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flowerandblood · 7 months

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Stay and love, leave and die

Halloween Request Oneshots Series

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Strong! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, noncon, virginity loss, smut, angst, choking, violence, threats, kidnapping, obsession ]

[ description: After the death of her grandfather, the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Harwin Strong travels to Storm's End to remind Borros Baratheon of his fathers oath to her mother he had made years ago. There she meets her uncle, whom she has not seen since a certain terrible event that took place between him and her brother. Her uncle decides to take his payment for what happened to him. Aggressive, obsessive, very dark! Aemond.]

This oneshot is inspired by anon request and is created with Halloween in mind, so unlike what I usually write, these fisc will be very dark and uncomfortable. Keep this in mind before you start reading.

Today marks one year since Ewan Mitchell played the role of Aemond Targaryen. I want to celebrate with this messed up Halloween oneshot! Love you my Aemond girlies 🎃🎃🎃

Alternative Universe Series: The Fall from the Heavens

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

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She didn't remember much about the night her uncle lost his eye; at the time she was too young to understand what had really happened. When she came down into the great hall in only her nightgown and saw the maester bending over her uncle she squealed loudly, covering her mouth with her hand, terrified and distraught, bursting into tears.

She and Aemond were betrothed through the King's decision.

Her grandfather believed that a union between them would ensure that the kingdom would not fall apart after his death.

Her uncle did not speak to her much before their betrothal because she was a girl and her her feminine concerns did not arouse his interest. However, sometimes when she met him in the library, he would read aloud to her and she would listen to him with interest.

They would then exchange thoughts about their lineage, and even though it was purely childish, naive musings, they both felt like adults then.

She was really fond of him.

He was calm, polite and didn't mock her like Jace and Aegon, who said that when she frowned her eyebrows and pressed her lips together she looked like a hamster.

It turned out that their grandfather's decision, instead of confusing and intimidating them, brought them closer together. Her uncle was a man who understood perfectly what duty was and considered it his task and responsibility to prove himself as a husband according to his father's will.

He began to introduce her to his world full of weapons and trainings filled with effort, his beloved books on philosophy and history.

She knew that it gave him great satisfaction when she borrowed thick volumes from his private collection, which his mother had presented to him, pleased that she was able to discuss with him more and more boldly and confidently on subjects that interested him.

He embarrassed her when one day he asked her hesitantly if she could spend the night by his side. From what she understood he did not sleep well, although he did not want to say for whatever reason. He found that her presence reassured him, and since she was to be his wife, her place was with him.

She couldn't hide the heat and joy that spread through her heart at the thought that he craved to feel her by his side.

From then on, she would sneak out to his chamber at night, slipping under his bedding, falling asleep beside him pressing her forehead against his, holding his hand in hers. He never tried to touch her in an indecent way, never ordered her to expose her body, instead allowing her to place innocent, warm, childlike kisses on his lips whenever she desired.

If it hadn't been for the darkness around them she would have noticed that his cheeks were rosy with shame and contentment, that he was smiling lazily as he lay there with his eyes closed.

From then on, he slept peacefully.

Then, however, her younger brother deprived him of one eye when he dared to tame Vhagar, and her mother, despite promises that she would be able to visit him, allowed it only after a few days, hiding behind the fact that her half-brother should rest. However, when she appeared at the door of his chamber full of hope, Criston Cole sent her away and she never saw him again.

She sent him letters for eight years, one every two months, but he never wrote her back.

When king Viserys died her mother decided that she would fly to Storm's End to remind Lord Baratheon of his fathers oath, while Jace was to fly to Winterfell and Luke to the Eyrie.

All things considered, however, she did not foresee one thing.

Vhagar.

When she saw her in the middle of the storm, raising her head towards her like a great moving mountain, she felt fear.

She had not seen him since that day.

She did not fly to King's Landing when Luke fought for his rights to Driftmark because her mother and the Queen thought it would only make things worse, and her uncle did not want to see her.

For a moment she hesitated in spirit, standing in the rain, whether to turn back, terrified at the thought that he was there. She recognised, however, that her mother had entrusted her with this mission believing that she would fulfil the task and she had to fight for her rights.

Therefore, she gathered her courage and approached the guards, informing them of who she was. They led her into a large circular throne room, lit up once in a while by an intense flash of lightning and the torches all around her.

That's when she saw him.

He stood in a leather cloak with sword and dagger at his side, speaking to one of Lord Baratheon's daughters, but when he heard the guards announce who had arrived he looked towards her, turning on his heel, holding his hands entwined behind his back.

His lips twitched in a mocking, menacing grin that sent shivers through her, his pupil narrowed like those of a cat that had just seen a mouse.

"My Lady Strong." He said teasingly, coldly, lightly, and she swallowed loudly, recognising that she had not come all this way to tease.

She was shivering with cold and fear and wanted to convey what she had to say as quickly as possible.

"Queen Rhaenyra wishes to remind you of the oath your father, Lord Baratheon, made to her years ago." She said softly and clearly, looking up at the distressed lord sitting before her on the stone throne.

"Prince Aemond has offered to take one of my daughters as his wife. Which of my daughters will one of your brothers marry to win my favour?" He asked her in a dry, raised voice, frustrated by her presence and what she was demanding of him.

She swallowed loudly, looking at her uncle in shock, seeing him watching her with satisfaction, his chin raised in a gesture of victory, the corner of his mouth still twitching in a smile.

He was proud of himself.

"Forgive me, my Lord, both my brothers who are of the proper age for marriage are already betrothed." She muttered, and Lord Baratheon laughed aloud, spreading his arms to his sides.

"So you come with empty hands. Go home, pup. Tell your mother she won't summon me when she wishes like some dog." He growled.

She swallowed the insult with difficulty, nodding, feeling her head humming, her heart pounding like mad, her uncle's gaze piercing her to the core.

"I will pass on your words to the Queen, my Lord." She said, forcing herself to be calm and bowed, turning away tense and walking out quickly, wanting to be back in Dragonstone as soon as possible.

She stepped out into the courtyard into the intense rain pouring down from the sky, loud thunder all around her, her whole body trembling from fear.

"Wait, my Lady Strong." She heard a cold, mocking voice behind her and squealed softly as she felt someone's strong, large hand clench painfully tight on her arm.

"Won't you greet your uncle? Don't you want to see at last my memento after meeting your brother?" He hissed, pulling his eye patch from his face with his free hand in one sharp, firm, agressive motion.

She drew in a loud breath when she saw polished sapphire shining ominously in his eye socket.

She stared at the sight simultaneously horrified and enthralled, there was something in his face, in his gaze, in the way he clenched his jaw, that she was unable to look away from him.

"− please −" She mumbled, trying to pull herself out of his arms, but he embraced her, pressing her close. She put her hands on his rain-wet leather coat and tried to push him away, but he only chuckled lowly at her helpless efforts, locking her in his grasp.

"− I see you've changed too − you even look like a woman now − maybe I should take you away and enjoy you after so many years of separation − didn't you miss me? −" He asked in a humiliating, sweet, mocking voice, leaning over her like a child so as to look into her frightened eyes, in which tears of terror had gathered.

She was afraid of the way he looked at her.

"− please, uncle, I just want to go home −" She whispered pleadingly and took his cold face in her hands, wanting to alleviate the situation somehow, to give it some affectionate gesture that would help him calm down.

Something changed in his gaze, he shuddered and licked his lower lip, looking at her with his head tilted, his grip not easing one bit, their hair, faces and clothes wet from the intense rain.

"− no −" He hissed and grabbed her in half, throwing her over his shoulder, she began to squeal and scream, slapping his back with her hands, her dragoness writhed ominously at the sight, ready to breathe fire.

He summoned Vhagar, who rose suddenly on her paws, the ground shook beneath her and her little dragoness scowled in fear, as terrified as she was.

"− please, don't hurt her! −" She cried to him and stopped struggling, knowing that Vhagar's teeth clamped down on her dragoness would tear her apart. "− please, I'll fly with you, I will do anything −"

"− hm −" He murmured under his breath, placing her on the ground right next to the ropes hanging from his saddle. He looked at her with an indifferent, cool gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line. "− up −"

She cried all the way, snuggling into the front of his saddle, feeling his body clinging to hers behind her, his face pressed against her neck.

"− I will make you my mistress − you will bear me bastards after I marry any of that fool's daughters − bastards are perfect for bearing other bastards, aren't they? −" He whispered in her ear, placing wet, sticky kisses on the skin of her neck, and she tried with difficulty to catch her breath, almost choking from her sobs.

She prayed for her mother to save her.

He dragged her by her arm, holding her painfully tight, towards his chamber, heedless of the surprised stares of the guards.

It was the middle of the night and he had commanded that no one was to disturb them.

He pushed her into his chambers and she fell to the stone floor, panting heavily, shaking all over, feeling like she was about to vomit from fear, tears and rain drops running down her cheeks. She could hear him breathing loudly with excitement and exertion, pulling off his coat, tossing it disorderly on the floor.

She was breathing hard, looking at him in horror, wondering what she was supposed to do, how she was supposed to fight him.

Suddenly, this one thought, this one attempt, seeing him begin to walk towards her with a menacing, final step that said it all came out of her mouth.

"I've written letters to you. For eight years, every two months. You never wrote back to any of them. Why?" She asked in a trembling, broken voice, feeling how tight her throat was with fear, how much her hands were quivering.

He stopped in mid-step, furrowing his brow, his face impassive, tense, cold.

"Liar." He hissed as he knelt over her, grabbing her by her neck, pressing her to the ground in a one, brutal motion, his free hand quickly found the dagger hidden under her cloak and tossed it aside with a loud clang of steel.

She figured that the more she resisted, the more pain he would cause her.

"I'm not lying. Ask your grandfather. I suspect he didn't even pass them on to you, did he?" She mumbled with difficulty, his fingers clenching on her neck so tightly that she had trouble breathing.

However, she noticed a kind of hesitation and uncertainty on his face, his nostrils quivering in a ragged breath.

"And what did you write in them, my Lady Strong?" He asked teasingly, his free hand sliding down to the tying of his breeches, his wide-eyed gaze directed at her, mad, implacable, cruel.

She licked her lips, feeling his fingers cold and wet from the rain clenching on her hot skin, tried not to think about the sound of the material slipping away, only what she had wanted to say to him for years.

"That I was too young to understand what happened then. That it wasn't until years later that I realised you had been deprived of more than an eye that night. That I can't sleep. That something in me died that day." She whispered with difficulty, tears of grief, fear and horror running down the sides of her face onto the stone floor he pressed her against.

She saw that he had stopped in mid-motion, breathing loudly, his lips pressed together, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"I will not give you back to your mother-whore. I will keep you as my payment for the harm she has done to me." He said coolly, furrowing his brow, looking at her as if he was explaining to her that it was the only reasonable thing to do.

Her heart pounded like crazy as she thought what she was doing was working.

That it wasn't rape per se that was his goal, but the appropriation of something precious that belonged to her mother, so that he could have a sense of atonement.

She nodded, trying to calm herself, wanting him to remain calm too.

"Very well." She whispered quietly, something in his face changed, a sort of surprise passed across his eye. He let out a loud sigh, as if he expected that only when he took her by force would she agree.

"For years I have suffered with the thought of that day. I will compensate you as best I can." She mumbled softly, a final, solitary tear running down her face.

She tried with all her might to think of that boy she loved so dearly and not the monstrous man who had just looked at her.

"Hm." He hummed again, letting her go, rising from his lap, his watchful gaze directed straight at her.

She grabbed her neck, drawing in air loudly, turning onto her stomach, quivering all over.

She heard the clang of steel and the sound of a loud filling. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, breathing hard, and noticed that he had poured himself some wine.

He moved slowly towards the chair opposite her and sat down with a loud creak of wood, arranging himself comfortably, crossing his legs.

"I await my compensation." He said lightly, as if amused, taking a loud sip from his cup, his healthy eye staring at her wide-eyed with a sharp, expectant gaze, his lips stretched in a lazy, dangerous grin.

She swallowed loudly, standing up slowly, feeling her legs refuse to obey her, thinking strenuously what she should do.

"No man would want me for a wife after this." She sobbed out with difficulty, looking at him horrified, and he chuckled under his breath, cocking his head to the side.

"If you please me enough, I will take you as my wife in the tradition of Old Valyria, and our children will be my official heirs." He said dryly, and she felt her heart begin to pound like mad, she shook her head as if she did not believe what he was saying.

"− your grandfather − your future wife − they would never −"

"− I don't give a shit about them − only my word counts in this matter − do you understand? −" He asked loudly, looking up at her from below, tapping his fingers on the armrest at his last word. She pressed her lips together, looking at him pleadingly.

"− we both know you won't marry me − you despise me − I −"

"I will be merciful and spare you from giving birth to my bastards. I will either marry you or kill you, depending on how much I like what you do now." He said softly, something like a gleam in his eye, content with this insightful thought, his cup reached his lips again as he took a greedy sip from it.

She clenched her hands into fists, knowing what he desired, knowing that if she didn't give it to him, he would take it anyway, violently and aggressively, and then just cut her throat.

She thought with despair that if she could spare herself even a little pain, she would.

He swallowed loudly, looking at her watchfully as she approached him with a slow, unhurried step, wordlessly sitting on his lap, her hair still wet from the rain, partly pinned back in a bun, partly lowered loosely down her back.

She raised her trembling hands to the buckles of her cloak, undoing them with a slow movement, his gaze fixed on her fingers. He lifted his gaze to her face, drinking quickly the remnant of wine he had in his goblet, looking greedily after a moment at her drenched gown, through which material he could see almost everything.

She felt something in his breeches pulse hard beneath her, and then again and again, becoming harder and harder.

"I don't know what to do, uncle." She whispered quietly, begging him in a way to end her humiliation, to just show her what he wanted and leave her alone.

He looked at her suddenly, humming again in his low, thoughtful, throaty tone, his hand slipping beneath the material of her underskirt, touching shamelessly her naked thigh, finally digging his fingertips into the soft skin of her hip, pressing her closer to him, forcing her to rub againt what was beneath her with slow back and forth movements.

She saw him part his lips, his other hand quickly set the cup down on the small table standing next to them and swiftly joined his first hand, also tightening on her hip. She felt the rocking movements of her hips tease something between her thighs, tickling her at the same time and making her shiver.

"Spread my breeches to the sides." He commanded in a hoarse, trembling voice looking at her expectantly, licking his lower lip in an involuntary, quick motion.

She did as he instructed and suddenly felt something hard and throbbing press against her naked body, she drew in the air loudly guessing what it was. She felt him take his manhood in his hand in a confident movement.

"Lift up and slide it inside you." He said coolly, but the tone of his voice betrayed some kind of excitement, his healthy eye open wide.

She swallowed loudly, resting her hands on his shoulders for balance, breathing loudly, trying not to think about how scared she was, how much she wanted to go home, his sapphire eye gleamed dangerously in the dark.

She settled against him and felt the fat head of his length push against her folds, sliding in just a little, stretching her slit painfully to all sides. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a quiet sigh of discomfort, a throaty groan escaping his lips.

"− fuck − keep going −" He exhaled, not moving however, his hand holding his manhood in such a position that it stood perpendicular to her body.

She bit her lips, gasping with effort as she tried to fit him deeper inside her, another loud, involuntary groan escaped his lips, he threw his head back, clenching his healthy eye, clasping his hand on her bare buttocks. He opened it suddenly and looked at her, breathing loudly through his mouth.

One brutal, sudden thrust of his hips startled her and tore something inside her, she cried out and convulsed in pain shaking all over, his large hands stroking her thighs reassuringly.

He knew he had just taken her maidenhood.

"− shhh − shhh −" He hushed her, rocking inside her with slow, steady rhythm of his hips, looking at her with misty eyes full of something she didn't understand, a single tear of horror and humiliation ran down her cheek.

She drew in a loud breath as he lifted his one hand to her face, his thumb rubbing the wet stain from her cheek, and then his fingers tightened on the nape of her neck, drawing her closer, snuggling her face into the hollow of his neck.

Stunned and helpless, she clenched her hands on the material of his leather tunic, seeking refuge in her tormentor, wishing only that he would not cause her any more pain.

"− hush − it's all right − look how easy it's sliding in now −" He whispered quietly into her ear, his length slipping softly all the way into her only to slide out almost completely, teasing something inside her. His movements began to become increasingly slippery, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a quiet, sticky click.

"− just like that − just a little longer −" He cooed, stroking her wet hair, placing almost tender kisses on her temple, panting along with her with each of his movements, her body bouncing slightly with each of his thrusts.

She snuggled into him tighter, just wanting to hide, to escape, his neck smelling of smoke, sweat, rain. She closed her eyes, trying to relax, and he groaned loudly feeling her body stop resisting him, his lips roaming over her wet cheek, placing moist, sticky kisses on it.

"− I know − I know − 'm close −" He whispered with some kind of care from which a shudder went through her, the thought that when he did this she might soon expect his child.

She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought feeling the tears burning under her eyelids again, sobbing quietly, embracing him tightly, his thrusts getting faster and louder, slamming his swollen, fat cock into her again and again, both of them began to moan, his one hand clenched in her hair, the other squeezed her hip.

"− how could you leave me − I was waiting for you then − ah − all fucking night − but it doesn't matter − you're mine now − g-gods − fuck! −" He exhaled loudly, panting heavily along with her, his words making her feel her core throbbing around him, sucking him inside, some warm liquid spilling inside her and suddenly it was all over.

They sat cuddled together like that for long minutes, their breaths calming, not speaking or moving, just embracing each other, his face nestled into her hair, his nose pressed against her cheek.

"From now on everything will be as it should be, wife."

