#if anyone is wondering why i have so many gowns

[relicsongmel]

I’ve come to realize I am simply incapable of organizing my closet without getting Distracted By Pretty Things™

[parkerslatte]

Beauty

For @erisweekofficial Day 6: AU

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader (Regency AU)

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: sexism. mentions of illness.

Summary: Throughout their whole childhood, Y/N and Eris grew up with one another, always seeing one another from across the park that separated their houses. However as time goes on, Eris begins to distance himself and Y/N cannot work out why. After an unfortunate incident at a ball, Eris goes to check on Y/N and some truths come to light.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Nineteen Years Ago

Two eight year olds lay in a shadowed part of a garden, their parents involved in boring adult chatter inside the house. The sun was beginning to set and while the children should be getting ready for a bath and bed, they were giggling happily, clothes stained with mun and pond water. 

“You liar!” Little eight year old Y/N exclaimed. 

“I’m not lying!” Eris Vanserra replied, nudging Y/N’s arm. 

“Yes you are!” Y/N said, crossing her arms over her chest. “And for that I’m telling your mother. My mother told me to never lie.”

“But I’m not lying, Y/N,” Eris pleaded. 

Y/N giggled. “But you said you wanted to marry me?”

“I do,” Eris said. “You are my best friend.”

“Do people marry their best friend?” Y/N asked.

Eris shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“If that is how it works then I will marry you,” Y/N said with a wide smile on her face, one of her front teeth missing. “People will be jealous because we will have the most fun at our wedding.”

Eris smiled. “It will be better than anyone elses. My dogs can be a part of it!”

Y/N gasped. “I wish we could get married now and make everyone jealous! It will be so much fun.”

Rain began to fall down upon the pair and Y/N giggled as the cold water hit her face. Eris stood to his feet and looked in the direction of the house. 

“I think our parents forgot about us,” Eris said. 

“Should we go and tell them about our wedding?” Y/N asked. “Or do you want to play out here more?”

Eris smiled and quickly nudged Y/N and ran away, laughing loudly. Y/N giggled and stood from the wet grass and chased after him, rain falling down around her. 

Present Day. 

The mirror before her presented an image she was used to. A plain girl with all hope and wonder gone from her eyes. At twenty seven years, Y/N is what many others would consider a spinster. She was not married, nor did she have any prospects. Being a spinster wasn’t what Y/N originally wanted for herself, she would always dream of her very own romance story from a very young age. A whole stack of paper was buried deep within her wardrobe detailing her dream life and wedding day. Y/N couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. 

“Are you ready to go?” her mother asked, coming into the room. 

Y/N let out a small sigh. “Do I really need to go to this ball? I already know it is going to turn out like any other.”

Her mother fiddled with the ends of her hair already falling out of its updo. “Y/N, we have spoken about this. You need to find a husband soon–”

“Mother, the men at these balls are not any different from the men last season. I know I am not on anyone’s mind in terms of marriage. I am ancient in their eyes,” said Y/N, straightening out her gown. 

“Perhaps this time will be different,” her mother suggested.

“We both know it won’t be,” Y/N said sadly. “You should just marry me off to Lord Ashington. I overheard him talking about me at the last ball.”

“Lord Ashington is ancient,” her mother said. “Y/N, I know I push you to marry but I don’t wish for you to end up in a marriage you are unhappy in. I want you to have a whirlwind romance I had with your father.”

“As much as I wanted that too mother, I think it is now time to look at the reality of my situation,” Y/N said. “I am no longer desirable in any man’s eye as I am not new and fresh to the marriage mart. I must settle for the first man with money to look my way. Lord Ashington is the route to go if I want to secure money to provide for you.”

Y/N fought the sting of tears, she turned her face away from her mother so she wouldn’t see but her attempts were futile. 

“Oh, my baby,” her mother said, wrapping her arms around Y/N. “This isn’t the life I wished for you.”

Y/N continued to cry against her mothers shoulder. If only Y/N could stay home then everything would be better. 

“I have a gift for you,” her mother said as she wiped Y/N’s tears away. “It was meant to be for your birthday but I can give it to you now.”

Her mother disappeared from the room for a minute before returning with a dress draped in white fabric. The moment the dress was unveiled, Y/N gasped at its sheer beauty. 

“I have been putting aside money to get it made for you,” her mother said. “I hope you like it.”

Y/N gently touched the fabric. “I love it.”

“If you wish to wear it tonight, I suppose I will allow it,” her mother said. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around her mother. “Thank you.”

***

By the time Y/N made it to the drinks table, her feet were aching and she was read to sleep, but even that couldn’t keep the smile from her face. The moment she had stepped into the ballroom, she had gathered more attention than she had in years. Y/N was sure she hadn’t danced this much since her first year in society. She forgot how much she enjoyed it. 

“I see you have made a few heads turn tonight,” a voice Y/N never thought she would hear again spoke. 

As she turned to face the source of the voice, Y/N felt a tightness in her chest. “What do you want?”

“A dance,” Eris answered. “With you.”

Y/N fought the urge to scoff. It had been years since she had exchanged words with Eris, and even longer since they had had a full conversation. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed the silky smooth tone of his voice. 

“My dance card is full,” Y/N answered. 

“I can see one space available,” Eris pointed out. “Y/N, please. Just one dance.”

Y/N sighed. “What do you want, Eris?”

“I am only asking for a dance,” Eris answered.

“No. What I meant was, why are you speaking to me? You’re the one who has gone out of your way to avoid me.”

Before Eris had the chance to even open his mouth, a handsome gentleman offered Y/N his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Y/N sent one final look towards Eris before placing her hand in the man’s. “You may.”

As Y/N made her way into the centre of the ballroom, she watched as Eris’s grip on his glass tightened and he looked away. Y/N turned her attention back to the man in front of her and plastered a bright smile on her face. Although for the whole duration of the dance, she couldn’t get the image of Eris out of her mind. 

***

“Y/N, it seems like you haven’t had a moment to yourself all night,” Iris, a woman a few years younger than Y/N, said. “All that dancing with so many suitors must have tired you out?”

Y/N nodded. “I suppose it did. I am quite sure I haven’t danced this much in years.”

“I wonder why,” another woman, Evangeline, said thoughtfully and shared a look with Iris. 

“Tonight you seemed to catch the eye of every single available suitor here,” Iris continued. “You could have left some for the rest of us.”

Y/N chuckled, although she was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable. “I have seen all of you on the dance floor. All of you are no shot of suitors yourself.”

“But none of us have caught the eye of Eris Vanserra,” Evangeline commented. “And you turned him down.”

Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t turn him down–”

“But I overheard you,” Evangeline siad, a wicked smirk appearing on her face. “He was so eager to dance and you turned him down only to run into the arms of the next man who spoke to you.”

“Eris and I have a…complicated past, I didn’t want to bring up past memories that are best left forgotten,” Y/N explained. 

Evangeline took a sip from her drink. “It must have been your dress.”

“My dress?” Y/N asked, confusion evident on her face. 

“I mean, how else would you capture Eris’s attention?” Evangeline said and Iris tried to hide her laugh. “Your hair is clearly not doing you any favours, it has already come away from its hairstyle. And you could have done something about those dark circles under your eyes.”

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked.

“I am just confused as to how a spinster has captured the attention of half of the ton. Your dress might be beautiful from far away but anyone with eyes can see how it is cheaply made,” Evangeline said. “Oh look, there is even a loose thread right here…”

Before Y/N could stop her, Evangeline pulled on the single loose thread and the lace decorating the edge of her bust fell away. Y/N gasped and dropped her drink, causing the class to shatter onto the floor. Everyone around the group looked her way. 

As Evangeline and Iris laughed, all Y/N could do was stand there. The burning from each and every eye on her was insufferable. Y/N held her hand to where the lace was falling away and fled the ballroom, quickly finding a small sitting room not too far away. The instruments from the ballroom were dull and barely audible as Y/N slumped down on the ornate settee and wiped the tears that had begun to fall. 

She wasn’t crying because of the embarrassment caused by Evangeline and Iris. Y/N was crying because of the runed dress. She hadn’t asked what her mother had paid for it and now it was ruined. Her mother rarely ever bought anything for herself for these past few months and now Y/N knew the reason why. Now that reason was ruined. 

The door to the sitting room opened and Y/N hastily stood up. 

“I am sorry for being in here, I can leave–Eris?” Eris stood in the doorway of the room, looking at Y/N with concern in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see if you are alright,” Eris said. “Clearly you are not.”

“It’s nothing,” Y/N said. “Something silly.”

Eris’s eyes softened. “I guarantee it is not silly to garner this reaction from you. I know the girl I grew up with would rarely cry at anything.”

“I suppose I have quite a lot to cry about these days,” Y/N said. “I am no longer the girl you once knew Eris. You would have known that if you cared for me anymore.”

“Of course I care,” Eris said, stepping further into the room. 

Y/N scoffed. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

Slowly, Eris closed the door behind him. Y/N’s eyes widened. 

“What are you doing? If I am seen alone with you, do you know how it will ruin me?” Y/N exclaimed.

“Then I will say that you were quite ill and I found you passed out in the hallway on my way out and found you somewhere to rest your head and then I will swiftly take my leave when I know that you are in safe hands,” Eris said. 

“Why did you follow me, Eris? We haven’t spoken in years,” Y/N said, completely defeated as she sat down on the settee.

“I know,” Eris said, sadness lacing his tone. “And that will be one of the biggest regrets of my life.” 

Y/N watched out of the corner of her eye and Eris walked over to her and sat next to her. The settee was small enough that Y/N could feel the heat of Eris through his jacket. If she had still been Seventeen and so desperately in love, she would have inched closer. Alas, she was no longer Seventeen and she had larger things on her mind than a simple touch that still sent her senses into overdrive. 

The two sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the ballroom muffled. The tears Y/N had shed were now dried up and she was sure her eyes were now bloodshot and pink. She fiddled with the lace in her hands, more of it had come away from the bodice and the more it came away the more her heart sank. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” Eris said quietly. “I haven’t told you that yet.”

“I am sure you mean ‘looked’,” Y/N said. “I don’t feel beautiful right now.”

“You are,” Eris said with such a tenderness in his tone that it caused Y/N’s heart to skip a beat. “You always are.”

Y/N finally met Eris’s gaze and she felt herself melting. His gaze always had the power to do that. “What is bringing this on?”

“Does there need to be a reason?” Eris said. 

“Yes, because you have avoided me for years. You cannot simply talk to me out of nowhere and call me beautiful when the last time I tried to speak to you, you walked away from me and left me alone in the middle of the ballroom,” Y/N said. 

Eris looked at his lap almost shamefully. “I regret that, Y/N. I truly do. I wanted– want– nothing more than to speak with you, dance around ballrooms with you, talk with you until the dead of night.”

“What changed?” Y/N dared to ask. “Everything was going well, Eris. Even my mother thought we would end up engaged before I made my debut.”

Eris sighed. “Do you remember when your father passed away?”

Y/N nodded. She remembered that day vividly. Her mother was distraught and could barely keep herself together. Y/N depended on the maids to help her with her studies and making sure that her mother was okay. When Eris learned of the news, he moved into Y/N’s house for nearly three months. His father never gave his permission but Eris would defy any order his father gave him to help Y/N. 

“Well after he passed, my father noticed your mother taking money from your dowry to pay the maids and staff. He only noticed this change as your mother came to him for help once as your father always did all the finances. Once he noticed the low sum in your dowry, he didn’t want me anywhere near you incase your mother thought of the idea to marry you off to me to claim money from the Vanserra’s,” Eris explained. 

Y/N shuffled away. “The reason you avoided me was all because I was a burden to you.”

“Not at all,” Eris said quickly, inching his hand closer to her. “Please let me finish.”

There was no deceit on his face, he seemed truthful. Slowly, Y/N nodded.

“When he told me to stay away, I told him to stay out of my business, although not as kind as that.”

Y/N couldn't help herself but let out a quiet laugh. A small smile appeared on Eris’s face. 

“Anyway, after that I continued to see you and came by your house almost every single day after that,” Eris said. “You were my best friend, someone who I love dearly. I could not simply stay away from you. It was torture.”

“Then why did you avoid me after that night you came to me?” Y/N said. 

Thinking back to the night of her seventeenth birthday, Y/N always looked back on it with fondness but as time went on it became more and more painful. Did she do something wrong? Was she not what Eris wanted? Was she undesirable?

“You knew how my life could have been ruined if anyone found out what we did, Eris,” Y/N said. “I allowed you to kiss me. I allowed you to take me to bed.”

“I know and I wish I could go back in time and propose to you right there and then,” Eris admitted. “I was ready to as well. My mother gave me her engagement ring.”

Her heart sank to her feet. “What?”

“That night I was going to propose to you, Y/N,” Eris said. “I didn’t care that you hadn’t made your debut yet. I didn’t care that my father was so obsessed with even more money. I didn’t care about any of that because all I could care about was how much I loved you.”

“Then why didn’t you propose?” Y/N asked. 

“The weekend of your birthday, my father was out of town on business and it was only my mother and brothers in the house. All of my brothers were all too young to really care about what I was doing and my mother was glad to be rid of my father for a while and she went to visit an old friend. But that night I brought you into my bed, my father came home early. Since it was just my mother and brothers, we didn’t close the door properly, he saw the both of us,” Eris said, his hand anxiously twitching in his lap. 

Y/N’s eyes widened. “He saw us? Why did you never tell me?”

Eris shrugged. “I couldn’t. He made me promise that if I didn’t propose to you and abandoned my entire friendship with you then he would keep what he saw to himself. If I didn’t then he would tell the ton and you and your mother would have been ruined.”

“I fought of course,” Eris said. “I said that if he released that information, I would marry you on the spot and tell everyone that we had been engaged since before your birthday. I would have needed to make up a date but the plan would have worked. But my father made another threat. If I followed through with that plan then he would cut me off. I would be penniless and kicked out onto the streets. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t drag you down with me.”

“Eris,” Y/N said. “Why did you never tell me any of this?” 

“I was afraid of my father finding out,” Eris said. “I never wanted you at the centre of any negative gossip.”

“We might have been only seventeen, Eris, but I would have happily lived on the streets with you than live the nightmare of trying to find a husband,” Y/N said.

“But I wouldn’t have wanted that life for you, Y/N,” Eris said. “I wanted to be able to provide for you and make sure you have all the luxuries you deserved.”’

Y/N gently placed her hand on top of Eris’s. “All I wanted was you. I didn’t care about wealth or social status, not when I was around you.”

Eris squeezed her hand. “I always knew you would say that. But I could not let that happen. When I imagined my life with you, I always imagined living in a large house in the countryside. I imagined being able to provide for you, treating you to extravagant dresses that I knew you would ruin when you gardened. I imagined children running around that would look exactly like you. They would grow up in a loving home, safe and secure.” 

Eris paused. “I still imagine all of that to this day. There are some days that I ponder the life I would be having right now if my father never saw us that night and I went through with my proposal. I think of the children we might have. I think of the home we would be living in. I think of how much happier I would be with you by my side.”

“You still think about us?” Y/N asked.

Eris nodded. “Constantly. Lately I have avoided going to balls because I know I would see you and my restraint lately is wearing quite thin.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Y/N asked. “If your father finds out that you are alone with me, won’t he follow through on his promise?”

“I am here alone tonight,” Eris said. “My mother has kept this gossip from spreading all around the ton, but my father is quite ill. Doctors say that he might not make it to the end of the season.”

There was no emotion on Eris’s face as he spoke. She couldn’t decipher how he felt about the matter. 

“And how do you…feel about this news?” Y/N asked carefully.

“Honestly?” Eris asked. Y/N nodded. “Honestly I feel relieved. I know I shouldn’t because he is my father but he has always felt like a stranger to me. Even when I was a child he never took any interest in me and the only time he did was to make sure I was fit to run the household in the future. Is that an awful thing to say?”

Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think so. I remember how your father was, he was never kind nor welcoming.”

Eris sighed. “I am sorry, Y/N. I came in here to comfort you and instead I have turned this whole ordeal about me.”

Y/N offered him a small smile. “Well, it was relevant information.”

Eris chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it was. Now, if you wish to be left alone, I perfectly understand and I shall leave you alone in peace.”

There was one question still swirling around Y/N’s head. One question she had wanted answered for many years. 

“Did you still love me?” Y/N asked. 

Eris looked confused for a moment. There was a long pause before he answered. 

“Of course I do,” Eris said. “Were you even listening to my confession that I still think of the life we would have had together?”

Y/N laughed and nudged Eris. “Of course I was. I wanted to hear you say it.”

“Do you wish to hear it again?” Eris asked. “Because I will happily comply.”

Y/N nodded and Eris stood from his seat and bent down on one knee. “Y/N L/N. I love you.”

“Eris, what are you doing?” Y/N asked. 

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Eris answered. “I know that we still have a lot to talk about. I know that there are still things to work through. But I love you Y/N and I cannot live without you in my life any longer. Tonight has been torture, watching other men dance with you and make you smile and laugh, I wished I was in their place. But unlike those men, I know how to make you really smile and laugh. I know your deepest fears and greatest ambitions. I know how you like your tea. I know how you got that small scar on your bicep. I know exactly how you like to be kissed.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks. 

“I know more about you than those suitors ever will. What I am asking you Y/N L/N, is if you will marry me?”

On the surface, Y/N knew she shouldn’t accept this proposal. For years, Y/N had been left believing that she wasn’t good enough for Eris, that she wasn’t good enough for anyone. But something deep within her only wanted him, she always had ever since she knew what love really was. Even in the times when Eris avoided her, she sometimes thought back to their friendship and stolen kisses. She thought about how much she missed him. 

“You don’t need to accept. I can leave this room and we can pretend like I never proposed,” Eris reassured.

Y/N wasn’t sure what to say but the words that came out of her mouth were not what she was expecting.

“Technically we are already engaged,” Y/N blurted out. 

“What?” Eris said, looking confused.

“You proposed to me when we were eight,” Y/N said. “We were going to have a wedding everyone would be jealous of.”

Eris’s eyes brighten in recognition. “I remember that. I was only a child but I didn’t even fully understand the concept of marriage. But I knew that I always wanted you to be with me.”

Y/N smiled. “I have a stack of paper hidden in my wardrobe detailing every part of the wedding I would have had with you.”

Eris laughed. “Perhaps we can put those plans to use after all.”

Something within Y/N knew that the next words to come out of her mouth were the right words and the words that would change her life for the better. 

“I think we need to rework some of the plans but overall, I think they could work,” Y/N answered.

A small look of uncertainty flashed across Eris’s face. “Are you accepting my proposal, Y/N?”

“Yes I am,” Y/N said. “I will marry you Eris. We still have things to discuss but we can do that another night. Tonight, let us celebrate.”

A long sigh of relief left Eris as the weight of the world seemed to be lifted. “I believe that is a good idea.”

Y/N stood to her feet while Eris remained kneeled before her. Y/N gently touched his chin, tilting his head. He was so beautiful. 

“I don’t have a ring,” he muttered. 

“You don’t need to worry about that now,” Y/N said. “I doubt you thought you would be proposing tonight.”

“No, I didn’t,” Eris replied. 

He slowly stood to his feet and Y/N now tilted her head to look at him. They stood nearly chest to chest and Y/N felt her breathing get heavier. 

“Here,” Eris said, pulling off his silver signet ring. “Wear this until I can get you your engagement ring.”

As Eris slipped it onto her finger, everything suddenly became real. Eris was really her fiance. She was an engaged woman. The man standing before her would soon be her husband. When she stood in front of her mirror earlier that evening, Y/N felt like she was scraping the bottom of the barrel, not she felt as if she were on the top of the world. It was a feeling she could get used to. 

The ring on her finger was slightly loose but it still felt right. Y/N looked up at Eris who was looking down at her with so much love in his eyes. Y/N couldn’t help but lean forward to rest her forehead on his. 

“I love you, Y/N,” Eris whispered, his breath fanning her face. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly, breathing in his familiar scent. It immediately put her at ease. 

“Shall we announce to everyone that we are engaged?” Eris asked. 

“Would we be able to stay here just a moment longer?” Y/N asked. “As much as I would love to wipe the smirks from Evangeline and Iris’s faces, I still haven’t processed everything properly.”

Eris nodded and leaned forward. Y/N was expecting his lips to fall upon her own, when they didn’t she found herself to be quite disappointed. Although his lips were soon pressed against her cheek. 

“We can stay here for as long as you like,” Eris replied. 

Y/N smiled and held out her hand. The music from the ballroom was dull and faint but it was still audible. “Then how about a dance with your future wife.”

Eris smirked and took her hand in his. “I like the sound of that.”

As Eris danced with her in the sitting room, Y/N smiled and laughed genuinely for what felt like the first time in a long time. She let go and had fun. The weight that she had been pulling around with her for years had finally been lifted. 

Despite her and Eris still needing to work things out, she finally relaxed in his arms and allowed herself to feel that childlike glee she had when her and Eris would dance around the day room when they were younger. The steps were messy yet everything was more than perfect. 

“Future husband,” Y/N mused. “I quite like the sound of that.”

When Eris quickly pecked her lips, Y/N was not able to process it until he was pulling away and heading to the door. 

“Let us go so I can tell the world that you are to be my wife,” Eris said impatiently. 

Y/N smiled and allowed him to take her hand in his. When she followed him to the ballroom, everything else became a blur as she was swept up in a dance with Eris. Despite the lace hanging off her dress and the redness around her eyes. She had never felt so beautiful before. Not because of the man spinning her around the ballroom floor but because of the way the man made her feel. He made her feel like herself again. She made her feel whole. 

“Future husband,” Y/N muttered.

“Future wife,” Eris replied as the dance came to an end. 

There was no one else in the room as Eris took a step forward and pulled Y/N into a kiss. Gasps echoed around them but Y/N didn’t care about being proper. She didn’t care that this gossip would spread around the ton. After all, they were already engaged, there wasn’t much that could run either of them now. 

As Eris pulled away he uttered three simple words against her lips.

“You are beautiful.”

For the first time in a long time Y/N truly felt it. 

[phoenixblaze1412]

Heyyy can i request dottore with a female reader who loves dottores scent? like she sniffs him whenever they hug and loves stealing his sweaty clothes. Btw how do you think dottores body odour smell like?

(tbh i feel like im some crazy freak for thinking abt dottores smell all the time :0)

You're not a crazy freak love, i like the ideas so keep them coming^^

If we're talking about body odor, Dottore would have this very entrancing scent. Like, musky and minty at the same time. Let's say it's like an invictus perfume kind of scent, that would gain the attention of anyone who either isn't afraid of him or doesn't know who he is.

He would always make sure he would at least smell decent whenever he's inside or outside of work. He didn't know it would attract attention from others, in a good way.

But it's hard to be able to smell his scent when he's always in his work clothes.

Whenever Dottore's in the lab, he would have a different scent. A mix of coffee, chemicals and antiseptic.

If you're not used to Dottore in his line of work, this could be a very frightening thing to inhale. It's like walking inside an eerie hospital and you're just about to face your death, the doctor himself.

