However, no amount of optimism could allow her to overlook the matted shabby dark mane, the many bald patches she could see in the lion’s coat or the clearly visible bites they exposed.

No, this wouldn’t even be worth skinning, not for her husband's cloak, but still leaving it here was not an option, it would attract scavengers and most of those were pack animals. So she took out her ax and made quick work of dismembering the lion and then did her best to wrap the remains in the blanket she intended to sleep under.

It was too heavy to lift alone so she attached the sack to a rope and dragged it the rest of the way to the boulders. By the time she had reached her destination her legs and arms were more sore than they had ever been in all her years of training, but she didn't stop to rest.

Just as she had planned she found a small rectangular spot that was perfectly spaced between two boulders that stood twice as high as she did. There she sat the lion sack before she went to fetch the wood and palm leaves. The sun would be setting soon and she would not be out in the open with a fresh kill at her side when it happened.

She chopped and dragged long branches for one hour, then she fashioned two walls about one foot taller than herself using rope to tie the branches together, tying the leaves together to keep out the wind. She installed her walls by burying the branches in the dirt making sure they were firmly planted. The roof was easier to make since she had to leave a spot open for smoke to escape.

Finally, just as she had tied the last bit of rope securing the roof to the walls the sun was beginning to set. She made her final trip to the grove of trees for firewood and quickly returned to her newly built shelter.

Her fire was burning strong as the sun set, but she did not lay down, she sat beside the fire watching the flames as she thought one thing over and over.

What beast was worthy of Ivar the Boneless?

[sepherinaspoppies]

series taglist:

@castellomargot @toodlesxcuddles @itsabby15 @diannnnsss @fan-goddess @zenka69 @a-beaverhausen @gabee-arts @bluebirdbts @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @absurduty @delulumhaggy @liannafae @aaaaaamond @ilikechocolatemilkh @lokiofasgard12 @devils-blackrose @jjmaysbaby @that-v03 @moose-squirrel-asstiel @tssf-imagines @possiblyafangirl @draganaludoski @ladythornofrivia

The One That Got Away

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: After she escapes Aemond Targaryen, back home to the modern world her family decides to throw her an eventful baby shower where she is constantly being reminded of the father of her unborn child.

warnings: mentions of dark! book Aemond, mentions of forced marriage, and future spoilers to my main story.

wc: 4,864

main story masterlist

my masterlist

notes: this was supposed to be a small drabble lol but I got carried away lol. btw maybe this can be read as a stand alone but I do suggest to read the first two parts. this is a spoiler drabble so read if you must or come back to it when the story is finished!

gif by @gameofthronesdaily

As of late, she had begun to feel strange. 

It was not the same ill feeling she felt when she first found out that Aemond Targaryen had knocked her up. No, this was different. Odd. 

The closest she could describe it was multiple sets of eyes watching her every single move. From crossing the street, to walking to the mercado and perhaps even sitting on the toilet as she peed.

It was an unsettling feeling that blossomed into slight paranoia. Alys was the first to have warned her about this after she escaped. Saying she too felt something lingering by days after she fled Aemond and settled into the modern world but it was gone once Alys met her. 

However, that strange feeling was always creeping around, never disappearing. And even though Alys had promised that Aemond would never find her with the many spells and seals she encircled around to protect her, she still didn’t feel quite so easily convinced. 

Late at night, she would pray for that strange yet uncomfortable feeling to be gone and to never come back. But most importantly she prayed to the Gods for the very memory of him to vanish completely from her mind. 

The Gods, nevertheless, didn’t seem to want to grant her daily prayers as cruelly as they were. 

She was near the third trimester in her pregnancy when her primas Gabriela and Mariana decided to throw her a baby shower. While she was in no social or partying mood, considering her six month belly weighed her down every time she walked, she reluctantly gave in to their pleadings. (female cousins)

Mostly because she desperately needed the distraction. 

So she let both Gabriela and Mariana organize the shower. Her only request was to keep the party small, with only her, her abuela, them and the rest of her primas and tias. Seeing as her extended family that resided deeper inside the pueblo, did not know about her pregnancy. And she wanted to keep it that way. (aunts, town)

But did Gabriela and Mariana ever listen? No.

The pair had practically invited half the town over with people she had never met before. It came as a huge surprise after she got done from her shift at Doña Maribel’s shop, just how many people showed up. 

The whole street was filled with baby blue, pink, and white balloons with a huge banner with her name on it. Her neighbors, mostly the women, approached her with congratulations and a small gift. She, of course, thanked them for their kindness. 

Meanwhile her tios happened to be making carne asada in the middle of the street and placing bets on the gender of her baby. If she wasn’t so paranoid about Aemond searching for her, she too would’ve also joined in on their bets. (uncles, roasted meat or barbecue lol)

Her primas were the first to greet her while eagerly showing the decorations they had made, the party games they had planned, and the many gifts she had been gifted. 

“We made these little pins for the gender of the baby, and all of us are wearing what we think the little frijolito is going to be. Now it’s your turn to pick!” Gabriela says holding two pins, each adorned with a baby bottle with either pink or blue. (little bean)

She looked at both very hesitantly, unable to just pick one. She had heard stories from multiple customers that came from the shop, how they just knew the gender of their baby by the feel of their bump or mood symptoms. 

After weeks of trying to feel something or to establish some type of connection for it, she sadly could not get a good feel of what it was. 

Though, the only thing that did matter was for the little frijolito to be happy and healthy. When reading Fire and Blood, she remembered reading how Rhaenyra Targaryen had birthed a daughter with dragon-like birth defects and a scaled tail.

She prayed that she wouldn’t hatch an actual dragon as well. Birth sounded painful and unpleasant enough as it was. 

She pinned both decorative pins to her shirt earning several dissatisfied ‘aw’s’ from her surrounding family. 

“I’m pretty sure it’ll be a boy,” Her abuela added in, sitting adjacent to her on the small couch. “I carried five boys and my belly was as low as yours. When I carried your mama, my belly was higher and rounder from the sides.” 

Some of her tias nodded in agreement. But it was her tia abuela, Dora, who examined her from head to toe, doing what she did best; stirring the pot. “Yes and her belly is very big which means it’ll be a tall baby. Tell me, hija, is the father a tall man?” (great aunt, daughter)

The room went impossibly quiet so much that she could hear a hair pin drop. She saw her abuela shift uncomfortably against the couch as so did the rest of her tias and primas. Although she had not mentioned who or what exactly happened to her family, they all had an inclination of what stemmed between the father of her unborn child and her. 

“Yes. Yes he is.” She answered with a fake smile. 

Dora raised an eyebrow, more than intrigued to know more. “¿Cuánto mide?” (what’s his height?)

In the corner of her eye, she saw her abuela give her sister a harsh look, the same one she’d give her when she was little whenever she did something wrong. 

“I don’t know his exact height, tia. I just know he is a lot taller than me.” She informed, trying not to let her voice waver at the small flashback she had of Aemond, standing in front of her where he’d forced her to marry him against a Weirwood tree at Harrenhal. It was the first time she really took in his massive height. And it was also the first time she felt truly smaller and inferior than him. 

You’re safe. You escaped. He’s gone. He’ll never find us. 

Dora did not let her sister’s harsh stare get to her, and instead fixated her eyes on the way she kept rubbing her heavy bump. “Will we ever get a chance to meet him?-”

“Hermana,” Her abuela warned with a stricter and more stern tone to her voice. (sister)

“Que? I just want to know more about the father so I can figure out if the clothes I bought would be a right fit or not.” Dora shrugs, feigning an innocent look on her face. Though, it was transparent enough to know she was lying. (what?)

Truth to be told, she never really quite liked her tia abuela. No one ever did. Not even her mama or abuela or quite shockingly her own daughter. Dora was known to be a pretentious chismosa, sticking her nose into other people’s business and going as far as to twist people’s words for the sole purpose of her own enjoyment. (gossiper)

Multiple times her family called Dora out for her bad mouthing. But the older woman stuck around like a moth to a flame, awaiting for new chisme to spread. (gossip)

“Well, if the clothes don’t fit we can always buy new ones. So stop being a metida, hermana.” She watched amazed as her tia abuela only huffed, crossing her arms on her chest and for once kept quiet for the remainder of the party. (someone who is other’s business)

To dissipate away the eminent tension, Mariana had brought out custom baby shower tablas of loteria she and Gabriela had ordered from Etsy. She laughed at the ‘La Botella’ being replaced with a biberón and ‘La Sirena’ being replaced with a pair of lactating breasts that tia Diana joked it’ll soon look like hers whenever she’d give birth. (cards of the game loteria. The bottle. Baby bottle. The siren)

As per usual, they played with money involved. She had won seven rounds out of ten against her family and earned around five hundred pesos until her tios decided to join in and tried to defeat her. Keyword, tried. But they never did and pinned four hundred more pesos to her dress. All five of her tios had playfully cursed her out as they kept drinking their Coronas. 

“Alyssandra, bienvenida!” Her abuela welcomed a bashful looking Alys holding a gift. The green eyed woman wore an all black outfit, jeans that Alys had once confessed to her were her favorite stylish invention of the modern world (besides non toxic makeup). (welcome)

“I hope I’m not too late for the celebration,” Alys pointed out, taking a seat in front of her. “You kept my nieta safe those many months ago, you’re always welcomed here at any time, Alyssandra.” (granddaughter)

Safe. 

She let out a humorous laugh. Safe was the opposite of what Alys had done to her. Kidnapped and held hostage was a better fit for words. She had been magically transported to a world she only knew existed in a book, and met one of her favorite book characters, Aemond Targaryen. A man who she thought to be a kindhearted friend by promising to return her back to her universe. 

Instead Aemond Targaryen had betrayed her trust and loyalty by destroying what she needed to get back home. Thus forcing her to marry him. It was then when she realized who he truly was hidden behind empty promises; a man who was crazy and obsessed with her. 

And everything had happened for a stupid sapphire that held a high sentimental value to Alys. 

Alys narrowed her eyes from where she sat but suddenly softened when she saw the permanent bruises on her wrists where Aemond had tied her down for their intense wedding night. 

Multiple times did Alys apologize for sending her to the arms of a delusional man. From what Alys remembered, Aemond didn’t go as far as bounding her whenever they slept together. Alys had let Aemond take his pleasure with a feign smile ultimately to play her game of survival. 

She didn’t quite so easily forgive Alys and she doesn’t think she’d ever will. 

“I still am sorry for what I did.” Alys’ voice softly wandered on her head. 

“I know,” She replied back through her mind. 

As the day turned into night, it was finally time to open gifts. However, not without having cake, her abuela brought out a delicious looking chocoflan. A cake she previously loved but thanks to Aemond, she no longer was fond of it. 

Her abuela cut the biggest slide for her and the little frijolito and called out the rest of the family to come have a slice. In an instant the chocoflan was gone but her abuela secretly whispered to her that she had more in the fridge saved just only for her. 

It took her over an hour to unwrap the stack of gifts she received and she was grateful for the many boxes of diapers as they would come utterly in handy. She’d been gifted a dark green crochet hat with matching mittens from her abuela, a pair of red mal de ojo bracelets for spiritual protection from tia Imelda, a mini thick cobija Mexicana from tio Eduardo, and several gender neutral clothes. (evil eye, mexican blanket)

It was Alys’ gift that made everyone’s head turn in confusion. 

“They are scrolls. I found them as I was cleaning my bookshelf and I thought they might be useful to your babe,” Alys explained as she fully opened one of them, revealing hieroglyphics and scriptures in a language she didn’t understand. 

“What’s… High Valyrian?” Mariana asked ever so curious, over her shoulder. 

Alys interrupted her before she had a chance to speak. “It is a language originating from the land of Old Valyria.” 

Her youngest prima Sofia’s eyes lit up in interest, “Oh cool! Is it like the Sith language from Star Wars?” 

It was Alys’ turn to look at the young Star Wars fan in befuddlement. “What’s Star Wars?”

Sofia scoffed in shock and explained in full detail what the fictional universe that was Star Wars. Well at least she hoped it was fictional. At this point, if Luke Skywalker was real in another universe or in a galaxy far, far away she wouldn’t be astonished. Though, if the opportunity presented itself, she wouldn’t mind traveling to that world to meet Anakin Skywalker. If the real Anakin Skywalker looked anything like Hayden Christensen, within a heartbeat she’d run to Alys to do one of her spells. 

“Who are the Targaryens?” Gabriela questioned reading one of the scrolls that had a list of Valyrian houses. 

“Nobody.” She sharply replied, starting to feel somewhat vexed. 

“They are the people who descended from Old Valyria and speak High Valyrian. They are the only ones who can read these scrolls-”

One flesh. One heart. One soul. 

“Alys.” 

“They sound magical,” Sofia replied, full of awestruck. Only if she knew that they were more than just that. 

“Why did you say that these scrolls would be useful to the baby? Is the baby part Targaryen or something?” Mariana jokes, making her family more intrigued by the edge of their seats.  

“Can’t have my seed go to waste, my love. You shall swell with my child soon enough. A perfect babe born from our love.” 