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Alternative Universe Series: The Fall from the Heavens

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Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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seakicker · 2 years

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N-need more … zhongli and chubby goddess reader .. or I’ll collapse

*catches you as you’re falling* fret not, anon… you’ve come to the right person for all things Squish related….

fem + chubby reader, an unofficial but totally official continuation to my rex lapis x chubby archon reader from the other day, body worship, and thighfucking below!

rex lapis who summons his darling little goddess of fertility wife with a simple call of your name— after he was gracious enough to take you in and grant you his protection, you quickly decided that being at his beck and call was in your best interest. who would you be to fight him, deny him, or stall him when he awarded you more kindness and graciousness than he’s ever awarded anyone else? when he calls for you, you answer, and now is no different.

you enter the room with a clumsy curtsy, folding your hands in front of you as he flips through a stack of papers. “my beloved,” he says simply, deep amber eyes leaving the contract he’s proofreading and gazing up at you. “come closer.”

“are you coming to bed soon?” you ask sweetly, trying to tread lightly so you don’t accidentally ask any invasive questions about his work. it’s none of your business— you’re not the god of contracts.

he only shakes his head, sighing and setting his papers down. “not anytime within the hour, i’m afraid. there’s much to be done before i meet with that troublesome archon of war tomorrow afternoon.”

you can’t hide your disappointment. you were hoping he’d resign himself to bed early for once so you could invite him to snuggle and hopefully then some. he works so hard— you’d like to take care of your husband even if he’s not generally the affectionate type.

and how he’d like to leave his paperwork for the night and fill his palms with something a little softer and sweeter than the stained, tattered cloth of ancient scrolls and contracts. how he’d like to indulge in the soft, comforting warmth only his wife is able to provide— rex lapis is inclined to believe that you’re hoping to tempt him into bed with the way you’re dressed. how sweet— his demure, flustered little wife wants to rile him up.

your nightgown is sheer enough to easily make out the outline of your areolas through the fabric and tiny enough to catch where it clings to your ample waist and soft belly— is there anything more erotic than seeing the gentle curve of your plump belly visible in your tight pajamas and sheer gowns? he doesn’t believe so.

answering his prior request, you make your way over to his desk. the candlelight coming from his workspace illuminates your body nicely— your husband really can make out the outline of your soft tits through the sheer silk of your nightgown.

“and is this your way of inviting me to bed?” he asks, expression completely neutral. oh, archons— is he going to mock you for such a pitiful attempt? scold you for attempting to interrupt his work? dismiss you with a disappointed sigh and a flick of his wrist? your husband is by no means cruel, but he does tend to be… cold.

“i thought that— it’s not… it’s not like that, i was just… getting comfortable,” you answer in a tiny voice, fiddling with the hem of your nightgown and tugging your bottom lip in between your teeth. “is it… no good?”

rex lapis replaces his quill pen in its dish of ink and sets it aside. “apologies, i didn’t mean it like that. it looks lovely on you, truly.”

“thank you, my love.”

rex lapis swallows hard— how do you always manage to be so sweet? how have you lived so many centuries untouched by the sin, wrath, and war every other god hasn’t been able to escape? how do you always manage to chip at his cold exterior?

“come here a moment,” he murmurs, hands settling on your soft waist. the way your body easily gives beneath his hands and allows him to get a good grip on you does more to him than he’d ever admit. soft and easily manipulated like bread dough, warm like a quilt left to dry in the sunlight all day, and more comforting than any of teyvat’s finest luxuries. you allow him to tug you into his lap, your arms shakily wrapping around his shoulders to better balance yourself on his thighs.

“this truly does look lovely on you. shall we go to the harbor tomorrow and purchase more silk to craft you a few more?” rex lapis offers, one of his dark, dully glowing hands sliding up the apex of one of your plump thighs. “perhaps paired with a necklace carved from cor lapis as well.”

his other hand gently maps the curve of your neck and your shoulder, relishing in the way you shiver and breathe his name quietly. you say nothing as he continues to trace your body like he’s drafting a map of liyue, his fingers dipping into the valley of your cleavage before retreating and drawing over the plump swells of your breasts.

“beautiful,” he murmurs contently, resting his face in the crook of your neck. “not a thing in all of teyvat could ever provide a man, mortal or immortal, with the same comfort and security his wife can.”

a hand grabbing at the soft tuft of your lower belly makes you shiver against his thighs, inadvertently rutting yourself against his leg as he gropes a generous handful of your tummy.

“lovely indeed,” he says matter-of-factly, as if he’s confirming a theory. “this softness serves as its own testament to a life of comfort, luxury, and generosity. my hands have long since worn down to callouses and bone from never-ending war and, as i’m sure you’ve noticed, my body is lined with a electric storm of scars after having sustained so many injuries. but you…”

your husband cups the plump heft of your belly in one of his broad palms, soft and undeniably warm against his skin as he massages your tummy with determination. “but you, my dearest… you stand for all the things i’ve fought for all this time. safety, comfort, and prosperity. a body this lovely is no greater proof of that.”

rex lapis cups your waist once more and gently drags you against one of his muscled thighs, sighing in delight in response to your surprised and pleasured moans. oh, he’d just love to eat you up.

“please allow me to continue worshipping your body as any man ought to worship his beloved, my love.”

#i need more of cold rex lapis x sweet soft archon of fertility reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #fertility archon reader #juju bakery #chubby reader #fem reader

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tenderfxck · 1 year

Note

hello!!! i really like ur sub characters they make me giggle ngl cause like awww <3 if it’s okay can I request a Zhongli x reader where during the night he lets his half dragon form out while he rests, so he has his horns and tail out but still looks human (I think that is his morax form) however the reader doesn’t know about him being a dragon so one night as he has his form out, she is having a wet dream and poor Li’ has to grit his teeth and try not to whimper and buck his hips up as she grinds and humps his tail :(( poor baby is getting all the stimulation but not enough at this same time :(( Eventually he’ll come and twitch while slapping a hand over his mouth to stop his whining as his beloved continues to grind all over his tail, rubbing its most sensitive parts and he just has to endure the overstimulation. (Have a good day!)

zhongli//restless night//f!reader//18+

contents: half dragon! zhongli, f!reader, somno, accidental voyerism, shit anon you got me good T T

notes: AAAAAH i'm so late, sorry this took forever, there was a whole lot going on in my life but i’m still so happy you sent this spicy prompt to me, it was so much fun to write💕

it was a time of rest. a time when he allowed himself to relax just enough that he wouldn’t have to keep up the appearance of a human anymore.

the long amber horns were allowed to sprout from his temples, while his long tail resembling that color of oudh wood was permitted to spread itself across the fine sheets that wangshu inn provided.

and yet, now you have spread yourself across him. . .

this certainly wasn’t the plan, but can anything ever go accordingly when it comes to you?

zhongli wasn't expecting to be in such a vulnerable position with you. he was typically vigilant about hiding his dragon-like form, dismissing himself from your company to his own room for the night before unwinding.

but tonight, wangshu inn was fully booked except for one solitary room.

with only one bed.

you fussed about the arrangement, but zhongli merely chuckled, assuring you that as long as you were comfortable, he did not mind the prospect of sharing.

so the two of you shared this bed together. zhongli had thought absolutely nothing of it. he'll just retain his human form all night.

well, that was the plan, until he felt your weight dip the other side of the mattress, settling so comfortably against his form as you quickly dozed off. he could smell the sweet scent of your perfume, feel the soft cotton of your nightgown against him. it was just so. . .cozy. warm and safe

soon enough, zhongli could feel his human form slipping, sprouting those more dragon-like traits without him noticing.

well. . .then he'll just wake up before your pretty eyes even think to flutter open. zhongli will change back and you'll never be the wiser to this altered state he finds himself in now.

yes, a fine plan.

(and one that would let him indulge in the warmth and comfort of you as he dozed off)

but of course, that's when you saw fit to strike upon him.

it is had all started so innocently. just you clinging to him, snuggled up so cutely even as he faced away from you. you had been positioned against him, cradling his back as you spooned his resting form. his great tail was in between those soft thighs, but zhongli had decent enough self-control to ignore it.

that’s when he first felt the thrust of your hips.

he was on the cusp of waking and asleep until the sudden motion enticed him away from the edge.

he thought nothing much of it. just the shifting of your body to a more comfortable position. he was settling in to his pillow once again when he felt the rock of hips against his tail again.

a gasp was caught in his throat, unsure if what happened wasn't just an active imagination on his part. zhongli held his breath, waiting to see if it was just a trick of his mind.

and then there it was again. a long, drawn out stroke of your hips. and this time, the heavenly sigh of your voice to accompany it.

zhongli grit his teeth, listening intently for any sign that you had awoken, but all that graced his ears was your soft snores accompanied by tiny little whimpers escaping you.

unknowingly, in a fit of passion only clear to you in whatever blissful dream your sleeping form had conjured up, you were nonetheless grinding upon zhongli’s ridged tail in what was now becoming a slow, yet steady pace.

“a-ah~ excuse me,” he stuttered, barely able to process the scene enfolding behind him. he stumbled over his words, desperately searching for any way to wake you up without mortifying the two of you. “you seem to be-aah!” zhongli couldn’t contain that little outburst. he gasped at the steady friction you provided.

zhongli couldn’t believe the circumstances. he turned his head, chancing a look back upon your peaceful form.

sure enough you were still soundly asleep, unaware of the lewd situation playing out before you.

it didn’t help that his tail was overly sensitive to stimuli (something left over from more primordial days) and especially that of your wet cunt catching on each prominent bump along his long tail.

“a-ah, wait, that’s. . . nngh!” zhongli tried to protest. he knew the implications this would have if you were to wake up and discover more than just the illicit situation you found yourselves in.

but zhongli had desired you for so long. thought about just what noises you would make in circumstances like this long before he found himself here tonight. and now it was all coming true. right in his ear.

and right against him. . .

fuck. your needy pussy humping his sensitive tail was just too much. the worst part is he could feel just exactly how wet you had gotten using him to get yourself off. he grasps at the waistband of his pants, dragging them down and letting his already weeping cock spring forth from the cotton confines.

it’d shame him to admit just how quickly this little routine had him stiff and aching in his pants. but his self restraint had already eroded to much.

if you were enjoying yourself, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to indulge himself as well?

zhongli took his cock in hand and began to slowly stroke, focusing on the distinct feeling of you moving against him. he bit his tongue, willing any moans to die on his lips before he dares disturbs your slumber.

it continued like that for archons knows how long. the thrust of your hips, followed by zhongli silencing his moans and fisting his cock quicker, all while enduring all those sweet little whimpers escaping you as you chased your own pleasure on his tail.

it was too much. too much stimulation, too many little sounds. the slick of your cunt against him, the wet noise of him fucking his own fist, the knowledge that you were so close, using him to get yourself off while that pretty little head dreamt about all sorts of perverse things.

too much. too much. he’s gonna-!

he comes with a particularly deep grind of your twitching pussy gliding against his now glistening scales. he clasped a trembling hand over his mouth, willing himself quieter as dragon fangs catch against his palm, feeling himself finally come undone. he basks in the sensation of you humping so diligently against his most vulnerable area as he spills his thick load all over himself.

he panted, tremors still finding their way through his body as he lay spent, thighs and stomach covered in his seed.

he gasped, moaning and twitching in the aftermath.

yet you still continued.

fuck. fuck. archons, you weren’t stopping-!

you kept on grinding onto his newly overstimmed tail, letting out those sweet little whimpers, chasing that high while zhongli has to sit and bear this whole lewd scene as he writhed and panted against you.

this was going to be a long night. . .

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blueberrypancakesworld · 2 months

Note

i dare to confess that I have been BURDENED with the thought of ice skating with claude frollo. I bet he's so graceful and good at it... I'm swooning... [this is me humbly requesting ideas of such a thing in writing form... but you do not HAVE to!!! it could also just be me.... gently implanting the thought into your mind.... for your enjoyment :D]

