#Flower Husbands Sleeping Beauty AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvvixu · 8 days

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mind over matter pt. 1

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

tags: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, miscarriage, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: y'all, im back after ghosting this page for way too lonh cuz im on my process of taking psychology. yep! this random bitch is up for being a psychologist despite her mental health place amidst the fluctuating status. and you know what's crazy? my sanity is slowly decomposing! all thanks to that one mf and one chapter in which im not going to name about (gege and jjk chapter 261)

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it all started when he started caring for you.

after being inside an arranged marriage for like five years, satoru was confident with himself that he doesn't need a wife to console his woes as he is perfectly capable all by himself.

to say the least, the start of your marriage was a definition of an absolute disaster. clearly, you and satoru were like a magnet in the same pole, it can never collide despite how many efforts you push on both magnets.

from fights, misunderstanding, up to almost divorce after you caught him kissing another girl when you decided to give him a visit during his mission.

you were hurt, yes. but you would always tell yourself that neither of you want this marriage, so being hurt when there's no even love is called invalid. yet, you can't still help it but to feel somewhat jealous because he was supposed to be your husband—but oh well.

your family begged you to stay as it was for the peace of mind and safety of your clan. you snorted sarcastically as you wondered if they ever cared for your personal peace of mind and safety also.

nevertheless, you still stay inside this loveless marriage and maintain the gojo surname. you forgive him even though he's not explaining himself nor asking for your forgiveness.

as for satoru, he's aware that he's being a dick to you. his reason is that this marriage was his least priority as it was a hindrance for him. so basically and truth may hurt, he thinks you're only a hindrance and a distraction from the higher ups.

there were times where he would bury himself with work so he doesn't have to go to his original home and breathe the same air as you.

there were also times where he spent almost two months without seeing you or even communicating with you. it was like you didn't exist in his life nor he doesn't have a wife!

although, he is not that cruel to the point that he would slam the fact in your face. no, he's just leaving his presence until you feel it yourself that he doesn't want you.

his shenanigans would continue for almost a year until that night occurred.

that night when it was your wedding anniversary and he came home very late after fighting some annoying curse. he took a swearing underneath his breath when the stinky smell of curse blood hit his nose.

scrunching up as he was about to proceed to his own room (despite being married, you two sleep in a separate room) to clean up when he saw you up by the garden. you are currently watching how your little seedlings grow into beautiful flowers swaying along the air with a calm look on your face.

your husband broke the silence by asking you what are you doing this late. in which you replied that you couldn't sleep as you slowly looked at him.

satoru watched your face, it did not even flinch with any kind of emotion—nothing, just nothing. you're basically acting like a robot to him, and he hates it.

"i'll prepare a warm bath for you." you mumbled, standing on your feet and was about to leave when he grabbed your arm.

"i heard what happened earlier." satoru said slowly, as if he's being careful on his words which was very out of character for him.

"really? great." detaching from his hold, you left him no chance and instantly left.

"y/n." the man followed you until both of you reached the bathroom. you paid him no attention and just did the usual things you do, prepare him a bath.

"talk to me, please." his tone becomes soft, pleading. turning the water on, you refused to turn around, you refused to make physical contact with him, you refused to let him see the tears brimming in your eyes.

"go on. say what you want to say. i'm listening." you mentally curse yourself for almost stuttering. satoru looked at you, eyes finally unveiling an emotion. he aches to hold you for some reason but to think that he doesn't want to upset you even further, he stops. all he can do is watch you serve him.

"do you want to keep it?" he asked quietly, his ocean blue eyes dropping on your stomach. getting uncomfortable, you tried to hide it.

splash, splash, splash, you did not answer him.

"i said, do you want to keep it?" satoru asked once again. this time, his voice was a bit louder than before.

"i don't know. do you want to?" you asked him back the question, quietly.

your husband went quiet. having a child is not part of your plan but you have to because that's your purpose of marrying him, to bear an heir. now, satoru was asking you nicely if you want to keep it when in the first place, it should happen this way.

"how many months?"

"two."

"and you didn't tell me?"

"do you want to know?"

"of course i want to know. that's literally my child in there." he pointed to your belly with a slight frustration on his face.

you did not say anything back, just continuing your duties as his wife—wife on papers. satoru was growing upset, tired, even angry at you. where was the talkative and fierce look that you have? where's the harshness in your voice? why do you look so vulnerable now?

"you can take a bath now. i'll be downstairs to prepare you dinner."

"y/n, wait—"

*slam*

before satoru could even stop you, you already left, leaving him in all silence. the husband heaves a deep sigh within him as he recollects the events prior to this day. he remembers how he acted when he discovered to ijichi that you went to the hospital and went back home with a pregnancy result in your pocket.

satoru remembers almost getting killed by the special curse when the news caught him totally off guard. you two only have intercourse when both are drunk after coming home from shoko's birthday and that's it. you also told him that you were on pills so he's relieved. but how?

what if—

no, no, no. you wouldn't. you wouldn't do that to him. you are his little loyal wife and even though both of you aren't on good terms, he trusted your loyalty…or was he? were you?

everything was so messed up that he couldn't think of anything even after taking a shower and now he's on his way downstairs to eat dinner. once he was in the kitchen, he saw you almost absentmindedly cutting the vegetables.

satoru took a seat, quietly. he was watching you as your back was facing him. his six eyes weren't dumb to notice how much weight you are slowly losing. unconsciously, satoru was clutching his fists tightly.

"i bought you your favorite milk tea. it's in the fridge, you can drink it later." your voice seemingly dropped him from his daze. satoru looked at you once more, only to find out that you're still not facing him back.

"o…okay, thanks."

minutes later, you place a plate of curry in front of him. satoru noticed that there's only one plate on the table, which was his.

"where's your meal?"

"i already ate." oh right, it was literally midnight now. you should be asleep by now, yet here you are, serving your husband. also, why does it seem like satoru was hoping to eat dinner with you? it is unusual, to be honest.

for your five years of marriage, you two would only eat together for formal matters. but with a simple domestic setting like this, there's no way a peace would occur if the two of you shared a table and a meal.

while he is eating, satoru watches you grab the said milk tea from the fridge and place it in front of him. "just leave the dishes on the sink. i'll wash them later." and with that, you left the dining room.

the food was great, it was very delicious. satoru can't deny that you're great at cooking, and you really have a specialty when it comes to curry like this. but why does this meal taste bitter? perhaps, was it because of the taste of his conscience? he doesn't know.

the six eyes ate in silence. he was planning to talk to you later about everything. but anyway, satoru has been eyeing the milk tea you bought for him. now this wasn't unusual. everytime you would go out, you would always buy him some of his favorites, mostly food.

like there's a time where you bought him his favorite mochi, crepe cakes, churros, ice creams—basically every dessert or food stalls you happened to pass by. it warms his heart, though. there's also a time where he anticipated what kind of sweet delicacy you would give him next.

anyway, satoru finished eating his meal. he was drinking the milk tea you gave to him while searching for you. he saw you sitting on the same spot when he first saw you this evening, by the patio of your garden. silently, satoru took a seat beside you with a mindful distance between you two.

"can we talk?" he started. in which you reply with a soft hum. satoru finds himself gulping, he sets aside his drink first before mimicking your posture—wrapping his arms on his folded legs.

"so um, since there's a baby now…i'd like to discuss this matter with you, properly. i was thinking about…moving you in one of the jujustu high's dorms." satoru nibbles the straw of the sugary drink, absentmindedly.

"it's for safety measures, since i'm not always at home and the risk will be doubled by now. but if you're inside the campus, a lot of sorcerers would be able to protect you." he added.

"okay." you did not even question him or even argue with him, you just simply agree without a second thought.

the man could feel himself gulping, the bitterness increasing despite the sweet liquid he was drinking. he's starting to get uncomfortable the way you are currently acting.

also, come to think of it, you agreed to temporarily live in jujustu high—does that mean you are keeping the baby? satoru couldn't help but to finally ask you.

"d…does that mean—"

"the baby has nothing to do with us. i'm not that cruel to take its life." before satoru could beat you, you already beat him.

"when will i be moving out?"

satoru gulped the growing rare anxiousness down to his throat. "probably next week. give me some time to deliver this news to the higher ups." you just mumbled an okay as your response.

"y/n, are you really sure about this?" the man couldn't really pinpoint your decision. although you made it explicit, he still couldn't comprehend you.

"i'm okay with anything. it's just you who didn't. also, if you are planning to ask me about keeping the child once again, go ask yourself instead. your decision is my decision." you replied.

satoru made a mental note that your voice sounds more tired than before. it kinda ignited something that he was not used to feeling before as literally a man-god himself who's full of pride.

"i'll be resting now. have a good night." he did not stop you, in fact, he thinks it's for the better. satoru could only follow you by his gaze as you enter your own room.

yes, your own room. the two of you did not share the same room. you two couldn't even bear to eat together, what more on sleeping together. this is not what satoru meant when he asked you to talk. but oh well, guess he should also call this a night. with that, satoru retreated to his own room and slept.

fast forward, you moved to jujutsu high and started teaching as a history teacher in a world full of related curses(suggested by satoru) since you're an alumni at this school like your husband. you like that idea too since it's a great way to distract yourself from everything.

currently, you are watching your third year students train themselves along with the second years and the first years. it was quite a good sight since all of them have a nice and strong potential as a sorcerer.

suddenly, one of your husband's students came to you with a big smile on his face. that must be yuuji, the vessel for the infamous king of curses. you always adored him, he's a good kid. but you couldn't help but to be saddened by the fact that he was literally carrying a big burden over his life.

"y/n sensei, good afternoon!" he waved at you before taking a seat nearby you. behind him, you saw his two other friends—your husband's students too.

"oi, you're being too loud." megumi scolded his friend. he was worried that yuuji's loudness was too much for your situation, your pregnancy.

"it's fine, megumi." you just chuckled. "i have some extra chocolate bars here, you three can have it." the trio thanked you happily, while you just smiled in return.

"by the way, we have a question for you, y/n sensei." yuuji said, munching on the chocolate. you asked him to shoot the question but he suddenly hesitated, looking at his two friends for support.

when he received the support he needed, he took a deep breath. "y/n sensei, we were wondering about your husband a-and…" yuuji trailed off. you already know what he meant, so you didn't wait for him any further.

"oh, i suppose you are curious because you haven't seen my husband even though i technically lived here?" the smile still lingers on your face as you watch them nod their heads.

there's something that you forgot to mention to them, they don't know that their teacher is your husband and the father of your child. you were prepared for a situation like this, though.

megumi on the other hand, could've known this beforehand since satoru took care of him during his childhood. then your marriage came through and your husband was already taking care of megumi, but it was kept a secret to everyone—including him.

stroking your six months belly, a recent hobby of yours when you want to seek some comfort. "he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower me with love by making sure that we still communicate despite his busy schedule."

"lately, we've barely talked. yet, he promised me that he will finish all of his jobs and tasks before going home to me. probably that's when our child is about to be born." you sigh just to justify this facade.

the students seem to believe your story. although you're quite worried that they might tell this to gojo and your cover will be blown. you planned to talk about this to him, anyway.

"that must've been hard, y/n sensei." nobara mumbles out of sympathy. she was worried for you and your child due to the absence of your husband.

if only they knew that your experience was much harder.

"you could always come to us, y/n sensei. we will not hesitate to help you and your child." beaming brightly as the other two agreed, you really adore yuuji. the amount of softness he gave to you is something that your future child would like to possess.

"thank you, you three. now, you all better go back to training. i will be heading to shoko since i promised to visit her." watching as the three wave their good-byes to you, you couldn't help but to feel an urge to protect them at all cost. probably due to your maternal instinct but whatever, you just hoped they would stay safe.

another fast forward, you are on your way towards shoko's office to spend your free time. knocking softly on her wooden door, shoko opens the door with a smile on her face.

"how's my little mama doing?" she engulfed you with a hug, which you returned warmly.

"good. the morning sickness did not attack me today, thank goodness." you said as you took a seat on her sofa.

shoko also commented that she was happy too. as mentioned before, stroking your six month old baby bump is a must on a daily basis. you are now used with a thought and feeling of a growing child inside you.

"and how're you and dickhead gojo?" shoko changes the topic.

"we were just fine like i have said before."

your friend heave the deepest sigh you've ever known. "just fine? y/n, do you want me to say the like i have said before too?"

"sho, ever since we knew that we're having a baby, we really tried our best to be compatible with each other. but we just couldn't." it's true, on the exact tomorrow of that eventful night wherein gojo discovers your pregnancy, he tried to make it up to you by lessening the sparkling arguments, making sure you are well feeded, and even showering you with things your eyes would have landed on.

you are delighted, of course. even though he absolutely fails his duty as your husband, at least he's trying his best to be a good father for your child. you appreciate him for that and also start to open your heart and pour a little more trust to him.

however, you are not dumb to notice the faint smell of a female's perfume and lipstick stain on his neck whenever he's with you. your heart slowly closes once again and your little more trust shatters.

once you saw yourself crying silently—feeling betrayed and angry for yourself on trusting him shortly after that. guess old habits never die, you are crying about something you've already expected. self-blaming is an understatement for letting your guard absolutely down.

gojo's still a jerk even though you had his baby. i should've expected this. having a baby doesn't mean he's going to change for me.

"we both tried, sho—we both tried. but we just couldn't." your voice dropped its tone once more. you still felt bitter even if it happened way back like two months ago.

"or he just couldn't." she snorted sarcastically.

you both knew she's right, gojo just couldn't. for years of being married, you unfortunately learned how to love a man like him who doesn't even give a one shit about you. tragic. very fucking tragic. if only you could see yourself directly, you would laugh at her nonstop.

"maybe this marriage is meant to be loveless—"

*slam!*

"yo shoko, i need—oh…" the door suddenly bursts open as it reveals your hot issue for today and probably for the rest, your husband gojo. you could tell that he was also surprised (but he shouldn't be) to see you here in shoko's infirmary.

"learn to fucking knock, gojo." shoko hissed at the white haired male.

"oh sorry. am i interrupting something?" he asked, looking at everything but you. he refused to spare you even a small glance, which you kinda do the same.

"you're not. now what do you need?" shoko was the one who answered him.

before gojo could even open his mouth , you already excused yourself. "i'll be taking my leave now. thanks for the check up, shoko." and then you left, leaving shoko and gojo with an awkward silence.

"aren't you going to talk about your business or maybe you want me to kick you out?" shoko sarcastically made a comment.

"right…" satoru cleared up his throat. for some reason, he doesn't know why he's suddenly getting iffy.

"ho…how's the child doing?"

"you have to be fucking kidding me." shoko groaned loudly. somehow, she expected this, but she couldn't believe that she would actually encounter this.

"y/n was just right there moments ago and you didn't even bother to ask her that yourself?!" the doctor could feel herself getting really annoyed. the truth may hurt but she's getting annoyed by the two of you.

fight here, ignore there—ignore there, fight here.

"bet she told you that we're not on good terms even though we really tried to work it out. yet, you're seemingly acting clueless." satoru snorted sarcastically. he's not dumb that you're telling stories to your friend, shoko.

the doctor rolled her eyes. she was this close from smashing his old friend's face to the wall to wake him up and stop being an idiot. "every fucking time, gojo. but that should not be an excuse to not talk to her. you two are still married for god's sake, and now, there's even a child along the way. i can see how much effort y/n has put in your marriage, you must do the same."

"don't you dare to compare her efforts to mine, you know nothing." he growls.

"but i sure know how shitty you are."

something inside satoru snaps. "why are you being angry at me?! you've been like this since we got married. always defending y/n, but what about me?! i have been your friend since highschool and you just met that girl! wouldn't it be unfair to side with someone whom you just met?!"

"you're asking me that when you have six eyes and yet, you can't see how much she suffers from you?!”

“but what about me? am i not suffering too?!”

how did we get here? things are getting pretty out of hand. two friends getting fired up because of a marriage that was about to fall apart. one being inside the marriage while the other one has the eye inside the marriage.

both shoko and gojo have their own sides but it all leads back to one thing, you are involved.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage. everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

“just want, what? end your marriage by divorcing her?”

the moment the last syllables escaped her lips, she already knew the answer.

“fucking gojo.” shoko mumbles under her breath. “if you want to fix your life, you better not act dumb.”

satoru was still caught silent. his wide eyes trailed on the floor and unable to move. shoko saw how she hit the point. sighing over herself, she motioned the door. “get out, gojo. if you're gonna rethink your life choices, do it in your home with your wife.”

and with that, without a word, satoru left her clinic feeling heavy and defeated.

along the hallway, he saw you. satoru saw you looking at him with horror in your eyes—for the first time in one month, you finally looked him in the eyes, but it's filled with fear and tears.

“y/n, i—” just like what he had done before he left shoko's clinic, you left without saying a word.

satoru felt everything become hazy, his knees were trembling, his six eyes were stinging, his lips were turning white on how hard he bites them. the man shuddered in disappointment, you must have heard everything.

his feet act on their own and chases you, holding you by the wrist. but it was torn away immediately after you forcefully snatched it back. while doing so, satoru didn't fail to notice the hot tears streaming on your pale face, in which you immediately wiped it out.

“y/n, i-it’s not what you think. i…” as much as satoru would like you to hear himself, he hasn't gotten the words. he was left stuck by his own thoughts and self-doubt that he puts himself into shame.

meanwhile, you thought you could've just walked away from the scene. but from the moment you hear shoko and satoru exchange heated words, it gets you glued to the floor and unable to move. despite her clinic being semi-soundproof, you hear everything. even if you're not there in the room physically, you seemingly know everything.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage.”

“everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

“y/n,” satoru called your name. his tone was very far from you used to. you grow accustomed to him saying your name venomously, but now it seems like he's saying your name delicately and vulnerable…and satoru hates being vulnerable.

“i know what you're thinking. i accidentally eavesdropped but i didn't t hear everything.” you internally praise yourself for being a great actress. you thank yourself for not stuttering and not sounding so dejected.

but you lied. you're a terrible liar. you heard everything. you heard every single thing that escaped his lips during his argument inside your friend's office. and you feel like dying, his words hurt you so much more than any deadly curses.

“have you eaten already? do you want me to prepare you for a bath?” satoru couldn't understand why the heck you still care for your wife duties when your husband, him, just broke your heart not so long ago?

you're acting absolutely strange in his eyes and he hates it. he hates how you would just bury or bottle your emotions. you're creating a facade and a labyrinth where you keep it by yourself.

“y/n, it's not time for anything. let's just talk please.” you hate it how he sounds like he's begging, but satoru never begs.

“let’s go to my room. let's talk this out—”

“gojo sensei! yaga sensei was looking for y—oh…” yuuji trailed his tracks when he saw you and satoru together.

“dummy! why do you just yell like that?!” megumi bonked his friend's head for interrupting your talk.

wearing your mask again, you smiled at the duo then brushed yourself away from the scene. satoru couldn't stop you any further, you're already away from him.

either way, satoru does the same, he wore his mask just like you. smiling at his students, he let them navigate the way towards yaga and deal with all of his shits so he would have time and talk to you properly this time.

meanwhile, yuuji and megumi were dismissed after they had done their task. nudging his black haired friend, yuuji pointed out things earlier.

“hey, fushiguro. is it just me or did i just see y/n sensei…crying?” he questioned. megumi remained silent because even saw that you were crying—they’re also not dumb to notice the burst energy somewhere inside your body.

“whether she is or not, it's none of our business.” megumi replied.

“i know. but i couldn't help but to feel really worried about her. you know crying can be bad, especially when you're pregnant, that could stress her out.” yuuji surprisingly knows how pregnancy somehow works. but they both know he's right again. they're worried about you and your baby, so they both take a mental note to visit you later.

as you slam the door behind you, a silent sob escapes your lips as you slide your back behind the wooden frame. along with the sound of your cries, was also the sound of your heart breaking.

for some reason, the facade you just put up there early makes you suffocate. it burns your eyes and it makes you shudder in pain. the hyperventilating noise escapes from your lips while you clutch the handful of fabrics of your blouse.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage.”

“everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

god, that feeling burns! his words keep on burning in your head, engraving the letters piece by piece. those words are not too cruel, it's a little far from what you had heard before. but it came out directly from your husband's mouth, the father of your baby.

maybe, you think you acted this way because of your hormones. but nonetheless, he's like blaming you for all of his misfortunes and that made you recall your past arguments with him before.

it was like a collection of puzzles coming up together, picturing a clear image; you were just a distraction, he wanted nothing to do with you, you were just a burden, he wanted to dissolve this marriage, you would never be his, he wanted to be free from you.

you put your hand on your baby bump, stroking it ever so gently. you swore to yourself that you would never let anyone harm your baby, you would never let this marriage harm your baby, you would never let satoru harm your baby, you never let yourself harm your baby. that's for sure.

because as the clock ticks, time passes. and as the time passes, more tears flow to your cheeks along with blood on your legs.