But, being Dottore's lover, this scent brings you comfort.

Here's a little fun fact that only you know and Dottore doesn't. The only way you can differentiate your Dottore from his older segments is just based on his body odor. Just hug them, sneakily inhale their scent and boom, segment or Dottore.

Now, Dottore and his segments would always wonder why you would greet them by hugging them. They just don't know that you're identifying who is who by inhaling their body scent.

Now, clothes.

Dottore would always catch you sneaking into the laundry basket and sniffing his clothes. He has tried many times to stop you from doing so. Who knows what chemical spills or filthy blood could go right up your olfactory nerves. And no matter how many times he tries to stop you, you always manage to do the opposite and keep doing it.

That's why he decided to have a spare laundry basket in his laboratory, only for his stained clothes and lab gowns. He doesn't want you to inhale more chemicals that got stuck to his clothes.

He'll still put his used and sweaty clothes in the laundry basket in your shared quarters so you have something to entertain yourself with. He just doesn't want to see you suffocate and nauseate again from inhaling formaldehyde from one of his lab gowns from back then.

You were simply sitting against the couch in Dottore's office, reading one of the latest novel that Childe got you from Inazuma while you wait for your lovely scientist of a boyfriend to finish with his work in the lab connected to the office. Too invested in the book, you didn't notice the new presence standing behind you. You hummed in response as you watched a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders and pulling you close to a firm chest.

"Hello, darling."

You smiled, knowing it's Dottore. But is it him or his segment?

You rubbed your cheek against the arm, using that action as a diversion to inhale the scent from his clothes. Antiseptic. Not a trace of his own body odor or sweat. This is definitely a segment.

Meanwhile, the 'Dottore' behind you was simply grinning at your actions, finding it adorable yet oblivious to what you're really doing.

You know there's only one segment that would confidently be affectionate towards you whenever his creator isn't around.

"Hello to you too, Omega. Are you done with your work?"

Omega, slightly surprised at how you easily guessed it was him, affectionately rubbed his cheek against the top of your head and let out a small hum.

"Not at all. I still have to wait for a few minutes until the concoction I'm currently working on is complete. In the meantime, I simply wanted to check up on you and be blessed with your attention."

You shifted in your position so that you were able to lean your head back to look at the masked segment before placing a kiss upon his cheek. This caused Omega to sigh in content as he basked in your affections.

Minutes turned into an hour as you and Omega chatted about the projects he and the others are working on. He was about to tell you about the newest project about creating a god but was immediately stopped by someone clearing their throat. You turned your head to the sound to come eye to eye with Dottore himself, his red irises staring back against your own.

"Omega, I suggest you get back to work instead of lazing around and chatting with my partner. The concoction you left behind has already finished thirty minutes ago."

"Ah, well then, I'll take that as my cue to leave. She's all yours now, Lord Harbinger. I'll see you later, darling."

Just as Omega stated, he quickly got up and went to head back in the laboratory, leaving you and Dottore alone. Leaving the book by the coffee table, you immediately ran over to your partner and hugged him, burying your face into his chest and inhaling his comforting scent. Dottore sighed when you hugged him, trying to push you away from him but failed.

"Dearest, I'd be glad to hug you back but I'm sweaty and I do not wish to contaminate you with my own sweat. Let me take a bath first then I'll cuddle you."

"No need. I like how you smell, doesn't matter if you're all sweaty or bleeding."

"You're odd, you know that. But that's what made me attracted to you, I suppose. Your oddities are very endearing."

Dottore, finally giving in, wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close, placing a kiss to your forehead as well.

"Also, don't think I didn't catch you sniffing me everytime you're in my arms. Even if you're being sneaky about it and making excuses, it wouldn't get past my field of vision, darling."

Ah.

Seems like you've been caught in the act.

[thesoftestirises]

carry your throne

♡ pairing : aemond x reader ♡ rating : 18+. this is smut. like... toe curling, pearl clutching inducing, ‘what did he sayyyy?’ smut. minors dni. you will be blocked. ♡ word count : 4.5k ♡ warnings : light degradation, humiliation, quid pro quo set up (fr this could be read as prostitution - but only to one man), name calling, nipple play, breeding, sanctioned cheating, oral, aemond is kinda evil but he’s a sweetie on the inside i promise ♡ summary : If you had met under normal circumstances, you would have been expected to curtsy to him. But you and Aemond were far past societally expected niceties. ♡ a/n : if this seems familiar, it is! it’s a rewrite of the moon knight fic of the same name. i just felt it suited aemond so much it needed to be republished.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest?” A voice whispered into your ear, soft and teasing.

A familiar pair of hands moved to your waist, caressing your curves and playing with the laces of your gown. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin in response to the touch, your body growing warm at just the thought of the person behind you. Experience had not made you numb to the feeling those fingertips brought. You turned around to gaze into the single, pale blue eye you saw in your dreams.

“Prince Aemond,” you said, tilting your head downwards in a polite nod. If you had met under normal circumstances, you would have been expected to curtsy to him. But you and Aemond were far past societally expected niceties.

“Miss Y/N. That dress looks expensive,” Aemond said, his heavy gaze roaming around your frame before coming back to your own eyes.

Time had taught you that every conversation with Aemond went deeper than what was heard on the surface. Every exchange was a performance, an intricate dance where you would circle around the truth and try to gain the upper hand by pretending to care less than the other. There was always a double meaning to every word he said. You supposed it was a habit he picked up from being surrounded by two faced aristocrats. Cruelty masked as politeness, gossip masked as concern. Even though you were both well into adulthood, Aemond constantly made you feel like a clumsy little girl.

“Is it? I wouldn’t know,” you said. You kept your expression neutral and looked down at the vivid blue fabric draped over your body as if seeing it for the first time. As if you hadn’t spent two hours marveling at the intricate lacework before even trying it on. As if you hadn’t had to hide it under your bed to prevent anyone else from seeing and wondering why you were in possession of such a luxury. “After all, you were the one who bought it.”

He smiled in amusement and cupped your cheek, the cool metal of his signet ring pressed against your burning skin. “How’s Ron?”

You fiddled with your wedding ring without thinking. It was a gaudy thing, studded with sparkling gemstones that practically took up half your finger. Of course, none of them were real. As many things with Ron were, it was just for appearances. Appearances were all Ron could afford. All he cared about. His concern with what other people thought had driven the both of you into debt, leaving you to clean up his mess. But your solution to the problem was merely a house of cards. You just hoped it would last long enough for one of you to come up with a better solution than spreading your legs for your husband’s lender.

“He’s fine.”

Aemond hummed in acknowledgment. “Business is good, I presume?”

“It is.”

“Wonderful. Strip.”

You obeyed, quickly and efficiently removing your clothes. Aemond had little patience and didn’t care much for shows. In the beginning of your arrangement with him, he would tear the clothes off you himself if you weren’t quick enough. You had spent many nights hiding out in Aemond’s study until all his servants were off to bed so you could sneak out in a different gown than the one you had arrived in.

Aemond moved across the room to a red leather armchair and sat down while you set your discarded clothes down into a neat pile. You folded your hands in front of you and stared at him, waiting for further instruction. Every rendezvous with Aemond went a little differently. So differently, in fact, that you often felt like you were dealing with entirely different people who were simply wearing the same face. Sometimes, he just wanted you to stand in front of him while he stroked his cock to completion. Other times, he would pin you against a window and whisper immoral filth into your ear while rubbing your clit. Tonight, he watched you with a greedy glint in his eye as he dragged his gaze from your head down to your toes.

“Crawl.”

You sucked in a breath and sank to your hands and knees. The hardwood floors under your skin were unforgivingly cold, but acted as a welcome balm on your feverishly hot skin. You kept your gaze locked on Aemond’s lips as you moved forward, trying to remain as unbothered as possible to spite him. He liked humiliating you, just as he did with everyone else in his life. You tried to avoid giving him the satisfaction of shaming you. He already had more than enough power.

He stopped you with a simple hand motion when you got close enough to touch. “Sit.”

You leaned back and sat straight, allowing Aemond to brush your hair away from your face. You tilted your head up and allowed him to run his fingertips over your jawline, nose, and lips. His touch was gentle, warm, almost sweet. You hated how much you enjoyed it.

“When was the last time Ron fucked you?” Aemond whispered.

“Yesterday.”

He kept his expression neutral, but you could see the distaste on his lips. Perhaps he hated to be reminded that he had to share with someone he thought of as beneath him. “Did you like it? His cock?”

“Yes,” you replied, but it was a second too late. Aemond could easily see the hesitation written all over your face.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“What is it to you if I enjoy being fucked by my husband or not?” You said in a whispered hiss.

He smirked and stroked a thumb over your cheekbone. “Whatever are you so angry for, dove? Are you upset your husband can’t satisfy your cunt the way I do? Maybe next time we should invite him in. I could give him a proper lesson on how to tease and stroke your whore body.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and sneered. “Are you going to talk all day or are you going to fuck me, my prince?”

“Patience is a virtue, princess,” he grinned, his teeth appearing inhumanly sharp. He plucked an envelope from the table next to him, tearing it open with an ornate ivory letter opener and extracting the contents. He leaned back in his chair with all the assured air of a refined aristocrat and spread his legs. “Be a dear and busy your mouth, won’t you?”

You glared at him but he ignored you, choosing to focus on the paper he held in his hands instead. A tense silence settled in the room, only interrupted by the sound of Aemond’s drunken servants having their evening meal in the kitchen downstairs. You bit your tongue and sighed to yourself. Pride wasn’t something you could afford anymore. The sooner you sucked him off and gave him his release, the easier it would be for you to go home without drawing suspicion.

You placed a hand on Aemond’s thigh and listened to his pleased hum. The material of his trousers felt like silk, the type of rich and smooth fabric that only the ultra wealthy could afford. You ran your fingertips over the inner seam and drew closer and closer to his cock. His warmth seemed to radiate right through the clothing. It was addictive. You were almost tempted to rub your face against him like a cat in heat.

You glanced up and were annoyed to see he still wasn’t looking at you. You scowled and tugged at his belt, swiftly unbuckling it and loosening his trousers. Aemond’s cock was half hard, the soft skin flushed pink instead of the violent red you were more used to. You spat into your palm and wrapped your hand around the base, gently stroking him as you got yourself warmed up. Even though you’d taken Aemond many times and in multiple positions, his size still intimidated you. You gave the tip of his length a kiss before swiping your tongue over the head. He let out a quiet hum of approval and pushed his cock against your lips more insistently.

“Get on with it, princess. At this pace you’ll be here until sunrise,” he grunted.

You glared at him but obeyed, wrapping your lips around his flesh, his bitter mint flavor washing over your tongue. You found his taste remarkably tolerable, almost arousing. Like his essence was laced with some sort of aphrodisiac. You pressed your tongue up against the underside of his cock and sucked, drawing a pleased sigh from his lips. A steady trickle of precum began leaking from his tip and filling your mouth. You pressed your tongue into his slit and looked up to see if you had gotten his attention. Aemond stared back down at you with a glossy expression, his letter long forgotten on the floor by his feet.

You pulled your mouth off of him, leaving his cock slick and shiny with spit, and pumped his length with the hand you kept wrapped around the base. “Is this satisfactory, my prince?”

“I’ll be satisfied when that pretty face is coated in cum and tears,” he replied, his chest heaving as he dug his nails into the leather of his chair. “Choke on my cock, princess. Let me see you look ravished and thoroughly had. Do that for me and I’ll give you the world.”

You closed your eyes in response to his filth. How he managed to make the dirtiest things sound sexy and pleasurable, you’d never know. “As you wish, my prince.”

You lined his length up with your mouth and took it as far into you as you could. His flesh pressed up against your throat, restricting your air flow and getting your eyes to well up with tears, just as Aemond had wanted. You ignored the discomfort in your mouth and jaw and moved your head up and down over Aemond’s cock. Aesthetics came second to doing whatever got him to react. Eventually Aemond stopped you, pulling his length away from your mouth and taking your chin into his fingers.

“It’s a pity we don’t have a portrait artist on hand to capture the way you look right now,” he said, gently stroking your cheekbone with his thumb and mockingly pouting at you. “You know, I’ve always admired the way you carry yourself. So poised, so refined. One could easily mistake you for a landed lady. But when I see you like this, I can’t help but think this is where you truly belong.”

He pulled you up and into his lap, your back pressed against his chest as he explored your body with his hands. You pressed your legs together to try to control the dull throbbing in your core and bit back your urge to whine. Aemond placed his lips on your jaw and moved his hands upwards to pluck at your sensitive nipples. You squirmed and pressed back to try to evade the pleasure his fingers brought, but there was no escaping him. He had caged you in his arms, enveloping you into a pine scented embrace. And even if he wasn’t wrapped around you, you weren’t sure you would really want to leave.

“My pretty little dove,” he whispered, squeezing your breasts. “If I were your husband, I would have impregnated you four times over by now.”

“My prince,” you gasped. “Your words are dangerous.”

Aemond merely hummed in response, nibbling at the shell of your ear while continuing to circle and pinch at your buds. Once your nipples were swollen and fully sensitive to the touch, Aemond twisted your head towards him. You obediently let him press at your bruised lips with his fingers and explored his face with your eyes.

Prince Aemond was undeniably good looking. He had a head full of white blond hair, golden skin, a rare smile that could bring a woman to her knees. A god amongst men. But your favorite feature of his had always been his gaze. The raw, unrestrained power on one side, the ghost of his past written on the other. Even now, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked with his.

“Spread your thighs,” Aemond said.

You obediently opened your legs and leaned your head back against Aemond’s shoulder. His hands directly went to your folds, one hand keeping you spread open, the other playing with your aching clit. You closed your eyes nuzzled into Aemond’s neck as he touched you, circling your bead in a slow, steady pace.

“Sloppy little harlot. Dripping all over my fingers and staining my trousers,” Aemond said, pinching your clit. “No one fucks this body as well as I do. Right, dove?”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly, desperate to keep his hands on you.

“I’m going to prepare you for my cock, princess. Is that okay?”

“Please.”

Aemond chuckled and kissed your temple before taking your left hand into his. He ran his thumb over your palm and paused when he reached your wedding ring. He examined the glittering paste jewel before taking the band off and placing it on the side table next to him. You opened your mouth to protest but stopped when you noticed him taking off his signet ring. You knit your brows together and watched as he placed the ring on your finger where your wedding ring used to be.

“Hold that for me, won’t you?” he said, kissing the soft skin of your neck before playfully biting down.

You nodded and whined as he returned his fingers to your folds, this time focusing on your entrance. He circled your opening and pressed the pad of his finger in, teasing you without providing any release. You grabbed onto the arms of the chair you were both in and bit down on your lip.

“Please, my prince, I can’t take it,” you begged.

“What is it you wish for, dove?”

“Your fingers,” you breathed.

“And where would you like my fingers, hm? Your pretty breasts? Your sweet mouth?”

“Don’t tease me, my prince.”

“Oh,” he pouted, giving you a look of false pity. “I’m afraid I can’t help you unless you tell me where to touch you. So tell me, princess. Where does this lewd, whore body wish to be touched?”

“My cunt,” you said without hesitation, turning your head towards Aemond. Your gaze was so hazy, you could barely make out his facial features, yet you could easily focus on his berry tinted lips. You stared and longed to close the space between your bodies, to finally taste Aemond’s mouth. But some part of you, the logical part most likely, was demanding you keep your distance.

“Oh, my dove. Was that so hard?” He asked, pressing the finger he was teasing you with inside. You whimpered as Aemond began moving the digit in and out at a steady pace. “How are you always so tight? Is your husband even fucking you?”

“Sh-shut up,” you said, biting back your noises of pleasure. “Put another finger in.”

“Such filthy demands,” Aemond said, pretending to be shocked. He kissed your cheek and did as you asked, pushing another finger into your entrance and curling the digits inside to tease at your walls. You stiffened and let out a strangled cry, writing in Aemond’s arms as he pressed against every sensitive part of you. “Look, dove. Look at where I’m touching.”

You lowered your gaze to where your bodies were connected and groaned. Aemond’s fingers were glistening and flushed pink, dripping with your juices.

“Dirty, isn’t it? You can practically hear how wet you are. Listen,” he whispered in your ear as he parted your folds further to illustrate. “Do you hear that?”

You nodded, watching as Aemond rubbed your swollen clit with his thumb. Every time he moved his fingers, a slick, wet noise came from between your legs. You were mesmerized. Dizzy with pleasure, swept up in the desire that only Aemond could seem to bring out of you. He added another finger while you were lost in your thoughts and kept working you open.

You were only broken out of your trance by the brush of Aemond’s lips against your ear as he spoke. “Are you ready to continue?”

“Yes, my prince.”

He smiled, his sharp teeth on full display once more. You shivered, half in arousal, half in anticipation. He slipped an arm under your knees and another around your shoulders and lifted you up. You snuggled in close as he settled you onto his desk and cleared off the space behind you. The edges of the mahogany table felt harsh and unyielding underneath your hips, but you could barely focus on that when Aemond had his hands on your thighs.

“Beg for my cock, princess.”

“My prince,” you said, cupping the side of his face and brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. “I need you inside me. Take me. Please.”

He smirked down at you and loosened his tie. You laid down and stared up at him as he positioned himself at your entrance. The two of you had engaged in this illicit dance so many times, and yet each time felt like the first. You placed your hands on his chest, curiously stroking the silky fabric of his shirt. The material was thin, allowing you to feel the muscles he hid under his clothing. You briefly lamented the fact that he rarely ever had the patience to strip for you. While you were lost in thought, he took one of your hands and brought it to his lips, softly kissing it before placing it over his heart.

You let out a deep breath and winced as he began pushing inside. He stroked the skin of your hips and made sure to move slowly, keeping his gaze on your face. The pain mixed with pleasure until you could no longer tell which feeling was which. Every nerve in you had been set on fire, the warm arousal in the pit of your stomach flaring up to a heat that rivaled the sun. He bottomed out in you after what felt like an eternity and waited for you to whine at him before he moved.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “I’ll give you what you want, dove. Don’t worry. I’ll tend to your every desire.”

You were too delirious to respond to him, lost in the overwhelming feeling of him filling what felt like every empty space in your body. His warmth, his scent, his touch - he overwhelmed you. He moved in a slow, deep rhythm, careful not to hurt you as he reacquainted your body with his. His consideration for you was sweet, but unnecessary. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped harshly at his shirt.

“I’m not made of porcelain, my prince. Please go faster.”

“Last time I obeyed your commands, I got an angry letter from your keeper,” Aemond said, keeping his slow rhythm steady as sweat began to gather on his brow. “Apparently you told him I had fucked you so harshly, you couldn’t bare to take another cock for two weeks.”

You flushed with heat and looked down in embarrassment. “I was fine.”

“Oh, so you lied?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“Will you fuck me properly or not?”

“Tell me why you lied to your husband, truthfully, and I’ll give you as many orgasms as your body can handle.”

You hesitated. The rational part of your mind screamed at you not to give someone as manipulative as Aemond information that could destroy you. But the part of you that was at the helm, the animal instincts that polite society had demanded you keep suppressed, thought destruction at the hands of your secret lover sounded seductive. “I did not want to lay with him.”

His lips curved into a slow smile, as if he had been expecting that answer all along. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I wasn’t aware ‘marriage counseling’ was one of your areas of expertise, my prince,” you sarcastically replied. “Fuck me harder or I’ll get myself off.”

At that he frowned, grabbing your hands and pinning them down at your sides. “You are the most infuriating little creature I’ve ever met.”

“Likewise, my prince.”

His lip twitched in displeasure before he slammed into you without warning. You gasped, digging your nails into his desk to keep yourself grounded as Aemond began fucking you relentlessly. Though his rhythm was meant to be a punishment, you enjoyed it far more than you should and quickly found yourself hovering over the edge. You only needed a little push to fully get yourself there. You attempted to move a hand between your thighs to rub your clit, but were still trapped by Aemond’s unyielding grip.

“Let my hand go,” you demanded.

“What for?”

“I need to come.”

“And you thought I’d just let you take your pleasure after how rude you’ve been to me tonight?”

You frowned petulantly. “You promised.”

“You didn’t get it in writing,” he smirked. “But I’ll make you a deal, hm? I’ll deliver everything I promised you if you say one, simple phrase.”

You paused and looked at him skeptically. “What phrase?”

He gave you a gentle smile, bringing a hand to your hairline and wiping away the sweat that had gathered there. “Say that you love me.”

You froze. This was cruel, even for him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” He asked, slowing the pace of his thrusts until he stopped entirely and released his grip on your wrists.

“Both,” you snapped.

“Why not?”

“Because,” you said, looking away from him as your eyes began to flood with tears. You kept your gaze fixed on a painting of a flower vase and willed yourself to stay calm. You had done everything to prevent yourself from developing feelings, villainizing him in your own mind so you wouldn’t have to suffer the pain of loving someone you could never have. Somehow, despite all odds, he had found you out. You felt embarrassed, ashamed. You were fearful that he’d throw your feelings back in your face, unable and unwilling to reciprocate.

Aemond brought the hand on your forehead down to your jaw and forced you to look at him.

“My princess,” he murmured, his brows drawn together. “Even if you do not say it, I want you to know that I do. Love you, that is.”

“My prince-“

“Aemond,” he corrected.

You licked your lips and nodded. “Aemond, we can’t. I’m a married woman, and you’re a respected member of this community. This affair was bad enough, but to get our emotions involved- this could ruin you.”

“I don’t care,” Aemond replied. “I need you, all of you. My entire life I’ve wanted for nothing. I understand the value of wealth and power, but all of these things that surround me are just baubles to show off to others. I could live without these things. But you, I could never live without you. I crave you. I think about you constantly. You are the only person in my life who I feel at ease with. Everything beautiful and pure in this world reminds me of you. Please, my love. Don’t give up on us before we even have the chance to try.”

You blinked up at him, searching his expressive gaze and only finding affection and overwhelming adoration. “I love you, Aemond.”

He grinned and leaned down, pressing his mouth against yours for the first time. He tasted surprisingly sweet against your tongue and you couldn’t get enough. You tangled your fingers into his soft hair, parting your lips and sighing into the kiss. He shifted his hips back and forward against yours, reminding you he had never pulled out.

You broke the kiss to look at Aemond incredulously. “Did you seriously stay hard that whole time?”

“You know how much I like it when you cry, my love,” he replied, nipping at your lower lip before moving to lick one of your tear stained cheeks.

You shivered in disgusted arousal. “You are a perverted man.”

“I know,” he said, stealing a quick kiss from your lips before moving back to his earlier position. He gripped the back of your knees and looked down at you with a smirk. “But you seem to like that, hm? Maybe that’s something we should explore.”

“Later,” you said, gasping as Aemond’s cock began pressing against a sensitive area inside you. “Oh, right there.”