Ice Skating in Love

warning : fluff/comfort, kissing

Info : Well the thought is really pretty I need to say so here its is (and he would really be a sight to see him liek this. So dear anon have fun reading and everyone else too :)

~~~~~~~~~~~

The light was still on in the town's courthouse and from the candles to the facades and chandeliers it seemed to be the only house at this time of night where the occupants were still awake. But it was not uncommon for his work as a judge to be long.

His wife, his beloved wife, spent hours working on her sheet music for the king, the people for festivals and for her husband. But she could not have known that this night in the winter of the city, which was becoming long, had a surprise in store for her.

Footsteps walked across the wood as he knocked gently on her bedroom door. ,,Darling? Are you awake I want to show you something, will you please come?" he said as he heard footsteps behind the door just a moment later.

The young woman opened the door and came to him in the hallway. ,,It's already night, isn't it?" she asked, wearing a warm robe under her white nightgown, having long since taken off the clothes she wore during the day.

He had helped her with the lacing, which seemed to take her breath away every day, but was soothed by his tender touch. ,,Yes, put on something warm, I'll wait outside in the carriage… hurry up, darling," he said before he disappeared with a nod.

She heard him go down the stairs, open the main door and get into the carriage at this late hour. With a sigh, she went back to her room and put on one of the lighter dresses with laces before reaching for the furs he had given her as a present at the beginning of the colder season.

The fur of the animals from the forest outside the city were not only expensive in number but she knew he would buy her anything since the marriage a few months ago.

She was like a flower in his darkness, even if he was still using harshness and brutality to cleanse the city, she could at least make him happy at home.

Turning out the lights and hurrying down the stairs, she shivered a little as she looked back at the house outside. ,,Sleep is denied," she thought and scurried into the carriage, seeing that Frollo was already waiting for her before the carriage began to move with a knock from him.

,,Where are we going, my lord?" she asked, seeing his smirk at the nickname he knew she used in public, but she was only supposed to be confused by what he had wanted to show her was something new.

,,My lady will have to get used to it…such a cold season is deadly, we don't have much time but it's always for you," he said and lowered his eyes on her, judging her and giving her a hold for a moment.

He knew about her fear of winter, the illnesses in which she had lost most of her family members, the time when people died from the heavy snow. ,,Don't worry, it'll be fine," he murmured and she looked out of the carriage as she saw them moving towards the square in front of the church.

,,Evening mass or prayer?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she adjusted her fur hat. She saw him smirk and nod slightly. ,,Not quite right but there you go," he replied and moments later they stopped at the place before she could even get up, he had opened the door and just said,

,,Close your eyes" before he went to her side and helped her out, his hand surprising her w arm was also without a glove before she felt the stone under her shoes. It was slippery but manageable before he led her a few meters further.

He stood behind her, ,,Open your eyes," he said and heard the surprised sound coming from her. She looked around, torches were lit, the lights of the church were lit, and the candles were shining down into the courtyard when she saw a kind of lake.

A body of water frozen and surrounded by wood like a railing. ,,A frozen lake!" she said in surprise, remembering her childhood when her family used to go ice-skating on the lake, but this was unbelievable.

,,I had it made in a couple of mornings for the residents, but now it's for you," he murmured to her and gave her a gentle kiss as he fetched the skates from the carriage and helped her step into them.

,,You go first," she said, wanting to see if he could do it despite his age, even if he was more than confident in his abilities, she was afraid he might break something.

To her surprise he was like a fire only a few laps around the ice he moved close to perfect no jumps but turns positions and it looked like he was dancing with the fire around him. It was handsome it was the image of a painter as his cape moved with him the ribbons on his hat accompanied him.

,,Wonderfully handsome," she murmured and slowly came closer and he stretched out his hand to help her get used to the ice after all these years. ,,You're beautiful and handsome," he said with a grin before circling around her, encouraging her and holding her when she was about to fall.

But she didn't, she held on to him, kissed him, thanked him and they both stayed on the ice until the sun came up, enjoying their well-deserved rest together in the warm bed. It was, however, that she dreamed of someone wonderful, someone who could move beautifully on the ice.

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

#disney movies #the hunchback of notre dame #judge claude frollo #claude frollo x reader #frollo x reader

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proosh · 23 days

Note

what was that about gil having dreams about the future? (no pressure!)

Oh anon my beloved thank you so much; I dropped that little tidbit into that post hoping someone would ask about it

The truth is that while it is a strongly held headcanon of mine, it’s something of half a historical in-joke, and half a metanarrative indulgence. I’ll cover both of these respectively, in case you want just the historical reasoning and not so much my deranged meta-analysis on nations, narrative, and metanarrative. With this in mind;

Prussia as Cassandra, A Meta

A brief historical overview

The Old Prussians practiced omen-reading and regarded seers with high regard, which was acknowledged as valid by the Teutonic Knights (when the omens predicted victory in battle, at least) and was practised by both men and women

White Ladies are supposedly ghosts of women who haunt the Hohenzollern family as omens of misfortune and especially as messengers of coming death. Notably, Queen Sophia Louise was once afflicted by a bout of madness in 1709 and dressed only in her white nightgown and having cut herself on some broken glass and screamed at King Frederick I (grandfather of Fritz) that "the plague would devour the king of Babylon". In part due to the White Lady folklore, he took this with serious regard and proceeded to prepare Berlin against the upcoming plague (which very much devastated wide swathes of both Prussia and the rest of Northern Europe)

Bismarck very probably never actually said the famous "damned foolish thing in the Balkans" quote that people like to trot out about the inevitability of World War 1 so I hesitate to include it here as historical fact, but for the purposes of elaborating on the "historical in-joke" half of this meta I will gesture to it as a vague suggestion of an ironic future-vision that, as I will discuss shortly, I think makes a certain degree of narrative sense.

Now, moving on to the narrative background and arguably the meat of this meta:

Narrative analysis

Entire books could and have been written about the depiction of history, and the fictionalisation of history for the purposes of narrative storytelling, especially in regards to the personification of abstract concepts like nation-states and their associated concepts. Unfortunately I cannot afford to go to university so you are getting this post instead.

For the purposes of this discussion strict literal academic historicity is not our goal, but rather HWS Prussia as a narrative construct within the sandbox of Hetalia as a story that involves and adapts history but is not necessarily directly representative of it.

Within this frame of analysis, Prussia as a character is a distinctly weird choice for Himaruya to make: To establish him as an ongoing, extant entity in the modern day is definitely A Narrative Choice to make, and honestly not really one I could personally imagine making. Perhaps it's a lingering result of questionable initial research, perhaps there's some meat to chew on in regards to this.

Prussia's design is one that stands out, compared to the rest of the mostly-naturalistic cast. We have the initial design concept for him depicting him as an older, rugged man, and we also have his very early canon design that depicts him with blond hair and blue eyes. However, the decision was made at some point relatively early on to change his design to be distinctly and notably Not Natural: Some debate has been made about to what degree is he actually albino, but the design is still notable for being distinctly 'set apart' from the other nations.

From there, we have to start asking questions about why this decision was made. My personal first thought was perhaps it was inherently tied to his creation as an "unnatural" state in the form of the Teutonic Knights. Voltaire's popular quote about Prussia not being a nation with an army, but rather an army with a nation might come to mind. However, we have been provided with the designs of the other Orders and they don't share his design traits in favour of their own design language, meaning that line of question falls short.

From there, I think it's not unreasonable to suggest that Prussia was designed - in his final, canon form - with his dissolution in mind. It sets him apart visibly from the rest of the established nations, and fundamentally Others him from the rest of the cast - a similar design concept used with Russia, who is within the canon framework of Hetalia, heavily associated with the sinister supernatural as signaled by his unnaturally coloured eyes.

Therefore, on a narrative level, Prussia's appearance foreshadows his own death, and his death was inevitable from the very beginning.

(Turns out the Calvinists were right, huh?)

With all that in mind, I don't find it unreasonable to take that dramatic narrative irony and apply that inherent 'friction' to the rest of Prussia's story: His narrative is haunted by his own death.

By virtue of his creation and his design (and within the framework of the text, his existence) he is doomed to die, and that singular event ripples back through his narrative almost like a psychic shockwave. Everything he Is points towards The End.

When that End comes, it 'releases' a good deal of that narrative tension. Himaruya has said that he designed Prussia to be something of a villainous character and the dissolution provides the suitable narrative endpoint in that regard. However.

The narrative framework of Hetalia continues, as the history it adapts tends to do, which begins to create a new form of narrative tension due to The Decision to have Prussia continue existing into the 'modern' setting. Himaruya has been incredibly cagey about this and besides the ongoing mystery of The HRE Situation the topic of Prussia's ongoing existence is something he's been noticeably coy about in his discussions and implications of East Germany and the following Reunification, but that's an entirely separate essay from what this one is about.

Fundamentally, I think that Prussia - as a narrative construct - is inherently and on a foundational level tied to his own eventual nonexistence, and the dramatic tension of What Comes After. I think he knows, on some primal, unfathomable level, and rages against it right up until it comes for him and he has to learn how to pick up the pieces of himself, his legacy, and his own narrative.

With that intrinsic narrative irony in mind, I don’t think it is too out there to suggest that he possibly (unintentionally, unconsciously) channels the future-sight that keeps cropping up in Prussian history, as noted above. At least in some form, I think he resonates with the coming End in a way that he cannot fully comprehend or articulate and like the Cassandra of myth there is nothing he can do to warn about or avert the doom that he sees and senses.

Troy could not be saved, and neither can he.

But that's just a theory. A game theor—

If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! This really got away from me and I really do hope that it's at least somewhat comprehensible.

#hws prussia #hetalia meta #mine #my writing #from the askbox

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sinfulskywalker · 2 years

Note

*pokes head in* give me your darkest Din headcannons👀 *hands hundred dollar bill*

Anon how did you know I'm a slut for money AND DinLuke? Who told you of these secrets? Well a (hypothetical) paying customer is here and my business you shall have 🥰

TW: Dark!Fic, BoBF spoilers, Haunted Din, Spanking, NSFW, Domestic discipline, kidnapping.

"You must choose Grogu. Should you choose the armor, you may return to The Mandalorian. But should you choose the saber, you will be my first student and I shall train you to be a great Jedi." Grogu looks at each gift. He misses his strong protective Buir but he loves, kind and sweet Master Luke. He cannot live without and places each clawed hand on both items. Luke's breath hitches as he feels a dark presence behind him along with strong fingers curling around his neck and jaw stroking him tenderly. Luke wishes he had held his tongue or not spoken so loudly. He hadn't sensed The Manda'lor watching them in the dark.

"It seems OUR son has chosen, Jedi." Is all Din says.

Din doesn't tolerate disrespect. Not for his son, not from a random stranger and certainly not from Luke, his Consort. Luke fights him tooth and nail that he will not be going with Din. He has a Galaxy to help and a sacred religion to save.

"Din you're haunted!" Luke warns. "That saber has-" Din interrupts him. "I don't care." He's more powerful, stronger and dare he admit a little braver. The saber tells him Luke's inner thoughts of escaping with Grogu and Din plans to stop them all.

Luke tells when he's placed a bit roughly over Din's lap in the echoing throne room. He's pinned and cannot move aside from a bit of a wiggle. Luke curses at him, pleas and even begs for Din to let him go, but it won't be happening. Luke tried to escape and that's something Din cannot have. "You tried to leave us, Luke. I'm sorry beloved, but your place is with me and you'll be quick to find that out."

Each slap was agonizing with a side of humiliating. Luke had never felt such stings smacked against the soft and tender areas of his backside. He cries for Din to stop, that it hurts, Din is hurting him. Din wants to scoff. His little Jedi is hurt from a smacking? It's cute how Luke is already sobbing even though his peachy bum is a bit pink and hot. That's nothing to what Din wants to do.

"You have not been properly placed in your entire life, little one. I intend to see that you know where you will stand. I'll give you a hot, it's never far from me." Din growls. Luke is teary faced and sobbing. His thighs were stinging and he felt as if he'd never sit ever again if Din wouldn't let up. But this dark energy around Din is scaring him. It's as if The King is on autopilot.

Luke is eventually forgiven by the king, made to kneel and have his head patted and forehead kissed as he's not allowed any relief for his well spanked bum. Din gives him a sheer nightgown for "modesty" but it does nothing to change the fact Luke is so tired and torn from fighting.

"Let those feelings go, little one. Those....attachments as you called them." Din hushes him in bed. Even when his Riddur was naughty, Din would upkeep his oath as a husband and ensure Luke went to bed satisfied. The poor little Jedi feels the weight of the world on his shoulders, the darksaber informs Din. Din will change that.

He starts with Luke's smart mouth. Consorts are seen, not heard. Luke fights him at every inch to stop the muzzle (as he calls it) from going on his face and in his mouth. Din offers a suggestion of Luke finding other resources to fill his pretty mouth with, though Luke would be kneeling and Din's pants would be down. That shuts Luke up.

Luke is cut from the force, but only a little. The cuffs around his wrists and collar are adorned in pretty jewels so Luke shouldn't feel ugly but he cries and he's scared. He cannot hear Grogu, or his former master's or his father's words. Din thinks this is for the better. The less influence the more progress. Grogu is upset too, but the darksaber assures his adi'ka that Luke needs them both to be strong. Master Luke feels very Ill and silly and Grogu will do anything to help Master Luke. He cuddles on his lap and snuggles during Naptime.

Sometimes it's Grogu that keeps Luke sane.

Luke refuses food, so he's fed. It's a slow process as well but Din will not have Luke go on a stupid hunger strike because he's annoyed. With each mouthful Din puts in Luke's mouth is another small victory for Din. It's a daily occurrence but Din doesn't mind. His Consort has his ways of getting his attention.

Luke feels he's on a leash. "Do not stray far, beloved." Din tells him as he takes Grogu out to play. No Jedi training. Playing. Luke watches as Grogu hunts for frogs to snack on or chases an animal and worries if he's doing the right thing by not fighting Din as much as he should. The sting on his bum reminds him good and well it's not worth it.

"What a beautiful consort, Manda'lor. So polite and well mannered, and he's very fond on the eyes." Compliments roll Din and Luke's way and Din admires his Consort dressed in jewels, red satins and glitter veils. This is the life Luke was meant to have. A pretty little thing to be admired, founded over, envious of. It had been two years since Luke and his son were brought home. And only a few months since Luke's escape attempt or blowout. He's more reserved, more soft spoken, more polite and respectful.

Din planned on keeping it that way.

#star wars #luke skywalker #anon #anon asks #dinluke #din djarin #dinluke family #din x luke #clan of three #dark fic #hot damn that was long

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quietmyfearswith · 3 years

Text

fussy ; preferences

warnings — don’t think there’s any swear words here,, angst? fluff? clingy!reader, mean!laurie

characters — andy barber, steve rogers, bucky barnes, lance tucker, syverson, august walker

a/n — THIS IS A DDLG FIC,, was inspired by this ask! to the anon who requested for it i hope you like it and tell me what you think!

their love language | with their little | when you’re insecure | slipping into little space

masterlist

Andy and Y/N went over to the city where Laurie and Jacob moved to. A party was held to celebrate Jacob’s graduation from high school and a sendoff for when he heads to university. Y/N was chatting up with Jacob as they both were preparing the snacks and appetizers for the guests that would later on arrive. The two didn’t feel awkward around each other; in fact they shared a lot of similarities, and could easily converse about anything. “Jacob, I think some of your friends are here already,” With that Jacob politely excused himself and before Y/N could find Andy, Laurie approached her. “So you and Andy are still together huh?” She sounded amused which made her feel awkward; she nodded to answer her question. “I’m surprised that you two lasted for so long,” Y/N had to step back in order to create distance between her and Laurie. “I mean, when I heard that you two were dating I thought that it was just Andy having a rebound; I didn’t actually think he’d stay this long with you.” Y/N’s lips were starting to quiver as her frantics eyes began to look around for Andy. As she locked eyes with Andy, she made me a move to go for him but just before she can do so, Laurie had a final jab at her with a smirk, “Perhaps he still is in that phase.”

Pushing her way past Laurie, she headed to enter the house, Andy noticed how Y/N’s demeanor changed and handed over some of the decorations he was putting up to Laurie’s boyfriend and chased after her. Grabbing her arm, the lawyer guided the two to one of the vacant rooms, “What's wrong?” Y/N made grabby hands for Andy once she sat on the bed, her eyes were letting down a few tears that were peeking earlier due to what Laurie had been saying. He complied, engulfing her around in his warm embrace, stroking her hair as he was trying his best to calm her down as her whole body shook, “She was being mean to me, dada.” Andy moved a bit so he could see her face and wiped away tears that stained her face, “Who was being mean to you, missy?” After taking deep breaths, Y/N explained, “Laurie said the only reason dada is with me is because I’m your rebound.” Anger fueled within Andy upon hearing the lie that was told to his love; he decided that it was best to talk about it with Laurie later, but his focus right now was calming down the beloved girl in his arms. Situating her in his lap, he pressed loving kisses all over her face as his hands comfortingly rubbed her back, “Whatever she said to you isn’t true, missy. Dada loves you and you’re not his rebound. You’re the love and light of my life; you are the person that completes me.”

Y/N was mad at August; he burnt her nuggies, didn’t play with her during her playtime, and now he opted to sleep in the other room since he was too far busy with his work. Tossing and turning around their spacious bed didn’t lull her to sleep since she missed the warmth and love provided to her by her loving boyfriend. Gripping her stuffie with one hand, she stood and left the bed, venturing to the part of the house where she suspected her daddy would be. Barefoot and in her nightgown, she knocked on the door and with the lack of answer, she entered slowly.

Seeing her daddy with no shirt and just some sweatpants on the bed made her long for the moments she’d get to spend all day wrapped in his arms. Quietly climbing on the bed, she moved his arm that was stretched across the mattress, lifting it and placing it above her body. Feeling movement around him, August moved his head and sleepily mumbled, “Little one?” She nodded as she kissed his forehead, “It’s me, daddy.” On instinct, he turned so his whole body faced hers; wrapping his legs around hers as his arms scooped her arm so her side was flushed against his, “Not mad at daddy anymore?” Shaking her head, she played with his chest hairs a bit as her eyes began to sleepily drop before confirming, “Not mad, daddy. I missed being with you.”

It was going to be a big mission; Bucky knew that hence why he was packing and repacking his duffel bags that he’d be bringing for the mission. “Tătic,” Y/N wailed, “Come be with me!” Despite being a man of control, it took every ounce of it for Bucky not to drop what he was doing and cuddle up Y/N. “Not now, sweetheart. I need to make sure I have everything.” The girl let out a loud grunt as she continued watching her favorite cartoons with her arms crossed; the sergeant not appreciating the slight presence of her brat attitude by yelling, “I heard that!”