[part 2 is out now — ©luvvixu2024]

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk satoru #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #fanfic #anime #luvvixu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk angst #angst #gojo satoru angst #satoru angst #satoru x reader

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fancyfeathers · 5 months

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The Moon Will Sing (Yandere Rex Lapis/Zhongli x Goddesses!Reader) (Normalized Yandere AU)

(TW- abandonment, kidnapping, restraints, extreme isolation, semi torture, dehydration, starvation, marking/body modification)

Inspired by this post

There is a story in Liyue about how Rex Lapis, the Lord of Geo and the Goddess of Moonlight fell in love. It is a story known by almost everyone in Liyue, a story parents tell their children before bed, a story couples remember at wedding, asking for the godly couple’s blessing on their marriage. This story is one of the most beloved in all of Liyue, you hear it on the daily as you walk past the families in the streets of Liyue harbor. You hear the children saying of how the story reminds them of their own parents, or how they want a relationship like that one day.

This makes you want to scream…

You want to tell the children the truth, tell the couples that such a blessing would be wicked on their marriage, and you felt terrified when parents would get compared to you and your husband.

Yes you and your husband…

Perhaps we should start this tale from the beginning…

The real story, not the sugared tale this land knows…

In ancient Liyue, in the height of the Guili Assembly, there was two sister goddesses. They were not strong, they were not known to many people of the land, and their power could never even match that of an archon. The two of them made no deals with adepti or gods, had no ties, but with that they had no real enemies. The goddess of moonlight and rain only had her sister, the goddess of sunlight and rainbows, and they didn’t need anyone else. For after the night comes morning, and after the rain is the rainbow.

The two sisters lived in Northern Liyue, watching over a small nameless village. This community was outside the bounds of the Guili Assembly and forgotten by it, almost like the sisters were. So now the sisters have taken mortal forms to walk among the people of the village and protect them, like parents would.

The sister of the sunlight would walk the streets during the day, singing her divine melody to bring light to Liyue. The children loved her, calling her a princess, the adults consulted with her, asking for her guidance. She was welcomed everywhere she went for she was as bright as the sun and able to see the village when it is lively and cast in the beautiful light of the day.

Your life was much different. You lived your sister and you loved your village, but you could never walk the same path they did. Your song was sung by the night, a haunting melody that gave mortals chills. You sang it alone for most of the world dreamed when you walked. The people didn’t fear you to say, well perhaps the children did, they just did not know you. They never got to see your fond smile when you sung under the stars, nor did they see you tending to the fields of glaze lilies in the night, singing to them like you did to bring light to the night. The only time the people got to see you was at dawn when your singing would stop and you would return to you home to sleep the day away, and at dusk when you would come to guide your sister home to rest and you would begin your song as the sun would set.

Which leads you to wear you are now. The sun has just set over Liyue and that means you set out into the grassy fields of your home. This time your brought a basket with you, you wanted to surprise your sister with a gift but even as a goddess you were poor so the only thing you could manage was a flower crown made out of the glaze lilies that bloom under your song of moonlight. You walk through the field, the high grass brushing against your legs. You sing your song as you do, letting the moon and stars grow bright in the night.

“Your voice is very lovely.”

You turn in surprise to see a man dressed in robes of black, brown, and gold, a clear contrast to your dress of purples and blues. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail and his eyes of gold look at you with curiosity. You had never seen this man before, you knew everyone who lived here but not once have you seen him.

“Oh, thank you, sir.” You a say, giving him a smile and a semi bow. “But I am afraid my sister’s voice is much more welcomed by our people than mine.”

“Hm? But why? Your voice is beautiful.” You chuckled at the man’s confusion but your reaction only made him more confused. “Is something funny?”

“No, no, it’s just…” sigh and shake your head, taking a step towards the man so you can get a better look at him underneath your moonlight. He was beautiful, powerful, intimidating, but beautiful. “…you don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Should I?”

“No, I suppose not since you’re clearly not from around this part of Liyue.” You replied, never once breaking eye contact with him like his eyes were drawing you in deeper. “I know that you aren’t because I know everyone here, I have been in this land for hundreds of years now.”

The man stares at you for an even longer moment, looking you up and down, as if trying to read something about you. “You’re a Goddess, are you not?”

“I am… but… um…” you laugh to yourself, your hands fiddling with the woven basket you carry in your nervousness. “…I’m not strong at all, I would be one of the weakest gods. My sister is the strong one between us two but even she’s not very strong either. We might as well be mortals, the only thing we’re good for are our songs but even then no one really cares, I don’t even think Rex Lapis cares we exis- sorry that was disrespectful, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re quite alright, my dear.” He waves you off with a deep chuckle. “Being forgotten by the world when you are meant to be known must be terribly hard.”

“Thank you, I- oh no“ You cut yourself off as you saw the sky grow dark, as if the moon was disappearing into the black sky. “One moment.”

You sucked in a breath and calmed yourself from the startle. You saw the man look at you with a curious look as you turned to face the moon. You raised your voice once more in song, when you did the moon began to glow once more, lighting the land in an ethereal glow. The man’s expression was taken over by pure wonder as you sang, even more so when your song gave the lilies around you light.

“So beautiful….” The man muttered, hearing you sing and seeing the heavenly glow all around you two.

“My domain…” You spoke in response as you finished your song. “Moonlight, not often something people pray for.”

“Maybe one day they will, my dear. I have a feeling they will.”

—————————

The days have passed since that faithful meeting, and the thoughts of the man slipped your mind. You would go out in the night still and sing in that same field, but now it felt as if something was changing, you just could not place it, after all things stayed the same here as they always have been for hundreds of years.

Now you sit in the field of glaze lilies, the flowers closing with the daylight. You could see your sister walking towards you through the field from the village. There was a few children following her but they stopped and fell back when they saw she was walking towards you, you sadly weren’t big with the children despite your love for them. Your sister came up to you and sat at your side.

“Good morning, my dearest (Name).” She said, brushing aside your hair with a wide smile. “You are as beautiful as ever, like the stars above.”

“Like the stars, hm?” You replied, a teasing grin coming across your tired face. “That’s a minor offense to the goddess of moonlight.”

“Oh sush.” Your sister responded, shoving your shoulder playfully. You pushed her back and soon the two of you find yourself tumbling, rolling, down the hill like two little bunnies. The two of you landed on your back, complete laughing messes. You may be goddesses but you two are sisters before that. Soon the two of your laughs calm down and you breathe, looking up at the changing sky. “You know, I wonder what would happen if we were just normal… just sisters…”

Your joyous smile fades into one of melancholy at your sister’s comment. What would be better, being a forgotten goddess or a mortal with dreams to live out? You didn’t know, but you couldn’t decide, you didn’t have a choice. “I wish, but that couldn’t happen.”

“(Name), think about it, it could! We aren’t bound by any contract, we have no ties to Rex Lapis or the other gods and adepti.” Your sister said, sitting up. Then you realize she was serious about this. “We could just leave, go off somewhere else, see the whole world. All we would need to do is sing to keep day and night alight! We have been here for centur-“

“I won’t go.” You cut her off, giving her a firm no. You stood up, dusting off your dress and your sister sat there in shock. “It’s our job to watch over this village, formal or not. We have made our home here and we just can’t abandon out people… I need to go to sleep, goodbye sister.”

“Goodbye (Name).”

…Little did you know that goodbye was forever…

When you set out to bring light to the night, your sister was gone. You asked the villagers if they have seen her before they went off to bed and a few said they spotted her walking off down to stone gate…

She left…

She really left…

The moon and glaze lilies gave no light that night, instead the world was shrouded in darkness and there was no singing only your sobbing. You were the weaker of the sisters, you couldn’t protect the village with out your sister. If something were to happen the village would all be but destroyed. You hugged your knees close as you cried, the petals of the glazed lilies brushing against your skin.

And you did something you had never done as a god…

You prayed…

“Please, Rex Lapis, god of contracts. I know I’m a goddess, but I’m a goddess that has nothing to give but myself. Please don’t let my people be harmed.” You begged, cried, hoping that he would hear you. “I will do anything you ask, just please, guard them when I can’t, I beg of you.”

You didn’t know if he could hear you, but you were absolutely desperate. You lay there in the field of glaze lilies, the blooms hiding from your eyes just like the god hiding from your eyes, watching you from a distance…

Little did you know you had just signed the contract that will turn over your fate…

—————————

Since your sister’s disappearance your people had gotten used to seeing you more often and you had gotten used to sacrificing much of your sleep to watch over the day and night. The people have warmed up to you more, and don’t fear you anymore. But the opposite has happened to your sister, your people talked about her and hated her for abandoning them for abandoning you. You asked them not to talk about her, the topic of her shattered your heart.

You walked through the village streets, helping one of the older residents carry fruit from her recent harvest back to her shop. It was calm, people saying hello to you and children asking if you can play later. Is this what your sister felt like? All this love? You weren’t used to it.

“LADY (NAME)!” You heard someone yell out from behind you, you turn to see one of the younger villagers running towards you at full speed in a complete panic. He gets back to you, breathing and panting and you notice blood pouring down his arm. “Geovishaps… edge of the village…”

Your eyes widen and your dropped the crate. You glanced around till your eyes landed on one of one of the nearby adults. “Get him medical attention now, I’ll deal with this.”

You ran forward where he came from, ignoring the cries and pleading of for you to stay. You sped forward, rushing past all the warnings. They’re outside the village, ruining your field of glaze lilies at least six giant draconic monsters stood. You took your bow and arrow and aimed it at one of the monster’s head, you had killed one before but that was with your sister.

You let the arrow fly and it hit the beast right in the eye. This also caught the attention of both it and its friends. They all turned to look at you and as soon as you heard their roar you knew you were screwed over. But you could run away and give up, you had a duty to protect these people and you would do that till you die on the battlefield. You watched as the monsters rushed towards you, raising one of its large claws ready to bring it down on you. You closed your eyes, waiting for the blow to come…

But it never did…

You opened your eyes to see the beast with a spear stabbed through its head. Your eyes widened as you saw the weirder of it, you have seen him in artwork before,t he white robe, the marks on his arms…

…Rex Lapis…

…The Lord of Geo…

You could only watch as he pulled the polearm from the beast’s head and the monster fell the ground, dead. The dead beast’s companions didn’t waste a moment before running away from the god. He watched them with a cold eye before kneeling down to you…

Then it hit you…

It was that man from that night…

Those things you said…

Oh dear…

“Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you, did they?” He reached down, a hand on you chin, looking over you for any bruise or mark.

“I-I am… alright my lord… thank you.” You stood up with shaky legs, his hands guiding you to stand. “You were there… that night… I said you didn’t care, I am so, so, sorry.”

“Yes, but like I said then, it is quite alright, my dear.” He chuckled, after he helped you up he didn’t let go, even when you tried to step away. “After all we have a contract.”

“W-what? What are you on about?”

“That night, when your sister left, you prayed to me asking to protect your people. Your exact words were you will do anything I ask, as long as I guard them when you cannot.” Your heart sinks at those words, you remember that, between your tears you asked that. “I have made good on my end of the contract…”

“…now there is mine…” You hesitated on your words. What have you done? You should have left with your sister when you had the chance. “What do you want of me?”

“I have been alone for many centuries, I have had many a god and adeptus come into my life but none have truly caught my eye like you did that night when I heard you sing.” He looked at you, not of a gaze of malice or of ill intentions, but that of the one he looked at you with that night when you first met, a look of adoration, of love. “I wish for our contract to be that of marriage.”

There was a long moment of silence, shock, and horror…

“…no”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no.” You repeated, planting your feet into the ground and ripping your arm out of his grasp. “I did not agree to marry you.”

“You said you would do whatever I ask.” The god snapped back as you stepped away from him, his hand squeezing around the polearm in his grasp. “Do you really want to go back on your word to me?”

“I cannot be bound to anyone, my role is to protect those who live in this village, those under my protection. I do not have a duty as someone’s wife, god or mortal” You answered, drawing your bow once more. “That is something I’m willing to fight for.”

“I see…” With that you feel the earth shake beneath your feet and you knew at that very moment you messed up. “Ones who break their contracts shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock."

…and that was it…

…it was over before it begun…

…you stood no chance against the Lord of Geo after all.

—————————

You sat on the hard cold ground, it felt like ice in here despite this cave being carved out by the lord of geo himself. Speaking of the lord of geo, you haven’t seen him since he locked you in here, how long has it been? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? You didn’t know anymore. Your clothing was tattered, you sat here half naked, and that was putting it nicely. You may not need to eat but it was still unpleasant not to, one of the cons of you choosing a mortal form.

That’s not the worse of it, you can forget that when you sleep, escaping to your dreams. The dreams are full of the days where you would lay in the field with your sister and watch over your people in their village. There is only one thing you can’t escape, the constant pain in your body, every time you move the searing pain that rips at your wrists ankles, even in your dreams you can escape that pain, it ruins the happiness you get from those memories.

Chains…

Enchanted chains…

A special gift from Rex Lapis himself…

The chains linked around your wrists and ankles and attached to the floor of the cave. Sure they were long and if it was just that you would be able to pull yourself to the wall to have something to lay against, but it’s never that simple. Every time you move the chains surge geo energy into your body, it feels like you bones are shifting like tectonic plates during an earthquake. Even breathing hurts now, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was due to to the geo energy literally grinding most of your ribs to dust. A mortal would be dead by now, but not you, you just went through the same pain, and it never ended. You could only lay here, on your back, and stare at the same spot on the rock ceiling as dust and dirt collected on your body. But never any water, this place was bone dry, fitting for a place meant to hold the goddess of rain and moonlight.

Then there was the silence, it was maddening. The first few days, or maybe weeks, you sang to break the silence, keep your sanity, but most importantly fulfill your godly duties. But that was Celestia knows how long ago, you could only hope your sister was doing the best she could to watch over the day wherever she was now, because now you could only guess how violent the night has become in your absence. The night was already unsafe, but without the light of the moon, it was deadly.

A soft steps echoing in the cave snapped you out of your thoughts of simply reminding yourself to breathe in an out since it has become such a task. But now there was only one thought in your mind, after all this time he had finally come to see you again in this stone cage he made for you. You could not even turn your head to look at him in fear that your neck would break from the pulses from the chain, nor could you give him one of your usual witty greetings due to your throat being as dry as sand in the Sumeru desert in summer from the lack of water or even moisture in this cave.

You could only see him when he stood right beside your broken body, gazing down at you, but you were to weak to even make out the details of his face. He stared at you for a long time before kneeling down so that he could get a better look at your limp form. You could finally make out his expression, calm as ever, but it was unsettling for you to witness. He was ever so calm as he reached out his clawed hand and ran his finger along your cheek, collecting the dust that had landed on your skin. He looked at the dust on his fingers then back at you, like how you would treat a vase on the shelf you had forgotten to dust off.

“Oh my dear…”

He sighed as he reached down with his hand to graze over your arm, down to the chain that was sealed to your wrist without a lock. Suddenly he gave it a pull which resulted in a bloodcurdling scream ripping from your throat as your felt the surge of geo energy surge from the chain into you arm and your bones began to rub against each other and snap like twigs. As he does this you can feel your arm rapidly repair itself and breaking it again as your limb begins to change, the skin turning black and where you could feel the surges, golden markings begin to form the same one the Geo Archon bares himself.

“It seems perhaps the punishment was too strong for the crime.”

Your body fell limp as the chains disappeared. He reached down and swept you off the ground as your vision faded in and out. You wanted to scream, strangle him, do something, but you couldn’t. Your body is nothing but dust compared to your fellow god.

—————————

“Then from that day on, the Lord of Geo and the Lady of the Moonlight were wed. The Goddess ever so grateful for her husband’s protection of her and her people during the perils of the Archon War. And now it is said that when ever one hears the Goddess’s song of moonlight, they will hear a love song to her husband.”

You rolled your eyes at the “historian’s” tale. What a load of lies. You could say what really happened, but no one would believe you, a seemingly mortal woman. You could tell them that his protection was him locking you away underground for five centuries as punishment for trying to break the contract. Tell them how when you returned to the surface there was nothing left of the Liyue you knew…

…Well almost…

Your “husband” was kind enough to keep his end of the contract still and leave that village standing which is now known as Qingce Village, you visit there occasionally but no one is left to remember you. All that is left there are the stories of the sister goddesses who once protected the village, one of them running away never to be seen or mentioned by name again, and the other who protected the village dutifully with the “help” of her husband, Rex Lapis.

At least there was one accurate bit in your so called perfect love story, your only good memory of your husband before all this. That fated night when you met in the field of glaze lilies, when your mind and body were still innocent to the God of Contracts.

You rolled your eyes at the sound of applause for the historian, it hurt to hear how people romanticized your life and relationships. You couldn’t do anything but bitterly walk away, going back to to your husband who was standing at the edge of the crowd listening. Much has changed since those days, for your husband no longer went by Rex Lapis, rather Zhongli. He also wasn’t so cruel to you anymore, not after the chains. You suspected this was due to how he felt seeing you like that, not about all the pain you were in, that was just your deserved punishment.

“That was a nostalgic story, was it not, my dear?” Your husband asked as he interlocked your arm with his and walked through the crowd.

“That an interesting word to use for it.” You remarked as you watched the people of Liyue Harbor go about their day to day lives. “From what I recall, you left me in that cave for five hundred years, unless they just got the words comfort and chains confused because you did not come to see me once.”

“Well my love…” He reached his hand down to yours, running patterns over where the his markings are branded into your skin are, hidden under your glove. “…History will change to give a pleasing narrative, that is something we cannot even change.”

That was rich coming from him, the man who will correct historians on any other story but this one…

This historian said you sing a love song but truth it’s the opposite, a song of mourning for the life that was taken from you, but not that you can say anything…

…there is a silent truth that everyone knows…

…history is written by the victors.

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli #yandere zhongli x

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fettuccinealfred0 · 5 months

Text

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 4

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 7.6k

(CW: general vampirism, very light descriptions of injury)

Summary:

Astarion’s cold hand reaches out to catch your own as you move to drop it back to your side and he presses your palm against his cheek. His skin is like silk and you can hardly stop yourself from softly running your thumb over his beautiful cheekbone.

He leans in closer, lips just a breath away from yours. You hope he will lean down and kiss you. That he will wrap you in his arms and never let you go. You close your eyes and tilt your head up in anticipation.

Instead, you feel him pull away, your hand dropping limply back to your side. It stings your heart.

“Sleep well, wife,” Astarion says, before he’s turning on his heel and walking swiftly down the hallway.

Read on ao3 here

“What are you reading?” Astarion asks, flopping himself onto the settee next to you.

You lift the book up so he can see the cover. Bram Stroker’s Dracula. “I’m doing research on vampires.”

“Very funny,” Astarion says with a sour face. It makes you giggle as you turn back to your book.

Astarion watches you for a moment before he lets out a frustrated huff that you know is meant to draw your attention back to him.

“Why are you spending all your time surrounded by dusty old books when you could ask me, a real vampire?” He does a self-important flourish with his hand that causes you to snort out another laugh.

It seems too harsh to say ‘because I still don’t know if I can trust a word that comes out of your mouth.’ And really, you do mostly trust him now. You just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something bigger going on around here.

You see Astarion whispering with Shadowheart and Gale in dark corners. You see the weird visitors- the giant, friendly woman, the stern looking warrior-woman, and the man with two different colored eyes- that Astarion always immediately rushes into his study. You had tried listening at the door the last time they came, but you still couldn’t hear anything.

Astarion couldn’t necessarily be called paranoid because, yeah, you were listening at the door. But to be fair, his actions were definitely suspicious. And what were you supposed to do- not try to solve this puzzle which had so wonderfully presented itself to you?

“Come, little flower, ask me anything. I promise there’s plenty of juicy details that are far too scandalous for your books to mention,” Astarion lightly pulls your attention back to him when he notices you chewing on your lip as you think.

He’s hooked you there and he knows it- you never could resist the opportunity to indulge your curiosity. You curl up your feet so Astarion can settle more comfortably next to you and he slings his arm over the back of the settee. Perhaps you imagined it, but you could swear you caught his eyes darting down to your bare calf when you shifted, before you could adjust your skirts to cover yourself.

“What happens if you come into contact with garlic?”

“Aside from bad breath?” Astarion wrinkles his nose. “It’s not deadly or anything, it just reeks. No sane vampire would ever go near the stuff.”

“What about silver?”

“A very pretty metal, though I’m partial to gold,” He answers, gesturing down to his waistcoat, which is made of a shimmery golden silk with swirling floral patterns. Your husband never was one for minimalism.

“What about running water?” You ask, practically having to rip your eyes away from his waistcoat. For under his waistcoat, lay his chest. And the idea of that lovely expanse of alabaster skin had quickly become an image which plagued you in the dark of night.