He wordlessly continued hitting the spot, keeping a steady rhythm as he brought you back to the precipice. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the feeling he evoked inside of you becoming too much for you to handle. At that moment, he moved a hand down to the apex of your thighs and pressed his thumb against your clit. Your climax overwhelmed you, blocking out your vision and leaving you writhing in the aftershocks of pleasure. Aemond finished a few moments after you did, carefully pulling out before finishing on your stomach. You winced as he dragged his fingers through the mess he made and smeared the sticky fluid over your cheeks and lips.

“You make the prettiest picture like this,” he said, massaging the fluid into your skin as best as he could while you squirmed and shot him an annoyed look.

Once you came down from your post coital haze, you looked at Aemond apprehensively. “Did you mean everything you said earlier?”

“Of course I did,” he frowned. “I love you, and I’d do anything to have you.”

“Does that include leveraging your financial control over my husband to take his wife?”

“I did say anything, didn’t I? Don’t worry, I have plans for dear Ronald.” Aemond smirked and gently placed his hands on your hips. “Suppose a certain prince who Ronald was indebted to noticed a few discrepancies in his ledgers? Fraud is a serious crime, my love, especially when you’re defrauding nobility. That’s a guaranteed prison sentence for dearest Ronald. But oh, he would be leaving behind a beautiful wife to fend for herself. Would it be so bad if the handsome prince that Ronald defrauded kindly decided to take in his helpless, pretty wife? It would only be the honorable thing to do.”

You giggled and pulled Aemond down to brush your nose against his. “And would this handsome prince be marrying Ronald’s wife?”

“If Ronald’s wife permits, the handsome prince would not only marry her, he would fill her womb as many times as she likes,” Aemond said.

“I think she’d like that,” you replied, stealing a kiss.

[insxghtt]

the moon — aemond targaryen x reader

After pushing you away, Aemond tries to apologize. He hoped the full moon could help him.

warnings: +18 only, some spicy shit but no actual smut, angst but also fluff, mentions of violence but no actual violence, aemond being sweet as fuck.

this was based on this request. english is not my first language so i’m sorry if you find any mistakes. hope you enjoy!

You were aware that marriage was about politics, and not about love. You’ve always known that. But somewhere inside of you still wished to believe that someone like Aemond would make it different.

Before the marriage, you had only seen him three times. Three times you would talk about everything and anything. Three times you came home wondering if he had liked you the same way as you had liked him.

At eighteen, people had been talking about how you should’ve been already married, but you were used to being the black sheep of the family. You were the middle sister. Your older sister had been married for a while, giving your parents a great alliance. Your younger brother was already betrothed to a beautiful lady from the north.

But you? You were the one your parents always forgot to mention. And when you met Aemond, you felt like he understood this better than anyone. You two were friends. Not really close friends, but friends. You’ve heard people talk about how cruel he could be, but it was hard to believe when he was so kind to you.

That is why you were happy when your parents seemed to remember that you existed and suggested to the King that you were betrothed to Aemond. He was polite, he was beautiful and he was respectful.

But the marriage was weird. He didn’t look at you all day. Maybe he was shy, you thought. The night came and he took you to his chambers. You were sweating cold, nervous about what should happen next. People said it hurts. Would it bleed? Was he going to be delicate? Would he like it? Would he like you?

He sat on the edge of the bed looking down while you stood in front of him. You didn’t know what to say. It was the first time you were alone with him in a few days and it was also the first time that the silence between you two was uncomfortable.

“Will you kiss me?”, you asked after a few minutes.

He looked at you, surprised by the question. “We do not have to do this tonight if you’re uncomfortable...”

“Do you wish to bed me?”, you interrupted.

His pupil was dilated and it made it look like his eyes were darker than usual. Someone once told you that when a person looks at something they desire, their pupils dilate. Maybe that meant something, you thought.

He stood up, stepped closer to you and touched your cheek. You wished to close your eyes to enjoy it, but you didn’t. You continued to look at him. His lips, his eye, his scar, every inch of his face seemed to be carved by the gods themselves.

He ran his other hand through your hair until it stopped on your shoulder exposed by the beautiful gown you were wearing and sighed. “I believe only a foolish man could ever say no to your question.”

It was a compliment, wasn’t it? It seemed so. Then why wasn’t he kissing you?

Aemond walked around you and stopped behind you, his delicate touch never leaving your shoulder. You didn’t dare to move, enjoying every moment of it.

It felt like you were in heaven when his lips touched your neck on a delicate kiss. He slowly began to release the braids on your hair one by one. And when you realized, he was untying the laces of your dress. You closed your eyes and hoped that he continued to be that calm all night. You’ve heard stories about men who did not care to be soft.

But Aemond was not like that. He could hurt many people on battles, but not his lady. He swore to protect you and he would.

When your hair was finally free from the braids, and your dress slipped down your body, you turned to him. He stared at your body, your lips and then your eyes. Part of you wanted to get dressed again and run away, but the other one wanted him to look at you.

You had to kiss him. You needed him.

So, you took your hands to his neck and brought your lips together. He was fast to return your touch and held your waist tightly. Not even on your wildest dreams you imagined that it would feel so magical. His tongue was warm like the blood of the dragon and his lips were soft like they were made for kissing yours. His fingers were pressed against your waist so hard that for the first time, you wished them to touch you somewhere else.

Without separating your lips, you took a few steps back, guiding him to the bed behind you, and before you fell on the bed, he grabbed your legs. You wrapped them around his body and let him pick you up. He sat on the bed with you on his lap.

It was perfect. His hands running over your body, his lips leaving kisses on your chin and neck. It was too good and you wanted more. And that was your mistake. To think that he would let you see him fully just like you let him see you.

You reached for his eyepatch, but before you could even touch it, he held your wrist. His touch was not kind this time. It was firm and brute. You opened your eyes and looked at him surprised. He was looking at you, but not like before. His pupil was no longer dilated, the blue and cold eye stared at you like you were a stranger.

“Did I do something wrong?”, you asked.

But Aemond did not answer. He pushed you away and you sat next to him with a confused look. He stood up and looked at you. You wondered if he was mad at you. It looked like he was, but you did not understand why.

Maybe he just didn’t like you. Your eyes filled with tears just thinking of it.

And Aemond felt like a monster. You were right there, naked on a bed, looking at him with tears on your eyes. He tried to say something, but the words were suddenly gone.

So, he just turned away and left. You hugged your legs and watched as he closed the door behind him, feeling used and discarded. That night, that was meant to be shared with your husband, became just another sad story in your life.

The next day, it took you a lot of courage to get out of bed. He did not come back. Maybe he had been to a brothel, you thought, to find a woman of his taste. It was humiliating. Your parents would be ashamed of you if they knew that you couldn’t please your husband not even for one night.

And what hurt you the most was that you liked him. You liked his touch and his kisses. You wanted him.

The maids did not question when you asked for your meals to be delivered on your chamber, but you saw the confused look on their faces. It didn’t matter, you just wanted to be alone. What if Aemond told someone? What if he talked about you?

The day passed so slowly it felt like torture to you. You cried, a lot. And every tear made you feel more like a fool for actually thinking that Aemond would be so different from any other man. Slowly, your sadness turned to anger.

How could he? You would’ve never done this to him. It was not your fault if you were not the girl of his dreams.

But that was what men did. Men were stupid and mean. Aemond was stupid and mean too. At least, that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of.

When the night came, you felt more comfortable to finally leave your chamber. You needed to stretch your legs and the four walls of that room were starting to annoy you.

The guard outside your door had left for a while. Maybe to go eat something. Maybe to drink some water.

“Or maybe to go look for a whore, like all men do”, you mumbled low to yourself.

You walked through the halls of the castle until you got to the garden. The Red Keep was not your favorite place, definitely not your home after last night, but it had a beautiful garden. There was no one but you there, so you were not ashamed to sit on the grass to look at the stars. The moon was full, which made the night clearer than the usual.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”, someone behind you said.

You knew damn well who that voice belonged to. And it was definitely the last person you wanted to deal with right now.

You stood up, ready to leave if you had to. “Go away, Aemond.”

You sounded hurt, he noticed. Of course, who wouldn’t be? He felt like an idiot.

“Usually, wives refer to their husbands in a more... loving way”, he said.

“Yes, because everything about our marriage is very loving, isn’t it?”

He looked up at the moon and took a step forward to be closer to you. You did not move away, but crossed your arms and stared at him with anger. “Some people believe that the full moon fulfills wishes, my dear wife.”

“People believe all sorts of nonsense”, you rolled your eyes and he looked at you.

“I think it’s true”, he said and you froze for a minute. “It was a night of a full moon when I claimed Vhagar.”

Aemond had his hands behind his back and his posture made him appear so beautiful it made you angry. How dared he? He left you alone, naked, crying, and now he was there, talking about the moon as if nothing had happened.

“It’s late”, you said, trying to escape that situation. “I should go rest now and so should you, my prince.”

“Wait.”

From his voice, if you didn't know better, you'd think Aemond was desperate.

“I hope the full moon really does fulfill wishes”, he whispered. He took his hand to his eyepatch, removing it from his face. It took him a while to look at you again. It was the first time you saw him like that. “Because I wish you do not fear me as I am.”

The light of the moon on the sapphire that replaced his lost eye made it shine in the most unique way. Suddenly, it all made sense. He was ashamed of himself. And all those hours trying to create some kind of hatred towards him were wasted.

“How could I fear you?”, once again, your eyes were filled with tears. Only this time, they were not from shame or disappointment. “How could I ever...”, your voice failed.

You got close to him and raised your hand to touch his face. This time, you waited for him to nod, allowing you to touch him. He closed his eye when he felt your fingers running over his cheek, hoping that you wouldn’t be disgusted like his own family was. Everyone, except for his mother, avoided looking at him when he was not covering his scar.

“Does it hurt?”, you asked and he took the courage to look at you again.

You did not seem scared, or disgusted.

“Sometimes.”

Every time, he wished to say. The pain was constant, and some days were worse than others. But he got used to it, just like he got used to the looks they gave him and to the rumors of how cruel he was.

Aemond was never cruel. Sometimes he was cold, yes, because people haven’t been kind to him. But he had seen cruelty before and that was not him.

“It is beautiful”, you whispered.

“It is not.”

“Shut up, husband”, you held his face. He smiled a bit. “If you ever leave me like that again I will burn all of your clothes and throw them out the window.”

He chuckled and wrapped you in his arms. You buried your face in his neck and snuggled into his embrace.

“I thought you didn’t like me”, your voice was muffled and he felt a tickle on his neck from your breathing. “Thought you went to a brothel to find a prettier woman for you.”

“I did not go to a brothel, but I was with a lady”, he said and you tried to get out of his embrace, but he held you tighter.

“You bastard!”, you complained, your voice still muffled because of the hug.

“Do not worry, the lady in question was Vhagar”, he chuckled and you snorted, relaxing again on his arms. “And I'm afraid it would be impossible for me to ever find a woman who is prettier than you.”

You raised your head to look at him again. He touched you lips with his thumb, remembering how good they felt last night.

“You are the only woman I ever wanted”, he whispered.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: I'm moving tomorrow.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The tension turns roiling. Even in such airy halls, you cannot escape it, not that you venture very far from your rooms. It seems with each interaction, your relationship with your fiance only grows more fraught. You needn’t wonder why. It’s the very same reason your own father regards you with derision. You’re defective, less than what he hoped for. 

You sit in the window seat, looking over the greenery that reflects Jade Garden’s title. It’s a home anyone would covet and yet it feels as a penitentiary might. These walls are unyielding and the isolation suffocating. 

Your visions drifts into the distance as the leaves turn to green smears blending into the dimming blue of the sky. You close your eyes and turn your head straight, leaning against the wall as you hook your arms around your legs. 

A banquet. It’s less than a proper debut. You’re not certain anyone would be expecting you, or even know who you are. Will they be surprised when they hear your father’s name?  

There are things you know. Things you must ready yourself for. Certainly, there will be jeers, mocking whispers, and errant giggles. Just the same as anyone ever reacted to you. Even the farmhands would echo your speech and laugh bawdily. It hardly matter’s your a lord’s daughter when you sound so ridiculous. 

You hang your head and sigh. It isn’t just one banquet, it is the beginning of a lifetime of events. You will not only face this one night, but many anon. You will be the one they speak of behind their hands and the joke at the card tables. 

You stand, made restless by your dread. The window darkens with the evening’s arrival. Doreen raps at the door and leaves a tray of supper. You pick at it but don’t eat much. You must keep yourself busy so your mind is not. 

You go to your chests. You will need Doreen to unpack these soon. It’s as if the longer you leave them full, the less assured your fate. You might still strap them up and flee. 

You know that isn’t truly an option. 

You take out a gown the shade of cooked pumpkin with an overlay that lends it a bronzish hue. The bodice is trimmed with an eyelet effect and the hem of the cap sleeves and skirt finely threaded with beads. You lay it out on the chaise and find a pair of slippers to go with it and ribbon for your hair decorated with black onyx and brass. 

If Edith could see you then. It should be her in your place. That thought rings louder and louder, bolstered by the constant disapproval. 

You back away from your attire, spinning so you won’t have to look upon it. You never thought to miss home so much. Not your parents, you’re certain they hardly grieve your absence, but for the familiarity, for the simple walls and memories. Edith is there, even gone, you know you would see her in every cushion and every corner. 

You go to the door and listen. As silent as ever. You emerge into the corridor and make careful progress on the pads of your feet. You come to the top of the stairwell and peer down on the foyer. For all it’s beauty, this place is rather grim. 

You descend and let your eyes lead you. You take in every ornament, every statue, every door trim, and every tile of the floor. You want to know it all. You don’t want to feel so lost. 

You find your way along to the sunroom. Upon your approach, the door opens and you falter. A lithe figure emerges. You press yourself to the wall, unready for Loki’s appearance. He has a snifter of liquor in hand as he glowers in the light of a lantern in his other.  

He steps towards you and pauses, lifting the light higher to cast over you. His breath escapes him derisively. He lowers the lantern and sniffs. 

“Like a rat, you skitter incessantly,” he remarks. 

“My Lawd,” you push away from the wall and angle away from him. 

“I am speaking to you. Do not go until I give leave to,” he demands. 

You stop and face him again, hands meeting in apprehension. 

“This banquet business,” his nostrils flare, “I will not be humiliated. Not as you have tonight.” 

“My Lawd, I have been twained in etiq—etiqwette,” you insist. 

He scoffs, “your manners hardly bother me. Certainly you might have some grain of awareness.” 

You seal your lips. He’s said it plainly, as you have. He might be able to close his ears to your impediment but it is with you always. 

“Perhaps you might keep your words to a minimum,” he advises, “select them wisely.” 

You stare at him, cheeks fiery and eyes tinging, “If you would wather, I might make an excuse. A sudden malady, my lawd. I’d hate to stain your chawacter.” 

His eyes roll to the side and his features sharpen, “more would be said were I to appear without my betrothed after my mother’s promises.” 

That he has referred to your nuptials is not so nice as it should be. He speaks to it as a sentence. You look him in the face. 

“It won’t eva go away,” you say. 

“Hm, I only need get through the wedding night,” he retorts and you can’t help but wince. 

You swallow, your hurt turning bitter. “As do I.” 

His head tilts and he squints. He lets out another snort, “pardon?” 

“My sista would’ve hated you,” you whisper. “You did not desawve to know haw.” 

“Be wary,” he steps closer. 

“You make an enemy of me, not I you,” you lift your chin.  

He’s silent. He shifts even closer. So near, you have to keep from wilting away. You stare back at him defiantly, heart beating. 

“You do not know yet what it is to have me as an enemy so you best mind your mannaws,” he mocks your cadence with his last word. 

Your lip trembles as he green eyes sparkle like dark emeralds in the lantern lights. Your chest is a flurry of hurt and anger. What have you ever done to him, or anyone, to make them so spiteful? You swing your arm against his to knock the snifter from his hand, sending a splash of alcohol across the wall and and his vest. The smell is acrid and sour. 

You back away from him, horrified at your reaction. You have learned to restrain yourself, to tamp it all down, to swallow it with a smile and say nothing. In that moment, you simply cannot. You shake your head as your face twists in despair. 

“I would wather an enemy, saw,” you hiss, “as I would be ashamed to call a cad like you husband.” 

His glare flashes and he sways as if he might lunge at you. He rights himself and his brow arches. His lips draw and his cheeks pale. 

“Very well.” 

He spins on his heel and stomps away, the light limning his silhouette sinisterly. You stare after him mortified. What has come over you? You were never bold or brazen or brutal to any. Edith would be disappointed. A gentle soul like her could never even think a hot word. 

You fall back against the wall and clutch your hands over your chest. Is this to be your life? Are you to live in loathing, not only of that man but of yourself. To be castigated for the lilt of your own tongue, the very pulse of your existence? You’d thought your father a villain but this man has proven himself worse. 

Worst than his distaste is your own futility, for he has assured you there is nothing you might do to appease him. As he is bound to you most miserably, so are you vowed to the same fate. Not even in that might you commiserate. 

🔹

You sit in front of the mirror, holding the brooch over the table, feeling the embroidery with the pad of your thumb. You turn it over and back again. It’s the only piece of your sister you have left. Every day she feels further away from you. Every morning, you awake, expecting to hear her, to see her, and she is not there, and you are not at home. 

You peer up at your reflection as your hand hovers over the painted wood. You’ve not touched a tress or cheek. You must ready, you know it, but your reticence is like chains on your wrists. You know what you are to face but knowing cannot make it any less unpleasant. 

A knock comes at the door. You call for the maid to enter, thinking Doreen’s come to remind you again of your pending engagement. The maid opens the door but says nothing, letting in the duchess instead. Lady Frigga is almost rapturous in a dressing gown of peach fabric as her hair is set already in tight curls around an elegant chignon. You stand, apologising for your misstep. 

“Dear, it is quite forgivable,” she assures, “I only meant to look in on you before the banquet, to be certain you do not require anything, but darling, oh,” she sweeps towards you and cups your cheeks, “you’ve not even begun. What is the matter?” 

“There is no issue,” you lie, “I mewely let time escape me.” 

You smile and gently pull away, turning back to the vanity. You open your hand and once more consider the pin. 

“Is this the dress you mean to wear?” Frigga asks as she crosses the room in a swish of silk. You peer over your shoulder as she looks down on the orange fabric. “It is a rather keen shade.” 

“Yes, my lady,” you answer in a dulcet tone. You cannot find a glimmer of concern for your attire. 

She sighs and returns to you, holding the ribbon you’ve chosen, “these are far too dour,” she touches an onyx, “haven’t you some pearls?” 

“Somewhaw...” You bend your neck, staring at the bluebird, at Edith’s handiwork. You remember the day she gave it to you and the way she smiled so proudly. How she pinned it on you herself and made you go around and show all. 

“Oh, dear, that won’t go at all. It would be nice for a lunch, no doubt, but not for a banquet,” she remarks and you close your hand around the brooch. You put your shoulders straight and face her. 

“I have a pawl band in my chest,” you resign and step around her. 

You go to the chest and sift around, careful not to let the brooch slip from your grasp. You take out the pearls on the ivory band and show it to her. She tuts. 

“It won’t go with this gown,” she insists. 

“Yes, the onyx--” 

“Mmp, I prefer pearls. Darling, you must be your best. It is your first social appearance. I do not say this to demean you, only to assist. I know your own mother cannot be here to see you debut but I cannot imagine her pain at this moment. So much loss. Both daughters at once, in a way,” she bemoans. 

Yes, you think of your mother too. You know she won’t be well. Nor your father. All their hopes and dreams dashed in a deficient daughter sent to carry a legacy on with a spiteful husband who mightn’t even have the stomach to deliver one. 

“I vewy much appweciate it, lady,” you make yourself smile, “I suppose it must be nawvs.” 

“Suppose it must,” she hums, “how about you wear the orange gown and I fetch you a feather pin from my own collection? I have a fabulous ostrich and topaz piece,” she assures, “and some black lace gloves. Ooh, yes, dear, we will make certain all is perfect.” 

“Thank you, Lady Fwigga, but it isn’t necessawy--” 

“You are to be my daughter, of course it is,” she preens. “Besides, who shall notice anything but how splendid you look?” 

She twists on her heel and your smile dwindles. You know what is meant. What she will not state plainly. Perhaps a fine outfit might distract from your crooked consonants. You sit on the stool again and watch her go. 

Even those who are kind cannot help their thoughts. She mightn’t be cruel about it, but you can hear the disappointment in her pandering cooing. You are not the daughter she wanted just as you are not the wife her son wanted. Just as you do not want to be as you are. 

[honestsycrets]

before anyone else II: the reverent | admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader

❛ pairing | admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader

❛ type | double-shot, explicit

❛ summary | politics and murder? easy. but if he thought he could stomach forcing the princess he loves into marriage... he was wrong. or reader forces admiral miguel o'hara into marriage.

❛ tags | forced marriage, royal!au, admiral!miguel, princess!reader, mention of murder, betrayal, treason, angst, f!reader, persuasion inspired, Spanish is not translated, female led breeding session, hand jobs, spicy bath time, ignoring miguel.

❛ sy's notes | the update no one asked for. the first chapter felt very incomplete without this one, so i just wanted to complete this series with a little bit of angst and smut.

“And what is that? Up there, Lyla.” 

Lyla is closer to you than he remembers. In his make-believe voyage to Stone’s home, he would need a new ship. Today Lyla invited you to sail imperial seas, cutting through the waters with a new ship, the Reverent. He hadn’t shown you much of anything in his rush to leave the capital eight years ago. He makes that right with Gwen at your side, donned in the clothing of the guard. You opted for a soft blue gown, a navy blue rebozo thrown over your shoulders. The fat bow that drew in your stomach tumbled down against the dress’s long train.

“That’s the Crow’s Nest.”

His men and women were ogling. It wasn’t exactly normal to have a soft woman on board—much less their princess. You held the top of your hat, glancing up at the beam. Sun bounced in your eye, and you laughed delightfully, clapping your hands together. “A crow’s nest? Why do they call it such a thing?” 

“The Vikings would release crows from the crow’s nest if they could not see,” Gwen answered, he did not know she cared so much about ships. You looked at her in delight as she explained. “Chart the path they took toward land.” 

“¡Qué chévere! Lady Gwen, you are quite knowledgeable.” 

“All sailor legend,” Miguel responded, the string of jealousy coursing through his bones, before he jerked his head toward those gathered along the main deck. He never did like crowds. “Back to shore! Off to your work, then!” 

“Thank you for showing me proper sailing,” they dispersed to the sound of your many thanks, a slight bow in your waist. If it were your father, he would never do such a thing. Gwen stepped to the side, holding her hands behind her back. “You have a wonderful crew.”

"You heard the admiral, off you go!" Lyla rushed off to the stern to take the ship's wheel.

“And Lyla?” she stopped, turning her big brown eyes at him. She probably knew what was coming as you slipped by Miguel, sliding your hand around his inner elbow. “No rum.” 

It was one time, she threw a curse. 

“Have I missed something?” you asked, setting your head against his thin poet’s shirt. He smelled of the salty sea and the thin film of his own sweat. The warmth of the sun must have drained you already, donned in tumbling full-body fabrics.