“I just want my tătic to be with me before he leaves me again,” There was less anger in her sentence but more sadness. And even when he was in the other side of their living quarters, the super soldier was able to pick it up which led him to finish up quickly arranging his things to find his girl pouting as she watched. Sitting beside her he patted his lap, “Come sit here, sweetie.” The girl leapt out and did so as she snuggled the top of her head against Bucky’s chin. “Is that what this is all about, sweetie? You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone?” Nodding, she fiddled with the fingers on his metal arm; she always loved the coldness it always had. “I always miss you, tătic; I wanna spend as much time with you as I can before you leave.”

Y/N knew Steve would be coming back soon from his meeting so she busied herself by having a tea party with her stuffies. “There you go, Bunbun, be careful now the tea’s quite hot,” She spoke to her stuffie as she poured him some of the imaginary liquid. When she heard some keys shake accompanied by the sound of the door unlocking, Y/N bounced from where she was sitting and excitedly turned to where the sounds were coming from. Smiling widely, her eyes glimmered with excitement and relief that finally her daddy was here, “How’s my little doll?”

“Want you to hold me please sir? I missed you!” She requested softly but didn’t move from where she was seated — knowing that she wasn’t given the permission yet to move. Steve then sat beside her and patted his lap, and the girl took it as her cue to hover him. Wrapping her arms around his neck she took the super soldier back in surprise with the force for he lost balance and ended up laying down as he chuckles loudly at his girl’s antics. “You missed me too much? I was only gone for a few hours, doll,” But she pouted at him and instead countered, “Few hours too long, sir!” Sitting up with the girl still tightly latched onto him, Steve then kissed her nose as he promised, “Well you get me for the rest of the day now, doll; what do you wanna do?”

Even following his retirement from the army, Syverson saw to it that he exercises everyday to keep in shape. As he was doing his pushups in the backyard, he was surprised to see his Y/N come out in the sun with a tray of cold beverages. “What you got there, baby girl?” He mused as he paused his workout and sat down on the mat. Smiling as she drank from her cup she beamed, “Made you a drink, Captain. Thought you might be thirsty.” Nodding he waved her off, “Thanks for that baby; but I'll drink one later okay?”

Y/N wasn’t given a chance to argue since he immediately went back to his workout routine. And as he did so, her eyes suddenly found themselves focusing on Sy’s bulging and muscular arms. She always loved being wrapped around them and letting her fingertips run over the skin there. Wanting to feel him around here again she whimpered out loud, “Captain.” As he was in the middle of doing a plank, he whipped his head to look over to his girl and raised his brows as sweat dropped on it. Making grabby hands was all that she could do and the former soldier didn’t have enough heart to ignore her any longer so he abandoned his current position and walked towards her, lifting her up, chuckling as her legs went around his waist and her hands wrapped themselves around his neck. “You’re my needy baby girl aren’t you?” Despite his teasing, Y/N could only nod as she nuzzled against his neck, planting kisses on his sweat-soaked skin.

The gymnastics competition just ended and it went well for Lance; since his student won gold and silver. Y/N had been given firm and clear instructions that after the event Lance would pick her up from her seat. And like a good girl she was still sitting down even if the games ended 15 minutes ago. Her head was moving left and right, searching for a trace of her boyfriend. Both her legs were bouncing as she was aching to leave the place since she wanted to spend time with him. Being shoved and pushed around, even when she was seated, was inevitable with the other spectators wishing to vacate the gymnasium. There was also a kid that threw his soda cup in a fit and she was unfortunately splashed with some of the liquid; the brat’s parents didn’t even apologize but instead just dragged their kid away.

As she was wiping some of the sticky liquid off her, a worried voice asked her, “What happened to you, angel?” Her eyes glowed upon seeing his handsome face, her earlier bothered state quickly melting away upon seeing him. “Papa, hi!” She squeaked out in joy and moved to hug him but was halted when the gymnast placed both his hands on her shoulders; he was amused at how quick her mood shifted but was concerned about her so he reiterated his question, “What happened, angel? What are you wiping off?” Y/N pouted as she clawed at his forearms, after a long day of watching and having to be big she just wanted nothing more but to snuggle up to him. And when he didn’t give in to what she wanted, she answered, “Some kid threw his soda, papa. Got me a little wet but it’s fine,” Lance was about to argue that it wasn’t fine but was quickly cut off by his angel’s whiny demands, “Just wanna snuggle you, papa. I missed you.” letting go of her shoulders, he then wrapped his arms around her and she was more than happy about it as she laid her cheek against his shoulder, “Congratulations, papa. I love you.”

“King, stop it tickles,” Y/N giggled as her sides were being intruded by the fingertips of Ransom. “Why not, princess? It’s so fun isn’t it,” He laughed as she squirmed from where she was sitting right across him. After the two had their lunch, they retreated to the couch so he could read to his princess who was feeling little. From reading storybooks, Ransom could sense his baby was getting all needy so he put the book down to turn his attention to his baby. As Y/N was busy laughing and pushing Ransom’s hands away, she failed to warn him how she was so close to puking the meal she just ate. “Stop, stop, king,” Was the only warning she gave before being able to push his hands away and quickly stand up to head towards the bathroom. “Princess?” Ransom followed her and his heart sank as he saw her throwing up on the toilet bowl. Immediately kneeling behind her, he pulled back her hair that framed the front of her face. Rubbing his hand on her back, “Let it out, princess.”

Once she was done, the former playboy took it upon himself to flush the toilet and grab some tissue to wipe her mouth of any more vomit. He grabbed her hand, indicating for her to stand and when she did he guided her to the sink and lifted her so she could sit on the countertop. “I’m gonna brush your teeth now, okay?” She nodded and automatically opened her mouth so when he brought her toothpaste-filled bristles against her teeth. After he had cleaned her teeth and rid of the putrid traces of vomit, Y/N pouted her lip as she looked at Ransom with glossy eyes, “I’m so sorry, I liked our playtime so much and I shouldn’t have moved around too much.” Placing both his hands on her cheeks, he lifted her face so they both looked directly at each other’s eyes, “It’s not your fault okay? I should have not played with you too much, princess.” Nodding, she wrapped her arms around Ransom as best she could, “I wanna cuddle with you king.” Kissing her nose, he lifted her off the counter and onto their bedroom, “We can do that, princess.”

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megthemewlingquim · 4 years

Note

Could you write a thing where Loki makes love to the reader for the first time?

Leannan

Pairing: Husband!Loki x Virgin!Wife!Reader

Warnings: smut (lovemaking, oral (female receiving), loss of virginity, size kink), death by fluff, emotions. Loki speaking Gaelic and Old Norse. Love.

A/N: You get me, anon. You even said, "Make love". Hell to the yeah. Also, this is dramatic as hell.

You had never thought that you would spend the rest of your life with a god, but are you complaining? Absolutely not.

He has been your husband for... nine hours, three minutes, and... and you've lost track of the seconds. You doubt that he has, though. No, Loki can keep track of things like that.

You're standing in his — no, your — room, with your arms around yourself. Standing still, your eyes are fixed on the bed.

"And what has my wife so frightened, hmm?"

A caress against the back of your shoulder. Goosebumps break out at Loki’s touch, but there is no fear. Not here.

"Oh," you say, your voice betraying your emotions, "I'm — I'm not frightened." You smile. "It's just... newlyweds usually... "

"Seal the deal?"

"Ye— yeah. That."

"You don't seem frightened, but you are nervous, as most wives are on their wedding night." He comes into your field of vision, and you see his youthful face, so full of life and love. Love towards you. "A chagair, we don't have to do anything tonight... we don't have to do anything at all, if you don't want to. Now, or ever."

He has slipped in a Gaelic word — now you know this is something sincere. He's only ever spoken in Gaelic to you. That, and Norse. The Gaelic was laced into his wedding vows as well. You have yet to find out what any if it means, but he assured you after the wedding that you would find out in time.

"I do want to," you say. "I don't feel pressured or anything like that. You're my husband, Loki." The unfamiliar sentence makes its way past your lips and it slips out like a snake, curling with the tilt of your head and lifting its own head at your smile.

And with your smile comes his. He takes your hands in his, lifting them to his own lips and kissing your fingers, making his way up your hands, up to your arms. One arm drops to your side as his attention lingers on the other, but it comes back up again to run through Loki's hair, which is still one of the softest things you've ever touched.

"Say it," he mumbles into your skin. "Please, say that you want me."

"I love you."

There's meaning in that exchange, and you both know it. Loki pulls back, slowly, and looks up at you with that look, the one that tells you, I don't deserve you. "My—" he gasps, "my darling, I—"

Then he's up again, kissing you with more ferocity and passion than usual. The wedding kiss. He cups your face in his calloused hands, thumbs swiping over your cheeks.

"I love you so much, leannan," he whispers when he pulls his lips away from yours. His eyes are glistening. "How I ever ended up with you..." He interrupts himself with an overjoyed, choked up laugh.

"You doubt your own worth," you say with a smile. "You won't ever have to do that again. Not with me...not with anyone." You reach up and wipe his eyes.

He says nothing at that, but you know he's feeling so many things: denial, humility, adoration... He doesn't have to say anything. You don't want him to, anyway.

Gently, he moves you toward the bed. The door has been shut, and the lights have been dimmed. You can still see him, and that's all you need for you to feel safe.

He lays you down onto the bed, letting his eyes wander over your form. He notices the small rise and fall of your chest, the smoothness of your legs, the way you’re looking up at him, hope and love now betraying your own thoughts of nervousness and hesitation.

“I am going to ravish you tonight,” he says, and it is good and real and he loves you. Dear God, he loves you he loves you and he's gonna go to his grave with those words on his lips.

"Are you?" you ask and it's amiable and joking and you love him...

"Yes, my sweetness, I am. If you'll let me." Loki starts to caress you now, gentle hands making his way, almost hesitantly, up your legs, up your clothed torso. His right hand finds a breast, and he squeezes it, gently, thumb swiping over the hardened nipple there. And there's a sound he hears — a sigh, but it's different this time. It's not annoyed, it's not tired. It is relaxation, it is courage, it is acceptance.

"Yes," you sigh. He helps you out of your nightgown, slips it above your head. You wear nothing now except a white pair of lace underwear. Innocence, he thinks as he looks down at that part of you, that chaste and secret part of you that even you haven't explored too much.

He leaves it as he rises to meet your lips with his again. He has to be slow, gentle, patient. He must make this good and natural for you.

Your eyes flick all over him. You look at his chest, his muscular arms that are not holding you just yet, his emerald eyes that are darkened with lust... lust for you... and what surprises you the most is actually not that. It is, simply, how tall and big he seems, hanging over your small, delicate form.

"What is it?" Loki asks, and a smile makes its way to his face.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just... ah, how... how little I am compared to you. I feel very small. And... and I like it."

He hums. "You're my little one, aren't you?" He moves his head to your neck and slowly, slowly kisses there, and something about that makes you shiver.

Then, he makes his way down, looking up occasionally to see your reactions. He kisses and caresses your breasts, then your stomach. You gasp when he leaves a little love bite down near your hip.

The moment of truth comes as he looks at your covered sex. He can clearly see that you are ready for him. "May I take these off?" he asks, his voice so quiet you barely hear him. You nod, and he does. He slips your underwear off of you, the sound of the fabric on skin soothing to you in the oddest of ways. Then, he looks down at you.

You don't hide yourself, nor do you make a show of yourself. You are just there, all bare and naked in the dark before him. You don't quite know what to do with your hands, your legs, and you don't know what you should be looking at, either.

He says your name, in a voice that sounds so awed and overwhelmed. He glances briefly up at you. That smile has still not left his face. "My darling, you're stunning. Ethereal. Absolutely exquisite."

He goes lower, and your breath hitches as a green light surrounds him for a moment, ridding him of his clothes. Your hand finds his. "What are you doing?"

"I know you're already ready for me, pet, but... I just want to taste you."

Good God, how can he make such dirty words sound so shy and caring?

Though you have your doubts about whether he'll like it, you let him.

He takes his time, memorizing the taste and feel of every inch of you down there and it's wonderful. His tongue swipes through your lips and up to your clit, spreading warmth wherever it goes. Breathless, you gasp and quiver as he continues.

"My dear," Loki says, lifting his head to give you a way to catch your breath, but also to tease, "you've no idea how incredibly arousing it is to have you like this..." He seems very lost in thought. "Submitting to every ounce of pleasure I give you..."

You moan at his words. "Loki, I need you, please, I — ah—"

He interrupts you by licking up your folds and sucking on your clit again. "I know, sweetness. I know. And you shall have me. I guess this'll have to wait."

He moves, then, kissing his way back up to your face. And as his body lifts, you get a good look at him and your mind blanks.

Oh, he's beautiful...

Mostly pale skin, with some blush on his chest. He isn't overly muscular, but you can tell by his arms and his torso that he does have strength to him.

You look lower. It's the first time you've seen a penis up close like this, and you can somehow say that Loki's is very nice. A little bit on the slimmer side, but it is a little longer. And it is rock hard.

"Lítár þú," Loki mutters dreamily, his eyes scanning over your entire body. "Minn wife."

His voice sounds wonderful in English, and it sounds absolutely ethereal in Gaelic and Norse. It sounds so smooth, so foreign, oddly comforting.

He moves closer, so that your legs are beside his own and he is almost at that spot that you've dreamed about, prayed for, the place a husband and wife are connected, with him on top. "Are you ready?" He smiles, gently, carressing your left thigh.

"Yes," you say simply.

You lift your arms, like a toddler pleading to go up, and Loki falls on top of you, his arms on either side of your shoulders.

Time seems to stop.

You are face to face, breathing in each other's air, and your eyes are locked. All that you know in that moment is that the man you are looking at is your best friend, your lover, your husband. Your brand new husband, your only husband. Your joyful smile tells him everything he needs to know:

God Almighty, I love you.

And he answers with the same smile. "Leannan," he whispers. "That means beloved. "

Your eyes fill with tears.

A warning look comes over his face then, as he looks down at where the both of you are moments away from being united. "I will not deny that this will hurt. But I will do what I can to ease your pain. It will only hurt for a moment."

And, ever so slowly, he pushes in. He does it as if one wrong, badly timed movement will cause you to almost scream with pain — he does it carefully, never taking his eyes off of your face, never taking his arms away from where they keep him above you.

You gasp at the first flicker of pain you feel. Then, your gasps turn to little cries, little whimpers.

Loki shushes you, his tone so quiet you can barely hear him. "I know, I know it hurts. It'll be over soon."

A couple more seconds, and he is fully inside you. Your breath comes in little gasps as the dull pain fades. Loki himself releases one breath, one that is laced with lust. "There you go, it's over. Good job," he says, wiping your eyes with a hand, "Are you alright?"

You nod, weakly, offering him a smaller smile. "Yeah," you whisper, "yeah, I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He looks over you again, just to make sure he hasn't hurt you in any way. Then, his face becomes more determined.

"I am going to make love to you," he says, and your breath hitches. You've always loved that phrase.

What he does next surprises you. He moves, almost laying completely on top of you now, and wraps his arms around your shoulders. His head goes low to kiss at your neck again, and that is when you feel his length moving inside of you.

You lose your breath at the first thrust, suddenly consumed by an urge to wrap your own arms... and legs... around his warm body.

You've never been closer to him in your entire life.

"Yes," Loki murmurs into your ear, "yes, hold on to me." His lips graze your temple. "Let me take care of you now."

And you do. You let him move inside of you, thrusting slowly and gently, giving you pleasures you've never felt before. He moves with a firmness, but a passionate one. Every stroke he makes is long and slow, and he pushes back into you with a determination. The pleasure in your limbs grows with every stroke, from not being there at all to a low sensation in your groin to a fire that's burning you from the inside out.

You grip at him, sobbing with the force of it all. It's too much and it's perfect and it's too much and you're crying, begging for this passion to last. Loki notices, and though his hips don't stop their movements, he moves his torso back up to hover over yours. His own eyes now shine with tears, as well.

He kisses you, sharing that same feeling of seemingly unconditional love coming from the both of you.

This goes on for some time — you can only do so much in a situation like this — but once Loki's hips stutter and his breathing becomes more labored, you know it's almost over. You as well, are inching closer to your own end, and one shaky whimper lets him know.

"Oh —" He realizes what this means, and he sounds delighted. "My dear, I want you to come with me. Share this moment with me, come on."

"Loki, I —" you plead, your entire body warming rapidly. "Oh... oh God —"

"Come on, leannan, come with me."

And you do. You let go of everything in that moment, just reveling in the feeling of his arms around you and the immense pleasure you feel from your first real orgasm. You sob for him again, gripping his shoulders with trembling hands. He, after a few more seconds, comes inside you with a groan, and it takes a minute for the both of you to catch your breath.

Your heartbeats quieting, you practically melt into each other's embrace as Loki falls into bed beside you. You absorb this feeling into your memory, of how the air feels and smells, how the sweat on your skin is oddly comforting, the look in Loki's eyes...

"That..." you pant. "That was amazing..."

And Loki smiles. "I'm glad... I'm glad I could do that, my beautiful, wonderful wife..."

So ends your first night as husband and wife. One, you know, of many.

#loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #loki #loki smut #loki of asgard #loki friggason #loki x you #marvel #loki x reader smut

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r3almellow · 4 years

Note

27 with Victor please 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Thank you anon for the request! Y’all know I got a soft spot for Victor so I hope I did him justice here!

Fun Fact: This is in the same continuity as my fic Coming Home To You! Give it a read if you want!

Enjoy and apologies on mistakes!

50 Types of Kisses Prompts

27. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

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You leaned against the door frame leading into the study, watching your husband stare blankly at his computer screen.

Victor was doing it again. Throwing himself into his work to distract himself from whatever it was that plagued his mind. You didn’t like seeing him so lost in thought only returning to the world around him when it came to your well being.

“You’ve been staring at the computer screen for twenty minutes.”

For the first time in what felt like a long time, Victor blinked and looked up from his work.

“Have I?” His voice was low and slightly gruff. The poor thing sounded tired.

A weary smile etched onto his face as Victor reached for you, beckoning you to come to his side. You accepted his hand and willingly let him gently pull you into his lap. You sat comfortably in his embrace, resting a cheek against the side of his head. Victor leaned into you content with the way your hands caressed his hair. There was a comfortable silence between you that you almost didn’t want to interrupt. Almost.

“Tomorrows the day.” You broke the silence with a whisper.

What day was that? It was the day you would find out the gender of the little bundle of joy soon to be a part of your family. Initially, you wanted it to be a surprise which Victor scoffed at, stating you were “too impatient for your own good.” You wanted to prove him wrong but as the weeks turned into months, you grew more curious about the little bean growing inside you.

Victor was just as curious as you were despite trying to hide it. Being a father was a pretty big deal and while Victor was a pro at keeping his cool, you knew he was a raging ball of nerves. He might be the ruthless CEO of LFG who was feared by many, but at home you got to know Victor in ways many couldn’t even fathom.

Victor only hummed as a response more than relaxed in the position you two were in. You felt his hand delicately caress the growing bump that was your stomach through your pink nightgown.

Another minute or two of silence passed by before Victor spoke.