“Should I be growing concerned about this line of questioning? You seem to only want to know about things that can harm me. I thought your questions would be much more fun.”

You smirk at him. “Please. If I wanted to hurt you, I already would have.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that at all, you feisty little devil,” Astarion says with a wicked grin. His red eyes flicker dangerously, like fire. “As for running water- I do love a bath. Though, it would be all the more delightful if you decided to join me. I could make it… very worth your while.”

His eyes rake over you and you struggle in vain to ignore the familiar flames of heat licking at your cheeks. You can’t decide if the cause is embarrassment or arousal, or both.

“Do you remember what color your eyes were?” You ask, figuring you’ve teased him enough with your initial questions.. Astarion looks genuinely shocked for a moment before his forehead creases a bit. “You know, I’m not sure I do. It’s been so long.”

“How long?” you ask cautiously, like you’re approaching a wild animal. You expect him to skitter away at this line of questioning. Astarion doesn’t like deeply personal questions. He likes wordplay and teasing and, occasionally, dropping the odd fact about himself if you listened closely enough.

“A couple hundred years,” he answers. It breaks your heart to hear that. To know he’s spent so long like this. He couldn’t have been older than his thirties when he was turned, which means he had been a vampire many lifetimes longer than he was alive. Does he even remember what it was like?

“I think they were gray. Or maybe green?” Astarion is still thinking, lost in his own little world. He sits for another moment. “Whatever. You have to admit that the red suits me, doesn’t it, darling?”

He shoots you a wink, said red eyes glinting playfully. You almost have whiplash from how quickly he was able to fall back into his flirtatious performance. By now, you have spent enough time with Astarion to know this act is what he reverts back to when he wants to reestablish control in a conversation, when he wants to stop himself from settling into uncomfortable emotions.

“Your eyes were blue,” you tell him and he looks at you warily. “I ran across the portrait of your family one day. You looked so much like your mother.”

You don’t tell him of all the hours you had spent studying the painting, turning the image over and over in your mind trying to figure out how this piece fit into the puzzle.

“Why would you tell me that?”

And to your surprise, he’s angry at your words. You note this reaction in your mind- that bringing up his past will warrant anger and leave you without any useful information.

“So you could reclaim a part of yourself that was either stolen from you or that you forgot,” you say softly. Astarion’s eyebrows bunch together and he looks deep in thought. It’s making the room too heavy, his thoughts seem too dark.

“How were you turned?” You ask, trying to distract him while also trying to get more of your questions answered.

When he speaks, his tone seems too measured, too rehearsed. “Someone is turned when a vampire drains them dry and buries their body. It’s a rite of passage to dig yourself out of your grave. Of course, the body has to be buried almost immediately or the ritual won’t work and the person will just be dead. It’s a… delicate balance.”

He technically did answer your question, but the story of his turning is noticeably missing.

“Have you ever turned someone?”

“No, I didn’t have that ability for a long time. And now, I don’t really care to.” He’s trying to feign nonchalance, but you see the way his fist is clenched so tightly in his lap that his nails are digging painfully into his palms. He’s hiding something.

“But you’re a vampire?” Your own brow furrows in confusion, because it doesn’t make sense that he would be a vampire but not be able to turn someone.

“Am I?” Astarion asks sarcastically, examining his skin. “I hadn’t noticed. Thank you for that astute observation.”

You nudge him with your foot. “You know what I meant.”

“Yes, but it’s just so fun to tease you, pet. I simply can’t resist.”

He’s trying to get himself out of this line of questioning by baiting you with teasing. But the way he’s still holding his shoulders so tightly, you know there’s still valuable information to be gained.

“So, you’re not a ‘real’ vampire?” you ask again, trying to coax him back on track.

“Now I am.” Astarion takes a deep breath in and out. “For a long time, I was just a vampire spawn.”

“How’s that any different?” You had read a bit about vampires and vampire spawn while doing your vampire research in the library, but the accounts were so varied that it was hard to discern what was true or false. From what you could gather, a vampire spawn serves a vampire lord. And it is rather strange that Astarion doesn’t seem to have any running around the manor.

Astarion is still quiet, so you rephrase the question. “What’s the story behind how you were turned, then?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” Astarion finally snaps, shooting you a glare.

“You said I could ask you anything.” You remind him, sure to keep your tone calm and measured.

“I said you could ask, I didn’t say that I would answer,” he says through gritted teeth. He’s so tense, jaw tight and shoulders nearly up to his ears.

You pout and he softens a bit, lowering his arm from the back of the settee to graze his fingertips gently over the back of your hand.

“There are some stories that only serve to harm when they are told, little flower,” he says quietly and the pained look on his face sends a twinge to your heart that makes you drop the subject entirely.

In moments like this, you must remind yourself that his beauty is a shield- a defense mechanism meant to amplify his pain and provoke a response from you. Even though you are aware of this, the way Astarion looks when he’s in pain has you nearly falling to your knees and begging forgiveness for ever daring to hurt him..

“What happens if you drink the blood of someone who’s drunk?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood after the heavy turn.

You know he’ll welcome a silly question like that. And the radiant smile that lights up Astarion’s face is worth dropping your real line of question. You could ask another time. Right now, you would do just about anything to keep him smiling like this in front of you.

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask! You can get drunk from them, but you have to drink a lot and the effects fade far too quickly. I much prefer wine for a quick buzz.”

“Makes sense with that cellar I found downstairs,” you tease. Though, cellar was a bit of an understatement. Grand network of caverns filled with more wine than you could ever conceive of existing was a more apt description.

“Darling, you should know by now that I collect and cherish the things I enjoy,” Astarion says in a deep, husky voice, eyes looking up at you sinfully from underneath his pale lashes.

The image of him cherishing you fills your mind and sets your face aflame. It would be so easy for his hand to reach out, to tilt your chin up and present your face to his. All he would have to do is lean over, just a little bit closer, and his pretty pink lips would press against yours. They would be soft and cool against your burning skin.

No. Stay focused. This was the time for getting some much needed answers out of Astarion, not the time for silly romantic fantasies.

“Do you like being a vampire?” you ask after clearing your throat. You take great care to keep your voice as calm as possible, afraid you might again be leading Astarion into tumultuous waters.

Astarion takes a moment before he speaks and you can watch his thoughts play out on his face. The slight frown when he first processes your question, the way his eyes dart around the room as if he will think up some witty response to distract you, the gentle furrow in his brow as he tries to think of a genuine response.

“I honestly don’t know how to answer that.” He’s trying hard to keep his own voice measured and controlled when he speaks. “It’s… complicated. I certainly don’t regret being turned. Not anymore, at least.”

Not anymore. So, he did regret being turned at some point. But why? What horrors has he witnessed that were so unspeakable? Was his turning really that traumatic?

Perhaps he had been in a war? You had read many stories that portrayed war as the worst of what humanity could do to one another. But no, that’s ridiculous. Astarion is nobility, he practiced law. And Astarion isn’t the type to involve himself in other’s petty squabbles, anyway.

But the faraway, pained look in Astarion’s eye has you thinking that whatever he had suffered must have been akin to the worst of war.

“Would you ever want to be a vampire?” He surprises you by turning the question back on you. You curl your arms around your knees, pulling them closer to your chest. Your reaction isn’t an immediate no, which surprises you a bit.

“I don’t know. Depends on the circumstances, I think,” you tell him.

What you really mean is that it depends on if eternity would look like this. If eternity would involve reading in the gardens or Astarion and you sitting next to each other on a settee and talking. Those might be terms you could agree to.

“I think I would really miss the sunlight,” you give Astarion a sad smile.

No sunlight means no gardens during the day, no talking strolls in the forest, no swimming in a river and sunbathing on a rock to dry yourself off. The life of a vampire is cold and dark and lonely. Only, maybe it wouldn’t be quite so lonely for you?

“A small price to pay for eternal life,” Astarion says with what you have come to understand is his hollow performance voice. Meant to dazzle an audience and distract people from the fact that his real feelings contradict what he is saying.

You watch him carefully as he settles deeper into the couch, crossing his arms over his chest and attempting to tamper whatever melancholy had been brewing inside him.

“Come on then, darling, read to me,” he says, giving you a wicked grin, “I can tell you what they got wrong in your little book.”

You read aloud and Astarion chimes in with little quips like ‘that’s not right,’ and ‘what do you think about me taking two more brides like this Dracula fellow, pet?’ and ‘good gods, just skip over the parts about Renfield, he’s a disgusting, pathetic character.’

But as you continue to read, Astarion slowly lets his head rest against the back of the couch and his eyes grow heavy before they eventually fall closed. The frequency of his interruptions slows until he’s just giving little hums of acknowledgement when you read something especially shocking or profound.

When you make it over two pages without a single interruption, you pause to look over at him. His deep, even breaths lead you to think he might have fallen asleep. With a smile, you turn back to the book and keep reading, perfectly content to never let this moment end, even if the number of remaining pages was starting to dwindle.

—---------

The longer you spent around Astarion, the more you realize that he did occasionally sprinkle the truth into his words- for even the best charlatans use truth to make their facades seem more real. Astarion wasn’t unique in that regard.

As such, you were determined to find the flakes of truth in Astarion’s story, determined to piece together the puzzle of the man you called your husband. It would be your most challenging and most rewarding prize yet.

So, you study him. You watch and you learn every tiny expression on his face. Astarion might be a masterful performer, but there were involuntary reactions even he could not control- a slight furrow of the brow, an inhale, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. And sometimes, there were flashes of something in his eyes- joy, wonder, terror, despair- so quick that a lesser trained eye might have missed them completely.

You notice these details because they are important to your cause. And yet, they stick around in your head for hours, repeating like some terribly wonderful time loop.

And you find yourself craving his company. You tell yourself that it’s not because you particularly enjoy his presence, but because every interaction gives you more information, gets you one step closer to discovering the truth beneath the mask. And yes, he was beautiful and wonderful to look at, but you only gazed upon him so often because you were collecting valuable data.

Though… it was remarkable how he seemingly had no bad angles. How the candlelight bent to his whim, following him around and dancing against his skin.

And gods damn him, Astarion can be funny, when he wants to be. He’s well-read and full of little tales and salacious secrets about the other nobles and their ancestors. In another life, you would have thought the gods crafted him especially for you- your perfect conversation partner.

Although Astarion will never love you, never desire you in the way that you secretly know you will always want him, you think he has come to find some enjoyment in your companionship, too. Some of his smiles seem a bit too real, some of his laughs a little too wild to be rehearsed. You imagine he regards you as a sort of… pet. Or, if you really dare to dream, perhaps a friend.

You must constantly remind yourself that his flirtations are empty, practiced phrases that are meant to disarm you. They do not show you he cares for you or that he wants you. You try to ignore that deep, viscous part of you that calls out to him, that wants him to think of you fondly, that hopes that you are driving him as mad with your presence as he drives you.

Over the past month, you’ve become semi-nocturnal. You find Astarion is much more active once the sun has gone down and the later you stay awake, the more time you get to spend with him. It’s unsettling how naturally your life seems to shift to accommodate him.

When you do make your way out to the garden in the late afternoons, Halsin happily congratulates you in his friendly, over-the-top way on the state of your marriage and how you and Astarion have managed to grow together despite your initial difficulties. You know he means it sincerely, but the words leave you a stuttering, embarrassed mess. You didn’t think you were being so obvious about your growing… affection for Astarion.

So, you start reading in the library more often than the garden, now that the air has started to turn crisp in the autumn nights.

Or at least, you’ve convinced yourself that’s the reason why and not because you secretly hope that Astarion will come join you.

And he does join you, some days. He’ll stride in with a book or some papers and take up residence on the couch across from you. On the really good days, he’ll sit on the couch beside you and ask you to read aloud and you get to lean against him while you read to him.

Tonight, he decided to accompany you to the library after dinner. He’s sitting in a chair across from your favorite settee and he’s only wearing a flowing white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You keep sneaking peeks up at him, mesmerized by the blue veins in his arms and how the lean muscles move when he turns a page. You’re trying really hard to be subtle- only letting yourself glance up for a moment every couple of minutes.

But, gods, it’s so difficult to focus on the words in front of you with that expanse of skin teasing you.

“You haven’t turned a page in a very long time, darling,” Astarion says without even looking up from his own book.

“And how attentive are you to your own reading if you’ve been listening for me to turn the page?” You shoot back.

“Oh, I’ve been finished for ages. I just couldn’t stand to leave you.” He gives you that devilish, tantalizing grin where one corner of his mouth curves up more than the other. It sends your heart fluttering like a hummingbird in your chest.

“Well,” you sigh, shutting your book and attempting to act casual, as if your formerly self-declared enemy hadn’t just caught you gawking at his forearms. “I suppose I’m not going to get any more of this finished tonight.”

“I apologize, I know my presence is entirely too distracting,” Astarion says, and the arrogant look on his face makes you roll your eyes. He’s not wrong, but he'd be entirely too pleased with himself the rest of the evening if you admitted it out loud.

“Yes, how does anyone get anything done with you around?” you say sarcastically instead.

“I haven’t the faintest idea how,” Astarion lets out a suffering sigh, as if his beauty is too much for the world to handle (it is). You can’t let yourself think about it too long or you’ll devolve in idle fantasies about what it might feel like to trace those beautiful veins in his arms all the way up to his chest.

You snap your book shut, “Want to join me on a walk around the gardens?”

You need to get out of here, where the stifling air and Astarion’s flowy white shirt are clouding your mind. But you don’t want this night to end yet. Not just yet. In truth, you gladly and greedily take as much time as Astarion’s willing to give you.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be in the world.”

He says it with that easy, flirtatious tone and you know he probably doesn’t really mean it. But that deep part of you that feeds on Astarion’s praise still preens.

The cool air is refreshing when you step outside and your head finally begins to clear. Astarion holds his arm out for you and you let your fingers brush against the skin of his forearm as you tuck yourself into his side.

When you turn to look at him, he’s practically luminescent. The moonlight was made for him, bouncing off his white curls and casting a gentle glow over his pale skin. As the moon reflected the sun’s light, Astarion seemed to reflect the moon’s. You were simply lucky to bask in his presence.

Arm in arm, you wander through the garden, pointing out your favorite flowers to Astarion and checking in on the blooms. It’s reached that part of autumn where some perennials have started to sleep, ready to reawaken in the spring. The sunflowers, always one of your favorites, are drooping for the night, waiting to chase after the sun again tomorrow, and you frown a bit when you see them.

“It’s a shame you never get to see the gardens during the day. The colors, the blooming flowers. It’s truly one of the most remarkable things I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say, as you and Astarion move into the rose garden. Everything new you find out about vampirism makes it sound like an isolating, dreary existence. You make a mental note that Astarion could use some cut flowers in his study every now and then, though it feels like a poor substitute for the splendor of the full gardens.

Because it is your mission to study Astarion, you don’t miss the fleeting, pained look that passes over his face, the look he always gets when you dig a bit too close to a truth he’d rather keep buried.

You used to push him on these, but you quickly found that got you nowhere. No, Astarion responded far better to a gentle touch rather than provocation and name calling. You were coming to realize that he would tell you in time, in his own way. And you had started to find that you didn’t mind waiting for answers if it kept you in his company that much longer.

And oh, how rewarding those answers were when he gifted them to you in the dark of the night, offering up little pieces of himself like Tara delivering you a dead mouse.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be prattling on- '' you try to backtrack, to apologize for the sadness that you have caused to enter his eyes.

You sometimes wonder what his eyes would look like if they were still blue- would they be pale blue like soft ocean waves or rich and deep like the blue flowers in the garden?

With his red eyes in front of you, his sadness is akin to pain, all blood and gore and unspoken horrors. No, you decide, if Astarion had blue eyes they must look like dark rain clouds when he is sad. For if Astarion weeped, would the heavens themselves not cry for him?

“Nonsense,” Astarion cuts you off and you’re acutely aware of how your husband has been studying you just as intently as you were watching him. Admittedly, the two of you were remarkably similar underneath it all. All sharp teeth and claws masking scared and fragile hearts.

He gives your hand a little squeeze where it rests on his forearm. “It’s wonderful to see the world through your eyes.”

He says it so casually, like he hasn’t caused your knees to buckle and your soul to leave your body. Occasionally, he slips in sentiments like that, with no regard for your poor heart. You’re dangerously close to having hope that he actually means them.

But no, you remind yourself. There was no way Astarion’s words could be trusted. He said things, he did things to get a reaction out of you because he grew bored and because he knew how badly you wanted him, how badly everyone wanted him. There was no reason to hope. He had entertained you at the ball because he was hungry, he had married you to tie up loose ends, and he spent time with you now because he had very little other company up here in his lonely manor.

You do not mean as much to him as he does to you.

You distract yourself from that thought spiral by talking, amazed at how easy and willing you are to offer up information to him now, “I used to have a book with flowers drawn in it as a little girl that I would stare at all day. There were so many that I’d never thought I’d get to see in real life, until I came here. And there were some flowers that I didn’t even know existed until I saw them here for the first time. These gardens are everything I could have ever dreamed of.”

Astarion gives you a smile that lights up his whole face and he seems so proud, like the whole purpose of his life is to make you happy. Your heart sings again and you shush her immediately.

Astarion’s beauty was not something you would ever grow used to. And in the lighting tonight, his profile sent a cold shock through your body. You had never felt so alive. You had never yearned for death more.

“My mother used to love the gardens here. She used to always try to get me to help her plant things. I wish…” He trails off, reaching out to stroke a delicate rose petal with his fingers. “Well, I wish I would have appreciated that more when I was younger. You never realize as a child how precious those memories will one day become.”

“And I wish you could have seen it then,” he says, letting out a wistful sigh. “You would have loved it. The gardens were even grander and more vast than what they are now. When I returned, they were in such disrepair that it pained me to look at them for ages. I hired Halsin to help restore them and he did a wonderful job, of course, but it’s just…”

He continues to stare at the flower he holds in his hand, unable to find the words to finish his sentence.

“Not the same?” you complete the thought for him and he nods.

And although his words fill you with a deep sadness, you rejoice for a moment. Astarion offers up information about himself so rarely that his words tonight are practically a feast. You tuck away that little piece of his backstory in your mind to analyze later. Though, as usual, he leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where had he returned from? Where was it that he had spent most of his vampiric life? And you still don’t know the circumstances of how he was turned into a vampire or how that plays into creating the man standing before you.

You let your fingers rub in circles against his forearm as you think.

Astarion’s rests his hand over yours. “Your hands are cold, little flower. And we both know a pretty thing like you blooms better in the daytime. I think it’s time to get you back inside.”

You try to protest but a yawn escapes you and Astarion gives you a knowing look that forces you to roll your eyes and allow him to start guiding you back toward the manor. His footsteps are slow, as if he’s trying to prolong your time together.

“Thank you, Astarion,” you say quietly, when you reach your room.

Facing him, the low, flowing neckline on his shirt has the lines of his collarbone perfectly in your sight and you’re scared you won’t be able to resist reaching out and touching them if you have to look at that for much longer.

Astarion seems unable to resist touching you, either, and his hand reaches out to tug on the chain of your necklace which holds your wedding ring. It must have snaked its way out from under the collar of your dress at some point during the night. He rolls the gold band between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

“You’re wearing your ring,” Astarion states the obvious, his voice low and husky with some emotion you can’t decipher.

“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not embarrassing, per say, but it does feel a bit like Astarion has broken his way past your ribcage and is staring directly at your beating heart.

“When did you start doing that?”

He tilts his head and one, single white curl dislodges itself from his meticulously styled hair. You watch it fall gently, like a feather floating through the air.

“About a week after…” you trail off. It was still weird to admit it out loud. About a week after you were married. It had been a couple months since that day and everything after has felt like a feverish dream.

You can’t focus when Astarion is looking at you like this- eyes all warm and rich and red like the fading embers of a fire. And the loose curl that caresses the skin of his ear is just taunting you so sweetly. Your hand moves almost of its own accord, reaching out to brush it back into place and ghosting over the shell of Astarion’s ear. You catch his slight shiver.

Instead, you feel him pull away, your hand dropping limply back to your side. It stings your heart.

“Sleep well, wife,” Astarion says, before he’s turning on his heel and walking swiftly down the hallway.

Wife.

He called you that so rarely and combined with the rosemary and bergamot lingering in the air after him, you feel a bit dizzy.

Oh, it’s the first time he’s called you that without a hint of teasing or sarcasm. No, tonight he said it almost with reverence- as if you were a gift to him. He had said it like a true husband might. That silly sense of hope thrums again in your veins.

But hope for what? That this marriage built on deception and hatred might turn itself around into something based in love? You chastise yourself for feeding into girlish fantasies. You needed to stop reading so many romance books.

