#king alfred x plus size reader

[ladyxskywalker]

OCT 2022 (part two)

fandoms featured on this list: triple frontier, pedro pascal characters, misc./multi. fandom

* coffee fund *

thank you to the amazing fic writers for sharing some wonderful stories with all of us ! & to the kind readers for their support. 💙

please assume that all works & the blogs they belong to are 18+ only

mature adult content will be marked with a double asterisk **

be sure to check all warnings & tags before reading, feel free to skip if something isn't for you

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all the love xo A ☕

hope you enjoy ! & happy reading ! 🤗

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find more monthly fic recs over on my masterlist, Nov 2022 coming soon ! ✨

please let me know if you would like to be removed

✨ new authors & characters added for the first time !

✨ some authors are mentioned more than once throughout the list, check to see if your works are there !

PEDRO PASCAL

✨ Commandante Veracruz

Kinktober, Mirror Sex by @flightlessangelwings (f!reader) **

✨ Ezra (Prospect)

Kinktober, Outdoor Sex by @flightlessangelwings (f!reader) **

Overstimulation Kink by @magpie-to-the-morning (f!reader) **

✨ Jack ‘Agent Whiskey’ Daniels

Howdy, Pumpkin by @magpie-to-the-morning (f!reader) **

✨ Javi Gutierrez

Breath Play by @chaoticgeminate (f!reader) **

✨ Javier Peña

Size Difference by @autumnleaves1991-blog (f!reader) **

✨ Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

Kinktober, Morning Sex by @flightlessangelwings (f!reader) **

✨ Oberyn Martell

First Time by @autumnleaves1991-blog (f!reader) **

The Light in Your Eyes by @lightsinthedistancee *

Worth the Risk by @the-blind-assassin-12 (cw: blood, injuries, pain, angst)

✨ Pero Tovar

Body Worship by @clydesducktape (f!reader) **

Stripping by @clydesducktape (magical au) (witch!f!reader) **

The Halloween Hit by @absurdthirst & @storiesofthefandomlovers (cw: violence, infidelity, divorce, pregnancy, major character death) (f!reader) **

✨ Max Phillips

Guardian Vampire by @absurdthirst & @storiesofthefandomlovers (cw: vampirism, drugging, alcohol) (f!reader) **

✨ Misc. Pedro Pascal Characters

Pedrotober by @imtryingmybeskar (silva, a strange way of life, marcus pike, ezra, prospect, marcus moreno, pero tovar, zach wellison, javi g, jack daniels, frankie morales, din djarin, & more) (gn!reader)

Winktober by @oonajaeadira (soft kinktober) *

TRIPLE FRONTIER

✨ Benny Miller

Dry Humping by @clydesducktape (monster au) (f!reader) **

Kinktober, Floor Sex by @flightlessangelwings (afab!reader) **

✨ Frankie Catfish Morales

a/b/o by @clydesducktape (a/b/o dynamics) (alpha!frankie) (omega!gn!reader) **

Drunk Sex by @clydesducktape (monster au) (vampire!frankie) (f!reader) **

Love Bites/Marks by @clydesducktape (‘omega’!frankie) (assassin!f!reader) **

Thigh Riding by @autumnleaves1991-blog (f!reader) **

Witchy Woman by @movievillainess721 (plus size!f!reader) *

✨ Santiago Pope Garcia

Carving Contest by @dailyreverie

✨ Will Ironhead Miller

Breeding Kink by @clydesducktape (bodyguard au) (f!reader) **

Captain and the Siren by @rayslittlekitten (dad!will) (wife!f!reader) **

Making it Out Alive by @artemiseamoon (f!reader) *

MISC./MULTI. FANDOM

✨ The Amazing Spider Man (Andrew Garfield, Peter Parker)

Don’t Leave Me by @softtdaisy

✨ The Batman (Alfred Pennyworth)

Coming Up Roses by @saradika (f!reader) **

Slip into Your Skin by @stargirlfics (black!f!reader) **

✨ Bridgerton (Benedict Bridgerton)

Gentle Stroking of Cheeks While Kissing by @starryeyedstories

✨ Charlie Hunnam Characters

Jax Teller

Not All Leaves Turn in Autumn by @rayslittlekitten (ofc)

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword

Dirty Talk by @autumnleaves1991-blog (wife!f!reader) **

✨ Interview with the Vampire

like the bonfire that burns (that all words in the fight fell to) by dragonlqrd on ao3 (lestat x louis) **

like a heathen clung to the homily by dragonlqrd on ao3 (lestat x louis) **

the blood is rare and sweet by dragonlqrd on ao3 (lestat x f!reader) **

✨ Marvel (Valkyrie)