“Didn’t we agree on you going to bed at a specific time?” His tone was stern yet soft as he continued his gentle strokes along your stomach. He was getting ready to scold you for going against your agreement, but that was nothing a little kiss couldn’t handle. Kisses normally got you out of trouble, but Victor became a little more strict when it came to your health once he found out you were pregnant.

Giving him a quick kiss, your lips formed into a small pout. A pout Victor found absolutely adorable.

“How can I possibly sleep when the love of my life is being held against his will by his own company?” There was a small laugh that erupted from Victor causing you to giggle as well.

You kissed him again, this time your lips lingering longer than the first time. You loved how well your lips fitted against his. Like a missing puzzle piece that completed a beautiful work of art.

Victor pulled away just enough to look at you, his beautiful wife. Was it possible for you to look more radiant than you normally did? Did being pregnant add such a special glow to his beloved or did it take this long for him to notice you like this?

There was a feeling of warmth that swelled within his chest as he looked at you. You were a remarkable woman. Headstrong, persistent, kind... And now you were carrying within you something that the both of you created. Now that he thought about it, remarkable didn’t seem to do you justice.

Cupping your cheek with a hand Victor smiled softly before pulling you in for a loving kiss. His initial plan was for the kiss to be passionate and sweet. It was his way of showing how much you loved you. However, that all went out the window when he heard your soft moans. Hearing you like that caused a stir within him.

It was no surprise that your sex drive has risen substantially since the start of your pregnancy, not that he was complaining.

In the beginning, it took a lot of convincing from you and the doctors in order for him to entertain having sex with you during your pregnancy. Victor wanted to make sure the baby wasn’t harmed in anyway. You two were his whole world and he was going to make sure his family was safe in every way possible, even if that meant giving up sex. For nine months. Nine long months. It was safe to say he was more than happy to learn that being intimate during your pregnancy was normal and it did a great job bringing the two of you closer together.

Now, normally Victor would be ready to take you, but something felt off. You were never this straightforward unless...

“You.” Kisses. “Want.” Kisses. “Pudding.” Kisses. “Don’t you?” He questioned through your barrage of kisses.

Victor felt your triumphant smile against his lips as you kissed him one more time. Pulling yourself out of the kiss your smile grew wider. You had a horrible habit of buttering him up when you wanted something and if that didn’t work you resorted to using other methods to get what you wanted.

Carefully hopping off his lap you happily kissed his cheek, not even waiting for his response.

“With lots of maple syrup and graham cracker crumbs, please and thank you!”

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Hope you enjoyed the read!

#mlqc #mlqc victor #r3al kisses prompts

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flowerandblood · 8 months

Text

The Impossible Choice (52)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, mention of rape, incest ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Helaena had always known that she was a little different from everyone else. It seemed to her as if she saw the world through a fog, unclear, her dreams sometimes overlapping with reality.

She saw things in her sleep, in the water and in the fire, felt them subconsciously under her skin. She felt when something was approaching, when destiny was coming. She felt when Jace and Luke went to take her brother's eye away and she knew there was nothing that could be done about it.

That this was the price for him taming Vhagar.

She had always liked Jace; he was kind and polite towards her, sometimes they would talk to each other over dinner and fly through the skies together. She thought she could have a husband like that in the future, it didn't bother her that he was a child from an illegitimate bed.

Unlike the rest of her family, it didn't matter to her.

Her mother and grandfather, however, decided otherwise.

She was to marry her elder brother.

Aegon always needed a lot of attention and cried cruelly when their mother left him with their nanny. He always wanted to be with her, wanted her to be there for him, but his grandfather had told him from an early age that he cried like a girl.

He would stop crying then and sit in silence, clenching his lips so that he was almost blue, suffocating whatever wanted to come out of him, trembling all over.

She would come up to him then and embrace him. She sat beside him, only quiet, high pitched, mournful squeaks coming out of his throat.

She pitied him.

He suffered from the absence of their father and mother the most of them all. He could not cope with the fact that he could never be weak, his every effort ending in failure, as if he was doomed to it.

He couldn't understand her. He didn't know why she was fascinated by insects and he didn't want to know, he never asked her. He quickly became interested in women, their attention, their touch and tenderness replacing his closeness to his own mother, his need to be loved by someone at least for a moment.

Although she wanted to be able to give him this, his contained, wild nature did not allow them to get close to each other. During their wedding night, he cried, completely drunk, saying he couldn't do it. She stood before him in her white nightgown, resigned and sad, knowing that nothing she said or did would change the fact that he was a broken man.

He didn't want her love, he wanted her to be someone completely different. For her to look different.

But she was herself and there was nothing she could do about it.

When he finally got the courage, when she felt him inside her the discomfort and pain were indescribable. He tried to prepare her for it, but she was too tense and frightened.

She began to cry along with him and he apologised to her quietly. They had done their duty, but they were unable to even look at each other. They knew that what had happened between them was wrong, cruel, inappropriate.

Yet it was exactly what was expected of them.

The heirs to the throne.

They both breathed a sigh of relief when it was revealed that she was pregnant. He stopped visiting her chamber then, indulging in his beloved drunkenness and women, any who were willing to warm his bed. She knew there was no point in discussing it with him.

It wouldn't have changed anything anyway.

They rejoiced together for the first time when he took their children in his arms. He was visibly proud, pleased because she had given birth to two children, not one, on top of which one of them was a son. He considered it half his success.

He then asked how she was feeling and whether she had handled the birth well. However, he then disappeared from her life again until Borros Baratheon's youngest daughter arrived in the Red Keep.

She and Aemond formed a wordless, close bond and she felt subconsciously why he had chosen her. Despite her younger brother's brutality and dark nature, he craved tenderness and closeness while needing someone with a strong character beside him.

She was pleased when the smiling, joyful girl began to visit her, their pleasant, long conversations making her repetitive, grey days more enjoyable.

For the first time she had someone to confide in. She knew that she was not the type of person prone to gossip, and she herself, having already married her brother, would sometimes tell her what she was facing.

When she and Aemond did not speak to each other she would support her in her decision to let him choose for himself to approach her again.

Nothing good ever came out of forcing her younger brother to do anything.

However, she noticed something in Aegon that began to worry her. He would appear in places where they walked, chatting up Lady Baratheon at dinner. She feared that her husband would do something to her, that he would hurt her like he did to their servants.

In the end, however, he did not hurt her brother's wife, but her.

She tried not to cry or scream, pressing her face against the pillow as he moved inside her so violently and quickly that her body trembled in convulsions, her hands clenched on the bedding.

She burst out sobbing when he finished, when he started apologising again, when he hugged her. She felt empty, washed of emotion, unworthy of anyone's love or affect. She didn't need or want anything, she just wanted peace and quiet.

And suddenly, after she had exploded, after she had confronted him after his coronation, Aegon snapped. He hugged her for the first time in his life, his words sincere and from the bottom of his heart.

He promised not to hurt her again.

She did not believe him; however, he had indeed stopped visiting her at night. Instead, he started visiting her during the day.

At first, he would simply come to see their children, and she would sit and embroider during this time, watching them from the sidelines. Despite his nature, Aegon tried to be a good father, giving their children more attention than Viserys gave them.

He surprised her one day when, after Aemond had left the Red Keep and set off for Harrenhal, followed by his wife, he asked if they would have supper together.

She knew what he would ask her.

"Did you help her?" He asked quietly, taking a sip of wine, putting a bit of cooked porridge on his plate from the platter beside him. Helaena looked up at him.

"Yes."

She wondered what he would do with this information. He, however, only nodded and changed the subject, asking her about a gift for their Mother for her Name Day.

They ate with each other more and more, and his persona slowly stopped frightening her. He did not touch her and kept his distance, still feeling remorse and shame for what he had done to her.

It made her feel less alone.

However, it was after his return from the Battle of the Eyrie that he broke his word. He came to her dressed in his chemise and trousers, waking her in the middle of the night. She felt her body tense up all over, terrified of what she expected him to do.

"Can I sleep next to you tonight?" He asked quietly, and she pressed her lips together at his words. She knew what was occupying his thoughts.

Daeron.

She moved slightly away, making room for him, and he came up slowly, laying down beside her, facing her. They stared at each other for a moment, his eyes puffy, his lips parted in an uneven breath. He began to cry loudly, mournfully, clenching his eyelids as if trying to hold it back like when he was a child. Her hand involuntarily rose, stroked his cheek.

"Cry." She said quietly, and then a wave of tears and moans left his throat as if he needed to hear it, to be able to finally release all the grief he had held inside him for years.

He pressed his face to her chest seeking help, comfort, and she did not push him away. She embraced him, stroking his hair, weeping with him over the fate of their beloved little brother.

When she woke the next day she felt his body next to hers, his arm hugging her waist, his nose in her hair. She could feel his breath on her neck, but it was not unpleasant. He didn't smell of wine, his embrace wasn't painful or ambiguous. She thought that if he wanted to sleep in her chamber more often, she would let him.

At Daeron's funeral, when her brother-husband broke down once more, she grasped his cheek in her palm and directed his face at her.

"Our brother is no longer suffering. Don't let his body rot." She whispered in pain and he pressed his lips together. He nodded and looked again at the pyre before them.

She watched as her youngest brother's body disappeared into the flames and closed her eyes.

She was surprised to feel a sting in her heart when Floris Baratheon appeared before her husband. That she felt pain watching her brother-husband devour her with his eyes.

She felt pain at the thought that she had hoped something would change between them.

When he came to her after a few days to tell her that he wanted to take a second wife she looked at him for a long moment with her lips parted.

It broke her heart.

Aegon knelt before her, taking her hands in his own, looking at her pleadingly.

"Just say one word and I won't do it. I promised you I would not hurt you again. However, I feel lonely, sister. I would so much like to finally experience happiness."

She agreed.

She wanted him to be happy.

She had always wanted that.

But what Aemond had said to her as he held her in his arms had planted a seed of uncertainty in her heart, had lowered the veil that showed her the future that awaited her and her children. She thought she had to do something. It wasn't about forgiving or forgetting.

It was about her and her children.

About their safety.

She wanted to do something for herself at last.

In the evening she asked her maid to prepare her bath. She lay in a tub filled with water mixed with fragrant oils, then combed her long white hair and dressed in the most beautiful, most ornate nightgown she had. She knew she had to act quickly and instructed her maid to tell her husband that she wanted to visit him in his chamber.

After a few minutes, her maid returned and said that the king would receive her.

Walking down the corridor she passed Floris Baratheon, whom Aegon had apparently asked out so that she could speak to her. She felt a strange sense of satisfaction at that thought and smiled sleepily.

As she stepped inside Aegon rose from his seat, looking at her frightened and confused. He walked over to her and touched her shoulder. She did not push him away.

"Is something wrong? Something with our children?" He asked and she did not answer him. She stared at him, having trouble getting what she wanted to say out of her throat.

"This is our last night." She whispered and he furrowed his brow, not understanding what she was talking about.

"This is the last night you can have me as your wife. In which you can change what I have experienced. Can it be enjoyable for me?" She asked, her voice trembling at the last words, tears starting to flow from her eyes.

She didn't know why, but she longed for him to touch her, for him not to be violent, to tell her that she too was beautiful, that she too could be loved and desired. She saw his lip tremble, he swallowed difficulty, shaking his head.

"I…sister, what are you talking about?" He asked, his hand touching her cheek uncertainly as if to check for a fever.

"Do it properly for once. For at least one night pretend you ever loved me." She whispered in a breaking voice, and he wept along with her, as if her words were driving straight into his heart. He caught her cheeks in his hands, stepping closer to her.

"I love you. After all, you know I love you."

She kissed him.

For the first time of her own free will, for the first time seeking something for herself, for her body, for her pleasure. She didn't want to think about who he was or what he had done, to think about how much he had hurt her over the years.

For one night she wanted to forget, to imagine that they were happy, that he wanted her. She drew in a loud breath as his hand tightened in her hair and pulled her to him so that she bumped against his body, her fingers tightening on his back.

She didn't move away when she felt his tongue between her lips, she didn't move away when she felt his large hand clamp down on her buttock, when she felt his manhood pulsing hard in his trousers.

"Do you want this? Do you really want this?" He exhaled between the chaos of their teeth, lips and tongues, their fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of their clothes.

"Yes."

Never before had he been so tender to her, so slow and steady. His lips roamed her body, placing soft, wet kisses on her skin.

He asked her if she wanted this before he pressed his lips around her nipple and began to suck on it, asked her if she wanted this when his hand slid between her thighs, asked her if she wanted this before he sat between her legs and pressed his tongue into her hot interior.

She had never felt anything like this before, it felt like her whole body was trembling from the spasms and moans that were erupting from her throat, she didn't know that it could have felt like this, that the whole terrifying act for her could have been so wonderfully peaceful and safe.

When he entered her, for the first time doing so while looking at her face, she was surprised to find that she felt no discomfort. He slid in and out of her with ease, she could hear the quiet, sticky click of her juices each time his thighs slapped against her buttocks.

He leaned over her once in a while to kiss her, and she reciprocated the gesture, clasping her hands in his hair. She could see him looking at her with uncertainty, not believing this was really happening, his body wet and sweaty just like hers.

"Tell me if you want me to stop." He exhaled as his thrusts became more brutal, his hand finding a spot between her thighs from where her whole body trembled in pleasure, she felt the tension in her body reach its zenith.

"Do not stop." She whispered, clenching her eyes, panting along with him, and he groaned loudly at her words, speeding up, her hips coming up to meet him, the bed beneath them creaking loudly.

"Will you come tomorrow too? Will you visit me in my bed?" He exhaled as he looked at her, and she felt something happen, her whole body shuddered, heat and pleasure like she had never known before spilling over her body. Aegon groaned and cursed loudly as he felt her begin to clench around his length, unable to stop fucking her, seeking his own fulfilment.

"− yes − yes −" She whispered softly. He gasped loudly and embraced her, she felt him come inside her, his semen spilling over her insides.

He collapsed on top of her and they both lay like that, panting and trembling. She stared at the baldachin above her with her lips slightly parted, unable to calm herself, her body still going through shivers of pleasure. She heard him swallow loudly, his nose pressed against her cheek.

"Stay with me."

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @ahristata @menaosama @queenofshinigamis @dark-night-sky-99

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Text

Punishment (The Great blurb)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: swearing, brief mentions of sex and nudity, almost death, drowning (but saved)

From Anon request: Hi, first of all I'd like to say I absolutely love your writing. Second of all could I request a fic for Grigor Dymov? I had this idea based on the scene where Catherine is in the chest and Peter throws it into the lake. Instead of Catherine it could be the reader and Grigor is really concerned and orders for the chest to be removed from the water and is then all cute and caring for the reader. I know its pretty lame...I've got kinda bad writers block at the moment.

A/N: Sure thing! Good luck with the writers block- and thank you! This was lovely to write!

You woke up into darkness. No morning light. No familiar bedroom. Only darkness.

How on earth did you get here? What were you doing here?

It was rocky. Panic shook you awake as you blinked your eyes open. Your fingers began to reach out to feel your surroundings. Everything felt wooden. It was a rectangular shape. There was a bit of grey light peeking in the form of a thin line just over your head.

How did I get there? Did someone do something to me?

You were in a chest large enough to stuff you inside, you figured. Feeling your own body, you were still in your night clothes. Blinking and pinching yourself, you felt the pain. There was even the cold air from outside seeping in. This wasn’t a dream.

It shook and you felt it being lifted with the huffs of masculine breaths and voices just outside. You took your fists and beat against the wood.

“Who’s there! Is someone there?” Please let me out!” you cried.

There was no response.

“I’m inside! There’s someone in the chest!” you yelled.

When you pushed up against the lid, you realized it was locked tight. From the inside there was no way of unlocking it from your frantic inspection and what little you could see. Then you heard the rush and bauble of water right outside. And it came pouring through the cracks. First as a puddle. Then more. And more. And more.

Girgor stood outside next to Peter watching the servants take the chest into the river. It was a chilly morning. The sky was overcast, and the trees were either bare or brown. His fur hat itched on top of his head. Guards in dark coats and beards stood all around them watching apathetically. Glancing at Peter, the Emperor’s eyes were dark, and his hands folded. His gaze downward. His lips curled into a smirk. But Grigor felt his stomach turn sour at the sight of the servants lowering the chest into the lake. He heard your voice clearly and clenched his fists.

Already it was halfway down. Y/N’s pleas turned into frightened screams.

“HELP! HELP! SOMEONE HELP PLEASE!”

Her cries rung haunted into his eardrums as if she were being set alight with fire rather than being buried in water.

“SOMEONE! ANYONE!” followed by a scream that made him feel cold despite his clothes.

His hands fidgeting, he sucked in a quick breath through his nose. He turned to Peter.

“Don’t you think she’s learned her lesson?” he suggested.

Peter snarled.

“The bitch fucking called me a piece of shit unfit to rule. She needs to be taught a lesson. No one gets away with calling me names.”

“Well, she didn’t say a ‘piece of shit.’ If I remember the report correctly,” Grigor said.

“She still said I was a bad Emperor!”

There was another scream, the chest was getting lower.

“But…she is being punished and doesn’t know why. I don’t think anyone told her that was why this was happening…they stole her when she was just sleeping! And Peter-wouldn’t you rather be known for your mercy to those who have the little slip up?”

“I’ll be seen as weak! And insulting your sovereign ruler isn’t just a little ‘slip up!’”

“You could…tell her not do it again, she will know why she’s being punished…and you’ll be celebrated. And then she won’t do it again. Peter the Merciful. Peter the Saintly. Peter the Beloved- how does that sound to you? I don’t think Peter-who-drowns-women has the same ring to it!”

He blinked, then stared blankly at the chest.

“If you’re not feeling merciful- let her walk back to the palace in her state. Don’t give her death as quick mercy-but just rather let her suffer humiliation. She could be back in court in half-drowned with everyone knowing what was done. It will stain her life more. That would be even worse than just killing her off- don’t you think?”

There was no response. Peter’s mouth twitched slightly and his eyes looked a little brighter.

There was another scream. The chest was almost lowered completely. If nothing happened, you were doomed.

“I guess…that would be worse…” Peter said.

Running forward, Grigor motioned to the servants in a panic. The Emperor behind him didn’t stop him.