Stop. No more. You are safe. He’ll never come. This is your baby more than it is his. 

“You are mine. You’ll never leave me…”

“Hija?” She heard her abuela call out her name as she broke out in a run. 

She wanted to get out, every second that she was there, being reminded of the man who impregnated her made her feel nauseous. Maybe it was because of the frijolito or just pure fear. She didn’t know, but either way it was a feeling she didn’t want to have. 

She did not spare anyone a glance, not wishing for anyone to see the panic and wretchedness. 

“I love you.” 

In an instant, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find and emptied out her stomach until Aemond’s voice stopped circulating in her head. 

“Are you okay?” A soft voice spoke behind her. 

She turned around seeing a man around her age, tall with black hair and dark brown eyes. His hand extended a red solo cup that he softly murmured was water.  

She nodded, easing the worry on his face. “Yea just a little sick is all.” The worrisome never faltered on his face, if anything he looked more concerned. “There’s some gelatina inside, I could grab you a plate? When my sisters were pregnant all they ate was gelatina to ease the nausea.” (gelatin aka jell-o)

“No it’s fine, I’ll-” He waved her off, sprinting inside before she could even finish. He brought a small plate of gelatina de limon to an empty table, motioning for her to sit. (lime flavored gelatin)

He watched intently as she took a few bites into the gelatina, humming when the color came back to her face. She sure did feel better, small little kicks to her belly confirmed that the frijolito felt the same. 

“Better?” The dark haired man asked. 

“Yes, thank you.” She nodded, giving him a soft smile. 

“I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Armando,” He bashfully confessed with a tint of pink on his cheeks. 

Of course she most definitely remembered him. The boy next door she had a huge crush on when she was little. Only that he was not so little now. 

“I do remember you. It still feels like just yesterday when we were sitting here on these tables eating the paletas de hielo after school.” She smiled fondly at the memory. Unbeknownst to her Armando would use the money his parents would give him for school lunch, to buy their paletas de hielo just so he could spend more time with her. It was his favorite part of the day. (popsicles)

Armando laughed as he too looked back at the memory. “I would’ve come a lot sooner to catch up. But I had some business to do in Oaxaca and Merida. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me since it's been more than thirteen years but I needed to see you just once more before I left.” 

A part of her felt touched that he had come all this way, and the drive she knew wasn’t easy. “I’m surprised you remembered me,” She quipped back. 

“Who would ever forget you?” 

It was her turn to bright pink. She couldn’t find any right words, but what could anyone say? Armando’s confession had been honest. Since she had left al otro lado, there hadn’t been a day where he wouldn’t stop thinking about her. (to the other side/ the states)

She decided to briefly change the subject instead. “I see that you didn’t change your mind about going to Oaxaca after all these years.” For as long as she could remember, Armando more than often would say that he wanted to live in Oaxaca, especially near the coast. What she also didn’t know was that it was her who he wanted to live there with.  

“No I didn’t. I’m building a house there since my papa left me some terreno there after he passed away. You should come visit after it’s finished, soon.” Armando sincerely hoped she would. (land)

Aquí vas a terminar de enamorarte conmigo. He thought to himself. (here you are going to end up falling in love with me) 

The idea of going to Oaxaca sounded not so bad. But traveling with a big and heavy belly sounded tiring and draining. Perhaps after she’d given birth when the baby was past its infancy. 

“I leave in four days and I’d like to see you again. Or perhaps you wanna come with me?” The dark haired man asked, quirking a brow. 

“So what do you think of Armando?” Her abuela slyly probed, after she’d just given her goodbye to Armando. She should have known her abuela would be closely watching their interaction. “He’s gotten taller,” She jokes with a playful look on her face. Her abuela rolled her eyes, “You know that’s not what I mean.” 

She knows what she means but the talk of men was not something she wished to continue further. If she had met Armando first rather than Aemond, she definitely wouldn’t mind the conversation. But yet, Aemond had been thrown into her path unwelcomed. 

“When you left for the states with your mama, Armando would ask everyday when you were coming back or any news of you. We thought he’d eventually get the hint that you were gone for good but that boy still asked about you. It wasn’t until your abuelo finally broke the news to him that he stopped coming here.” 

She remembered that day when she left, her mama barely gave her time to say her goodbyes. 

“He seems to be doing alright.” She pointed out, picking up dirty plates to place them inside the sink. “Oh, he’s doing better than alright. He got offered a position to work at a law firm in Oaxaca and his mama told me he’s also building a house over there. I heard it’s beautiful and spacious.” At the last sentence her abuela wiggles her brows, teasing. 

She hummed in acknowledgement, knowing where the conversation was going towards. “Good for him.” Although Armando gave her a sense of kindness and genuinity, she was in no way ready to be involved with someone romantically. Aemond, too, seemed kind at first until he had betrayed her trust and went completely haywire and delusional. He had shown her a different side to him once she figured out their well thought out plan to transport her back home, was all a lie to get her to marry him and never leave. 

Aemond and Alys both shattered that illusion of the fairytale love she wished to have.  

What’s not to say Armando had an evil and dark side to him as well? 

“El es un buen hombre con un muy buen corazón, tiene trabajo estable. Te lo digo para que lo pienses,” Her abuela advised, gently squeezing her forearm, “A house like the one he’s building, deserves a family to live in.” (he is a good man with a good heart, he has a stable job. I say this so you can think about it) 

Her abuela’s eyes then trailed to her swollen pregnant belly. “One must make sacrifices that we don’t always want or agree with for our children.” 

The party began to slowly falter close to ten, she never was one for sleeping early but after such a long day she and the frijolito needed much necessary beauty sleep. 

Although her abuela said she’d clean, she ended up doing it herself as cleaning gave her a sense of control and some therapy clear of anxiety. She went ahead and took all the gifts up to her bedroom where it was much more quiet and alone amidst others. 

She plopped herself down on the bed, opening a small bottle of lavender oil to rub to her belly that Doña Maribel suggested was good for calming stretch marks. She did not mind them, she knew it was natural for her body to expand to fit the babe, but what did bother her was the itchiness to it. 

Not only did the oil soothe itch, but the frijolito loved it when she would firmly massage the spot where it rested. She once massaged the side of her belly only to find out the dragonling was ticklish there. 

She nearly screamed when she heard two loud knocks at her door, revealing a certain black haired witch. 

“Mind if I come in?” Alys asked, her head popping inside the little crevice of the door. As much as she wanted to be alone, she muttered a simple yes. Alys made herself comfortable by plopping down to the left of her on the bed. 

“I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier, I was out of line to give you those scrolls in the presence of your family.” Alys admitted, her enchanting face etched with sincerity. 

She sighed, “You were. I have a feeling my family will ask me more questions about it.” 

Alys made a face that suggested she was thinking about something, “I could always make them forget it. Just say the words and I’ll do it.” Alys promised. 

“No, no more magic or anything of what I used to think was fictional. I mean it Alys, I don't want to ever think of Aemond Targaryen.” 

Alys understood what she meant, after her version of Aemond died at the Battle Above the Gods Eye, she too didn’t want to think of him. The only thing that mattered was her son, her beautiful little boy that was taken too soon. She regretted not saving him sooner and transporting him to this new world she found. Alys had a feeling that he’d love it here, this country full of colors and great food. 

Even if Alys could bring him back from the dead, her son’s body resided in the Riverlands. 

“What if…” Alys thought before continuing, “What if I could take the memories away? Just the ones of him and-” 

“Forgetting doesn’t change what happened,” She bickered a little too loudly causing the babe to stir and kick all around. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

Alys began to admire the many gifts she’d been given, never in her life had she seen so many boxes that read to be diapers. She had only used scraps of linen she’d find lying around and cleaned it when her son did his business. Disposable diapers sounded less work but the thought of the amount of waste in this world seemed unappealing and would much rather keep the scraps of linen. 

“This isn’t really your thing, is it?” Alys motioned her head to the side where her window was, her family still celebrating outside with the whole neighborhood. 

“Not really. This whole thing was organized by my primas and tios. But now that I look back on it I think this was an excuse for my family to throw a party and drink,” She chuckles, even more when she sees her tios, Mario and Pedro dancing together (most likely drunk) to an uncoordinated cumbia.

Alys also lets out a chuckle of agreement, “Your tio Chema kept giving me Coronas after Coronas. I’m amazed that I’m not drunk.”

She smiles, knowing damn well tio Chema loves to get anyone drunk. He’d even pour an ounce to the dog’s kibble too if he could.

“But you are quite lucky you know,” Alys turns to her with a solemn look in her forest green eyes. “To have a family who loves you so much enough to throw you a grand celebration for the babe that you carry.” All that Alys got in return was being called a whore when she was far enough to show. Of course, Aemond hadn’t been one of those people. He rejoiced when she first told him months after he took her as his bedmate. 

“I didn’t.” Alys shrugged. Even though she despised touch, she placed her hand on top of Alys’ and gave it a squeeze. Alys’ eyes began to incite with tears at the gesture, but she quickly shrugged the feeling off. 

“This isn’t about me, this is about you. I know you said no more Westeros talk but I’ve been meaning to give you this for a while now and I wish not to keep it anymore.” Alys placed a medium sized box on her lap. Whatever was inside had some weight into it. 

“You already gave me a gift, Alys-” She declines but the older witch shakes her head and gestures for her to open it. 

She unwraps the green ribbon and opens the top of the box, revealing some kind of oval shaped rock. The color was a mixture of teal and violet, its edges were rough and scaled to the touch. 

It was not just some rock. It was an egg. 

“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is, Alys.” She murmured anxiously, distancing herself from the object. Alys proudly smiled, “If you assume this is a dragon egg, then yes you’re correct.” 

She immediately places the dragon egg back in the box, afraid of the little thing hatching in a world that it isn’t supposed to be hatched. “You can’t just give me a dragon egg! What if this thing hatches? Dragons aren’t-” She babbled before she was rudely interrupted. 

“Relax, I have enchanted it into a stone. It will not hatch here, I made sure of it.” Alys reassured, placing the egg back onto her hands. 

Still startled, she shook her head. “Nope, I can’t accept this Alys.” She gave the egg back. If anyone were to walk in it’d look like they were playing a game of hot potato. 

“Yes you can and you will. Besides, it’s not like it’s for you; it’s for the babe.” 

She narrowed her eyes, it was still a dragon egg. “How did you even get a dragon’s egg anyways?” 

Alys sighs, sitting back down on the bed taking a trip down memory lane. “My version of Aemond gave it to me. After I told him I was with child he made sure to give me one of Dreamfyre’s eggs. Though, Aemond died shortly after and it did not hatch. My son however, was sad about it but I knew if it hatched Aegon the Younger would send his men to either kill it or to take it for himself since his own dragon died. So I kept the egg for myself.” 

She still had many more questions to ask but for now it would suffice. She walked to the crib that she purchased not too long ago and placed the teal-violet egg next to some dragon plushies she knew the frijolito would like. 

“Thank you Alys,” She told Alys with a smile before releasing a long tired yawn. 

Alys nodded, grabbing her purse, another fashionable invention she loved from this world, deciding to give the young girl some rest. She suddenly came to a stop at her bedroom door.

“You know, you deserve happiness. I believe that young boy with the curls will give you and your babe just that. Give him a chance, take that risk and follow him.” 

With that Alys left. 

Four days later, she knocked at Armando’s door with her belongings in her hands and left with him to Oaxaca. A month later, they both married in a small Catholic church next to their families. True to Alys’ and her abuela’s words, she was happy with Armando. 

Unbeknownst to her, her true husband had been watching through the flames. 

“Oh, my love it seems like you have forgotten who you belong to. Fret not, you will learn soon enough.”

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[sexy-monster-fucker]

Eddie Brock|Venom NSFW Alphabet 

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Eddie is very very caring after sex.  He knows Venom can be rough so he wants to make sure you are okay.  He LOVES to cuddle after sex.  Very touchy.  A lot of forehead kisses.  

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part of their partners)

Eddie loves your hands.  He loves intertwining fingers with you.  Venom, on the other hand, loves your neck.  He loves to wrap his hand firmly around it.  

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Venom loves finishing inside you.  Eddie would never admit it, but he does too.  

D - Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Secretly, Eddie has a HUGE daddy kink.  He never told you, but one time you let that name fall from your lips and it drove him mad.  He adores being called that.  

E - Experience (How experienced are they?)

Eddie may have a tough guy exterior, but he actually does not have that much experience.   He always tends to wait until he has rather strong feelings for the person he is with before deciding to sleep with them.  Obviously, Venom is only as experienced as his host. 

F - Favorite Position

Any position where they get to be the dominant one.  They adore being on top for real.  

G - Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Eddie and Venom are both very serious in the moment.  They love having sex and consider it to be very intimate.  They do everything to make sure it’s perfect for you.  

H - Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Well, Venom does not really have hair.  That one is self explanatory.  Eddie keeps himself groomed, but there is hair always.  

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Eddie is one of the most caring people on the planet.  He loves to make sure you know how much he loves you.  

J - Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Venom has a very high sex drive, so sometimes he ends up getting Eddie worked up.  Eddie often has to take care of it as not to bother you.  It often happens at the worse times, so Eddie does not like bothering you with it.