Toys by @flightlessangelwings (f!reader) **

✨️ The Originals / The Vampire Diaries

An Act That Brought You Joy (series) by Merontheshore on ao3 (elena gilbert x the originals) **

Bienvenue (series) by @Merontheshore on ao3 (klaus mikaelson x doppelganger ofc) **

Labyrinth: A Bonnie Bennett x Klaus Centric Universe (series) by @artemiseamoon (bonnie bennett x klaus mikaelson) *

** be sure to check out part one for more monthly fic recs including star wars, rogue one / andor, & moon knight

** if you are able, please donate to my little coffee fund link at the top of page ^^

[plus-size-reader]

The Deal pt 2

King Alfred x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1950 words

Warnings:none

Summary: Reader agrees to meet with the King of Wessex, under the condition that if she doesn’t like him, Bjorn will take her back home to Kattegat? But what will King Ivar think of that?

———————————————————————————————————

The evening itself wasn’t meant to be a punishment, though as Lagertha finished lacing the back of this stupid dress, you felt as though you may die. 

Never in your life had you worn a garment so constricting and infuriating. 

It was torture. 

You were a warrior, a fighter that needed as much range of motion as possible and yet, here you were in a corset with a skirt down to the floor. It just wasn’t practical for the life that you led. 

However, you assumed that good christian woman rarely engaged in battle the way that you did, so they didn’t need to be able to actually move. 

For whatever reason. 

“This is all idiotic” you bellowed, huffing as she finished tying the strings. Lagertha laughed, taking in your words with as much grace as she could, though the idea of what you were going through made her physically ill. 

Never in her life could she imagine a daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok, married off to some puny king in england. It was insulting to his image. 

For a moment, she considered Gyda, her darling daughter who had been taken from her way before her time. 

She would have never allowed her to be married off to some christian, far away from her home and her family. 

Still, it wasn’t her call to make. Ubbe had made a deal in order to get what he wanted, and nothing was going to change that...not even as much begging as you’d been doing since you found out. 

“I agree, but you know your brother, he can be so stubborn” she teased, earning a laugh from you. It was likely one of the last times she would hear it, but she enjoyed it all the same. 

The two of you’d had an interesting relationship since the death of your mother. For a while, you shared in Ivar’s opinion of wanting to kill her to get revenge for your mother’s murder but the more time you spent together, the more you understood. 

If you were in the position Lagertha was, you would have done the same thing. 

You had come to terms with it, but this was something else entirely. 

You were talking about giving up your freedom, your identity, and your life. 

For the first time in a long time, you wanted Ivar to be here so that he could talk some sense into them, or fight for you. There was no way he would ever make a deal like this with the saxon’s. 

Especially not one that forced you to give up the gods. 

“Unfortunately, he’s a lot like Ragnar in that way” you agreed, thinking about your father as you looked in the mirror, admiring the features you shared with him, as well as the ones you got from your mother. 

You could see his face, shining in your eyes, and that was all you needed to give you the strength to get through this. 

If all went well tonight, you’d be on a ship with Bjorn, headed back to Kattegat with all this at your back. 

You just had to survive tonight. 

~ 

Your footsteps made funny sounds as you walked down the corridor toward the dining hall. The shoes you had on were far too tight on your feet and made your toes feel odd, not to mention the fact that you hardly knew how to walk in them. 

Your dress about got caught under your feet with each unsure step, and you had already tripped against Bjorn three times as he led you toward where the king was waiting. 

He had graciously agreed to escort you, so that you didn’t actually die on your way there. 

Heels just weren’t something your people ever had the misfortune of wearing and right now, you would kill for your boots. 

“Just breath, smile, and be nice” he whispered, opening the door for you. 

You turned to reply but found him stopped at the door...leaving you to walk the rest of the way on your own. 

The idea frightened you, but you weren’t going to let the saxon king know that. Instead, you picked your head up and walked forward with as much grace as you could muster, which wasn’t much at all. 

In fact, you made it about a foot before your dress got caught under your foot and you fell to the ground in a mess of limbs and fabric.

Everyone in the room was unsure of what to do for a moment as you tried to gather yourself. There wasn’t really protocal for something like this, and Alfred, for one was lost. 

