#I cry and pray but my hands drew it on their own

[gogobootz1]

An American in London

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: One of Benedict's old schoolmates enlists his help with wooing his American penpal, but when Benedict (literally) runs into her travel companion, things take a turn

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: blood (nosebleed)

"Why, exactly, have you dragged me here?" Benedict bemoaned, looking around the nearly empty hotel bar. There were plenty of better places to drink in the city.

"Because tomorrow morning we are meeting my hopefully lovely pen pal here," came the arrogant voice of one of Benedict's old school friends. Charles had made no effort to continue their friendship into adulthood until earlier that day.

"We?" Benedict asked, skeptically as they sat.

"Yes, we," Charles nodded, motioning for drinks to be brought over. "You are to help me impress the girl and play chaperone."

Benedict squinted at him, "Why would I do that?"

"Do you have anything better to do?" Charles shrugged. Benedict blinked at him for a minute. The truth was, after dropping out of the academy, he did not. He had actually been rather bored as of late.

"Fine," he swallowed bitterly.

"Excellent!" Charles sprang up from his seat, "I'll be by Bridgerton house at ten tomorrow to pick you up."

"Where are you going?" Benedict asked as the man began walking off.

"I have an appointment," Charles called back, and Benedict rolled his eyes. He polished off his drink before putting some money on the table. Of course, Charles had left that to him. He made quickly for the side exit and frustratedly shoved the door open.

A pained cry drew his attention as he stepped out, and he found a young woman with her hand clapped over her nose. All previous annoyance seeped from him instantly. Guilt and shame flooded into its place as he rushed to check on you.

“Are you quite alright miss?”

“Not quite,” the muffled American accent caught him off guard.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he rushed out, eyes full of earnest regret. He grabbed the handkerchief from the pocket over his chest and reached toward your face with it. You reared back, hand still firmly covering your nose, though he swore he could see deep crimson starting to leak out.

“Will you let me have a look?”

“Oh, no,” you firmly shook her head, laughing without any humor, “I have had enough embarrassment for one night. I will not end my evening by bleeding on some random English gentleman.”

You began walking in the opposite direction, but he was quick to follow.

“Please, allow me to make amends, I feel at fault for-“

“You are at fault!” You stopped in your tracks to fix him with a glare.

He blinked back at you, “Well, yes, but I-“

“Unless you’d like to ram a door into your own nose, I’ve seen more than enough of you tonight, thank you,” you snapped, turning to leave. Before you could, you felt a drip of blood fall from your hand onto your dress. You let out a frustrated groan and turned back toward the stranger, snatching his still-outstretched handkerchief. 

Working fast, you wiped your bloody palm, then your face. All the while, the concerned gentleman looked on in worry. Once you’d wiped the excess, you held the cloth up to your nose to catch any more.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself,” He nervously straightened his jacket.

“Perhaps not,” you shook your head, “if you introduce yourself we might just meet again, and you should pray for that not to happen.”

You might’ve laughed at his expression if your nose didn’t ache like hell. “Goodnight!” You said with faux cheer, as you left him standing in confusion.

“Goodnight?” You hardly registered his weak reply.

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

Benedict woke up on the floor after being violently tugged off the small sofa in his room. He'd been so absorbed with his sketch he hadn't even made it to bed last night.

"Come on then, Bridgerton," Charles' voice taunted from above him, "up and at 'em."

Benedict rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off of the floor, catching sight of the prior night's labors as he stood. A pair of intense eyes stared back at him, and since you'd kept the rest of your face closely covered, a swath of ruby replaced everything below the bridge of your nose. He tried to casually cover the piece before Charles could butt in and ask about it.

"I thought we agreed upon ten," Benedict told the man, stifling a yawn.

"It is ten," Charles snapped, and Benedict winced.

"A moment, then," he requested.

Charles rolled his eyes, "Make it fast, Bridgerton." Benedict rushed to dress in fresh clothing and fix his hair as quickly as possible. Being late would be an early point against him in making both England and Charles seem appealing. Not that those were easy tasks to begin with.

Luckily, he managed a quick turnaround, and a carriage waited outside for them. The grey sky, however, promised rain, yet another factor working against him.

Thanks to a hefty tip to the driver, the men were no more than five minutes late.

"Remind me of her name again," Benedict asked as the two exited the carriage.

Charles glared at him, "I swear to God if you-"

"Just tell me her name," they breezed through the door to the cafe within the hotel.

"Sarah," Charles said, scanning the room, "Sarah!"

A young woman had raced over, and likely would have embraced Charles had she not been held back by the elbow. The woman who prevented the social faux pas was instantly familiar to Benedict when he met the same pair of fierce eyes he'd stayed up too late sketching. Then took the time to examine the rest of your pretty face, though it was marred by a bruised nose. He had to hold back a wince at his own accidental handiwork.

When Charles elbowed him in the ribs, he tuned back into the conversation. Charles not-so-subtly nodded towards Sarah.

"Very fine to meet you, Sarah," he said, hoping he'd assessed the situation correctly. Pleased laughter from the lady told him he had.

"And you," she nodded, "I'd like you both to meet my dearest friend." Sarah introduced you, nudging you forward a bit.

You smiled reluctantly, "Nice to meet you, gentlemen." When you locked eyes again, your smile grew wider yet more mocking. Charles dipped his hat, but Benedict bowed to kiss your hand. Doing everything possible to enter your good graces couldn't hurt.

"Might I ask how you injured your nose?" Charles ventured. Benedict tensed and he saw your jaw clench.

Sarah, however, laughed good-naturedly, "Oh, you'll laugh at this Charles," she turned to you, "go on."

"Silly me, I walked right into a door," you said, tone bordering on teasing. To anyone else, it might’ve come off as humorously self-deprecating. Anyone else might’ve thought you clumsy or perhaps a little ditsy, but Benedict knew better. Benedict could see the threat behind your eyes.

"Well, that's not funny," Charles admonished Sarah, "I'm sorry you're hurt." Sarah seemed surprised but mildly impressed. You, too, seemed content with his answer. One point for Charles.

"Are you in much pain?" Benedict asked, hoping the answer would be no.

You blinked at him, mischief sparkling in your eyes. "Only when I breath," you nodded, deadly serious, but he saw the way your mouth fought a grin.

"That's awful," Charles said, sympathetically. "You couldn't find some medicine or some powder to cover the bruise?" He asked that to Sarah, and Benedict saw your expression shift. One point against Charles.

"I wear my wounds with pride," you challenged. Benedict was once again reminded that your wound was his fault while Charles seemed to struggle for a reply.

"Shall we sit?" Your well-mannered question seemed to Benedict to be the first victory of inevitably multiple challenges to Charles. He wondered if that was your purpose in accompanying Sarah from the States- to determine if Charles was up to snuff.

The four of you were nearly finished enjoying tea and scones when you pulled out the handkerchief you'd taken last night. It was pink, presumably from you trying to wash out the blood. Benedict choked on his sip of tea as you wiped the crumbs from your lips with it.

"When did you buy that?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, I'm only borrowing it until I get the favor I'm owed," Benedict gulped at that. You weren't kidding last night when you said he should hope to never run into you again. Though he did have trouble agreeing at the moment, and somehow, even still.

Sarah easily dismissed your comment and reengaged Charles in conversation. Benedict's attention remained on you, however, and you cheekily tilted your head at him.

Your eyes remained locked with his before you started speaking, "Perhaps you two would like to take a stroll of the hotel gardens before we leave for whatever plans you've made for the day."

Charles nodded at this, "An excellent idea." He walked around the table to offer Sarah a hand. When the two were out of hearing range, Benedict turned back to you.

"Will this favor earn me your forgiveness?" He asked, "Because I really do feel terribly about-"

"Stop," you said, "It's fine. Sarah had no problem believing I still have sea legs and tripped into a door."

Benedict's shoulders drooped as he breathed in relief. "But are you in pain? I couldn't tell if you were serious earlier."

Your expression became softer, "Only a little." He was relieved by that answer. "But I wasn't kidding about the favor," you reminded, sternly.

He froze, "And what favor do you require?"

"I'd like a full report of Charles' background, personality, what he does in his free time," you listed off, "anything of the like."

The questioning glance he gave you encouraged you to elaborate.

"Look," you said with a huff. "Sarah's mom is over the moon about this. Marrying her daughter off to an English lord will boost her social status by leaps and bounds. Her father, however, is not so convinced. Mr. Du Pont has always been kind to me, so when he asked me to assess this potential marriage, I gave him my word."

Benedict nodded, "And you'd like me to inform you on Charles, so you can inform Mr. Du Pont on Charles."

"Exactly," you said simply.

"That's rather funny, you know, Charles asked me to help woo Sarah and convince her he's worth a permanent trip across the Atlantic," he said, and you raised a brow.

"Are you trying to repent for hitting Charles in the face with a door?"

Benedict blinked, "What would you do if I said yes?"

"Help me," you snarled.

He raised his hands defensively, "All right! How am I meant to do that?"

"Have pertinent information sent to my hotel suite," you shrugged.

"Fine," Benedict assented after a minute.

"What's fine?" Sarah asked, having just returned with Charles. Her tinkling voice took him by surprise, and he laughed nervously.

"These biscuits," he said, standing, "they're very fine, I may even take some to go." Benedict stuffed two of the shortbread biscuits into his pocket and regretted it soon after. He regretted it even more after catching Charles' nasty glare at him.

Taking a sharp breath, he turned to offer you his arm, "Shall we?"

You politely took his arm, repressing your laughter. As Sarah and Charles walked on ahead, you leaned in, "Save one for me." Benedict lightly snorted before catching himself, but you seemed pleased at his laughter.

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

As weeks began to pass, notes from Benedict began to pile up. They were originally only about Charles, but as you started sending replies, the notes grew more conversational.

Sarah certainly only grew more besotted with time, and you were beginning to worry she'd rubbed off on you. The more time you spent with Benedict by way of monitoring Sarah and Charles, the more you found him positively charming.

His good looks were apparent from the beginning and made the door incident all the worse for you, but you'd recently grown fond of his personality.

Last week's art gallery found you admiring him while he spoke passionately of the use of light in one of the paintings you'd come across. You'd only snapped out of it was he asked your thoughts on the piece. The most you could muster up was that you absolutely agreed.

As the two of you chaperoned countless walks and lunches, you conversed about any and everything. Benedict told you of his artwork and promised to eventually show you some of it after you asked a few times. You told him of your own passions, and how they were often trampled by society's expectations. He confessed that since both his older and one of his younger brothers had been recently married, his mother had been nagging him about finding someone.

"I think it's important to be comfortable alone," you'd told him on one particularly breezy walk. "You shouldn't make do with someone else's life when you can't be content with your own."

"Come again?"

"I only mean it's unfair to put certain expectations on a spouse," you shrugged, "No one is who anyone else wants them to be, and trying to force people to be what they are not leads to unhappy marriages."

"In that case, I'm glad no one expects a thing from me," Benedict said.

You laughed a little, "I don't think people expect much of me either. At least we won't let anyone down."

"Setting the bar low," he nodded, smiling, "I like it." Your laughter drew a smile to his face.

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

A few months had gone by, and Benedict was overjoyed when Charles proposed to Sarah. He was happy for the two of them, sure, but mostly, he was glad your stay had been extended. You'd become such a fixture in his life that he struggled to imagine a time after your visit.

Your return tickets were canceled. Instead, Sarah's parents had booked their spots on a ship sailing over to England. They wanted to plan their daughter's wedding and see her well-adjusted in her new homeland.

"What will your first report to Mr. Du Pont entail, then?" Benedict asked you. The two of you had been tasked with greeting Sarah's parents upon their arrival, and you sat opposite each other in a carriage.

"What makes you think this will be my first report?" You raised a brow at him.

"You've been exchanging letters across the Atlantic about Charles? He's nowhere near interesting enough for that," Benedict told you, inspiring a grin.

"They're mostly about mine and Sarah's time here. She's not great at staying in touch- yet another reason they sent me along," you said. "But you're right, I have yet to form a full opinion on Charles. I go back and forth, but I trust your judgment."

Benedict's eyes widened at the admission as you pulled up to your destination. He exited the carriage first to helpfully offer you his hand. To his displeasure, you pulled away all too soon when you saw the Du Ponts.

Mrs. Du Pont cheerfully called your name as you rushed excitedly towards them. Benedict smiled as he watched you greet the older couple. They were clearly quite fond of you.

It took a minute before they registered his presence.

"Where is Sarah? And who is this gentleman?" Mrs. Du Pont asked you, trying to lower her voice for the latter question.

You perked up, "This is Mr. Benedict Bridgerton." You grabbed his forearm and pulled him closer to the conversation. "He's a friend of Charles. They've both been showing us the best of England!"

"So this is Benedict!" Mr. Du Pont said happily, "I've read a lot about you."

Benedict shot you a questioning look as he shook the older man's hand, "You have?"

"Oh yes," the man nodded despite you shaking your head at him. When Benedict turned to you again, you stopped and let an angelic smile grace your face. His smirk told you you'd been caught. Oh well, if he asked, you'd simply tell the truth. He was by far the most interesting part of Great Britain.

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

Wedding preparations had been running smoothly, and soon enough Benedict was out with a group of high society men to celebrate the impending nuptials.

The men were a few drinks deep when Charles made a toast, "Soon, lads, I will no longer be a free man, so you best believe I will enjoy it while it lasts."

Benedict was not sure he appreciated that sentiment, but let it pass as his other companions gave cries of, "Here, here!"

Drinking eventually turned to debauchery, and Benedict soon felt crowded at the table slowly attracting more women of the night. He excused himself to find another drink. Upon his return, however, he found Charles happily skipping off with one of them.

"Charles?!"

The man's attention turned to him, "Don't wait up, Bridgerton!" Charles laughed, and Benedict felt his face drop.

"Don't tell me..."

"Oh lighten up mate," Charles shrugged, "it's not like it counts."

Benedict blinked as his old school friend sauntered off with the woman. Every time he drank with men of the ton, it became more apparent that Violet Bridgerton's parenting methods were not widespread.

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

When he woke up in the hotel suite the next morning, Benedict spent a few blissful moments without the memory of the prior night. When he did remember, he tried to brush it off as a drunken illusion. Only, logic won out in the end. He hadn't drunk that much, and he had very clearly seen the scene with his own eyes.

Why did Charles have to go and make a mess of things? Everything had been going swimmingly. Now, just because the man couldn't keep it in his pants, countless hours of wedding planning would go down the drain. Sarah would be inconsolable, her parents would be furious, and they'd all be going back home. You'd be going back home. Shit.

He agonized over the situation, pacing the floor for an hour before Charles waltzed in.

"Are you only now getting back?" Benedict asked him, taking in the disheveled clothing Charles had been wearing the night prior.

"What can I say? I certainly enjoyed myself," Charles said smugly. He walked off, presumably to freshen up, but Benedict called after him.

"Charles?" The man turned, "You wouldn't... engage in that sort of behavior as a married man?"

Charles chuckled a bit, "Bridgerton, prostitutes don't count," that was concerning, "That sort of revelry was a one-time thing." That was... a bit better? Benedict let out a miserable groan.

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

Your bright eyes at the wedding rehearsal made him briefly forget his troubles. Once you were both in the proper position, Benedict didn't bother to pay attention. In fact, he pretty much just stared at you from across the altar. You looked good up there. He liked seeing you at the altar. He liked being across from you at the altar.

He was in trouble.

You whispered to him as he escorted you back down the aisle when the faux-service was over. Being best-man did afford him some benefits. "Guess what?"

"What?" He smiled down at you.

"The Du Ponts are thinking of staying indefinitely," you said, secretively, "they bought a house here. They've invited me to stay with them."

"Oh," he said, sense suddenly knocked back into him.

"It's looking like I might be in your hair a while longer."

Benedict quite nearly told you to stay in his hair as long as you cared to but felt it might be too forward. He also felt you'd make a lice joke at his expense. Your sharp sense of humor was one of the many things he found charming about you and one of the many reasons he did not want to let you go.