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Eddie has a secret daddy kink.  Venom himself has a breeding kink.  He gets off on the idea of his seed impregnating you.  He longs to reproduce with you.   

L - Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Eddie loves to do it in the bedroom.  Call it old fashioned, but he loves taking you into the bedroom after a night out and ripping your clothes off you.  

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Eddie loves to be seduced by you.  When you graze your fingers up his arm or chest it gets him going.  He also loves when you kiss his neck.  

N - NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Neither of them want to share you ever.  They both are super overprotective and only want you to be their’s.  

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Eddie and Venom both LOVE to eat you out.  They love being in control and watching you squirm under them.  

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Both Eddie and Venom tend to be rough during sex.  Eddie is more on the sensual side, usually taking things slowly before getting rough.  But Venom loves to get rough real quick.  He slams into you as hard as he can and moves quickly inside you.  

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Venom would have sex with you anytime anywhere.  Eddie, however, prefers to take you home first.  So when Venom gets him worked up in public, Eddie usually rushes you home.  Whispering in your ear, “He’s decided it’s time.  We gotta go.”  It sends chills down your spine.  

R - Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Eddie is usually down for anything.  There are a few things Eddie won’t do.  But most of the time, Eddie loves to try anything you want.  He always has to be careful thought because Venom can get out of hand.  

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Eddie can go a few rounds, but does not want to overwork his partner.  Venom can go all night if he is feeling it.  He goes until he decides he is done.  After a night with Venom, you are usually so tired and worn out you are seeing stars.  

T  - Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

No.

U - Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Eddie adores teasing you in public.  Like if you are out at dinner, he loves inching his hand up your thigh.  He gets achingly close to your opening and just sits there.  Or he will lean into your ear and whisper something rather nasty.  “I’m gonna rip that little dress off you when we get home,” or “You have no idea what’s in store for you when we leave here.”  He loves driving you crazy.  

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

They both are not very loud.  Grunting and whispering your name or curses is about the loudest they get.  

W - Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Venom loves to wrap his long tongue around your neck.  He loves choking you with it.  The taste of your skin drives him crazy.  

X - X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Venom can be any size he wants.  Eddie is packing himself.  

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very.  Eddie wants to do it multiple nights a week.  Venom, however, would do you multiple times a day if you would let him.  This sometimes leads to Eddie having to take care of things himself.