It wasn’t until his mother urged him to help you that he stepped down from the throne and offered you a hand. 

“Are you okay, M’lady?” he asked, shocked further still when you ignored him, your attention focused on your feet. 

Without missing a beat, you plucked the offensive article from your foot and tossed it across the room, followed by the other one. The action left you barefoot, and allowed for you to stand on your own. 

“I’m not a lady, call me Y/N, or nothing” you ordered, standing without hesitance and taking the hand he offered you. You shook it once, then dropped it to his side. 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Bjorn was laughing behind you. 

Everyone was understandably shocked by your behavior, but said nothing. 

“Alright Y/N, thank you for joining me. Are you alright? That was quite the fall” He commented, trying to check on you, though you found insult in his word. 

You had lived through much worse than a little fall. This king really must have been even weaker than you thought. He was pathetic. 

“That was nothing, and I wouldn’t have done it, had it not been for those horrible things they put on my feet” You grumbled, taking in the faces of all the people around you. 

Their jaws were practically hanging open as they studied you. They thought you were closer to a wild animal than a human, you bet. You could see it on all their stupid, smug faces. 

They thought they were so much better than you and your people. How were you supposed to rule them if they wouldn’t even look at you without sneering. 

What kind of King would want a savage bride anyway? They must have thought he was out of his mind. 

“I do apologize for that, it’s tradition is all” he reasoned, as if that was supposed to somehow make it better. If you were following your traditions in courting a potential husband, there would have been a feast and a sacrifice…

Yet, there was no goat to be found? 

Why did you have to follow their silly traditions if they had no care for yours? It didn’t make any sense to you. 

“I understand, but I will not ever wear them again” you shrugged, as if it was as simple as breathing. Alfred knew one thing, you weren’t accustomed to being told what to do. 

Which was going to make this whole thing a lot more difficult for him. 

“And what if I could promise that you do not have to? Would you agree to have a meal with me then?” he asked, understanding that he was going to have to take a unique approach to this whole thing. 

Alfred already had enough trouble as it was talking to women, led alone women who didn’t understand half of what he was saying, and already didn’t like him. 

At least in Wessex he was the king, so there were certain elements of respect that had to be given to him at all times. But he wasn’t your king, and you didn’t revear him as such, so that respect wasn’t there. 

“I would agree, but only if there’s ale” you countered, a slight smile perking up around the corners of your mouth. 

It wasn’t much, but it was a start and Alfred could work with that. After all, this whole thing was just as new for him as it was for you and it would take some getting used to for both of you. 

~ 

You recognized a lot of the food at the table where you sat, and didn’t hesitate to fill a goblet full of wine as you waited for Alfred to talk to you about whatever it was he wanted to. 

That was the main difference between him and the viking. Viking men didn’t feel the need to fill the empty space ever time it presented itself. Instead, they allowed comfortable silence. 

Silence seemed to make the boy king anxious, as if it meant something bad was about to happen. He couldn’t just enjoy the peace that came with long radiating silence. 

He constantly insisted on talking. 

“So, how are you finding wessex so far?” he wondered, cutting a bit of veal on his plate, his attention focused there, though he occasionally looked up at you as he waited for you to answer. 

You weren’t a hundred percent sure how to answer his question, mostly because it was a stupid question. Wessex was nothing like what you were comfortable with, or where you were raised. 

The people were cold toward you and treated you like an outsider, and even still, you couldn’t leave. 

“I do not like it” you answered finally, just as blunt as the first time you spoke. 

It was amazing to him that you didn’t even hesitate when saying something like that. You acted as if it was always better to say what you were thinking, rather than what the socially acceptable answer was. 

In some ways, he envied that about you. 

“No? And why is that?” he wondered, his meal long forgotten as he focused more and more as the words that fell from your lips. 

Again, a stupid question on his part. 

“It is not my home. Just as if I was to take you across the sea to Kattegat. You would not like it because it is not your home” you reasoned, getting bored of talking about yourself. 

You found that men were most happy when they could talk about themselves and their accomplishment. If there was anything you wanted to get out of this conversation sooner, it would be for the king to be happy. 

Though...making him unhappy could result in him taking back his foolish deal with your brother, which would make you happy. 

If you could make him not want to marry you, the problem would solve itself. 

“Your people think you’re stupid, have you noticed that?” you asked, out of the blue. Your question shocked him, but all Alfred could do was nod. You had a point.