“Stop the chest-bring it up- now! Bring it fucking up! There’s someone in there!” he barked

They glanced at Peter who nodded coldly.

They brought the chest back up out of the lake. The water dripping down created mud beneath their shoes. You could be heard grasping for breath inside.

“Open it,” Grigor ordered.

They pulled open the lock and out dumped leftover water and you.

You coughed out what water you swallowed by accident. Your hair was dripping from your head and your fingers were wrinkled. Although you had landed on your hands and knees, you nearly teared up at the sight or earth and grass. You took in desperate gulps of air, inhaling life until it stung your insides.

You looked up and saw the Emperor, Grigor, and some guards. Looking down, you put your arms over yourself. Your nightgown was drenched, and all these men might be able to have a look of your body now outlined through the soaked, white dress made sheer. Shivering already, the water did nothing to protect you from the icy air.

“Mademoiselle Y/N, do you acknowledge you were wrong?” Emperor Peter scolded.

“About what?” you asked.

“Told you,” Grigor muttered.

“My spies reported to me what you said last night. Are you sorry? Do you take back your words and say I am fit to rule Russia?” Peter asked.

You blinked open, suddenly recalling. You thought no one else could hear it. It was at the crowded party last night and it was to a friend you had in court. Or thought you had.

Grigor walked forward. At first you shifted your weight back, your arms desperately shielding any private bits that could be visible from your soaked, white gown but he put his hands up in peace. He leaned down and took off his fur hat, placing it on your head. Then he removed his fur coat, placing it around your shoulders. It was large enough it covered you entirely.

“Th…thank you…” you sputtered to him.

“Yes, I know I’m merciful and brilliant and have a massive cock and you should be grateful…but are you sorry?” Peter demanded.

Grigor helped you stand up. His eyes at you were wide like a dog begging for scraps of meat.

The new warmth from the fur hat on your head and the protection of his coat gave you strength in your voice.

“Yes….I’m sorry. I take back my words. You are fit to rule,” you said obediently.

“Well, good. And you can walk back to the palace…we have horses waiting for us.”

The fur stayed on you on the walk back. The guards followed Peter like a murder of crows around his horse. Your feet stung from the rocks and pebbles beneath. You had no shoes or stockings. Dirt got all over and there was a slight cut near your toe. There was even a blister growing on your right foot.

Once the large, grey palace was in sight you saw that Peter’s horse and his guards had vanished. But there was one familiar figure, jogging up to you.

“Y/N…are you alright?” Grigor questioned.

“I…I’m…I’m just in shock,” you answered.

“Here-you’ve walked enough!”

“Wha-oh!”

Suddenly he took his arm under you and his other arm went down to your legs. Before you could respond he was carrying you, rushing to the palace and walking inside. Feeling your feet dangling from the other end, you seemed weightlessness. Grigor’s handsome profile was right over your face and your breath stopped at the sight.

He headed up the grand staircase and through a door to the hallway.

A few courtiers seeing you both gasped and murmured. Heads decorated with wigs ran up to look at you. A few servants rushed up.

“Where is her chambers- she needs help” he ordered. “Mademoiselle Y/N almost drowned-we need blankets and warm clothes and hot broth-now!”

There was a scattering of feet. You saw the brown wood and chandeliers over your head, as well as a stag’s head mounted on the wall, antlers twisting to the heavens. Grigor helped you down to a maid who helped you up and walked you to your room.

Two hours later, you sat with a dry nightgown, a thick robe, and a blanket made from a bear’s fur over your lap as you sat in your chair next to a crackling fire. You held a bowl of hot broth and sipped the last bit.

At a knock of the door, you voiced out “you can enter.”

Grigor walked in.

“I…I wanted to see how you were doing…” he commented.

You stood up, setting the bowl and blanket aside.

“I’m better…and alive thanks to you…though I still have your hat and coat.”

Gesturing to the writing desk, Grigor picked up the clothes and kept them in his arms.

“I’m so sorry this happened. Y/N, please be careful…please…” he begged.

You nodded.

“I will be” you promised, “I heard you order the chest out of the water. You saved me today. I saw how mad the Emperor was at you, but you did it anyway…for that, I owe you my life.”

“You owe me nothing, Y/N. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Walking up to him, you took his hands. Pulling them to your lips, you kissed the knuckles.

“But…I must say it again…thank you, Grigor.”

He grinned. You felt hotter than all the blankets in the world could make you feel at the sight.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow, Mademoiselle.”

Taglist: @sgt-stardust-killerqueen @queenlover05 @itsametaphorgwil @foxinaforestofstars @iwritefanficnotprophecies @simonedk @panagiasikelia @grigorlee @fueled-by-novocaine @xviiarez @vintage-and-hypnotic @raerae27 @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night

#carrie writes #the great #the great fanfic #the great fanfiction #nicholas hoult #gwilym lee #welsh disney prince #grigor #grigor x you #grigor x reader #grigor dymov #grigor dymov x you #grigor dymov x y/n #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x fem! y/n #grigor dymov x fem! reader

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dearfandomdiary · 4 years

Text

To Build a Home

Zelda Spellman x witch!reader

Word Count: 1364 words

Request: Would you pretty please write a cute and maybe romantic fic, however you wish, where Zelda helps a witch who shows up at their home/ business one evening, needing help? (Kind of reminiscent of when Lilith showed up asking for Mary's help, but preferably without the murder and scissors in the throat. 😂👌)

Author's note: I had a lot of fun writing this. I kept the ending relatively open so i could write a Part 2 if y'all want. 😉 I hope this is what you had envisioned, Anon! <3

You have been running through the woods for hours now, not having the faintest clue where you were or where the exit from this stupid forest was when you saw something that looked like a graveyard.

Why would Greendale have a graveyard in the middle of the woods? , you thought but shook your head slightly, deciding to try it anyway.

Maybe there was someone living nearby or someone was visiting their beloved one this late(or early depending on what time it was you couldn't tell).

You took a deep breath, leaning against a tree and trying to calm yourself when you heard something behind you and ran again, this time with a target. Finding someone on that graveyard ground and if no one was there you would continue running. You wanted to get out of this forest. Away from whatever took you there.

While running, you tried to cast a spell and every time you did, it backfired. Two or three times, the backfire was so extreme that you crashed against trees and on the floor but you didn't feel pain. Mostly adrenaline but you also weren't able to feel your limbs in general. Yet you continued to run.

When you arrived at the glade, you saw not only a graveyard but also a big house and cars.

You breathed hard and grasped the fence of the graveyard tightly while trying to fix your breathing. The light on the ground floor was on and smoke was coming out of the chimney. Whoever lived there, was awake.

You couldn't believe your luck. After looking over your shoulder, you ran towards the house, walked up the stairs and, after a few seconds of overthinking, knocked on the door. While you were standing there, waiting for someone to open, you realized how cold you felt and that you were shivering. You slang your arms around your upper body, trying to feel at least a little bit warm.

After what felt like hours, you saw someone approaching the door and opening it. "What is it?" A woman with red hair and a blue nightgown, but still her makeup on, asked.

Your heart was still beating fast from the run so you stammered while talking. "I-I'm (Y/N) and I am sorry for-for disturbing you this late but I-I was running through the woods and I just - I didn't know where to go. It's the-the only house for miles."

The mysterious woman raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Alright. Get inside. You must be freezing." she told you and stepped aside to let you in, which you couldn't refuse so you carefully stepped into her house. "Do you want anything?" she asked and after debating, you nodded slightly. She smiled just a little bit.

"If I were my sister, I would make you a tea with all kinds of herbs but thankfully I am not, so you can choose. We have tea, coffee, water."

You didn't need to think twice. "tea, please. Black if possible." Your voice was barely a whisper and you wondered how the woman was able to understand you, but she did.

"Okay. You can sit down in the living room." she guided you into the living room and you noticed how warm you got, the moment she touched your lower back.

After you sat down, she went into the kitchen and made you tea. You looked down at yourself; your pants were ripped and dirty and your jacket was ripped as well where you had crashed against trees. Quickly you looked up again and brushed tears that were forming in your eyes almost aggressively away.

Your eyes were focusing on nothing specific but over time, you started warming up again and you realized how much your limbs hurt. A whimper escaped your mouth when you tried to sit up and the second the tone left your mouth, the woman stood in the door with a cup of tea in her hand.

"I got your tea..are you okay? Are you hurt?" she asked and you wanted to shake your head but not lie, so you nodded a bit. She sat down in front of you, handing over the cup. "My name is Zelda by the way." She watched you closely while you drank. A feeling of warmth and something else surged through your body. It slowly started to calm you down. "Can you tell me exactly what happened? Why were you outside this late?" Zelda asked and crossed her legs.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat down and pushed your hair out of your face, looking around and out of the window with panic in your eyes as you heard a sound from outside. ``It‘s very complicated. And I don‘t - I don‘t want to talk about it just yet.´´ You drank a bit more from the tea and stared into the cup.

Zelda furrowed her eyebrows and took a drag from her cigarette. ``You are in my house, at 3 am, looking like you were running away from something. It’s for your safety.´´ she explained calmly and watched you, shakingly drink the tea. ``I could easily send you out again and go to bed.´´ she added, hoping it would make you open up.

As she said that she would send you out again your eyes widened in fear. ``N-No, please. I- ok I‘ll talk.´´ you sighed and stared at your cup, tightly gripping the handle. ``Something is chasing me. I-I don‘t know what it is though. It‘s dark, so very dark.“ your voice drifted off at the end and you stared at your cup with fear and jumped when you heard something outside.

Zelda frowned and felt the worry growing inside her. "Don't worry. You are safe here. Nothing is getting inside these walls.” Zelda sat her cigarette holder down and took a seat next to you. “Can you describe the feeling for me? I know it's a lot but think as hard as you can.” She laid her arm behind you on the couch and you almost instinctively leaned back, the warmth that the redhead was radiating calming you.

You took a deep breath and thought back. You could remember the coldness creeping through your bones and the darkness filling your mind. You shuddered and swallowed hard. “I was at home when I first felt it. It was almost like someone…something daunting me. I-” you stopped because you realized that you didn't know how much you could tell. You let your mind and magic drift slightly, trying to detect anything out of the ordinary when you were hit with another wave of magic. You turned to Zelda who looked at you expectantly and worried so you just bowed your head and took another breath. “I teleported away but it must have...it must have grabbed on me because I landed in the middle of the woods. And then I just kept running until I arrived here. I tried to fire spells but they...they always backfired.” your voice started to shake at the end and you curled your hands tighter around the now empty mug.

While you were talking, Zelda also realized that you were a witch and it started to make sense. The small sparks whenever she had touched you accidentally. “Ok. That’s good. I can work with that.” she smiled encouragingly and gently stroked over your upper back. “Let's get you cleaned up and then I’ll show you where you can sleep. You can stay as long as you need to, I will make sure you are safe.”

You nodded with a slight smile. “O-Okay.” you both stood up and together went upstairs. “Zelda? Thank you. For letting me in and...and protecting me even though you don't know me.” you said as you reached the top of the stairs.

Zelda smiled at you. “That's quite alright. If a witch needs help, we offer that help. And I am pretty sure you don't want to harm us.” she said as she opened the door to the guest room.

#zelda spellman imagine #caos imagine #chilling adventures of sabrina #miranda otto #zelda spellman #wlw imagine

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Blue Eyes Part 13

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 13: Ella makes a deal with the Inspector. Alfie tries to distance them from the real world, or at least just London.

//I’m so sorry I lied to you, Anon. But my wifi improved drastically since this morning. Here ya go :* Also, my D key popped off and I haven’t found it. So if I’m missing a d here or there, that’s why. It’s impossible to type it without the key cover. Other than that, enjoy!

Some time passed but Ollie reported that none of the men had come across Inspector Blackwell in their territory. So Alfie called off the search and brought Ella back home. She was a little out of sorts. Although she’d held her ground against the man, she felt unnerved after the fact. Not only did she now know her family was freed, but she was terrified that whatever Tommy’s plan was it was beginning soon.

The confrontation also interrupted Ella’s little bubble she had created with Alfie. It was all she could do to try and keep a hold of that peace.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Want to take a bath? Have a cuppa?” Alfie suggested as they entered the flat together. He helped her out of her jacket, gently rubbing her shoulder.

“I don’t know.” Ella wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying. She knelt down to give Cyril a pat.

Alfie frowned with worry and locked the door behind him. He checked out the small window beside the door. Two men stood across the street, watching the house under Alfie’s orders. It might’ve been excessive, but Alfie wasn’t taking any chances with a man of the law. “C’mon, love.” He offered a hand out to her and kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you head upstairs, I’ll make you tea.”

She nodded absent-mindedly and went up to the bedroom. Her thoughts were consuming too much of her mind to think straight. Almost in a haze, she slipped into a nightgown and went to sit on the bed. Slowly, she began to pluck out the pins in her hair. Her curls were starting to graze past her shoulders. Every time she realized how long it had grown, her heart ached for her sister and aunt. That inevitably led to missing her brothers and cousin. And finally, her thoughts would settle on Tommy. Anger and hurt enveloping her until she was close to tears.

The hairbrush combed through her hair mindlessly, her eyes fixed on the open bedroom door. She didn’t stop brushing until Alfie came upstairs with tea in hand. His entrance snapped her out of the daze and she set the comb aside.

“What’re you thinking ‘bout, love?” He asked gently and placed the teacup on the nightstand nearest to her. He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his.

“My family.” She admitted quietly.

“Maybe you should call them? Least your aunt.” Alfie suggested softly and kissed her knuckles. “Or have Ishmael drive you over? I’d go with you but I…” He winced. “Don’t think they’d want to see me.”

Ella closed her eyes when she felt the sting of tears beginning. “That’s just it, isn’t it?” She mumbled. “Things can’t go back to the way they were. Ever. But I’m…I’m starting to become okay with that.” After focusing on her breathing for a moment, she opened her eyes to look at him. “I love you. And if that doesn’t mesh well with my family then that’s that. Won’t change anything.”

In response, he forced a weak smile. He desperately wanted to agree. Fuck her family; they were perfect on their own. Things could keep going as they were for another lifetime. But it wouldn’t be in her best interest. Alfie knew her family would always be in the back of her no mind no matter how many times she denied it. He couldn’t take the place of her entire family.

“Perhaps you should call Polly.” He said again. “Just to make sure she’s okay. I’m sure she’s wondering the same about you.”

Ella sighed and relented. “I’ll ring her tomorrow. Tonight, I don’t want to have to think about anything else. Just want to go to bed.” She frowned and reached for the tea that was still steaming on the nightstand.

“I’ve got a bit more paperwork to do downstairs.” Alfie stood up, shaking out the stiffness in his leg from kneeling.

“No, stay.” She pled quietly. Her blue eyes yearning for him. “Please?”

She made him absolutely weak. Paperwork could wait. “Alright, just let me wash up, just be a mo’.”

Ella smiled victoriously.

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

“Hello?”

Ella was appalled at how quick she was to cry those days. Perhaps she just had too many emotions all building up that they were eager to break out for any reason. The sound of her beloved aunt’s voice was one such reason.

She was sat on the steps in Alfie’s flat one evening. The telephone wire threaded between the banisters so it would reach from the table in the front hall. She spent the day mulling over what Alfie had suggested the night before. Finally, she gathered the courage to dial Polly’s number.

“Pol, it’s Ella.” She choked out the words.

“Ella!” The older woman sounded delighted to hear from her niece. “I’ve been speaking with your father…”

The single sentence was more alarming than anything Ella had expected to hear. She supposed Polly would ask if things were okay or tell her what happened to get her released from prison.

“What do you mean? He’s dead, you know that.” Even if Arthur Senior had faked his death for whatever reason, he wouldn’t go right to Polly. Their relationship had been very strained over how he treated her nieces and nephews.

“Full of regret. They’re always full of regret.” Polly didn’t sound all there. Her voice didn’t carry the same vigor and strength that it normally did. It almost sounded like she was drifting away due to an extreme high. She’d seen it happen many times to different people before.

“Pol.” Ella tried to interrupt the ramblings of a lost woman. “Polly, can you give the phone to Michael? Is he there with you?”

Instead of answering, there was a shuffle of movement and Michael stepped onto the call. “Ella?” He was in disbelief. Tommy had said she’d been released from prison but didn’t mention her again. Michael didn’t know what happened or where she went after she abandoned all her things at Watery Lane. “Where are you? Are you alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine. I’m more concerned about your mother.” She insisted. “What’s she on about hearing my dead father talking to her?”

There was an uncomfortable pause on the other end of the line. “She’s been taking tablets that the doctor gave her for sleep. Now she’s all in sorts, saying she’s communicating with spirits.”

Ella put a hand over her eyes and had to wait until she spoke again. She heard Cyril’s nails clicking on the wood floor, approaching her from the kitchen. Her eyes lifted when she felt his wet nose nudging at her hand. He rested his chin on her knees, his brown eyes on her, and his tail wagging. She smiled weakly and began to stroke his fur. The motion calmed her down enough to reply to Michael. “Well, why don’t you tell her to stop taking them?”

“She won’t let me. Afraid she’s worse when she’s off them. What happened…it really affected her.” His voice wavered. They had all suffered. The event had rocked Michael to the core and all he could do was try to be there for his mother and hold himself together as well. But nearly every night, he woke up in a cold sweat. That stark white room loomed in his mind. The three ropes hanging from the ceiling. The way the noose felt around his neck. It would drive anyone mad.

“Then talk to the doctor to see what else can be done.” She urged. “This isn’t normal.”

“Tommy said I should agree with her. Say the spirits are real.”

A white-hot venom shot through Ella’s veins in a split second. “What?” For a moment she wasn’t sure she’d heard her cousin right. “You mean you’ve spoken to him?” She let out a scoff and stopped petting Cyril for a moment. “Bloody hell are you still working for him?”

Another drawn-out pause lingered between the telephones. It was enough of an answer for Ella but Michael did admit to it. “He needs me right now. Without John, Arthur, and my mum he’s understaffed.” He tried to explain steadily.

“Understaffed. We’re his fucking family, not his soldiers!” She shouted into the receiver. “Michael, that man is the reason your mother is like this. And you’re listening to him? Obeying his orders? Still?!”

Cyril whined and scratched at Ella’s leg as if to try and comfort her. Alfie, who was upstairs, also heard the commotion. He came out of the bedroom and stood at the top of the stairs.

Ella’s back was still to him and didn’t hear his footsteps over her own voice. “That man has destroyed this family and it is never going to be the same again!”

“Ella…”

“No, fuck off!” She shouted and tossed the receiver away from her. The wire caught on the banister and limply hung off the hook. “That fucking disgrace!” She stood and stormed past Cyril. The mastiff looked up at Alfie who was a little dumbfounded.

Hesitantly, he walked downstairs to follow her into the parlor. He wasn’t sure whether he should interrupt or if she wanted to be left alone. “El?”

“What?” She snapped and spun around. Her hands clenched into fists and fire in her ice-cold eyes.

His body subtly retreated, one step out of the parlor and holding up a hand in defense. “Sorry, just wanted to know if you were okay. But you can tell me to fuck off if ya want.”

Ella deflated a little when she realized she was taking her anger out on the wrong person. She slumped onto the sofa and put her face in her hands. “He’s ruined so much but he never faces the consequences.” She whispered.