Z - ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Eddie loves to cuddle afterward.  He will stay awake until you fall asleep.  He wants to make sure you are comfortable and cared for.  

~~~

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\\ If you no longer want to be tagged in my Venom x Reader Fics, please do let me know. Or if you would like to be tagged in future posts, let me know! //

[honestsycrets]

Flower Girl

❛ pairing | ragnarssons x reader

❛ type | drabble

❛ request |  Reader being the ragnarsons 'little flower' they all share affection for. (not jealous of eachother but a little possessive). And she's very cuddly, cute and innocent but witty and smart. The boys lust after her and love flirting with her to get her flustered, Please? I love your writing and I'm sorry if this is long and you don't have to write this its cool. I understand writers can be busy. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The basket on your arm bulges with gathered herbs. You ran your fingers over the lines of the garden where precious opium poppy grew. Your thumb cherished the soft petals as you thanked line after line of flowers for their work. “Thank you for your contribution, little plant. A lot of sick people will be happy now.”

The precious henbane grew like a weed around the settlement, and while you had need of it, it was not yours to take quite yet. Its own time would soon come. You stop at the pressure of something snaking tight around your ankle. Initially you think it might be a weed, but as it tugs and you softly shriek, you realize it isn’t a weed at all.

“Oh, Ivar!”

It’s just the snake of a boy who always sought you when you were here. Past the leaves that shield his long body, Ivar laughs full-heartedly at you. “I’ve caught you, little flower. You should be more careful. What if I were a lindworm? They enjoy beautiful things, you know.”

“Then I would be in great fear,” you say, hand to your chest. “More than I just was. Lindworms are greedy things.”

Ivar pulls himself upright, slapping his gloves together to rid them of mud. He mutters something soft, genuinely sweet under his breath. “So am I.”

“Don’t scare her, Ivar.” comes another voice. When you turn, you find that the eldest of the Aslaugssons came with Ivar too. “Lindworms are nothing to be afraid of. They’re easily slain.”

“You think you could slay one?”

“Shut up.”

“Ubbe,” you softly chide. “Were you watching me, too?”

“Maybe a little.” He stands with his arms crossed looking at you so intently that your cheeks warm at the thought. You came out to gather herbs early. Not early enough to evade the brothers.

“So then where are the others?”

“Coming. Hvitserk was not done eating.”

There is a surprise.

“Not Bjorn I hope? He… is…” you leave off, realizing you have already spoken too much. Having said too much already, you say a little more. “Forward.”

“By forward you mean annoying,” Ivar corrects.

Certainly he could be, pinning you up by your hips like that. Bjorn stole your first kiss. For it, you gave him a hell of a slap. Ubbe’s head bobs as if he’s agreeing to that much. You bend down beside Ivar, breaking free a plant to place in your basket. He works his jaw in question for what that was for. You lean into him, kissing the top of his sweaty, fuzzy head.

“Then I’ll need this after all.”

Drugging their brother was one way to go about it. Perhaps you weren’t as innocent as you looked. But maybe they liked that too.

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[akamaiden]

Kinktober Drabbles (V)

A/N: I know I'm late as fuck and I'm sorry! :(

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Kink: Praise kink.

Words: 450.

“Bucky,” you moaned. 

You heard him chuckling, hot breath so close to your ear that made you grip the sheets of the bed.

“What?” he asked you.

“Shouldn't you suppose to be running with Sam and Steve?” you asked.

It wasn't rude and he knew it. His touch was driving you insane. One hand in your hair massaging your scalp so slightly, the other hand gripping your hip in a possessive way that you loved so much. His voice whispering praises next to your ear, making your insides flip. 

“I should, but I want my girl now. My ever so sweet babygirl,” he said before biting your earlobe so softly, gaining moans from you.

“I want you,” you said. 

“And I want you too, doll.” Even without seeing you could feel that he was smiling, that goddamn smile that always made your knees so damn weak for him.

“You didn't understand,” you laughed.

“Enlighten me then, doll,” his voice sounded challenging.

“I want you inside me. Please,” you moaned all needy for him.

“Again?” he chuckled softly.

You nodded smiling. God, you wanted him all the time. And now that he just came back from a mission all touch starved? You wanted him even more.

“Your wish is my command,” he said and before you could think about something to say, his metal hand found your core. You shivered under the coolness of his fingers. 

“Bucky,” a full moan this time. His fingers circling your clit while he kept giving your neck open mouthed kisses.

“So damn beautiful, so wet and ready for me,” he said, voice sounding so fucking sexy that you almost lost it.

In the lack of words, all you could do was moan. Here and there saying pleas for him, begging shamelessly.

“Think you can cum like this?” he bit your shoulder.

“Yes, fuck yes Bucky,” you moaned. Truth be told, you were already close. Pussy clenching around nothing, toes curling already.

“You're doing so good, doll,” he said and before you knew he slid two fingers inside your pussy. 

“Squeezing me so well. Tell me, will you squeeze my cock just like that?” he said while curling his fingers inside you, hitting your g spot.

“Yeah,” you half moaned half screamed.

“Cum for me.”

It was an order and you knew it. And like always your body responded to him, your orgasm washing your body like a heat wave. The most sinful moan falling from your lips. 

Bucky rode you out of your orgasm with his fingers still inside you. 

“C'mon I'm not done taking care of my sweet girl,” he said. 

And with that you knew that you two wouldn't leave his room.

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[collecting-stories]

Preparation - Bjorn Ragnarsson

It's so hot so fast where I live, and I wish for fall and winter to come again 😂😂😂 do you think you could do a modern!Biorn imagine where he and the reader (maybe she's pregnant??) live in a cabin, and he's like chopping wood in prep for the cold months. Like "I gotta make sure baby Mama's warm for winter" 😍😍 or something along those lines? Thanks lots!!! I always love your writing

A/N: There is a brief mention of miscarriage.

Preparation - Bjorn Ragnarsson x reader

You woke up cold, having kicked the blankets off in the middle of the night. Autumn was fast approaching but it was still warm at night, especially combined with your just-starting-to-be-noticeable baby bump and Bjorn sleeping beside you. There was no noise inside the cottage aside from soft murmurs coming through the baby monitor on your bedside table. You stretched in bed, thinking about letting the oldest two occupy themselves for a little while longer and enjoying the empty bed. Sometimes it was nice just to stretch out and there was never room for that when Bjorn was around. Even though you’d invested in a larger bed your husband had a tendency to keep himself close to you at night and when the girls joined there was just a sliver of space left for you.  

A grunt sounded, not from the monitor but from the open window in your bedroom and you forced yourself out of bed to find Bjorn in the backyard, chopping away at thick wooden logs. Saturdays were spent doing chores around the house and judging by the pile he had woken up early to complete this particular one.

You turned off the baby monitor and headed for the girls bedroom, finding them both on the bed of your eldest Leonie. Both girls had their dolls spread out on the bed and they were whispering to each other, pretending to play.  

“Oh my goodness, a twister must’ve hit in here.” You laughed, picking Poppy up off the bed and holding her on your hip as Leonie stood up on the mattress.

“We were playing dolls. Daddy said not to wake you up.” Leonie replied, climbing down off the bed.

“Well that was very nice of you and Poppy.” You kissed your youngest on the head as you spoke.

“Breakfast?” Poppy asked.  

“Breakfast.” You confirmed, leading the way to the stairs so you could make them food. The windows were open in the kitchen and you could hear Bjorn outside, the bay window giving you a better view of your husband as he continued on the growing wood pile.  

You put Poppy down in the living room and told Leonie to keep an eye on her as you headed outside to “see what daddy’s up to” as you told the girls. Despite Ragnar having five sons and his father before him having two so far you and Bjorn had only girls and were expecting another. It was something you thought about quite a bit, more with each child born, and you wondered if he minded. His brothers all had a least one son and even his sister had two sons.  

Careful not to startle him when he was chopping wood, you walked into his line of vision. Bjorn brought his axe down into the tree stump he used as a base and took off his gloves when he saw you stop in front of him. You could practically hear the question on his lips as he eyed you over the bottle of water he was drinking from. Had he woken you?  

“It was cold for once.” You teased, “I must be so accustomed to over-heating that it woke me up.”

“Are the girls still in their room?”  

“I brought them down for breakfast, wanted to see if you wanted anything too?”  

“I’ll be in.” He replied, already starting to pull his gloves on again.

“You know we don’t need firewood yet Bjorn. It’s barely September.” You pointed out. It was far too hot to use the fireplace right now and if things went the way they did last year it would continue to be warm far into October.

“I want everything ready before it gets cold, don’t want you worrying about anything once you’re further along.” Bjorn replied, a softer look in his eyes as he glanced toward your stomach, protruding slightly from the pajama top that was becoming too small.  

“Next week is as good a time as any.” You suggested, reaching for his hand. “Come inside with me?”

Bjorn pulled you toward him, letting go of your hand and wrapping his arms around your shoulders so that he could keep you close. You hugged his waist and placed a kiss on his neck where your head was tucked. “I don’t want to forget anything.”  

Despite this being the third time that you were having a baby Bjorn had the same reaction with every baby. He got nervous the closer it got to the due date and silently worried if he had done everything he could do to prepare for the upcoming child. When Leonie was born, he’d almost missed the delivery he was so panicked about the car seat fitting into the car the right way. And when Poppy was born, he spent countless nights pouring over baby books that told him what every ailment might be. She had a nasty case of cradle cap and he was convinced she was terminally ill. He’d mellowed out with the girls that older they got. Now if Leonie fell off the porch and got a cut he only told her that she’d be fine and there was no use crying. He was the same with Poppy. But now that you were pregnant again his internal fears resurfaced and he worried tremendously, enough for both of you.

“Do you think...” you pulled away from him and he let you go, arms going to his sides. “Do you think you’d be less nervous if it was a boy?”

“No.” Bjorn replied, not even hesitating on the question. In truth some of his fears were not irrational.  

Leonie was six and Poppy was two, a wider age gap that Poppy and the new baby that existed because you had miscarried. The only boy you had ever been pregnant with and you had miscarried mere weeks before he was born. The doctor told you early on that you stood at a greater risk to have complications but you never thought they would result in the loss of your child. It took you three years to even consider trying again.

“Have you been thinking about him?” your husband asked, watching as you subconsciously rubbed your stomach.

“Not entirely. Just...Sigurd called the other day to say that they’re expecting another boy. It’s silly,” you shrugged, “an old tradition but, all your brothers have boys and you have none.”

“It is silly, you’re right.” Bjorn agreed. “Silly that you should think that matters to me. All that I care about is that you and the girls are safe and healthy and happy. And part of that is finishing with this wood pile so that you stay warm in the winter.”  

You laughed, shaking your head at his ability to switch from being serious to joking in a matter of seconds. Especially about something that was bothering you so much. “I’ll see you inside then?”

-

This is short. It’s been like a million years since I've written Bjorn. 

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[lisinfleur]

Ragnarssons In: Dangling

Author’s Notes | I almost had a heart attack when you told me you use this stuff. My catastrophic brain was able to found 984 different manners to be crippled falling from this stuff! Might Thor... Children, don't try this at home hahaha Info | Modern AU, requested by @moonlightsspirit ⁑ Warnings: Cursing

Björn

She can only feel his heavy and strong arm around her waist, lifting her up from the chairs and putting her down to the ground before taking the cloth she was using to clean the shelves from her hand.

"Did you go mad? I give you two minutes alone and you fucking try to kill yourself?"

Ubbe

All his tranquility with the idea he was able to skip the cleaning day go down to the ground when he sees her risking herself like this. Comes closer slowly, speaking loud enough to avoid scaring her or causing an accident.

"Babe... Are you trying to turn me single? You fall from this shit and I'll have to ask Ivar to borrow me his wheelchair! Come down from this shit, please?"

Hvitserk

Stops in front of her nearly stupefied by what she's doing, but the anger and concern are clear on the wrinkles of his forehead...

"What in the actual fuck are you gods' damn doing over this fucking unstable murderous thing you built here? Come down this shit right now!"

Sigurd

It takes a moment from him to notice what she's exactly doing, but as soon as he assimilates what she built under her feet, he let go of the bags he was bringing into the house and runs to hold her by her waist as if she was made of crystal and was about to fall...

"Mighty Thor and Wise Odin, what are you doing, love? You gonna fall from this stuff, for the lords' sake! Come down from this! Fuck... my heart... You gonna end up killing me this way!"

Ivar

Comes closer, looking at what she's doing with his best angry expression. His tone is annoyed and the irony in his voice can tell her he's REALLY pissed off...

"So this is how you try to kill yourself when I'm not around to prevent you from doing stupid things, is that it? Come fucking down from this shit, please? Next time you want to clean this damn house, we'll fucking pay someone to do it. No more risking your life for damn clean shelves, was I clear?"

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[missjackil]

Favorite stupid nickname of any character for another (or others)? One of my personal favorites is how Crowley called Castiel “Feathers” and “Pigeon”.

I love Moose the best, and it stuck. Even Jared likes the nickname. I like Metaron calling Cas “Asstiel” and of course “Squirrel” Im not going to say I like “Bitch/Jerk” as nicknames because theyre not really nicknames. Its more like an exchange like “I love you” because the boys dont CALL each other those names, its never “Hey Bitch, get me a beer!” ya know? I always wished Sam had a nickname for Dean, because siblings, even good friends, give each other nicknames. Some people have called Dean “Deano” but Sam never did, he technically called him Dee once but it was a fluke really. Probably a misstep from Jared, it actually sounds like “DeeDee” to me but its not something Id say is a nickname. Closest we have from Sam is “dude”, and “Sammy” sounds best coming from Dean. I like all the random nicknames Dean has called Sam, like Sasquatch and Little Big Man, but Sammy is my favorite :D

Ask Miss Jacki Day 9

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The One He Chose

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: After all this time has Ivar finally caught his wife's trail?

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda @letsshamelessqueen-m @my-soul-is-the-moon @we-are-transcendent

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Anyone working under the delusion that Ivar would accept the fact that his wife had escaped him eventually learned that would not be the case.

His men had stopped their violent search of Kattegat, just as he had promised Bjorn, but he was still searching for her.

Even as the months went on to become nearly a full year.

(Y/N) had been missing for ten months, one week and four days, Ivar was keeping count of his lonely nights. Despite how the people talked he had not let Freydis warm his bed in his wife’s absence.

Instead he spent most of his days and nights in his war room, looking over all the maps of other cities and villages that Kattegat traded with the most. He was furious at the fact that there had been no news from any of his informants, and his relationship with his brothers did little to comfort him.