“I’ve something for you.” 

“Have you?” you asked, turning around to face him. Miguel reached around his neck, loosening the cord. His gift was not a necklace. If it were, he’d be far outmatched with jewels like sapphires, diamonds, and topaz nestled between your breasts. He pulled a ring from the cord, slipping onto his knees. You recognized the ring that he presented to you immediately. A modest ring of pearl set with tiny bits of a jewel that wasn’t quite diamond on either side.

“Oh, Miggy. You kept it?” you slipped your hand down to his waiting fingers. Miguel slid his ring onto your finger.

“It isn’t much. A guards pay, yes?” He began, realizing he was stumbling over his words. “But I… couldn’t help but think you would prefer it to something new.” 

You pulled your hand free, kneeling to catch his lips in a small, patient kiss. He was grateful for anything he could get-- repressed as he was. Gwen bit back a smile, a soft murmur of princess, to urge you not to draw out such attention in front of a band of sea-numb sailors. You slid back onto two feet, your hands coming together one over the other. 

“I love it. I always have, Miguel.” 

“Yes, well--” he cleared his throat. He pushed past Gwen toward the steer of the boat, barking some orders in intelligible sailor slang. “I should check on Lyla. Lest she beaches us on some obvious outcropping.” 

Gwen and you both knew it was to loosen himself of the embarrassment of a kiss well deserved. You glanced down at the engagement ring glittering on your finger, a smile working over your cheeks.

“Perhaps I should not have asked Lyla for her help,” you leaned over to whisper in Gwen’s ear. “My Miggy will never let her live it down.” 

“Yes,” Gwen agreed. “Perhaps not.” 

Hours ago, Miguel was on the salty sea. Tonight, Miguel held a bloody seax, wiping away kingly blood from its blade with a handkerchief that he’d promptly dispose of. For all his talk, the king took death well. Admirable, even! Barely a coward’s cry, a simple do it mijo, as Miguel drove his blade across his neck. Perhaps he expected his death, perhaps he missed his sons. Miguel couldn't help but think he knew what would happen by asking Miguel to deliver you to Stone like a hunk of precious cargo.

“I would say that went quite well. No fuss from the council members. No fuss from the king,” Lyla relaxed at the king’s desk, her breeches smattered in blood. Miguel lifted his eyebrows at her, a bit of sweat dripping down his neck. “How about your fiancé? Think she’ll make a fuss? You did slit--”

“¡Callate! Go with the men and take the body to the undertaker.” 

“You’re no fun,” Lyla threw her boots off the desk, guards flanking her side, heading toward the king’s chambers. Miguel replaced his seax in the sheathe, cupping his face in one of his large hands. The door creaked wide open. Jess, whose frame was also streaked in blood, strode in. Miguel threw her a handkerchief.

“Council members are done and dusted.”

He mulled over what was undoubtedly coming: talk of the next steps. Miguel braced himself for her prodding.

“It has been a long time, years maybe since the people favored the king. I dare say not ever."

"What of the imperialists?"

"My guards are posted to suppress those still loyal to the king." 

“I can't imagine they were happy under his rule.” Miguel moved toward the king’s rum cabinet, grabbing a bottle of glass. He sniffs the pretentious liquid, striding around the front and pouring Jess a cup first, then himself. “He did nothing for them but levy heavy taxes. She is the one who handled public relations. They’ll welcome a new king.” 

“Well, it is better to have a warrior king over a puppet king. Even the corrupt will be happy not to fall to Stone.”

He hummed in agreement. 

“About your rule."

Oh, here she goes.

"You’ll marry her before the end of the rose festival. It is the perfect time for romance.” Jess drank her rum, clinking their ringed fingers together in a toast. “Everyone knows of her standing engagement to Stone. We can frame the wedding as an act of love and her father as an obstacle to it. The women will love it.”

“If she’ll have me.”

“Miguel. We agreed. She has no choice.”

The sound of it grated something low in his belly. His fiancé with no choice but to marry the man who murdered her father. Murder was in no way his preferred choice... It was unavoidable. He had no other choice.

“I know.” 

Miguel threw back the rum. He cast a glance to the window, the sun rising over the horizon. She watches him push off the side of the desk, his claws scratching lines of blood behind his neck. He spoke to himself as much as he spoke to Jess with his next words.

“My woman is gentle. I do not know how to tell her-- that I’ve waited a decade to marry her only to force her to."  

Jess had no answers. The king is dead, sang some distant lament, a panic echoing through the halls. He wondered which you would agree to attend first: the funeral or the wedding.

Your mother was assassinated when you were just a girl. Your brothers met their deaths while at war with Stone. That was the nature of war and being a royal. For much of your life, you were accustomed to the pain of loss. Creating connections with your subjects was what you always aspired to develop. You could talk to people in the crown city you knew would be there year after year. Like the willowy brunet who sold you rose oil even after Miguel left. That was why the rose festival was so important to you. 

It was tainted that early morning with the shrill scream of the king is dead-- bouncing off the halls, sending your heart strumming in your chest as you lurched up in your silky sheets, throwing your feet over the bed onto the cold marble floor.

“My father is dead?” you asked one of the two sentinel guards who stood wordless at your door. Gwen was parked in one of your great lounge chairs, rushing to stand upon the sound of your sleep-laden voice. You picked the bottom of your sleeping gown, rushing down from your place on the bed to the double doors. Gwen stopped you short of them. 

“By order of the Chief of the Imperial Guard, I’m afraid you can’t go out, princess,” she spoke smoothly. She cleared her throat. “It is not safe.”  “Safe?” you repeated. “The last man I could call family is dead and you long to speak to me about safety?” 

She steeled her face. Guilt trickled in, inking in her stormy eyes. She strode in front of the double doors, her hand over the pommel of her sword. You couldn’t believe your luck-- not only to be alive, drawing breath, but to at the same time be sequestered in your quarters like a small bird in a gilded cage. 

“Yes, princess. It is for your own good.”

The doors swung open. In place of your father, with his jovial hops, your fiancé. Miguel took measured steps, swinging the door shut behind him. The doors boomed as they came to a close. Like the other sentinel, Gwen took her place in protecting the only feasible exit. Your chambers were high in a tower, looking before the beautiful coast and its silvery waves. You often looked out the window and thought of him.

“I take it you have heard.” 

Something in his countenance set off an air of distrust. His chin was level as if it was cut out of marble, and effortlessly the words spilled from his lips. There had never been a day in your life that you did not trust Miguel O’Hara. That though he was curt, sharp, and decisive, he always bore your best interest in mind. That was something you reconsidered now.

He stood almost too pieced together. Miguel stood in a clean militant uniform, the finest set of regimental you ever did see him in. Any other time you may have drooled over the sight. Over the way he combed his hair back, tickling his broad throat. Or how tightly the shirt fit when he moved forth, then swayed back on his heel. His thumb hooked on the clasp of an iron belt.

“What have I heard, Miguel?” 

“Of the military coup.” 

His words carried no recognizable trace of remorse. They only communicated the facts of your situation.

“You…” you faded off. It couldn’t have been. ”It was you?” 

“I had no other choice.”

Though he said the words, he knew you would find them inadequate. Wholly untrue, even. Your mind buzzed in disbelief, pacing backward to your bed. You glanced at the clothes your maid set out for the day, settled over bundles of fluffy pillows. As the sun raised over the glittering ocean, one that you visited often in his memory, you felt stilted. “I asked you not to--” 

“Talk ill of the dead, yes, I know. I will not.” 

“You missed my point entirely. I asked that you would not blame them for the past. To not dwell on it. You've done just that!” 

It was perhaps an impossible ask to ask a man like Miguel, cocky as he were, to bury the past when your father made such requests of him. You could handle your father’s death by any other means. By an assassination by Jess or the many others who sought his head. With your heart something akin to numb, you dropped onto your bed, scratching at the ribbons laced in your hair from the night before. You pulled them free. Miguel made his way close, bending onto one knee between your own, sliding his gloved hand up your exposed skin. 

“Perdóname,” he spoke candidly. You gazed at him with watery, bright eyes. If anything on this earth could fill him with remorse, it would have been that. He pressed a kiss to your knee. “It had to be done.” 

“You say that but I wonder if you truly understand what those words mean,” you bit out. He appeared contrite, lowering his head lower, if at all possible. “What would you have me do next, hm? I have no more brothers to rule the crown. I care nothing for politics, only the health of my society, and what of Stone? Do you not think he will feel disrespected?” 

“I did it for you.” Miguel simpered. 

“For me? None of this is for me,” you repeated after him, knocking his hands from your knee. You replaced the skirt over the spot he kissed, finding the feeling of his slightly chapped lips blooming blisters of hot anger through your body. “No, you did it for yourself, Miguel. You are so selfish. My father gave you an ounce of power and you repaid him by taking his life.” 

“I am selfish? He gave me nothing but years of pain.” Miguel’s facade cracked, his face going insipid. “I took these positions to please him. For you.” 

“And how is it that these choices are now my fault?” you interrupted Miguel, looking up at his hard features. “Now where do I figure into this-- bloodlust of yours? What do you want of me?” 

“I want you to marry me. You will marry me. You have no other choice.” 

You weren’t going to let him skate by this time. You wouldn’t allow him to be this wonderful, handsome, caring man you fell in love with at first sight as a girl. The certainty with which he said those words was enough. You pushed past him, Miguel snatching your slight wrist in his thick grasp, holding you there. He couldn’t let it be. Not so easily. 

“Get out,” you whirled your wrist around in his grip to break it. He easily could have overcome you, the admiral that he was. You heard the rumors of his swashbuckling run-ins with pirates and saw him in action as a guard. You knew the depths of his strength. He let you slip away. “That is an order from your princess, Miguel. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but it is the rose festival. I have duties to maintain peace that don’t require things such as murder and treason to the crown.”

He snapped his head down, inspecting something wildly interesting on the stony floor. His hands flexed and curled into tight fists, as though he could do or say anything more that would talk you from throwing you out of your quarters. His anger piqued before he absolved it of outward expression, instead speaking with a hard voice.

“We will speak of this again.” 

“Out.” 

He never wanted this. But it was necessary.

Miggy, Miggy, me duele. 

The pain will pass, mi amor. 

The only type of hurt Miguel wanted to give you preceded pleasure. One that could be fixed with patience and doting attention. That was what the rose festival provided nearly eight years ago. Today-- that reality couldn’t be any different from his reality. 

Jess’s military presence was intense. Normally, you could cut bundles of bouncy rosy flowers and interact freely with others attending, creating rose products that could be bought, traded, or sold. Your chamber ladies held wicker baskets jam-packed with long flowers to be given to expecting or aged mothers, a small gift for their motherly worries. A parasol blocked the warm Mediterranean skin from your exposed skin. 

“She looks beautiful today, eh?” 

Lyla nudged him with a sticky creampuff between her fingers. Its rosy pink filling was smeared over her slight lip. Miguel’s arms turned one over the other, not a complaint on his lips. She was right as she usually was. You never wore red-- but the occasions that you did never failed to render him breathless. Unfortunately for him, the long dress hugged your curves beautifully, a fat bow behind your back, the diadem settled neatly along your head. You looked beautiful-- like that night, sliding into a hot bath of nothing but warm petals and rose oil purchased from some overly excited peasant. What he wouldn't give to hold your parasol, or the baskets, to simply be close.

“Suppose you didn’t think this bit through,” she leaned in, whispering words in his ear. “The whole let’s assassinate what’s left of her family.” 

“Shut up,” Miguel pushed off the wall. “If you’re so knowledgeable, help me.” 

“I could do that. Princess!” Lyla waved, rushing over. He followed her like a second shadow, nipping on her heels. Your gaze snapped to hers. A slightly forced smile worked at your lips as you brought your red-gloved fingers to the basket your chamber lady had. He tried to make eye contact-- but found you looked anywhere but his eyes, avoiding him in the cruelest way you could. 

“Lady Lyla, I have something for you.” 

“For me?” she laughed, a teasing thing. “I never receive gifts.” 

“I give you casks of rum.” Miguel protested. You looked at Lyla for a moment, eyes flickering gently, before continuing your search. 

How did you punish him? You look anywhere but at him. You ignore his existence. He longs.

“Yes,” you plucked out a ruby red crown of roses. “Well, girls, perhaps Lyla would like to feel like a woman for once. Trapped on the admiral’s battered and broken ship does not serve for much of a love life. Other than brief encounters at distant ports. Which I am sure you do not care much for.” 

“Eh,” Lyla shrugged off the suggestion, slipping onto a knee so that you could set the crown of flowers on her head. She stands back up, nodding her head appreciatively. “I’ve had relations with some beautiful women.” 

“Oh, please tell,” you took her thin arm and pulled her from his side, pinching your skirt between your fingers and walking on. As if he were fucking invincible-- “I am sure the admiral has taken on many lovers during the years. Have you?” 

“He’s not even had one.” Lyla laughed, “Unless you count his hand.” 

She thought she was so funny. Your chambermaids certainly thought she was, chittering in laughter among one another. He quickly understood that you not only did not want to speak to him but by peeling his-- begrudgingly said-- best friend away from him, you sought to make a point. To make him feel as lonely as your grief made you. In this busy, love-filled festival, he certainly felt it. 

Miguel doesn’t buy things often. But there was something in the way the tiny stick of a man spoke. The glitter in his plain brown eyes invited Miguel to buy the stupid oil treatment that he spilled into his bath now. I think I remember you, you were the princess’s guard, the man said. You bought the princess this treatment years ago!

He couldn’t have remembered it. Miguel abandoned the towel by a gilded chair, sliding his sore muscles into the hot water. He shouldn’t have left to help his men at the docks. His muscles were tight with the tension of moving crates of products onto ships all afternoon and into the late hours of the night. The subsequent days of the rose festival proceeded much the same. It was nearly over. Jess would come soon to press him about his marriage. One that he was not certain would proceed-- not if things kept in this vein. Yet, he couldn't bear to walk to your chambers again, to force you into it.

“I’ve thought about it.” 

Miguel would have jerked out of the bath if not for your hands sinking into the warm waters of the bath. Your gloves were thrown somewhere else, not here, dipping around his broad torso and below the waters. You wrenched your hand around his cock, gently pulling his dick to hardness underneath the waters. It did not take much-- it had been so long. He couldn’t quite process your words with the way you stroked him, milking him as if he were detached from his cock. 

“Miggy."

"Yes...?" he didn't know what else to say.

"You murdered my father because you want to be king,” you said, the words held a vein of resentment. You enjoyed it, stroking the soft skin of his dick, tracing the veins that rushed to his head. You especially loved how he stiffened and grew in your silky hands. Miguel gripped the sides of the bath, his knuckles growing white as he held the rim. 

“I don’t want to be king. I want you, I’d-- carajo-- murder him a hundred times over,” he supplied the truth, the words falling from his lips with great effort. Your other hand sunk lower, grasping his balls in your palm and melding them. You squeezed him in some mock punishment. But it wasn’t-- not nearly. It felt good. He cried out, a small pant of air filling the room. 

“Hush, Miguel.” 

“No-- te necesito. I need you, I’m so fucking-- I’m hard,” your languid circular strokes of his shaft were agonizing and caused him to ache. His nails dug into the side of the bath, mesmerized by how gently you treated him, settling a kiss at the side of his neck. Your pace quickened, jerking him more insistently. The many days at sea that he stroked himself just like this-- with the dream of your hands being the one to do it, to do just this, all culminated in Miguel’s harsh panting, trying to obey-- to be good for you, just as you had years ago. 

“I know you do. You want me to marry you?” you murmured against his neck, tracing his pulse. He dropped his head back, closing his eyes, offering you only a small nod. Your hands drew back, leaving him bobbing in the water, so hard it hurt. So hard-- “Stop it.” 

Miguel complied. You drew back your deep red cowl, drawing the strands loose as you moved in front of him. He bore at you in an incredible amount of awe, his hand pulling at his cock like it were second nature. He pounded into his own hand, so high on the lovely sight before him that it surged in his chest, the beautiful way your nails pulled at the frilled bottom of your nightgown, lifting and pulling it off your body. His mind was a haze, skin warm by the hot oil in the bath. What remained was a desire to be touched by you. 

“¿Qué? I didn’t hear you,” your fingers teetered along your clit, stroking along your wet lips. Miguel soaked his own lips with the hunger that rose from the need to touch and be touched by you. 

“Sí,” Miguel murmured, the words short and slight. You slipped into the water, gripping the rim of the bath and presented your ass to him. Miguel’s eyes caught your puffy lips, flecks of rose matted to your skin. He didn’t dare move-- lest you tell him to get out. 

“Come mount me,” you urged, the words soft, gentle, inviting him to climb over your body. He didn’t know why-- but happiness bloomed in his chest, “Since you murdered what family I had left, you’ll give me more.” 

“Give you… you want me to…” Miguel’s mind fizzled out, all cognizant thought of what you meant left field. In its place was the certainty of what you wanted. You wanted him-- his children. He clambered over you, nudging your lips with his cockhead. 

“Sí, mi amor, I want you to impregnate me.” Your hand reached back, nails clawing into his muscular hip. Miguel flinched, the blunt head of his cock pressed against your entrance. Water sloshed over the rim of the bath onto marble floors. What you asked for was to be used, to be filled. He couldn't equate the depths of your need when just a few days ago you banished him from your chambers.

“Is that so? Then I won’t pull out.” 

“I expect you not to,” you bit back. 

“Fuck,” Miguel murmured, taking his time in sliding forward. He wanted to savor the feeling, the way his cock slid apart walls that hadn’t been used in years. Your body stretched to make room for him, the feeling of burning pleasure dancing down your spine. Miguel gasped, realizing he should have fingered you first-- because your body was tight, so warm and good, full of his cock deep in your belly. You moaned his name, sounding so beautiful in ways that Miguel had only dreamed of in the past few years. 

He snapped his hips in forceful but short thrusts, his fingers gliding up your sides to your breasts, his thumb and index finger rolled and pinched your nipples. “Dios mío,” he found himself panting. “I’ve missed this.” 

“So Lyla says,” you threw back. “Ah, there, faster--” 

“As you wish.” 

You were talking far too much for his liking. His hands snapped down to your core, fingers delving against the clitoral hood, that sweet little spot he knew would cause a weakness in this facade of yours. You gasped, lowering your head down over the rim of the bath, accepting his thrusts with helpless cries of his name, growing in their intelligibility, until felt it more than he heard it. Your pussy spasmed around him, milking him for his seed. Not yet, he wanted to remember the way you cried for him-- for his children. He snapped his hips hard, short thrusts snatching any relief of orgasm far away. 

“Por fa Miggy,” you whispered, something soft and hot. His eyes went wide, failing to focus on anything but your voice. “Don’t be a tease. Give me your seed.” 

He responded with nothing short of a sharp growl, turning his hands onto your hips. He threw his hips forward in a harsh, punishing pace, as if he were taking out every second you punished him out on you now. Water soaked the floor, replaced with the ringing slap of his hips thrown against yours, his heavy balls full of cum that-- seconds later, he released. Miguel choked loud grunts, scratching at your back for relief. You felt his warm seed fill your walls, his chest bowing over yours as he spurt his cum seated against your cervix. His claws drew lines of blood free of your unmarred hips, marks of his claim. 

“Stay-- stay there,” Miguel murmured against your back, pressing small kisses along your back to your shoulder. “If you want a baby, my seed needs to take.” 

Soon enough, Miguel grew soft and fell free from your body, globs of his cum spilling down your thighs. He stepped out of the bath, drying himself off and throwing the towel on the slippery floor. He extended his hand out for you to take. You did, sliding over the crumpled clothes Miguel threw on the floor so that you would not slip. 

“You marry me tomorrow,” you supplied. Miguel’s bushy eyebrows pushed up, suddenly realizing why Jess had not yet come to bother him about his failure to secure a fitting date for marriage. You must have arranged it. 

“What do you mean tomorrow?” 

“Then our honeymoon. I want to have a child in my arms before the year is up, Miggy. You can handle politics, war, Stone. I care not for any of it.” You settled your hand on Miguel’s chest, drawing it down over his firm pecs to the muscles of his stomach. He glanced toward your core, cum soaking your walls. “You have no choice.” 

“You mean to say you are forcing me into marriage?” Miguel bit out, a heavy breath slipping out of his lips when you grabbed him again. Already? You walked him back out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, pushing him onto the silken sheets. He fell with a grunt, catching your body and dragging you on top. Cum from your leaking cunt soaked his thigh. You brought your thumb to his lips, quirking it against one of his fangs. Miguel turned his face to the side, glaring into the dark night.

“As if it were so hard. Now, the correct response is yes, my princess.” 

He chuckled, small and pleased.

“Yes, my queen.” 

Queen did sound so good when it came from his lips. 

[beyondthesefourwalls]

A Change to Everything

Summary: Marriage wasn’t an option for you. Bradley knew this and had promised you that what you had is and would always be enough for him. A few overpriced rings wouldn’t change that, so long as you promised to love him forever without one. But he buys you one anyway, and despite every promise you made to yourself, you wonder what it would be like if maybe, just maybe, you ever decided to put it on. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as an unnamed OC)

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: Talks of a toxic marriage with hints of abuse, anxiety, canon-compliant near death experiences. 

Note: I'm so excited to be posting for this fandom for the first time! I haven't written anything in over a year so I'm a little rusty, but it feels so good to get this out.

The biggest, biggest thank you to @roosterforme​ for all of her help with this! Em, you are the best sounding board a girl struggling to get back into the game could ask for.

_____

“I want to show you something.” 

You looked up from the book you’d been working your way through. Bradley stood at the end of the couch, his eyes soft and focused entirely on you. The look on his face was one he really only used with you - open and unguarded. Trusting. One that came from years of knowing and loving one another. 

Without a word, you closed the book and set it down on the coffee table. You adjusted yourself to sit up a little straighter against the throw pillows as Bradley sat on the edge of the couch beside you. One hand settled on your thigh as the other revealed a small, hunter green velvet box. 

If it wasn’t for the soft squeeze of his fingers against your skin, grounding you like he was always so good at, you were sure you would have choked on the breath that almost got stuck in your throat. You stared at it, processing what you knew it was, heart thudding hard against your chest cavity. 

There was a growing weight of dread and disbelief in your stomach. There was no point in hoping it wouldn’t show on your face; he could see you better than anyone, even when you tried to hide. Especially then. 

“What is that?” 

A small indulgent smile tugged at his lips. The scar near his mouth that you loved to run your finger over lifted with the movement. With one smooth motion he opened the box. Despite the anxiety, the ring you knew would be waiting for you took your breath away. It was a thin, delicate band, lined with small, shimmering diamonds. There was a stunning pear shaped stone snug in the middle. It sparkled under the dimmed light from the lamp in the corner of the room and the dancing flames of the candle you had burning on the coffee table. Even without trying it on, you knew it would fit on your finger perfectly. Once upon a time it was everything you would have wanted. 

“A ring.” 

“Yes. So I see.” Your stomach twisted, but you couldn’t look away. “Why do you have it?” 