For quite some time, his people had seen him as nothing more than a boy, incapable of ruling over a body of people such as themselves. They thought he was a fool, an imbecile, and even you’d noticed. 

“Don’t feel bad, you’re only a boy...it isn’t their fault that you aren’t stronger, smarter or more intimidating” you continued, the insults springing from your tongue without issue. 

You weren’t worried about any sort of punishment or repercussion. As far as you were concerned, being forced to marry the man in front of you was the worst thing that could happen. 

“You’re right, All the things you’re saying about me are true” he started, momentarily shocking you before he continued. Of all the ways to react, this certainly was a choice. 

“That is why I need a strong, capable queen like yourself” he grinned...this was going to be a lot harder than you thought. 

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Made not Born: Part 1

Fandom: The Witcher (Netflix)

Pairing: Jaskier x Plus Size! Goddess! Reader

Warnings: 

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Summary: You’re a goddess of little things, but you were made not born. You tire of immortality, of the glitter that does not fade, of watching those around you grow and age and falter and die. You help Jaskier in a moment of need and in return he tries to help you. Perhaps you find yourself falling in love along the way.

Notes: 

You find him by the roadside. You’ve followed his journeys, one of the many mortals you enjoy watching the life of, and now you find him in need of help. His clothes are dirtied, he is sat in a muddy ditch, hair misplaced and blood bleeding from the broken skin of his lip. He is beaten and he is bloody, but not dangerously so. But you are a minor goddess, good for healing little wounds and mending small broken things. 

You don’t answer his questioning calls until you’ve placed a hand on his cheek and the bruises have faded, the cuts stitching themselves back together, the rips in his doublet mending. You doubt he knows what god you are, few do, but his eyes glimmer with recognition as he takes in your form. You are the homeliest looking of the gods, although by mortal standards anything but. Your hips are wide, your stomach soft, your skin is covered in marks and scars from your previous mortal life. Your hair does not shine and your eyes do not glow. You looked as you did in your mortal life, only with something extra, something which mortals could never place a finger on and could never quite describe. It was an essence that let them know you were more than them, something else, something other. For some this bred fear, other’s awe, some comfort, and many curiosity.

“You’re Desara” He lifts himself from his place sitting, only to kneel instead. Blue eyes twinkling up at you, taking in the strands of your hair, the colour of your eyes, the way your dress falls around your body as if purposefully effortless. He tries not to stare, he really does, but he’s never met a god before and you’re...godly, no...otherworldly, effortlessly beautiful, shining like a beacon and, most of all, you look kind. There is a softness in your face that he never expected a god to have, he always imagined there would be glares and glowering, thunderbolts and lightning. He always thought gods were supposed to be frightening.  You were the opposite of what he had imagined, you gave off a feeling of comfort and safety that had his shoulders relaxing without a thought.

“That’s what you mortals call me...I go by Y/N...” You rest your hands on his shoulders and urge him to rise, he towers above you. Another thing he thought impossible. He always imagined the gods doing the towering, but he has to angle his head downwards to look you in the eye. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to look a god in the eye...he’s not sure what godly etiquette is. He’s fully prepared to make a massive faux pas and be struck down with some sort of plague or be crushed under the might of your godly powers. 

“Well, that’s very...”

“It’s a very mundane name, I know. I wasn’t always a goddess, you know?” You say with a small little smile, coy, playful. He shakes his head and swallows hard. He will admit he knows your name, knows that you are a minor goddess, known for little things, but he does not know what little things and he does not know your story or history. He always imagined that Gods were born. That they simply burst into existence or rather they existed and birthed everything else. He’d be lying if he said he was an overly devout man, he’d seen enough to be open minded, but had never been one for leaving offerings at shrines or speaking out prayers and thanks.  

“I was once a farmer’s daughter. I sowed the seeds, I threshed the wheat, I brought in the harvest...and then one day a god came to me and decided to make me a god too. She believed they needed more, believed she could create something more of me. I think she believed I’d become a great one, a powerful one.” You laugh and he thinks it is supposed to sound bitter and humourless, but instead it sounds soft on the breeze like the light strumming of his lute or the sound of birdsong on a spring morning. “So I became Desara, Goddess of the little things, the warmth of a hearth, the feeling of home after a long journey. Goddess of small creatures and little deeds, of jaunty tunes and a noiseless breeze. Goddess of the seed that roots and the weed that dies, Goddess of the daisy chains and flower crowns. Of worms and of rhymes. Of broken noses and split lips. My powers are minor and few pray to me. Mostly, little children who find my rhymes and songs amusing or who wind chains of flowers for their friends. They soon forget, however.”