But if Charles and Sarah were getting married, you were staying. The Du Ponts were staying.

Just how bad was some debauchery at a stag party, really? In the grand scheme of things?

"Oh, how was the gentlemen's party?" You asked, excitedly, "I hope none of you behaved too poorly."

A nervous laugh bubbled from his mouth, "No. No, just the usual level of poor behavior." Fuck.

"Glad to hear it," you nodded. "Was Charles drunk out of his mind?" You laughed a bit.

"Quite possibly," Benedict said, smiling uncomfortably. The man was definitely out of his mind. Whether it could be attributed to the drink Benedict wasn't sure.

"Well, thanks for keeping an eye on him," you said, giving his arm a squeeze.

He was in big trouble.

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

On the morning of the wedding, Benedict was jittery. In a hallway of the church, he kept nervously adjusting his collar. A steady pair of hands pulled his away, and he looked up to find you fixing his collar.

"Stop touching it," you told him as you worked, "it looks good."

"Right," he breathed stiffly.

"And try not to look like you're attending a funeral," you reminded him, smirking. "Oh! I have something for you," you pulled the handkerchief he'd given you when you first met out of a small bag. Pressing it into his hand, you smiled up at him, "favor complete. Consider us even."

He could only nod at you as you began to retreat.

"I'm off to help Sarah. See you soon!"

Benedict gazed after you, guilt creeping in.

"I'm relieved she's kept such a close eye on Sarah," Mr. Du Pont suddenly appeared beside him, "but I should've expected it. The two have been like sisters ever since..."

"Since?' Benedict asked him curiously while straightening his bow tie.

"Well, we took her in some years back when her family passed," the older man explained.

As much as Benedict thought he'd gotten to know you, it seemed you'd yet to feel comfortable enough to tell him that, "I hadn't known."

"No," Du Pont shook his head, "she doesn't like to talk about it. Hates having to bear people's pity."

That, Benedict could understand. He had found that to be one of the worst parts of the aftermath of his father's death.

"But it's been a pleasure to have her in our family. I'm only happy it's expanding! Hopefully, she'll have nieces and nephews soon," Sarah's father looked around before leaning in a bit, "I'm hoping for lots of grandchildren. I'll be perfectly happy when both my girls have good, loyal husbands at their side. It seems we're almost there!" With a pat on Benedict's shoulder, Mr. Du Pont walked off, "I'll see you in there."

Benedict nodded absently. Oh. He had mucked things up. He had really, really mucked things up.

Benedict paled a little. In his bid to keep you by his side as long as possible he'd neglected all other considerations. Including the life and happiness of your sister in all but blood. This wedding was very real and very imminent. And despite the time he dreamt it was the two of you getting married, his feelings were not nearly the most important of those involved.

Sarah was about to marry a man who had cheated on her only two nights prior.

But Charles had said it was a one-time thing. A last hooray before settling down. He'd said that prostitutes do not count anyway and- oh.

Benedict sharply inhaled when he realized his own foolishness. How had he not seen this? The bars they'd visited in the past months were all down the street from the one they'd entered two nights ago- the one next to the brothel. Each time he would excuse himself to retire to his home, Charles had stayed.

A fool, indeed. He'd been so enamored and distracted with you that his spy work on your behalf was entirely lackluster. Worse yet, when he did find pertinent information out, he had lied.

He had to make it right.

Benedict raised his fist to knock on the door of the room Sarah had taken over. Before he could, it swung open. You smiled at him, a little confused.

"You know you're only supposed to escort me down the aisle," you joked, "You don't have to start this far back."

He shook his head grimly, and your face fell. "I need to talk to you," he looked up to find Sarah behind you, "both of you."

You stepped aside and let Benedict in, nervous at his shift in attitude.

"You cannot marry him," Benedict had summoned all of his nerve to say the words and looked Sarah square in the eye when he did so. She deserved that much. She deserved the truth.

"What?" Sarah asked skeptically. She was already in her wedding gown. She had no idea what was happening.

"Benedict, what are you talking about?" Your question was quieter, but you were deadly serious. As soon as he said it you knew something was wrong, and he was right in bringing it to Sarah.

He swallowed when he looked into your eyes, "I lied to you." You felt like he'd just slammed a door in your face again. "Charles did behave poorly the other night. In fact, I think he's been behaving poorly for months and I've been too blind to see it."

"What? He was drinking?" Sarah asked, "I knew that would happen."

"No," Benedict shook his head, "He was with- with other women."

And with that, Sarah was out the door. You, however, could not bring yourself to follow. You were frozen to the floor, looking at the man you'd trusted with glassy eyes.

"You lied to me," you whispered.

"I'm sorry."

You shook your head, laughing a little. The sound was sad, "I guess I broke my own rule." His eyes pleaded with you, but it was far from enough, "I expected too much from you. You couldn't help but let me down." His heart sank.

Finally, you turned to race after Sarah. Benedict was hot on your trail, "Please-"

"Oh, this is not over," you called over your shoulder, "but we have more pressing matters to deal with."

You stopped dead in your tracks after rounding a corner. It was so abrupt that Benedict could not slow his own pace enough not to bump into you. You both stumbled a bit but recovered in time to see Sarah slap Charles in the face. She then marched out of the church with her head held high.

Mrs. Du Pont followed her straight away. And Charles rushed after them both. Mr. Du Pont stopped only to briefly speak to you, "Would you both be so kind as to handle-"

"Consider it done," Benedict said. You sent him a sidelong glance before begrudgingly nodding at the man who had taken you in. Mr. Du Pont left to chase after his wife and daughter, leaving you and Benedict to dismiss guests and try to cancel vendors.

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

A long and tiresome day of working to undo weeks of wedding planning and avoiding the sad blue eyes that followed your every move ended in your hotel's garden. More specifically, eating the wedding cake that could not be returned in the hotel garden. You had very generously given most of it to the hotel staff. But you saved the top tier for yourself.

Draped across a bench, you stabbed into it with a fork. As you did, the charming figurine of Sarah and Charles fell from its place. You did not hesitate to grab the miniature and toss it into some shrubs.

"Rather harsh, don't you think?" A familiar voice drew your attention. You huffed when you saw who it was.

Benedict Bridgerton slowly made his way over to your bench. He gestured towards your legs, silently asking you to make room for him on the bench. When you didn't move, he simply sat himself parallel to you on the gravel floor.

"I am sorry," he said after some silence, looking straight ahead.

"I know," you nodded, not yet looking at him, "I suppose I am too."

"Whatever for?" Benedict's surprise broke the quietness of the moment, and he gazed at you questioningly.

You shrugged, still not looking at him, "I should have known better than to think you'd prioritize me over him. Charles is your friend."

"Maybe," he spat defensively, "but you're-" He cut himself off.

"What am I? To you?" You asked, now looking intently into his eyes, trying to discern his thoughts.

Benedict inhaled a large breath before telling you the God's honest truth, "When I realized what Charles was doing, I also realized that you would leave England with Sarah almost as soon as you found out. And I wanted you to stay." He paused, " I want you to stay."

Your lips parted as if to say something in return, but he barreled on, "I behaved selfishly, and I am a beast for it, but you were always my priority. Do not dream of thinking otherwise."

You swung your legs off of the bench and leaned forward towards him. Stabbing a bite of cake with your fork, you stuck it out to him in a gesture of peace. He cautiously ate the cake from your fork, waiting for you to say something. You took another bite before you did.

"A ship sets sail tomorrow," you said lightly, "back across the Atlantic." And with it, his hopes would sink. "I secured three tickets on it this morning."

Benedict blinked. That didn't add up right. "Is Mr. Du Pont stay-"

You quickly shook your head, and things started to click in place for him.

"Mrs. Du Pont?"

Your smirk started to grow.

"Sarah?"

"Now you're being deliberately obtuse," you mocked.

He grinned up at you, "Then...?"

"The Du Ponts need someone to mind their new manor in the English countryside. Who better than their favorite non-daughter?" You shrugged happily.

"Will you not get lonely in such a large estate out in the country?" Benedict asked teasingly.

You smiled playfully at him, "Then I should hope someone will be kind enough to call on me." Benedict looked rather self-satisfied at that. "I should only hope they clean up before they do."

His confusion was answered when you took a handful of cake and smeared it down the left side of his face. He stuck his tongue in his cheek to try not to laugh. It was well-played and deserved.

"Now we're even," you whispered close to his face before standing and walking away.

"Jokes on you," he shouted after you, "it tastes better like this!" Your laughter filled the night air, and he was happy to have made such sweet amends.

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

I love Benedict sooo much!!! I wrote this super quick after watching the new season, so sorry if anything didn't make sense

Thanks for reading <3

(also sorry for any historical inaccuracies or whatever but this is Bridgerton we're talking about )

[angelpregdreams]

a fruitful union (1)

content: fpreg, half-elf/half-orc offspring, hard labor, hard birth, praise

wc: 4145

When Eirian Estainfae had been told of her fate as the bride to feared Orc chieftain, Rhesh Kharr, she sat in shock for several days. At no point in her life had she considered her future husband would be anyone other than an Elf - let alone an Orc. 

She had never imagined it would be Rhesh Kharr, even in her wildest dreams. 

The night before her wedding to the Orc chieftain, Eirian’s mother came to her chambers, sending the servants away as soon as she entered. Myfiria was nearing her third millennium but still radiated grace and beauty. It was something Eirian always admired about her mother, something she always prayed she acquired from her.

With how she had been feeling lately, she doubted her own grace very much.

“My darling,” Myfiria cooed at her daughter, smoothing her hair away from her face. Eirian couldn’t help but feel tears burn her eyes once she looked up at her mother. “Oh, cry if you must, my dear. But cry here, in my arms, and not again from this night onward.” Her hand tucked a stray hair behind her daughter’s pointed ear, then slowly drew her fingers up under Eirian’s chin - keeping her eyes upwards, “do you hear me? Do not cry in front of them.”

Eirian sobbed, remaining in Myfiria’s arms until the sun rose. By then neither of them had any more tears to shed, simply comfort in silence. 

After her mother left, Eirian sat in her bed to wait for her maids to come in to dress her, bare of all clothing, and her long black hair hanging down her back, loose and slightly tangled. She began to lose track of time after that, her chest aching and her mind moving too slow for her body. One moment she was in her childhood bed chambers, and the next she stood in an opulent war tent, listening as her…husband explained…something she hadn’t caught the start of.

“...-thers, they will not bother you either, so you are free to go about the camp as you wish.” Rhesh finished saying, using the common language. His back was turned towards her, and Eirian finally noticed that he had removed his tunic, the broad expanse of his back exposed her eyes. 

After a beat, she cleared her throat slightly and stepped towards him, replying in the common tongue as a courtesy in return. “I appreciate that-” Eirian stumbled over her next word, at a loss of what to call him, before the silence grew a second too long, “husband.”

A muscle in his shoulder twitched and she rose her eyes from it before the motion captivated her again, as he turned to stare at her. Rhesh lingered in silence after that, his hard stare pinning her in place, but she didn’t look away. After a moment, Eirian noticed his brow quirk slightly, then his face returned to a blank mask. 

“...You look troubled, wife.” Rhesh replied, his eyes roving over her form, not even attempting to hide his lingering gaze. He then turned towards her fully and Eirian felt her cheeks burn. 

His cock pressed against the seam of his trousers and took no effort to hide it. Unabashed, he took two steps closer to her, and lifted up a hand to her cheek. His thumb brushed over her skin and Eirian stilled completely - except for her heart beating rapidly against her breast. His hardened, dark grey eyes searched over her face, looking for…something she couldn’t figure out. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he finally said, dropping his hand and walking away from her, barely brushing against her as he did so. Rhesh left the tent without another word. 

For the following week, he did as he promised. He didn’t hurt her. He spoke to her every day, common things. About how the food was, how comfortable her cot was, if anyone was bothering her. It was charming, and the start of a very tentative romance. 

He gave her time, and she felt like she could never repay him for it. His kindness showed through, but only for her. Every interaction she saw Rhesh have with the others in his warband, he was rough and near-cruel and it never stopped making her stomach turn. But then he would sit across from her for dinner and ask her about what she studied. 

As the days passed, Eirian began to speak more and more, opening up to her husband. Both emotionally and physically. 

Rhesh expressed his worries about their need to please both of their people and the reality of now being split between two nations. She listened, inputting her opinion, the stress of the last few elven councils she had attended. 

When Eirian began to speak about her sadness, Rhesh placed a large hand on her thigh, squeezing gently but not pushing beyond that. That was the moment Eirian realized that she began to fall for the massive Orc. 

From there, their touches were casual occurrences. She would reach for his arm while walking near him through camp. He would slip a hand around her waist while guiding her through the entrance of their tent. It was innocent, it was gentle. 

Surprising both of them, Eirian made the first move. She was in the bath, a tub set up in the middle of their tent while he was out on a patrol. Except Rhesh returned sooner than she expected, leading to him walking in on her, naked, wet, and flushed pink in the hot water. Her eyes caught his, and she swallowed her nerves, beckoning him to join her in the bath. 

Rhesh raised a brow, silently asking if she was sure - to which, Eirian gave him a slight smile and nodded. 

His armor was removed, something dropped from his body with every step towards the bathtub, but his eyes never left her form. When he stood at the side of the tub, he was fully nude and Eirian couldn’t pull her eyes away from his massive erection. There was no hiding it, and it made her belly twist in excitement at his unabashed nature regarding his attraction to her. Knowing he was turned on by her, and her alone, it made her crave him just the same. 

The bath was tight with the two of them in it, but when Rhesh pulled Eirian onto his lap, straddling his hips, did they fit in it more comfortably. Eirian was a blushing mess, but she couldn’t help herself, and grinded her hips down against his throbbing member. His growl was encouraging and, if that wasn’t enough, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down, his lips finding hers passionately. 

Eirian wasn’t a virgin when she met Rhesh but the amount of time it took to adjust to him was far longer than either of them expected. By the time she was comfortable, Rhesh swiftly set a quick pace, bouncing her up and down on his thick cock as she dug her nails into his muscled shoulders. Neither of them were quiet, his grunts and her whines were heard through the camp, but no one would comment on it later. 

When Rhesh pounded upwards, pulling her downwards at the same time, he rocked his hips against hers - then Eirian felt the warmth of his cum spill into her belly. She couldn’t help but whine, having sensed her own orgasm quickly approaching but when he stilled to cum in her, Eirian wiggled her hips needily. 

He grumbled into a chuckle, releasing her hip and reaching down to her clit, flicking over her sex swollen nub only a few times before she finally orgasmed. Her cunt clenched around his softening member and he groaned in approval, rocking his hips up to urge her orgasm to linger. 

From then on, their relationship shifted. 

They were friends, and now lovers - the two of them falling into a working marriage as a bridge between their people. 

However, the biggest bridge came when Eirian’s belly began to swell outward. Rhesh commented on it first, holding his hands over her lower abdomen and rubbing the slight pouch developing over her middle. As he did so, Eirian had the sudden realization, she had not bled in a while. No one ever confirmed the pregnancy, in fact, the two of them decided to keep their first child between them for as long as possible. A small act of rebellion against those that arranged their marriage without them. 

The problem came when Eirian was reminded she was quickly swelling with a half-orc child, and hiding her growing belly was harder as months dragged on. Someone finally caught a glance of Eirian and Rhesh together by a river, the two of them lost in each other, and not realizing a servant now had spread the word of her pregnancy throughout camp. From his war camp, it was quickly spread back to their home countries, and from there - a mess of missives and letters making demands of their unborn child. 

Pregnant and worried for her baby, Eirian cried one evening, the first time since the night before her wedding. Her hands were splayed over the expanse of her large middle, their child nearing full term now, at least with a normal Orc pregnancy. Elven pregnancies lasted longer, but considering the weight around Eirian’s hips, she realized this would not be like a normal Elven pregnancy. 

Silently, Rhesh came to her side and brushed the tears from her eyes, gently lifting her into his lap. He cradled her and held a hand over her belly, his thumb rubbing over her popped out belly button over her dress. There were no words spoken between the two, just her quiet tears and his silent support. 