Alfie walked over to her, assured she wouldn’t lash out at him. Even if she did, he was sure he could handle it. “What happened? What did Polly say?”

“She’s lost her fucking marbles because of him. Can’t handle it anymore and now she’s seeing spirits ‘round the house.” She told him honestly. After furiously scrubbing her hands over her eyes a few times she looked up at him.

By all accounts, Alfie heard that Polly was a very strong woman. It was disheartening to hear that she had been so traumatized. Not that there was anything he could personally do about it. “Well, I…” He leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. “There’s a good doctor I know, right, might be able to help with any sort of…” He was really struggling to find tactful words. “Issues of the brain.”

Ella chewed on her nails, her foot shaking with agitation. “This isn’t a matter of doctors, it’s a matter of making Tommy pay for what he’s done.” Rage clouded her sight and judgment. She stood up suddenly and made a beeline for the door.

Alfie grabbed her before she could pass by him. “Oi, where you going at this hour?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She shook him off and reached for her coat.

“Fucking matters to me, don’t it?”

“Fine.” She huffed while hastily stuffing her arms into the sleeves. “If that inspector wants to harass us then he ought to harass the right fucking person. I’m going to go find him and tell him everything Tommy’s done. Anything that’ll get him the same sentence he gave my family.”

“No, no.” Alfie stepped between her and the front door. “Be having none of that. Why don’t you go sit down, take a few breaths?” Despite his attempt to be caring, his tone came off as demanding.

“You telling me what to do?” Ella challenged and stepped up to him. “You know as well as I do that my brother needs to be accountable for his actions. He leaves a fucking mess in his wake no matter where he goes. His wife is dead ‘cause of him. His son will be motherless. My aunt’s gone off the deep end. For God’s sake, we’ve all gone off the deep end at this point!” She shouted.

“If you go off spouting what he’s done then you’re just gonna get wrapped up in it, ain’t ya?” Alfie spoke over her, trying to grab her attention. Try to make her think rationally even in the state she was in. “They could damn well lock you and your family up again because everything Tommy does, he’s involved you lot. You’re his collateral damage, yeah? Because if he’s going down, so is everyone else around him. That’s just how he works, innit?”

Her lip trembled and she hit her fists against his chest. It didn’t hurt much as her entire body had gone weak with grief. She let out a sob and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “We’ll all be dead ‘fore December.” She cried. “Something’s coming, I just know it is.”

“Hush now, love.” He gently removed her coat and wrapped his arms around her. “Polly’ll be alright. Just need to keep on.”

She whimpered a reply but the words were lost into his shoulder. Her fingers wrapped around his shirt and held him close.

“Just promise me you’ll stay away from that inspector.” Alfie kept his voice soft but he hoped she could tell he was being serious. Any information about Tommy could have a lot of people locked up, himself probably included. And he couldn’t free Ella again if he was imprisoned too.

Still, he agreed with her. Tommy certainly was up to something and it was about time Alfie figured it out. He didn’t want to be blindsided by anything. If it was something he could handle, then he wanted to be prepared. If it weren’t, then he would plan for that as well. Probably fuck off to Margate with Ella and live the rest of their lives in peace. If that was even possible.

Alfie kissed her hair. “Want to get away for the weekend?” He asked softly. “Leave London?”

“I have to work.” She mumbled into his shirt.

“Yeah, so do I but I don’t fucking care now do I?” He smiled and tucked a curl behind her ear. “C’mon love, I know somewhere nice. Not too far.” He coaxed.

Ella sniffled and after a thoughtful moment, she nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. You’ll love it, I promise.”

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

The Friday before they were due to leave for Margate, Ella walked to work as usual. Alfie tried again to get her to take the car. Would even let her drive it as long as she wasn’t walking. Now that he knew there was a detective looking to extract information from her, he was even more worried about her well-being. But she won the battle a second time.

“Strong women don’t adjust their routine even if there’s a pesky fly trying to disrupt it.”

At the risk of calling her weak, which Alfie was more than positive wasn’t true, he relented. Simply watched as she loaded her small handgun and slipped it into the holster by her side, and tucked the blade into the holster on her thigh. She did it with such daintiness and disregard. Truly the air of a woman who had been raised around weapons her entire life.

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

However, that Friday morning, it appeared that Alfie’s worries were warranted. Out of the corner of her eye, halfway to the law firm, she spotted the flash of someone familiar. The inspector doing his best to blend in with the rest of the early morning crowd shuffling along to work. Ella’s pace didn’t stutter, she didn’t speed up, and she didn’t try to shake him off. She simply changed direction. A man collecting donations by the steps of the church smiled and tipped his hat towards her. She smiled back and headed into the church as if it were her destination the entire time.

The chapel was empty and nearly silent. Void of any hymns or organ music. Ella’s heels echoed through the lofty vaulted ceiling. Steadily, she made her way halfway down the nave, stopping at a row. With a deep breath, her eyes lifted to the vacant altar. A single candle burning. She knelt and made the sign of the cross just as Polly had taught her ages ago. Another set of footsteps made their way into the church by the time she was sat.

Calmly, Ella placed her hands in her lap and tried to adjust to the wooden pew. She’d nearly forgotten how hellishly uncomfortable they were. Her eyes remained ahead as the footsteps stopped and shuffled into the row behind her. The wood creaked as someone sat.

“I didn’t know you were religious, Miss Shelby.” Inspector Blackwell removed his hat, placing it on the pew beside him.

She didn’t glance back at him. He’d be able to hear her just fine without looking at his smug face. “I’m not. I’ve lost my faith a long time ago. As has the rest of my family.”

“And yet you’ve led me to a church.”

“A sanctuary. A good detective wouldn’t harm someone in the lord’s house, now would he?”

There was a low chuckle from behind her. “Your family likes to play games, isn’t that right, Miss Shelby?” The wood whined as he leaned forward. “You think the rules don’t apply to you, but you use them when it suits you best.”

“Were you in France, Inspector?”

A moment of silence indicated his confusion. “Yes.” He answered, unsure of where the young woman was leading him. Detectives of Scotland Yard were usually commanders of the conversation, but not many of them had the pleasure of speaking to a Shelby.

“My brothers were commanders of the Small Heath Rifles.” Ella sat straight, her eyes barely moving from the elaborate altar. The gilded candelabras and large crucifix hanging high above so that all in the church could see. “They left for France when I was thirteen. Claykickers. The absolute worst fate. But shouldn’t we all be used to it by now? Forced into the ground, the walls shaking, threatening to cave in and bury us all. I trust you know a lot about our family by now Inspector, but you’ll never know what it’s like. Born into the lives we were. And then my brothers, to be sent to France only to be placed underground again. No one above them giving a flying fuck whether they made it out of that tunnel or not. My aunt and I received a letter saying their unit had been buried alive.” Ella gritted her teeth. “They returned to us. But they were dead. Dead men. That’s why they’re not afraid of you, Inspector, because they’ve met Death and made acquaintance with him.”

“That’s all well and good, Miss Shelby, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re criminals. And I’ll be happy to put them back underground. Underneath the prison to rot. You can join them if you’d like.”

A hint of a smirk formed on Ella’s face. “The other day, I was about to give my brother up to you. Tell you everything you’d need to lock him up. Bury him under the prison. Then I remembered I fucking hate cops, much more than I’ll ever hate my brother. I may be angry with Tommy, but I’ll never betray my family the way he did.” She stood and turned to finally look at Blackwell. “You’ve made a grave mistake, Inspector.” She informed him smugly. “You’ve upset my dear Alfie and now you’ve received attention from the Shelby Company. I wonder what it’s like to have two of the most dangerous men after you.” She shrugged and went to exit the pew. Before walking out of the church, she paused. “When one of us dies, we burn them. We’d never bury them again. But rest assured Inspector, we will bury you so that you might know what it fucking feels like.” She smiled. “Good day.”

Blackwell stood up before she could walk off. “I think you’ll be interested to know about a warrant I’ve issued.

“I’ve been to prison before, Inspector, I think I could handle it again.” Ella attempted to sound reassured even if she spent less than twenty-four hours in a cell.

“It’s not for you.” Satisfied that he was controlling the conversation again, the inspector smiled and took a step towards her. “It’s for Alfie Solomons.”

Her jaw tightened and stinging pain of fear stabbed her in the side. “For what? You have no evidence against him for anything.” She forced the words through her teeth.

“I’ll charge him with whatever I damn well please.” He grinned and picked up his derby hat off the pew seat. “Extortion, assault, burglary, murder. Whatever will have him sent faster to the gallows.”

“I don’t believe you.” She whispered and did her best to hold her ground. The man was doing nothing more than trying to intimidate her. Trying to scare her into spilling information about her family.

“Then you can believe it while I lead him away in handcuffs.” He shrugged and adjusted the collar of his coat. “But it’ll be too late then.”

Ella’s eyes flicked towards the doors of the church. She had to remember all the things her brothers taught her. Every trick to make herself appear tougher and colder even if she was shaking with anger inside. Like she was reining back a wild stallion, she rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. Stay in control. “What would make you rip up the warrant?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions, Miss Shelby.” He chuckled and tipped his hat back on his head. “Your brothers, aunt, and cousin were all released because of information Thomas Shelby had. Now he walks around with an OBE. As far as I’m concerned, your brother ought to be locked up. Instead, he’s wandering around doing the same things he’s done before.”

“I told you,” Her voice was like daggers, anger seeping out beyond her control. “I don’t know what he did. I have no contact with him anymore.”

“Then you best give him a ring.”

The thought of calling Tommy was enough to make Ella see red. But the threat of Alfie’s arrest was enough to make her feel nauseous. “He wouldn’t tell me anyway.”

Blackwell clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Well, that’s a shame.” He began to walk past her.

“Wait.” She called after him. Her hand twitched by her side. She wanted nothing more than to shoot the inspector where he stood. Instead, her fingers curled into a fist. “Give me a day. I’ll find out what you want to know.”

“You have until Sunday, noon.” He continued walking down the nave and exited the church.

The heavy doors closed, creating a ripple of sounds across the empty space. Ella hugged her arms around herself and turned to face the altar. She didn’t want to choose one or the other. No longer did she want to be pulled back and forth. But Tommy left her no option.

“I’ll ask for forgiveness later.” She whispered to whoever would bother to listen in the silent chapel.

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

Alfie knew there was something wrong with Ella. But he figured that she simply needed some time away from London. Everyone did at one point or another. An escape from the constant smoke, the sounds, the crowds. Alfie loved his city but there was nothing like Margate.

He hoped to see the relief on Ella’s face when they finally arrived at the beachside cottage. To be fair, she seemed happy, but there was still a hint of apprehension in her blue eyes. Ella took his hand as he helped her out of the car. Cyril jumped out of the backseat too and began running around the shell-covered drive.

She smiled as she took in the beautiful spot of land. A small stone cottage resting comfortably on a good-sized lawn nestled among an untamed garden. Roses flourished in the thick growth of lilies, and begonias. Ivy crawled up the cottage, etching itself into the grooves of the stones. A waist-height fence enclosed the little parcel of paradise. A path of flat rocks led away from the gate of the fence and snaked around the length of the fence, beckoning towards the bluff that overlooked the ocean.

“It’s beautiful.” She said softly.

Alfie was pleased. It was modest, certainly not a countryside estate that Tommy had, but it was peaceful. Damned if he ever needed more than just a few rooms to live comfortably. “Had it for a few years. Don’t come here as often as I like.” He picked up their bags and walked with her to the front gate. “Cyril loves it, loves having space to run ‘round. Don’t ya, mutt?”

The mastiff barked and bolted into the lawn. He sniffed around the perimeter as Ella and Alfie brought their things inside.

“Want to have a walk around before lunch? Town’s not too far from here. We could walk if you’d like. Or drive, doesn’t matter much.”

Ella didn’t answer at first. The cottage was cozy on the inside. There wasn’t much ornate detail or unnecessary luxury. The front room led into the kitchen and small breakfast nook. Further back was a sitting room that faced the ocean and was encased in glass almost in the fashion of a greenhouse. Warmth radiated from the room, soaked up by comfortable armchairs. Finally, a hallway led to two small bedrooms on the side of the cottage.

She paused in the sitting room by a bookshelf bolted to the wall. The books were sparse, unlike Alfie’s flat in London. Instead, photographs, shells, sea glass, and uniquely formed driftwood took up the shelves. Ella picked up one of the frames. “Is this your mum?” She asked quietly.

The woman in the worn photograph wore a tichel over her hair denoting her status as a wife. She wasn’t smiling but Ella surmised it was from a time when photographs took much longer to take. A smile was too difficult to hold for the amount of time it took. But Alfie’s mother didn’t look harsh or cold. She had a gentle look to her eyes, which Ella imagined were the same blue color as Alfie’s.

Alfie nodded. “Yeah, that’s me mum.” He said quietly. Her picture stayed in Margate for good reason. He didn’t want to remember her as the woman who suffered in London. The widow who took care of two unruly boys who were nearly always brought home by the cops before the sun set for the day. The woman who worked tirelessly to keep food on the table but still never had enough to scrape by. In London, she was always tired, sore, and heartbroken.

In Margate, Sofia was brought back to life by the salty air and sound of the waves crashing on the rocks. It was simply a short holiday they took every summer when Alfie and Joseph were younger. When she stood on the shore, watching her boys splash around in the cold water, she felt at peace. And that’s how Alfie wanted to remember her.

“She was beautiful.” Ella murmured. She carefully set the frame back in place next to a peach-colored conch and a perfectly intact scallop shell.

“Yeah she were, weren’t she?” He smiled and ran a hand through his hair. “Unbelievable she had someone like me for a son.”

Ella stuck out her lower lip and turned to him. “Are you fishing for compliments?” She teased and touched his chest.

He chortled and shook his head. “Fucking hell, you think I need to be told nice things?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Everyone likes to be told nice things.”

“Eh, don’t need to be fluffed up with things that ain’t true.”

“Well, I’m telling you the truth right now.” She replied firmly and moved her hand to his cheek. “You are, by far, the most handsome man I’ve ever met. And I adore seeing you every day.” She inched closer to him, her lips mere inches from his. “You’re charming and sweet and affectionate and clever and funny…”

Alfie’s lips parted and he felt like he was burning up with a fever. “Fuck, you tryna butter me up for something, love?” He asked a little breathlessly. His eyes dancing between her pink lips and blue eyes.

Ella smiled coyly and shook her head. Her thumb grazed over his bottom lip. “No, just trying to remind you how much I love you.”

“Message well received.” He laughed and tried to close the gap between them and kiss her.

But she slipped away, taking his hand. “You said you’d show me the beach?”

He groaned in disappointment. “Cheeky girl.”

“C’mon, I’ll kiss you on the beach.” She promised and tugged on his hand. For just an hour, she could ignore what she had to do. The call she had to make. The information she’d have to extract in order to keep Alfie out of handcuffs. Sunday. Sunday could wait.

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opheliasbrokenmind · 5 years

Text

new chapter - john shelby

requested by: anon said ‘3 from the prompt kiss for John Shelby ❤️’

prompt 3 : A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

word count : 2.7K+

a/n: well well well, so i made up the monastery and nursing education thing, don’t know there is something like that lol. btw this one doesn’t include martha and the kids bc i didn’t want to make the reader suffer much more hahaha. enjoy yourselves loves <3333

When you heard a knock on the door, you jumped slightly and closed your book. ‘Who the fuck is that at the three in the morning?’ You murmured and wore your cardigan on your silk nightgown. The person knocked again but you wouldn’t say that knocking, he was hitting the door wildly. You frowned, a little afraid but didn’t worry so much because you knew people can’t dare to come to your house, knowing who you were. In the end, you were a beloved friend of Shelby’s. At least most of them. They knew you since you were a teenage girl, you moved to Small Heath when you were fifteen. After a short time, you became friends with Ada and of course, with the rest of the Shelbys.

Ada was your best friend and you always got on well with Tommy and even his family thought you were something.. more than friends. You always see him as a friend, though and same thing for him. You two supported each other and gave advice, but nothing more. You also got along with Arthur and Finn, even with Polly and his son Michael. The only problem was John Shelby. You had to admit, things weren’t that bad before but now you hated each other. You were at the Shelby house when you first met him, he asked you if you were a whore. ‘Excuse me? You know nothing about how to talk to a lady, do you?’

You shouted and he threw a cocky smile in your way, ‘A lady?? You’re a teenage girl or a whore who looks so young, love. I’ll vote for the second, considering your clothes.’ He said the last part slowly and turned his eyes to your naked legs, you were wearing just a nightgown. You opened your mouth to talk and stop his glances but Ada burst into the room, ‘John! Stop looking at her like you’re about to eat her!! What the hell you thinking you’re doing? She is my friend you lunatic idiot!’ Ada screamed and Polly came in, ‘What’s happening?’ She turned your eyes to you, waiting for an explanation.

‘Well, last night I stayed with Ada and came here for a glass of water and I saw him, h-’ Ada cut off your sentence, ‘John was eye-fucking her when I came in! You need to do something Pol.’ Polly rolled her eyes, ‘You’re not little kids Ada, figure this out yourselves.’ You went upstairs, ignoring John’s eyes and Ada followed you. ‘I’m sorry, y/n.’ You smiled gently, ‘‘s okay, A. You’re not responsible for him, he didn’t know who was I also.’ She let out a heavy breath, ‘Thanks for not freaking out right now.’ You laughed and hugged her, ‘You’re my best friend.’

So your first meeting with John was not great but that didn’t stay like that. Soon, he apologized and when Ada went to a monastery for nursing education, you two got closer. You had blood phobia and you were definitely not a religious person so you didn’t go with her. John took you out of the country sometimes and you had so much fun with him. When that summer ended, you were like twins. Oh, but twins don’t have feelings for each other, do they? Feelings that make your heart flutter, you wanted to scream every time you saw him. You understood you fell for him when Ada asked you questions but all you could think was John.

‘From earth to y/n, what’s wrong with you?’ She asked and waved to get your attention, ‘Nothing, just thinking.’ She smiled, ‘Thinking about who?’ You looked at her, ‘John. No! I mean, Jews. What do you think about the Jews?’ You asked, trying to hide your stupidity. ‘My sweet y/n, you think you can fool me? Don’t tell me you fell for him. You’re not that stupid, he is arrogant.’ You grinned sheepishly, ‘Of course not. We spent some time together when you were away and he is a good guy. That’s all.’ Ada smiled but looked suspicious, she didn’t ask more questions, knowing you won’t answer.

Your friendship with John didn’t end but you weren’t close when Ada came back. You were too afraid to tell him how you felt, what if he ridicules you? You couldn’t bear it, you knew this. He was only two years older than you and years went so fast as you turn to eighteen. You thought your feelings would disappear as you grew up, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Even looking at him became torture for you and seeing him with random girls... You didn’t believe life after death but if there was a place called hell, yours would be just like this.

Then your worst nightmare came, the war. You didn’t want to let him go, you thought of everything to stop him from going there, but you didn’t do anything. You wanted to tell him, write to him. The years were so painful, they were like centuries. You didn’t spend a day without thinking about him, wondering if he was still alive. You prayed to God you didn’t believe for him. You prayed for all of them, every fucking hour of every fucking day. ‘You’re really going.’ You said when he was leaving for the war. ‘I am, aren’t I?’ He smiled widely as your heart skipped. ‘Come back here one piece, alright?’ You told, trying to sound like you don’t care. ‘I’ll be here.’