“A rather impressive list, oh beautiful creature, oh mighty goddess” He is not sure how anyone could forget you. If you consider yourself minor and unimpressive he cannot imagine what the other gods are like, but he finds that he has no interest in finding out.

“Please. Y/N. I do not enjoy being....grovelled too or worshipped. I am so tired, Julian Alfred Pankratz. I have lived so long and so lonely.” 

“If I am to call you Y/N, then please call me Jaskier.” There is a pause before he continues, “Surely you have admirers at your beck and call?” He cannot imagine you without them. Cannot imagine why men and women would not flock to worship at your feet, why they would not revel in the swell of your hips or the softness of your body, the kindness of your face, or the gentle nature of your words. It seemed to him that anyone would be a fool not to admire and worship you. 

“Admirers are not loves. They grovel, they seek, they desire, they want, but they do not wish to truly know or listen or care. What I would give to be mortal again, to live in the moment, to know there is an end. To be loved for myself, a farmer’s daughter and not a goddess.”

“Is there not some way to do so? To become mortal, I mean?” He doesn’t pretend to know much about these sorts of things, that was always Geralt’s area of expertise, but it makes sense to him that anything that is made can be unmade, anything that is fixed can be broken. 

“For all my years, my knowledge of gods and kings, monsters and men is rather limited. If there is, I doubt the other God’s would tell me for fear that in some hateful fury I might make them mortal. Although I tend to avoid them where possible and would much rather leave them to their quibbling and return to a simpler life”

“Your predicament moves me, Y/N...I am humbled in your presence, “ You go to cut him off and chastise but he stops you, “Not because you are a god or some immortal being but because it is clear to me you have a mortal soul longing for what mortals do.  Love.” Perhaps he is flowery with his words, like most bards are, but you decide that he truly means what he says, no matter how poetic it might appear. 

“If you will permit me, I would try to help? I have little knowledge on the subject of Gods, but I know a friend who might know where to look.”

“The Witcher.” He looks surprised, “Us Gods watch, you know. From our skies and our seas and our grasses and our trees. I find you enjoyable in your journeys, Toss a Coin to Your Witcher really was a masterpiece,” 

“-Why thank yo-” You cut off the thanks, not needing thanks for speaking what you feel is the truth. 

“I watch and I know things. He is your friend and you are right, he knows a great deal about my kind and all the tricks to make or break us...do stress that I was not born a god, I was made...and surely what was made can be unmade?” You take a deep breath and humble yourself, kneeling in front of him in a way none of the other gods would,  “I...thank you, Jaskier...I wish to be me again and I no longer wish to be so old and weary and never age. Thank you for trying even if an answer cannot be found.”

“I’ll find an answer. For good or ill. I’ve never had a quest of my own before, a true adventure, and I refuse to fail you, Y/N. I hope I can return your mortality.” You feel a little of your composure slip at the genuine kindness and determination in his voice, at the hopefully gleam in his blue eyes. You blink away what tears have filled your eyes and stand up to lean forward, pressing a thankful kiss to his forehead, gentleness you bestow upon any you can, but rarely with such genuine feeling. 

“Thank you, Jaskier. I will aid in what little ways I can, but I am no greater god, I cannot do much but mend small breaks, and soothe little hurts.” It’s a warning, kindly, but one to remind him that if he needs help greater than you can give then there is little you can do. It would pain you to see one of your favourite mortals perish in an effort to help you, you wanted your mortality, but not at the cost of a life. Perhaps your mortality wasn’t even possible to regain.

You leave him there, kneeling in the dirt with soft eyes and a softer heart. To him it seems as if you become one with the leaves and the trees, drifting off to somewhere unknown and his eyes follow for as long as they can before you disappear entirely. He steels himself, rising from the ground, tugging on his now mended doublet and grabbing his lute. He has a witcher to find and despite their current differences, Geralt had made it quite clear that he didn’t want the bard hanging around, Jaskier needed his help and he would put up with the grump for you. A kind goddess in need of help regaining her mortality, beautiful as the sunrise and quiet as the moon, well, that was just a song that needed to be written and a story that needed to be told.

[morgansunflower]

Savin' Me 2/3

Jason Todd X Reader, Bruce Wayne X Zatanna Zatara

Warnings:worry, heavy angst, PTSD

Words:1045

Based on Batman death in the family 2020 movie. Jason, struggles to cope with being around his adopted father reminding him of his sacrifice and how far he had drifted. With the guilt of seeing Tim as his own son.