The conversation about their first born needed to be addressed but for the night, the couple simply found solace in each other. From then on, it quickly became the two of them versus their own people to try and protect their future children. 

Eirian’s belly continued to grow, albeit slower than a normal Orc pregnancy, but just as big. Rhesh became concerned as the days drew on, his eyes and hands never straying from her swollen form in one way or another. His worry became palpable, the entire camp felt the pressure under his harsh orders. Everything had to be right, and Eirian had to be protected. 

Neither of them said it outloud, but they both knew that the Orc elders and the Elven council would be above subterfuge to identify the babe. Eirian knew that her uncle would pull no punches with this alliance, including swiping her first born if it meant he could manipulate the child of their union. 

Rhesh kept his camp in one spot for several weeks, not wanting to be on the road when Eirian began to labor. He wanted his camp set up so their tent was deep in the middle, making sure his men and personal guard were between them and those that posed a threat to his wife and unborn child. It made his men nervous but he was quickly becoming steadfast in his care, ignoring their comments of disapproval. 

After a long day, Rhesh finally came back to their tent. He had been out on a patrol, and after being waylaid by a group of river bandits, finally able to come back to Eirian’s side. She sat draped over their plush chair, specifically bought for her by her husband quickly after her pregnancy showed itself. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, her head tossed back over the chair, her dark hair messily thrown over one of the arms. Eirian rubbed her distended abdomen with both hands, a focused look upon her features. 

Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a lingering look, one that told him everything he needed to know. 

“Our babe is ready?” Rhesh asked her, coming to her side immediately. He knelt beside the chair and took her small hand into his larger one. “Are you well, Eiri?”

Eirian released a long breath, continuously rubbing her stomach with her left hand. Rhesh squeezed her right, bringing it to his lips to gently press a kiss in her palm. She gave him a reassuring smile, “labor is taking a toll on me, I fear.” Her body tensed and she squeezed his hand tightly, attempting to control her breathing as she continued to speak through the pain, “it’s been…all day, I hadn’t expected…you…to be gone so long.”

The Orc held her hand, shaking his head, “I hadn’t either, forgive me. Do I-” he paused for a moment, letting her ride out the pain before continuing, “shall I get someone?” 

“No, no, please no.” Eirian shook her head, teary eyes boring up at him. “Do not leave me again. I just want us.”

Rhesh nodded, brushing away hair that stuck to her sweaty forehead. She pressed her head into his hand, giving him a tired smile. 

“The little one sits low, I think it’s almost time.” Eirian said, grunting and shifting in her seat. Her thighs were sitting wide apart, her massive belly jutted upward, the pressure on her hips intense and unable to be ignored. She groaned and tossed her head back, belly tensing as a contraction took over her again. 

“Fuck!!” She cried, the pain lingering for longer than before. Wiggling her hips slightly, she gestured for him to help lift her dress up. Rhesh complied quickly, shoving the fabric up her legs and pushed it over her hips and massive belly. Her taut skin was splattered with stretch marks, the soft pink flesh between her legs was darker, and swollen. Eirian spread her legs apart farther, gasping in slight relief as she was able to shift into an open position, the head of their babe sitting deep in her body. Rhesh grabbed on her legs and placed her foot on his shoulder, allowing her to push against it as she needed. 

Eirian gave him a grateful look, not pausing her focus as she felt another pain take over her lithe frame. On his shoulder, her foot trembled, her strength pressing against his and it was no match, even as she labored. 

“Breathe, Eiri,” Rhesh murmured, reaching up and caressing her thigh, “listen to your body.”

She made a noise of acknowledgement, a soft huff as she tugged the dress she wore up and over the rest of her body. Fully nude now, Eirian tossed her head forward and looked at her husband, whispering her discomfort, “...there’s so much…pressure…”

Rhesh nodded, sensing the strain on her body as she heaved heavy breaths, thighs now fully spread open to reveal her slit to him. Her foot on his shoulder dug into him, Eirian grunting as the pressure shifted even lower into her core, the weight of it causing her to rock her hips forward slightly and groan out, “fuck..fucking…pressure!” 

“Keep breathing,” he reminded her. In response, she gasped out a deep breath, eyes screwed shut in pain. “Good, good, again.”

Eirian continued to follow his instruction, even as a few minutes passed and several pains came and went. Her body began to arch with each pain, the tightness of her muscles around her middle making the movement nearly impossible to avoid. The foot not on Rhesh’s shoulder now draped over the arm of the chair, fully apart enough for her body to finally give her the urge to push with her next pain. The pressure between her thighs was too much to ignore and Eirian finally gave a grunt and pushed, her body wound tight and tense as her body began to strain. 

“Good push, Eiri,” Rhesh cooed up at her, reaching up to rub her other thigh, his fingers trailing over to her swollen womanhood, feeling every tremble in her muscles along the trail. “Good girl, good push.”

In the chair, Eirian groaned and pushed with her body, the pains now never letting up and the child sitting so deep in her core that she felt if she moved forward it would push the child back into her womb. “Nughhhh…” She moaned, pushing down hard. “Ah!”

For several long minutes, Eirian continued to push, making little progress, but still progressing. Rhesh watched her pussy turn a darker red and began to bulge outward. But as the next half an hour passed, that was the most progress she was able to make. His fingers rubbed the bulging folds softly, urging her to push as the next pain came and went and again very little progress was made. 

“It’s…it’s too big…fuck…” Eirian breathed, releasing her push with a whine. 

She brought up a very valid concern Rhesh had remained silent about for most of her pregnancy. The genuine fear of her body not able to deliver his child, their different sizes painfully clear to notice. If she wasn’t able to do this, if his child was too big and this hurt her…killed her?

Before he could consider his word to express his worry, Eirian began to push again, her body naturally trying to urge the massive child from her womanhood. 

She groaned and it quickly turned into a shout, crying out as she strained and pushed. Her pussy bulged out even more, and Rhesh cupped her lips, the head poking out just a sliver before sliding back in when she relaxed her body.

“Yes!” Rhesh encouraged, “I saw it, I saw our child, Eiri.”

After her mind was able to register his words, Eirian was able to release a breathy laugh, and immediately moaned as another pain began to build. In his hand, her folds pushed against his palm, the skin parting as the head was brought to just visible. This time remaining closer to her opening, the sliver of the head just in sight now and staying there.

The babe came down into a wide, wide crown, very slowly. Eirian whimpered and cried out with every push and urging down her body strained to do, fluid dripping out of her swollen folds with each time. The foot on his shoulder, lifted off, her hand coming up to grip the back of her thigh and lift it up and apart from the other. As her cries and grunts elevated in volume, Rhesh rubbed her skin as gently as he could to ease the pain but it didn’t matter, her pussy was burning. 

Eirian’s pushes lasted longer, and as the next pain began, she began to push down just barely and the head finally lurched free from her tight womanhood in a messy gush of her fluid. In surprise she cried out and reached a hand down over Rhesh’s, the both of them holding their baby’s head. Tears fell over her cheeks as she felt around the head and felt for the cord, remembering that small part of childbirth in the back of her head from her mother. No cord was present and she felt her body relax slightly, some of the worry and paranoia leaving her as she went through the action. 

The rest should be easier. At least, Eirian prayed the rest of it would be easier. 

With how far the babe had spread her entrance open, she knew the shoulders would be an issue if she couldn’t get them out with the help of her body. Waiting for the next pain, she felt the little one in her jolt, the sensation making her hips buck as she jutted them into both Rhesh and her hand. The babe nestled at her entrance even more at the action.

Between her legs, Rhesh smiled up at her with awe, the sight of his small, perfect, Elven wife in the middle of birth was just something he would cherish forever. She grunted and groaned and sweated and cried, but to him, right now - she was perfect. 

Eirian looked at him with watery eyes and gave him the smallest smile she could, the pain making it the only thing she could focus on in the moment, but she still cherished him and his care. 

Their baby, however, seemed more than a little eager, now that the head had been introduced to the world. 

“Ah - oh, fuck!” Eirian cried, grunting and pushing down as she felt the baby shift in her body again, the shoulders rubbing against her entrance. Her noises got louder as she strained and bore down with all of her might. Her husband offered soft cheers of encouragement but she was far too lost in her own world. 

As the more pushes she did, Eirian’s strength began to fade quickly. Her last push was almost half-hearted, the grunts turning into whines again, the pain and the pressure making everything that wasn’t the baby - hard to focus on. 

Rhesh tried to ground her, and her body continued its natural urges to push, but Eirian sobbed and shook her head. “I c- I can’t…” She whimpered, eyes wide and directed at her husband, the look of fear crossing her features made him wish he could take this from her. “Rhesh,” she begged, “please…don’t make me…”

“You must.” Rhesh returned firmly, the hand next to hers near the babe’s head brushed their fingers together,  just slightly in comfort. “You know you must, Eirian. The babe is almost here, feel…” 

He guided her hand to fully cup the head of their child, it barely fit in the palm of her hand, the head huge and impossibly wide. Her breath caught in her throat, realizing that they were so close to meeting their child and that she had already pushed out something so massive. Their eyes met and she continued to cry, but nodded barely, once. 

Grinning, he nodded back at her, pride bursting from his chest as she readied herself to push again. Eirian’s hand still rested on the baby’s head, supporting it as she leaned her body forward towards the edge of the chair to push with as much of her might she could still muster. 

The first one was painful, Eirian screaming as she pushed. The only payoff being a slight gush of amniotic fluid dribbling around the head, spilling out of her straining womanhood, and around their fingers. As she took a breath and began to push again, her entire body shifted. Several things happened at once. Her body lurched as far forward in the chair it could, her knees coming up as close to her shoulders as she could bring them, and then one of the baby’s shoulders slipped free. 

Rhesh cheered, urging her to push one last time, their child almost free of her body. 

Eirian didn’t hear him, her entire focus now on her final push. Her cries went silent, her mouth just open and eyes screwed shut. Her pussy was pink, pulled tight around the huge half-orc baby that hung out of her. The weight of it put more pressure around her entrance as it pulled downward into Rhesh’s other hand. With her own hand, she felt the shoulder that popped out, and reached down to wrap her fingers under it’s armpit. As she began to lose steam at the end of her push, Eirian kept going, her hand now helping her as she pulled and pushed the huge child out of her.

A splatter of fluid gushed out of her as the babe came out, and Rhesh helped keep the child in their arms in the mess, guiding the child to rest on Eirian’s chest. 

Instinctively, she rubbed the child’s back - a girl, Rhesh said - and cooed, tears spilling over her cheeks as she stared at the little one in her arms. 

The cry that errupted from their daughter’s lungs was shrill and it made both of them laugh in relief and pride. Rhesh came up closer to the two of them now, rubbing the head of their little girl. 

“She’s loud and looks healthy,” Rhesh mumbled without attempting to hide his proud tone, “mama did a wonderful job.”

Eirian still cried, but sniffed, unable to take her eyes off the babe, her fingers trailing over her daughter’s features. Every part of the girl was perfect to her already, the pale green skin, the wide doe-eyes, and the obvious Elven ears. A beautiful combination of both parents. She would be beautiful and strong. 

A sudden stake of fear pierced her heart, coming back to the reality that their first born was a girl. Both of their people needed a male heir to secure the alliance for the foreseeable future, meaning she would have to go through this again. At least twice. 

Eirian swallowed, glancing back down at her perfect daughter, Rhesh’s hands caressing both her and the child lovingly. The worry of the future still nagged at her but she smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek - fully intent on cherishing this moment as long as she could.

[little-diable]

Hail Mary – Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

Well well well, we're back with the fucked up priest. He's just my fave to write, I ain't sorry. Don't like it, don't read it–remember that, please. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader had been sent to a monastery because her parents no longer endured having her around. But perhaps Priest Riddle will know how to handle her.

Warnings: 18+, smut, mutual masturbation, oral (m), orgasm denial, fucked up Priest Riddle, forced prayer, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (1.4k words)

picture from Pinterest, credit to original owner

“Would you call this spotless?” He towered over her, piercing eyes set on her tired, angry features. She didn’t reply, kept staring at the tall priest, who those she was surrounded by feared. The white collar around his neck seemed to grow tighter with every breath he took, impatiently waiting for the young woman to reply. 

“Speak!” His angry voice buzzed through her, leaving her trembling as she balled her hands into fists. She had been forced to join the monastery a month ago, as a young woman in her early twenties who seemed to lose her grip on reality. Doctors and priests had called her insane, guided by the devil–accusations that had forced her parents to send her to this godless place. 

���It’s clean, I scrubbed every inch.” Angry tears began to well up in her eyes. A humourless laugh left the man at her words, and with his lips pulled into a thin line, he pulled her off the ground. She fought against his grasp and tried to rip herself free, but the man didn’t react, he kept pulling her down the hallway.  

“Sister Jane told me you are a stubborn one. It’s time you finally learn to respect others.” She was tossed to the ground in the empty church, forcing a cry out of her as the cold nibbled on her limbs. (Y/n) was torn between anger, frustration, and fear, a deadly mixture she was about to fall victim to. 

“Pray for forgiveness, you will only stop once I’m satisfied. Start with your Hail Mary.” Her teeth drew blood as she sank them into her lower lip. She was determined, set on not giving in, no matter the pain that was undoubtedly awaiting her. The two kept holding eye contact for a few more seconds before an almost disappointed sigh left the man. 

“Remember that this is your own fault, (y/n).” Confusion tugged at her features as he came closer to her once again. She allowed herself to study him; he was undoubtedly handsome; she had tried to catch his attention for the past few days; and perhaps a small part of her had hoped that her protests and disrespectful behaviour would push her closer to him. 

“Show me your tongue.” (Y/n) blindly followed his command. Her uneasy eyes kept staring up at him as if he were the Messiah himself, a ruthless man she had mistaken for her saviour. Without another warning, the priest spat on her tongue, forcing her to swallow his saliva. “Sit down on the altar.”

He let go of her, forcing (y/n) to momentarily lose her balance before moving towards the altar carved from stone. Her body was trembling, shaking as if an earthquake kept buzzing through her. This was wrong; she knew that whatever was about to happen would be enough to call the cops on this place, but yet (y/n) didn’t care about any right or wrong; she wanted to be touched by him and would do whatever it takes to make it happen. 

“Part your legs.” She watched him sink down on the wooden bench placed in the first row, with his hands interlaced in his lap and the big cross dangling from his neck. Slowly, she parted her legs for him, knowing that her skirt was short enough to expose her already damp panties to his piercing eyes. 

“Touch yourself, (y/n).” It took her a second to set into motion, to let her fingers find their way to her panties. But before she could even begin to touch herself, the priest spoke up again. “We’ll try again with the Hail Mary. It’s best if you already start praying for forgiveness.” 

Her heart was in her throat, pounding as if she had been running for hours, chased by the darkness the tall man emanated. (Y/n) had to clear her throat as her fingers pushed her panties aside to expose her heat to his eyes. And with a trembling voice, she began praying.

“Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” Her fingers circled her pulsing bundle, moving with enough pressure to draw a raspy moan from her that momentarily interrupted her prayer. The priest kept his eyes focused on her, flickering between her features and her cunt, drawing satisfied sounds from him she couldn’t hear. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.” Her head rolled back, letting go of another moan as her fingers added more speed to their movements. She was too distracted by the intense feeling to notice him shuffling around, freeing his hardening cock. The ringed fingers (y/n) wanted to feel around her throat began to pump his cock, moving just as fast as her fingers. 

“Oh fuck, touch me, please, Father.” It felt as if she was begging for another chance to live, as if she were selling her soul to the Devil himself, about to sign a contract with her blood. The man only let go of a raspy chuckle, luring her further and further to the edge. 

“Why should I grant you this wish, (y/n)? You’ve been nothing but a disrespectful brat.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his, staring at the man with dilated pupils and parted lips. For a second, her fingers stopped moving, trapped by his question, the danger dripping from his words. 