No, you were just relieved that Astarion and you had managed to grow into something that could be considered a friendship. That he respected you enough to give you back the control that so many husbands wielded viciously over their wives. You were content since you were safe, and never pressured into uncomfortable circumstances, and spent your days doing whatever you wished.

You did not really want Astarion to kiss you.

It is the baser, lonely part of you that wants him to kiss you, that wants to hold him, that cries out for his touch. You would want to kiss anyone after taking a midnight stroll in a romantic garden. Astarion just happened to make it especially confusing by being the most beautiful man in the world.

And yet, you still yearn for his attention, you long for his smiles like a flower chases after the sun. And was his smile not capable of rivaling the sun? The pure joy, the pure energy surging beneath the surface.

No, when Astarion smiled, the sun itself bowed her head in surrender to his beauty.

—------------------

Gale might have been right, though you were loath to admit it.

You really did have a hard time sitting still for your portrait. It was only a couple hours each day in the afternoon, but all the sitting and doing nothing felt like torture. You could have done it if you had been allowed a book, but the stupid artist needed to be able to see your stupid face.

On the second afternoon, Astarion wanders in, inspecting the painting critically, eyes narrowed and a hand held up to his chin as he scrutinizes it.

“The shade of her eyes is all wrong,” he finally says with a displeased frown.

“I’m sorry, my lord, the painting isn’t finished yet.” The artist attempts to defend himself but you can tell he quickly sets to work correcting the ‘mistake.’

Astarion comes in the next day, and the next, and the next and just watches over the artist’s shoulder. The poor man is sweating so bad he’s creating a small puddle on the floor. It’s rather amusing. You have to refrain from laughing the whole time.

The man can’t seem to be able to paint a single detail without Astarion critiquing his choices and giving corrections. It’s a flurry of ‘see how her mouth moves up in the corner when she smiles,’ and ‘no, look again at how the candlelight moves against her skin,’ and ‘her hair doesn’t curl around her face like that, you’ve made her look like a poodle.’

You’ve come to think that Gale was wrong and perhaps Astarion is the worst kind of fine art snob who believes they could do everything better than the actual artists. And granted, he probably could- Astarion was also the annoying type of person who was preternaturally gifted at everything they tried.

When Astarion finally deigns the painting satisfactory after many, many days of nit-picking, you’re allowed to see the final product. It truly is a marvelous piece. You are sure you have never looked more beautiful- not even at the ball where you met Astarion or on your wedding night. No, in this painting, you can only be described as ethereal, a small scrap of the heavens that created Astarion.

It feels as if you are seeing yourself anew, through the eyes of someone who loves you.

“I expect nothing less than perfection when it comes to you, my love,” Astarion says, a gentle hand on your waist as he stands behind you and keenly observes your reaction.

But the painting is not what has pulled the air from your lungs.

My Love.

That's new. In your time as a married woman, you had grown accustomed to the endearments that Astarion loved to dole out and had deciphered his uses for each. He seemed to have a personal vendetta against calling you by your name.

Darling was for emphasis and dramatic effect. Dearest was a bit sarcastic and typically saved for use around others. Pet was for when he really wanted to be a condescending asshole or a teasing little shit.

Little flower was perhaps the closest thing to a real endearment that Astarion had in his vocabulary, saved for the soft moments when the mood between the two of you could perhaps be considered friendly.

But my love was unprecedented, uncharted territory.

And with the way Astarion is looking at you, with eyes so open that his soul is practically bleeding out of them, you wonder if for the first time he actually means what he is saying. That maybe some part of his heart does hold affection for you. It seems impossible.

He spends the rest of the evening peppering darlings and my dears in nearly every sentence, like he’s overcompensating for the slip up earlier.

Your portrait is hung next to his in the gallery. And you do have to admit that the two of you look wonderful together.

—----------------------

You don’t like when Astarion leaves on trips. Especially since he never wants to take you with him. Apparently, you had annoyed Astarion so much about the issue that he now resorted to not even telling you when he was going to leave.

Instead, you awoke one afternoon to Shadowheart informing you that he was away on business for the next few days. You’re fairly certain he’s lying- that whatever he’s out doing involved those maps and papers you found on his desk when you had broken into his study.

You’re a bit peeved that he didn’t even bother to leave you a goodbye note but mostly, you want him to come back.

You know he will arrive home with a flourish and an extravagant gift. His last trips had awarded you with a lovely new silk dress, a newly released book, and a tiara, of all things. Out of the three, the book was the only item that was really useful and you had spent a few nights reading it to Astarion while his head rested in your lap. Though, you did wear the dress and tiara to dinner after you had received each and the pleased mood it put Astarion in was worth dressing up for no reason.

This time, Astarion has been gone for two days and you feel as if you are going to lose your mind with how desperately you need him to come back.

You’re pacing the length of the drawing room, working your lip between your teeth and focusing on how you want Astarion back so you can yell at him for leaving without telling you and not because you miss the little grins he gives you when you see him in the hallway. Or the way he’s started tracing patterns on the inside of your palm when you sit together after you read. Or how he sometimes stares at you with such awe you feel as though he is looking at your very soul.

You do not miss Astarion. It just… feels wrong when he isn’t around.

You’re still pacing and deeply rationalizing how much you definitely do not miss him when you hear the front door open. Your body begins moving before your brain could even register what you were doing.

The sight before you is a nightmare. Astarion’s arm is wrapped around a woman’s shoulder and she’s supporting most of his weight as she drags him through the door. You recognize her instantly due to her imposing frame. You had seen her around the manor from time to time when she would visit for those secret meetings that she, and the mean-looking woman, and two-color eyed man had with Astarion.

She had always been kind to you when you had seen her around, always quick to offer up a smile. But not now. Her forehead is creased deeply with worry and you faintly register her yelling for help over the ringing in your ears.

Astarion looks bad, which is a word you never thought could be used to describe him. His skin is already so pale, but now, he looks nearly white and there’s blood splattered across his face. His free hand is clutching at his side in a way that implies he’s been badly wounded.

You’re frozen in fear. What could you possibly do to help?

Shadowheart, who must have been on her way to bring you tea as you paced, immediately shoves the tray onto the first surface she can find.

“What happened?” Her voice is grim and she’s rushing forward, helping to support Astarion’s weight on the other side. He lets out a pitiful groan of pain as they settle him on a couch.

“Got ambushed on the way back. Too many of them, we couldn’t fight them off,” the tall woman answers.

But her explanation seems… off. Astarion’s carriage is grand, sure, and robbers like to target the wealthy, especially in the dead of night. But you had a hard time believing this woman would be incapable of fighting off a couple street thugs. An attack that would warrant this level of injury seems much more organized.

No. Something else is going on. What sort of business was Astarion tangled up in?

Shadowheart is a blur as she bustles around, collecting herbs, cloth bandages, and a needle and thread. You never knew she was a healer. Was everyone around here keeping secrets from you?

And you’re just standing there, uselessly, incapable of doing anything other than watch as your own heart bleeds out in front of you.

Your feet do manage to carry you to Astarion’s side and you try to stay out of Shadowheart’s way as she works, but all you want right now is to pull him into your arms and soothe the pain on his face.

“Astarion?” you call his name, your shaky hand reaching out to move a stray curl away from his face. It looks all wrong- his white hair drenched with red blood. His eyes crack open and a dreamy smile spreads across his face when he sees you.

“Come to grace your dying husband with a kiss, sweet wife?” Astarion’s eyes are hazy, but you can still detect a teasing sparkle in them. You’re relieved for a moment, because his condition surely can’t be that bad if he’s still managing to tease you.

You let out a laugh. “Leave it to you to be flirting on your deathbed.”

Shadowheart’s worried voice breaks you out of your momentary comfort. “He needs blood, desperately.”

“We need to get someone from the village,” you say, making a motion to get up and go call for someone, but Astarion’s hand is wrapping gently around your wrist. His grip is worryingly loose and you can tell it’s all the strength he’s able to muster right now.

“Not enough time,” Shadowheart shakes her head. Her voice is fraught with anxiety and it sends a needle of ice through you. Shadowheart didn’t scare easily. “He needs blood now.”

“Can you?” you ask and she shakes her head again.

“My blood’s no good and neither is Karlach’s,” Shadowheart nods her chin up at the tall woman.

“Is there anyone here who can give him blood?” You cry out. Someone had to be able to help- Gale, Halsin, another servant.

“Just you.”

When you look down at Astarion, there’s a cold hand squeezing at your heart and you realize that you don’t have a choice. You grab the dagger that’s strapped to Astarion’s belt- which, why did he have a dagger if he was going on a normal business trip? You glide the sharp edge along your palm, ignoring the sting of pain as you cut it open.

His eyes are closed as you squeeze your palm shut to help the blood pool and drip onto his lips. Almost immediately, his eyes are shooting open and he’s dragging your palm to his mouth.

It’s obscene to watch him- he lets out a groan as his soft tongue swirls and sucks against your skin. In another time, in another circumstance, there would be that familiar desire pooling deep within you as you watched him.

Suddenly, the idea of Astarion drinking anyone else’s blood ever again fills you with a jealousy so deep that you’re scared of what you might do if you get your hands on that unlucky soul.

A bit of color returns to his face and he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your wrist, seemingly as thanks. Later that night, as you sit at his bedside as he recovers, you’ll be pressing your own lips to the same spot, as if that silly act could imitate the feel of his lips against your own.

Astarion’s eyes are still hazy and unfocused as he purrs, “Delicious, of course. I can only think of one other way I could devour you that would be better than that.”

The fact that he loses consciousness immediately after saying that probably has the opposite effect than he intended. You’ll have to tease him about that after he wakes up. And he will wake up. Because you can’t bear with the thought of a life without him.

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

Notes:

Okay, I fully recognize that Dracula didn't come out until 1897 and I did say this was a regency AU, but we are simply ignoring inconvenient facts for the sake of a bad joke. Sorry, I get make to the rules around here!

This chapter was so much fun to write because I'm a slut for yearning but I can't even describe how excited I am to share chapter 5 next week!!!!!! It's a doozy! We finally get a peak into Astarion's smooth little brain and well… I did promise eventual smut. I hope you all know how much I appreciate everyone who reads this little story and I hope everyone is having as much fun with this as I am!

As always, thanks to AliensNSuch on ao3 for beta-reading! She is my live studio audience cheering in the comments of the absurdly long google doc where I keep this fic and, for that, I love her.

Taglist: @idkbrodontaskme @ayselluna @maruichio @fanfic-share

Just let me know in the comments or by shooting me a message if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist!

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #x reader #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #til death do us part

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pix3lplays · 6 months

Note

can i request argenti x reader arranged marriage au? :D thank youuu ehehe

Of course! Thanks to @yarnnerdally for giving me a starting point!

Cw! Sharing a bed and stuff, nothing super suggestive

-Argenti: Arranged Marriage-

This man would commit himself to an arranged marriage if it meant saving lives. Imagine. Your planet is on the brink of collapse. Their relations with the Knights of Beauty is…Shaky at best…so you really have no choice but to agree to enter an arranged marriage so the Knights will agree to try and save your planet. Argenti isn’t afraid to volunteer, people’s LIVES are on the line, and if he doesn’t like you…it doesn’t matter. It’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. He meets you. The royal representative of your home planet. You exchange pleasantries. And you already have this FEELING about him. Your knight in shining armor…Argenti. He introduced himself by getting on one knee and kissing your hand, calling himself the Knight of Beauty that was here to be your husband, and that he’d vow to stay by your side until the bitter end. And that he was quite happy to make the acquaintance of a beautiful soul like yourself. AND that he apologized that you must be arranged into marrying him, but he would do what he could to make you happy.

You learn pretty quickly that your new husband is a unique man. He has many, many flowering plants that he brought with him to plant in your gardens. He spends much of his time tending to the flowers. He even speaks to the flowers, gently, softly, telling them about how wonderful and interesting his new partner is…things like that. He loves to take you for strolls in his garden, introducing you to his plants, occasionally plucking one off a bush or tree, and by the time your done with the tour of the garden, he’s made you a lovely little bouquet of beautiful flowers. Your first night spent together he offered to sleep on the floor, or in the other room, whatever made you feel more comfortable, like he couldn’t imagine the possibility of forcing someone he was arranged to marry into sharing a bed with him. When you assure him that you’re comfortable sharing a bed with him, he hesitantly removes his armor and slides into bed with you, but he doesn’t try to touch you or make any sort of move on you. He’s a gentleman that way.

And. You got to see the BEAUTY of Argenti in the morning. An absolute MESS of tangled, long red hair. It was his first time sharing a bed with someone too, he hadn’t even considered you seeing him in such a state. He’s. Pretty embarrassed. But you assure him you still think he’s plenty beautiful, even with messy hair. And it’s…pretty fun to just lay in bed watching your husband at the vanity trying to tame his hair. You almost feel like you’ve known this man for a long time. Almost like you were meant to marry him… As an arranged marriage husband, he tries to give you space, tries to give you some freedom but. A part of him does hope you’ll stay loyal to him.

For a while you spend your time touring the different cities with the Knights of Beauty, quelling the problems each city was facing, while establishing that you were married to Argenti now, a Knight of Beauty, assuring the people that the nights were here to help. When you finally do get time to yourselves, he tries to be a good husband to you. Asks you how you felt about the day, if you need anything…things like that. He loves to hold you in his lap and rest his chin on your head, just listening to you talk.

(Some angst ideas to consider: you already have a lover when you’re forced to marry Argenti. Or you aren’t happy being married to him, but he catches you trying to run away.)

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Argenti #Argenti x reader #hsr Argenti x reader #honkai star rail Argenti x reader

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holdmytesseract · 6 months

Text

moodboard by @chennqingg <3 | divider by @jiyaxedits <3

Through The Years

Jotun!King!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: This story takes you and Loki on a journey through the twins life. From their first steps all the way to their first time falling in love.

Warnings for this Chapter: thirst, very suggestive smut/light smut - a lot, nudity, weapons, fighting, fluff, cute family moments

Word Count: 4,1k

a/n: I love this chapter. It's probably one of my favourites. I hope you all will love it, too! 🩵

Tags: @lokisgoodgirl @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @mandywholock1980 @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 (Continuing in the comments)

❄️ Chapter Two ❄️ Chapter Four ❄️

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Three - Sweet Sixteen

A dissatisfied sigh left your lips, as you felt the pillow underneath your head moving. Being still more than half asleep, you cuddled closer against the pillow again. The moment you got gently shoved off the warm underground which supported your head woke you up - just in time to see Loki standing up from where he sat on the edge of the bed.

The rising sun, which shone through the big windows illuminated his beautiful cerulean skin. His bare back; rippled with muscles almost seemed to glow - just like his gloriously naked butt and juicy thighs. Blinking, in order to get fully awake, you bit your lip. Sinful memories of the past night flooded your brain, and causing your core to throb deliciously.

Well... Since the princes had their own chambers by now, you and Loki were able to indulge way more into your love life than before; sharing some much-appreciated privacy and intimacy. Not that you and him made it work while the twins shared your chambers, but... Now it was easier.

"Where are you going, my king?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, still trying to escape the claws of sleep. "Come back to bed." You whined, reaching out your hands blindly. A low chuckle echoed through the room, as your husband appeared again in your field of view; but now fully dressed in his armour - much to your dismay. "Apologies, my love, but I promised our sons to see their development in fighting. I have to leave for the training grounds now. Unless I'll be late."

A grunt of disapproval left your lips. "They are training this early?" Loki nodded, chuckling. "As most of the time, darling. Our sons are very disciplined when it comes down to fighting. Well... At least one of them..." Loki mumbled the last sentence; voice barely audibly. "And I appreciate that, but... Can't you stay just a little longer and then leave for the training grounds?" You pouted and played with the soft duvet which was covering your naked body, causing another deep chuckle to rumble through your husband's chest. "I appreciate your eagerness, my queen, but I'm afraid not. Though, I promise to return by sunset and I shall quench your thirst." He stated, moving to hover above your upper body. The king's palms were firmly pressed in the mattress, left and right beside your arms to hold his body up. His biceps and abs bulged deliciously, causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Promised?" Loki's face was mere inches above yours now. Strands of raven hair tickling the side of your face. "Promised." His lips slotted over yours, kissing you with all the love and desire he held for you. It only managed to intoxicate you even further; making it even harder to let him go. So, you just decided to start a last try to convince him to stay.

You placed your palms on his abs, feeling the muscles flex beneath your hands, while you kept kissing him. You lingered there only for a few moments, before you let one hand wander lower. Your fingertips traced a line from his belly button, through the soft, silken hairs of his happy trail, to the hem of his ancient armour inspired loincloth. Just when you had slipped your fingers halfway underneath the garment, Loki's big hand was suddenly on yours; enveloping your wrist. His lips left yours with a pop. "Ah-ah, my queen," he tutted and gently pulled your hand away, before intertwining it with his. "As much as I'd love your hand down there... I really have to go." You huffed out a defeated breath and nodded. "Fine. Go, my king - as long as you keep your promise..." A cheeky, mischievous smirk darted over the Frost Giant's face. "Oh don't worry, my love. I want to keep this promise as much as you want me to." Loki whispered in a low voice and bestowed a last kiss on your lips - which you reciprocated hungrily.

Pulling away with a chuckle, your husband shook his head. "You are so insatiable recently, love... Merely letting me out of your sight - and bed." You just shrugged your shoulders; biting your lip. "Well... I just enjoy that we've got a bit more alone time and privacy at the moment. Happens not very often." "I agree - and I like it as well." With a wink, Loki let go of you and turned to walk to the door. "I'll see you tonight." You nodded, smiling. "I love you. Tell the boys I'm proud of them." "I love you even more. And yes, I shall do that."

Loki left the palace; greeting the guards, maids and other royal stuff on his way and headed for the training grounds. From afar, he already recognised his son's battle cries. Áki. Smiling, he leaned against one of the stone columns and watched him moving almost gracefully over the sandy underground, yielding his wooden training sword. Áki had a lot of potential to become a great warrior. He was even seen as the ideal warrior - by all the other fighters, Loki himself, Ymir (His mentor; named after the first Jotun.) and even his advisors. It caused proudness to flood the king's veins.

He admired his son for a few minutes, hidden by the column; watching his good work. But not just how hard and diligent he trained, no... It had Loki realising, that this wasn't his little boy anymore. Áki was slowly but surely growing into a man. His hair was longer now, almost reaching his shoulders. His muscles weren't anymore the muscles of a child, but a young man. Áki's shoulders became broader, his torso stronger. By the norns, Loki could even make out the subtle hints of a soft stubble on his chin. The king sighed, shaking his head. How fast time was flying by... They were just infants and now only a few months away from turning sixteen...

Crossing his arms over his muscular chest, Loki stepped out of the shadows, looking at Áki and Ymir, before scanning the area. Where was his other son? Váli was nowhere to be seen. "Dad!" Áki's voice urged to his ears, causing him to smile again. He walked over and placed a hand on his son's sweaty shoulder. Áki wasn't quite as tall as Loki - yet. "Hello, my son. I hope I'm not too late?" Áki smiled as well, shaking his head. "You're not. Just in time." Ymir gave Loki a nod, before bowing his head obediently. "My king."

Loki looked around once again, now frowning. "Where's your brother?" The young prince shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since yesterday." The king's eyes then drifted over to the warrior. "I haven't seen him either, your highness. Since a long time, actually. The last time he visited the training grounds was, I believe... a few weeks ago. Perhaps even months." Loki nodded, still frowning.

The princes weren't forced to train, in order to sharpen their fighting skills, but it was highly expected. A prince who couldn't fight and defend himself? Almost scandalous. Yet, Loki would never force his sons to do anything - except it was tradition. The traditions had to be maintained. Fighting wasn't one of them - and yet it surprised Loki to hear that his son had skipped the lessons so often.

"I'll talk to Váli. But for now..." Loki pulled out his beautifully crafted sword. "Show me what you learned." Áki grinned, taking a fighting position. "With pleasure, dad. Get ready to lose." His words made Loki chuckle. "Quite confident, aren't we? Last time we fought, you were the one who lost, son." "That may be true; but I learned."

It was late in the morning, when you decided to finally leave your bed. It had been way too comfortable to stand up - although Loki was missing beside you. Also deciding to flee from quite a few trade documents, who wished to be read and possibly signed, you made your way down the halls towards the library. A book and perhaps a cup of tea was exactly what you wanted today. Just a day off; regaining your strength. So, you told one of the maids that you wished to not be disturbed. With a nod and a curtsy, she left again, telling it the other royal stuff members and especially the royal advisors.

Closing the doors to the library behind yourself, you sighed, smiling. Silence. How soothing for your ears.