“I’m not proposing,” he clarified. At that, you finally lifted your eyes from the stunning piece of jewelry, and were relieved when you heard him snap the box shut. The same expression that was on his face when he approached you remained now, not deterred by the reaction you’d been having. Fleetingly, you thought you felt something akin to disappointment shoot through you, but that was an absurdity in and of itself, so instead you focused on the disbelief of his statement. “I’m sure that’s what it looks like.” 

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. The ball of anxiety that resided in your throat shrunk by a margin. He wasn’t proposing. 

He wasn’t going to leave you when you inevitably said no.

The thought of marriage used to excite you. Like many little girls growing up, you had dreams of a poofy white gown and sparkling diamonds, a tall cake and dancing and standing in front of all the people you knew as you professed your love to the man you’d spend the rest of your life with. And that’s exactly what you got. For a moment, at least. 

At 23 years old, young and not knowing any better, you married a man who swore that he loved you just as much as you believed you loved him. You had been dating for two years and you knew what you were doing. You got the dress and the flowers and a diamond bigger than any 23-year-old should be wearing and that only the old southern money he came from could buy. You got married in a church for a denomination you didn’t believe in but that his mother insisted upon, before God and everyone you knew and even more that you didn’t know.

Things were good. Great, even. For a little while. But only a few months into your happily ever after, things started to change. Outwardly, you were still the Cinderella that got her Prince Charming. But behind closed doors, Prince Charming wasn’t so…well, charming. He would always get a little too drunk. A little too loud. His suggestions for you became demands: wear your hair like this, have it be this color, dress like this, eat like this, hang out with these people, quit your job. Your decisions were no longer yours. You hadn’t realized that taking his last name was the same as signing your life away. You had never regretted anything more. 

You spent five years in a continuous, vicious circle of your own hell. Getting out of it was the hardest, yet best thing you had ever done. You lost everything and everyone in the process, but you gained back your sense of self. 

Now, you looked at marriage like a trap. It was a steel doored cage you would never, ever put yourself in again. You didn’t know if you would survive the suffocation again. 

You met Bradley two years after you signed the divorce papers. He came into your life when you were finally learning to be confident in who you were and what you had to offer again. The smile he gave you that first day didn’t take your breath away; rather, it felt like it finally reinflated your lungs after so long of being deprived. 

Three and a half years together and you knew you would be with him for the rest of your life. 

You would do almost anything for him. But you couldn’t do this. 

Bradley knew that. It was a conversation you had pretty early on, actually. He had told you about his parents and the marriage they had. It felt like bursting a bubble almost when you gently explained that marriage wasn’t in the cards for you again. He had taken it surprisingly well. You had never shied away from telling him your reasoning why. He had promised you then that what you had is and would always be enough for him. A few overpriced rings wouldn’t change that, so long as you promised to love him forever without one. 

It was an easy compromise. 

You hadn’t thought seriously on the subject since. Not when moving in together, or adopting a cat together, or when you picked up your life to move with him when the Navy decided it was time. It hadn’t been necessary to think on or discuss; the matter was a non-issue. 

Bradley’s voice brought you out of your memories. His hand was a nice pressure on your leg, his thumb smoothing the skin on the inside of your thigh a comfort. Back and forth, over and over again, bringing you back into the present like only he could. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d con you into marrying me in a heartbeat if you weren’t so much smarter than me, sweetheart.” 

The smile on his face was playful now. His eyebrows were pulled together in mischief. You couldn’t help yourself; the smallest of smiles pulled at your lips, too. 

“But I know your stance on the subject. We’ve talked about it, and I get it. Despite the absolute rager we would throw as a reception, we don’t need a piece of paper to prove how much we love one another.” 

You didn’t, and knowing that only made you love him more. You and Bradley loved one another in your entirety. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a constant reminder that goodness exists. It injected a honey-like sweetness into your bloodstream. He made your soul warm, and the trust you had between you made you confident in the knowledge that you warmed him, too. 

“So why buy the ring? It doesn’t exactly look like something you could get for cheap out of a gumball machine.” 

“No,” he laughed, “that it wasn’t.” 

He set the box down and grabbed your hand. You always loved how big his was in comparison, though small wasn’t how you felt. 

Safe. Comforted.

“I bought it because….well….I guess because I’m yours. I’m yours, and you’re mine. I love you more than I ever thought I’d be capable of loving someone, you know? And you make me feel like I deserve to be loved like that in return, which you do with no hesitation. What we have…it’s special. So I guess I bought it because I want you to know that if you ever change your mind, I’m ready.  You just gotta let me know. But ring or no ring, I’m gonna love you forever, baby, okay? In this life and whatever comes next. $50 for a marriage license won’t change it.”

You thought on his words for a moment before you nodded and held out your pinky. He was interlacing his with yours before he even knew the agreement, because Bradley would always follow where you lead. Ring or no ring. 

 “If I ever change my mind, I promise to go half on that piece of paper with you.”

“Deal.”

——

Bradley had been called back to Top Gun. It was an honor almost unheard of and even as a civilian you knew it had to be important. It was a 3-4 week deployment; nothing in comparison to what you had weathered together before, but something about it made those weeks feel like years. 

He was the one who called you when it was all over and done with. From your shared bed in Norfolk, you cried as he recounted two ejections; one successful and one that never came. He was presumed dead for nearly four hours before the over-confident blonde you had only ever heard stories about defied every expectation of his callsign. 

It had happened almost three full days ago and this was the first time you had heard about it. 

“Why didn’t anyone call me?” 

He was quiet on the other line but you heard what he wasn’t saying loud and clear.  

You were his emergency contact, yes. The one that would be alerted should he ever wind up in the hospital or the first person they’d look for if he ever failed to report. But you were not his wife, and therefore you were not his next of kin. Your door wouldn’t be the one the United States Navy knocked on, despite it being his door too. A folded flag wouldn’t be placed in your hand as his casket was lowered into the ground. 

You hung up after he promised to call you again when the sun was up, and with the reassurance that he’d be home soon. 

Sleep didn’t find you again. Instead, you thought of Bradley turning around to fly after the man he hadn’t spoken to since his mother’s funeral. You could so clearly see him floating through the snowy trees with his parachute flying above him. You thought of them flying in a jet that hadn’t seen the sky in decades, pulling desperately at ejection handles. You squeezed your eyes shut when you saw that same jet explode into millions of little pieces of glass and metal, Hangman not making it in time to save the day. 

Phoenix would have been the one to call you, eventually. The two of you were fairly close from when they were stationed together before your latest move and she would know that no one else would have alerted you, and as a friend, she would have wanted to check on you, too. You hated the thought of putting that responsibility on her.

A whimper escapes when you realize it would have been three days before you knew.  

Throwing the comforter off of you, you flipped the bedside lamp on before making your way to the closet. 

It was nearing 4am and you found yourself sitting on the floor in front of the fireproof metal safe that you and Bradley kept there. 

It had been six months since you saw the ring. Bradley put it there that night after the two of you made love on the couch, and there it had remained. The green velvet box sat on top of both your birth certificates and beside the case where he kept all the medals that once upon a time belonged to his father. You had thought of it a few times in the last half a year, but hadn’t laid eyes on it again. You didn’t need to, really; you could still envision it clearly in your mind. 

You didn’t move to pick it up. Just seeing the box it was kept in had tears welling in your eyes again. 

You loved him. Oh, you loved him so much that it ached. He was your family and you were his. You were all other had in the name of it and all the other needed, too. You don’t think that you would recover if anything were to happen for him to be taken away from you. You would mourn him so deeply that you’re sure your fundamental state of being would be altered for good. That’s how he would deserve to be mourned, after all. 

It made you angry that a piece of paper would delay that. The government would think there wasn’t anyone to miss him, that he had no one, but you were right here. 

Bradley loved you enough to buy a ring that he knew you would probably never wear, so that he was prepared in the off chance that you ever changed your mind. He was just as happy for it to remain locked away in the back of your closet for the rest of your lives. 

Why, suddenly, did that not feel like enough? 

______

The Uranium Mission came with a lot of changes to your and Bradley’s life. A reconciliation years overdue. An adjustment of time zones and weather patterns brought on by a permanent move from Virginia to California. Having not just Phoenix around on a regular basis again, but a whole squadron of people you could confidently call friends after only a few weeks of knowing them. Suddenly, your found family of two was expanded. 

Despite that, the feeling of something missing hadn’t gone away.

You didn’t tell Bradley about going into the safe that night and how the thought of losing him had you reconsidering every commitment you had made to yourself in the last six years since you started out on your own. He didn’t deserve a reactionary response from you for something this significant and you couldn’t confidently say that’s not what it was. Something that big deserved more than a pre-dawn rash decision. It deserved thought. 

You pondered often what it meant. It was almost always in the back of your mind now. The ring, and all that it would hold. 

You and Bradley couldn’t live on base. It was something you had dealt with in Virginia, but Norfolk real estate was definitely not the same as San Diego. Finding a place to live was difficult. 

The joke was made after the fifth rejection on a house in the same amount of days. You had been living out of a hotel since you arrived two weeks ago and you were tired of being confined to the same four walls. 

“Jesus, maybe getting married wouldn’t be so bad afterall. At this rate, we’re going to be moving into our storage unit.” 

You could feel him staring at you. He didn’t speak, and you focused intently on trying to appear like you were still focusing on scrolling through listings on your laptop. Your cat rested on a pile of blankets in the corner of the small couch the room allowed, dozing the evening away. The TV played an old episode of Unsolved Mysteries in the background. Right when the lack of response from him was veering into awkward silence, Bradley snorted. The sound pulled a smile at your lips. He climbed on the hotel room bed, closing your laptop and stretching to set it on the bedside table. He settled on top of you. You never felt as safe as you did then when his weight pressed into you like this. 

“Can I help you, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” 

He nodded, his face reflecting the utmost seriousness. “We should take advantage of this room while we can, Sweetheart. Something tells me the ventilation in the storage unit won't be as kind to us.” 

You were laughing when he connected your lips. The ring popped into your head again, only for a moment, before he made every thought disappear like only he could. 

_____

You were wearing a fancy dress in an even fancier venue, surrounded by a sea of white uniforms. A promotion ceremony for all of those who partook in the mission that nearly took Bradley away from you. The thought still hurt your heart, but you were so damn proud of the newly pinned Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. 

You had been in North Island for three months, and had finally found and moved into a house six weeks ago. It was a two story home about twenty minutes from base with a fenced in yard you didn’t know you wanted until you had it. Something told you that you and Bradley would be enjoying sunrises, rocking together on the back porch for many years to come. 

This was your first major event on the west coast. You had been introduced to more people than you could possibly recall. For the first time in your relationship, the process annoyed you. Not for the act itself, of course. It was how you were being introduced. 

It had never bothered you before when Bradley introduced you as his girlfriend. When people found out how long you’ve been together, you often got asked when you were finally going to get married. Often, jokes were made on Bradley’s behalf about having the courage to “put a ring on it.” He always took it in stride, the both of you knowing it was really you preventing the progression. 

You were an hour and a half into the night and going through the same conversation for the third time. This time, it was Admiral Simpson’s wife.  

“Four years? My goodness, when’s the wedding?” 

Bradley’s laugh was familiar and you knew what he would say before he said it because you had heard it so many times before. You had always let him handle these situations. A lighthearted response about not worrying because he knew how good he had it and that he wouldn’t be letting you get away anytime soon, followed by a subtle but effective change in subject. Before he could go through the motions, though, you found yourself uttering a response all on your own.

“Oh, maybe one day.” 

It was poised, polite, and said in a way that made it seem like you said it all the time. Mrs. Simpson laughed, none the wiser to how you just went off script. Out of your peripheral vision you saw Bradley’s eyes snap to you so quickly that you momentarily worried about whiplash. 

“How long have you and Vice-Admiral Simpson been married, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

In for a penny, in for a pound, you thought to yourself. You were never one to willingly bring up anything dealing with marriage. Yet here you were, initiating an entire conversation about it. As she went on about their history together and the various moves throughout their 18 years together, Bradley’s left hand squeezed your hip where it had been resting. 

You turned your head, meeting his gaze straight on. For a moment, it was just the two of you here in this room. His dark eyes were wide, earnest, but confused. You knew now wasn’t the time to discuss it. You hoped the look you sent him in return reassured him that you would and that there was nothing to worry about.

There was a barely noticeable nod of his head and he raised his glass of scotch to his lips as he turned back to the conversation. 

His hand remained flexed on your hip. 

You wondered what it would feel like if there was a ring on that hand to press into your skin and if you would be able to feel it through your dress. 

______

There was a tension in Bradley’s shoulders on the drive home that night. He was keyed up in the way he always was when he didn’t quite know what to make of a situation. Anxious, hesitant and searching, but this time there was an underlying feeling of something that resembled excitement. 

You settled your hand over his where it was placed on your thigh. When you came to a red light, you cleared your throat and he turned to meet your eyes. Even in the dim artificial light seeping into the front seat, he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

He cleared his throat. Once, twice. His voice still sounded just this side of rough when he spoke. 

“You’ll let me know?” 

You adjusted your hands so you could interlock your pinkies, bringing them up so you could place the softest of kisses against his. “Only if you’re still willing to go half on the license.” 

You smiled at him and the sound of his soft laughter warmed you from the inside out. The light changed and he pulled his gaze from yours. You let your hands fall to your lap and he took the chance to interlock them together. He squeezed gently. You knew it was his way of acknowledging that yes, of course he would. 

His thumb ran back and forth over the ring finger on your left hand for the remainder of the drive home, and you didn’t bother to smother the smile or the shiver that went down your spine. 

If he noticed as he took it off of you that the dress you wore was the same shade as the box locked away in your closet, he didn’t comment on it. 

_____

He didn’t bring marriage up again in the following few months, and neither did you. It had been over a year at this point since he first showed you the ring, and things had continued as they always had. 

Sometimes, though, you would catch him looking at you. This was nothing new, of course; Bradley wasn’t shy about letting his eyes remain on you for longer than was socially acceptable sometimes. But the look in his eyes was different. There was longing there, a cautious sort of optimism that he hadn’t let you see before. You were surprised when it didn’t scare you away or make you feel guilty for putting it there. Before, it would have been nothing but false hope. Now, though, now it felt almost like an oncoming revelation. 

You found yourself looking at him with that same look, but you were careful only to let him catch you sometimes. It didn’t matter what he was doing. Cooking dinner, doing the dishes, folding laundry, reading a user manual for a multi-million dollar plane he already knew inside and out. Even now, as he laid partially underneath you on the couch, his eyes trained on the mid-fall Sunday football game playing on the TV, something you were usually just as entranced by, you couldn't help but stare. 

Anything Bradley did, you had a hard time looking away. 

Despite swearing you would never, ever do so, you couldn’t help but to compare him to your ex-husband at this moment. 

When you were married, you felt like you were a burden more than anything. A showpiece there to hold onto his arm, but only when he needed it. You were a pretty face and a warm body, micromanaged to the point where even a second out of line wouldn’t be tolerated, yet somehow he never cared about what you did, either. You were a caged bird afraid to chirp.

Bradley, though..he never let you feel like your voice and opinion didn’t matter - he never fought to silence you and instead encouraged the complete opposite. The love he showed you didn’t come with any stipulations. 

Your ex-husband always made you feel small, while Bradley made you feel invincible. Protected, safe, supported, but like you could do anything you wanted all on your own. There was no reason to be afraid when you were with him.

The differences were vast, like black and white and oil and water. 

Clarity washed over you slowly, then. It was a conclusion months in the making. Years, really. 

Bradley was the best man you’ve ever known. He proved time and time again how different he was from the man you were with before him.

Why, then, should you think marriage with him wouldn’t be different, too?

“I’ll be right back,” you kissed his cheek as you untangled yourself from his arms and stood from the couch. By the time you were halfway up the stairs, you were taking them two at a time in your haste to get to the bedroom. You were almost panting by the time you made it to the walk-in closet. Your heart thudded in your chest so hard you could hear it in your ears as you entered the code to the safe. This was it. This was it and you were so excited. You barely remembered to close and lock it back after you retrieved what you were looking for. You practically sprinted across the landing and back down the stairs. 

You were moving so fast and so hard that Bradley was already looking at you when you slid back in front of the couch, hearing you coming before you even hit the stairs. His eyebrows were raised in question, but you didn’t let him open his mouth to question your unusual behavior before you were breaking the silence yourself. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” you said simply. His eyes were already widening as you tossed the ring box to him, as if he knew what you meant without the added assistance. You suppose, if he had thought about it even half as much as you had in the last year, that he did. “As it turns out, the cost for a marriage license in California is more expensive than in Virginia. But I’m still down to split it if you are.” 

He jumped from the couch and then he was kissing you. He lifted you off the ground, spinning you happily. The green velvet box was digging into your lower back where he held you secure against him. You giggled against each other’s lips. When he set you back down, there was a lightness, a joy, that you hadn’t seen in his eyes before. There was a brief twinge of regret that you made him wait so long to experience that feeling; for you to witness it. If he was beautiful before, he is breathtaking now. 

“I can do this properly,” he said, but you were shaking your head before he was even finished. 

“Now is perfect. Just like this. If you want.”

“If I want?” He laughed, incredulous and gleeful. He dropped to a knee with no further prompting, popping the box open as he went. 

“Baby…sunshine….love of my life…holder of my heart and happiness….woman who can get me going like no other in every innuendo of that phrase.”

“Bradley!”

You were both laughing and oh, this was so, so perfect. 

“I love you so much. More than anything in this world and all the others. I’ll love you in this life and the next and the one after that, too. Marry me, baby.”

He didn’t phrase it as a question, but you answered it as one anyway.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

The ring felt wonderful on your left hand. It was enough that you felt it was there, but it didn’t hold the mental weight that the last one did. Instead, it brought a sense of completeness to you. A calmness you didn’t know you lacked. Your heart was so full it threatened to burst.  

You couldn’t wait for Bradley to have one to match. 

------

Main Masterlist

Ending Note: AHHHH!!! I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave any feedback you may have; it really does mean so much! I hope to produce more content for this fandom in the future. These Navy Aviators have a hold on me!

[toms-cherry-trees]

Congrats on 1.5k, Mars!! 🥳

Here's my gif submission for you - maybe something fluffy here with our love, Tommy? 💙

Thank you so much!

I am SO sorry this took so long! Life moves too fast and I do too slow :( I hope this fluff meets the expectations because I went out of my comfort zone to write pure fluff with no dash of angst for angsty Tommy

Mars 1.5K Celebration

The One || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: None really, just Tommy being possessive but in a funny/romantic way and a bit cheeky

Everything is a haze. The autumnal wind pricking your cheeks like fine pins, the rustle of the dried autumn leaves swirling around your feet. Church bells echo far away in the distance, or so it seems, for you cannot hear anything above the thumping in your ears. An unpleasant heat crawls up your spine and settles inside your head, your face blazing as the wooden doors swing open and the gazes of a hundred people or more turn in your direction. All eyes, all attention on you, the quiet noises of the hall come to an abrupt halt upon your arrival. The smiles are on every face; they had all been waiting for you.

After all, you are the bride.

The church is packed; you can only guess who half the guests are. Your entire extended family only makes up a quarter of those seated inside, and the groom’s family is no more than a handful of people sitting in the first rows. Even adding friends and acquaintances, you still can only wonder why there are so many people inside. But everyone smiles at you like they have known you your entire life. You try to smile back, despite your face being barely visible under the exquisite embroiders of the long veil. 

Suddenly, you swing from not being able to feel anything to feeling it all in an overpowering wave. The diadem you wear is too heavy, burdening down the crown of your head and promising a most marvellous headache for later in the evening. Your feet keep catching on the hem of the gown; your grip around your father’s arm tightens, terrified of the meagre possibility of tripping and faceplating in the aisle. You are positive one of your earrings is ready to fall, despite feeling the tight bite of the clasp secured on your earlobe. 

However, it all fades into nothingness the moment you focus your gaze upon the altar. Tommy stands there, dashing in his suit with a corsage of lilies of the valley pinned upon his breast, matching the dainty white flowers from your bouquet, mixed with softly coloured carnations. Arthur stands at his side as best man, a cheeky smirk upon his lips as he leans closer to Tommy to whisper something in his ear, both sets of blue eyes locked on you. 

And then the groom smiles.

He actually smiles, an event so rare one ought to write the date down to never forget such an occurrence. He actually seems to be attempting to hold back, biting his lower lip tight to avoid his mouth from breaking into a full grin. But the closer you come, the harder it becomes for him to hold it back. He stares at your approaching figure like he has just won the biggest prize in the lottery and is just waiting for it to be delivered to his eager hands. 

The moment you are by his side, he lifts your veil and throws it back. Tommy has half a mind to tell Jeremiah to skip the paraphernalia and just go straight to the pivotal moment. Not even bother to ask if anyone opposes the union; that person would find themselves filled with lead in an alley before the end of the day. 

“I am glad to see you came, Mrs Shelby” His warm breath caresses your ear, and even though your eyes are fixed on the priest, you know he is smirking.

“I am not yet Mrs. Shelby sir. I still have time to change my mind. That is why I have the car with engine running around the corner”

Your cheekiness is met with a playful tap of his shoe against your heel “I’d love to see you try to get away from me, love” While the ceremony progresses, he keeps his arm around you, not caring that it is not proper. After all, Tommy had never been one to care for appropriateness and he is not going to start now, now with his little wife so close to being his forever. When Jeremiah asks the crowd if anyone opposes the union, Arthur takes a step forward and points his finger at the masses, as if daring a soul to open their mouth. But no such trouble arises and at last, comes the moment your heart has been in somersaults for.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride”

~

People dance and glide across the dancefloor, glasses of champagne and whiskey coming and going at a dizzying pace. The most formal instances of the celebration had been left behind and the guests are now letting loose. Arthur has his tie around his head and it's being spun in place by John and Finn, just like little children playing ‘pin the tail’, although this seems more of a ‘plunk the drunk’. Ada is engaged deep in conversation with two other women, and whatever it is she is saying, the listeners seem to agree wholeheartedly with her. Polly is dancing with one of your uncles, and you presume by the look in her eyes that their night might end upstairs. 

You sit next to Tommy, his arm lazily thrown over your shoulders while you feed him bites of cake. For you he endured all the silly things, like cutting the cake together, drinking champagne with your arms linked, and he held your hand tight during the speeches to keep himself from tossing a piece of bread at John’s head. He let himself be paraded like a prop for your happiness, and now he relishes on one of those sweet moments where there are only you two and everything else is just background noise. 

“I am glad to see you did not run away, Mrs Shelby” He brushes his thumb down the line of your jaw, tickling your skin in a most marvellous way. The smile makes it to your lips without you noticing; you’ve smiled so often that evening you are positive your cheeks will be numb tomorrow.