“I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want, but I need you, please.” Not once had she begged this much before. Not once in her life had she spoken words that were this desperate. But at that moment she didn’t care, didn’t give in to the embarrassment that would normally flush through her. All she did was get lost in his eyes, the pupils that were filled with a colour so rich that even Eden would pale in comparison. 

“Not tonight, (y/n), not until you prove to me that you’re worthy of my touch.” Her fingers moved once again, driven by the need to give in and chase a blinding high that would rip her from this dimension. She kept staring at the man she wanted to feel closer, watching him pump his cock with fast movements she tried to match. It seemed as if he could tell that she was close, because just before she could tumble over the edge, he called her name, forcing her fingers to stop moving. 

“Come here, (y/n).” A whine left her as she stopped touching herself, fuelled by frustration as she felt her close orgasm letting go of her. With trembling limbs, she moved towards him, not daring to break their eye contact once. “Onto your knees, make me cum with your mouth.”

The words were enough to distract her from her frustration. She took hold of his twitching cock, pushed the tip past her lips, and sucked on the sensitive skin. His taste stuck to her tongue, leaving her moaning while bobbing her head. With every passing moment, she took more of him, choking around him whenever she got too eager. 

Priest Riddle’s ringed hand found her hair to guide her last movements, adding more speed while he couldn’t stop his hips from jerking, forcing his cock down her throat. Tears dripped down from her eyes, salty like the Dead Sea, like the tears Mary cried when her only son was crucified, dreadful moments that were no match to the bond (y/n) and the priest now formed.

With a raspy groan, the man came down her throat, forcing her to swallow every drop. She kept pumping him for a few more seconds before he pulled her off his cock. With his thumb, he wiped her remaining tears away before he redressed and rose to his feet. (Y/n) kept kneeling before him, waiting for him to push her through her own high–nothing but dreams he wouldn’t turn real, not tonight. 

“Kiss my shoe, thank me for this, and perhaps next week I’ll be more gracious and let you cum.”

[kaychen666]

THE KEY / THE HAND / THE GOOD SAMARITAN

THE PRAY / IT'S OK, WE GOT YOU

Finally I've completed this series. These were for my own practice with Luis as the main theme, and I experimented and researched a bit on lighting and atmosphere presentation. ↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓

For Leon's part, I decided on the colors before determining the composition. Ashley and Ada were focused on replicating the in-game lighting as closely as possible.

While conceiving this, I was crying into my pillow the whole time. I'm sorry for making you all go through this pain with me, and thank you for liking this series.To console myself and everyone, I drew a little bonus , give Luis a hug.

And this is an unused version😂😂 ↓

Thank s for watched!

[councilofcastamere]

DANGEROUSLY YOURS | AEMOND T. X READER

"An eternity without me. You will look into the faces of passers-by that will, for an instant, bring me back to you. You will find moonlit nights strangely empty, because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer. Always your heart will be aching for me, and your mind will give you the doubtful consolation that you did, a brave thing."

Cesar Romero as Victor Morell - Dangerously Yours (1937)

CREDITS FOR THE AEMOND PICTURE TO ultravi0l3t on Pinterest!

You were foolish. Foolishly in love.

The moonlit lit up, and the hour of the owl drew closer and closer. And yet, no sign of your little brother Lucerys. With each breath you drew, your heart stilled more and more.

You just knew it was him. You knew Aemond would. You had always known he'd wait for the right day to strike. The tears streaming down your eyes could've drowned you for all you care, but you wished for everything you had to bring Lucerys back.

And the one thing worse than that was the trust you put in him. You blinded yourself by love and drowned yourself in trust, all for him. All for the one-eyed prince you grew to both love and loathe.

You loathed yourself. You felt as if the world could have swallowed you up and no one would blink an eye. You had hoped for one day where you could look back at it and laugh, but at what point in your life could you ever let this go? A tragedy at your hands. You had not even attempted to stop him from departing to the stormlands.

Before you could bite back another sob, one feet stepped forward, and so did the other. Repeating the process before you could even register you were in front of the prince's chambers.

You didn't know what you would do first. Would you strike him, or would you cry into his shoulders? You wished for the former one, prayed to the Seven that you would be strong enough to shun him as he shunned your concerns.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the door opened just enough for his face to peek out. His hair was hastily brushed, as if he wanted you to see him in a different light. As if you ever could.

"Let me in." you simply uttered, not sure if you were speaking about his chambers. "Let me enter."

His eye scanned over you, over your purple nightdress and your hair undone. Even in the nocturnal hours, you looked as majestic as ever.

Your brown curls, so reminiscent of your father.

But he couldn't care less about your father, no.

Not your brothers. Not your mother. No. You.

And right now, he wasn't sure if he could face your tragedy-stricken self. He felt validated in the slaughter he committed, but your words could've alone made him repent for forgiveness.

He contemplated a few seconds, before ultimately opening the door wide. The room was neat, with the exception of his books sprawled out on his bed and table. You had never seen it before.

"Where is Lucerys?" you asked quietly, your voice cracking as your hands clenched at the side of your dress. "He hasn't come home. Mother won't tell me anything. She's still in Dragonstone, and I am here. I have been here for years, waiting to marry you."

His gaze was prideful, yet you weren't able to see his heart ache at your own grief. Whatever you felt, he felt. His feelings were dangerously yours, and yours were his.

"Stormlands." he answered, turning away as to not feel too much. "At least, if the sea hasn't swept him somewhere else."

Your head whipped up, and you swear you could feel your neck cracking if the rage hadn't consumed you.

"We both know he isn't in the ocean." you spat, the tears streaming down again. "What have you done, Aem-"

Aemond couldn't have it. He knew your last word.

'Aemond' instead of 'Aemy. He hated that you felt the need to use his full name. You had never used his full name, and you were not about to start now of all times.

His rugged yet soft lips were felt on yours, interrupting your words. The feelings in you dissipated, and you wanted to feel angry again.

How you wished to feel anger, sadness, anything.

But how could you when love overpowered it all for him. Only for him, by him. You loathed yourself for it.

"Get yourself dressed." he murmured against your lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. his nails gently scraped against your delicate skin.

"We'll be wedded by the end of this night. You and I. No one else."

[sadhornyygirl]

Kinktober

Day 9: sleep sex (stu macher)

You horny bitch.  It would be the first thing he would say, when he found you climbing onto his legs, sitting down with one movement.

 “How about I fuck you to sleep, huh?” Strong hands gripped the sides of his hips.

 The thought of being used and drained to the point of weakness made you attack him with anxiety.

 "Alright, relax you insatiable slut."  Feeling her wetness seep into his boxers, he groaned.  “I’ll make sure you regret waking me up.”

 You didn’t falter, the growing hardness beneath you caught your clit here and there, making you almost exhilarated by the sensation.

 "Go ahead, use me, pretty girl."  Lowering herself onto his cock, the words of praise made you clench.

 You didn't move for a moment, letting your fullness settle in, but the sharp slap to your side made you cry out, Stu grinning back.  "I didn't tell you to fucking use me."

 Shaking your head, you quickly pulled up and down again, the feeling of his dick dragging against your insides drew a moan from your lips.

 However, it was not enough.  Even with you slamming back onto his length, watching him moan at the heat of your pussy, you needed more, needed him to fuck you.

 “What's wrong, baby?  Can't you fuck off like I can?

 You whimpered and begged, hoping he would give in to his own desires and ravage you, but he just smiled.  “But it was you who wanted this, waking me up in the middle of the night.”

 “Please Stu” You struggled with the words, praying he would just move.

 "You want me to help you."  continued to mock.  "Why should I help a dirty little slut like you?"

 With his hands on his chest, he watched your pained expression, silently begging, and took pity on you.

 "My dirty slut, aren't you?"  Suddenly, he pulled you forward, pressing his lips to yours with the movement of his hips.  “Always wanting, needing that dick?”

 He pushed hard, reaching that specific spot you couldn't reach, making you arch back, giving him access to your neck.

 It didn't take long for the two of you to reach the end, ropes of cum spraying you as you spasmed around him.

 Laying on his chest, calming down and steadying your breathing, the two of you simply enjoyed the feeling of each other for a while.

 Until Stu went to push you, the stickiness became uncomfortable, but your still body didn't move.

 There he watched her dozing form, blissed out and breathing softly.

 “I think I fucked you to sleep,” he said kissing your forehead.  "Good night Princess."

@wearequeerskittles

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Game over

Part I

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: some hot scenes to come so be ready, nothing obscene tho (I'd love to but can't write "porn"😬); kind of slutty Azriel, swearing

You walked down the hallway towards Cassian's room, your eyes puffed from crying for hours. You prayed to Mother to find him alone. You needed him desperately. Cassian was your best friend, knowing all your secrets, even the one about your feelings for Azriel. He was the only one who volunteered to go with two of you on missions making a wall between you, comforting you after each argument. And now he almost paid with own life for his kindness.

Instead of knocking you eavesdropped behind his door, but except of Cassian's snoring room was silent. Carefully opening the door you peeked in. Cassian was fast asleep, bandaged wings spread on the bed. He was alone. You let out sigh of relief.

Quietly you stalked to his bed and sat on the edge of mattress. Gently caressing his hand you curled to his side. You were afraid to touch him, not wanting to cause him more pain. "I'm so so sorry, Cass," you sobbed. Snoring stopped and he moved slightly.

"Oh, doll, it's you," he groaned, voice hoarse.

"I didn't want to wake you up," you tried to hide your tears.

"Don't worry. I wanted to see you anyway. I'm glad you came."

"How do you feel?"

His big hand landed on your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "I'm high from the Madja's medicaments," he chuckled and you did so, too. He always knew how to make you smile. "Are you okay? Rhys was quite angry when he came yesterday."

"Hmm." You still needed to talk about it, but seeing his state you couldn't bring yourself to bother him with your problems.

"Hey, doll, look at me."

"Everything is fine," you lied.

"C'mon, show me your face," he patted on your shoulder. Reluctantly you obeyed. "I can see you cried. What happened? Did he hurt you?"

"Rhys was mad, but he did nothing to me. He just scolded me.."

"And?" his brows raised.

You let out a breath avoiding his gaze. "And closed me in his office together with Azriel," you muttered.

"What?!" Cassian tried to sit up, but pain in his back and wings prevented him from doing so. Grimacing he lay down again. "Is he crazy? Why? I'll give him piece of my mind when I see him next time. What happened after that?"

"Well, he said he won't let us out until we solve our problems," you explained, tears again stinging your eyes.

"You are out so.." Cassian encouraged you to continue.

"Azriel came with an idea how to make him let us go." First tear rolled down your cheek.

Cassian rubbed root of his nose. "What that idiot did to you?" He knew you so well, you didn't have to tell a single word and he knew what's on your mind. Sometimes it was quite scary.

"He came with plan to pretend we are in love and kissed me in front of Rhysand.." you sobbed.

"Doll.." he again rubbed your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

You shook your head. "I can't.. do that.. It all returned.. and.. I can't.. It hurts.."

Cassian drew you closer, hugging you as much as he could in his state. "I'm so sorry, doll.. But.. You don't have to do it.. If you want I'll talk with him."

"If Rhysand finds out we lied, next time he might also lock us at a cell.."

Cassian's lips pulled into a thin line, but he didn't say anything else, holding you and rubbing on your back while you cried yourself to sleep.

Azriel was wandering around the House, feeling of discomfort heavy on his chest. He didn't like the way your conversation ended up that morning and he didn't want to accept that his plan was over before he actually could act up to it. He tried to visit Y/N in her bedchamber, but she wasn't there. Everything felt off, so he sent the shadows to look for her. They guided him to Cassian's room, whispering to his ear.

Azriel didn't bother with knocking because as he was informed persons inside were fast asleep. Quiet like a cat he crept in, standing beside the bed. What he saw there made his insides twist with pain and anger.

Cassian laid in the bed with spread wings just like the other day, snoring. And there under his arm curled to his side was Y/N, their scents mixing together. He noticed their smell many times before, but he'd never witnessed it. Jealousy stabbed his heart like poisoned dagger, his teeth gritting in frustration.

Mine. Mine. Mine!

His breath quickened, brows furrowed, anger dripping from him. His fingers entwined around the Truth-teller. Shadowsinger wouldn't let anybody have what belonged to him, what he desired the most.

The shadows emerged in, blinding him and pushing him back to the door.

'Stop. Calm down. You will regret it. Brother. Family.' They hissed.

Azriel took few shuddering breaths. Okay, he wouldn't go so far. But he couldn't leave them like this either. He fixed his expression.

"Love, here you are," he shouted pretending he just came in. Both Cassian and Y/N woke up with a start.

"What the hell," Cassian groaned, pulling Y/N closer. Wide-eyed she looked up at Azriel.

"I was worried. I looked for you everywhere," Azriel continued his performance. He pulled on her arm, tearing her from the embrace, just to hold her close to his chest. She was about to say something, but he wouldn't let her and quickly kiss her on the lips. Azriel gave all his pain and jealousy into the kiss making it rough and needy. And Y/N reacted the same way as in front of Rhysand. Her knees gave out. Satisfied Azriel pulled away. He watched with delight as all kinds of emotions flashed across her face, especially enjoying the blush of her cheeks.

"What are you doing?" Cassian grunted, snapping him out of his observation.

Azriel turned to him. "Love, you haven't told him yet?"

"No need to pretend, Az. I know everything," Cassian rolled his eyes. Azriel turned back to Y/N, searching her face. So she told him? But why? What was between the two of them?

"I want to talk to you," Cassian said.

"Would you leave us alone, dove," Azriel traced her jaw with scarred finger. She inhaled sharply turning to Cassian.

"Cass.."

"Don't worry, doll," he grinned at her. Eyeing them she backed out from the room closing the door behind. But she didn't leave. Instead she stayed behind the door listening.

Azriel smirked as Cassian narrowed eyes on him. "What kind of game are you playing?" he asked quietly, aware that Y/N hadn't left.

"Not your business."

"I swear. If you hurt her I'll beat the shit out of you."

Azriel studied his face. "You feel something to her." It wasn't question.

"What if I do? Would you let her be?"

Azriel crossed arms on his chest. "No."

"Do you hate her so much that you want to destroy her?" Azriel winced.

"I'm not planning to destroy her."

"So what do you want from her?" Cassian snapped angrily.

"Not. Your. Business," Azriel growled.

They stared at each other trying to second guess the opponent. Azriel let out a breath after a while. Brother. My brother, he reminded himself.

"I don't want to hurt her, so don't worry," he said way softer than he really felt, turning to leave. "I would really appreciate if you stay away from her," he growled leaving the room. An amused snort sounded from behind as he was closing the door.

Corners of Azriel's mouth turned up in a smile as he looked to the place where Y/N was waiting, right next to the door.

"What did you talk about?" she asked coolly.

He stepped closer cornering her. "About you," he smiled even wider, hazel eyes capturing hers.

"What about me?"

"Hmm," he purred teasingly leaning in so he could feel her breath on his lips. Having her so close soothed his jealousy for good.

She just stood there pinned to the wall under his body, her heart racing. She wouldn't run away before getting answers. Fearless little thing. He liked it and finally he didn't have to hide it. Closing eyes he nuzzled his cheek to hers, drawing a soft moan from her.

"What will you give me if I tell you?" His deep voice sensually whispered to her ear and she shivered in pleasure biting down on her lip, unable to think straight. So hot, so sweet. He wanted to devour her right there on the spot, slowly, enjoying every inch of her. It took all his determination just to stand there, not touching her.

He needed to leave otherwise he would destroy everything. "Try to stay away from Cassian and his room, dove, would you?" he cooed, delivering sweet, light kiss on her lips. Her knees wobbled.

"It would look bad if somebody notice," he said over a shoulder walking down the hall, away from temptation.

After he left, Y/N let out a breath. Without anybody holding her upright she sank to the ground, her heart pounding so hard it threatened to jump from her chest and chase after the cause of this all. Why did he have such effect on her?

After the encounter in Cassian's room you didn't know what to think anymore. You heard just very little of their conversation and couldn't make anything out of it. Only one thing was clear: Azriel kept pretending to be in love with you without flaw whether somebody watched or no.