You took your time in searching for a book you'd like to read. No stress; no hurry. After you made your choice, you were about to sit down onto one of the comfortable armchairs, when an idea crossed your mind... The secret reading spot. Nobody knew about it. Except you, Loki and your sons. Clapping the book shut again, you climbed the stairs and the little ladder, which led to the hatch - and the hatch led to a little, hidden room behind the countless shelves of books. Loki showed you - though he was almost too tall to fit through the passageway. The little room was cosy furnished by your family and made to escape the royal life for a while.

Oblivious, you closed the hatch behind yourself - and looked up; almost getting a heart attack at the pair of identical Y/E/C eyes looking at you. "By the norns, Váli!" You yelped; hand draped across your heaving chest. The teenager smiled bashfully. "A-Apologies, mum." You took deep breaths, sitting down beside him on the countless pillows, blankets and furs. "What in all the nine realms are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the training grounds with your brother and father?" The young man's cheeks reddened. "I-I should, yes, but..." Váli sighed, shutting the book he was reading. "I don't like the fighting, mum. I don't want to become a warrior like Áki. I'd rather spend my time here in the library, reading and learning new things." He paused, fumbling nervously with his fingers. "I know the basics of fighting. Áki and Ymir taught me - a-and I think that's enough. I must confess that I've been skipped the training already for weeks... I-I'm so sorry, mum, I-" The prince said almost panicky, causing you to jump in. You placed a hand on his tunic clad shoulder and smiled. "It's alright, sweetheart. I can understand. Even though I loved to fight when I was younger - like you know. Without it, I wouldn't have met your father; but I do. I really understand. This is who you are - who you want to be... And that is just fine…" You gazed lovingly into your son's eyes, witnessing his features soften and his lips twitching into a smile. The hand on his shoulder went to cup his cheek. "…as long as you know how to at least protect yourself, so I don't have to worry." Váli placed his big hand over yours, shaking his head; causing his short, blonde curls to bounce. "You won't ever have to worry, mum. I promise." You smiled and couldn't help yourself from hugging him. Something Váli gladly returned.

A few moments passed, until your son spoke up again. "So... I came here to flee from my training... From what or who are you fleeing?" A small sparkle of mischief glinted in his eyes. Váli may have been the more sensitive and sensible one of twins, but nevertheless... He was his father's child.

You giggled, shaking your head. "From my royal duties." The prince chuckled as well. "Yeah, thought so."

It was already late in the evening, when Loki returned to the palace with Áki. The father and son duo spent the whole day on the training grounds. While Loki was still up to the mark and not tired at all, Áki was lacking quite a bit stamina - yet. The teenager was worn out and tired and therefore retreated straight to his chambers - probably sleeping through.

"It has been a very successful day today. I'm proud of you, son. Of course, you still have to learn a lot of things, but... I have the feeling you are born for this. You're doing great. Keep it up - but don't forget the other important things in life." It was an allusion to the young prince's royal duties, which he liked to neglect from time to time. Áki smiled, blushing slightly, but nodded. "I will, dad, I promise. And thank you. I love to train with you. I hope we can do this more often." A chuckle rumbled through the Frost Giant's chest. "Is Ymir not satisfying enough, young warrior?" "No, no. Ymir is great, but... You are better. The greatest warrior Jotunheim has ever seen - and my dad." Loki nodded, understood what Áki meant and placed his hand on his shoulder. "I know what you mean. I promise you I'll take time to train with you. Being the king isn't an easy task and utterly busy, but... Family is way more important. Although, I can't always leave the duties to your mother. She's got enough of her own." "I understand." "I know you do." The king patted his son's shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night's rest." "Thanks, dad. You too - and... Greet mum, please. I haven't seen her all day..." "I will."

After saying goodbye to his one son, Loki marched straight to the chambers of his other son - which weren't far away. Just down the hallway. Knocking gently, he waited for an answer. A few moments later, he got one. "Come in!" Váli's voice urged to Loki's ears from behind the door. He stepped inside and found his son nestled in front of the fireplace, reading. The nights had started to become quite cold, indicating that autumn was on his way. Váli lifted his head, in order to see who the 'intruder' was. His eyes widened immediately, when they landed on his father. "O-Oh, hello, d-dad." He clapped the book shut, putting it aside. "C-Can I help you with something?" Váli was nervous and frankly a bit afraid, because he knew exactly what was going on.

Loki gave him a nod, before he crossed his arms over his chest, muscles bulging. "You weren't on the training grounds today... And Ymir told me that you missed his fighting lessons quite often... Why?" Loki could see how the teenager swallowed and started to play with his fingers nervously. The conversation for him like a déjà vu, since he had talked with you about it this morning as well.

"I-I am sorry, dad, it's just..." He sighed. "I, uh, I don't like the fighting. I don't want to become a warrior like Áki. I'd rather spent the whole day in the library. Reading books, learning things." Loki was quite a bit speechless. He knew, of course, how much his son loved his books, but he didn't expect that. "A-And I know that I have to be able to defend myself - which I understand! I do. I really do - and I am more than capable of doing so. I can defend myself if I have to. I learned the basics of fighting and that's enough." Váli paused, taking a deep breath, while his father still listened patiently to what he has to say. "I-I hope you understand that. Y-You once said that you wouldn't force us to do anything besides tradition, so please, dad... Please don't-" That was the moment Loki had to jump in.

"Váli..." He walked over to his son, laid his arm around his shoulder and guided him to sit down on the little fur clad sofa beside the fireplace. "Me, nor your mother would force you to do anything you don't want to. That's what I once said, yes... And it never changed. That point still stands. It always will. If you prefer reading than fighting, then by the norns, be it this way." The king smiled at the prince, who was visibly relieved. "Nevertheless, I'd like to test your skills. See if you really are able to defend yourself. It's important." Váli nodded. "Okay." "Okay. Let's say tomorrow?" Once again, a nod. "Tomorrow." "Good." Loki clapped his son gently on the back and stood up. "I'll leave you to your book now. I am sure your mother awaits me already." Váli smiled. "Thank you, dad." He gave him a nod, "Of course." and turned to leave. "I wish you a good night's rest."

After the important conversation with his son, Loki made his way quickly and full of anticipation to his and your shared chambers. After all, there was some... unfinished business between you and him. When he finally reached the door, he practically stormed in - only the find the chambers empty, except for a maid, who was currently cleaning up. The maid noticed him of course immediately and quickly curtsied. "Oh, good evening, your majesty." Loki gave her a nod. "Have you seen my wife? Do you know where she is?" "Yes, my king. She is having her supper." Oh... Too bad, Loki thought, but decided not to join you. He'd wait for you. "Thank you. Leave now, please. I wish to be alone." The maid curtsied again, "Of course, my king." and hurried to leave the royal chambers.

The king decided to take a bath; get rid of all the sweat, grime and dust, while he waited for you to return.

Putting your spoon aside, you stood up from the table. "Your majesty, have you had enough to eat? Can I bring you something else?" You shook your head and smiled at the young maid. "No, thank you. I'll retreat to the chambers for the night." The young female Jotun nodded and curtsied. "Very well, my queen." "Oh, do you know if my husband and son already returned?" She shook her head. "Unfortunately, not. No." "Alright, thank you. Good night." "Good night, your highness."

While the maids already hurried to clean everything up, you left the dining hall and made your way back towards your chambers.

Softly closing the door behind yourself, you decided to go to bed early today. A long, rough day of neglected work was coming your way, without a doubt. And since Loki hasn't returned yet either...

You stepped over to the bed you shared with the king. With a sigh, you reached behind yourself and started to undo the laces of the corset you wore. It was attached to a beautifully tailored skirt. The colours were a rich gold and a deep green, showing of course to whom your heart belonged. Loki. You may be living on Jotunheim now, surrounded by your folk, the Jotuns, but nevertheless... You were still an Æsir and also loved to wear Asgardian dresses. It was a part of who you were. A part of yourself.

Your hands worked blindly on unlacing the corset, causing you to highly concentrate on the difficult task ahead. You were so focused, that you didn't notice the calculated steps, coming your way. Loki was lurking behind you in the dark, like a predator was observing his prey. The moment you started to undress; his eyes never left your body for a second. Fixated on what was his. Now, he was standing right behind you; your intoxicating scent invading his system like a drug. He was never going to get tired of this. Never. His eyes trailed over your back; followed the sliver of skin, which peeked through the gap of the unlaced corset. Ruby orbs settled on your hands, as he watched them work. It was a feast for his eyes and probably selfish, but he couldn't help himself.

His fingers twitched; eager to touch you. Loki managed to control himself for quite a few moments, but at some point, he just couldn't take it anymore. Reaching out his arms, he enveloped your hands, causing you to flinch. But he leaned quickly forward, bestowing a sensual kiss on the skin where your neck met your shoulder, reassuring you. "Shh, it's me, my queen," the king whispered in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine at his deep, raspy voice. His hands gently removed yours, as he took the laces in his own hands, unlacing the corset for you. Once that was done, you felt his fingertips dancing over the sliver of freed skin, before he slipped both his hands inside your dress, in order to shove the expensive garment over your shoulders and down your arms; letting it fall to the ground. Now you stood in front of him almost naked. Your white undergarment was the last thing covering you. Although Loki made quick work of ridding you of those as well; leaving you now completely bare. You could feel his ruby eyes on you again; followed by his sinful touch. Palms coming to rest right above your hip bones; thumbs caressing the soft skin on your lower back. You shivered again; heartbeat increasing. Loki's touch never failed to overwhelm you in so many different ways. It had never changed. From the moment he touched you for the first time, through all the years and now.

His hands lingered there only for a few moments, before they started their journey. They travelled upwards, passing by your hips and waist, until they landed on your ribcage - mere inches underneath the swell of your breasts. Your breathing was already ragged; growing more and more unsteady the further up his hands travelled. But it failed you for a second, when they stopped so close in front of their destination. He was teasing you. "L-Loki," you breathed; already pleading him. He had you - without a doubt. Loki just had to snap his fingers and you were a chaotic, aroused mess for him.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Already begging me, darling? Isn't my touch enough?" He asked in a low, husky voice, tightening his grip. You whimpered - in desperation. Loki chuckled once more; hands starting to roam your body again - but missing the parts where you needed him the most. "My queen..." He whispered hoarsely. "You are divine. I swear, I will never tire of you. Still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. A feast for the eyes." He was so close to you. So close, that you could feel his hot breath tickling the skin on your neck. "My eyes only, of course. You belong to me. You are mine." Loki pressed another feverish kiss on your neck. "Let me worship you." Kiss. "Let me make love to you." Kiss. "M-My king, I-I-" He grinded his hips against your back, causing you to cut off your own sentence; mouth forming a perfect 'o'. He was naked. Your eyelids fell shut; a ragged breath leaving your lips.

"Time to keep my promise," your husband growled into your ear, as he pushed you forward - walking you closer to the bed. Before your body could hit the sheets, he turned you around, so you were sitting on the edge of the bed - with Loki towering above you know. Finally, you could lay your eyes upon your handsome man. He had freshly bathed. You could tell by the wet strands of his raven hair. Small droplets of water were still running down his cerulean skin, making their way down his entire body. His ruby eyes were an even darker shade of red; clouded by lust. You took the few moments, in which you just shamelessly stared at him. Time to tease him a bit.

Loki was staring down at you as well. One hand was in his hair, smoothing back his wet hair, while the other was... Your eyes lowered, landing on his crotch. Oop. You smirked and reached out your hand, batting his away - which caused a low groan to escape his throat. Placing both your palms on his thick, muscular thighs, you rubbed them up and down his long femurs; not missing to dig your fingernails into the supple skin - causing Loki to hiss. Close. But not close enough. "My love..." He whined; abs clenching in pure, primal desperation. You smiled again, biting your lips. Just a bit more.

"Aren't you tired, my king? After a whole day of fighting? Don't you wish to go to bed immediately?" You teased him further. Loki shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. "My queen... You-" He groaned again, as you traced the inside of his thighs; muscles twitching, hips bucking. "You were saying, my king?" Loki swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. "Y-You of all the p-people should know how much s-stamina I have." That was true. "Mhh, indeed." Your hands moved to his ass, urging him to step closer. "Then show me again how much stamina you got."

#the ice flower au #jotun loki #jotun loki x reader #jotun loki smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 year

Note

Could you perhaps write about Dark!Aemond controlling his twin from a young age and when he sees a Tyrell lord attempting to court her he snaps and takes her as his. Saying they belong together because they’re twins and no one but he can have her. Maybe the twin brings up Alys (this happens after the dance and the greens have won au) and Aemond vows to be rid of her if that’s what his twin desires since he was using Alys to watch his sister in the flames whilst he was at Harrenhal winning the war.

Your writing is so good I love it!

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Dark!Aemond x Twin!sister reader

summary: Aemond controlling his twin from a young age and when he sees a Tyrell lord attempting to court her he snaps and takes her as his.

Word count: 3,0K

Warnings: Angst, manipulation, groping, smut, spoilers for Fire and Blood.

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Ever since you were born Aemond has been there naturally as twins. Your parents never attempted to separate you two as children, however as babes your mother placed you in two different cradles which may have been one of the biggest mistakes of her life as Aemond cried and wailed for days until they returned you beside him. The maester said it could be because he was so used to you having been together for nine moons together.

As you two grew up his obsession only grew with you. He would sneak into your lessons with your septa just to merely stare at you. He would demand you two be fed from the same plate and to have High Valyrian lessons together. He would defend you against Aegon who loved pulling on your hair and throwing mud on your beautiful gowns.

By the age of nine namedays Aemond was known as the attached twin, you never seemed to have much problem having some alone time or away from Aemond but he would throw a tantrum if he did not see you beside him from the moment he woke up until the moment sleep took him under. Aemond decided to learn the art of sword fighting with your protection as his motivation. When he heard of the betrothal between Aegon and Helaena hope grew inside of his chest that one day you two will be betrothed to one another as well.

When he lost his eye you were in your bed already asleep away from the chaos but you were woken up by a maid shivering with fear. Aemond demanded you be brought to him, he refused the help of a maester or to even be simply comfort by his mother. The second the maid brought you in sleepy and rubbing your eyes confused he attached himself to you.

Like any sibling you were horrified with the sight of blood. You took one look at his face and a blood chilling scream left your lips. You hugged him tightly terrified for him. Your screams that day would echo in the heads of your entire family. Aemond was your twin and he got hurt. You stayed by his side for moons cleaning the wound and hand feeding his medicine. You were the one to demand he stops training fearing him getting hurt but he insisted just to make you proud.

But now you two were no longer children, you were survivors of the war. Aegon was king after defeating and killing your elder sister along with all of her children. That war left you scared having to watch as Sunfyre devoured your sister. Your older brother was maimed as well, half burned leaving the work on Aemond's shoulders until he was healthy again. Your mother mourned your sister Helaena who had threw herself out of the window after they had killed her son Jaehaerys, ripping his head off his body.

You wore black of mourning for moons and only recently began wearing the red of house Targaryen growing to hate the colour green, a hate your mother seemed to agree on as well. You also were your sister's favourite light blue in her honour.

It was that time of year again when spring came and flowers bloomed. The time your mother invited lords from the north to the south, from the east to the west to court in hopes of you finding a husband. Your eye was caught on the one and only Leonard Tyrell, a lord with light brown hair and blue eyes, he was not muscular but not skinny either, he was just right with a couple of inches on you enough to tower over you.

"For my lady" He held out a rose. You giggled knowing that he gave it to you for it was the symbol of his house.

"Thank you my lord" The sparkle in your eyes made the insides of Aemond churn with anger, it was supposed to be only for him. You were supposed to be only for him to love, to protect and to fuck. Your mother refused time and time again to betroth you two saying you were meant for a political marriage, you two were to marry of other houses and bring peace after the war.

"No need to thank me princess, this flower will soon wilt and die but your beauty will remain to give it some life" Leo, as he liked to be called, flirted. His hand raised to curl around a piece of your white-blonde hair. His touch on your cheek was almost as light as feather.

"Beauty fades as well, my lord" Your smart mouth could have made you loose this betrothal, this affection he felt for you and you for him.

"Nonsense yours will stay even a hundred years from now" He leaned closer. Your eyes widened in shock but you remained frozen in place awaiting what you have dreamed of since you were a little girl. His breathe tickled your lips making your heart skip a beat with anticipation.

"Lord Tyrell!" You both jumped away from each other. Your eyes almost watered at the sight of the anger on Aemond's face. He has never looked so angry in his life before, he may have never hurt you before in your life but you feared then that the time may have come.

"My prince" Leo bowed to your brother. He looked disgusted at the sight of jealousy on Aemond's face, of course he viewed like everyone else this kind of love as queer, everyone hated the incest that ran in your family.

"The King require your presence" Aemond did not know where he found the strength to not tear the highborn arrogant lord into pieces.

"Ahh I shall go see him then. Excuse me princess" Just to spite your brother Leo took your hand and placed a kiss on it. Aemond clenched his fists behind his back to not show how much this disturbed him. His face morphed into an evil look as he watched Leo walk away.

"Aemond-" Your voice caught in your throat when his glare moved to you.

"What do you think you were doing? Do you want to be seen? Do you want people to call you a whore? Kissing lords in the open? kissing lords who are not your husband?" He threw one question after the other taking a step closer to you with each question. Fear pumped in your blood stepping back and away from him unknowingly he lured you behind a huge bush away from sight of the main road of the gardens.

"We are to be betrothed-" Your tried defended yourself. Aemond chuckled darkly as if he heard the funniest joke in centuries.

"Did you really think I would let that happen? You are mine!" He moved before you could run away grabbing you by your neck. You hands clawed at his wrist trying to push him away but he was too far gone.

"Aemond, let me go" You begged. His eyes softened at the sight of tears build up in your eyes. His hold grew weaker but still held you firmly against his body.

"You are mine! Do you understand? You were always meant to be mine" His voice grew quieter with each word he spoke. Your heart broke when the realisation dawned on you, Aemond will never leave you alone and you loved it, Tyrell would have never fought for you like Aemond would.

"We were born together and we are meant to die together whether now and here or in a decade or two" Aemond whispered leaning down to speak against your ear. His lips wrapped around you earlobe sucking on it before moving to place open mouth kisses to the column of your throat hand now sliding down to the curve of your waist.

"Aemond" You breathed feeling yourself loosing control of your body with each kiss, with each caress , you have never felt anything like this before, Aemond has never touched you like that before.

"Dōna idaña" Sweet twin. He whispered licking up your chin pausing only a breath away from your lips.

"Kiss me" You begged. His free arm wrapped around your waist pulling you in closer to his body. He obeyed like the slave he was, he was your slave who controlled you, your slave who filled your head with himself.

His lips were soft and sweet tasting of honey tarts, your favourites. He hands ran up and down your back, your sides and into your hair. He felt adventures letting one of his hands slide down to grope at your bottom making you moan into his mouth. He slipped his tongue into your mouth feeling every inch he could reach.

"My baby sister, I am the only one who could love you as much as you deserve" He pulled back. You felt hazy and like you were under a spell Aemond smirked using this opportunity to bunch up your dress feeling up your thigh. He hooked his hand under your knee pulling it up to rest around his waist.

"Big brother will show you how much he loves" He leaned down to whisper in your ear. His fingers danced up your thigh in rhythm with his lips sucking his marks all over your neck and down to your bosom.

"rōva lēkia" Big brother. You whimpered feeling him so close to where you needed him. Aemond felt himself growing hard at the sound of your moans. He was only a couple of minutes your elder but has always held that over your head and would grow angry when you would call Aegon 'Older brother or big brother' those were his nicknames, his titles.

"rōva lēkia will take care of you sweet girl" He promised sucking practically hard at a spot that could not be hidden by any dress, just between your chin and neck. You moaned a little too loud but neither of you cared.

He let his finger run over your small cloth feeling it wet under his finger. He smirked pulling away a little from you much to your confusion. He kneeled down holding your leg up to rest on his shoulder instead. Your big brother did not mind kneeling down in front of you, his queen.

"Aemond-" Your words caught in your throat at the sound of ripping, he ripped the layers keeping him from your most private parts. He did not hesitate wrapping his lips around your swollen numb.

"Aemond" This time it was a moan coming out of your lips. He blew lightly on your hole making you shiver. He raised one of his hands up your leg and slowly over to your pussy.

"Please" You begged feeling him kitten lick your numb. Aemond was feeling generous despite you irking his jealousy. He ran his finger back and forth over your hole before pushing it in slowly, he did not want to hurt you.

"Ahh, so good" You moaned grinding down at his hand. Aemond's head snapped up to look at you in shock.

"Have you done this before?" He questioned. You moaned feeling him move his finger inside of you still.

"Yes!" You cried feeling your knees weaken beneath you. Aemond stood with his free arm around your waist to steady you because your leg was still over his shoulder leaving your lower part completely exposed with his finger inside of you joined by a second one picking up pace.

"With who?" He accused angrily. Now he no longer cared for your pain, he wanted revenge.