Jason's P. O. V

Batman, is back. Bruce, is OK and is Batman. What's Batman without his sidekick? Tim, now under Bruce's care as he should be. The chances of me fucking up are 11 otta 10. Zatanna, stayed at the Manor. Bruce, has Zatanna and Tim. I don't have to worry. My panic attacks have been less frequent. I still am dealing with the thought about losing control in front of, Bruce. I still feel shame when I look at, Bruce knowing... That I did break a promise. Y/N, could see it. She sees everything. Because seeing Bruce everyday is a constant struggle. Everything is OK but I'm fucking scared. I am filled with guilt and it's overflowing. I need a fucking break. I step into my shared bedroom with, Y/N. She walks to me and hugs me from behind. She still after all this time has a calming and comforting affect on me. Her simple embrace or touches take my breath away and melt me to my core. I softly sigh and hold onto her arms.

"it's not a crime to want a break, Jason. We could get a place of our own or leave Gotham for however long you need. I want you to have a moment to breath, baby"

"somewhere where it's just us and not in Gotham, at least for a few weeks"

So we packed our bags and bid our goodbyes. Bruce, wished us well. Zatanna, gave us a big hug and made me promise to be careful. Alfred, softly smiled and placed his hand on my shoulder telling me to be careful and come home soon. Tim, shook my hand. I wasn't expecting more.. I hope he's not angry. It's, Tim. He's the smart one and a little spooky. He knows that I care about him. He'll be just fine with, Bruce. Why the hell does it feel like I'm giving my own kid to Bruce? Y/N and I stayed in a newly bought safe house in Coast City. It was a normal house. A little remote though perfect. We could patrol the city, go swimming from the beach that was hour drive away and I had Y/N. Plus I can see my girlfriend in a swimming suite. The house had plenty of supplies. The entrance of the house was the living room to the right a open kitchen with a bar. On the left a door leading to a master bedroom. As well as a bathroom. I lay on the king size bed because I was asked. Honestly I'm really looking forward to what she is planning. Y/N, walks in her most beautiful swimming suit, with two drinks on a platter. I arch my arm's putting my hands, behind my head on my neck. She's absolutely beautiful.

"wanna do me, a favor and ditch your swimming suit, Luv"

She chuckled "pervert"

"well of course only to you"

Y/N's P. O. V

With night fallen Jason and I in bed. My back up against his bare stomach. I hear his breath begin to heavy and his body shaking. I swiftly turn to face him.

"Jason, honey it's OK I'm here"

I cup his cheek he holds my hand kissing it. He opened his eye's. His breathing has not calmed. He breaths with his mouth open. I gently rub his face. Then I began running my fingers through his hair. It breaks my heart to see him in so much pain.

"I-I-.." he gasped trying to catch his breath

I kiss his cheek "shh don't force it. I'm here and ready to listen to you"

"Timmy... You.." he shakes his head with his lips trembling

I wrap my arms around him he holds me tightly our legs intertwine. Jason, rested his head in the crook of my neck. I feel his fast Heartbeat...... I open my eye's seeing, Jason sitting on the side of the bed with, his feet on the floor. I do the same only right behind Jason. I wrap my arms around him. He holds my arms. He takes a deep breath.

"I know there just dreams but they always feel so fucking real" his voice breaking "hell maybe the kid should have come with us? He needs a damn break from his fucking computer.. I know you and him are ok but.. " he started crying my heart sinks to my core. I kiss his, back "I still see myself holding Timmy and you because you both couldn't go any further and I was too late.. To save either of you"

I pull him back. He leans back I lay down. Jason, lays on my stomach his head resting below my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair. I feel he's fatigued. He's battling his storm and needs shelter.

"guess in our hearts Timmy is always gonna be our kid" I said softly to remind him that I care about Tim as my own as well.

Jason, kisses my stomach as if to say 'yeah'. His breath begins steadying. That's the first thing for him to get a little bit better.

"I miss him too" I said kissing his head

He takes another deep breath "I never will comprehend how the hell you are mine"

"well I am and I'm always gonna be"

He leans upward putting his hands on the bed with myself in between. He kisses me. I deepen the kiss. I hear his, phone.....