He kept touching you at any occasion he had. From feather like touches to passionate hugs, from his lips lightly teasing your skin to deep, needy kisses. Shadowsinger went so far that he was leaving flowers and small presents for you all around the house. It was so confusing.

In front of your friends you couldn't run nor push him away. You struggled every time he appeared close to you. Your heart ached and thrilled at the same time. You had to constantly remind yourself that he faked it. That none of that was real. However your heart didn't listen at all. It hurt so badly. Every day that passed in this manner was a torture and you tried to spend as much time in your room alone as possible.

One morning you woke up with a wing around you, dim light shining through. A strong arm was wrapped around your waist and your back was pressed against male's chest. At first you thought you fell asleep with Cassian. After all it wouldn't be the first time you slept like this.

As your brain started to work again, you stiffened. Last night you fell asleep alone in your room. The body behind you was muscular, but it was rather athletic while Cassian's body was more like a bear. Drops of cold sweat appeared on your forehead and your heart stuttered as realization hit you.

It was Azriel.

You swallowed, your heartbeat was rising with every second you stayed in this position. You didn't know what to do. You wanted to shove him away, but you also longed to stay like this in his arms for the rest of your life. You didn't dare to move.

Azriel behind you didn't move, too, seemingly asleep. However you could feel his heartbeat on your back, speed of it matching your own. And you felt it poking to the back of your thigh. Air became heavy with the smell of arousal.

The wing retracted letting morning light and fresh cold air in.

"'morning," Azriel groaned to your ear, voice still hoarse. Your panties got even wetter.

You forced yourself to retreat to the other side of bed. "What are you doing here?" you tried to sound confident and cool, but your shaky voice betrayed you.

Reclining Azriel smirked obviously satisfied with the way your body reacted to him. Your mouth went dry. He was so... Beautiful? Sexy? No word could adequately describe him.

His dark hair was messy from sleep, smirking full lips slightly parted and eyes.. Those eyes. Soft morning light turned his hazel eyes into liquid gold. Shadowsinger was in your bed looking like a god, toned chest on display. You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

"You are drooling, dove," he chuckled moving closer. His thumb ran over your lower lip teasingly. He was wearing just an underwear, his arousal still visible.

Instincts you gained over years kicked in, though you were too high. "Cover yourself," you moaned. Damnit.

Azriel leaned closer, his lips only inch from yours. "This is what you do to me. Don't you like it?" Thumb of his other hand caressed your thigh too close to your sex. You gasped, eyes going wide. Azriel's pupils blew out, gaze darkening, his scent changing once again.

You needed to cool down otherwise you could do something you would regret in the future. You tried to stand up, but Azriel stopped you.

"Beautiful," he murmured against your lips, closing the distance between you. The kiss was soft, playful at first, slowly heating up. He pulled you back down to the sheets, lightly crushing you under his body. His scarred hand grabbed your thigh and massaging it he hooked your leg around his hips.

No, your brain shouted while your heart was growing with every touch he provided. This was so wrong. You found the strength and pushed against his chest. Panting Azriel reluctantly obeyed. He gave you a questioning look.

"What's wrong, dove?"

"Stop it," a tear rolled down your cheek, followed by another soon. Tip of his fingers gently wiped it away. He was confused. "Stop it. Stop this pretending. It's too much. I can't-"

"Who said I'm pretending?" he whispered softly, studying your face with unreadable expression.

"You came with this plan to pretend in front of everyone.."

"Game is over, dove. It's actually never started. At least for me it wasn't game," Azriel sat up bringing you with him.

You were too confused. "What do you mean? What is this all about?"

Azriel hesitated. "I heard you," he breathed out, his eyes never leaving yours. His deep voice was so quiet you barely heard him. "That night at Rhys' office. You talked in your sleep. For years I couldn't tell you how I really feel, thinking you hate me. It was easier to hate you back than admit I want you. So I took advantage of the situation Rhysand got us into and decided to show you instead. I guess it wasn't the best way.."

Something in your chest warmed up and grew with every word he spoke. "It wasn't game," you repeated, trying to put your thoughts together. You replayed all events, touches and kisses of the last weeks seeing it in new light. You could literally hear wards around your heart crack. He didn't pretend it. None of that.

You searched his eyes looking for traces of lie just to find out it was truth. Your hand moved on its own accord, resting on his cheek. Azriel leaned into the touch closing his eyes for a moment.

"No pretending?"

"Not even once," he shook his head. All suppressed feelings crashed out like a wave breaking last of the walls you built around your heart. You threw yourself around his neck almost knocking him down to blankets, squeezing him as you cried. Shadowsinger groaning with effort to stay upright, hugging you back.

"Az," you sobbed.

"Yes, angel," Azriel rested his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"You are such idiot," you playfully tugged on his hair.

"I know," he chuckled. "Will you give me a chance to make it up to you?"

You snorted. "It won't be easy."

"I love challenges." With that he started nipping at your neck slowly moving up to the sensitive spot under your ear.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Winter Sun (25)

25. A sea of doubt

MASTERLIST

Summary: The final battle approaches 

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, mentions and implied non-con and involuntary imprisonment, birth of a baby and all that comes with it,, fear of miscarrying, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 2.9 k

Notes: uffff HERE IT ISSSS OUR SECOND BABY

Aemond was preparing it all, he found in the small town adjacent to your castle a willing Septon, and your castle had a small chapel where the ceremony could be held.

Like his mother’s favorite child, he was close to the Gods, it meant quite a lot to him for you to be his in their eyes, under the faith of the seven, not under those false, Old Gods like the pagan Cregan Stark

He couldn’t be happier, you were getting heavy with his child, maybe two months shy of giving birth, it had to be soon.

But as he was getting ready to fetch you, having already prepared a dress and jewelry for you… he received an important letter from his men on Harrenhal

They were a week away to be surrounded by the Northerners and the Knights of the Vale, all of them together had come to destroy them. The spies had just spotted the great army marching past the Crossroads Inn

“The greatest army the seven Kingdoms had ever seen”

He only smiled because the bigger the army, the slower they were, and the easier way for him to burnt them all with his Dragon

But he needed to gather his own army , with the Baratheons and the Royal army, it was going to be easy to surround the army between them and Harrenhal, and from there it was going to be an easy defeat.

But he had to postpone the ceremony

His child might be born a bastard

But no matter, his brother will declare him legitimate, and he was going to marry you afterwards anyways. 

He went to say goodbye to you, he found you as he always did, with a sad look on your eyes and a tight line as your lips. 

The only thing you said to him was

“I wish you good fortunes in the wars to come, my prince”, and the only thing he said was to promise you he was going to come back before the baby comes, you didn’t want him to

With that in his mind, he left you in your home once again, climbing into Vhagar’s back, and flying away 

You saw the monstrous dragon flying away from your home and you could only feel relief, your own dragon flying around the cliffs she knew so well, and you prayed to the Old Gods that Aemond would never return again.

Because every breath that you drew was agony, when you think about Rickon, it had been months in which he had been growing without you, and your only wish was to see him again, to take him in your arms and hug him against your chest. Your hand went instinctively to your belly, feeling so conflicted

Was it Cregan’s? or was it Aemond’s?

You couldn’t escape Aemond, you couldn’t escape him taking you, and possibly impregnating you, but, you could escape being married to him.

Aemond had left, and he didn’t marry you before he did 

After that… threat, it felt like threat to you, marrying Aemond, there wasn’t really much you can do to avoid it, he couldn’t make you say the words, he couldn’t make you marry him, but right now, you didn’t feel like you had the strength to fight him, this baby was draining you of your energy constantly

If the Baby was Cregan’s, your due date should arrive very shortly… a few weeks maybe, your belly button had popped out of your belly, which happened right before Rickon was born… 

But your belly wasn’t as big as RIckon’s had been

The uncertainty was killing you. The prospect of your baby having dark hair will give Aemond exactly what he needed to send it back to Winterfell, another child you would not be able to raise as your own. The thought alone made you cry and as a deep ache had settled in your chest, you whined when you felt a pressure in your lower belly

“Ah!”, and then… a strong contraction. 

If it was Aemond’s baby, it was too soon

Too soon

And a crippling fear got a hold on you, thinking you might lose your unborn baby

“No no no, please!”, you cried, “please”, you didn’t think you could survive losing a child, so fat bitter tears fell down your eyes, “not yet, not yet ARGH!”, a contraction wrecked your body again, it was all so sudden

Your screams could be heard so loud in the castle, a maid was by your side in a second

“Your grace”, yes Aemond had insisted you would claim back your title of princess, “what is it?”

“It’s the baby”, you whined, “I think it’s coming!”, and if it was like you were calling it, your water broke, wetting the floor beneath you. You whimpered, more scared than in pain

It happened so quick

A cloud of pain numbed you, as the maid called in the castle’s midwife, who brought in a young assistant, they helped you out of your dress and put on you a soft night shift, they released your hair, and soon it stuck to your forehead with your sweat

They help you to the bed, it all happened so quickly.

“You are doing it great”, the midwife said sweetly

“What if it is too soon?”. you whined, “it’s a little over seven moons”, you explain. She look at you sweetly

“All is going to be fine, your grace”, she reassured you, and you believe her

You had felt your baby kicking all week, so you became certain it was going to be alright.

“AH!”, a strong and painful contraction made you rethink that statement, it was pain, pain all over. 

It was the worst pain you ever felt in your entire life.

With Rickon it all had been sudden, you had never felt anything like it, but it happened rather quickly, you had heard of women who had suffered for hours and hours, but Rickon came quickly and without much fuss

You were lucky

But you felt like your luck was running out

You whined when you saw the faces of the midwives and maids constricting more and more in worried gazed as minutes turned to hours.

It was tortuous, the pain came and went lin waves, hitting you hard like a storm against the rocks

“Push your grace! it’s time!”

And you did, with all your strength, you did, in what it seemed like hours of excruciating pain with no end.

And then… with a last push you expelled your baby from your body

And even though there was an end to the pain… there was nothing else…

Only silence

You stopped crying in relief, to start worrying

The midwife wouldn’t look at you, you trying to raise your head to look over the bloodied sheets but you couldn’t see anything either

“What is happening?”, you cried, “why isn’t he crying?”, they were tense minutes in which the only thing that could be heard was your labored breaths and then…

A cry, your baby’s cry

You cried with relief 

“It’s a healthy baby boy, your grace!”, the midwife said, “a little small, but he is strong as a horse!”, you were so relieved, so relieved to hear that, that you didn’t care when she placed your baby in your arms, and you saw his silver strands on his head.

Another son

You cuddled against your chest, he was crying his little lungs out, but as soon as he felt you, he got quiet, trying to open his eyes

He was so beautiful, still covered in afterbirth, but he was so small 

“Hello little one”, she was right, he was small, very much so, but still, he looked healthy, he had all his toes, all his fingers. You kissed his bloodied forehead, “my baby”, you whispered, “and mine alone”, you whispered

You felt incredibly relieved, he was well, healthy, and that is all that mattered

The maids cleaned your son, cleaned you, the bed, all of it. And let you be with your baby

A million thoughts were going through your mind once the maester came to see you and gave you milk of the poppy to soothe your aching body. You watched your son right next to you, sleeping, and you believed he didn’t look like Aemond nor Cregan, he was only a newborn.

Perhaps you were never going to know

But the white hair… he was small, that truly made you think, doubt, fear

Maybe Aemond was never going to come back to the castle, perhaps he was going to die, and he was going to leave you alone, in your home at least

What then?

If Aemond is not here, would you return to Winterfell? What about your new baby? was he going to be welcomed? Rickon needed you, he needed his mother, he needed you, the North had Sara to lead them until Rickon comes of age, but he was going to need you, but… Was the people of the North going to receive you?

There was so many things in your mind, that you barely heard when a maid entered your room slowly and gently 

“What is it?”, you asked softly

“I need to speak to you, your grace”, she said, she seemed nervous

“Speak”, you encouraged gently, caressing your son’s cheek, you wondered how you were going to name him, Aemond had barely suggested names.

“Your grace, now that the baby is here”, the maid, the oldest one, that had known you since you were a child, approached you, “I need to tell you something”

“What is it?”, you asked, concerned

“Prince Aemond went to fight the Northerner army”, she said, and that truly surprised you, “and the knights of the Vale, but also… Daemon Targaryen''

“Daemon?”, you asked, amazed, “really?”, she nodded enthusiastically. 

“I heard him talking to the maester, the Northerner army gathered, it is one of the greatest the seven kingdoms has ever seen”

Daemon was the only one who could face Aemond and actually have a chance, but his chance will certainly increase if…

You helped him

“Why are you telling me this?”, you asked her

“Queen Rhaenyra sits the iron Throne”, you gasped, “the only Green army left is in Harrenhal, the last stand of the Greens!”, she said

“Rhaenyra sits on the Iron Throne?”, you asked, wanting to cry from happiness

“Yes!”, she said, “and the final battle is going to be fought in Harrenhal!”

You looked at your baby in your arms, it could only take two days for you to be ready again. You could go to Harrenhal, nobody was going to stop you, you could leave your baby here, he was going to be safe… but you doubted, what if Aemond made it, and attacked you? he could kill you… 

And then, your baby, with silver hair, he opened his eyes and revealed a pair of icy blue eyes, gray almost, just like Cregan’s

You gasped.

He truly could be Cregan’s, you had to fight for the Northerners!, you had to help them, you had to help end this madness

Aemond had arriveD before everyone, but thanks to his spies he knew the army was within a two day march away from the castle

He was tempted to go and meet them halfway and burn them all

But his army was halfway as well

It needed to be decisive and a powerful hit to the Black forces.

And after this, he was going to retake the capital and save his mother and sister. His drunk of a brother could be gone for all he cared, he was going to be King next. 

ALL WAS GOING TO BE WELL 

He had the girl, he was going to have a child, he was going to become king, who cared if he had to betray and force his way into it? it is what he deserved

As he grabbed the stones of the battlements of Harrenhal, and looked beyond those lands to the North, he breathed in all the excitement for the battles to come. 

But as soon as the sun set on the very next day, Aemond, with horror, saw the wood surrounding Harrenhal lit up with a hundred thousands of torches. Threatening him,  teasing him, they surrounded the huge fortress completely, there was no way out for him

If he had been only a simple man.

That night Harrenhal, and all the men within didn’t sleep. The Northerners and the Knights of the Vale blew horns and played the drums all night long, to completely destroy the morale of the soldiers within the burnt walls.

And it had worked

Aemond haven't sleep a wink the whole night, he didn’t even attempt to go to bed, he just stood over the battlements until the very first light, were this own soldiers started to prepare

The captains of the small group of soldiers came to him, asking him what they were going to do about the huge army waiting like a hungry wolf to a dying prey in front of it, and yet not doing anything.

Aemond had to win some time, his own army could surround them, press them against the castle, and then they could hit them from above and from inside, and the Baratheons and the royal army led by Criston was going to kill them from the back

Oh if only

As he was organizing the boiling of thousands of gallons of oil that was going to be dropped over the heads of the savages from the North, when Aemond heard a sharp growl that made him tremble, although he was never going to admit it

The biggest army in the world was not alone

His uncle had come for him

“I want her to know I’m here”, said Cregan,a s he looked amongst the trees at the high walls of Harrenhal

“She probably believes you are dead”, muttered Deamon, looking at him, the love he saw in the Stark’s eyes was incredible

“I don’t care, remember what I said, no destruction to the castle, we don’t know where she is…”

“Yes, I know”, he said, almost bored. Daemon put his helmet on, and then walked towards Caraxes, climbing to his saddle, and then he commanded him to fly

And the battle started.

Caraxes flew over Harrenhal teasing Aemond and Vhagar. The greens distributed their efforts in all points of the battlements, following the lead of the Blacks that had surrounded the castle, but now, early in the morning they marched towards the weakest point of the walls, focusing all the efforts in one point of the walls. 