"Alone, myself" You replied grinding down on his finger. Aemond smirked leaning his forehead on yours. He pulled his hand away from your hole to undo his trousers, he could no longer waist.

"Thinking of who?" He asked. Your face turned a dark shade of red. Aemond shoved himself inside of you in one go claiming yours lips to silence your cries of pain.

"Shhh, keep it down" He hissed. Teeth grinding as he tried hard not to move. Eyes glittering with joy at the sight of his cock coming out bloodied with your maidenhead before shoving it back in and staying in place.

"Who were thinking of while pleasuring yourself, sister?" Aemond asked. You looked down refusing to look at him and instead watched where you two were connected. Aemond grew frustrated and moved to raise your other leg around his waist and lowered your leg over his shoulder to also wrap around his waist letting your dress come down to cover the sinful act you two were doing.

"Who is it?!" He demanded loudly. You cried when he pulled out only to slam back in harshly.

"You! Aemond" You admitted. Aemond lowered himself down on his knees letting you lay on your back. Hands on your bottom holding your lower half higher on the same level as his.

"Is that so, baby sister?" He teased rolling his hips gently. You nodded your head bitting your lower lip feeling too scared and ashamed to ask him to go faster.

"Only big brother makes me peak" You admitted shyly. Aemond chuckled darkly picking up the pace of his hips.

"That's right, only big brother can make you peak" He hoped someone would catch you like this so he could marry you on the spot. He felt a sweat break down his back at the feeling of your tight velvety walls squeezing him so tightly.

"So so good for big brother" He was unable but to moan. He had dreamed of this moment for so many years. Your moans grew louder the more his hips picked up the pace until he was slamming into you. You'd grow to regret this when the grass burn would hit you once the adrenaline was gone. Your hips ached from the position but you were so close you did not care.

"More" You begged throwing your head back feeling you had died and gone to heaven. Aemond growled from deep within his chest hips relentlessly slamming into yours. He needed to seed you, he needed to make you swell with a pure dragon child, he needed to show everyone who you belonged to.

"Cum for me, baby sister" he ordered. He leaned down to hold your chin in between his fingers making sure you looked him in the eyes. The eye contact was your demise making you squirt around his pulsating cock. You cried so loud you were sure your mother heard from her precious sept.

"That's it" Aemond moaned eyes not leaving yours for a second as his seed flooded inside of you. his hips still not daring to move a single inch in or out.

"Get me pregnant" You begged ankled locking behind him making him rock in and out of you although he was softening you moaned at the feeling of him being inside.

"Are you getting off on my cum?" Aemond teased rocking his hips still He bit his lip to hide how effected he was, cock crying from the friction still not over cumming so much, he has not composed himself just yet but for you he would endure the hottest fires of hell.

"Yess, I love your cum, seed me" You moaned clawing at his leather tunic. Aemond whimpered leaning his head down into your neck. His cock was starting to pain him but he kept moving, for you, his queen.

"I'm cumming" You cried tightening your hold him. He whimpered just beside your ear throwing you off the edge, Aemond made a mental not that you loved hearing him, loved hearing how much you effected him.

"Cum, my love" He bit your ear whimpers still leaving his lips. Your walls clamped down on him as you came.

"Sweet sister" He praised pulling out unable to hold on anymore. His softening cock pulsated still found the strength to spurt out some white cum on your hole from the outside, just barely.

"How was that, my love?" Aemond asked teasingly turning to look at your fucked out face. Your eyes hardened as you looked up at him much to his confusion.

"I hope your Alys does not mine me loaning her cock" You pushed him back making him land on his back beside you.

"What?" Aemond was more than shocked by your words. You knew of Alys? How? Aegon!

"Your darling Alys, wasn't that her name? The witch!" You moved away from him to collect the shreds of what used to be your small cloth and linen.

"She is nothing, not compared to you" He composed himself enough to tuck himself back inside his trousers.

"Is that so? Whose cunt did you like more? Mine, the virgin, or her the whore?" You turned to glare at him. Aemond may have loved you first and followed you like a lost puppy but you loved him more, harder.

"Yours of course, she is nothing, I only used her" He pushed himself on his feet feeling still numb from the two orgasms that your cunt pulled out of him. Oh hoe delicious they were.

"Used her?" You tilted your head to the side sarcastically accuse him without saying the words, he was a liar to you.

"Yes! She showed me you" He moved to grab your shoulders before you could move away from him with a scowl on your face.

"Showed me to you?" You asked frowning your eyebrows.

"Yes! in the flames, I saw you everyday as you bathed, ate, slept and prayed for me" He whispered smiling down at you. He looked like a fool in love.

"You watched me while your cock was deep in her hole" You accused raising your hand to slap him. He recovered quickly holding your chin in his hand.

"As payment to see you but I came only to the thought of you, I grew hard only for you and if you ask me I will kill her" He leaned his forehead on yours. You raised your own hand to wrap around his hair pulling his head back to look you straight in your glaring eyes.

"Kill her" You demanded with no hesitation or mercy. Aemond felt his cock stir in his trousers as your jealousy shinned through. His dreams were coming true, you were giving into him. You were just as twisted and corrupted as he was.

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wordsbymae · 2 months

Text

Late One Stormy Night Pt. 2

This is a continuation, including a large time jump, of my original farmer storyline, the canon events if you will. I would have loved to do this for flower seller and mousy au, however I feel it fits much better for the original farmer. I may do one for the other aus as well. Also this is just a short little snippet into where this reader ends up, I have spoken in depth about their life together, but this is years down the track, where pumpkin has finally given in.

Triggers: Pregnancy! FemReader, Stockholm syndrome ofc, reader has pretty much been brainwashed into being a perfect house wife, if you didn't know the context or if I didn't remind you within the text, it would seem like a nice love story. feminism please do not judge me

A kick against your belly halted your movements. A small smile etches across your face. You drop the washing you had just grab back into the basket that lay on the lush green ground beneath you. A gentle spring breeze floated past, bringing the scent of pine and grain past. The babe in your belly has only just started to move within you. You had yet to fully comprehend that life, a new being, was growing within you. Another kick, against both your belly and hand this time, brought a giggle to your face. The sound of tyres on dirt brought your attention to your husband pulling up in front of the house. Your giggle faded. You didn't like remembering the time before you were allowed in the house, the time you spent huddle within a stable in the barn. When you fought against his every action and offer of affection. Now, after finally putting your pride aside, you were happy. It took years, but you finally content by his side. It was so long ago know that you couldn't even really remember how you came across him. All your remember is rain, and that is all you could begin to remember before the memories fell apart like ash.

You begin to make your way to your husband, pushing aside the laundry drying along the washing line. The sun beamed down with kindness, bringing a subtle warmth across your skin.

You stopped a few metres away from him, watching as he jumped out of his pick up truck, a wide smile on his face at the sight of you.

"Well good afternoon to you pumpkin, how you feeling? That boy of mine not giving you trouble?" he greeted, turning to the tray of the truck, grabbing from it a large wooden log. He huffs as the weight of the log pushes against his shoulder.

"I'm feeling fine" you laugh, it was a game of yours to count how many times in one day he asked how you were feeling. This was his 10th ask of the day.

"We don't if its a boy yet. Could be a girl" you offer with a smirk. He was convinced it was a boy.

"Nope" he states as he walks towards the work shed, you follow behind him, begging for attention. Ever since the barn, you've been so desperate for affection.

"In the last five generations of my family, there hasn't been one girl born" he drops the log down in the dirt next to his wood working station. You pout, wondering how that is even possible and also wondering why he had a massive log to begin with.

"what's the log for?" you ask.

He turns back to you with a lazy smile, wiping sweat from his brow and he takes his hat off.

"A crib" he beams. Delight dancing in his eyes.

"Oh, that makes sense" you mutter. Your eyes begin to slowly blink in exhaustion. Carrying a baby isn't easy.

" Come on pumpkin, lets get you to bed" he drawls, grasping your hand with a gentle touch. So very different from how he used to touch you when you first arrived.

You nod lazily, still surprised with how quickly sleep comes to you these days.

"That boy of ours sure likes to cause trouble huh? He's gonna just be like his daddy, although I'm hoping he's gonna look like you sweetheart." he muses, a hand coming down to trace your belly as you walk.

The farmer smiles once more. Everything he ever wanted he has. A beautiful wife, the perfect family and more hopefuly to come after this one. He chides himself for the years spent alone, angry at the world and himself. That whole time he could have had this, a place within a family. But he wouldn't change anything, not the timing or the place. You came to him at the perfect time, you were everything he ever could have wanted and more.

He thanks himself for having the courage to take what he saw as his.

#very short #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere prompts #farmer yandere #oc farmer #farmer #yandere x female reader #fem!reader #tw pregnancy #stockholm syndrome

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sneakyblinders · 1 year

Text

chocolate cake

A/N: for my Tommy and his darling wife!au. we meet grace in this one... continued in the drunk lunch. warnings: not canon. sexual themes, mentions/alluding to smut but no smut. fluff. language, general other peaky blinders shenanigans. (alcohol, smoking etc) 2.3k words

As your marriage to Thomas Shelby went on, there were things he discovered about you that he hadn’t known about prior to your vows.

Like how you stole all of the blankets in your sleep, leaving him to freeze with no blankets, your grip on the blankets unbreakable, even in your deepest sleep.

Or, how much you enjoyed writing letters. He grew to love your handwriting. Grew fond of the little notes you’d leave for him in the domestic parts of your home. Some simple and sweet, and others laced with the intention of getting him rather riled up for later.

He loved how intentionally you selected your outfits for the day, how much you fussed over your hair and lipstick being just right. He’d sit and watch as you finger combed through your curls, getting the waves right.

He loved how bright you are. He knew you were bright before he married you, yes, but upon finding the right place for you at Shelby Company Limited, he was astounded at how quickly you caught on to everything he had given you charge over. You were fantastic with numbers, quicker with them than he was. Good with wording correspondence. He also thought you looked bloody beautiful sitting at the desk at the other end of his office. You told him you didn’t have to be in his office to be his new secretary, but he assured you that he wanted you in his office. Wanted to spend every second with you that he could. And every chance he got to lay eyes on you, he took. It took some getting used to–having his beautiful bride in his office everyday. He didn’t get nearly as much work done the first few weeks, but after the novelty wore off, the two of you fell into a good routine. Every Friday you’d walk into the office to see a fresh bouquet of flowers from your husband sitting on the corner of your desk.

“Mr. Shelby, it appears someone is trying to romance me,” you giggled, reading the card in the flowers the first Friday he had the idea. The card was incredibly raunchy, something you couldn’t believe he would’ve narrated to the flower shop man.

“Is it working?” he smirked at you from behind his paper, sitting at his desk.

“Yes.” you smiled back.

But his favorite thing he’d discovered after you’d married, was your love for celebration, and your ability to bake.

When you got married in March, you were dismayed that you had to wait a whole ten months to celebrate your husband's birthday in January. “You have almost a whole year to think of how to royally embarrass me, my darling.” he had told you.

He was turning thirty-one, and you had wanted to make it a special day with you and his family.

You’d spent the night before his birthday holed up in the kitchen, shooing Frances away, assuring her you knew what you were doing and you didn’t need any help. Your Thomas loved chocolate, and a chocolate cake is what he got.

He returned home late that evening, just as you were tucking the frosted cake into the icebox for the celebration dinner you had planned for the next evening. “Darling?” he called from the foyer.

“In the kitchen!” you called back, smoothing down your hair, unknowingly spreading flower and sugar throughout it.

He chuckled when he saw you. Hair adorned with sugar and flower, the front of your apron messy from where you’d wiped your hands repeatedly on it, and a slight bit of chocolate on the corner of your lips from where you’d taste tested. “Hello there,” he chuckled as you untied your apron. “You’ve got a little something here,” he told you, smiling down as he wiped at the chocolate with his thumb. You stood on your toes to kiss him. He moaned into the kiss before you pulled away. “Smells wonderful in here, what is it?”

“You’ll have to wait ‘till tomorrow!” you tell him in a sing-song voice, dancing away from his hands to the sink.

“You don’t have to do that tonight, love, it’s late. Let Frances do it.” he told you as you went to the sink and started scrubbing at the dishes.

“If I don’t, it’ll be harder to get clean tomorrow. It won’t take me long. Plus, I have other plans for tomorrow, and I already told Frances she could turn in for the evening,” you tell him, turning the water on. He took his jacket off and began to unclasp his cufflinks, putting them in the dish you kept for your rings at times like this, and rolled his sleeves up.”What’re you doing?” you ask as he stands next to you.

“Helping,” he said simply, holding the drying towel as you passed him the first of many spoons that needed washing. “When your hands start to turn pruney, switch me and I’ll wash and you can dry.” he told you, sliding the spoon into the drawer with the rest of the silverware.

“You surprise me everyday, Thomas Shelby.” you smile at him, continuing to scrub.

You asked about his day and he told you of several conversations he’d had in your absence at the office. He told you of the new barmaid that Harry had hired, and he had an odd feeling about her.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“She kept eyeing me.” he said as he pulled your hands from the dirty water, signaling you it was his time to wash.

“Eyeing you?” you ask, heart sinking a little.

He smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nothing to be worried about my love, she’s–not someone I’d be interested in,” noticing your apprehension, he wiped his hands on the dish towel and turned to you, taking your head in his hands. “She’s not you. I’m madly in love with you, eh?” he told you. You nodded, as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

The next evening after the company was closed for the weekend, you all headed to the Garrison to celebrate Tommy’s birthday. You’d asked Frances to drop the cake off at the Garrison that afternoon.

When you entered the Garrison, you were greeted by a number of “regulars” who you had grown to know and care for. Caleb, one of them, was a young man, probably sixteen, who was infatuated with you. At first you were afraid of his advances, not wanting Tommy to hurt the poor man. “Darling, I know it’s just puppy love. I know you need a man,” he had nearly growled in your ear, making you bite your lip and squeeze your legs together under the table.

“Good evening, Mrs. Shelby!” Caleb waved to you from the bar.

“Evening, Caleb!” you waved back to him as he smiled from ear to ear. Tommy’s hand was on the small of your back, gently guiding you to the snug, where his family waited with confetti, whiskey, beer and party blowers. And of course, the cake.

You caught the eye of the new barmaid, and she instantly made your blood boil. She looked at you as if she may cry.

“Does she always look like that?” you asked Tommy over your shoulder.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Like she’ll burst into tears at any given moment.” you said.

Tommy just smirked, opening the door to the snug. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” everyone yelled as he walked through the door. He looked at you with an incredulous smile as confetti fell onto his hat and shoulders.

“Come on, ya mad bastard, so we can eat this lovely cake your wife made!” Arthur said, hurrying the birthday man to sit down.

All of you were crowded around the table, sitting shoulder to shoulder as you passed pieces of cake around, and toasted to the birthday boy. “Thirty one miserable years. May the next thirty one be better than the first thirty one,” John joked. Everyone laughed and toasted, beer sloshing over the sides of their mugs.

You’d made advances at him all evening, undressing him with your eyes, pressing small kisses to his jawline, a hand on his thigh, fiddling with his ring when you held his hand, all things that you’d discovered that drive him wild.

After everyone was properly drunk, Tommy excused the two of you for the evening. “Let’s go to my upstairs office, since you can’t seem to wait until we get home,” he rasped low in your ear, hand around your waist as he guided you upstairs, the barmaid's eyes not leaving your back for a minute.

Tommy closed his office door with his foot, his hands too preoccupied with pushing your coat off your shoulders.

Thirty minutes later, after a long round merciless teasing on your end, and begging and cursing on your husbands, your knees ached; but your husband was breathless in front of you, his chest heaving as you rested your cheek on his thigh, looking up at him from your position between his legs on the floor.

“Fucking perfect angel, my wife is.” he told you, reaching for a cigarette in his top desk drawer. You move yourself up to sit on his lap, taking the cigarette from him, lighting it between your lips before passing it to him.

“Happy birthday, my love.” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his jawline, resting your head on his shoulder. He smokes, allowing his breathing to return to normal and the flush to fade from his cheeks and neck. After he finishes his cigarette, he tucks himself back into his pants, readjusts his suspenders and straps his holster back around his shoulders before pulling his jacket over his broad shoulders. “Ready?” you ask, standing by the door.

“Yes,” he says, looking around the office, a confused look on his face. “Do you think I left my hat in the snug?” he asked.

“Probably, we can go look.” you tell him, taking his hand as he locks the door of his office.

The Garrison was nearly empty now, his family and most patrons long gone by this time of night. The barmaid was wiping down the bar when you two walked by. “Mrs. Shelby,” she called out to you, her accent striking to your ears. Tommy kept walking towards the snug. “Where did you get your dress? It’s beautiful.” she said, a small smile attempting to form on her lips.

“Mrs. Johnson’s, on Rickter street.” you say, eyeing her carefully. She shrinks under your scrutinous gaze.

“Mr. Shelby’s birthday is today?” she asks.

“Yes.” you tell her shortly as Tommy returns with his hat.

“It was in there, love.” he tells you, hat in his hand. “Grace,” he nods to the barmaid.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Shelby.” she says, a flash of seduction in her tone.

“Thank you,” Tommy held out his hand for you to take after he secured his cap on his head. “Goodnight, Grace.”

“Goodnight,” she called out, but the doors slammed shut behind you two before either of you could hear her.

You were quiet on the ride home, hand resting on Tommy’s thigh as he drove you two home. “You alright?” he asked when he pulled into the circular driveway of your home.

“Yes. Perfectly alright.” you told him, faking a smile.

“Did the barmaid say something to you?” he asked.

“I just–can’t shake this feeling, Thomas.” you tell him, worry spreading across your features.

“We’ll figure it out, my love. Try and put it out of your mind for tonight, yeah?” he told you. You nodded your head in agreement.

The next morning you woke up naked in Tommy’s arms, your back against his chest. Your legs burned, and there was a familiar ache between your legs from the second half of your husband's birthday present you’d delivered after returning home. He groaned as he began to wake up, rolling onto his back to stretch his legs. “Good morning,” you tell him, flipping to your stomach to stretch your arms and legs simultaneously.

“Good morning,” he rasps, voice gravelly from sleep. “Thank you for such a wonderful birthday, Sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome. Did you like your cake?” you ask.

“It was the best birthday cake I’ve ever eaten.” he told you, raking a hand through his hair. “Do we have any leftovers? I’d like some for breakfast.” he smirked at you, reaching for a cigarette. “I liked everything you did for my birthday.” he said, pulling you into his chest, a cheeky tone to his voice.

“Yeah?” you asked, cheeks flushing.

“Yes. That red robe… I really like that.” he said, eyeing where he had thrown it the night before on the chair in the corner of the room.

“I’ll wear it more often.” you told your husband, rolling on top of him, your mind a million miles away from all the worries you had the night before about the barmaid.

Grace entered the museum, aware of her meeting place with Inspector Campbell. She quickly walked through the halls, finding the room he had described to her. She nervously fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, waiting for him to round the corner-make his presence known.

“Any luck with Thomas Shelby?” his deep voice rasped as he came around the corner.

“Not so far,” she said quietly. “I think getting close to him will prove to be far harder than we thought. He is besotted with his wife.” she said, a twinge of jealousy in her voice.

The inspector breathed out a “pft”. “No man like Thomas Shelby is besotted with a wife for long. Men like him stray easily.”

She chuckled. “You didn’t see the way he looked at her.” she said. “And,” she added quickly. “You didn’t see what she looks like.”

“Then get close to the wife.” Campbell ground out, jaw locked tight.

Grace’s pulse sped up. “That is–another angle.”

And thus began Grace’s attempt at friendship with Mrs. Thomas Shelby.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #tom shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peakywomen #sneakyblinders

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mystra-midnight · 10 months

Text

Haunted Hoedown - DAY ONE

summary: it was like white-hot lightning engulfed your body, setting your world on fire. lights of red and yellow flashed behind your eyes like a disco dance from hell. eddie didn't try to keep you quiet this time.

warnings: teenage!eddie x housewife!reader. unprotected sex. tiny hint of praise kink. hints of dacryphilia. overstimunation. squirting. age gap (eddie’s is 18, readers is 34). cheating (i don't condone this outside the world of fiction). readers husband and kids have names but reader doesn't; no use of y/n. reader has some body insecurities (but is a total milf in my head tbh).

words: 5.3k

notes: day one of the haunted hoedown challenge being hosted by @inklore and @psychedelic-ink. i'm usually terrible at writing for challenges but i've had so much muse for eddie munson that this literally jumped off the pages. i might had missed the mark with the au setting tbh.

prompt: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

You woke slowly, sleep heavy in your head, as the twittering of morning birds roused you when you wished it hadn't. The world was still dark, the cresting sunlight hardly peaking over the horizon to illuminate it. On your bedside table, your alarm clock flashed, the hard red numbers burning your eyes.

6:30. Blink. 6:30. Blink. 6:31.