“Hm, well yes. I decided that I wanted to try out what you had to offer” Your hand cups his cheek, delicate touch of your fingertips against his sharp cheekbone making him lean into your touch instinctively, his head tilted in the right angle to press his forehead to yours “Besides, the getaway car ran out of petrol”

“If it had not, I would have sent John out to put nails in the tires” His index lifts your chin, the gentle yet firm gesture ensuring you do not shy away from his gaze “You see, once something is mine, I never let it go, even if it tries to escape me” He leans in for a kiss, but you stop it with a gentle touch of your fingertip on his lips

“You see, I am yours now. But that does not mean you get to slack” Your hooded gaze fixates on his lips, still parted and ready for that kiss “You have to do a very good job to keep your wife…fulfilled. Isn’t that what they say? Happy wife, happy life?”

His strong arm falls from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you close so abruptly that even your chair drags across the floor. “Well Mrs Shelby, how about we go upstairs so I can show you how much of a good job I can do to keep you full and filled?”

[nebulablakemurphy]

Total Eclipse Of The Heart (Part 14)

Summary: Jacob Black, alpha of his pack, would never fall in love with a bloodsucker, much less imprint on one. The problem is that Y/N Swan was human…until she wasn’t anymore.

Series Masterlist

When Y/N was younger, she imagined a great many things. She imagined marrying Jacob in a white poofy gown and chowing down on a big cake, while their friends and family cheered.

She imagined how sweet it would be when they finally decided to have a child. A perfect mix of her and the most wonderful person she’s ever known. Long dark hair, chocolate brown eyes and blinding smiles.

She imagined it would take hours or days to bring their child into the world, but she always knew it would be worth it. For this moment.

Carlisle places the tiny russet colored wolf on her chest, covered in blood, which can only be Jacob’s and a silver liquid she assumes to be her venom.

Jacob rubs at the little wolf’s back while they whimper, shivering in Y/N’s arms.

“Shhh, you’re ok.” Y/N whispers, as Carlisle carefully replaces the pieces of her he’d chipped away to deliver their child. She glances up at Jacob, “they’re ok, right?”

Jacob passes a hand over her hair. “Babies cry, honey.”

Y/N nods, wrapping the knitted blanket tighter around their child.

“How are you holding up?” Carlisle asks, still tending to her…wounds.

“I think I’m ok.”

“You’ve done remarkably.”

“Thank you,” Y/N stares up at the ceiling.

“All set.” Carlisle pats Y/N’s knee. “You can sit up.”

Jacob takes the baby, rocking gently as the wolf shifts into a perfect baby boy.

Y/N stands, pushing her dress down to cover herself.

“I’m going to share the good news.” Carlisle excuses himself.

Y/N feels different, though her physical body has not changed.

“Shh,” Jacob hushes their son as he begins to fuss. “There’s mommy.”

The baby is silent then, his wide, dark eyes settle on his mother.

Jacob attempts to hand him over.

“No,” Y/N stops him. “I don’t want to make him phase.”

Jacob’s face falls, “he’s our son.”

“I know,” that’s why she has to protect him, even from herself.

“You’re not gonna hold him?”

“I want to.” Every cell in her body is screaming for him.

“This is going to take some getting used to for all of us. He might phase, but he’ll learn to control it. Just like I did.” Jacob murmurs.

A little fist reaches out from the blanket and the baby begins to cry.

“He wants you.” Jacob hears the thought so loudly in his head.

“Really?” Y/N leans in.

Jacob nods, easing the infant into her arms.

Y/N stares down at her baby, still human and watching her with unblinking eyes. Like he knows her. “He looks like you,” Y/N strokes the baby’s hair. “Both ways.”

Jacob laughs. “Yeah.”

“Sorry I freaked out; but I hate to think I’m the reason he’s afraid or uncomfortable. I’m supposed to be the one who makes him feel safe. I know it’s not personal and it’s not anyone’s fault…I just feel bad.”

Jacob puts his arms around them, around his entire world. “The fact you’re beating yourself up about it proves that you’re actually insufferable.”

“We knew that.” Y/N scoffs, kissing the little hand wrapped around her index finger.

“But it also means you’re a great mom.” Jacob grins, “and I love you.”

“I love you too.” She rests her head against his shoulder.

“So how are you feeling?” Jacob asks, “are we one and done? Or are we having a few more?”

“A few?” Y/N arches a brow, “how many do you want?”

“One more.” Jacob suggests.

“I could do one more.”

The door of Carlisle’s office opens and Renesmee comes bouncing in. “Aunt Y/N! Uncle Jacob!”

“Renesmee, wait.” Bella protests, “hold on a minute.”

“I just want to see the baby,” Renesmee explains.

“Sorry guys,” Bella smiles, “she couldn’t wait.”

“It’s ok, Ness.” Jacob waves her over, “you can say hi.”

“This is your cousin,” Y/N dips the blanket down for the little girl to see. “Rowan.”

Renesmee glances back at Bella. “He’s so little, mommy.”

Bella smiles at her nephew, “he looks just like you, Jake.”

“That’s what she said.”

————————————————————————-

Rowan finds his place in their large, unconventional, family better than anyone expected.

The Cullens love kids, babies, weddings and birthdays. All the human experiences they were robbed of.

The pack welcomes Rowan with open arms, making room for the tiny wolf in their ranks. Showing him love and understanding, most importantly, teaching him to embrace who he is. Turning into a wolf is only weird if you make it weird, after all.

Rowan grows fast, but not as fast as Renesmee who looks to be about six years old at only twelve months.

They are still looking for answers in regards to Renesmee’s rapid aging, but tonight they are at the Cullen’s. Even Billy has joined them, listening to Edward teach Renesmee to play piano.

Rowan pulls himself up, standing beside the couch, leaning on it to stay upright. “Dada.”

Jacob smiles, wide enough to split his face. “Hi,” he takes him into his lap.

“Looks like he’s getting ready to walk there, Jacob.” Charlie says.

“You think?”

“He’s never done it on two legs before.” Y/N passes a hand over Rowan’s baby curls.

“Today might be the day.” Billy grins, “put him down, let’s see if he’ll walk to grandpa.” He extends his arms.

Rowan giggles, opening and closing his chubby fist in Billy’s direction.

“What do you think, buddy?” Jacob whispers to his son, “you wanna walk?”

“Mama,” the little boy says, instead, crawling off Jacob onto her.

Y/N hugs him to her, “I love you, sweet boy.”

“Mama.” He clings to her, bouncing with his little legs.

“Maybe next time, Billy.” Charlie claps his shoulder. “Looks like he’s setting up shop.”

“Boy loves his mama.” Jacob’s father nods, “Jake was the same way with his mom.”

Jacob swallows hard, looking to his wife, who he hasn’t officially married. He’ll never let anything bad happen to her. Never again.

————————————————————————-

Y/N is hovering over at foot of their bed when Jacob wakes. “Good morning.”

“Morning, beautiful.” Jacob shoots her a lopsided grin. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Bella wants to take Ren out to play in the snow. I was thinking we’d tag along.”

“That sounds like fun. Do you mind if I dip out early with Rowan? I promised to bring him down to the rez today.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Y/N smiles.

“Cool.” Jacob returns the gesture. She makes his heart flutter in his chest, even after all these years.

Y/N comes around to his side of the bed, tracing her finger along the slope of his nose. “There is one thing I’d like to do today.”

“What?” Jacob thinks he knows, but he loves hearing her say it.

“You.”

Jacob laughs, pulling her down onto the mattress. They wrestle around playfully, landing on the floor with her pinned beneath him.

“Shhh,” Y/N hushes him. “My dad’s gonna hear us.”

“I really hate to tell you this,” Jacob drags his thumb across her cheekbone. “But I think he knows.”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, “he thinks Rowan was like…immaculately conceived or something. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Whatever helps you not sleep at night, honey.” Jake chuckles.

Series Taglist: @vxidnik @remembered-license @itscheybaby @cole22ann @the-tryhard-twihard @zheezs14 @adaydreamaway08 @xcastawayherosx @moneteguiza @stinkii-boii @theatrechic26 @sylum @irrelevant-86

[allkordelia]

Keep Me Near Your Heart 1

Jaenara chewed her bottom lip as her eyes flickered around the room, wondering why so many people had to come. It was difficult to see where her family was amidst the crowd, the last person she had spotted was her aunt leaving the great hall, followed by her great uncle a few minutes later.

Growing tired of the feast, her feet ached from the small heels her mother had forced her to wear, and the dress her step-grandmother had made for her felt tight and itchy on her mid-back. She walked through the crowd, giving small smiles and curt nods to guests who congratulated her on her marriage while trying to find Alys or Alyssa.

It didn't feel like she had gotten married. It felt like another obligatory celebration she had to attend. If it weren't for the guests approaching her to offer their congratulations, it would have felt like any other family gathering. However, there was a tense and awkward ambiance between Jaenara's family and Aemond's family. Everyone else seemed to be having a good time, except for her. She doubted anyone cared about how she felt.

"Thank the gods. I finally found you..." Jaenara turned her head at the sound of Alys's flat voice as she approached. Alys wore a timid smile, her hands clasping the skirt of her crimson gown.

"Thank the gods that you did," she replied, smiling at Alys and looping their arms together. Alys gave a small smirk before she led them through the crowd of guests.

"So..." she eyed Alys as she spoke, then looked away, "...are you...having fun?" Alys asked.

"It's...yes, I am..." Jaenara gave Alys a small smile. "I have met a lot of people...and...um, everyone's so nice, so..." she trailed off, casting her eyes down. She couldn't bring herself to finish the lie she had been telling the lords and ladies, and she doubted Alys would believe it anyway.

"It's a bit draining," she said as they stopped and turned to face each other. "I think I will retire early." Alys nodded with a thoughtful look.

"I think I will too... I can spend the night in your chamber and we can stay up and talk," Alys suggested, smiling. Jaenara smiled back at Alys, grateful for the offer.

"Really? That would be great," Jaenara said, Alys's smile widened before quickly turning into a scowl. Jaenara tilted her head at her friend and reached out to touch her upper arm. "Hey, what's wrong-"

"I hope I'm not interrupting," a familiar deep voice interrupted. Jaenara turned in surprise to see Aemond standing there, she moved to stand beside Alys to look up at aemond.

"Of course not, uncle. We were just about to go to bed," Jaenara said, glancing over at Alys.

"Hmmm, I am feeling a bit tired myself. I'll escort you," Aemond said, his hands behind his back and a placid look on his face. Jaenaea glanced at Alys, who glared at Aemond before looking back at him.

"W-Well, uncle we--"

"Aemond," he said, making Jaenara purse her lips. "Or husband, if you prefer it." He jests as the corner of his lips lifts slightly, displaying a faint smile.

"O-okay, Aemond..." Jaenara started, and Aemond tilted his head slightly to the side, returning to his usual blank expression. "...but I already have an escort." She looked over at Alys with a small smile, and Alys looked back at Jaenara with a similar expression before Jaenara turned her gaze back to Aemond, who narrowed his eyes at Jaenara before glancing at Alys.

"But, it is our wedding day. We must go to bed together," Aemond said, and Jaenara frowned.

"Must we?" She asked, and he nodded, causing her to turn to Alys. She looked back at her cousin with a sad frown. "Maybe she can join us," she suggested after a moment, turning to look back at Aemond.

Aemond spluttered, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. "S-She cannot come to our marital bed. It is profane...and it has to be only us," he said, and Jaenara let out a disappointed moan before looking at Alys to bid her goodnight. However, alys stepped forward, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Then, I will sleep on the couch," Alys insisted, making Aemond look at her, confusion furrowing his brows.

"That is not the issue. Jaenara and I must consummate our marriage together and alone," Aemond explained. Alys furrowed her brows, clearly confused, as Jaenara frowned.

There's that word again. She remembers asking her mother about it when she was getting ready, but she said it wasn't an important subject to talk about at the moment.

"Consummate?" Alys mumbles to herself, pulling Jaenara from her thoughts as Jaenara looks at Alys and then at Aemond, he chuckles low moving his hand to scratch at his cheek below his eyepatch.

"You will learn what is it once you are married, cousin." Aemond chuckled again making Jaenara and Alys look at each other before looking at him, "Now, come along wife." Aemond says moving to hold out his arm for Jaenara to take, I look at him for a second before looking at Alys who wears a small frown.

"I'll see you in the morning, you sit next to me at breakfast, right?" Alys looked at Jaenara again before smiling at her.

"Of course." Alys moved to engulf her cousin who thought as a sister in a hug making Jaenara hug her back, "Sleep well." She says before they pull away from each other.

"Goodnight, sister." Jaenara moves from Alys's grasp to grab hold of Aemond's arm.

Alys wiggled her fingers sadly at Jaenara as Aemond pulled her along, jaenara gave her cousin one last smile before turning to follow Aemond out of the great hall. They walk in silence as he guides Jaenara through the halls toward their new quarters, jaenara glances at him from the corner of her eye from time to time to admire how grown up her uncle has become.

He has grown tall. He looks so different yet his demeanor remains the same, he wasn't the small boy who used to pick on her and put dirt in her hair. He seems more mature and wise. And frightening.

Jaenara stopped glancing at him and focused her eyes on her feet, she counted in her head every step that she took until she was interrupted suddenly by Aemond.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" His deep smooth voice made Jaenara turn her head up to look at Aemond as he turned to look at her.

"Um, yes...it was nice" she replied meekly, aemond hummed before looking away from her making Jaenara chew her lip as they fell silent again for a moment before Jaenara broke it, "How about you? Did you enjoy yourself, my prince?" She asks trying to make small talk, Aemond turns his head to look at her again.

"It was fine. The only thing that kept it from being dreary was watching baelor and corwyn try to out-drink Aeron." Jaenaea hummed.

"Who won?" Aemond looks at her with a small grin.

"Aeron. But, only because corwyn passed out and baelor retched all over himself before he could finish his drink." She grimaces.

"Ewww." She drawls out causing Aemond to let out a soft chortle, she stares at him in awe at how youthful he sounded.

Sometimes she forgets he's just one spring older than her, the scar where his eye used to be makes him seem older. He also looks handsome. Jaenara usually never noticed that before in men, aemond was truly beautiful, so why did he choose her to marry? When coming here she expected him to be so cruel to her, especially after what jacerys told her. Jaenara couldn't remember a lot before, but now little pieces come from time to time. Some good. Some bad. It did answer a lot of questions that she wanted to ask but was too nervous to do.

Aemond turned his head slightly to look down at Jaenara making her catch his eye, she realized she had been staring at him for quite some time now making her look away quickly as her face heated up embarrassed.

Training her eyes to her feet again, after a moment she glanced back to look at him to see him smirking with a smug look. Jaenara cast her eyes away and looked ahead as they turned the corner and two knights came into view as they stood by a door.

"Ser Krey. Ser Ashford." Aemond spoke making the knights turn their heads to look at them.

"My prince." They said in unison bowing their heads at him, the knight with dark black hair poking out from under his helmet lift his head catching Jaenara's eye.

His green eyes widened a bit making her give him a curious look as to why he was staring at her like that, did she have something on her face, she wondered. She moves to brush her cheek with her hand before dropping it to her side, the young knight blinks at her before casting his eyes somewhere else.

"This is princess jaenara velaryon," Aemond introduced her, "My wife." Jaenara looks at him as he stares down at her with a small smile making her mirror him before he turns away to look at the knights again, "Is our chamber ready?" He asks causing the older knight with a brown beard with a flicker of grey in it to answer.

"Yes, my prince." Aemond hummed.

They stood silent making her glance at Aemond as he stared at the door as if waiting for something, jaenara glanced at the older knight as he cleared his throat before casting his eyes over to the young knight who was sneaking looks at her.

"Ser Krey." The knight known as Krey looks away from Jaenara to the other knight.

"Hmm?" Ser Ashford motioned to the door making a look of realization dawn on Krey, "Oh, yes, sorry." He mumbled as he stepped from his post and opened the door for Jaenara and Aemond.

"After you, dove."

She looked at Aemond slightly surprised at the nickname, a warm feeling crept up to her chest and spread up her neck to her cheeks, he stared at her with a patient look waiting for her to go ahead. She cast her eyes away from his intense violet eyes before she pulled away from him and held the skirt of her white gown as she saunter ahead not before looking at Krey whose eyes were focused on the floor as she passed him.

Jaenara stopped midway in stepping inside standing at the edge of the threshold and looking in awe at the spacious room, this was to be my new apartment, she stepped in further spinning as she looked around the room.

She turns to look at Aemond to find him whispering to Krey, the young knight downcast with an expressionless look. When he lifted his eyes he looked right at me making me look away, she went back to admiring the decor of the apartment taking in the lit parlor.

"Do like it?" Aemond asked making her turn around to see him walk towards her, the knight was gone and the door was closed leaving us alone. Together.

"Oh, yes it's lovely." Aemond hummed with a small smile as a look of pride played on his features.

"Mother thought the dark colors would be too much," He said looking around, jaenara followed suit as she took in her surroundings.

"I prefer it, it reminds me of dragonstone a little bit." She looks at him at the same time as he looks back at her.

Aemond hummed with a nod, "Well, let me show you to our chamber." Aemond took her hand guiding her toward a double door with two handles shaped in the form of two dragons, he let go of her hand and pulled the doors open before stepping aside to let me go in.

The chamber was nice and lit as Jaenara looked around the room, she passed by a sette to the wardrobe on the wall just by my bed and opened it seeing multiple gowns in different colors mostly green that didn't belong to her.

She felt a tug on her back making her turn around to grab Aemond's wrist as he tried to loosen her gown, he looked at her amused as she looked back at him startled.

"What are you doing," she ask unsettled.

"Helping you out of your gown, you can't go to sleep in it, can you?" Aemond raises his brow at her

"I...I usually have a servant do it."

"Well, we could wait but that would take a while since all the servants are still at the celebration and I know how tired you are." Jaenara frowns in thought, she doesn't think she can wait, my feet are in agony, and every second she's in this dreadful gown is like having a needle stab her in the ribs.

Jaenaea slowly let go of his wrist making him smile at her before motioning for her to turn around, she did what he wanted as she waited for him to untie the gown, she looked for a nightgown to wear to bed. Her hand shoots to her chest stopping the gown from sagging and falling onto the floor, he moves on to loosening the corset as she takes the first nightgown she sees and she stares inside the wardrobe trying to ignore aemond.

"...there." He finally said, jaenara held the nightgown to her chest as she turned to look at aemond, but his eyes weren't looking at her but rather somewhere else.

"W-Where can I change?" She asked meekly making aemond clear his throat and glance at her before looking away.

His throat contracted as he pointed over to the other side of the room making me turn my head over to where he was pointing to see a screen divider, a soft sigh escaped her as Jaenara shuffled over to the screen quickly still feeling Aemond's eye on me. She threw the nightgown on the screen and took my heels before pushing my wedding gown down so it could land on her feet, she did the same to the corset and took her nightgown and slipped it over her head and through her arms before pulling it down making it fall to her knees. She left her gown and heels on the floor as she stepped out, her hands were finished unbraiding her hair so it could fall loose on her shoulders when she saw aemond already in bed with no tunic.

She turns her back to him when he smirks at her, why was he wearing no tunic, jaenara'a thumb goes to her lips as she bites her nail. She doesn't know what to do, she understands she must share a bed with him, they are husband and wife after all, but why is his tunic off? She doesn't know what to do, what should she do.

Think, Jaenara. Think, Jaenara.

"Oh, sweet wife. Are you coming to bed?" His words sounded taunting to her ears, jaenara looked over to the door in thought, maybe she could sleep on the couch, "Come to bed, jaenara. Or do you want me to tell your mother you're being a bad wife?" He taunts her again making her grimace at the door, the last thing she wants is for her mother to be angry at her.

Jaenara slowly turned around my eyes focused on the ground as she ambled around the sette to go over to the bed and stand by the space beside aemond, before she could move the covers aemond did it for her making me stare at the white sheets. She slowly climbed up on the bed pulling the covers over her legs and abdomen before laying on my back, she turned my head to the window across from her to see how dark it was outside.

Suddenly, the bed shift made her turn to look at Aemond before looking away when her eyes caught his nake back, she trained her eyes above as aemond moved around. Before she knew it the canopy surrounded the bed, she glanced over as aemond pulled the curtain back to get in bed again making to look away. Aemond settled in next to me she could feel his arms press against her own as he lay down.

She closed her eyes hoping sleep would find her, but as she lay there aemond shifts in the bed.

"You don't know what consummate is, do you," Aemond spoke in the dark making her stay silent, a chuckle filled the air between them, "I'm surprised you didn't ask, you were such a...curious little bird, swan." She open her eyes and turn to look at aemond, the light coming through the slit of the curtain made her able to see him laying on his side watching me.

"How do you know about it," Jaenara asks.

"The maester, mostly. But, I have been to the tapestries and among other places to know what I have to do." She nods slowly before looking away, "...I can tell you if you want," he says, she drags her eyes from the covers to him, and her throat constricts as she thinks.

"...why would you do that?" She asks meekly.

"You are my wife, why wouldn't I?" Even though it was dark her eyes looked over to Aemond's missing eye, she looked away when aemond shifted in the bed next to me, "...what happened to me doesn't affect you, it was your brother who did it, not you."

"Yes, but he is still my brother nonetheless. His sins are my sins." Aemond made a sound of disagreement.

"No, his sins are his sins, I hold no ill will towards you, dove." She sighs.

"My brother was protecting me, you would have done the same if Helaena was in my spot, would you not." Aemond was quiet, jaenara looked over at aemond as he lay on his side with his elbow keeping him up, she hoped she didn't make him angry, "Aemond?" She whispers gently calling out for him.

"...you are right I would have done way worse, but I still stand by my words, you shouldn't feel obligated to hold your brothers's sins. Not when they don't share your blood entirely." His words burned her ears, she sat up leaning against the headboard glaring at him through the dark.

"What does that suppose to me." She snaps.

"I think you know--"

"No, I don't." Jaenara resorted, her anger was slowly peaking she shouldn't let herself get angry, her brother warned her that aemond would do this, "....whatever I'm tired going to bed." She scoots back down on the bed and turns her back to aemond, she puts the cover on her chin as she closes her eyes to go to sleep.

"Jaenara." She stayed silent, "Jaenara, do not be like this...we still need to consummate--"

"You can do it by yourself." She resorted, it was quiet for a second before she heard aemond chortle making her furrow her brows.

"...silly dove, it must take two to perform this ritual, you must think of it like dancing...but in bed." Jaenara stayed quiet thinking, she was curious to ask more about it but her anger outweighed her curiosity, she wasn't in the mood to talk to him not after what he said, this night had already dragged on long enough all she wished was it to end.

"...jaenara, sweet dove..." she felt his hand grazes her arm, "...do you want me to apologize for what I said." He asked she remained quiet, there was no point in asking that if he wasn't going to mean it, "...jaenara, I'm sorry for what I said, I should have never said it."

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," Jaenara could feel the heat radiating off aemond as he moved closer.

"Can you find in your heart to forgive me, sweet dove?" She didn't reply she had two things nagging at her to go to sleep and ignore aemond, she growled lowly moving to lay on her back, and stared up at the bed.

"Why do you keep calling me that," She asked.