The wall was overrun was the Knights of the Vale siege weaponry pretty easily, half day in and they already where breaching the walls

The battle was brutal

Specially when the Baratheons and the remains of the usurper’s royal army arrived and attacked the forces of the blacks that were yet to enter the castle wall’s

A battle that was going to be told throughout the ages,

The castle was quickly overrun, but every soldier of the black forces waited for Cregan’s command. The Stark had clear instructions that he was to be the one to enter the castle first with his best twenty men. The goal was to find you, and the people inside didn’t suffer the cruelties of war. He wanted to secure you first, before he could let his soldiers take the castle.

But he couldn’t find you anywhere

You weren’t here

He felt a desperation inside his chest.

You knew that monster might hurt you, the way sick men harm women, but he could never guess that he could… actually end your life

No, he couldn’t lose hope, he had survived to find you, you couldn’t be gone. No, he believed Sara’s visions, you had so much to life together, you had to be still of this world.

As he was hastily walking towards a huge window… he heard it.

He ran towards it so he could see outside towards the skies, he would recognize that growling anywhere.

Just as Vhagar and Caraxes intertwined in a mortal embrace to kill each other, another dragon soared the skies, a white, huge dragon 

Vhaelar

Vhagar met Caraxes in the skies, he was quickly to bit his wings, but the blood wyrm turned in the air, scratching the Queen of dragon’s chest and making her release him. That is when Vhaelar appeared from between the skies.

Aemond couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

For a second he believed you had come to his aid, but his idea quickly disappeared when Vhaelar close her huge jawa surrounding VHagar’s neck

Caraxes took the opportunity to burn the old dragon’s body and then bit off one of his huge wings.

You were in the air, fighting with dragons.

Cregan saw with wide eyes as you took the Queen of Dragons off of the skies. Vhaelar released Vhagar, that fell limply to the lake underneath. The water column that formed when VHagar fall into the lake was as tall as the castle, but nobody would ever believe it. 

Your huge she-dragon kept herself on the air with the help of her huge wings, and just as Daemon’s Caraxes was also trying to keep himself in the air, he was hurt, but he was going to be alright in time. 

But under Cregan’s and Daemon’s surprised gaze, you made your dragon turn around in the air, and flied away

Cregan whined, concerned, as fast as you had came, you were leaving Harrenhal without even stepping a foot within its walls

Without the support of a dragon the Green forces were done for.

They were completely alienated, having captured Lord Borros Baratheon, Criston Cole and another important men

But Cregan couldn’t care less about that.

He needed to find you. 

More notes!: So... are you still with doubts? hehehe, so he is small... so he could be Aemond's... and has silver hair, but it has eyes with a similar color as Cregan's... and reader did spend a rough period with Aemond without much eating and drinking... so it could be that... anyways I'm not a doctor JEJEJE

A little messy I felt, but I really wanted to write this, up next we will see the reader's POV and FINALLY THE REUNION

TAGLIST!

@severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker 

@lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine @​​mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel 

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @zoleea-exultant @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @zoleea-exultant @llleon666 @dark-night-sky-99 @bitchigoteverythingissues @harrypotteranna23-blog@esposadomd @ajanauia @phantomtea19 @let-love-bleeds-red @kishie8 @dreamingofyourmoons @esposadomd @sandronebabyy @kemillyfreitas @​​trifoliumviridi @dreamingofyourmoons @darling-jace @biblichorr @ivvypg @mendes-bae @borikenlove @tssf-imagines @praline357 @alitaar @prettykinkysoul @aelora-a @a-mexican-waffle @ateliefloresdaprimavera @alexa40400 @lrboyd @anditsmywholeheart  @weaselyss  @scarlettqueen190 @deeeeexx @cloudroomblog @dreaming-of-the-reality @yentroucnagol @crazymusicgirl104 @toodlesxcuddles @thanyatargaryen

[naturesapphic]

Hey! Please can you do a Lorraine x fem reader. where instead of Ed the reader is married to Lorraine and is her partner, they are doing an investigation and reader gets hurt? Totally fine if not x🥰

Investigation gone wrong

Lorraine warren x fem!reader

Warning: demons, scary, ambulance, injury

You and your wife Lorraine was doing a investigation where it seemed pretty normal at first until Lorraine gave you a nudge on your shoulder. You pulled her aside to see what was wrong and she gave you a frightening look. “This house isn’t right y/n. It’s evil. At first it seemed like it was trying to hide it or hide itself but it’s slowly starting to reveal itself to me and I don’t like it. I don’t know what to do.” Lorraine explained and you felt your body get chills all over.

Lorraine usually could handle these types of spirits but it seems like this one was getting to her and you didn’t like that. “We will be fine my love. If we need to we can go ahead and leave if you want.” You reassured you and she nodded her head quickly. The two of you returned to the family and told them what was happening which made the more worried than before when they contacted the two of you. When you were packing up and about to leave, you felt something watch you and all of a sudden you let out a scream as your back hit the floor.

You see a shadow coming towards you and soon it was over your body as you couldn’t catch your breath. You hear Lorraine in the background praying and screaming, trying to banish it. It seemed to work because the shadow just evaporated into nothingness and you felt your breath start to slowly come back but you let out a cry as you tried to move. Lorraine rushed over to you with tears streaming down your face as she yelled out for someone to call the ambulance. “Lorr it h-hurts..” you whimpered out as your own tears starting streaming down your red face.

Lorraine shushed your quietly as she held your head in her hands as she heard drew call the ambulance. “They will be here soon baby it’s okay I got you…” she whispered as she held you. In a few minutes the paramedics were here and they put you on a stretcher. Lorraine went with you and rode with you inside the ambulance as they took you to the hospital. It took an hour in total to get you to the hospital, to rush you in and to hook you all up. The doctor came in and told you and Lorraine that you have messed up your back pretty bad and that they will prescribe you some medicine.

They told you to lay off for a while and if you do need to work then you need to take a wheel chair or walker with you at all times. You will be wearing a back brace too as well as do some physical therapy just to make sure nothing else gets worse and to make your back stronger again. In a few hours you were released and got sent back home. Lorraine immediately put you in bed since it was already late and plus you had to anyway. Lorraine went downstairs and fixed you two some dinner while you laid in bed, reading a book, well tried to. Moments later you heard your wife coming up the stairs with a tray in hand.

She puts it on your lap and sits beside you on the bed. She starts to feed you which make you giggle which makes her smile. The two of you eat your meals in silence and once you were down Lorraine grabbed the tray and went back downstairs to put it up. She came back up and started getting herself ready for bed. “Thank love for taking care of me and for dinner.” You said breaking the silence as Lorraine slipped on her dress. She turned around and gave you a soft, loving look. “Anytime baby. I’ll always take care of you. You never have to worry about that.” She says and you nod. “I will always take care of you too lorr. I love you so much.” You reply and she gets in the bed beside you and gets under the covers. “I love you most my sweet. Now get some rest okay sweetie?” She said and you nodded, carefully getting comfortable in the bed as Lorraine snuggled closer to you, the two of you falling asleep peacefully beside each other.

A/n: I hope @13thdoctor-run likes it and I hope the rest of y’all too! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all :) more stories coming out soon for my other characters like Natasha romanoff, Billie eilish, lady dimitrescu, Jade west, and more :)

[darkgodcomplex]

The Lord’s Child

Wally X Reader

CW: ABUSE, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, YANDERE, RELIGIOUS GUILT, NON CONSENSUAL TOUCHING

AO3 Link

Here’s the story:

Your hands clasp in prayer as the congregation around you mutters a collective "amen" and starts to shuffle out. Despite the service ending, you don't budge from your pew, continuing to kneel as people pass by until the church is empty.

Well, almost empty.

Still dressed in his priest attire, Wally watches you silently for a moment, wondering what on earth you would want to pray for when you’re already perfect.

He approaches and you’re startled by his voice as he speaks, “Why are you kneeling, child?”

You turn your head, looking up at him. Your sweet, innocent eyes look up at him.

You blink at him, “I-I was just praying, Father.”

He smiles, “You’re the picture of godliness, my child.” He reaches down, index finger hooking under your chin and tugging it up higher as his thumb ghosts over your soft cheek, gently petting you. “I can tell your heart is pure.”

“How can you tell?” You almost demand, voice desperate for his praise. He nearly trembles from the tone. There’s nothing he loves more than the world breaking you down and him picking up all the pieces.

Wally kneels down next to you, clasping your hands in his own. “I can feel you.” He leans in to whisper in your ear. The two of you are so close now that he can feel your hot breath on his neck and hear your heart beat in your chest.

He leans even closer, lips close to brushing your ear, and you flinch away. Wally smiles.

That. That is what made you pure. The way you’re so desperately wanting his affection yet also so afraid of it.

Wally pulls back, keeping his cool. “What did you come to pray for today, my child?”

Your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of red as you look away. “It’s nothing.

“My dear, don’t go lying to a priest.” Wally pushes.

Your cheeks turn even redder as you shrink into yourself. You very clearly don’t want to tell him, which makes him want to know even more.

“Father, it’s just stupid troubles-“

“I want to know.” He puts the pressure on you by waiting in silence.

“It’s just…”

Wally watches you intensely, head tilted to the side as he waits for you to explain.

“I just…” You fidget nervously. “I don’t fit in anywhere.”

Wally can’t help but grin. “Of course you don’t fit in anywhere.” His tone is sweet but his words are cruel. “You’re too pure. The world outside will never accept you.”

Your lower lip begins to tremble and the sweet, guiltless eyes he loves begin to tear up.

“But that’s okay.” Just as he’s cruel, he’s sweet. “You belong with the church. You belong with me.”

Wally runs his hand over your cheek. As tears fall, he doesn’t wipe them away. Instead, he presses his thumb against them, dragging the wetness down your cheek.

“You don’t have to cry.” Wally whispers. “I know you need me. I know you want me. This is all god’s plan.”

This doesn’t stop the gentle flow of tears down your cheeks. That’s okay though. He’ll take you broken.

As he comforts you, Wally slowly gets closer and closer, hand sliding up your thigh to massage circles into the muscle and hot breath trickling over your neck.

You freeze, slowly beginning to realize what’s happening. Took you long enough.

His mouth attaches to your neck, at first sucking and then biting. He can feel you start to tremble beneath him and he pulls away, pressing gentle kisses to where he drew blood and touching you with soft hands.

“Do not be afraid.” He presses another kiss to your wound. “This is what faith is, loving other people. God blessed us with the ability to give and receive love.”

Wally brings his lips up to your ear, wiping blood on it as he kisses it. “I love you, my child.”

“I-I-“ Your terrified voice speaks up, a surprise to him. Your timidness had always been to his advantage.

“I don’t want this!” You shove Wally off of you, scrambling back.

Wally lands back on the pew, nearly hitting his head in your sudden struggle. He blinks at you.

“By rejecting my love you’re rejecting the lord.” Wally spits. “Nobody loves you except me. Nobody could ever love you except me. You’ll go right back to not belonging.” Wally’s breathing is heavy as he finishes.

You start to cry again, “No, I don’t reject the lord.” The years of religious guilt he’s built up in you is paying off.

Wally sighs, “Then let me love you. Stop this nonsense and come here.” He points in front of him.

Slowly, you crawl over to him and he heaves you into his lap. You bury your face in his neck, still sobbing as he rubs your back.

“You belong to god and so you belong to me.” Wally says sternly. “Listen to the lord and you will set yourself free, my dear.”

You nod into his neck and he grasps you tighter.

God is not in this church.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Day 2 for @eonweweek

"Lessons in war"

Prompt: Friendships      

Pairing: Eönwë & Ingwion

Themes: Soft

Warnings: None

Word count: 1K words

Summary: As preparation for the War of Wrath, Eönwë trains his friend, Prince Ingwion, on the art of swordplay.

A/n: for this story, I wrote Telimektar as being a Maia who serves Tulkas.

“You did well for your first lesson,” Eönwë said, “but there is more to be done, my prince.”

Ingwion sighed. He had been thrown to the dirt with ease, and he prayed none of the others bore witness to his defeat. Presently he said, “What must I do, my lord?”

“You must watch the placement of your feet,” Eönwë said, extending his hand, “the swing of your body, and the flow of your arms. If you do not, they will betray your every move to the enemy, just like they betrayed your every move to me mere moments ago. Come. Let us try again.” 

Prince Ingwion grasped the hand that was offered and was pulled back to his feet. “I fear my hands were crafted for the wielding of quills,” he said, his chest heaving from exertion. “And my feet and body were made for the elegance of dance, never the elegance of swordplay. But I will try again, my lord. I swore an oath when I answered the call to arms, and I mean to honor it.”   

“Good.” Eönwë returned the prince’s sword, and he went back to his own position. All around them the sounds of swords clashing, and flails and maces smashing against heavy armor and shields, filled the air. A great war loomed before them, and the warriors who answered the call to arms tested one another to their limits in Valimar’s great sparring yard. They could not afford to fail; to do so meant that Melkor would gain complete mastery of Endorë and possibly beyond. “Now take your place,” the Maia commanded, “and let us begin.”

Ingwion took a moment to compose himself. Then he charged at his opponent with a cry and swung his sword. Eönwë answered with greater skill and swiftness. The sheer force of his blade striking true made the prince grit his teeth in pain. Nevertheless, Ingwion preserved, and he pressed forward a second time. Eönwë did not falter. He countered without a moment’s hesitation, his sword slicing through the air in a glittering silvery arc. It rang with a great clangor as steel cut into steel. Ingwion, shocked, drew back and glanced at his sword; it bore a deep notch.

“Again,” Eönwë said. “Attack me again.” 

The elf circled him, alert and silent. He could never best Eönwë; no elf could ever best a Maia who was at their most powerful. Still, he had to try. He was the crown prince, after all, and it was he who had to lead the Vanyar in the war that was to come. He could not call an end to the fighting so quickly.

The others finished their training. They gathered around the prince and the herald in a circle to watch. Some even held wagers. Ingwion paid little attention to them. He set his thoughts on the one before him instead and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, determined to do better. Eönwë smiled, and he waited. 

Ingwion pressed the attack for the third time. Eönwë countered him with a masterful swing of the sword, and he forced him back. The prince narrowed his eyes. Then he lunged with all his might. Eönwë was prepared for this. In one swift move, he slid to the side, his blade glinting as it caught the golden light of the sun. It fell before anyone could even perceive it, knocking the sword clean out of Ingwion’s hand. The prince stopped, gasping for breath. He turned to face his friend and mentor, ashamed he had failed so easily. 

“Do not give your heart over to shame and disappointment,” Eönwë counseled. He picked up the fallen sword and returned it to the prince. “Failure must be expected, especially now that you have only just begun your training. And you have much time still, to master the sword.” 

“You are not angry?”

“I am not, my friend. Besides, I am Ainu. You are elf-kind. I can never expect you to unarm me.” 

The others left, talking quietly among themselves. Ingwion, on the other hand, followed Eönwë to the little hall, where warriors would gather to eat and drink. Here, beneath the light of gilded lamps affixed to hooks in the ceiling, they kept to themselves and dined on a simple meal of bread and stew and wild berries in honey. An attendant pressed a cup of golden Miruvórë into the prince’s hand. He took a sip and sighed in contentment. The beverage was warm and fragrant, and it revived him, filled him with renewed vigor, and drove away the aches he felt in his limbs. 

“You did well, truly,” Eönwë said. He savored a spoonful of stew, and a small bite of bread. “And you must not be disheartened by your loss. War is wholly new to the Vanyar, and the use of weapons besides. I will teach you all that I know. And I will guide you when we are in Endorë. You will not have to shoulder your burdens alone.”

“Tis strange,” Ingwion said. Another attendant set down a platter of tiny fish roasted to crackling on their table. The prince helped himself to a few, closing his eyes in delight when they crunched between his teeth. “Before the Mariner arrived, you and I whiled away our hours indulging in poetry and delicious food and song. Now, we must spend our time learning the many intricacies of war. I must confess, I never thought such a thing possible.”

“Aye,” Eönwë agreed. “War was not thought of by many, until elf rose against elf in Alqualondë.”