Bjorn was, as he expected, furious at his sending off warriors to such vital trading cities. He had shouted himself nearly blue when he’d arrived at Ivar’s estate; of course he let the King do his whining and even allowed him to smash his war table in his tantrum, because to him none of it mattered.

His ships had sailed, his warriors deployed and there was nothing to be done about it; not by Bjorn or even himself. Hvitserk, like he always had, chose to remain neutral in the argument. Ubbe was clearly on Bjorn’s side, but unlike Bjorn, Ubbe seemed to understand why he had acted so hastily even if he disapproved of the actions.

Currently Ubbe was the only one of his brothers who had friendly conversations with him, and Ivar would never be able to express how much he appreciated the company in these hard months.

‘Still no news?’ Ubbe asked as they both sat on the beach and watched a merchant ship approach.

‘Nearly a hundred spies and no good news.’ Ivar sighed.

‘No good news?’ the eldest questioned.

‘My spies reported at last that they had a difficult time keeping track of (Y/N) in my time away, she would leave town alone around midday…and would not return home until nearly sunset.’ Ivar confessed, laying back in the sand and covering his eyes.

Ubbe felt his heart begin to beat faster, but he was not sure how much information Ivar truly had on the subject they were discussing.

‘You think she had an affair?’

‘I do not know, that is what tortures me brother. Not knowing things has always angered me, and now it seems I know less than ever. I don’t know if she was unfaithful, I don’t know where she is; all I know is she isn’t here.’

Ubbe had such conflicting feelings battling in his chest as he watched a few easy to miss tears roll down his brother's face. He was relieved to not have been discovered as (Y/N)’s lover, but still he was upset to see his brother in pain and know he was at least partially responsible for it.

‘If you think she was unfaithful why continue the search? Let go of your devotions and remarry, you have no obligations to her.’

'Why would I ever think such a thing?' Ivar asked, his anger visibly raising.

‘I will not let go, Ubbe.’ Ivar said as he sat back up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

‘Not of her, not my marriage and not my anger. I will find her and she will answer every question I have.’

‘But what if you don’t find her? So far it has been nearly a year and you have had no progression in your search. It pains me to see you destroying yourself and your reputation for one woman you can replace so easily.’

Ivar looked over at his brother incredulously.

‘She can’t be replaced, not by Freydis or any woman in this world. She feared me Ubbe, do you understand that? From the day we stepped into that insignificant Christian kingdom, she looked at an army and still she feared me the most out of them.’

‘Ivar, every woman you have spoken to fears you. It would be impossible to find a woman in Kattegat you did not terrify.’

‘I know that, but how many of them would be brave enough to marry someone as vicious as me? How many would make that sacrifice? She could have stayed quiet and let any of those women be dragged away, but she stepped forward. Those Christian men offered her up like a lamb for sacrifice and still she wanted them to live, and was even smart enough to know how to play my mind games.’ Ivar explained.

‘How could I replace a woman like that, a woman that brave, who fears a filthy cripple like me?’

Ubbe sighed and stood up, looking out at the sea and saw that the ship was nearly at the docks, but he decided he could offer his younger brother some advice.

‘You shouldn’t want her to fear you, Ivar. How can anyone love what they fear?’

Ivar looked taken aback, as if he’d never considered not terrifying his wife, but instead of responding he turned his focus over to the ship crew that was unloading the boat.

‘I don’t see how he thought he was secretive?’ one of the men said casually as he helped to dock the ship.

‘He’s young, he’s never smuggled a damn thing and it shows,’

Ivar’s ears perked up upon hearing this conversation and he quickly called the two merchants over; abandoning his own chat with Ubbe.

The two men looked over at the princes curiously; as they had not been aware of the chaotic search for the Christian nun that had occurred while they were at sea.

‘Prince Ivar, Prince Ubbe.’ one of them greeted and the other nodded in agreement.

‘I’m happy that the Gods brought you all back to us, I would like to treat your crew to a small feast on my estate in the next fortnight.’ Ivar said cheerily.

Ubbe quickly understood the game Ivar was playing and he decided he wanted no part in it at all.

He bid his brother a less than polite goodbye and left the two men to Ivar’s manipulation.

A feast for a simple unimportant ship crew was unheard of, especially a feast given by a prince. It would have been considered a great sign of disrespect to decline his hospitality.

The two men thanked Ivar for his unwarranted kindness and went to let the others know that they would all, along with their families, be expected at the youngest Prince’s estate.

Ivar watched the ship crew discuss their surprising treat and he pulled himself up onto his crutches and began to walk back to the markets.

As he limped along his way he subtly motioned for one of his spies, a thrall working outside of the butcher’s stand, to walk along side him.

Obediently the man followed the wordless order and matched Ivar’s pace.

‘Everyone under my purse is to watch the men on the merchant ship that just docked. Every man is to be followed for the next fortnight. I will expect daily reports if anyone fails to report even one hour of their actions I will have them hung.’ Ivar said strictly not looking at the man at all.

As he had wished, his warning went a long way in getting the results he wanted. He received reports in the crewmens’ every action, he’d even gotten reports describing their trips into the woods to relieve themselves.

Still no news of his wife or of what the two men suspected a crew mate of smuggling, but Ivar was sure that this was the right ship.

He had discovered the ship had sailed off the morning after (Y/N) had vanished.

Ivar tasked his thralls with preparing for the feast and he was impressed with how well they had performed.

By the night his feast was set to happen he had large tables sat outside under a cloudless starlit sky and there were heaps of fine dishes and mead as well as wine from England.

The crewmen were all in awe of the extravagant show of hospitality and everyone gave him their thanks in person.

Ivar mingled among them and was pleased that the news of his wife's disappearance had become common knowledge to all of the men.

‘May I speak with you Prince Ivar?’ one of the men asked as he approached the high table.

Ivar was quick to recognize the man as one of the men he’d spoken to on the beach.

‘Of course come with me.’

With a great amount of control Ivar calmly led the man into his home away from the festivities.

‘What would you like to discuss?’ the prince asked.

‘Forgive my intruding, but I have heard of your wife’s disappearance, and I- I think I have some information to give.’ I asked.

This was what Ivar had planned; to give the crew such a grand feast that at least one man would be grateful enough to betray one another.

‘Please, I would owe you an unimaginable debt if you could help me find my wife.’ Ivar said cunningly.

‘I can’t be sure if it was your wife, all I know is that Amund had someone in that crate. We more experienced in smuggling saw him speaking with it, sliding his rations into it even.’ the old man said.

‘A crate?’ Ivar asked.

‘Yes, big crate, it could easily fit one person, maybe even two.’

‘Two?’ Ivar said, feeling his grip on his crutch tighten in his anger.

She’d had an affair and ran off with some nobody; she’d decided weeks locked in a crate with another man was better than the rest of her life with him.

‘You said this man’s name was…?’ Ivar questioned, struggling to keep his anger hidden.

‘Amund, strong boy; he went ahead of the rest of us and the first thing off the boat was the crate.’

Ivar took in all this information, trying to piece together what all this implied and he determined he needed more to work with.

‘Tell me, what happened after the merchandise was unloaded. Did he hide the crate?’

‘No, the crate was in the assigned room when we all brought in the rest, still nailed shut too. The Earl granted us his hospitality to rest after our journey.’

Again Ivar was silent, trying very hard to picture in his mind what could have happened. If (Y/N) was in the crate and this Amund was the one responsible for getting her out why did he leave it sealed?

‘Big enough for two…’ he mused, thinking that if there was a man strong enough inside with her he could break out of the crate with her then she could have escaped with him.

‘Was this crate ever damaged, or moved?’ he asked the crewman.’

‘No, at least not to my knowledge, but the journey had been harder on my body than usual in my advanced age. When the Earl offered us rest I rested, but I did hear rumors.’ the man continued.

‘Rumors?’

‘The merchants spoke of one of our crewmen walking into the Great Hall carrying an unconscious woman. I never saw her, but she was the topic of much gossip while we restocked the ship.’

‘Did anyone on your ship see this woman, even a glimpse of her?’

‘I can not say with certainty, I can only say that Amund smuggled someone out of Kattegat.’

The anger for the old man’s lack of knowledge was red hot and only cooled by his relief of finally having a lead.

Thank you for telling what you could, please enjoy the feast with your family. It is a celebration in the honor of you and all traders like you, what would our world look like without brave men like you all.’ the prince complimented as he dismissed the man.

As soon as the man was out of earshot Freydis, silent as death, immerged from the shadows of the dim lit room.

‘Spread the word, I want this man, Amund identified, and followed. He shouldn’t be able to sneeze without me knowing when and where.’ Ivar ordered, his voice much harder than it had been mere seconds ago.

‘For how long?’

‘As long as it takes for him to let down his guard and let the information slip.’

While Ivar’s spies began to focus on Amund, all the way in Denmark, (Y/N) was adapted into her new life.

In the first week of her new life as a thrall she quickly realized two things.

The first was that the life of a nun and the life of a thrall was eerily similar in many regards. An older, more hardened and experienced woman would assign tasks to her and then would judge if the task was completed correctly and met her standards. If she did well she would be given another, often more challenging task, but if it did not meet Hilda’s standards there was punishment.

It was a rare occasion when (Y/N) was on the receiving end of Hilda’s wrath, which was why her punishments always seemed so harsh in comparison to the other girls.

The second thing was that, even despite the hatred the head thrall clearly had for her, she greatly preferred the life of a thrall over the life she had fled from.

Sure the shed the thralls all shared was cold and hardly much of a shelter at all but she slept fine knowing she wouldn’t wake up to Ivar’s rage.

And even better she found other Christians among the women she now shared status with.

It felt as if she had been welcomed into a new church, even if it had only been a small circle consisting of three women of various ages.

There was Kendra, the youngest being only around nineteen who had been captured and sold from York. Dawn was in her mid thirties and was a cook, she had never said where she was from originally, just that she had been only thirteen when she became the old cook’s apprentice. Finally there was Megan who was closer to (Y/N)’s age being twenty four, she was originally from Essex.

After two years of hiding her faith from her tyrannical husband, praying amongst others was euphoric. Holding hands in prayer was what she looked forward to most when she awoke at first light.

Every morning she would be awakened by Hilda whacking a wooden stick against the walls of the shed from outside before the doors of the shed were thrown open.

‘Get up! Work to be done!’ she boomed unnecessarily.

It was common knowledge that anyone still laying down by the time the doors opened would not only be promptly hit with the stick but they also would get no first meal.

The term meal was used loosely, it was only gr Rx bone broth and uncooked crops or, if they were so lucky, scraps from feasts.

Today’s meal was bone broth and carrots, after receiving her portion (Y/N) went to the corner with her small group and they shared a brief prayer over your meal before eating quickly.

‘What is your chore list today Kendra?’ she asked the youngest.

‘Caring for the Earl’s stock.’ was the answer she was given.

‘Be sure you give the chickens enough, the last few we’ve cooked were more feathers than meat.’ Dawn sighed.

‘I will be…preparing for a visitor.’ Megan said quietly, hardly touching her small meal.

At this all of them went silent.

Megan was often used as a cleaning girl around the great hall, but on the rare occasion that the Earl had important company she was a bed warmer.

It was a truly horrible fate for any woman but it seemed to be an especially cruel task for a Christian.

Every night before Hilda came in to order everyone to sleep they all joined hands in a silent prayer, but even still it was obvious Megan only prayed for God’s mercy and forgiveness.

(Y/N) reached out and took Megan’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

‘God knows your heart and he knows your mind and spirit. He knows what sins you choose to commit and he knows the sins done against you. He will always forgive your sins and in time he will punish those who have sinned you.’ she encouraged.

Megan held onto the hand that she had been offered. Of course all the women of this small congregation were close, but Megan had such a strong connection and admiration for (Y/N).

The lie that Amund had told the Earl was widely believed and widely discussed in the markets. Meaning it was well known that (Y/N) was a runaway bed warmer herself.

It was for this reason that Megan looked at (Y/N) such wonder and great respect. In her unknowing eyes (Y/N) had done the impossible; escaped a lifetime of being nothing but a common whore for Pagans.

‘Hurry up you dogs! There's work to be done and if even one task isn’t completed then no one eats tonight!’ Hilda’s voice boomed.

Realizing that she hadn’t been focusing on her already cooling broth (Y/N) quickly drank the remaining liquid in the wooden bowl and stuck her carrots into her skirts.

Hopefully she would get a moment to sneak away and eat them before nightfall, if not then she would give it away to a beggar.

They all arose and set out to their assigned work locations.

Hilda sent a glare of pure malice at (Y/N) as she passed her on the way out of the shed.

‘If I hear so much as a word against you from the healers I’ll have you flogged.’ the old haggish woman warned.

‘Yes Hilda.’ (Y/N) replied, the air of respect and responsibility in her tone before she went on.

She had been assigned as a healer’s apprentice due to her telling the Earl she had some experience in that field of work.

Her days were spent gathering herbs and roots, mixing and brewing, occasionally there will be a person who is injured or falls so ill they need physical care and when that happens she would be the one to give them care. She would clean them, try to close up or disinfect their wounds and feed them remedies.

Today when she entered the healer’s hut she was met with the now familiar scent of living rotting flesh.

‘Girl.’ the healer, an old ragged woman named Skadi, called to her from the table where she was laying out her supplies.

‘Who is it?’ the thrall asked as she approached.

‘One of the Earl’s blacksmiths; got his foolish self cut and didn’t think to clean the sore.’

‘Infection, can it be treated?’

‘No, but he’ll survive.’ Skadi said sadly as she placed her necessary materials on a tray.

There were ropes to tie off the blood flow and restrain him, a leather strap to keep the man from biting off or swallowing his tongue, and a red hot ax in order to both remove the limb and cauterize the wound.

You hated doing this but it was necessary, the hut stunk with infection but it didn’t smell of death quite yet.

The man was older, maybe forty but clearly he’d lived a hard life to reach that age. He was quiet but his chest was heaving as if he had been fighting for each breath. His eyes were screwed shut and his head was turned away from his rotting hand.

It truly was disgusting to see a hand that mangled. The wound was still open, but no longer bleeding leaving an open gash caked in blackened blood and crusted puss.

She went about tying him down, making sure to be extra precise when restraining the arm that would soon be handless.

This was how she spent her days, in the hut with the sick and injured. It was a far cry from her old life in Kattegat. She was no longer a prince’s wife that was tended to by a full staff of thralls. Now she was herself thrall and she was called upon to do hard, truly hard, work and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaving the hut for the day (Y/N) found herself exhausted but hopeful that the man would be ok once he was rested.

As she made her way back to the shed she chomped on the carrots she had stored away from breakfast, thankful to have them at least in case someone really didn’t finish their chores and no one was given dinner tonight.