He looked bemused, ‘You’ll be here?’ You frowned, ‘Of course I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.’ You whispered under your breath, he heard you anyway. You stepped closer and planted a kiss on his cheek, moved away when his hand touched your small one. You ran to the Tommy and hugged him, leaving a shocked John alone. He stood for minutes, his hand on his cheek you kissed. That little kiss was the only thing you did on purpose to show him your feelings, but in your thoughts, he’d think you were just like a sister for him. You never believe that he’ll love you back and maybe that was the reason why you didn’t tell him.

You couldn't sleep when you haven’t heard from him. You couldn’t sleep when you reminded yourself that what could he’s dealing with right now. You couldn’t sleep when the news wrote that there were bodies they couldn’t specify their identities. You couldn’t sleep when the war ended because you didn’t hear from the boys for a while. You couldn’t sleep, you were too afraid. But they came back, they came back to their family. You were helping to Ada and Polly with the business. You went with them to the train station.

You saw the three eldest Shelby boys, you knew they changed before you saw them. They came back as men. When you looked into John’s eyes, you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t see the boy you loved for years, there was a broken man in his eyes. You didn’t know what to do so you greeted him simply and left there, saying that you didn’t feel good. You couldn’t sleep that night, it was like the boy you love was gone. You cried all night and didn’t go to work for a few days. Ada came to your house and found you in your bed, sobbing. She didn’t say anything but she understood you even though you said nothing.

The conversations you had with John was only formal, you didn’t speak to him unless it was necessary. His family noticed but didn’t say anything, Tommy tried to talk but you refused. You couldn’t sleep when you heard that John was going to marry Esme. You didn’t expect anyone to ask you or tell you but it was so unexpected for you. You didn’t go to the wedding, finding pretexts. You heard that he was happy, you didn’t do or say anything but when his lovely wife started to work in the betting shop.. that was too much, even for you.

John was there when you rudely opened the door of Tommy’s office, ‘Can we talk?’ You asked Tommy, ignoring his brother’s eyes. ‘Yeah, I’m listening.’ He noticed you didn’t want to speak in front of John, of course. ‘Alone.’ You insisted. ‘Whatever you’re going to say, you can tell him.’ Tommy pushed you and you did everything to stay calm. ‘Alright, I’m quitting the job.’ John’s lips parted apart, a shocked expression covered his beautiful face. ‘What?’ Thomas didn’t say anything like he was waiting for this. ‘I want to start a business of my own.’ That was all you said.

You cried that day when you left the building. You didn’t bother to pick your things, you knew Ada would bring them to you. You had plenty of money, you bought a place near your house and turned it to a flower shop. There were women to help you and you weren’t so sad for a while. But one day the doorbell rang and you saw the man you never expected, John. He came in and walked to you slowly, you froze. ‘Hey.’ He said. ‘How can I help you?’ You asked like he was a stranger to you. ‘I came here to buy some flowers, for Esme.’ That was enough for you, you called a woman. ‘Can you help this man? I have some errands to run.’

You left the shop, went to your house and after drinking some alcohol, you allowed yourself to break into tears. You wanted to die, to disappear. You’d be thankful if someone came in and killed you. Someone actually came, but he was Tommy. He knew, of course, he knew. He took you into his arms and you cried, stopped holding the tears. The pain you felt made you feel sick, you couldn’t take it. ‘I’ll kill myself.’ Your voice cracked, Tommy held you tighter. ‘That’s not happening, love. Not as long as I live. John was there because they fought. I don’t think they can continue this.’ He explained and you asked, ‘What?’

‘When I forced him to marry Esme, I thought he’d love her and I’d win. I didn’t expect him to act wild, he hates her. I mean, he always tells that he can’t be with a woman he doesn’t love and I’m tired of this, you know. If he doesn’t want this, I can’t control him for years. I just want to ask you one thing, are you going to tell him how you feel?’ You looked at Tommy and gave a shaky breath, ‘No. I stayed silent for too long and I’m not willing to reveal my feelings now. Do they even matter, to him? I don’t think so, Tommy. This is a thing that should have ended years ago, I’m just being childish.’ He didn’t say anything and left after comforting you.

It’s been two weeks since all of these happened, you continued to work and Ada came to see you nearly every day. You didn’t see the other Shelbys, at least you didn’t see John. Finn brought you some pastries from the cafe you used to go when he was a little boy and Michael asked you if you needed anything. You also spent some time with your other friends but you weren’t expecting anyone. ‘Hello?’ You asked as you opened the door and you were speechless when you saw the person outside your door. Your jaw dropped to the floor as you stared at him with wide-open eyes. ‘W-what are you doing here?’ You forced yourself the speak.

‘Can I come in?’ was all he said before stepping in, you closed the door behind him. He walked and sat on the big sofa you were reading on until he came. ‘What’s happening?’ You talked again, trying to put a stern expression on your face. You walked to where he sat slowly, dragging your feet. You stopped when you stood in front of him and couldn’t speak when you saw his face. John Shelby’s beautiful face was covered in tears, you brought your hand to your mouth as you stepped back. A new feeling attacked you, fear. What could make him came to your house at the three of the morning and cry? ‘I’m sorry.’ He whispered as a tear fell down from his cheek.

His hand reached for you and then you saw that his wedding ring was nowhere to be seen. You didn’t protest when he pulled you to sit next to him. ‘Why are you sorry?’ You asked but didn’t wait to hear an answer and hugged him shyly. ‘Jesus, y/n. I’m so sorry. I should have known.’ He cried softly on your chest and you squeezed his shoulder, tried to show that you were here. ‘Shhh, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want. You can tell me later.’ You spoke kindly, reaching for the thin blanket without leaving him. ‘No. I have to speak, you have a right to know.’ He stopped you and you gestured him to speak.

‘I.. I don’t know where to start. You probably don’t know, we divorced with Esme cause I couldn’t stand anymore. Tommy told me something... something that I should know before. I thought you hated me y/n. You always seemed nervous whenever I came. You didn’t even look at me, you didn’t speak to me when we came back from France. There was always a distance between us and I thought that was what you want. I wanted to be with you, I wanted to tell you that I love you but I was scared! I was scared because I thought you saw me as a friend, as a brother. How could I be so stupid? I should have talked to you. We lost years, y/n and I broke your heart countless times, didn’t I?’

You couldn’t say anything when he stopped talking, you were stunned. You knew that he was telling the truth and the truths... are bitter. You didn’t realize that you were crying until a big hand covered your cheek and his thumb wiped the tears away. You tried to stifle a sob but you couldn’t.. You sobbed as he took you in his arms and hugged you but you escaped from him. ‘I can’t believe.’ You whispered to yourself and closed your eyes, ‘I love you, John. I loved you since the day you took me to picnic the summer when Ada wasn’t here. But... I don’t know what to do right now.’ Then, the first time that night, you looked at him. You saw the deep meaning behind his ocean eyes, you saw how different he looked.

John looked at you, your lovely eyes still shining with tears but they were looking at him directly. His stares fell from your eyes to your lips, your mouth parted slightly as he licked his dry lips. He thought how vulnerable you looked before talking and then, a breathy demand fell from his lips, ‘Kiss me.’ You felt the feelings in his voice and you didn’t hesitate for a second before touching to his lips with yours. You kissed him softly at first but passion took you over and he responded to you, capturing your lips. You took off his cap as his hands cupped your cheeks and he deepened the kiss. When you parted away, both of you were breathless. You didn’t open your eyes and John rested his forehead on yours.

He moved away from your face a little to see you better, he was mesmerized with the sight. That was the face he wanted to see every morning when he opened his eyes. ‘I love you since I saw you that morning, in the kitchen. You were the most natural and innocent girl I’ve ever seen in my life and I was captivated. I want you since that day, y/n. I’m sorry for not telling you how I felt earlier.’ You opened your eyes and smiled brightly, ‘I’m sorry, too. But we wasted enough time.’ He looked nervous and you continued, ‘I told you I’ll always be here when you were leaving for the war. I’m still here and I won’t leave.’ A small smile played on his lips, ‘What do you want me to do now?’

‘Now? Oh, kiss me.’ You said and he attacked to your lips as his smile widened and you laughed into the kiss. It was like you were sixteen again, the boy you loved was in your arms and kissing you. Yeah, you waited for too long but it worth it. It was the beginning of a new chapter and both of you were ready for it.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby #john shelby #peaky blinder headcanon #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #alfie solomons #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #michael gray imagine #michael gray #polly gray #ada shelby #finn shelby #arthur shelby #peaky blinder #joe cole

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lisinfleur · 5 years

Text

Unnoticed

Author’s Notes | Forgive me for taking too long to answer your request. At POTD ed1, a blackout in my house messed up my archives and I lost the document of your request only finding it months after the event. I'm sorry. But here it is! I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for the sweet request! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ubbe x Second Wife! Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for POTD1, queued for 5CW4 Words | 2294 ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, Erotic non-graphic SMUT included, ANGST, romance. +18

You never were too close to Ubbe as you wanted to be. As a bride his mother took for him - and not one of his own choice - you knew you wouldn't be loved as Margrethe was. Neither you were expecting anything like this from a young man like him. So, when he started treating you as nothing but a sister – with kindness and respect, but not a third of Margrethe’s attention or any passion – you didn't make any complaint.

It wasn't the life of your dreams, of course. You always dreamed about a loving husband, lots of children, a house you could turn into a warm and cozy home. You prepared yourself your whole life for this: you learned how to sew, to cook, to properly care for wounds and babies. But in the end, it all turned into a peaceful lonely life once Margrethe never saw you as a threat to her supremacy into Ubbe's life as much as he never saw you as a wife for real.

You were... Almost a piece of decoration, fulfilling your paper by his side, silent almost all the time since you never liked to talk too much.

It wasn't the life you wanted. But it wasn't bad at all.

Of course, you liked your husband. He was never a bad man and to you, he was always gentle and respectful. So, you grew up in feelings for him and when he lost his father and went on that trip for vengeance, you prayed for his safe return and made your own sacrifices and offers for the gods to protect his life.

When he came back, wounded, you thought about offering yourself to care for his wounds, but he was way too busy with Margrethe's attention and even you had prepared everything to watch for his injuries, you didn't knock on their door, not wanting to bother any of them.

Ubbe was wounded, tired and probably missing his beloved... You could understand, for more your heart was aching. You wanted some of that attention. In the bottom of your heart, you wanted him to want your presence, to search for you and miss you as he seemed to miss your sister wife.

Yet, you spent your night in prayers and offers to the gods, in gratitude for his safe return, despite the bad news that came with him.

At the next morning, Ubbe came to you for small talk, only to know if you were well treated in his absence - since the woman sitting on Kattegat's throne wasn't your mother in law anymore. It was gentle from him to be interested in knowing if you were ok, in need of anything, or being well treated. In the end, he was still concerned about you and it was good, right?

But it was near Margrethe he was sitting at the table and in her bed he was sleeping for the second night in a row.

It made you sad. But why should you say anything? His mother was the only reason why the two of you were married and you should be grateful he didn't ask for the divorce as soon as lady Aslaug was killed, right?

Once again, you made your prayers, being grateful to the gods you were still married to an honored man. And slept alone.

However, in the middle of the night, something weighted by your side in the bed of furs, and you quickly turned yourself, scared someone had invaded your room.

"I'm sorry... I didn't want to wake you up, Y/N. May I sleep here tonight? Would it bother you, wife?" Ubbe asked as you were sighing in relief from seeing your husband's figure sitting by your side.

He had a bothered expression in his face as if something was weighing on his shoulders. And his eyes were still hurt; the wounds still fresh in some parts of the cut. Didn't Margrethe make the stitches? Why she was waiting so long for doing this?

Did they fight each other or anything like this?

"Of course, you can sleep here, Ubbe. You're my husband, you can come whenever you want... Is your wound still bleeding?" you asked, surprised.

Looking from closer, there was still blood into it! Didn’t she care for him?

"Margrethe cleaned up. She said it will probably bleed for a while and leave a scar. It doesn't matter," he laid, still seeming way too bothered with whatever that brought him out of Margrethe’s room and into yours.

"May I?" you asked before touching him, receiving a careless nod before he closed his eyes allowing you to see how far the wounds were extending.

It was lucky he wasn't blind. Whatever struck him luckily didn't hit the eye, but it was pretty close. You picked up your herbs paste and separated the line and needle touching Ubbe's face to call his attention, noticing he had almost fallen asleep with your touches.

"Your hands are smooth... I almost slept, sorry," he said, looking at you.

It was the first time he was praising anything about you, and you couldn't help yourself from smiling or blushing a little. It made him curve his lips in a small smile.

"I can make some stitches... To close your wounds faster," you said, causing his face to twitch in a confused expression.

"Margrethe said it wouldn't need stitches. Is it that bad?" he asked.

"It's open. The stitches shall be very precise," you said.

Maybe Margrethe wasn't feeling so secure to make stitches that precise. But you knew how to make them. It wouldn't be hard. And you said anything about her words for you didn’t want to look as if you were trying to depreciate your sister wife’s skills or anything. You really knew how to work on those stitches and it wouldn’t be a problem to do them in her place.

"Fine," he said, laying again "Not a problem at all."

You slid your needle in the herb paste, wetting it to make it sterile and to help with his pain: the needle would insert the paste in his skin while passing and anesthetize the local, causing him to suffer less the stitches procedure.

With firm hands and precise fingers, you sewed the whole wound, softly applying the paste in his face, after everything was done, to help it to heal faster and diminish his pain.

"It's done," you said, and he opened his eyes, looking at you with an impressed expression.

"You're really good at it," he praised again, one more time making you blush.

But this time, he didn't let it pass.

"And you're beautiful when you blush this way..."

The sentence just made you blush even more, gagging with the words to answer him, causing Ubbe to smile at your innocence.

"I... I tried to learn... For... I always thought... My husband could be a warrior and..." you tried to justify yourself, but his hands touched yours softly.

"I'm glad you learned this. It makes me a lucky man for being your husband, after all."

His voice sounded so tender. And his eyes almost mesmerized yours. You caught yourself looking at him, silently observing how beautiful he was. You never were this close to Ubbe since your marriage night, and on that night, he was a little drunk, so you have almost no time to look at him properly.

He was a beautiful man, indeed. And his eyes were so mesmerizing… So deep…

You felt his hand caressing your face, and he softly approached, kissing your lips slowly, almost allowing you to pull away if you didn't want his touch.

But why wouldn’t you want that?

Why would you pull away from something you wanted so hard?

Instead, you slid your hands slowly through his chest, landing them softly in his shoulders, coming closer, leaning completely into his caresses, receiving him with all the tenderness you ever wanted to have the chance to show to your husband.

Ubbe was feeling so lost in the middle of all things that were happening around him... His mother's murder, his father's death, Sigurd's death, Ivar's madness, Hvitserk's betrayal... And now Margrethe's unstoppable ambition for a crown he never realized she wanted so bad. His heart was a mess and for the first time, he found the peace he was searching for since it all began.

In your lips…

He pulled away when the kiss finished, looking at you almost confused. And then, he kissed you again, deeper, as if he was searching some kind of confirmation of his feelings you didn't care about giving him.

With tender hands, you embraced his body against yours, offering him a cozy hug into which he leaned without resistance. And your hands softly caressed his nape and back, relieving his tension, relaxing his muscles slowly.

Curious about those new and strange feelings, Ubbe came closer, leaning your body towards the bed, under his; deepening the kiss with which he was tasting a flavor he didn't have in a while. More than the sweetness of your lips, that kiss was bringing him a strange peace, as if he was away from his home for too long and finally found his way back.

Into your arms...

You didn't stop him from touching your body or opening your nightgown. Neither you tried to prevent his mouth from exploring your skin. Instead, you offered him long moans in a low voice, shy even in your pleasure, charming him even more than your sweetness was doing already.

He felt the need to test you by giving you the same he offered so gladly to Margrethe when he first came home. All the need... All the lust... All the love.

What would you give back to him?

Margrethe gave him ambition... She gave him a disappointment. Like Hvitserk, she made him feel betrayed, used as if she had married him only to become a free woman and, in the future, a queen.

But what would you give back for his love?

The answer came quickly in your voice sounding so melodic or your body moving, arching in pleasure for his touches. You opened your arms for him, you received him into you one more time, but not only mounting him like a stallion, seeking for his seed as a warranty of your position.

You loved him... He could feel it.

Your tight grip around his body, your need for his skin glued to yours, the warm way you were moving against him, following his movements, trying to keep the space in between the two of you as small as you could... Even the way his name was sounding in your voice, so passionate, so full of more than lust and eagerness...

Every single thing in you was... Different. Cozy. Charming... Better.

And when he came within your body, filling your womb with his thick seed, you didn't hold him against your hips tighter or prevented him to move, trying to get him deeper just for seeding your womb with his child. No. You held him tenderly...

You embraced him, receiving his tired body over yours and softly kissing the crook of his neck, panting with him, spreading that warmth all over his body.

Pretty more than just having sex and giving him the pleasure he was used to having from Margrethe...

You gave him love.

You made love with him.

Just for love.

You noticed he was looking at you, confused for a moment. And you smiled, so innocently, so sweet and shy, with your cheeks going red again as if the two of you didn't were having sex seconds ago.

"What? You're making me blush, husband..." you giggled, in such a tender moment.

And so, the walls in his heart were broken and Ubbe touched your face with all the tenderness in the world, caressing your red cheeks and smiling at you.

"Nothing... I'm just realizing how blessed by the gods I was when they brought me you."

You smiled softly at him and he kissed you one more time, laying by your side and holding your body closer to his.

Somehow, his face wasn't bothered anymore and relaxed, you soon fell asleep with your head laid on his chest; his heartbeat sounding like a good and sweet lullaby.

Caressing your soft hair, Ubbe lost some good time looking at the ceiling, thinking about what just happened in his life. All the turns the wheels of destiny had taken and all the changes that happened from nowhere. From all of them, you were unexpected but also, the most wanted. For the first time since it all began, in your arms, Ubbe felt the gods had finally heard his mourning and prayers. Finally, there was a refugee to his tired body, mind, and soul. A home to come back. A place to rest.

To be safe.

He nestled himself into your arms and sighed. Tomorrow, he would accept Lagertha's proposal and close allegiance with her despite all that happened. He would fight for a place where he could live with you and leave behind everything that happened before. His mother's murder, his father's death, his brother's loss, Hvitserk's betrayal, Margrethe's ambitions...

Ivar's wrath.

He found himself a safe refuge from all the mess of his life and he would fight to keep it safe and to give you what you really deserved from this day on.

With this in mind, Ubbe rested his head upon his pillow and fell asleep with the scent of your hair impregnated in his breath. He knew something new was coming, something not easy. But it would be something good as long as he had your arms to come back at the end of each day.

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