“There you are!” Telimektar cried. The Maia of Tulkas stood by the lip of the doorway, his harp in hand. He was not alone. Ilmarë stood a pace behind him, her silver-pink hair woven into thick braids. “Dining by yourselves and speaking quietly. This will not do. This will not do at all.”

“What do you propose, my lord?” Ingwion said, beaming. No chamber remained quiet for long after Telimektar arrived. 

“A song,” Telimektar told him. He crossed over to the table where the prince and the herald sat, and he found a seat for himself by Ingwion’s left. Ilmarë found herself a seat by Eönwë’s right. “What say you, my lords? My lady? Would any of you care for a melody or two?” 

“A song would do just nicely,” Eönwë said. He grinned when he caught the twinkle in Telimaktar’s eyes. The Maia would sing a bawdy air, no doubt, and make them all flush from cheek to chest. “Begin, my friend! Grace our ears with something delightful.”

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

[ellievickstar]

Valentine's Week Day 2: Too far, Too late.

A/N: I kind of upped and said, "aight I've been too nice recently y'all need to cry." And like given my track record, I don't think anyone is surprised. No I will not proofread this we are doing this shit raw. If anyone wants their therapy bills paid...respectfully, no.

Summary: When the events of the war settles and everyone is settling court affairs, a fox sneaks away from his home to visit the meadow where he had once met his mate. Longing for a time where it was not too late.

Request: Nope.

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Warnings: Character Death, takes place after the events of Hybern, reader is from the Autumn Court and was Eris's mate.

𓃦°˖➴જ⁀➴

Approaching the stone that had your name engraved to it's surface, Eris smiled and sat down, his hands coming to lay flat on the grave where he had buried you, lying in the flowers that he had grown. Dandelions, a symbol of freedom that had been your favourite. "Hello little fox," He whispered, his eyes closing as he remembered the first day you had met all those years ago.

Your head cocked to the side as you gazed at the red-headed boy in front of you, eyes traveling his frame. He stood tall, straight, almost as if he had a stick taped against his back just so he could stand as straight as he did. You eyes narrowed as he took a step towards you, almost taking a step back to sprint back into the forests that was your home.

"Wait!" He yelled, arm flinging out to catch you by your wrists, "I don't mean to intrude, I'm just running away right now." You did not detect a lie in his voice, cautiously you took a step towards him. Freckles littered across his face, warm brown eyes, red hair that suited his pale complexion. One would say the boy was almost handsome. However, you had heard the rumours about him. The young lord of the Autumn Court. Despite your family being from Autumn, your parents often warned you of the High Lord and his family, how his sons were cruel and mean. But the boy in front of you...

"Eris, Eris Vanserra," He introduced. You nodded, mumbling out your own name shyly. He began to grin as he dragged you towards the middle of the meadow. "Sit with me!" He insisted. Rolling your eyes, you giggled and Eris could have sworn in his small mind that he had never heard a sound more enchanting. "My mother taught me how to make flower crowns, here!" He swiftly crafted one as his hands deftly weaved the stems together, the sunflowers that he picked up weaving to form a circle that he placed on your head. "Mother said that flower crowns are given to people who love each other," You blushed. His face went scarlet and you laughed at the sight.

"Oh!" You exclaimed as you spotted something from the corner of your eye. A dandelion was sprouting and as you went to pick it up, you pressed the flower into his hand. "Make a wish!!" You commanded, looking at the flower, he smiled, wishing for something he prayed would be possible. "Now blow," You instructed, and once more you both erupted into giggles as the dandelion came apart and was whisked away by the breeze into the air.

But that had been a long time ago. Even on the first day of meeting you, he had known. A part of him was completely entranced by your existence, and everything you did drew him in. On long nights he spent tending to your wounds from hunting. On long nights you had spent holding him as he hid from his father.

On days where you both lazed around in the meadow doing nothing but reveling in each other's presence. On days you had both done nothing but chase each other around the meadow, finding dandelions to make wishes, not knowing you were wishing for the same thing.

All those times he had felt home with you. Had felt safe with you. Only you.

Even know when you were gone he could not help but be here by your side where he buried you. Be here whispering stories, making jokes, imagining for just one moment that you could be here.

"I will love you for the rest of my life little fox, even if you are not here. There will not be a moment where I will not look into every flame and think of you. Your spirit is within me. My mate. For the rest of time you will always be my one and only, from now until we become the stars in the night sky, until i can join you wherever you are, I will continue to fight, to live, just for you."

𓃦°˖➴જ⁀➴

A/N: This is kinda short buttttt i'm not sorry. I'm gonna do more character death angst. And I'm not sorry. This is just a taste of it. You guys will get more character death.

[unironicallytes]

Dear Brother: Overall Supplemental Lore

Domitius' Vow

[Below is an in-universe Familial Padomaist fable, used to explain the role of vampires within the Dark Brotherhood.]

It is said that in the Brotherhood’s early days, there lived the pious assassin Domitius, whose heart was ever-blackened and whose hands were always bloodied. Domitius toiled away to ferry souls to the Void throughout his life, and his own time finally arrived when he failed to best a target in combat. Domitius fought valiantly, but accepted his demise with humility and acceptance. “Alas, though I cannot deliver this soul to my Father, it is fated that mine go in their stead - it is a blessing to have lived a life in devotion and received my end,” he thought, as his target prepared the final blow. But amidst the struggle, their flowing blood mixed, and Domitius became infected with something unnatural as he passed into Void’s embrace. When he arrived at the threshold of his final home, Domitius could sense something was wrong. For he remained suspended just above the Nothing Behind The World, hung from his chest by a painful and stubborn hook whose other end remained Anchored in existence. He found his soul had become like oil, whereas the Void was like water. He could not break apart into the swirling abyss no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much the Void lapped at his edges to erode him. In agony, he cried out unto Sithis: “Oh, Dread Father! I have come home to thee, but something holds me in place, has cursed me with everlasting form! I pray thee, wouldst thou cut me from it, so I may rest with my Family below?” Sithis, an ever-watchful parent, heard his child’s cry and drew near. He pulled a shape from the eternal nothing with which to greet Domitius: he stretched skin and sinew across many rattling bones, grew endlessly deep eyes, and split into a gaping snake maw. His voice was the sound of rushing wind through deep caverns, of floodwaters overwhelming a dam. “My child, why dost thou cry out so?” Sithis asked. But before Domitius could answer, Sithis could see what the problem was. Something Anchored his child, and would not let the Nothing consume the soul properly. He moved yet closer to examine, but then recoiled.  “Vile coagulant of Bal! Not yet dead, but no longer alive - trapped between! A Schemer plays such foul tricks on my children!” Sithis lamented. He could not yet cut Domitius free, for the tether repelled his Void. He reassured his poor child as best as he could. “Though thou art afflicted with stagnation, thou remain my son, and I carry love for thee. Thou must go forth again, but as Undead. When thy befouled Anchor rusts and weakens once more, I shall sunder thy soul properly. But rest assured, child; no Daedra can keep thee from my grasp for long. Thou shalt find no restless eternity in Coldharbour so long as thou honors my name.” Domitius became invigorated in spite of such sad news. “Then I go with thy blessing, Dread Father. I will take this affliction and turn it to a Dark Gift instead, with which I shall spill blood for thee. I will only share this Dark Gift with those who are worthy. I vow to return one day.” Sithis was proud. He lifted Domitius with many hands and placed him back into the world. And Domitius did as he said he would do: with the Dark Gift, he worshiped and taught for centuries longer; and he only bestowed the same Gift to Siblings who understood the responsible use of such a tool. To possess the Dark Gift was not a gift to oneself, but a gift to Family still living. It was a selfless postponement of one's final rest to instead remain committed in unholy service.  The time came for Domitius to return home a second time. He bade his Listener to plunge Blade of Woe into his chest. When Domitius fell into the Void again, Sithis did as he said he would do: he broke apart the Anchor's chain, then lovingly dismantled his child’s soul, allowing it to dissolve freely into Nothing with him. And so, as it is said - vampires and other such anomalies have been bestowed a serious responsibility. One must use their Dark Gift wisely and in service to Sithis. Do not let temptation for permanence cause you to falter, for you must never forget where your true home lay.

[how-serene]

Won't You Say That You Love Me?

Pairing - Johnson (Reprisal) x Fem!Reader

Summary - Why did you have to love another?

Word Count - 1k+

Warnings - not proofread, angst, nsfw, oral (fem receiving), mention of female anatomy, fem pronouns used, infidelity, reader is engaged, no use of y/n, first smut (still learning), mentions of guilt, reader prays for a second??, obviously I don't condone cheating

A/N - Inspired by 'This Thing Called Loved' by Stephen Sanchez.

Love was a funny thing, wasn’t it? 

It was something that could mend and break, over and over again. Yet somehow, it always found a way to repair itself. 

You wondered, looking up at Johnson, if love was strong enough to rebuild the damage you caused. If love was truly enough to save someone. 

“We can’t do this anymore, Johnson.” You whispered, flushing from his touch. His lips caressed the edge of your jaw, peppering kisses down to your neck. He could feel the spike of your heartbeat, as you drew in a shuddered breath.   

“Tell me you don’t want this.” He said, nudging his nose against yours. “And I’ll leave.” 

Your fingers hooked around his dark blazer, subconsciously bringing him closer. His mouth burned against your skin, leaving behind seared memories you wouldn’t be able to scrub off. 

“God, please don’t.” You pleaded, latching your lips onto his. The outside world melted away, as you heard him groan into the kiss. He cradled your jaw in hands, pushing toward you despite the height difference. Soft strands of your hair wrapped around his fingers like vines, as if trying to hold onto him. He smelled like sweet hairspray, comfort and familiarity coiled in your stomach. It almost made you cry. You could taste your cherry chapstick on his lips, but something else too beyond the sweetness. It coated his tongue. Nicotine. 

“My fiancé-

Your words were cut off, as he harshly nipped at your bottom lip. The yelp that escaped you was swallowed back as Johnson’s tongue swiped over yours. His kiss was bruising, as if trying to leave behind an imprint. Your head felt fuzzy, as his hot mouth suddenly left yours. Sheer chapstick coated the outer edges of his swollen lips. Your chest swelled with ego, knowing the taste of you would linger for the rest of the night. 

“Don’t mention him.” He said, hand trailing down your thigh. You watched, in fascination, as he slowly fell to his knees before you. 

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” He muttered, before pushing your dress up. The fabric bunched at your hips, showcasing a set of black laced panties. Johnson carefully hooked his fingers under the waistband and tugged them down, the material scratched against your skin as they fell to your ankles. You pressed your hands flat against the wall, shame pooling in your stomach as you glanced away. 

“Look at me.” Johnson demanded, his quiet tone sending shivers down your spine. You caved, as your eyes met his. They sparkled up at you, solely trained on your face. The sight nearly made you fall to your own knees. Never did your fiancé gaze up at you like this, like a man kneeling before his god, to pray and worship. His hands on your skin felt like some sick form of salvation, one you weren’t aware you needed. 

‘God, forgive me.’ You prayed. ‘Of all that I’ve done wrong, please forgive me for loving another.’ 

Then you felt him against you, as he slid the flat of his tongue over your slit. You squirmed, sighing from the sensation. His hands gripped onto the fat of your thighs, pulling your heat flush against his mouth. 

“Fuck.” You whimpered, entangling your fingers in-between his soft curls. He parted your folds, his hot tongue lapping against you like a starved man. A whine bubbled in the back of your throat, as incoherent pleas fell from your mouth. You felt selfish, enjoying the sight of his worship. God, did your fiancé know what he was doing to you? He was just downstairs, waiting patiently at the bar for your return. 

Johnson moaned, arousal blooming in his stomach. He hooked your leg over his shoulder suddenly, allowing for better access. He sucked at your clit, with greed and fervor. You felt your stomach tighten, eyes rolling back from the sensation. 

“Please, please…” You uttered, the mantra falling from your lips. 

The anticipation built, along with the shame and desire for another life. A life away from the ‘wifely’ duties that your mother ingrained into your head as a young girl. A life where it was Johnson, kneeling like this, proving his devotion. 

Tears stung the corner of your eyes, as you felt heat build up in your core. It wasn’t fucking fair, for life to do this to you. To provide you a man that felt so sweet against you, yet felt so far from your grasp all at once. 

“Oh, god.” You threw your head back, pressing him into you. “Johnson, I’m-

The orgasm washes over you, pulling you under its steady hold. You stumble forward, hands gripping onto Johnson’s hair as you ride it out. You hear him moan against you, as his nails imbed themselves into your skin. Stars danced in your vision, temporarily blinding you. 

A sob worked its way up your chest, as tears pooled in your eyes, before falling down your cheeks. Johnson pulled your underwear back up, securing them around your hips before fixing your dress. Through your blurry vision, you pulled him down by his collar til he lips met yours. The kiss was disgustingly desperate. It was sloppy, and careless, as the taste of you on his tongue mixed with your salty bitter tears. His hands trembled as they wrapped around you. 

“I wish it was you.” You whispered, embarrassed by your words. Your bottom lip quivered, something else wading on your tongue. A confession you knew there was no coming back from if it escaped you. So you left it, to sit and rot inside you. 

“Don’t cry, doll.” He cooed, brushing away your tears. You burrowed into his chest, a cry leaving your throat. His hands held onto you, not ready for you to pull away. Like always. 

You sobbed into his neck. “God, I wish it was you.” 

“I love you.” He said, voice cracking. You couldn’t say it back, despite the urge to do so being right there. 

You realized, with a heavy heart, that love was not enough to save someone in the end. 

At least, not you. 

What more could I do If love means what I feel for you? Won't you say that you love me? For, in your eyes, I know this to be true

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Ror fam with their now adult child that's about to get married, but on the day of the wedding their spouse to be ends up getting cold feet and runs away. Poor kid is going to be utterly heartbroken......

What lovely angst this is~ I couldn’t stop thinking about it when my insomnia wouldn’t let me sleep last night. Picture below of the wedding dress for this HC.

-It was a day your family had been dreading for a long time coming, your wedding day.

-You were their precious little princess, having adopted you when you were only a child, raising you with so much love and care and you returned it, they never wanted to lose you.

-When you first started going out with your boyfriend, there were many who were against it, as they saw him as taking you away from them, while others were a bit more lenient, making a promise to themselves if he hurt you, he would die.

-Those who opposed your relationship became more anguished when you announced your engagement to one another, upset that they didn’t do more to keep you from leaving them.

-They didn’t want to hurt you, they never wanted to hurt you, many silent prayed for your stupid fiancé to do something that would make you leave him.

-However, as your family, until you made that decision on your own, they were going to support you with this venture.

-Your wedding was going to be on the beach, at a beautiful resort, in a giant room with floor to ceiling French doors that led to a balcony overlooking the ocean.

-Your dress was beautiful, flowing and light chiffon, you looked like a fairy. Eve, despite not wanting to lose you, was gushing in your room where she was helping you get dressed, while your bridesmaids were in the next room over.

-Your bridesmaids were Goll, who had ugly cried when you asked her, and your fiancé’s sister, while your maid of honor was your best friend, F/N.

-You felt nervous as the ceremony drew closer and you were waiting for Jack to come and get you, as he had won rock paper scissors months ago against all of you other father and brotherly figures of your massive family, but as you sat in your room, you grew concerned when he was over a half hour later.

-You grabbed your bouquet, sunflowers and red roses and headed down to the venue, but you grew concerned, your eyebrows furrowing as you heard loud shouting.

-The room froze when you entered, your family’s eyes all went wide, seeing you in your wedding gown, you looked like an angel.

-The room was divided, your massive family and friends, other gods and warriors from Valhalla, on one side and your fiancé’s on the other, but your fiancé and F/N were both missing, confusing you, “What’s going on?”

-His mother glared at Brunnhilde, who had been shouting with her, and the valkyrie turned, “Y/N, it seems that F/N and that bastard of a fiancé of yours have been having an affair for over three years now.”

-You froze, eyes going wide as your bouquet slipped from your hands, “What?”