It was as she finished her last carrot that something compelled her to look over at the beach as she neared the shed.

There was a ship, of course there was a ship at the beach; where else would a ship be if not at sea. That wasn’t what made her stop in her tracks, it was undoubtedly a Kattegat ship.

By no means was (Y/N) an expert on such things but after two years she could single out Floki’s handiwork from any other boat builder.

Those sails, the dragon figurehead…that was not a merchant ship.

With her heart racing she hurried into the shed and huddled into the corner where she slept, but she did not lay down.

She just sat with her hands fiddling with the threads of her skirts, as she thought back to the morning conversation she’d had.

A visitor, an important enough visitor to be offered a bed warmer.

How had she not thought to ask who this visitor was? She prayed with all her heart that it wasn’t Ivar, but there was no way to be sure.

No, Ivar couldn’t know which boat you snuck onto, even if he did he wouldn’t just devote himself to hunting you.

At least not personally.

Ivar was a prince of a wealthy kingdom, as well as a respected warlord in his own right. What man would dare to disobey him if he ordered them to find you.

Everything was hitting her all at once.

She would have to leave tonight…run until she made it to the next town.

With what? No food, supplies or weapons to protect yourself? This wasn’t like the cold journey to Floki’s that last night. This would be a three day trip by foot. Not to mention it was no longer winter. It was spring and roads would be busy and therefore dangerous. A woman in rags traveling alone was little more than an invitation for a rapist on his way.

It wasn’t ideal by any means but it was either risk the dangers of the road or stay and be turned over to Ivar by whatever man Ivar had sent after her.

‘(Y/N), you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ Kendra said as she sat beside her.

‘Not to be dramatic, but it feels as if I have.’

[sepherinaspoppies]

series taglist (2):

@moose-squirrel-asstiel @tssf-imagines @possiblyafangirl @draganaludoski @ladythornofrivia @abecerra611 @ssnapsaurus @itsbqueenthings @frickidyfrog @inxiis

Be Strong My Heart

ꕥseries masterlist & taglist ⋆. 𐙚 ˚regular masterlist ✧₊⁺AO3

⟢summary: After she gives birth, she has a fun night with her husband. Until it is ruined by reminders of her past and possible future.

⟢pairing: Original Female Character x Original Male Character x Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen.

⟢warnings: mentions of Aemond only, mentions of past trauma (inflicted by Aemond), OC is latina, OC name reveal!, make out sesh, aphrodisiacs made by a witch, palm reading, Oral F receiving, P in V sex, and plot twist at the end.

⟢wc: 4,103

⟢gif credit: @thiskryptonite

⟢notes:This is a drabble to my main story Only If For A Night. So future spoilers!!!! I've decided to skip the birthing part of this story for later lol. World building details are heavy in this drabble 👀

Two months after she’d given birth, her abuela, Selena, suggested for her and Armando to take a little break from their little one. 

While normally any parent would be overjoyed at the given opportunity of having a night out, she felt the opposite. 

The twenty-five year old had a strong instinct to keep her baby at least in line of sight and in arms’ reach at all times. Even going as far as using the bathroom and cooking with him all while attached to her hip or on a sling. 

Selena disapproved of this, saying the baby will grow to be unusually clingy to her at all times as he gets older and that now was as good a time as any to get a little separation. 

Even if it was for one night. 

As a result, Armando surprised her by gifting her a flowy and bright red dress that ended right below her knees. The color accentuated not only her tanned skin but every inch of her curves. 

And there were many new curves, now that she became a first time mother. 

Selena helped curl her hair as well as adding a bit of eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick as the color of her dress. While Armando made the bold choice of cutting his lengthy curls that she came to adore so much.

The Mexican heat was no joke, though. She too, wanted to cut her hair to at least shoulder length but she quite enjoyed braiding her hair in all sorts of different styles to do so. 

After the couple finished getting ready, they both said their short goodbyes to their son and it took everything in her to not cry and stay home. 

“He’ll be alright, cariño.” Armando reassured as he drew small soothing circles at the back of her hand. “Selena knows what she’s doing and she even said that if anything happens, she’ll give us a call.”

She knows this. Selena made her aware, before they left, that she managed to raise four children, with Vidalio to occasionally help whenever he wasn’t working. 

“I know, it’s just…” she stopped walking to sit on a nearby bench with Armando trailing behind her. 

Armando’s brown eyes deeply looked up to her with concern. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?” He whispered with a hint of anger lacing his tone. 

Armando Flores never considered himself a man of anger or violence, but when it came to Aemond Targaryen, he did not mind going to jail for brutally killing his white ass after the trauma he caused his wife. 

Whenever the twenty-five year old wasn’t working or helping taking care of their son, he practiced his fighting skills outside in his makeshift gym, using a sword his wife called Blackfyre. The sword felt appropriate in his hand, and Armando came to love the intricate metal work.

Apparently it was made from a special type of magical steel that originated in Old Valyria.

Wherever the hell that was. 

In his anger, he pictured using Blackfyre against Aemond Targaryen. 

“It’s highly unlikely that he’ll come here; Alys said so.” Armando consoled. “It’s been almost a year, and if he hasn’t come it’s because Alys did something right.” 

A part of her wanted to tell Armando that he was a fool to place his trust on Alys. 

The Witch Queen had been a good help during the last few weeks of her pregnancy. Although she accepted her help, she couldn’t help but to feel wary of her. Rightfully so. 

But her distrust with Alys spiked higher when the green eyed woman cradled her son, minutes after he was born, and whispered: “my baby.” 

Since then, she felt as if Alys was hiding something. So she kept the medieval witch in arms length. 

“Or he’s waiting for the perfect moment to come,” she added rather quietly. She felt paranoid and scared that something or someone was lingering nearby just waiting to take her and her son to the world she escaped from and back to the arms of the man she loathed. 

Armando lifted her chin with his hands, gazing upon the panicked look in her eyes. “Listen to me and know this. I will never let that pinche puto come and take my family. Not now and not ever. I will fight for us until my last dying breath. You are safe with me. Do you understand?” 

She never witnessed this impassioned side of Armando before and she could perceive that he meant every word besottedly. 

She nodded as her eyes trailed to his lips then to his deep dark brown eyes. It was unclear who kissed who first, it did not matter. She kissed her true husband back with equal passion. 

Somewhere between steamy kisses, loud cheers followed by lewd whistling were heard from in front of them causing the couple to blush from the apples of their cheeks to the tips of their ears. 

“¡Consíganse un cuarto!” 

She pulled away and hid her face in Armando’s chest as he laughed in return. “That sounds like a good idea. Right, cariño?” Armando teased, tickling her sides. 

She hummed following his playful manner, “perhaps we will tonight. It’s been so long since I’ve had a ride.” 

It took approximately thirty minutes of convincing Armando to not go back to their home after that comment. 

Her husband made it clear that he would get her back for that. Honestly she couldn’t wait. 

Instead, she redirected his attention towards the busy streets of the Oaxacan City. Almost every street was filled with tourists, waiting to get a glimpse of the soon to be Dia De Los Muertos parade. 

Armando commented that some of the locals weren’t particularly fond of them, saying that some –if not all– raised the prices on goods and treated the natives rudely. 

“They’re in our land enjoying the food, festivities, and our hospitality and yet they have our people deported. It doesn’t sound right, does it?” 

No it did not. 

Armando then led her away from the town square, into a part of the city where there were no tourists in sight. 

Laughter and loud music filled her ears from every establishment. So much so that her body began to sway into the rhythm of every music.

But one song in particular caught her attention. She recognized the song as one of her favorites from childhood. 

It was Myriam Hernández’s El Hombre Que Yo Amo. 

“Do you like this song?” Armando asked once he noticed his love stopped walking all together. 

She flashed him a sad smile. “Yea. It was mi abuelo’s favorite song. He’d always put it on just for mi abuela to sing it to him.” Selena always sang beautifully better than any artist she ever heard. And because of this Vidalio, seized every opportunity to play any song just to hear her sing. 

“I bet you miss him. I know I do.”

“Yes, I do.”

For the next several minutes, they greeted a few of Armando’s work friends and their wives, as they too longed to get away from tourists. Naturally, they invited her and Armando to a dance hall well known for playing good music in all of the city. 

However, she wasn’t one bit bothered by the warnings of her husband’s friends when they told her that the hall happened to be constantly crowded by many people. 

So she followed their small group into a small white building that she could see was filled to the brim with multiple people. Martin, whom Armando whispered was his boss’ son, got the six of them inside free of charge and without the expense of waiting in line that wrapped two streets over. 

Armando attempted to at least offer Martin money for the tickets but the raven haired man declined. Yet, Armando went as far to pay for drinks but Martin disclosed that they sold nothing but cheap beer.

He instead told them to enjoy the night as his wife, Ariana, dragged him towards the front of the dance floor. 

“So what do you feel like dancing to, cariño?” Armado asked, close to her ear. “At this point anything.” She said as she playfully kissed the tip of his nose. 

There were three floors to the club. From cumbias, norteñas, bachatas, and salsas they danced it all in a span of three very short hours. She almost didn’t want to leave if not for the heel breaking apart in the middle of the dance floor.

The pair laughed it off, taking it as a sign to go home back to their little one. They said their goodbyes to Armando’s work friends before they left and took up on their offer to come back around the same time next week. 

With her heel broken, Armando hoisted her up bridal style, unbothered by her sheer weight and carried her all throughout an isolated beach. 

The fresh breeze made for a perfect cooling. Their dancing had left them feeling warmer than ever. 

More than anything she craved a cool bath. 

The beach right beside them was tempting. 

“Oh look, there's a bar right over there. Wanna get a drink?” 

She gestured to her broken heel as a reply, which made Armado chuckle. “I’ll still carry you in, unless they have a shoe policy.” 

She giggled as they made their way inside the bar. Right away, she was hit by a cloud of smoke. Though, not of cigarettes but incense. 

The interior of the bar was the same as the exterior; with bright red walls. At the very top shelf of drinks, was a painted sign of the establishment’s name. 

El Bar del Dragon. 

The Dragon’s Bar. 

“Bienvenidos!” 

A tall figure greets as it steps out of a beaded curtain behind the bar. 

A woman. 

She stood wearing a long metallic lilac dress with endless amounts of silver jewelry on her wrists and fingers. But the one piece of jewelry that caught her eye the most was the heavy silver necklace decorating her around neck opulently with star like sapphires and emeralds. 

Once, she considered Alys to be the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. However, the woman standing just a few feet away was in fact more beautiful. 

Goddess like. 

The woman wore a headscarf, covering her hair but a single loose blonde curl hung down from the sides. A beaded veil concealed the lower half of her face, with only her mismatched eyes exposed to her viewing. 

She heard Armando suck in a breath beside her. He too was frozen by the woman’s appearance. 

“¿En qué les puedo ayudar?” The woman asked as she placed two coasters on the bar table. “El especial de hoy es un cóctel para los enamorados. Hecho con granadas y especias picantes.” 

Armando glanced between the woman and his wife, before he sat her on a bar stool beside him. 

“T-that sounds good to me,” Armando stuttured, avoiding the woman’s stare. “Y tu, cariño?” 

“I’ll have the same.” 

Once the woman occupied herself by preparing the drinks, she peered over at Armando. Her poor husband looked like she’d seen a ghost. 

“Are you okay?” She questioned, placing her hand on his bouncing thigh causing him to jolt up with wide eyes. “You were staring pretty hard…at her.” 

There was an odd feeling in her chest. It was deep and twisting with rage and anxiety. And it took her a while to realize that the feeling was jealousy. 

Armando shook his head rapidly. “Oh, no. It’s not that, cariño.” She gave him a look which made him glance back at the woman momentarily before he lowered himself to her height.  

“I don’t know what it is but she looks like you.” Armando whispers. 

“What?!” She says a little too loudly. 

“—A lover’s cocktail for you both.” The woman announced as she placed their two red drinks on the table. 

Just when she was going to briefly thank the woman, she suddenly grabbed ahold of her hand to admire the wedding ring that Armando had placed on her finger. 

“This is such a beautiful ring. Where I come from, pearls are said to be a dragon’s tear. A very powerful little gem.” 

The veiled woman couldn’t proceed with her praises towards the comely ring as her eyes landed on another certain ring. 

“Oh, but this one! This is the most exquisite one. A sapphire such as this one is a very rare find. Your husband must love you greatly.” 

Armando had not given her that ring. 

In fact it was Aemond who did almost a year ago. 

Discarding the ring was a plausible option. If not for the fact that the wedding ring was actually Selena’s own wedding ring when she married Vidalio. 

It was a great mystery how her grandmother’s wedding ring inexplicably disappeared just days before she was transported to Westeros and then suddenly reappeared the night that Aemond forcefully married her. 

Because of this, she could not be rid of it. 

She told herself multiple times that the ring served as a reminder of both of her grandparents whom she loved rather than that delusional puto that traumatized her horribly.  

“You have such interesting hands. Might I have a look?” The woman inquired a little too enthusiastically. 

She narrowed her eyes on her. A sense of uncertainty and curiousness clouds her mind. 

“You mean to read my palm?” 

The woman simply nods. “Yes. However, I could always be wrong about these things.” 

Alys offered once to do this to her, but she declined as her distrust for the witch grew each day. 

Though, this woman was a stranger who knew absolutely nothing about her. If anyone was going to read her fate, it would be her rather than Alys who could alter it without her consent as she had done so in the past. 

“Alright.” 

The woman brought her hand closer to the light and began to examine her palm extensively, caressing the planes and lines around her palm. 

Every so often she’d hum and glanced at her confusingly, and she thought perhaps she found something about the one person she didn’t want to know of. 

“Well, I am indeed right about your hands being interesting. There are strange patterns I’ve only seen once in a young woman many years ago. Yours are more… challenging to make out.” She clicks her tongue before she analyzes around her thumb area. “For starters, you are strong minded and born with a warrior’s heart within. Which comes in hand for the challenges you are about to face. And because of these difficult trials you’ve been bestowed gifts from your lineage.” 

She, then, proceeds to chuckle and raise her brow at her. “There’s a great elevation surrounding your mount venus which means there’s a substantial amount of passion in your bed.”

She couldn’t help but to feel herself blush at the woman’s confession. 

“Your life line’s disrupted or torn and there’s bits and pieces in the past, present, and future all intertwined.” The woman pauses as she glances between her and Armando, who sat eerily quiet or intrigued. 

“The marriage line is split between two marriages. But they don’t appear to be…broken.”

The skepticism and curiousness within her morphs into fear, like every single strand of hair in her arms stands. 

She means to pull her hand away, but she can detect that the woman senses what she’s feeling and twists her hand to the side for another look. 

“On a positive note, you will birth many children—”

“—That’s enough.” She speaks before she had the chance to continue. 

The room somehow feels a little harder to breathe and she takes her hand away, offering the woman a glare. She swears she sees a faint–knowing smirk through the beaded veil. 