"What? Dove?" She nodded her head but when he didn't answer she spoke up.

"Yes."

"Oh, well...you remind me of a dove," he says making her turn her head to look at him.

"How so."

"Well, doves are considered kind and loyal birds, and you...remind me of them. You are sweet and loyal and  trustworthy and beautiful, that is why you are my sweet dove." She blinked dumbly in the dark speechless, he thought that of her, he thought she was beautiful.

"You think I'm...beautiful?" She turned to lie on my side.

"Of course, I do...who wouldn't your beauty outshine all the maidens in the seven kingdoms." He says, "You will have to be a fool to ignore it, but that is not why I wanted to marry you. It was your kindness that drew me, I will always remember what you did for me when I was a boy."

Jaenara knew what he was talking about, aemond and her don't share a lot of memories, not good ones anyway, but there was one time when she was young and aemond lost his egg. The poor baby wasn't strong enough and aemond was very upset about it the entire week, nothing could have brought up his mood, not sweets or new books not even going dragon riding with baelor. The boy was dolorous and aegon along with some of their other cousins didn't help when they picked on him about it, he took to spending his time alone and away from everyone. She always felt bad for him when she saw how sad he was about his egg, she knew how he felt. So, when his tenth nameday came around, she was given an egg by her aunt rhaelle and uncle when they heard her egg didn't hatch.

She gave up her egg to him as a gift, and he was shocked, to say the least when she gave away her egg. Jacerys along with their cousins and aegon said she was stupid for doing it. But, she didn't care she wanted aemond to be happy, not sad anymore, and he wasn't.

"I'm surprised you remember that," She said. 

"How can I forget it, you were the only one besides helaena and my mother who showed me any lick of kindness." Jaenara looks away shyly.

"I did what I felt was right, it was nothing," She says.

"You have no idea how wrong you are, sweet dove." He whispers back in the dark, "I want to show you how grateful I am that you showed me such kindness." He says as he moves to crawl over her.

[starythewriter]

Vinnie hacker X Y/N: casino night

TW: rough sex.

“You can tell me anything. You know that right?” He asks softly from where he sits on the edge of her bed. She turns towards him and looks into his eyes, “I know. I trust you. And this isn’t something we need to worry about right now.”

Her heart is racing. The adrenaline rush she felt last week when she realized that Vinnie was back in town, the one that made her run out of her apartment at 3 am with only a pair of pants and shoes, the adrenaline still running through her veins as if she had just gone a round in an Olympic match, or even during their first kiss. It feels good knowing that there's nothing to fear anymore. That no matter how much her heart flutters, her brain will always manage to keep a cool head under pressure. It makes it easier to think rationally. But it also means that they have more time together. She needs all the time possible because there are so many things she wants to ask him before the next couple of weeks pass by without them talking for any longer than necessary. There are so many things she wants to do. She wants to take his hand. She wants to kiss his neck again. She wants to be able to hold his hands in hers. but vinnie hasn’t been around ever since he left… but he’s invited me to a casino night. Her stomach drops at the idea. She knows he wouldn’t do that if he didn't want to see her. But he’s probably going to see other people. She has no doubt that his reputation is enough of an attraction for most women to go to the casinos with him. Especially given how well known he is. If someone sees us, we won’t have any privacy anymore. The thought leaves her feeling slightly nauseous. She doesn’t know what would happen if they were caught. What would happen to the rest of their lives? She knows they aren’t married, but if they get caught, what would their families say? Would they disown them? she tried to shake that feeling off… she accepted the offer and prepared her gown. This might be our chance to prove to the world that we’re not broken. We don’t need to hide behind anyone’s expectations. She can’t help thinking that if it’s just them, then maybe she could be able to make her feelings known. She can try. She’s willing to risk everything. She’ll follow him tonight if it means seeing him again, even if it’s just once. If he wants her, then why should she be scared? She tries to convince herself that maybe she’s getting ahead of herself. Maybe this is the best thing to do. Vinnie has never done anything to hurt her and she knows that he really loves her. Maybe they should just go to the casino and dance and talk and maybe even make out on the table. She can handle that. She has to. She’s not afraid of Vinnie. She wants to know the truth. She just doesn’t know where he stands anymore. If he wants her too. she got ready.

*timeskip*

*morning*

it was the next morning and she was scared. however she had already got ready. she got a call from

him as she ordered her taxi and was on her way to the event. She had no choice but to accept the invitation since she was already there, so she decided to meet up with him after he arrived. she was sitting at the bar when she saw him, a smirk playing on his face. she couldn’t resist smiling back, even though she was nervous. Vinnie approached her, “hey. Sorry I haven’t stopped by to see you sooner. Been busy, y’know. You look great, by the way” he smiled, putting his arm around her. she relaxed at the gesture. she let herself lean against him. “Thank you. You look very nice yourself.” she turned towards him and kissed his cheek, “are you okay?” “yeah just… wondering about what the press will think” she sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the bar in front of her. she looked over to Vinnie who seemed to be deep in thought. “I’m sure they won’t bother you. They know you’re a player, remember?” he chuckled. She nodded, looking down at her drink. he leaned closer to her, “come on… let’s dance.” she nodded and stood up. They danced slowly, trying not to step on anyone’s feet. When she looked over Vinnie’s shoulder she noticed some reporters watching them intently. she quickly glanced back at Vinnie, “maybe we should sit somewhere else.” He agreed and sat at another stool at the bar, motioning for her to come and join him. she took a seat opposite him. “this place is amazing, y’know. I haven’t been here in forever.” She shrugged. “It’s a small place.” she commented, taking a sip of her champagne.

she slowly brushed her fingers across his crotch teasing him. she knew exactly what buttons to push to make him squirm. she could feel his dick growing hard underneath his clothes. she loved it when he was turned on. it usually ended up making him forget about their problems, especially when he came.

he placed his hand on top of hers, “Y/N, if you continue like this, I will lose control.” He breathed heavily. she smirked and moved her hand further up his leg, caressing his thigh. “I promise that I won’t touch your penis unless you want me to” she teased. she ran her hand across his cheek and down his neck. he shivered and licked his lips, “what did you have in mind?” he asked. she leaned towards him and whispered in his ear, “I’ve always wanted to see you come.” she pulled away and gave him a seductive smile. she bit her lip and watched as he swallowed thickly, “i want to fuck you right here… right now.” She laughed, “oh yeah? what are we waiting for then?” she replied with a seductive wink, “how do you feel about going to your room?” he suggested, leading her upstairs.

Chapter 2

Chapter Two: the room

The room wasn’t big, but it was pretty. They could hear the music downstairs, which was loud enough to block out whatever sounds they heard in their own rooms. Vinnie pushed her towards the bed and she climbed onto it, giggling excitedly.

Vinnie leaned over and began kissing her neck, trailing his teeth along the line between her collarbones, leaving soft marks as he went. His kisses started from her shoulders down her chest until he reached the waistband of her jeans. he pulled them down slowly, revealing her black lace panties and black stockings. he removed them completely, pulling her underwear down as well. he tossed her panties aside and slipped his finger inside of her, causing her to moan in pleasure. he slid two fingers inside of her and began thrusting his hand in and out of her, sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. she was moaning loudly and reaching her climax as she felt his tongue swirling around her clit.

she was almost panting when he suddenly pulled out of her. She opened her eyes and saw him staring at her hungrily. “you’re beautiful…” he murmured, cupping both sides of her face. he bent down and pressed his lips against hers. it felt incredibly good. the way he kissed her, made her feel so alive, so free. she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer as he kept moving in and out of her. She could feel her orgasm building and she desperately needed release. she reached her hand down his pants and began stroking him. he groaned and pressed himself harder into her hand as she squeezed him tightly. he grabbed her wrists and held them above her head while he continued to kiss her furiously and roughly. she moaned loudly as he increased the pace of his movements. she began to feel dizzy and closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall into the blissful void. She began to feel more than a little dizzy, but she couldn’t stop because she didn’t want to. she tightened her grip on Vinnie’s hair as she felt herself coming. she could taste herself as her orgasm began to build. It had been so long, so many years… she hadn’t been able to feel anything like that for so long. She felt like crying.

she collapsed on top of him, exhausted. Vinnie lay still for a moment before he raised himself off of the bed and lifted Y/n into his arms. She wrapped her legs around him, pressing herself against him as she laid her head on his chest. he carried her down the hallway to his bedroom.

he carefully put her down on his large mattress and pulled the sheets up to her chin. He walked out of the room and returned a few minutes later, with a glass of water and a pill.

the end!

[eldritch-spouse]

How would Belo be with a cult leader s/o?

She already has followers consisting of both monsters and humans who rave about how perfect she is, and they think Belo is a testament to that.

I mean, not just anyone can receive the affection of an angel; she must be akin to a god!

There is a hierarchy in the cult, and Belo is at the top of it. He can rest his head on her lap and watch as the others worship the very ground his lady walks on (he doesn't have a choice; the leader demands it this physical contact, otherwise she will be unhappy the whole day).

They validate Belo in every thought he has of his lady and also obey him as he is basically the leader's right hand (or so he believes, but in reality, they respect him so much because he is their leader's precious).

And what if more angels started coming out of the woodwork to serve his lady? If he was able to handle the cultists, surely this would be a stretch.

I can just imagine the cultists praising Belo as they dress him up in lingerie fitting to their leader's taste, then tie him up, mindful of his wings, and leave him in his lady's quarters. His lady comes in and gets on top of him, caressing his wings and whispering something about being her 'pretty little canary' and 'give yourself to me, show me your devotion.'.

This is the ideal situation for Belo.

Unlike most angels, who tend to have a mindset favorable to sharing with other celestials, Belo gets intoxicated when he realizes he's the only holy entity in a location, that he no longer has to share, that his tier hardly matters because he's the only celestial present and automatically the authority in a plethora of matters. He feels special in a way he never has before and his ego swells almost incomprehensibly.

Which is exactly why he's living his best life in this situation. Not only are you a sacred being, your generosity blinds you to the misdeeds of your own following. My Lady they are clumsy, obliviously disrespectful, they hold no discipline! Someone who is built to serve and protect needs to teach them how to behave, how to conduct themselves before you and how to make sure that your love is not for naught.

It's only right that Belo be the only one allowed to touch you. His holy nature makes him incapable of corrupting you, and others live through him their own lecherous, selfish fantasies of being your favored.

With him at the helm of many secondary areas and tasks, your cult blossoms like the loveliest lotus and gains a level of steadfast efficiency previously unforeseen.

The arrival of other angels... Complicates things. They're immediately perceived as threats to Belo's position.

You may not know this, but he's only a power. If there's a dominion, throne or, Eden forbid, a seraphim... By their own laws, Belo could have to step down and allow the worshiper-tiers to overrule him in the hierarchy.

And he goes half-mad at the idea.

That's not happening.

No tier can understand and service you better than him, and Belo will personally confront the more powerful celestials about this. There is a very special balance here, in your wonderful garden of light, where the rank of an angel is not what makes them worthy of your love and guidance. Belo may be just a power outside of these blessed grounds, but in them, he is your second in command, your favored, your fighter, your whorshiper, your guardian. He's your everything.

And though he may celebrate the arrival of more angels beside you, he makes sure they always remember their place.

He's determined to keep this perfect balance.

In your name, he thinks as he placidly remains in position, bottom eye counting the patterns on his service gown and the jewelry on his spread wings, everything in your name.

This won't be like before. He's doing so much better now, the cultists are behaving perfectly, the workflow is stable and satisfactory, the other angels are impeccable. You wouldn't leave them. Not when everything is immaculate, when mistakes are non-existent. This time will he different.

You enter the room, and his thoughts vanish.

[propertyofkylar]

princess kylar thigh worship fic?

worshiping the princess - f!kylar x gn!pc

word count: 1827

tags: royalty au, thigh worship, cunnilingus, dubcon, bit of yandere nonsense, i cannot help but tease kylar whenever i see her it's a disease

“Seize them.”

That was the first and last thing you had heard the princess say, and now you were jailed in her castle. You were sure you hadn’t been behind bars too long, but it was nearly impossible to tell. It didn’t help that you were entirely alone here, too. It seemed this princess didn’t frequently imprison anyone. So why you?

In your travels, you had become somewhat familiar with this kingdom. Princess Kylar was the ruler, and there were many rumors floating around about what had happened to the king and queen, most seeming very unlikely to be true. But you weren’t sure. Anything was possible. 

You were mulling this over when the princess herself approached the bars. At first, she said nothing, merely looked at you. You figured you may as well look back, and so you studied Kylar. 

She was a pretty young woman and very small. She wore a dark gown that looked old and tattered and her long hair was tied back with a bow that was equally tattered. The princess’s face was so close to yours that you could count every freckle on her nose. Her green eyes bore into yours and her long eyelashes fluttered with every blink. 

Eventually, she gave a simple nod. And then, surprisingly, she unlocked her cell. 

Before you could react, her small hand wrapped around your wrist. It was soft and clammy. Feeling bewildered, you looked at her again. Kylar huffed. 

“Would you rather be locked in there forever?” She said, starting to walk and tugging you along with her. 

“Um…no,” you said, rather lamely. To be honest, you weren’t sure what you had done to justify being locked up in the first place. But this princess seemed temperamental, so you figured you better not risk anything by speaking out of line. 

“That’s what I thought,” she muttered, and you got the feeling that despite her demeanor, this entire interaction was making her quite nervous.

You opted to stay quiet as she led you through the large castle, which was rather empty and everything seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dust. Aside from the odd servant here and there, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in here. 

Kylar took you into what you realized were her quarters. Having never been inside the bedroom of royalty before, you were taken aback by how messy and disorganized it was. You had always pictured a princess’s bedroom to be neat and clean. But Kylar had random bits of clothing tossed all over and drawers that were slightly ajar. There were also various novels scattered about, and you idly recognized some as being steamy romances. Interesting. That didn’t seem befitting of royalty. 

The princess closed her door behind the two you of you and the air became thick with awkward tension. What the hell was going on here? You were so caught up in how odd this entire castle was that you only just now realized - what the fuck were you doing in the princess’s bedroom?!

Kylar uncomfortably cleared her throat, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “So,” she began. “You’re probably wondering what you’re doing here instead of being locked up.”

“Well, yes,” you replied hesitantly. 

Forcing her head up, Kylar looked directly in your eyes. “I have decided you seem useful. You have a handsome face. I think there are better ways for you to serve out your sentence.”

You said nothing, letting her continue. Kylar sucked in a deep breath before saying more. 

“You will stand by my side and assist me in…whatever ways I need,” Kylar’s face flushed as she spoke, and you quickly realized what exactly she mean. 

“What?” You couldn’t help but let your shock slip out. Was this princess really suggesting you be like some…some sort of prostitute?

Kylar clenched her fists and looked away. “You don’t have to. But if you decline I will make it known that you have committed many grievous crimes and should be locked away permanently. Or maybe you would rather be executed?”

Your blood ran cold at that. Was she serious? You didn’t know much about her, but she did seem a little scary. She might really be willing to kill you…

“No,” you said quietly, clearing your throat. “No, I don’t want that.”

“Good,” Kylar replied with a smirk. “Then you should kneel.”

You immediately dropped to your knees in front of the haughty princess. She wasn’t very tall, but looking up at her still invoked fear within you. She was quite intimidating.

“Excellent. You’re a good listener,” Kylar was acting tough, but her voice was shaking a little still. She moved over to her bed and sat down on the edge. You quickly realized she wanted you to follow her and so you awkwardly crawled over. Several beats passed before she hiked up her skirt, revealing her bare thighs and a thick bush of hair. Her face turned red as she struggled to remain composed. 

“Touch me.”

Her words, while unsteady, were commanding. You weren’t sure why she was making you do this, or how the hell you ended up kneeling before a now half-naked princess. But her thighs were rather mesmerizing. They were thick and even-toned, and looked very soft. And having lived the life of a bandit, you were aware there were many worse experiences out there than being forced to pleasure a beautiful princess.

So, tentatively, you reached your hands out to grip her thighs. Kylar whimpered as soon as there was skin-on-skin contact. Your initial thoughts were correct - her skin was incredibly soft and smooth. Befitting a princess, for sure. You began to lightly stroke her thighs, as gently as possible, and noticed how immediately her skin pricked with goosebumps. 

You looked up and made direct eye contact with Kylar. She was gazing at you almost adoringly, and you felt a sudden pang in her chest. She behaved somewhat oddly. Her castle was in disarray and empty. Princess Kylar must have been a very lonely girl. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you moved your head in and began to place light kisses on her thighs. Kylar twitched and her hands gripped her bedsheets. She cleared her throat and you looked up at her again. Her face was bright red.

“Worship me…” she whispered. “Please.”

You were in no position to reject a princess. Thus, your fingers went to work tracing random patterns across the smooth expanse of her thighs, while your kisses grew more fervent and occasionally you bit down, enjoying the way Kylar squeaked and squealed with every move. Honestly, it was pretty attractive, and you felt yourself begin to grow aroused. 

Kylar’s legs parted instinctively and the unmistakable scent of arousal hit your nose. Sure enough, when you looked you noticed her cunt was practically drooling onto the bed. You stifled a smirk - her getting so turned on by just some touching was pretty funny, but her volatile attitude kept you subdued in this regard. You still were a little afraid that she might decide to execute you, after all. 

Your teeth bit down into the plush skin of her inner thigh, and Kylar moaned. “Princess,” you breathed against her, casting your eyes up. She was looking away. 

“Y-you may speak,” Kylar stammered. You smiled.

“Your skin is so soft,” you murmured against her legs, pressing kisses all over. “It’s so nice. You must take very good care of yourself.”

“Oh,” Kylar replied, clearly not expecting you to say what you had just said. “Um. I don’t know. Not really. I took a bath in rosewater earlier, I guess.”

Mm. That’s what that smell was. “Very nice,” you said quietly, moved your head closer to her core, continuing to lick and suck all the way. Her whole body squirmed when your nose bumped her clit. Then, you pressed a kiss there, too.

“Oh!” Kylar unintentionally pulled back slightly, but quickly fixed herself. “S-sorry…I mean!” She cleared her throat, clearly flustered. “You m-may continue.”

Your hands teased and scratched her thighs as you began to lick at her wet cunt. The faint smell of roses tickled your nose and mingled with her own district flavor. As soon as your tongue made contact, Kylar’s hands flew to your hair, embedding her fingers in there. “Fuck,” she said quietly.

You lapped at her drooling juices before twisting your tongue into her hole, taking one hand off her thigh to rub at her clit. Kylar’s breaths were coming out in short, stuttered bursts at this point. She was enjoying this, and truthfully, so were you.

Your tongue explored inside of Kylar, as if you were trying to drink her juices directly from the source. You curled your tongue inside of her, and Kylar’s grip on your hair tightened. When you tugged your tongue out to flick her clit, she almost yelled.

“Feels so good,” she mumbled, wiggling back and forth as if she were trying to get more friction. “Your mouth feels so good…”

Again, you weren’t going to deny a princess what she wanted. So you dove in, licking her soaking folds even more fervently, taking the time to memorize how Kylar felt; how Kylar tasted. 

As you drank her up obediently, Kylar’s hips began to wiggle more and more and her breathing grew more heavy. “Oh–I think–I’m gonna–”

You didn’t stop. You simply kept at the same pace as Kylar ground her crotch against your face and moaned loudly. Her fluids soaked the sheets beneath her and your own face felt incredibly damp and sticky. 

As you pulled away, you licked your lips subconsciously, committing her taste to memory. You unceremoniously wiped your now-soaked face on your sleeve and looked up at Kylar again. Her face was redder than you had seen her and her chest was rising and falling heavily. She took a few moments before she began to speak again. “T-that was…it, um…” she cleared her throat. “Good work. I think this will work out…”

Unsure of what to do now, you simply offered her a smile. Upon seeing your face, Kylar suddenly looked like she might faint. It was like something had just snapped inside of her. She nodded several times in succession and then grabbed your wrists, pulling you up to the bed with her. And the way she looked at you was intense, to say the least. She had a crazy, lovesick look in her eyes, that sent a chill through your body. What had you just gotten yourself into?

Kylar grinned widely at you as she pushed you down so you were laying below her on the bed. She crawled over you with that same look in her eyes. “I knew I made the right choice when I saw you. Oh, this is great,” she giggled girlishly, laying her head down on your chest. “We’re going to be together forever and ever now!”

Maybe you should’ve stayed jailed…

[talesofesther]

is it too late to call you mine? | ch 1

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: In Sebastian's prettiest dreams, you'd wear a gown of a color that matched his tie, he'd take your hand and dance all night until morning came. But those dreams felt like a farfetched reality. Would you even consider going with him? As more than a friend?

A/N: This is part one out of two, of my story for @spaceyaceface's HL Writing Challenge. Hope you guys like it, let me know. <3

Masterlist

It was rather magical, how the white blanket of snow covered Hogwarts' grounds—with the arrival of winter, courtyards, towers, and trees alike harbored snowflakes that shone against the sunlight during the day and against the fairy lights scattered around the castle at night.

Despite the gelid wind nipping at your cheeks, you couldn't help but love it.

"Do you know who you'll be going with already?" Poppy walked the viaduct courtyard bridge beside you, hugging the two books she was carrying close to her chest.

You chuckled, glancing down at the way your shoes buried slightly in the thin layer of snow. "No, besides, I don't even know if I will be going at all, Poppy."

"What do you mean? You have to go, the Yule Ball is like one of the most awaited moments for anyone who attends Hogwarts," she reasoned. Then, a sly smirk came to her lips, and she bumped your shoulder with hers, "I'm surprised he hasn't asked you yet."

"Who?" You furrowed your brows.

"Sebastian, of course."

His name brought an instant blush to your cheeks that you tried to blame on the cold wind. You averted your eyes from Poppy, "why would he ask me? We're friends, it would be weird."

The sun had just peeked over the mountains in the distance, it was a cold morning today. The students who walked past you pulled their robes close to their bodies; you thought you heard a fourth-year complain about how far summer was still.

You had a scarf snug around your neck, the colors of your house adorning the fabric and keeping you warm. You thought your peers could learn a thing or two about appreciating the present. How the white of the snow blended with the dark stones of the castle, how the mountains and plains in the distance looked like something out of a painting when the first golden rays of the sun highlighted them.

Poppy pushed open the doors that lead to the central hall and a soft gush of warmth coming from inside enveloped your body and kissed your cold cheeks immediately.

Many Christmas decorations were already adorning each nook and cranny of the castle. You had been ecstatic when you saw Mr. Moon setting up the first big Christmas tree.

"Weird, you say?" Your friend walked ahead of you, the gold and black of her own scarf framing her rosy cheeks as she glanced back at you, "sometimes I wonder if we're talking about the same Slytherin."

Your lips hovered open and your feet stayed glued to the floor, just short of going through the threshold. What could she mean by that?

"See you in Herbology." With a wink, Poppy was walking away from you.