Groaning, you reached up to rub your tired eyes, disturbing the crusties that had formed overnight as you swung your legs to the side of the bed. Your bare feet touch the cold tiles, drawing a shiver down the length of your spine.

It was another mundane Monday: wake up, wake your teenage son, wake the twins, make everyone breakfast, get the twins dressed, drive everyone to school, do the weekly shopping, come home, and clean the house before cooking dinner.

You'd had the same routine every week, every Monday, like clockwork, for the past fifteen years. It wasn't that you regretted marrying your husband or having children. You loved them all, but life had felt boring lately—plain and boring.

You lived a comfortable life. Not above your means or in the lap of luxury, but comfortably. You weren't a nineteen-year-old wild child anymore. You were thirty-four, a mature mother. And this morning, it sucked.

Peter touched you for the first time in weeks last night, and it wasn't with a young lover's rage. He'd laid between your legs for an hour until an orgasm punched the air from your lungs, huffing and complaining the entire time, making your climax take longer than it should have. He'd made it seem almost like a chore, and you hadn't said anything; you'd rolled over and gone to sleep, like you had every other time.

And try as you might to understand him, it still hurt. It had been years since he'd surprised you with flowers just because he wanted to. He didn't initiate sex like he used to; there were no spontaneous romps in the kitchen while the kids were out and no skinny-dipping in the pool at midnight.

You knew you'd put on some weight after the birth of the twins. It was harder to lose this time around, and even though he still said you were beautiful and kissed all the parts of your body that you hated, it didn't feel the same anymore. He didn't look at you with wild desire anymore.

You tried to shove your hurt down deep; time changed things; it changed him and you. At least that was what you told yourself while you brushed your teeth, staring at the crows' feet that cinched the edges of your eyes. And you told yourself again as you woke your teenage son, who was in the stage of life where he thought he was ten-foot-tall and bulletproof; he’d inherited your sense of sarcasm, as your husband often reminded you.

And you told yourself a third time while you fried sausage links and scrambled eggs. And finally, you told yourself this for the last time when your husband rushed into the kitchen, panicking because he'd overslept and would be late for work again. He'd barely stopped to acknowledge the breakfast spread on the table. He shoved a triangle of toast into his mouth and then was out the front door without so much as a goodbye.

The next few hours blurred together as you finished getting the twins ready for kindergarten while your teenage son protested having to go to school at all, claiming it was stupid, pointless, and useless. Somehow, by some miracle or divine intervention, you managed to get them all ready and to school on time. But that brought you to your current predicament.

There, sitting on the kitchen counter, was the lunch you'd so lovingly packed for your son. You felt your blood boiling with annoyance, your brain skipping between letting him go hungry or taking it to him. But no matter how mad you were, you couldn't let him starve.

So you drove back to the school, fifteen minutes away, for the second time. A little bell rang as you shoved the door open, which drew Lotti's attention from where she sat behind the front desk. She smiled as you approached.

"Let me guess, Corey forgot his lunch again?"

Her lips were tipped into a kind smile, one that mirrored your own tired expression. You hummed with dry amusement before placing the brown paper bag on the counter. "Walked right past it. I swear sometimes he does it on purpose."

"Sounds about right. Teenagers right?"

"You’re telling me. Can you make sure it gets to him before lunch?"

"Of course."

"Thanks, Lotti," you said with a smile before stepping away from the counter. You had every intention of leaving and going to do the weekly shopping, but you stopped when you saw Eddie Munson sitting on one of the waiting room chairs. He was sitting with his head in his hands, hiding his face, but you could see he was pale and clammy.

Most people wouldn't have given him the time of day, but you liked Eddie. He was friends with your son and was always polite and helpful when he spent the night. He would wash up the dishes and play with the twins to give you a much-needed break.

Eddie was a good kid.

He wasn't trailer trash, as some people had taken to calling him. It always infuriated you when you heard them say such vile things about Eddie and his uncle. People were quick to throw stones, but none of them ever took the time to get to know the people they judged.

You gently placed a hand on his shoulder but still startled the poor boy. Eddie jerked back in his seat and stared up at you with big brown eyes, his raised eyebrows hidden behind his wild curls, and eyes glistening with unshed tears. Your heart broke all over again.

"Eddie, baby, what’s going on? Are you alright?"

"I don’t feel well," he answered, his tone dejected with a hint of misery. You lowered yourself into the seat at his side, sliding your hand up and down his back in a comforting way.

"Is Wayne on his way to take you home?"

"No, ma’am."

You internally flinched. Wayne had brought him up to be respectful to his elders and especially to women, and he was, despite his metalheaded persona. But when he called you ma'am you always felt like a frumpy old woman.

"He’s working a double today. He won’t be able to pick me up until after one."

You checked your wristwatch for the time. It was hardly nine in the morning. Eddie would be waiting here for hours, feeling sick, miserable, and uncomfortable. You patted his knee and gave him a soft smile.

"I’ll be right back." You stood and moved back to the counter, smiling as Lotti looked up at your approach.

"Lotti, can you call Wayne for me?"

The beauty of small towns meant that she already knew what thoughts were going through your mind. She dialled the number for the auto shop Wayne worked at and handed you the phone. You listened to the dial tone ring and ring before the line finally picked up.

"Hi Wayne, it’s me."

You worried for a minute that he wouldn’t recognise your voice. You and Wayne went to school together a literal lifetime ago. For a while, you’d been sweet on him, but nothing had come from that schoolyard crush.

"Hey, love, what do you need?"

"Well, I’m at the school. Corey forgot his lunch again, and Eddie’s here in the waiting room. He’s not well, and I was thinking that since you're not able to pick him up, would it be alright if I brought him home? Just for a few hours until he feels better. He can rest in the spare room."

You didn’t know why you felt the need to explain everything in such detail. It wasn’t like you were about to kidnap his eighteen-year-old nephew and drive to Mexico. And given how small Hawkins was, it wasn’t like you could make it that far. You muffle your amused laughter at the thought when you notice Lotti giving you a strange look.

"You can drop him off at the trailer, love. He’ll be alright alone for a few hours."

You looked over at Eddie, hunched over again, hiding his face in his hands, and you knew that that option wasn’t on the table. You’re shook your head a few times before you remembered that Wayne couldn’t see you. "No, no, it’s okay. I wouldn’t feel right leaving him alone when he’s like this. It'll only be a few hours, and then I’ll drop him home when you finish work, okay?"

"Alright, thanks for this."

"It’s what friends are for, Wayne."

Handing Lotti back the phone, you bid her goodbye a second time before going back to Eddie. You place a hand on his shoulder again. He's prepared this time and isn't surprised to find you staring down at him with kind eyes. "Come on, Eddie. I’m going to take you home with me. We’ll get you some water and medicine, and you can rest until your uncle finishes work."

For a minute, it seemed like he's going to protest before he gives in, likely too tired to refuse your kindness. He follows you to the car in silence and doesn't speak for the entire fifteen-minute drive. You glanced at him now and then to make sure he's okay, only to find him asleep with his cheek smushed against the glass.

He's not happy when you gently shake him awake, but he mumbles a thank-you despite himself. Eddie lets you help him inside the house and into the bed in the spare room, which he could have found himself.

Once he was settled beneath the blankets, his dark curls contrasting with the plush white pillows, you went ahead and got him a glass of water and medicine to help him feel better. He was already asleep when you got back, so you left them on the nightstand before going about the rest of your day.

You'd decided that the weekly shopping could wait until tomorrow, which prompted a silly laugh from you while you washed the dishes from breakfast. It was so scandalous that your Monday weekly shop would be done on a Tuesday. That was about the most exciting thing that had happened since the birth of the twins.

The day became a blur as you moved about the house on autopilot. You picked up toys from the floor and put them into the matching trunks at the end of the twins beds, no doubt mixing up which ones belonged to Alice and which ones belonged to Anna. Then you cleaned Corey's room. You groaned when you opened the door only to find a mountain of spoons, bowls, and cups scattered around his computer desk.

You swore if there was an apocalypse and spoons became the world's currency, he’d never go hungry. You washed them next, then put on a load of laundry to wash while you hung out the load you'd put on earlier in the morning.

By the time midday rolled around, you felt like you were actually accomplishing something, which was a strange feeling. Normally, by this time, you'd feel overwhelmed, underappreciated, and drained all at the same time.

Maybe you felt that way because Eddie was still asleep in the guest room. You'd be mortified if he woke up to find your house in such a sorry state. But you didn't need to worry about that now.

You made yourself something to eat—a simple bologna sandwich—and made one for Eddie as well. He'd been in the room for a few hours now, and you imagined he would wake hungry, especially if he hadn't eaten breakfast again. The few times he’d spent the night here during the school week, he’d woof down the pancakes you made as though he were starving.

Wayne worked hard to provide for him, but you could see it was a struggle. You didn’t mind having Eddie over, feeding him, or even donating clothes when his own were beyond repair. Wayne always promised to pay you back, but you both knew that wouldn’t happen. You’d maybe let him work on your car as a favour, but you could never accept money from him.

With a plate in hand, you knocked on the door. Hearing Eddie's soft groans from the other side, you pushed it open, assuming he was awake. The sight that greeted you was not what you were expecting. He was lying on top of the sheets with his dark denim jeans and boxers shoved down his thighs, cock in his hand as he fisted it.

The sight of his heels digging into the mattress and his hips rising to thrust the length of him into his hand made your brain short-circuit, leaving you wide-eyed and open-mouthed. It was only the sound of the plate clattering against the tiles that drew his attention.

"Oh shit, shit!" Eddie shouted as he yanked a pillow to cover himself. You had already turned away, the door slamming shut behind you as you quickly left the room. You pressed your back against the door and covered your mouth with your hand to stifle the sound of your heavy breathing.

You weren't meant to see that.

You definitely weren't meant to see that.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to calm your racing heart, but it didn't help. Images of him flashed through your mind: the bulge of the veins in his forearm as he tugged relentlessly on his cock, how his lips were parted in breathless gasps, and how your name had sounded like Molton Lava falling from his tongue, hot and heavy.

There had been a bead of pre-cum that you'd seen before his thumb moved over it, spreading it along his shaft like lubricant. His chest had risen and fallen with quick breaths as he worked himself into a frenzy, hurtling towards orgasm like a train with its brakes cut.

Had he been thinking about you? Was that why he'd been moaning your name?

Your face felt like it was burning when he knocked on the door, making you almost jump out of your skin. You held the handle tightly to stop him from opening it; you weren't sure you could look him in the eye right now, but he didn't try.

"I’m sorry," he said softly. He sounded sheepish and sincere. "I didn’t mean for you to see that. It’s just... that you're so fucking hot."

You heard him pause and could swear you heard the gears in his mind turning as he tried to articulate his thoughts. It made you feel better to imagine that he was red in the face, blushing with embarrassment more than the impending orgasm he'd been working himself towards.

"Eddie," your own voice was soft and shaking, as were your hands. It wasn't that Eddie wasn't attractive—hell, if you'd been about ten years younger, you'd be riding him just like you'd ridden his uncle in high school. But you were old enough to be his mother, for crying out loud!

"I can leave if you want."

"No! It's not that." You answered quickly—too quickly—with your thoughts moving too fast for you to make sense of them. It had been years since you'd been this flustered. Peter hadn't made you blush in a long, long time. He didn't touch himself while thinking about you.

He didn't love you anymore; your mind graciously and ruthlessly provided.

"What do you want?" Eddie asked in an impossibly soft voice.

"Jesus, Eddie, I don't know!" You shouted through the door. You felt exasperated, confused, and aroused. "I'm old enough to be your mother. And I'm married!"

He had the good grace to be silent, and while you appreciated the moment with your own thoughts, you found them betraying you. You couldn't stop yourself from imagining Eddie, not your husband. His hands on your body, his lips smashed against yours, his breath on your neck, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips so tight while his cock split you open.

You mentally admonished yourself.

We're horny teenagers with mummy issues your type now?

No, it wasn't that.

It was Eddie; he was your type.

Brooding, filled with emotional rage, the personification of a rebel yell. With his dimpled smile, wild curls, studded belts, and rings for days, he was every high school girl's wet dream.

"I'll be your dirty little secret if that's what you're into."

You shouldn't want to open the door. You shouldn’t be excited and dripping wet from having caught him masturbating. You shouldn't want him.

But when Eddie said that, it's the nail in the coffin that sealed your fate.

You stared at him after opening the door. A part of you was expecting to see him wearing a malicious smirk or his typical joking smile, the one that's lopsided and goofy. But that same part of you is ecstatic that he was entirely serious and that he's still hard.

The outline of his cock was prominent against his jeans, straining against the zipper as your eyes roved down his body and up, taking in every inch of him. It must have been the look in your eyes that encouraged him because the next second Eddie kissed you, all teeth, tongue, and male arousal.

He was rough as he grabbed your upper arms, pulling you against his chest and into the room. The bedroom door slammed shut with an awful bang seconds before he’d all but thrown you onto the bed.

You shouldn't have enjoyed being manhandled. You shouldn't want him, but you do.

His kisses were hot. It was like lava pouring into your mouth and free-flowing through your veins until it felt like you were burning alive, your skin aflame wherever he touched. His hands were rough but gentle at the same time, leaving you with emotional whiplash. Eddie grabbed you with urgency, as though you were all that kept him from being engulfed in this wild fantasy.

And as he stripped you, methodically removing each article of clothing until you were naked beneath him, he took the time to appreciate every inch of your body. He didn't seem to notice the way you tried to hide yourself—hands covering the stretch marks and skin left behind after pregnancy, your thighs rubbing together to hide the obvious sheen of arousal. You grab his face between your hands and pull him in for another fiery kiss to stop his eyes from wandering.

The pads of his fingers were calloused from summers of hard work with his uncle in the shop and hours of guitar playing, creating a rough drag against your skin. He fondles your tits, palming them, rolling your nipples between his finger and thumb until they pebble, until you whine against his lips; the sound he pulls from your throat is positively whoreish.

By the time he dragged his hands down your stomach, you were soaked, the slick of your arousal dripping down your backside to dampen the mattress. Eddie mouthed your neck, leaving broad, wet stripes over your racing pulse with his tongue. "You're so fucking hot," he groaned while pulling your thighs apart. You want to be embarrassed, but when his lips close around one of your nipples, embarrassment flies out the window.

You should have felt guilty. Your chest should have been tight and your heart heavy. Instead, all you could feel was the delicious slide of his tongue over and around your nipple and the way his teeth burrowed so faintly into your sensitive flesh.

He paid the same attention to the opposite one, sucking, swirling, and biting until both were hardened peaks that crowned your breasts. When he lifted his mouth, your skin glistened with his saliva, a line of it connecting his lips to your nipple before it settled into place on your stomach. And then he was everywhere—his mouth trailing down your stomach, his lips, his tongue, his palmy breath, even all the places that you hated.

He took his time, each caress of his lips and swipe of his tongue unhurried as he worshipped your body in ways you hadn't realised you’d been craving. He pressed his palms against the inside of your knees, forcing your legs apart as he slotted himself between them. His breath was hot against your bare cunt, which glistened with obvious arousal.

Eddie gave a low whistle that made you blush.

"Stop," you whispered when your eyes met his lust-blown orbs. You tried to bring your thighs together to stifle the growing ache at your core, but he forced your knees apart.

The gasp he tore from your throat with the first touch of his tongue was loud and strangled. Eddie used the tip to lick from your clenching hole to your clit, gathering your arousal and swallowing it down with a lustful moan that vibrated through your cunt. His fingers tightened at your knees, leaving prints behind when he licked you again, making your hips buck hard enough to almost dislodge him.

"Jesus Christ, baby," he breathed out. "Your pussy's so fucking juicy."

It was all he said before his mouth was on you, his tongue pushing through your slick folds and into your clenching hole to drag the arousal from you. He was methodical, making your hips jerk and twitch. It was like electricity had replaced your blood, turning your body into live wires and leaving you a twitching, writing mess as Eddie lapped at your cunt relentlessly.

Maybe it was it’s months and weeks of bottled-up frustrations; maybe it’s was your feelings of inadequacy and insecurities melting away; maybe it’s was the sheer ridiculousness of sleeping with someone other than your husband; whatever the reason, Eddie and his wicked tongue have you hurtling towards climaxing faster than you thought possible.

Eddie grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the bed when you pulled on his hair; his mouth was now the only thing that kept your hips pinned. It was the stab of his tongue into your quivering hole and his nose bumping into your throbbing clit that threw you over the edge.

Not once did he stop, even as heaven and hell clashed violently around you, leaving you crying beneath the assault of his tongue. It started with white-hot lightening sparking to life in your heart and then settled into a static hum behind your ears when you sagged back to the bed. Your bones felt like jelly, and your limbs trembled with each aftershock.

His tongue pushed through your folds again and again, leaving you a whimpering mess, which was music to his ears. He left broad, wet stripes along your lips, your clit, and your hole, drawing your orgasm out much longer than you thought possible.

Eddie kissed you hard while you regained your senses and came back to earth, his lips working over yours while he ran his hands down your sides and gripped your hips tightly. "Felt good, baby?" he cooed. His voice sounded almost mocking as he pushed a hand between your thighs, the calloused tips of his fingers a rough drag against your clit as he gathered your spend to lubricate them.

The noise he drew from you was whoreish. Your eyes snapped shut while your back arched involuntarily. You twisted your fingers around the sheets when the pleasure began to race too close behind your first orgasm, bordering on too much, too quickly.

"Eddie, Eddie, please, I'll die," you managed to gasp out, your voice straining when he pushed two fingers into your clenching hole, making the arch in your back deepen. He kissed your neck, his teeth leaving faint marks behind on your skin. You grab at his hair again and pull it hard to make him stop before he can leave bruises for your husband to see.

"Not yet, sweet girl; you can give me another one."

He made it sound like a question, but he wasn’t asking one.

The drag of his fingers through your slick walls had your mind going blank as he doubled down on you. Your head is thrown back as nothing comes out of your parted lips. Your thighs trembled to the point of cramps as your walls spasmed suddenly around his fingers. You'd never known that your orgasms could crash so close together; it's like ocean waves crashing over sand—it happens once, and then again, and again.

It was like there was a string that ran the length of your body, and it was being pulled tighter and tighter by the prod of his fingers as he curled them and changed the angle until he finally found that spongy sweet spot that had galaxies and stars bursting to life behind your eyes. You back arched until it hurt, then snapped straight as he fingered you through your orgasm.

Only when your body went limp did he pull his fingers from you. The sound of them moving through your soaked folds was obscene, but not as much as the sight of him licking them clean. Eddie brought them to his lips, his devil’s tongue snaking free to greedily lap up your spend with a throaty moan.

You blink at him slowly to clear the blur of tears from your eyes, but more fell each time your lashes swept atop the apples of your cheeks. Eddie smiled smugly before moving to stand at the side of the bed so he could strip himself in a hurry. He threw his jacket and shirt across the room haphazardly and left his jeans and boxers pooled together on the floor. You watched with half-lidded doe eyes as he stroked himself.

He was far bigger than you'd realised before. When you'd walked in on him, it had all happened so fast—you'd seen him but hadn't seen him.

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth and chewed on it while he crawled up the bed to hover over you, his cock bobbing proudly against his stomach with each movement. "Ready, pretty girl?" He asked as he mouthed up the hollow of your throat before capturing your lips before you could answer.

It wouldn't take a genius to understand why he's asking. He was giving you a chance to change your mind, to tell him to stop and preserve whatever modesty and dignity you have left. He was giving you an out, but you were already lost in him. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and dug your heels into the backs of his thighs to bring him closer. The glide of his cock between your slick folds and the way his mushroom head nudged your overstimulated clit, were delicious. You moaned against his lips. Eddie took this as permission and sank into the warm, wet tightness of your cunt with a single thrust, hissing with pleasure as he seated himself fully within your walls.

"So fucking tight for me," he grunted against your lips. His teeth were clenched, and his eyes were screwed shut as he stilled and gave you a moment to adjust to his invasion. Eddie was bigger than Peter, both in length and girth, leaving your brain short-circuiting and sparking. He was pressed against every delicious spot inside your gummy walls, so that it felt like he was pressed against your cervix, and deeper still.

Your lips opened and closed and opened again in silent, breathless moans when he began to move, setting a gruelling pace right from the start. You weren't a virgin; he knew that. He knew he didn't need to go slow or be gentle. He could throw you over the edge and into oblivion and make you scream his name without any preamble.

He took over your world as he fucked you.

The scent of his cologne was deep in your lungs from where your face was buried against the side of his neck, just so you could attack his skin with sweet kisses and blistering bites. Your hands mapped every inch of his skin that you could reach, committing each detail to memory: the faint dusting of freckles over his nose, the slope of his neck, the way the muscles down his back would shift and tense each time he moved, drawing out and thrusting back in with wild intent.