She never took to notice the color of her eyes. One dark blue and one bright green. She had the faintest memory of seeing them before. 

“Armando, vamonos.” 

Her husband stands and offers the woman a couple of pesos from his pocket before he follows his wife outside without so much as bidding a farewell to the woman. 

They walked along the coast in complete silence the rest of the way home. 

She tried to set aside what the woman had concealed at the back of her mind as if what she said didn’t mean anything to her. 

Knowing how she is, every detail that the woman said would keep her up at night. Another endless cycle of attempting to tell herself that Aemond and his wrath would not come for her and her husband and son. 

Just before Armando reached the handle of their back door, she stopped him. 

“I don’t want to go back in yet,” she said. “I have something I want to say something before our night ends.” 

Armando nodded as he followed her back into the beach. 

“I know things could always change, but when he comes—”

“—He won’t.”

She nodded, understandingly. “If he does. I won’t let him tear us apart. I will fight for us too.” 

Her eyes searches for his and even through the moonlight, she finds his own full of warmth and adoration. 

She is nearly chest to chest with him, and she brings both of her arms up to press herself against him. She feels his heart speeding faster as she stands on her tippy toes and closes the very little gap between them into a hungry kiss.

Armando’s hands rest on her hips as he parts his mouth open to dance his tongue with hers. She faintly the taste of pomegranates and a spice that sparks a fire from within. 

She gasps for air as she breaks their kiss and takes a glance at the beach in front of them. An idea forms into her mind, making no attempt to dissuade herself. 

“What are you doing?” Armando breathes, watching his wife unbutton the rest of his shirt. 

“I want you,” she answers, tracing his tanned muscles, relinquishing the soft sighs that leaves his lips. 

Armando’s fists the skirt of her dress, eyes momentarily landing on the full rounded shape of her breasts. 

“You’ve been ogling them all night,” she points out, reaching behind her to loosen the ribbon that held the dress together. Then all at once she lets the dress pool down at her feet, Armando’s eyes widened at the lovely bare sight of her flesh. 

“Is this why you picked this dress?” She hums as she brings his palms to rest and squeeze each breast. 

“P-partially.” He admits, adorning each breast with kisses and bites before he kneels right in front of her figure and slides of her underwear off along the pile of clothes. “But also because you look breathtaking in red.” 

She but all mewls as Armando kisses her center, dragging his tongue until it begins to unabashedly lick her wetness, causing her hips to jerk more to his face. 

She find it impossible to stand as sweet pleasure consumes her lower belly. Her husband realizes this in between licks and places one of her hands on his curls and the other on his shoulder for support. 

He moans at her pleasant taste that he’d been deprived of for so long. She was so wet and sweet for that he finds it hard to ever want to stop. 

“I’m so close,” she pants as she presses Armando’s head closer to her cunt. There’s a part of her that misses the feeling of his beard and mustache between her legs. Making a mental small note to herself to never let him shave again. 

What comes next makes her mouth drop open, almost falling to edge of euphoria as Armando inserts a finger inside of her then another, pumping and curling it upwards to that spot that is throbbing full of need. 

She tries to say his name, to warn him that she’s about to release but all Armando does is lick, suckle her bud and pumps his fingers faster. 

She knows Armando senses it by the way her legs shake and are unable to keep herself up, with loud whines and pants filling his ears. 

Armando’s lascivious eyes were on her the entire as she fell apart all for him and he drank her honeyed release like a man starved. 

Once he knew his wife was cleaned enough by his soft licks, he pressed a kiss at the dark curls atop of her mound and rested his face there, breathing in her scent he loved so much. 

She takes in a moment to breathe through the waves of pleasure while her legs ached and begged for relaxation. So with trembling legs, she sits on top of her dress careful not to sit on sand. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Armando compliments beside her. She blushes and spots the evidence of her release on his lips and she can’t help but to capture his lips into a kiss, tasting herself on him. 

Midway into the kiss, Armando pulls her into his lap where she already feels his clothed hardness on her center. 

The fire in her gut, once again, implores to burn once more and surely she listens to that feeling as her fingers work the button and zipper of his jeans and pulls them down past his knees until Armando kicks them off himself just as eagerly as she. 

She stares at his length pulsating with need. There is beads of his own arousal on the head of cock and she licks her lips wanting to also have a taste of him. 

“As much as I want to be in your mouth, I really need to be inside of you, cariño.” 

She swallowed and nodded as Armando spread her dress on the sand for him to properly lay on. 

“We have to go slow. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

She knows this. It’d been almost three months since they were intimate in any way. A week ago, she’d been cleared to safely enjoy her husband again but slowly and careful enough to not rip the stitches that had been sewed after birth. 

Armando grunted as she grabbed the base of him between her folds, gathering her slick for some aid. 

The tip of his cock prodded against her entrance until she slowly sank herself down on him. She breathed in through the sharp sting shooting through her while Armando messaged her breasts and whispered praises. 

She began to grind against him at a slow pace all whilst feeling Armando’s cock throb inside of her. 

After a while, every grind began to alleviate the pain into hot blinding pleasure. And her legs shifted so that she could bounce on his length in an angle she came to love. 

Armando spewed out some curses at tightness of her walls engulfing him. After many months, he didn’t think he could last and he prayed for it to not be over so soon. 

“Eres mi único esposo,” she claims as she starts to chase the knot that was close to being lose again. 

Armando blinks as he thrusts his hips up at the same rhythm. “Yes!” 

She watches through her own half lidded eyes as tears began to form on her husband’s eyes. “Nadie más. Eres mío. Solo mío.” 

A series of moans escape Armando as he reaches between where they were joined as one and circles her bud, causing her to whine and grind faster and faster. 

“Soy todo tuyo, Vidalia!” 

At mention of her name, her jaw goes slack as she spasms around him. Armando kept up his thrusts upwards as he too came with a loud cry. 

With him still inside her, she rested her body on top of his, awarding his chest with open mouthed kisses. 

“Gods, I hope no one saw us.” She giggled. 

“My father gave me this land, which includes the beach. So technically if anyone trespasses it’s on them.” Armando informs as he traces small figures at her back. 

“Well that explains why I’ve never seen anyone on this side of the beach before.” 

Armando hums, “Right before my father died, he said he bought this land just for the beach itself. He believed that the water held some magical power and spent most of his life researching it before he gave up.” 

“How did he come to believe that?” She asked. 

“He said, he sailed on this very beach and he landed in a desert not of Mexico. But the people there resembled people like us.” 

She watched as his face morphed into sadness.

“He met my mother there.” Armando confessed.

note 2: I watched the new Captain America movie (a month ago rip) and because the new Falcon (aka Joaquin Torres, aka Danny Ramirez), the face claim for Armando was on it, I got inspired to write more about him.

Any guesses to who these mysterious characters might be 👀👀👀

For those waiting for chapter 4 of Only If For A Night, I might release it mid April as I'm writing an Aemond x Aegon threesome fic lol.

translations (in order):

-cariño: darling

-pinche puto: fucking bitch

-Consíganse un cuarto: get a room!

-Dia De Los Muertos: day of the dead

-mi abuelo's: my grandfather’s

-mi abuela's: my grandmother’s

-Bienvenidos:  welcome

-En qué les puedo ayudar: What can I help you with?

-El especial de hoy es un cóctel para los enamorados. Hecho con granadas y especias picantes: Today's special is a lover’s cocktail. Made from pomegranates and spicy spices.

-vamonos: lets go

-Eres mi único esposo: you are my only husband 

-Nadie más. Eres mío. Solo mío: no one else. You are mine. Only mine

-Soy todo tuyo: just yours

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here! < This is Part 20!>

Donate to Move to Higher Ground HERE!

A/N: There’s not going to be an update on Wednesday (it’s the day after my birthday and I’m going to go cry at the space station) lol. The next two parts will be like - alternative timeline/pov/intermission posts. Which will just be to add some depth to the story I guess. Stay safe! See you next Saturday!

* “Get out”

* You can’t have been parked more than five minutes before Jessica prys the driver side door open from the outside

* You’re hunched over the binder in your lap, hurriedly scrawling answers onto the worksheet

* Edward just sighs, moving to get out of the car

* “Wait-“

* You stop him by placing your hand on his shoulder

* Edward grins, so these are boyfriend privileges huh?

* You’re going to pick him over your human friends. Well he would be lying-

* “Give me the answer to the last question before you go.”

* Edward deflates

* Guess somethings don’t change.

* “It’s sin(x) equals 18”

* You nod, quickly writing down the answer

* “Thanks Edward.” You mumble learning over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek

* “Now get out”

* He stands outside the jeep a goofy grin on his face, a hand touching the place your lips were on his cheek

* Well at least some things change

* You don’t miss Jessica’s gaze on you as you put your binder into your backpack

* “So... what do you want to talk about Jess?”

* You don’t miss the incredulous look she gives you

* “So about Edward then”

* “Yeah, no duh”

* You let out a deep sigh

* “Where do you want me to start?”

* How far back does this story even go?

* Probably when you saw him that first time in Denali

* His angular face, and those deep amber eyes

* And those butterflies in your stomach

* “You can start with what happened after you guys left the party!”

* So you’re going to have to fast forward a bit

* “Well he was mad because-you know two against one- if it was anyone else it would have been a traumatic experience waiting to happen”

* She nods, thinking you’re talking about you

* You’re talking about something transitive happening to those boys

* For those boys if they tried something with you that is

* You were pretty far gone, you might have actually killed them if Edward hadn’t come to get you

* Not out of anger, just negligence

* At the very best they might have cried if you weren’t able to control your emotions

* “And then after - we were arguing- and then it was just happening”

* “You guys had s*x?”

* You sputter

* “Geez no! We were kissing, get your mind out of the gutter Jess.”

* “Well I don’t know (Y/N/N), he’s been pinning after you since freshman year a kiss just seems anticlimactic all things considered ”

* Besides you guys have this vibe around you-

* Like a sort of intimacy or something-

* You’ve both always had a sort of closeness.

* Like it was the two of you in one world, and then everyone else in another

* But now there’s a physical closeness to you both

* The kind of vibe people who are sleeping together usually give off.

* She saw it when you were together at the aquarium

* “Nah that’s impossible” you let out a long sigh

* “I’m pretty sure he wants to wait until marriage”

* Jessica sputters at that

* “M-marriage? Holy crap (Y/N)-“

* You nod, it’s such an antiquated notion.

* Especially considering you’re both technically dead

* Honestly, what could be more awkward than a couple of virgins fumbling around in the dark for a few hours on their wedding night?

* “He wants to marry you?!?”

* Oh

* Yeah that would be the normal thing to be concerned about

* “I’m not really sure” you scratch the back of your head

* “You’re my soul mate”

* He had said it so causally, like he was talking about gravity or the weather

* Like it was a universal fact

* The words make your stomach flutter

* Ugh you don’t have time to think about this

* “Well that’s what happened, and now Carlisle is always crying in the house and Esme is already planning weddings. Now come on we’re going to be late for class”

* You get out of the car before Jess can get a word in edgewise

* So this is really happening

* She sighs

* Well she’s be lying if she said she didn’t see this coming

* She knows there’s a lot of people competing for your affection

* Hell even Conner dropped his f*ck boy tendencies for you

* But Edward is the only one who looks at you, and only you

* Jessica’s guilty of it too, she’ll admit that

* You’re her first choice, don’t get her wrong, but if you don’t return her affections

* Well that’s fine, she’ll just date Mike, or Conner, or Bella or whoever

* It’s the same for the rest of them

* Conner will be bummed when he finds out-

* Mostly because he can’t believe he dropped his other side pieces

* But he’ll get over it

* Just like Mike did

* But Edward-

* There’s no one other than you for him

* She see’s it in the way he looks at you.

* If it’s not you, it’s just not any good

* So he’ll wait, maybe even his entire life, until you’re ready to love him back

* A small smile twitches on her face

* She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t happy for you

* “I wonder if anyone will ever love me like that” she mumbles to herself, right before flinching in surprise when you swing the passenger door open

* “Oh my god you scared me!”

* “I scared you?!? Jess this is my car, how am I supposed to lock it if you’re sitting inside?”

* “Oh right”

* You make it to class by the skin of your teeth, taking you seat between Edward and Alice in English

* “So what did you two talk about?” Edward whispers with a small smile while the teacher calls roll

* You roll your eyes

* “Like you don’t know”

* He has a sly smile on his face and you’re not sure why

* Alice starts obviously stifling laughter beside you

* Rude but okay

* Edward leans close to you, so close his lips are only a centimeter away from your ear

* Does he mind?

* Maybe he’s immune to sexual feelings, but being that close is doing things to you

* “I’m actually not waiting for marriage by the way”

* You can practically feel the grin on his face

* You look up to him, your golden eyes meeting his

* You were right he is smiling

* His smile takes a mischievous turn, and you feel his hand slide onto your thigh and give a teasing squeeze

* “Didn’t want you to have any misconceptions” he says with the same sly grin as he removes his hand from your leg and leans back in his chair

* Ah

* So that’s why Alice was laughing

* (Y/N). Exe is broken

Bonus:

* “Hey”

* Bella looks up to see the Jessica standing by her locker as she pulls her books out

* “Oh hey, did you get to talk to them?”

* “Um yeah, it’s about what we were thinking.”

* Bella nods, if she’s sad she’s not showing it.

* “It’s good that they’re together. He loves them a lot, I’m sure Edward will treat them right”

* Jessica nods, Edward does love you a lot.

* She watches Bella try to cram books into her bag

* She is kinda pretty now that she looks at her, in that angular face- snow white kinda way

* She’s no (Y/N)

* And she’s no Mike

* “Hey did you finish the trig homework? I was having tr-“

* But maybe-

* “Hey, Angela and I are going dress shopping in port a, do you want to come with?”

* Maybe they can be friends

* They both liked the same person, so they’ve already got something in common

* Bella looks at the blonde

* To be honest, she’s been holding everyone here at a distance

* In a few years she won’t see any of these people ever again, there’s no need to get attached

* Not after what happened in Arizona

* But still-

* “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

* Guess she never learns

Tags:  @moonlights27​ @thebluetint​ @the100thtwilight​ @awesomebooklover17​ @oneofthepotterheads​ @smileygirl08​ @imdoingathingmom​ @iconicgguk​ @yrawn​ @alyciaswhore​ @little-horror-show​ @wicked-watering-can​ @lazydreamers​ @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​​​ @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796​​ @moose-squirrel-asstiel​​ @hotmessgoodness​ @jaimewho​ @corabmarie​ @what-am-i-doing10​ @alluring-venus​ @imdoingathingmom @anotheryooniverse​ @im-tired-not-sleepy​ @emmettcullenisahimbo​ @my-super-musical-life​ @smolvampiregirl​ @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream​ @mihikaahujaaa @werewolflover3252​ @teenagezombiekryptonite @shynz​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @monkeyluver4546 @wonhomarshmallow​ @bwbatta @bubblyabs​ @thatwaspossesion​

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Vemon eating out reader plzz

(sorry it’s short)