You tried not to dwell on it. Ever since the beginning of your sixth year things had been different between you and Sebastian. Everything you'd gone through together in your fifth year inevitably brought you closer—even more so when, by the end of the year, neither one of you had anyone to go back to. You chose to stay with him and Ominis at school; spending most of your afternoons tucked away in your Room of Requirement as hours went by in a breeze. Sebastian's soul became familiar to yours. There were moments, tiptoeing between the line of friends and something more, hidden behind corners and dimmed by faint candlelights, that felt too delicate to ever be labeled. And now, you still don't know what to call them.

Things became all the more complicated with the impending arrival of the Yule Ball. As if in on a secret, your friends kept teasing you about Sebastian taking you. And you couldn't help but feel somewhat of a pressure. You couldn't help but wish he actually would.

── ·❆· ──

Out of all the classes, Herbology had a special place in your heart. Nothing could beat the atmosphere of the greenhouse. As soon as you walked through the doors and came face to face with that gorgeous pink tree, a wave of calmness hit you instantly. Sunlight came in through the green-tinted glass walls, a slight breeze made the falling leaves rustle around you, and the smell of grass, dirt, and flowers covered your senses.

Snow was falling outside, yet here, it somehow always seemed to be spring.

You slowly walked down the stairs and to your potting table, removing your scarf from around your neck.

Sebastian had already taken his spot right beside you. He had a dark long coat over his uniform and his hair was messier and just slightly longer than usual, you also couldn't help but notice the faint blush under his freckles and on the tip of his nose, from the cold no doubt. You thought it was endearing.

"Well, good morning." His voice kissed your ears.

A smile found itself on your lips pretty quickly, "morning, Sebastian."

"Gotta love Herbology first thing in the morning. Nothing like getting your hands dirty to start the day just right," He mumbled, one finger brushing over the soil in his pot before he turned fully to you, his hip leaning against the table as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You chuckled lightly, gaze focusing somewhere on Sebastian's left shoulder. Poppy's words kept echoing inside your head; I'm surprised he hasn't asked you yet. Without fully realizing it, you left Sebastian without an answer. Your lips hovered open as your eyes turned unfocused the more you lost yourself between what-ifs.

Chocolate brown eyes regarded you with interest, perhaps just a tad too long before he finally spoke; "alright, spill it. What's bothering you?"

You weren't sure how he managed it, this ability to read between the lines when it came to you. You blinked multiple times and softly shook your head, gesturing to dismiss his worry. "Nothing's bothering me."

Sebastian clicked his tongue and took a step closer to you. In a moment of boldness, he reached a hand forward and straightened the lapel of your blazer. "You'll have to do better than that," he raised an eyebrow at you.

If you focused enough, you'd be able to feel the ghost of his words on your lips, count each freckle over his cheeks, that's how close he was. You couldn't breathe even if you tried to. And that's exactly what Sebastian does to you. His fingers may brush your cheek and he may get as close as breathing the same air as you, and yet…

"Humour me," Sebastian shrugged, leaning back against the table and distancing himself from you as if nothing ever happened.

He always pulls back. He gets so close, and yet it feels as if he's afraid to ever go further. Tiptoeing the lines of your relationship, yet never crossing them. Planting feather light kisses on your heart, yet never fully embracing it. He confused you to no end. And you still don't know what to call whatever it was that existed between you and him.

Ultimately, you were beginning to think there was nothing there at all. Sebastian had always been flirty after all.

"I've just been thinking about the Ball," you shrugged too, trying to sound nonchalant as you braced one hand on the table. "If I'll be going, and… with who."

Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek at your words, avoiding his gaze from yours for just a moment before a forced grin came to his lips; "I don't think it's much worth worrying over it, there's better things to do for a night than dancing to boring music. Especially when everyone will be occupied dancing to said music."

His eyes glinted mischievously as he spoke. You half expected him to invite you to sneak into the restricted section of the library again or something of the sort.

"Poppy says I should attend, something about having the full Hogwarts experience," you smiled, choosing to not comment on his slight mood swing, "I may be inclined to agree."

Sebastian only hummed, his brows furrowed as he choose to finally settle his attention on the sorry excuse of a Dittany he'd been growing since last class. "I… hope you find a good partner then."

You allowed your eyes to linger on him until Professor Garlick started speaking. Noticing how his jaw tightened in place and his shoulders became somewhat tense while he reached for the fertilizer.

You couldn't understand why Poppy was so certain Sebastian could ever think of asking you to the Ball.

── ·❆· ──

A mixed smell of freshly made potions hung in the air. Brewed Knotgrass and maybe a pinch of feathers of some kind. Chatter was going around the potions classroom, as it usually did before Professor Sharp arrived.

Sebastian had both elbows resting atop his potions station, slouched in his seat as one of his knees bumped up and down, and with his dark eyes glued to the door. There was a leave of Mallowsweet lazily being torn apart over and over by his fingers as the seconds trickled by.

"Sebastian!"

Something gently slapped the back of his head, bringing the boy back to reality. He hummed questioningly and turned to face Ominis, who sat beside him with a scowl.

"I figured you weren't listening to me when you failed to answer my question for the third time," the blond deadpanned, however with the beginnings of a smirk appearing on his lips. "Has she not arrived yet?"

Heat crept up Sebastian's neck and he straightened in his seat, "who?"

Ominis raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his friend; "you know exactly who I'm talking about."

"Don't," Sebastian mumbled, pushing to the floor the mess he'd made on his table.

"Are you still overthinking whether to ask her or not?" Ominis sighed, resting his elbow on the table so he could lean his head on his hand. "Sometimes I wonder which of us is the blind one."

Sebastian faked a laugh, "very funny, Ominis. I'm not overthinking anything, I've already made up my mind. Plus, I think the Yule Ball is overrated anyway."

Ominis hummed, "you and I both know that's not true, Sebastian. Not when it comes to her."

Sebastian gulped the sudden lump in his throat upon hearing his own thoughts being spoken out loud by his friend.

"Just don't force me to hear your whinings later," Ominis concluded.

A huff escaped Sebastian's nose at his friend's quip. He turned around with a pout evident on his lips. In all honesty, he hadn't meant a word of what he said to you in Herbology; if anything, that had been his emotions getting the better of him—the thought of you going with someone else brought a sour taste to his mouth and, for lack of a better word, he panicked. Because ever since the Yule Ball was announced, Sebastian caught himself smiling alone at random times as he walked the hallways of Hogwarts; the image of you walking down the stairs all pretty in a gown as you made your way to him, so he could take your hand and place a kiss there, painted his mind in the prettiest of colors, inevitably bringing a smile to his lips.

Sebastian liked to think he'd make it the perfect night, holding you close as you danced and serving you drinks whenever you desired; maybe he'd even go a step further and tell you exactly just what it is that you do to him—how you make his heart jump in his chest whenever he sees you, how he has to remind himself to breathe whenever you touch him.

It was a spark that had been there ever since you bested him in your first duel. A spark that he could feel leaving embers in his soul at each escapade and rule broken together. A spark that eventually turned into a flame, leaving scorch marks against his skin as punishment for all he'd put you through.

And now, Sebastian couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd hold your hand as you showed him your vivariums and have an arm around your shoulders as you walked the school grounds. He'd lose himself if he ever were to lose you. But he couldn't bring himself to do more, to cross that blurred line.

Sebastian didn't know how. How could he ever tell you that you hold his bruised heart in your hands? How could he ever say he was incapable of imagining a future without you in it? How could he do any of that, when he was nowhere near worthy of you?

In his prettiest dreams, you'd wear a gown of a color that matched his tie, he'd take your hand and dance all night until morning came. But those dreams felt like a farfetched reality. Would you even consider going with him? As more than a friend?

So, in stumbled words, he told you he found it boring. And part of him hoped you would both skip the Ball together. At least, he'd have you for the night.

Sebastian was pulled from his daydream when you walked over the threshold, smiling at Natty as you walked by her potion station. He was about to call you over when you were stopped in your tracks by Garreth Weasley.

A frown etched itself in Sebastian's features, his eyes burning against you and Weasley as he watched you speak. He couldn't make out the words you were saying, but the ginger had a hand brushing over your forearm for a moment, way too close to your hand for Sebastian's taste.

And then you smiled, all sweet and soft in a way that got Sebastian's insides all twisted because that smile wasn't directed at him.

None too soon, you were finally ditching Garreth and walking towards him and Ominis. Sebastian straightened in his seat and forced his expression into a neutral one.

"Hello boys," you greeted the Slytherin duo, dropping two large books on your table beside the caldron, "have you finished Sharp's assignment yet?"

Ominis' lips turned up at the sound of your voice, his features softening, "I have, I'm quite confident this is one of my best yet."

"We had an assignment?" Sebastian chimed in, making Ominis audibly groan from beside him.

You raised an eyebrow in his direction and he gave you an obvious wink, his Cheshire grin framing his freckles.

"So," Sebastian continued, avoiding your eyes, "what were you and Weasley talking about?"

"Oh," an unusual warmth came to your cheeks, you opened one of your books on no specific page, "he- he was just asking if I'd like to go to the Yule Ball with him."

Sebastian nearly choked on his own breathing upon hearing your words, he had to double-check them in his head to make sure he'd heard correctly. Several emotions clogged up his throat all at once. Anger, because how dare Weasley ask you to the Ball. Regret, because the ginger had done what Sebastian himself was too afraid to do. Despair, because somehow it felt just a little like losing you. Jealousy, because you were his. And then finally, realization, because you weren't his, not really; Sebastian had no right to feel any of this. Yet he did anyway.

His chest felt tight, his heartbeat began to hurt.

A strange chuckle escaped Sebastian's lips, he could feel Ominis' eyes boring into him, as ironic as that was. "Why would he think you'd go with him?" Sebastian liked to believe he kept up his nonchalant attitude pretty well.

You pursed your lips, taking a deep breath, "I said yes."

Sebastian thought that maybe Crucio would sting less.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Sebastian’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @auxiliare

[1-800-local-slut]

Home Is Where The Heart Is (Or Where's There's No People)

Klaus Mikaelson x Black! Fem! Shy! Reader

Reader is Klaus's girl friend. In public, she's shy the moment they get behind closed doors there's no stopping her

I don't know if this counts as a collab, but I'm going to count it as such. I couldn't have written this without @sublimecatgalaxy writing this beautiful work. Go check it out, it's so good omg. I hope you guys like this one and thanks again to @sublimecatgalaxy for letting me write this based off your work!

Warnings: Drinking, sophisticated party, nude painting, reader is horny at the end, allusions to smut, reader is really shy in public, this is a bit short, reader is a bit questionable, smutty thoughts, reader is thick, not a warning but I don't specify what the reader is, make no mistake the reader is a black woman, even tho I lowkey bully Marcel in this make no mistake that is my man, reader teases Klaus and calls him a whore lol

(No srsly, go check out this story it was actually wonderful)

Request are also open if anyone wants to send anything!

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

"I just wanted a burger." She frowned, staring at the mirror while Klaus helped slide her body into her dress. Deep sadness and exhaustion reflected in her eyeballs, the same sadness that had been ever-present since Klaus reminded her of their party.

A peace offering with Marcel, which she argued was pointless and declared she could miss. Klaus naturally needed to object! How could he show up to such an event and not bring the most gorgeous person in the world with him? That and he needed another person who could agree with (mostly) all his judgments

"Once we make our way through the riff-raff we can stop on the way home." The custom gown was slid onto her body now, and it highlighted all the best parts of her. All the parts Klaus loved.

"I won't want to stop on the way home, I don't want to go outside in the first place. I hate these parties and I don't want to see Miss Tagrot. Oh God, I can't stand that woman, why does Marcel invite her everywhere? Don't tell me he's sleeping with that thing."

He smirked, smugly, once he turned out of her line of sight to button his sleeves properly. She didn't want to be around anyone besides him and selfish as Klaus was he was overjoyed by this.

She stepped off the small platform she was on that was surrounded by mirrors after a quick look over herself. She looked stunning like she was straight out of history. The dress hugged her figure, and her wig was styled into a gorgeous updo with two pieces of hair framing her gorgeous features.

Klaus needed to call their driver. He stole a glance out of their large bedroom windows after leaving their walk-in closet. Ass hitting the sheets, he shut his eyes for a brief moment to inhale. He could still smell the mix of their scents. A mixture of sweetness and the forest. Once he grabbed his phone off the dresser he let his mind wander.

His ears focused on the sound of the cars outside in his city. The people going about their business, the vampires hunting for a meal. How many of those cars were driving to the very place he was soon to be? How many would be at Marcel's little gathering (which is certainly pointless knowing Marcel and Klaus) tonight?

Suddenly her arms wrapped around his broad chest, and she overtook him. The bed sunk as she crawled onto it, and he felt her soft, long gloves snake around him. Her scent, her feel, everything. She was whispering in his ear, pressing soft kisses to his neck.

How was a man to resist in the face of such beautiful temptation? Don't ask Klaus, he could hardly manage right now.

"Klaus, let's stay home. I'll let you paint me naked again." She whined in his ear, bringing her nails up to his head. Scratching the back of his ears, she wanted to stay home.

"You don't have to lie, I know you like it when I look at you naked." Turning his head, his eyes connected with hers. His eyes found their way to her full lips, and he knew what needed to be done. A soft kiss to her lips and the idea of missing all the possible chaos and creating issues was looking more and more enticing. Staying home and stripping that gown off her sounded so, so much better.

He wouldn't be Klaus Mikaelson if he didn't show up fashionably late, and make an entrance. Blue eyes met dark ones with a buzz of excitement. Klaus fixed their bodies onto the mattress, where she was now flat on her back and Klaus towered over her. The spark in her eyes and the smirk across her lips told Klaus that she won. She won and she knew it, the little minx.

When her arms wrapped around his neck, Klaus dipped down to kiss her again. She ghosted her fingers over the nape of his neck drawing a little pattern.

He couldn't help himself and took advantage of the slit in her dress. While he ran his hand up her thigh and gave a healthy squeeze, Klaus's mind and heart were racing. How could have even thought about going to this party when his girlfriend was here, looking like a gorgeous blast from the past? As if she came straight out of the 1920s with improvements made to the dress that suited her style.

Her hands took a small squeeze at his ass, and Klaus chuckled. Then he was lying down right on top of her, grinding his hips into hers. He could taste tongue as they continued their foreplay.

She overwhelmed his senses so well that Klaus didn't hear Elijah walking up the steps until he knocked on the door. At first, he thought he was having an auditory hallucination but then she cut her eyes sharply to the door.

"What?" She snipped. That just made his suit pants even tighter.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there's a driver here for you two." Elijah chuckled. Of course, Elijah probably heard their passionate kisses and shared shuddered breaths.

"Of all the bloody things, I can never just stay home. Tell him we'll be out in a moment." Klaus crawled off her, wiping the smears of lipgloss off his face. He certainly smears her colored lip makeup all over his face.

"What happened to just wanting to stay home?" Klaus chuckled while she tried to fix the back of her hair.

"We can't just be rude, the drivers already come. It would be different if Elijah never told us but now I feel bad. The poor man is just trying to do his job." She muttered and ran her fingers across his chest. Klaus was perched at the edge of their mattress, and she was sitting up against the pillows, pulling him in like a spider catching a fly. That wicked smirk came across her face again and she brought her face closer to his.

Her eyes met his while she admired the smeared makeup on his face.

"You look like a whore. My whore." She snickered in his ear, running a hand over his thighs just short of where he needed her. He smiled, knowing this was going to be a hard night. Pun intended.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

She gripped him like a bad habit that you couldn't shake no matter what you tried the moment they stepped out of the car. She was Klaus's girlfriend, his wild card who couldn't be tamed, a bear who was standing outside its cave. But once they got somewhere with too many people, the bear went into hibernation and slept until it was time to leave. Not from fear, but simply from sheer kindness.

And Klaus loved knowing she was only quiet for the sake of others. For the sake of not wanting to make enemies of the entire city. Sadly, that was one of Klaus's favorite things to do.

The party was a typical Marcel party. It was moderately loud, there were flashing lights, and crowds of the elite mingled. Live performers and tantalizing meals were off to the side, and Klaus glanced up at the ceiling, seeing people mingling on the upper balconies. Other vampires, of course, Marcel didn't just let anyone up there. Klaus himself finally arrived, so the party could start.

They pushed through the crowds of people. Hello's, compliments, and well wishes were exchanged though Klaus met none of them. Like always, everyone took notice of Klaus's stunning companion no matter how badly she wished they didn't.

She didn't want to be standing in the center of the room (ironic considering that she was dating the man himself, Klaus Mikaelson) but there she was.

"There's the man of the century," Marcel called, making his way down the steps. Stopping before the two, she bristled slightly.

"Marcel." She greeted him curtly. All that needed to be said was said to him. He smiled at her, his grin reminding Klaus of a hunter about to shoot his prey.

"Ma belle." He took the gloved hand that wasn't latching onto Klaus and pressed a soft kiss to it. Deep down inside, Klaus was thrilled to know that this disgusted her. How long did it take for her to allow Klaus to hold her?

"Hm." She smiled politely but took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter who she grabbed with such strength that it showed how badly she wanted to leave. The only time anyone would grab someone for a drink with such ferocity was when that person wanted to be anywhere else.

"Marcel, thank you for inviting us to dinner." Klaus joked as the three of them eyed a woman who walked past them. Klaus hadn't eaten before they left like he usually does so he could hear the thrumming of blood all around him. Marcel let out his usual hearty chuckle and she stuck closer to him.

"Speaking of dinner," Drawing the two's attention back to him. Marcel ran his hands down the front of his suit, Klaus couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. It seemed like the drama Klaus lived for was finally starting.

"Can I show you something, Klaus?" Marcel asked in a more hushed tone. It was that time of night when Klaus sadly had to leave her alone for a bit to handle business. If it were up to him, Klaus would have her superglued to his side.

But alas, sometimes even Klaus Mikaelson couldn't have everything go his way.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

Finding her again was like finding a beacon of light in a dark room. Like a blind man seeing for the first time, Klaus's heart instantly became lighter when he found his beacon again.

Marcel was still upstairs, sleeping off the punch Klaus decided he needed and Klaus happily skipped his way down the steps. His eyes cleared the room once he identified everything he needed.

A random person (or two) for dinner and his light at the end of the tunnel. Thankfully they just happened to be bunched together in one perfect little conversation circle for Klaus to wiggle into. With long steps, Klaus felt a thrill building at being close to her again.

She stood politely, sipping on her drink, and pushed a strand of hair behind her ears. He could hear her heartbeat jumping in her chest and heard an uncharacteristic giggle. Klaus could tell she'd been attempting to drink away her discomfort, the discomfort that followed with his absence.

A piece of chocolate (he made a mental at how it was the same color as her but he refrained from telling her this, as she often expressed annoyance at being compared to food) slipped into her mouth that she grabbed from the treats table, the white lights that shone around the room made her look even more like an angel.

A flash of light came over her brown eyes and Klaus felt his breath stop for just a second. She was too perfect and Klaus wanted to just grab her and go instantly.

The closer he got the happier he got to see her. Sure it was a bit odd how it made him want to jump for joy to know she didn't want to be around anyone else but who was about to say anything to him about it?

"Klaus! Oh, it's great to see you, I wasn't expecting you to come but once I saw this one I knew you couldn't be far behind." Miss Targot, the bane of his girlfriend's existence. She pulled Klaus into a friendly hug, the fur of her collar almost getting into his mouth.

Of course, that tight grip returned to Klaus's side the moment he was free. She was holding his arm once more, and Klaus shook his head slightly. Glancing down, he saw that she was on the verge of being tipsy but thankfully coherent enough to give Klaus little to no issue tonight.

But alcohol did make her more frisky than usual, so it was probably best they made their exit soon before they accidentally shamed themselves in front of all of New Orleans. Or before Klaus decided to pull her into a random room.

Either way, he heard the sound of furniture splintering, and to his left caught a view of some of Marcel's friends pointing down at him. Certainly time for an exit. After all, he still owed her that hamburger.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

"Every time I see that bitch she sounds more and more obnoxious. It's all 'Oh Paris was wonderful' and 'I just adored my trip to Dominican Republic' bitch why are you not home with your children?" Klaus barked out a laugh as she perched onto her vanity seat and slid two earrings into her ears.

She rubbed cocoa butter onto her dark skin, while Klaus placed his paint brushes into his mouth and pulled the curtains wide open to let in the sunlight.

It was the next day now, the two had slept well into the afternoon. They were only woken up by someone throwing a brick through their living room window and this turned out to be someone with some grievances with Rebekah. Now they were sitting in their bedroom, while Elijah and Hayley prepared for the cleaners Klaus sent for to come. Hiding bodies and whatnot while Rebekah dashed around the city, a woman on a mission.

It was finally time for that painting she offered Klaus last night.

In her natural form, he could see her confidence, the fire that resided within her. Barren of heavy makeup, only a touch of blush and lipgloss with some clear mascara for her lashes Klaus felt like he almost didn't deserve to be around her right now.

She was so beautiful and perfect that with all Klaus had done, he didn't deserve to have her posing for him let alone dating him.

"They're probably paying for those trips, the miserable trollop she is I doubt they want her home very often." Klaus joked as he went back to his easel and resumed setting up his paints. Red, browns, deep greens (for the fainting couch she would be lying on), and the color of her large fancy robe. Klaus thought it made her look like a really pretty bird. A really pretty bird that would take out one of your eyes without much hesitation.

After all, it would be rude to snatch someone's eye from their socket.

She snorted, as she slid seductively onto the couch.

"I wouldn't." Klaus watched her get comfortable, with her well-practiced pose (the one Klaus always envisioned in his mind) and prepare to be drawn.

"You wouldn't want to be anywhere with her." Adjusting his easel, it was almost time for him to truly focus.

"No, I don't want to be anywhere without you. You literally know I don't like people, you make them tolerable. I know I'll have an eyewitness to the absurdity I see. Now enough about her, draw me like one of your French girls." Her brows wiggled and they both took a pause. Silence and then laughter.

The line from that ridiculous movie that Klaus was really mad that he actually enjoyed (and that admittedly turned him on) made him and her cackle. His sides hurt and the sides of his eyes crinkled. She was trying not to roll off the couch from how hard she was laughing, cackling actually, so loud that it was probably heard down the street along with Klaus's loud bellows.

The sound that came from their bedroom so often, usually induced by her, eventually settled from Klaus's doubled-over form. She somehow rolled onto her stomach and they both calmed down.

Eventually, the silence settled and they fell back into their usual conversation. Things about the baby, when she would be born, how much she liked snacks, Klaus teasing her and her telling him to lick her ass, Klaus of course thrilled to do so.

His pencil ran over the easel, the first sketch being perfectly designed while his mind wandered. She began to sing (horribly off-key though intentional) and Klaus lightly scolded her to hold still.

She was Klaus's girlfriend. His girlfriend who, for the sake of others, held her tongue in public but when it was just the two of them she was a shining star. A force of unstoppable grace and nature. His girlfriend, whom Klaus could just be a regular guy with and just laugh as loud as he pleased at nothing in particular.

Above all though, she was Klaus's. And deep down inside nothing else mattered more to him than that.