Jason's P. O. V

3 week's later early in the morning I am feeling better. Y/N, sound asleep. She looks peaceful and beautiful. I'm going to marry her one day. I hear my phone again. I roll my eye's and look. Grayson. I answer

"the fuck man I ju--"

-"Jay, it's about Tim"

"what the fuck about, Tim? Is he hurt?"

"Jason, honey" Y/N said sleepily. I put my hand up in response needing to hear, every word

-"Tim's dad died five days ago--" I cut him off

"fuck, Grayson! How the hell am I just now hearing about this? Where is he?"

"I've been trying to get a hold of you for a week man. Timmy is with Bruce on patrol. I'm so-"

"save it I'm coming home"

[plus-size-reader]

The Deal

King Alfred x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1896 words

Warnings:none

Summary: Reader is the daughter of Ragnar. She goes to Wessex with Lagartha, Ubbe, Bjorn, and Torvi. Heahmund makes a deal with the the King to give them the lands they so desire...

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When you first arrived at Wessex, you were looked upon as a savage and a murderer. 

As far as any of the Christians were concerned, you were nothing more than an animal. Because of that idea, you were half tempted to prove them right, though you knew it wouldn't do any good. 

If you stood any chance at being accepted in this place, you had to be on your best behavior. 

It was bad enough that you were a viking in England...the last thing any of you needed was a murderous viking. 

They already thought badly of you, so you needed to prove them wrong. It was imperative that you found a way to make this treaty work, or your entire family would be in danger. 

You were the only living daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok, and that meant nothing here. However, where you'd come from, you were untouchable. You were looked upon as a princess and that attitude followed you everywhere you went. 

You held your head high as you strolled from the cage you'd been wheeled in on into the large building that waited for you. It was a palace, sure, but meant nothing to you. No amount of gold or shining things could change your mind about this place...

It was stuffy and tense. 

You hated every single thing about it. 

Except for one crucial detail... 

The young King Alfred. 

He was an interesting character, who his people didn't take seriously. They looked at him as a child, and as you looked at him, you weren't surprised. 

The man was by no means imposing, and you had no idea how he'd come into the throne in the first place. Not to mention that he was tiny, how was he meant to lead them? 

"This is your King?" you asked, addressing Heahmund instead of the boy King. You weren't even going to speaking to him, for the understanding that he didn't speak your tongue. 

The man only nodded, waiting for you to ask further questions, though no questions came. 

You knew what it meant to be in the presence of a King, but as far as you were concerned, this small boy was nothing more than a joke. 

Still, there was something about him that intrigued you. Something about him that was odd, and different from anything else you'd ever experienced. He was trained, like a wolf kept on a leash. 

It was strange. 

"Does he understand me?" you wondered, clarifying before you said something that was going to get you into trouble. 

The time he shook his head. It was clear to you then that you could say whatever you pleased, as long as you did so in your native tongue. 

And that made you happy. You had a million things on your mind that you had to get out about the strange man across from you. "He’s too frail and weak, I could snap him in half” you teased, earning a laugh from Bjorn behind you. 

It was funny and he couldn’t blame you. In truth, he’d thought the same thing as soon as he saw the small man. 

He was puny at best, but that didn’t change the fact that he currently held your fate in the palm of his hands. 

Something was going to have to be done in order to secure your place here.

“That may be true, but he is the King” Ubbe spoke up, urging you to hold your tongue. King Alfred may not speak your language, but Heahmund did, and you couldn’t be sure that you could trust him quite yet. 

The only people that you knew you could trust were your own. You were the enemy in a hostile land, and you weren’t going to put too much trust in the Christians. 

That could only end badly in your experience. King Aelle had proven that quite well when he was alive. 

“Not my King” you shot back, shutting your mouth after getting it out of your system. There was nothing you could say or do that would change the fact that you were now in Wessex. 

You just had to do as you were told for the time being...as much as you hated it. 

~ 

You all had been sitting around in the dungeon area for what seemed like hours until Heahmund and the tiny King could come to a decision about what to do with all of you and you had really had enough of it. 

There was no reason to keep you all locked up like animals. If you wanted to kill someone, you would have done it when you walked in the door. 

However as much as you hated the dungeon, as soon as they let you out, you were in for a surprise that was going to make this whole thing so much worse. 

Heahmund had made a deal to get your brother’s the land that they were owed by King Ecbert. 

All you had to do was be wed to the King. 

It would create a connection between the viking and the people of Wessex, not to mention the possibility of you giving Alfred an heir. 