~~~

He was between your legs.  He had ripped your clothes off you.  You were completely nude on your back. 

He growled between your legs, “All mine tonight, princess.”  You blushed as his hot breath contacted your skin.  

His tongue entered you and his name fell loudly from your lips.  His thick tongue pumped in and out of you.  The knot in your stomach was already tightening.  

He had a firm grip on your thighs.  You squirmed under him, he held you still as his tongue worked magic.  

You reached for him.  He stretched himself out, taking both your wrists in it.  He laid you back with your hands pinned against your head.  You groaned, “Venom.”  He smiled against your skin.

His tongue picked up pace.  You felt your walls convulse around his tongue as your orgasm ripped through you.  You screamed out to him.  He lapped at your opening.  He crawled next to you, holding you close to him.  

~~~

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[akamaiden]

Okay so what about you sent one of those so we can have fun together? Only for Vikings and Marvel (mcu and netflix series) characters please!

@therealcalicali @hallowed-heathen @cbouvier23 @nothingeverdies @grungyblonde @alicedopey @ivarslittlebadgirl @ivarlothbroks @ivarswickedqueen @laketaj24 @ivarsshieldmadien @holydream @moondustmemories @readsalot73 @stanclub @floatautumnleaf @flokidottir-imagines-br @thisishowdynastiesareborn @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @winchesterwife27 @missrandomista @naaladareia @moose-squirrel-asstiel @dewy-biitch @alexa4040

Prompts!

“You’re really soft.”

"You smell nice.”

“You’re cute when you’re worried”

“I think i’m in love with you, and that terrifies me.”

“I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

"I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.”

"Is it possible to love too much?”

“You’re the perfect height for me to rest my chin on your head.”

"I don’t wanna get up– you’re comfy.”

“I’m so in love with her/him, I don’t know what do do.”

"I will always be there protect you.”

"I’m cold. Come closer.”

“You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?”

"I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

"I’ve never seen such gorgeous eyes before.”

"I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You’re really hot, shame about the personality”

"All I want is you.”

“This movie is really scary, but you’re into it so I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time, but- WHAT IS THAT?”

“You came to my room at 4am, to cuddle?”

"I could never leave you, I love you too much!”

"A fairytale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face.”

"I don’t think anyone could ever be as lovely as you.”

“You look really cute in that sweater.”

"You look incredible in that.”

“Is that my shirt?”

“You’re so clingy, i love it.”

“No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

"He/She’s quite stunning, isn’t he/she?”

“Are you sugar personified or something?”

“I look forward to holding you close in bed soon.”

"Sometimes I just can’t control myself when around you.”

"Do you believe in love at first sight?”

"I think I’m in love.”

"I’d like it if you stayed.”

“You made these cupcakes for me?”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“You’re so fucking adorable.”

“You’re my best friend’s sister, we can’t do this..”

"People are jerks, but not you.”

“All these new feelings are scaring me.”

"I’ll share the blankets with you.”

“I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please.”

"I have never felt this way about anyone.”

“How do you always manage to look so captivating?”

"I want this to never end…”

“I’m a big girl, i can handle it myself.”

“I can’t believe I got the first date, let alone a year.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Don’t give me that puppy dog face.  How am I supposed to say no to that?”

“So, are you guys dating or?”

“There’s no way in hell i could fall in love with someone like you”

"I waxed the floors, grab your fluffy socks.”

“Could you hold my hand?”

“Have you seen my jacket?”

“Who changed the thermostat settings? I’m freezing to death.”

“Can we just watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch?”

“You can put your cold feet on me.”

“You make me so happy.”

“I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

“Your stray red item turned my whites pink.”

“A thunderstorm is rolling through town and you’re scared of lightening/thunder so I’ll protect you.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“You’re hiding under the blanket because you’re blushing?

“Your lips are really warm.”

“I just came home to you crying while watching a movie, please tell me what’s going on.”

“That pet name was so gushy, but it was also so cute.”

“I really love holding you, darling.”

“You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night surrounded by a shattered jelly jar.”

“My parents are coming over in 10 minutes so please put some clothes on”

“You look so comfy, and cuddle-able.”

“We’re repainting the apartment and going to the hardware store together to pick out color swatches.”

“IF YOU USE UP ALL THE HOT WATER ONE MORE TIME IM GOING TO BAN YOU TO THE COUCH FOR A MONTH.”

“I want you to fight for me!”

“Please don’t go.”

“You can call me whenever you want… Even if you don’t have a reason to.”

“It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today.”

“Quit smiling at me, I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.”

I decided to make a prompt list cause I’ve always been anxious about getting a prompt I don’t know what to do with so I chose to grab them from other lists that I was comfortable with (originals: x  x  x )

~ Clara

[akamaiden]

Kinktober Drabbles (I)

A/N: Kinktober is kinda my moment so enjoy the first drabble of a filthy series.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Gif credit: @unwantedbunnie

Words: 322.

“What do you want me do to you, darlin'?” he whispers in your ear making shivers run your body.

“Bucky, please,” it's all you manage to say.

“Please what?” he asks before sucking that sweet spot of your neck that makes you moan all filthy and needy to him.

“Ruin me,” you whisper making him grunt.

And he obeys. Hands running your body, one hot and the other cooling down where his touch makes you burn.

You don't need to ask twice before he makes his way into you, thick cock enlarging you in the most delicious way.

It's so good, he keeps a fast pace because you two are too desperate for that. Maybe is all the amount of alcohol you two had on Tony's party. You two really don't need a reason to finally make that happen after entire weeks of ridiculous mutual pining.

“I'm so close, oh!” you tremble from head to toes when he hits your g spot particularly hard.

“C'mon come for me, doll. Wanna see you falling apart on my cock,” he demands.

And before you notice you guide his metal hand to your throat.

“Please,” it's all you can say.

He watches you for some time, his pace running low before you feel his grip tighten bringing you closer than ever to your relief.

“Oh yes, yes,” you moan already feeling your orgasm so damn close that actually hurts, pussy tighten around him, squeezing him so good.

“Come,”

A simple request that makes you half moan half scream his name while the heat wave of pleasure washes your body. He would probably take some more time, but he fucking lose when you call him in that beautiful and sinful way. He explodes inside you, gripping your hip with his free hand in a way that he knows it'll give you marks, but he doesn't care. All he cares about now is you and only you.

Tagging: @therealcalicali @hallowed-heathen @cbouvier23 @nothingeverdies @grungyblonde @alicedopey  @ivarlothbroks @ivarswickedqueen @laketaj24 @ivarsshieldmadien @holydream @moondustmemories @readsalot73 @stanclub @flokidottir-imagines-br @thisishowdynastiesareborn @attorneyl @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @winchesterwife27 @missrandomista @moose-squirrel-asstiel @dewy-biitch

[collecting-stories]

Nightmares - Sigurd Ragnarsson

@flokidottir-imagines-br : So, can you please write something really fluffy for Sigurd, late-night conversation with his pregnant girlfriend?

Nightmares | Sigurd Ragnarsson x reader

Sigurd was not his brothers or his father. He was not cut out for the viking life, he had no desire to travel the seas of the world in search of riches or kingdoms or powers. If he could live the way that he truly wanted he thought that he might be done with his brothers. That he would pack his belongings and shed his name, no longer would he allow himself to be Sigurd Ragnarsson or even Sigurd, Snake in Eye. He would be just another traveller on the road, weaving lore for people to listen to and playing music that they could be eased by. He wanted to go places but not for personal glory or the fame of title.  

He could not have that life though. Perhaps he could still live as a farmer somewhere, a coward who hides from the ships and refuses to go near the fjord in fear he could be swept to far away places. But he couldn’t run from his name then. He would be the greatest disappointment that Ragnar Lothbrok had even fathered. Weaker than his brothers. His mind was plagued by thoughts of dying in battle or dying at sea or dying simply from the diease that Hvitserk said existed in those places. Terrible illnesses that the gods thrust upon their people who in turn infected the viking ships until all the men were sick and their families were sick and villages died.  

Nothing could quiet those voices. Nothing could ease his mind. He’d tried some herbal remedy that he’d seen a healer use in the village but he was still riddled with an uneasy stomach and nightmares that kept him awake for hours. He tried walking around the village at night, letting the cold, salty air of the fjord wash over him as he strolled barefoot along the banks. But being so close to the water only made him feel worse and he imagined it infested with sirens and monsters that pulled him down into the black depth, smothering him beneath the surface. He tried sitting in the field and playing his music but his hands forgot the melody and he stopped more times than he started.  

Sigurd had always been troubled by the thought of becoming a viking but the nightmares and the insomnia and the gripping fear that he tried to hide were more prominent now than they had been before. As if they had grown in size within a few short months. And they had. Because so had you. He had not yet proposed marriage as he had not yet decided whether he could provide you with a worthy life but you had fallen pregnant just five months ago. As you started to show so too did Sigurd’s insecurities and doubts about himself and his future. You had grown accustomed to waking in the morning to an empty bed, you companion already outside, shivering in the cold as he sat on the bench near the door, trying to talk himself into boarding a ship. He was no viking.  

On the first night of your sixth month you laid down and pretended to fall asleep, listening for the sound of Sigurd’s even breathing. When you were sure he had nodded off you sat up, quiet so as to not wake him earlier than he would wake himself. It went just as you knew it would, he slept only an hour peacefully and then he began to toss and turn until finally he sat upright. He was so distraught over his dream he didn’t even notice that you were awake, sitting up in bed, as he leaned over, pressing his head to his knees.  

“Sigurd,” Your hand on his back startled him and he shot up, looking over at you with eyes that were almost wild. He was still disoriented from his dream.  

“You’re alive.” He breathed, almost hysteric as he sat on his knees and gathered your face in his hands and kissed you. “And the baby is healthy.”

“So says the seer.” You replied, holding his wrists to pull his hands from your face, “Sigurd, it was only a dream.”

“It was so real. I was on the ship with my brothers and there was a terrible sickness. I thought I was okay, that the gods had spared me but then you fell ill. I cannot go with them, I cannot be gone from you for even a moment’s time. The baby will come soon and I must be here to make sure you are alright.” He spoke frantically and as he did you attempted to guide him toward you. He moved easily, still pliable from sleep. Sigurd laid against you, head rested against your breast and arms around your stomach. The sound of your heart beating eased him somewhat and you petted his hair lovingly.  

“Ubbe has said that you are not expected on the raid.” You reassured him. Raids took months, they were long and tiring and the travel was not for the faint of heart. While you knew Sigurd would’ve been fine and the ship might’ve been home in time you had still appealed to Ubbe to let your love stay with you.  

“I do not ever wish to go.” Sigurd admitted. “I have been sick over it. I cannot give you a life to be proud of under the name Ragnarsson but it is not in my heart to be a viking. If I were to go I would never be happy.”

“Then I see no reason for you to leave.”  

“I cannot be selfish.” Sigurd lifted his head to look up at you, “I cannot trade the happiness of my family for my own. You would be ridiculed, the wife of a man who’s father, the legendary Ragnar Lothbrok, a king, is nothing more than a farmer.”  

“My happiness has nothing to do with the name of your father or your title here in Kattegat. My happiness is yours Sigurd and I would gladly spend my years in the field with you if that would be what you truly want.” You replied.  

“I think of the ships leaving everyday and I’m terrified. The gods did not make me for the voyage, I am not Hvitserk or Ubbe or Bjorn. I cannot withstand the armies that they face and I do not wish to die in battle so that I may be raised in Valhalla...gods forgive me for saying so. I just wish to be here, with you and our children in our home until we are old and sick of each other.” Sigurd laid his head back down and let you brush through his hair, closing his eyes.  

“Then we shall do that. Though,” you kissed his head, “let us not get sick of each other.”

“I do not believe we shall.”

“Sigurd,” you called to him before he could fall completely back to sleep. “You mustn’t let these things haunt you the way they do. You are not so alone that you have to walk the streets by yourself to get rid of your nightmares, not when I am right beside you having worries of my own. We must meet them together.”

“I will come to you first.” He promised, eased out of his own terrors for the night and reassured by the sound of your heart beating steady beneath his cheek.  

-

I’ve never written Sigurd before and I haven’t written Vikings in a spell but here is this! 

taglist: @breathlesssouls @lif3snotouttogetyou @demonhunter1616 @flowers-in-your-hayr @alwaysadreamingoptimist @ms-allenbrown  @arses21434 @glopsifum @aeflenpath @moose-squirrel-asstiel @vikingalexthedane @another-life-addict @born-in-19-96 @naaladareia @mysticthinking @thinkingsofamadwoman @mixedwiththemoon @titty-teetee  @queenmissfit @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @absentmindeduniverse @his-paradox 

[lisinfleur]

Ragnarssons In: Wrong Contact

Author’s Notes | I decided to make multiple situations because this is really very funny to see hahaha. Consider the following message: *Erect Dick Pick* plus "Can't wait for tonight... *wink emoji*" Info |  Requested by @flokidottir-imagines-br ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT references included. +18

Björn

to his mother: "This was for my wife. I SWEAR!"

to Ubbe: "Sorry bro... Wrong text. How are Torvi and the children, btw?"

to Hvitserk: "This was a wrong message, not a 3some invitation. Don't come to my house tonight!"

to Sigurd: "Can we just forget this happened?"

to Ivar: "There is not an offensive interline here! I just misclicked the contact, ok? Please don't start a speech!"

Ubbe

to his mother: "Ern... sorry mom..."

to Björn: "Well... Just ignore it ok? It was for Torvi. I mean... Ignore this as well."

to Hvitserk: *3 minutes later* "Wanna join us?"

to Sigurd: "Not a single word."

to Ivar: "Ya know it wasn't intentional, right, little brother?"

Hvitserk

to his mother: *awaits two minutes and call her* Mom? Hey mom! Long time non see! I'm calling you to say I was hacked, do you believe? If you received anything from me since middle-day, it wasn't me!

to Björn: “Dick pick of the day! HA!” *prank style*

to Ubbe: "It wasn't my intention, but since I sent it anyway, wanna come in?"

to Sigurd: "Delete it. Right now, Sigurd!"

to Ivar: "Don't take it personally, little bro... wrong contact, I swear."

Sigurd

to his mother: "Just delete it and life moves on ok? Thank you."

to Björn: "My bad!"

to Ubbe: "Sorry. Wrong contact. But there is nothing here you didn't see before, right?"

to Hvitserk: "There will be girls involved. If I put you in, will you forgive this?"

to Ivar: "Don't start a drama! If I wanted to say anything about your dick it would be personally and wouldn't involve a pic of mine."

Ivar

to his mother: *calls her immediately* I'm so very sorry, mom...

to Björn: "No comparisons involved. I swear."

to Ubbe: "Misclick! Sorry!"

to Hvitserk: "Just forget it, ok? Erase it, and let's keep living our lives. Nothing happened."

to Sigurd: "Yeah! It works! And it's bigger than yours! Deal with it!"

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@bluearchersstuff  - @ivarswickedqueen - @directionlessbuthappy - @akamaiden - @bang-kim-bap - @cris101071 - @solveigs-temple - @volvas-temple - @alicedopey - @athroatfullofglass - @captstefanbrandt - @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla - @dreamingsofatraveler - @heartbeats-wildly - @lol-haha-joke -  @moondustmemories - @moose-squirrel-asstiel - @ms-allenbrown - @mslothbrok - @normatural - @readsalot73 - @xinyourdreamsx - @shutter-bug124 - @rekdreams247 - @sassygirl25 - @slutforasoldier - @itsspecial-itsnotforeveryone - @amandine0611 - @ateliefloresdaprimavera - @attorneyl - @awishmyheartmakes - @witchesandfairytales - @lokigoddess - @naaladareia - @vikingsandetc - @neeadinghugs - @clumsywonderland - @itssalvia - @irenlaja2022001 - @magic-at-your-fingertips - @feistybaby  - @wish-i-was-a-mermaid - @come-with-me-and-imagine - @dangerousvikings - @hvitserksgirl - @lupy22 - @mblaqgi - @nejijjeoroo - @laketaj24 - @that-goodgirl - @93generation - @scumyeol - @neeadinghugs - @thevikingsheaux - @titty-teetee - @oddsnendsfanfics - @soapjay - @two-unbeatable-beaters - @therealcalicali - @carbonated-beverage - @amandine0611 - @igetcarriedawaywithyou - @grungyblonde - @themusingofagothicsoul - @arses21434 - @honestsycrets - @princessofthalia - @funmadnessandbadassvikings - @equalstrashflavoredtrash - @rabeccablake - @darkkitty - @2thequietone4 - @blackspiritshake - @vikingsbifrost - @astormofships - @winchesterwife27 - @x-valhalla - @allvikingsfanfic - @calum-hoodwinked-me - @lyanna-the-giantsbane - @dreaming-of-never-neverland

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