-His family was just as furious, his mother turning on you, “He was supposed to get married to you first, then divorce you and take all your money, then he and F/N were going to get married and live comfortably along with us. Those two would be taken care of since you’re such a cash cow with your loaded family. But that idiot son of mine decided to run off with F/N before he could marry you!”

-The tears easily came but didn’t fall as you processed this, F/N and B/N had been seeing each other behind your back for years now, and his family knew about, keeping it from you, as they liked her more than they liked you.

-They were only going to use you for your money, which you had a ton of yourself that you earned on your own, not even counting your family around you.

-Your throat clenched as you tried to not cry, “You knew about this? You let him lead me on for years just for my money?!” their cold eyes, showing no remorse, broke your fragile little heart.

-She went to yell at you for disrespecting her, but Brunnhilde spoke, her voice and eyes like ice, “If you yell at my Y/N, I will not hesitate to remove your head from your shoulders, bitch.” His mother instantly shut up, feeling the wave of fear wash over her.

-Goll and Eve were quick to come over to you, as your eyes went dim, breaking mentally and emotionally as his family were all furious, demanding to be compensated for wasting their time with this wedding as their plan had fell through and were left with nothing.

-Zeus was the one to speak next, mocking them, “Ho-ho~ you want us to compensate you when it was your child who ruined your plans. That seems like a you problem. Go to him if you want your precious money back.”

-This caused more arguing, back and forth before his sister spoke like this situation was no big deal, “Just get over it Y/N, you’ll forgive him like you always do when he comes crawling back like he always does.”

-You were in tears, having slid to your knees, Eve kneeling beside you, your head in her chest as you couldn’t comprehend, “He-he lied…they all lied…”

-You family was furious, seeing you in such a state as Hercules spoke, glaring down at his sister, “Liars will only make more liars.”

-His father went to say something, but Odin spoke first, the air growing cold as he slowly let his aura out and soon a dark aura was surrounding everyone in your family, “You mortals have seem to have forgotten that we are gods. Gods that you have disrespected and insulted with your words and actions. You have insulted our child.”

-His family were very quick to sober up, as they knew that with you married into their family, the gods and warriors wouldn’t do much, they had no such connection now, and now realized that their actions have made several of the strongest gods and warriors in history very, very mad.

-His mother was quick to scream out your name, begging you to stop them, but Eve spoke, her eyes cold, “Why would she help someone who has lied to her for years and backstabbed her on her wedding day?”

-His family were very quick to change their tune, trying to kiss ass and beg for their forgiveness, other bold ones trying to go after you, to make them stop.

-The door behind you burst open and attention turned to the door; your teary eyes went wide, seeing F/N and B/N struggling in the arms of Thrud and Raiden, who you hadn’t realized was missing until you saw the two of them.

-Raiden’s eyes hardened, seeing you there and in tears, while Thrud’s eyes softened, seeing you upset before they threw the offenders down in between the two families before Thrud kneeled next to you and Goll, as you were both crying.

-His family was quick to start shouting at him and F/N, for ruining the plan they had all been working on for years, now because of it, they were going to lose out on all of the money that they had been planning on living on to live plush and cushy lifestyles.

-F/N and B/N were quick to turn to you, seeing that you were there, you would help them, right?

-Raiden swept you up into his arms, holding you with one arm, keeping you away from them as they tried to go for you, trying to tell you that this was just a bit elaborate joke, a big prank for the wedding.

-His family was quick to join in, trying to laugh it off, but Nikola spoke, “May I have everyone’s attention!” everyone looked at him as he pulled out a remote, a projector playing, showing pictures of the two of them over the years they had been going behind my back, “Here they are at your twenty third birthday part Y/N, this selfie was taken behind Buddha’s tree.”

-The pictures were damning, showing that this wasn’t an elaborate prank, they had been sneaking around, even while you were in the same area, like they got a thrill off trying not to get caught while being so close.

-You had touched Raiden’s chest gently during the pictures and he sat you down, but kept his hand on your shoulder, while you watched the pictures showing their affair, even up to this morning, F/N in her bridesmaid dress.

-They were shouting, trying to claim that those pictures were private, trying to save their lie before all attention turned to you.

-B/N tried to approach, but a growl from Lu Bu halted him in his tracks as he struggled to speak, “Y/N, I-I didn’t…” his voice trailed off as your eyes, usually so gentle and full of life, were dull and broken, saying nothing.

-He begged you to say something and F/N was begging you to forgive her and the froze as a tear slipped down your cheek, one that seemed to infuriate your family even more.

-After a moment you finally spoke, “What? You two expect me to just say I forgive you, and we forget this whole thing happened? You both used me! You all used me-lied to me! Why should you be given forgiveness?” your voice started weak but grew in anger as you called his whole family out as liars, but then it broke as more tears fell.

-Eve cupped your cheeks gently as you broke down, shoulders shaking, trying to wipe your tears away, “Oh Y/N, shh don’t cry. You don’t have to explain anything to them.”

-Adam then spoke, his voice seemed to chill everyone, even those of your family, “Eve, take Y/N back to her room.” Eve nodded and Goll and Thrud went with you.

-You ignored the screams and demands of your ex-fiancé and ex- best friend and his family as the door closed behind them.

-You couldn’t hear any screams, because Odin and Beelzebub put up wards that blocked off all sound in the room and blocked the windows, so none could see in.

-It was hours later before you calmed down, Eve, Goll, and Thrud helping you wash your face of your pretty make up, brushed out you hair, and helped you out of your wedding dress.

-You loved your dress, even if you weren’t getting married, treating it carefully, holding it in your lap, feeling the soft material beneath your fingers.

-Eve, seeing your love for the dress, spoke gently to you, “We can dye it, if you want to? It is a pretty dress and would make a lovely summer dress if you changed the color.” She saw just a bit of light appear in your dull eyes, as you liked that idea.

-Thrud had left, just for a bit, returning with food and water for you, as you had been crying so much, the three of them gently encouraging you to eat while the rest of your family had to clean up the venue hall after making a mess, which wasn’t hard to do with a bit of magic.

-As your family and friends from Valhalla had rented out the resort for the wedding, as well as the rooms, which meant that his family was in another hotel nearby, they didn’t want to give up this lovely beach resort vacation, even if it was only for a few days.

-You were quiet and despondent from everyone, allowing yourself to be pulled by Goll who held your hand, trying to make you feel better by getting you ice cream or taking you down to the beach.

-Your family hated seeing you like this, the guilt inside them gnawed at them, as they felt at fault for not noticing this sooner, they could have saved you from heartache if they had paid more attention to your scumbag of an ex and friend.

-When you had looked around, worried that he and his family was still around, Loki, who had stolen you away from Goll, walking with you down the beach, told you that they had made them all leave and to never contact you again.

-You didn’t question him, accepting his words as the truth, as you knew they wouldn’t lie to you, not like this, they would lie to you in the way of that they would deny knowing who ate your ice cream that you had been saving.

-Adam held you when you couldn’t sleep, much how he used to when you were still a child, soothing you to sleep, he hated seeing you crying, they all did, each having spent time trying to calm you down during this mini vacation.

-You whispered up to him, reminding him of when you were little, speaking like a scared child, “Did-did I do something wrong…to-to make them do this to me?” your voice was so soft and meek, it made his blood boil that you had been hurt so badly.

-He squeezed you, hugging you to him, he heard your soft sigh of content, warm and safe in his embrace, “No Y/N, you weren’t the one who did anything wrong. You were perfect. They were the ones who were wrong, they hurt you, and nobody is allowed to hurt you.”

-You smiled softly before you started to doze off, which he saw and he held you until you were asleep, stroking your hair gently.

-Nobody would ever hurt you again.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Blessed

Characters: Violet Bridgerton, Edmund Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton Rated: G - depiction of complicated childbirth Word count: 1.8k Summary: The birth of Benedict Bridgerton.

Violet’s second turn in the birthing room at Aubrey Hall was proving a far sight easier than her first. Finding herself back in the rose-colored room with its heavy drapes and imposing bed reminded her of the pains and anxieties of Anthony’s entrance into the world. But her worries were proving unfounded as her labor progressed quickly. Only two hours since the onset, the child had nearly arrived. Even the summer weather was comparatively cheerful, sunshine streaming through the windows and ready to greet the newest Bridgerton who was clearly eager to see it. Violet almost wanted to thank the child for being such an easy delivery. With a final push she felt the pressure give way and leaned into Edmund who sat at her bedside, smiling as she gasped.

Her husband wrapped his arms around her, kissing her damp forehead. “You’ve done it, dearest. My Violet, how I love you.”

She glowed with pride, losing herself in his tearful eyes, knowing that she wanted to bear every child he wanted to give her. These moments, coupled with the joys of raising children, filled her heart beyond measure. She could have floated there for an eternity were it not for the instinctive concern that drew her attention to the foot of the bed. Something was wrong. Everything was entirely too quiet.

A clutch of nurses had gathered around the surgeon, all of them focused intensely and working in a flurry as the cord was severed and the baby was whisked away to the far end of the room. The only glimpse she had seen was a bundle of purple limbs. She sat upright, senses on high alert as her gauzy relief melted away. 

“Your Lordship,” the surgeon called over his shoulder.

Edmund tensed, his face reverting into the Viscount’s mask of resolve. He kissed Violet’s hand then marched to join the throng around the newborn.

Violet was panic stricken, her mind racing with a thousand terrible questions and even more terrible imagined answers. “Edmund?” she croaked. “What…what is it?”

The surgeon’s arms were moving briskly, nurses were scurrying back and forth to his side but they all stood with their backs to her, blocking her view. Edmund stood with them, eyes locked on the sight before him, hands gripping the table where their child lay.

“It’s a boy, my love.” He called back, but his voice wavered. “One moment.”

Under any other circumstances Violet would have been overcome with happiness that she had borne a second son, another Bridgerton to support his elder brother and perpetuate the family name. But those thoughts were the furthest thing from her mind. All she wanted was to hold him. To know why he had been spirited away from her. If she had been able to stand she would have been on her feet and fighting her way to him. But her body was too exhausted, her delivery not yet complete, and there were nurses doing their best to clean and calm her. She swatted them away.

“Why isn’t he crying? Edmund…” She whimpered, feeling ignored. Helpless. Was she a fool to believe that she could have such an easy birth? That there would be no complications on the journey to grow her family? Was this fate dealing a humbling blow to counteract the bliss that she had experienced thus far as a mother? As she stared at the bent backs of everyone who was watching her son before she had even met him, her despair gave way to anger. Whatever state he was in, he was her own. 

“Let me see my child!” She roared. All heads snapped to look at her. In the tense silence Edmund met her gaze, reading everything she felt. Then he nodded and reached over to the nurses who were swaddling the babe. Turning, he now held the small bundle in his arms and began to walk slowly back to the bed.

Still Violet could not see her son and a wave of dread washed over her. Holding her breath she prayed silently, offering up every plea and vow she could piece together while the fragility of the image robbed her of words. 

She managed to whisper. “Is…is he?”

“He’s alive.” Edmund gave her a reassuring smile. “The cord was around his neck but he is alright now. He is resting.”

Suddenly aware again of how brightly the sunshine filled the room, Violet reached out and Edmund eased the bundle into her waiting arms. Just having the weight of him back against her body caused a flood of relief and her fears continued to ebb as she studied him. A perfect little face, cherubic cheeks, long lashes and a shock of dark hair. He breathed in precious little sighs as his color grew warmer but his eyes remained curiously closed. So unlike his brother’s birth, he had yet to make a single noise.

Edmund returned to his place at Violet’s side, wracked with anxiety but knowing better than to show it. He would never forget the horror of those moments waiting for his child to breathe and decided the recollection was one thing he would not willingly share with his wife. Now even though their son was alive, the surgeon had commented on how unusual it was that he remained still and silent as if sleeping. As he watched Violet cradle the boy, he summoned all of his hope, trying to assure himself that all would be well.

“Oh, my sweet,” Violet cooed, dropping soft kisses on his forehead and tiny nose. “Open your eyes.” She traced a gentle finger over the curve of his plump cheek, stirring him to wakefulness, calling him into the world. Instantly the boy’s brow lifted and his eyes blinked open, impossibly blue and full of light as they gazed at his mother. A smile broke across her face and Edmund exhaled loudly behind her. “There you are!” She rejoiced.

The blue eyes moved to Edmund and were followed by a crooked, gummy smile as the babe squirmed and seemed to delight in his presence.

Violet gasped and reached for her husband’s hand. “Edmund, he has your likeness.” Indeed, the Viscount felt the odd sensation that he was looking at a younger version of himself. He saw something of his eyes and something of his jaw even in a face so round and new. Their shared widows peak was already evident too. Anthony was proving to be a blend of all his and Violet’s most noble features, but this boy was an echo of himself for the next generation. His heart swelled.

As both parents wiped away their happy tears and Violet rocked the child in her arms, they called for their firstborn. He had been kept down the hall with a nursemaid and now came charging into the room.

“Mama!”

Edmund scooped the boy into his arms and climbed onto the bed beside Violet.

“Anthony, this is your new brother.”

The toddler perched in his father’s lap, studying the small bundle scrupulously. The baby’s eyes met his, undaunted as the lopsided grin persisted. 

“He’s small,” Anthony announced.

Violet smiled. “Yes, he is dearest. You were this small when you were born too. He will grow, the same as you.”

“What his name?” That he lifted a brow with an air of genteel curiosity was entirely within character. Even at the tender age of two, Anthony often carried himself as any proper gentleman would, proving adept at learning the various forms of address for members of society. A true viscount in the making.

“Well, we must decide upon that.” Violet looked to Edmund. Anthony had been one among a number of names they considered for their first son. A family name but also the one that proved most appropriate when they first beheld him. For the rest of their children they had only agreed upon a naming scheme rather than names themselves. Alphabetical would be most orderly for a large family.

Edmund put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You know your alphabet, yes?”

The boy nodded proudly, chestnut hair bouncing.

“A is for…?”

“Anthony!” He chirped gleefully.

The Viscount grinned. “Excellent. And what comes after A?”

“B!” He exclaimed, then turned to the newborn with a look of wondrous realization. “Baby…” he whispered, brushing a chubby finger across his brother’s chubby cheek just as his mother had. The younger continued to squirm happily, gazing up at his sibling with a curious little smile on his face, all huge eyes and observation. 

Violet’s heart fluttered at the sight. Her two children together, a sense of connection and love already so evident between them. If she had thought herself fulfilled by raising her first son, she was knocked breathless by the experience now being doubled. What name could she give her second born? One noble and deserving of the respect, but reflective of how precious his life had already proven to be. There were many options but once again, just as it had before, a voice within her quickly whispered the choice. Blessed. He was blessed to have pulled through the complications of his birth; each of them gathered in the bed were blessed to have him join their family; and if the light in his fathomless eyes portended a fraction of what she felt it did, Violet knew that he would be blessed with a beautiful life ahead.

“What about Benedict?”

Anthony looked at her quizzically then surveyed his brother again. At last he gave a large nod, stating affirmatively, “Ben-dic.” A seal of approval.

Edmund chuckled, shifting the boy to face him. “Now Anthony, as a big brother you must look after Benedict. Make sure he is safe, help him to learn, stay by his side. In return he will always be your friend and will help you too. Brothers are very important.” The Viscount had no doubt that his eldest son would prove a steadfast protector and provider for all of his siblings, but he wanted to ensure the boy felt driven to do so out of love as much as duty.

Anthony listened intently, always receptive to his father’s lessons. After being charged with his new responsibility he began to twist his fingers, looking uncertain.

“We share toys?” He asked nervously.

Both parents burst into laughter which did not help to assure their son.

“Yes, you will need to share.” Violet confirmed. This prompted Anthony to clench his jaw and furrow his brow, shooting a dark and envious look at his brother who only moments before had held his favor. Benedict looked directly back at him, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he let out a squeaking burble of glee.

All eyes darted to him and Anthony’s jaw fell open in shock. “Mama, he laughed!”

Then they all laughed together, arms around one another, parents showering their sons with kisses and praise. A growing family, one member stronger, blessed with happiness.

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @colettebronte