It wasn’t ideal by any means for you but if it would help ensure a bond between your kind and the christians, Heahmund thought that it would be worth it. Besides, it wasn’t right for a woman of your age to be unmarried.

Something had to be done to mend the hole that had been torn between your two groups. As far as you could tell, this was how he was going to make good with them after commiting murder, of all things. 

You could hardly believe it when they told you...

“You are just going to marry me off to him, like a thrall?” You barked, hardly believing what they were telling you. You could hardly breathe, and your blood was boiling. 

Never in your life had you been so full of rage. Who did they think they were?

 You were the only surviving daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok, and that meant something. In the eyes of the Gods, you were special, you weren’t to be traded like cattle to a man who couldn’t even defend his people. 

It wasn’t right and if your father could see it, you would hate to see how he would react. 

Ubbe had been expecting this, but the vision in his mind had nothing on the way you were really taking it. You were beyond angry with them, in a way that he’d never seen in his life. 

“This is just what has to be done to ensure that we receive the lands that we are owed sister, nothing more than that,” he assured, earning a look of disgust and rage from you. 

If he hadn’t known better, he would have feared what you would do to him. 

You didn’t care about the lands around you. If you had your way, you would have returned to Kattegat with Ivar half way through the journey. If Ubbe was going to go through with this, he wasn’t the leader you wanted. 

He wasn’t the King that you wanted to follow. 

“I want to go home, take me back to Kattegat” you ordered, your arms folded across your chest like an angry child. It was quite the sight, and Ubbe had to actually stifle the urge to laugh at you. 

You had always been so terribly dramatic, a trait that you received from your father, undoubtedly. 

“I can’t do that Y/N, you know that” he started, prompting you to turn toward the door without a second thought. If Ubbe couldn’t help you, perhaps Bjorn could. 

He had always been the most rational and protective over you, out of all your brothers. There was no way he was going to let something like this stand, especially not if you could convince him in the right way. 

“Bjorn, you will never believe the deal that Ubbe has made with the christian king” you started, your mind swimming with the events of the past few minutes. 

You couldn’t live here, among these christians another minute, led alone be their queen. You simply couldn’t do it. 

Why had Odin forsaken you so? After everything you’d done in his honor throughout your life, he wasn’t going to leave to the wolves now, would he? 

That would be the cruelest fate of all. 

“I heard” he bellowed, keeping his back turned to you as you entered his room. He had been drinking weak christian wine since he heard of what was to happen, anticipating your visit. 

As much as he hated it, there was little he could do to stop the arrangement that had already been made. 

You would have to marry eventually, and while the oldest of your father’s son’s had always seen you married to a jarl, it would seem that wasn’t going to be the case anymore. 

Instead, you would remain in Wessex on the arm of the boy king, as the queen of his kingdom and the overseer of the community of viking they would set up in westumbria. 

Someone had to do it, and this was the sacrifice you would have to make. 

“I won’t do it Bjorn! I’ll sooner slit his small throat in his sleep” you barked, not believing that he wasn’t going to do anything to help you. Bjorn was your only hope, and even he had turned his back on you. 

That got a rise out of the man. Viking or not, you couldn’t threaten to murder a king around here and get away with it. 

“Shut up! Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he yelled, turning around finally, his large hand falling over your mouth without a shred of hesitation. 

It was one thing to leave you under the protection of the king, but he wasn’t going to leave you here in a cell. 

The action shocked you, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. 

Bjorn was a large man with a large reputation, but he had another thing coming if he thought you weren’t going down without a fight. 

“Anything is better than being married to him” you replied, that sassy smirk finding its way to your face. Either you didn’t understand the consiquences, or you didn’t care...either way, Bjorn shuddered to think of how you would react. 

He was going to have to do something to get you to cooperate, or the deal would never go through. 

“I’ll tell you what, go meet with the King, and if you don’t like him, I’ll take you back to Kattegat” he offered, knowing that he shouldn’t. He was only getting your hopes up for something he couldn’t provide but he had to do something. 

He wouldn’t have you getting yourself killed. 

You nodded, shocked at his sudden change of heart. Sure, you’d have to sit through a stupid evening all dressed up like a christian woman, listening to the boy king talk but if it would get you home, you’d sit through a hundred evenings. 

You were so blinded by your happiness and relief that you didn’t stop to think about what would happen if Bjorn actually tried to take you back to Kattegat with Ivar ruling as king. 

It didn’t matter. 

All that mattered to you right now was getting tonight over with, so that you could finally go home.