You could feel yourself oozing—a warm trickle of liquid that rolled down your backside only to be lost in the sheets as he fucked you hard enough to make your tits and tummy jiggle. And as he frantically kissed you, desperately trying to keep you from being too loud, you saw the way his jaw tensed and the flush of colour that crept up his throat and into his face. He was steamrolling towards orgasm like a skydiver caught in a free fall, no wind in his sails, no way to stop.

"Eddie, Eddie." It was a whine, a desperate plea, but for what? You couldn't say.

You canted your hips, raising them to meet the piston of his, so that he could drive himself as deep as possible and crash into the spongy sweet spot he'd found earlier. And when he found it, he didn't stop.

Eddie grabbed one of your hips hard enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingers and pinned you hard against the mattress. His other hand snaked between your bodies to find your clit, which was still sensitive and throbbing. Eddie drew tight, quick circles around your nub, punching more and more air from your lungs with each rotation when, out of nowhere, the pressure suddenly becomes too much.

The way all your muscles seize had you suddenly panicked, your walls tightening around him like a vice, earning a hiss of pleasure from his tight-lipped expression. He still didn’t stop. You stare at him wide-eyed, your voice strangled, as you try to articulate the way the pressure is building too fast and moving too far beyond what you understand is normal.

"Ed-Eddie, fuck, s'too much!" You cried out as you threw your head from side to side. Tears fell from your eyes like waterfalls, sliding down your temples and disappearing into your sweat-damp hair. You felt yourself tightening around him. He managed a deep groan at the first sign of your leaking cunt.

You grabbed his wrist wildly, your nails clawing at his skin. Your body trembled violently, screamed at you to make him stop. Your brain begged for more.

Another perfectly aimed thrust of his hips, his cock sliding through your quivering walls, his thumb on your clit changing directions, finally broke you. You threw your head back; your eyes opened wide, but you saw nothing as you screamed. It was like white-hot lightning engulfed your body, setting your world on fire. Lights of red and yellow flashed behind your eyes like a disco dance from hell.

Eddie didn't try to keep you quiet this time. Each drawback and push forwards deluged his cock with liquid. He still didn't stop. His mouth was affixed with awe, permanently hanging open as you drenched him, yourself, and the sheets. "Holy fucking hell, baby, just like that, Jesus... fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He couldn't hold back, even if he'd wanted to. He grabbed you roughly by the hips, keeping you pinned to the mattress as he buried himself. Eddie came hard—harder than he'd ever come before. He felt each rope shoot from himself despite the tremors in his body, and he knew that you felt it too. Your walls were on repeat, gripping him, releasing him, and gripping him again, like a record stuck on repeat.

There was relief in his eyes when he slumped forwards, his chest pressing tight against yours. He brushed his face into the crook of your shoulder, curls tickling at your skin as he laughed breathlessly. "I didn't know you could do that," he muttered against your dewy skin, tasting your sex-sweet sweat.

"I didn't know I could do that."

#haunted hoedown #hauntedhoedown #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader

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starrymako · 1 year

Photo

Some adult designs for my absolute favs.. hehe (Mostly related to my own lil AU of Tweek x Craig’s future!)

I spent a lot of time working on them! probably my biggest project yet, haha. I had so much fun designing! I really wanted to keep their signature colors so I did my best!

Here’s some information about each character I have thought of while designing them! (adding below the cut)

Tweek Tucker

27 | 5′7 | Manager of Tweek Bros. Coffee | Happily Married

Tweek has been the manager of Tweek Bros. Coffee since graduating high school. He worked hard in order to help support his and Craig’s bills while Craig focused on his engineering studies. (Both wanted to move out quickly and be on their own instead of living at home.)

Tweek is extremely close with Tricia, the two frequently text each other / make plans to hang out. He even hired her to work at the coffee shop when she needed to make extra money during school!

When he’s not working at the coffee shop, Tweek writes and records his own music from home. He has a large following on social media for his music! (I hc he writes love songs based on his relationship with Craig.)

He became obsessed with self-care after Bebe, Wendy, Nichole, and Tricia introduced him to skincare routines during high school. He was one of the few boys who had the best complexion.

(Tweek also started wearing cherry flavored lip balm around this time.. Craig likes the flavor when they kiss LMAO)

Tweek paints his nails to avoid biting them, but he still bites them during his most anxious days.

He managed to cut back on coffee significantly after high school, and is able to sleep better because of it. (Also because he and Craig sleep better together in their very own bed!)

Tweek has a picture of Craig in his engineering suit hanging in the Tweek Bros. coffee shop next to his grandfather.

Craig Tucker

27 | 6′1 | aerospace engineer | Proud Husband

Craig decided to study engineering in order to work for NASA after college. For awhile, he felt guilty about Tweek working long hours at his parents coffee shop in order to support them. However, with the encouragement from Tweek and his family, Craig made it a point to study hard and later return the favor after graduating.

Craig proposed to Tweek almost immediately after high school, but the two didn’t get married until Craig graduated from college. They managed to save enough money for a decently sized venue and

On lunch breaks, Craig likes to send flowers to Tweek Bros. to surprise his husband.. Though Tweek gets frustrated because he always does this during rush hour at the shop.

As much as Craig likes to fluster Tweek by buying gifts, he’s always blindsided by Tweek serenading him when he gets home from work.

In his free time, he likes to build things for their three guinea pigs at home, or work on his motorcycle.

Craig keeps a picture of Tweek in his engineering suit and brags about his husband to his coworkers.

Craig still makes time to hang out with Clyde, Tolkien, and Jimmy on his weeks off.

Wendy Testaburger

27 | 5′5 | Harvard Alumni | The Smart One

Wendy first studied in Denver after high school, but later finished her P.HD at Harvard. She broke up with Stan during high school and has been focusing on herself and her education since.

Wendy frequently returns to South Park to visit her friends and family. She is still considered as Bebe’s best friend and the two are almost always hanging out.

Wendy was asked to be a bridesmaid at Tweek and Craig’s wedding and played a huge part at organizing the venue.

(One day Tweek called her frantic and stressed out over planning, and she made it a point to find the perfect venue / organized guest lists and whatnot so Tweek could catch a break.)

She takes pride in her appearance, and is probably the most elegantly dressed in her friend group.

Nichole Daniels

27 | 5′4 | Competitive Gamer | Social Butterfly

Nichole is a social media personality who focuses on beauty, video/board games, and the environment. She goes to school to eventually work in marketing!

Nichole attends various gaming events in both South Park and Denver, and her teammates consider her to be the most compassionate (and competitive) player.

(Eric Cartman is her biggest hater, but she easily floors him in every game they decide to play at their local game center.)

Nichole was one of the few who stayed in South Park during her first few semesters in college. She decided to stick with community college to get her basics done while also managing her social media. It worked out well and she was able to save a lot of money for university.

I hc Nichole being that super smart, pretty, and friendly student who gets good grades without trying. LOL

Nichole becomes friends with Tricia Tucker during high school since she always came with Tweek to Wendy’s or Bebe’s house. The two like to go jogging together in the mornings.

Tricia Tucker

23 | 5′9 | Barista | Pilates Queen

Tricia is the tallest girl on her volleyball team during high school and is later given scholarships to play professionally in college. She is very athletic and is almost always seen wearing her leggings and sneakers around town.

She is almost always seen with a resting bitch face, however is always smiley around Tweek or her best friend, Karen McCormick. (They are also the only two she frequently texts on a daily basis.) Craig gets annoyed sometimes when he comes home from work to find Tricia on his couch talking to Tweek.. especially if it’s on a night where they have a date planned.

Tricia works at Tweek Bros. Coffee during the summers, mainly because she likes spending time with her brother-in-law and also because it’s a lax job. LOL

She is the literal queen of sarcasm. Any snide remark that comes her way, she retorts with an even bigger insult.

Tweek had to scold her a few times for treating rude customers bad.. even though he finds it funny when they are taken aback by her comments.

Bebe Stevens

27 | 5′6 | Makeup Artist | Complete Diva

Bebe works as a makeup artist for various clients. She can pull off literally any look her customers desire. She is always on Coonstagram posting her artistry and has over a million followers both there and on TikTok.

Tweek considers Bebe his best friend, and she was chosen as his maid of honor for his wedding. She helped him pick out dresses and makeup looks for the bridesmaids.

The morning of his wedding, he was so distraught over his skin looking paler than usual (due to stress) and Bebe saved the day by giving him a natural look.

Bebe is the main reason why Tweek became passionate for skincare / taking better care of his body. (Aside from Craig, but Bebe had a hands on solution for Tweek to use himself.)

Bebe has an on and off relationship with Clyde throughout high school, but as adults she discovers she truly loves him and they eventually get together permanently.

She’s also a supportive gf and wears shoes from Clyde’s shoe store in her instagram posts, tagging him and sharing business.

Bebe switches her style a lot, especially if trends change. She favors a more alternative look for the most part.

Clyde Donovan

27 | 5′6 | Business Owner | Professional Crybaby

Clyde went to college for business and advertising in order to gain experience and knowledge in being a business owner, though slacked off way more than he should have in the beginning. Jimmy and Tolkien had to knock some sense into him when he almost flunked out of college because of his bad grades.

He brought them up, though! And managed to get a business degree.

Clyde dated several girls out of college, (most of them suspiciously looking or acting similar to Bebe..) but the relationships never went anywhere. He was almost always looking at Bebe’s Coonstagram feed for updates in her life, despite the two talking every week.

Eventually, they hang out again in person while Bebe is in town and the two get together again later on.

He used to get annoyed when people called him chunky in school, but later grew indifferent after playing football and getting praise for being the best quarterback on the team.

He definitely has the “I peaked in high school” vibe when he brags about his high school football scores.

Clyde sometimes helps Craig work on his motorcycle if Craig helps him with his car troubles. haha

Jimmy Valmer

27 | 5′7 | Comedian | Beef King

Jimmy majored in fine arts and traveled the country doing comedy skits. Throughout his time in college and travels, Jimmy had several partners and was widely known as a heart throb. He can charm anyone with his witty remarks and jokes.

Jimmy is close friends with Timmy and returns to South Park to visit him on regular holidays.

Jimmy, Timmy, Tolkien, Clyde, Craig, and Tweek used to work out together, but Clyde eventually stopped going after high school and Craig would get mad when Jimmy benched heavier weights than him in petty contests. (Though Craig isn’t malicious, but Jimmy made him look the fool several times in front of Tweek, which embarrassed him.)

Jimmy is packin’ all the muscle and isn’t afraid to show it.

Jimmy and Tricia form an unlikely bond during the preparations for Tweek and Craig’s wedding. She even helped Jimmy come up with the best witty remarks during his speech in case Craig came up with a snarky response.

Tolkien Black

27 | 6′3 | Criminal Justice Major | The Voice of Reason

Tolkien studied criminal justice in university and graduated at the top of his class. He played college football on the side while also being part of several clubs in the process. He is considered a well rounded student with high goals and ambitions.

Tolkien stopped dating Nichole after high school due to their difficult schedules clashing, and being long distance. The two remained close friends afterwards, and always make time to catch up if they see each other back home in South Park.

Tolkien still has deep feelings for her, especially since she’s become so independent and carefree during their time apart. (If he’s in the area and Nichole has a game tournament, he attends to cheer her on like the simp he is. LOL)

Craig, Tolkien, Tweek, and Jimmy have a particular interest in reading and have their own little book club of fantasy / sci-fi related books they exchange to read.

Tolkien won’t admit it, but he enjoys reading fantasy romance novels and poetry.

Tolkien is the only friend out of Craig’s group who actually gives good advice. When Craig and Tweek or Bebe and Clyde fight, Tolkien is always the one who points out where the issues start.

Though, despite giving good advice, he has a hard time listening to his own advice. LOL

#my art #south park #south park fanart #tweek tweak #craig tucker #sp creek #wendy testaburger #nichole daniels #tricia tucker #bebe stevens #clyde donovan #jimmy valmer #tolkien black #sp clybe #tweek x craig #craig x tweek #clyde x bebe #south park adult designs #spcreek

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 6 days

Text

In Mourning - Takes place after the events of Jailhouse Love. @rius-cave Prison Au

If you haven't read Jailhouse Love already there are minor spoilers.

Adam stood there, the wind passing over him with the bouquet of random flowers in his hand. He felt numb, but after how long it took to find this place he couldn't back down now, it was too important. Mentally and emotionally for him, he had to do this, he had to be here.

Adam wasn't alone, Lucifer was waiting back in the car for him. He had asked him to stay back and that he needed to do this part on his own.

Reluctantly, Lucifer let him, he watched the brunette walk away down the rows of tombstones. For the beautiful sunny day, it was a rather grim one.

Adam and Lucifer spent a lot time online trying to find where Adam's biological parents were buried. Sera wouldn't even as much tell Adam their names. The only reason he knows what they looked like was because of a photo he found tucked away of the three of them when he was just a newborn baby.

He looked like his mother, she had long brown wavy hair, brown eyes, and a wide smile, she was also very tan. His father had black hair and blue eyes, he wore thick rimmed glasses and was more on the pale side.

Adam was bundled up in a blue blanket with a yellow bonnet on his head sleeping in the photo.

They looked so happy.......

Adam took a deep breath, he stared down at the tombstone in front of him, his chest felt tight.

Mary Marie Kadmon

1963 - 1993

Joseph Adam Kadmon

1960 - 1993

Adam Steven Kadmon

1993 - Lost

Adam felt bile rise in his throat at the sight of his own name on a tombstone. Part of him wished he had of died with them, that way they could have still been together as a family.

He set the flowers down and sat in front of the stone, knees to his chest and arms holding them. "Hi mom, hi dad. It's me, Adam." Adam tried to smile but it wobbled until he frowned, his eyes wet. "This is fucking stupid, they can't hear me." He placed his phone with their photo on the tombstone, it didn't help like he thought it would.

His heart ached, tears fell down his cheeks.

What kind of people were they? What would his life be like if they lived? Who would he be? Would he have had siblings?

He likely wouldn't have met Lucifer that's for sure.

Adam put his face in his arms and cried silently, mourning for the family he would never have or know.

"Adam?" A hand came down on his shoulder making Adam jump. "Shit, sorry!"

Adam clenched his shirt, heart racing. "Damn it Luci, you scared the shit out of me." He needs to put a fucking bell on his husband.

Lucifer sat down beside him. "You've been here for nearly 30 minutes, I wanted to see how you were doing."

He's been sitting here crying that long? Fuck. Adam sniffed and sipped his face on his sleeve. "Sorry."

"Don't be, take all the time you need." Lucifer wrapped an arm around Adam's shoulders and pulled him close. No one was here, Adam wouldn't care. They both looked forward at the picture. "You look like her."

Adam hummed in agreement.

"Do you think they would have liked me?"

Adam thought about it for a moment and yeah, they probably would like Lucifer. You know, save for the murder charge that landed him in prison.

No one's perfect.

"She would probably like you right away."

Lucifer tilted his head. "And him?"

Adam smirked. "Probably have to give you a hard time just for fun, but yeah he'd like you."

"So like you then?"

Adam flicked his gaze up to his husband for a second before looking away again. "Maybe."

"I know they would have loved you Adam." Lucifer placed a kiss in Adams hair. "I wish I could have met them."

Adam leaned more into Lucifer. "Yeah, me too."

#adamsapple #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #spoilers #jailhouse love #angst

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staycait · 1 year

Text

A Simple Wish.

(Modern AU) Scaramouche x Fem!Reader

"I'd die for you to see you happy." "But what if you're the only person who makes me happy?"

I Bet on Losing Dogs - Mitski

JOIN MY SERVER FOR FREE ROBUX AND PRIMOGEMS!!!!

And so came the wedding day. Scaramouche wearing a beautiful black suit, with a red tie and a white shirt underneath. He was waiting impatiently for the wedding to start, and most importantly, you.

Here comes the bride starts playing on the piano. He immediately looked across the aisle to finally take a look at you with your beautiful wedding gown.

You looked stunning. You were gorgeous. Absolutely majestic. Your beautiful white bride gown fit you so perfectly and the veil covering your face made Scaramouche want to take it off of you more and kiss you passionately.

You held your bouquet of flowers, white roses, baby's breath, and tulips.

Needless to say, Scaramouche was just stunned and speechless by your beauty. He had always dreamt of this moment, and he really couldn't believe this was happening right now. You walk through the aisle and towards Scaramouche. Klee and Qiqi being the flower girls and spreading them across the red carpet.

You finally get face-to-face with Scaramouche. Both of you facing each other as the priest announces the wedding ceremony starts right now. You and Scaramouche's heart starts to pound faster. You couldn't help but smile at the moment, and so could he.

"Scaramouche, do you take (name) for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do."

"(Name), do you take Scaramouche for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"...I do."

"You may now kiss the bride!" The priest announces.

Scaramouche takes off the veil off your face and holds you by your waist before kissing you passionately and sweetly. The audience applauding as you both kiss for what seems like an eternity.

...

Scaramouche woke up from his dream. Oh. It was just a dream.

He slept beside you the whole time in the uncomfortable hospital bed, holding you in his arms. He looks at the ring he proposed to you with and smiles. He looks at your resting face, an oxygen mask over your mouth. He gently caresses your hand and wakes you up.

You open your eyes and see Scaramouche staring at you lovingly. You can't help but smile like how you did in his dream.

"How was your sleep?" He asks as he moves his hand to caress your head.

"..It was okay." You rest your head on his chest.

"Mmh." Scaramouche smiles at you. Currently enjoying this moment, but the smile on his face disappears as the thought of losing you at any moment right now floods his mind.

"Kuni...? Are you okay..?" You were worried for him. Even though you should be worried for yourself. The way his thoughts seem to be right about the fact he could lose you at any moment infuriates him. Right until he hears your voice, he calms down.

"I am. You're too sweet for this world." He pinches your cheek and he chuckles. You laugh with him as he pinches your cheek.

"Kuniii, I have just one simple wish."

"Well, what would that wish be my love?"

"Kiss me."

His eyes widen. No, he wants to kiss you obviously. But he can't. You have an oxygen mask over your mouth and removing it is highly dangerous.

"I would love to but-"

"Then kiss me."

You pleaded him. You were desperate.

"I'd rather die while I kiss you, you know? I'd die for you to see you happy."

"But what if you're the only person who makes me happy?"

"..."

Silence. You didn't know what to respond with that. It made you happy knowing your presence alone makes him happy. But you didn't know what to say.

"I don't want to lose you, and if you die, I want it to be peaceful. I don't want you to go through an agonizing pain. Please.." His voice when he said please sounded hoarse, like he was gonna cry. "I don't want you to die. Please, stay with me?"

"I'm sorry, I love you."

"I love you more, but answer the question, please."

"...You know you're a puppet Kuni.. I'm a human. You can't just possibly-"

"I don't care! I just want you to stay with me. Please. Please please please... Don't leave me.."

"I'm sorry.."

You both started crying and he held you tighter in his arms. He gently kisses your forehead.

"A-About my wish.."

"I don't want you gone any sooner."

"I want to die happy. And seeing you happy makes me happy."

Scaramouche sighs and moves his hand from your waist to grab your chin and look up at him.

"I don't want to lose you so soon." He shakes his head.

"What if I suddenly die an agonizing death because of this stupid illness? Wouldn't it be sweeter to die as you hold me in your arms and kiss me the most passionately I've ever had in my life?"

"I know. I just don't want you gone. I won't be able to move on from you. Please, don't be my fourth betrayal." Scaramouche pleads.

"But you'd be betraying me if you didn't fulfill the very last wish I'd wanted in my life, right?"

"You're so stubborn. But I love that about you. I... I love you with my entire being, (name)."

You bring a hand up to his face and wipe the tears off his face. "I love you too, Kuni. I always will. I love you with my soul."

Scaramouche brings an arm back to your waist.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. It would be the most peaceful."

"What would I tell the doctors?"

"Just tell them it flat lined. Because that would really be what would happen, won't it? So just ignore the heart monitors sounds and kiss me, put your whole life and heart into it."

Scaramouche, he hesitantly puts a hand over your oxygen mask. He moves his face closer to yours and sees you smiling and blushing like a little girl. Seeing how happy you are and how you really wanna go through with this, he removes the oxygen mask and kisses you passionately, for the last time in your life. And for the last time, he would ever kiss anybody at all.

An entire minute passes, tears flow down your face as your lungs feel heavy and tight. But you were crying mostly from pure joy from this. Scaramouche moves his free hand to the back of your head and caresses it, then he gently moves your head towards him to deepen the kiss.

You struggle to keep your eyes open, you didn't want to close your eyes. But your own eyes and life was giving up on you. You both continue on with the kiss.

Scaramouche sobs for the first time again in years as he hears your heart monitor flat line.

PLEASEEE JOIN MY SERVER I BEGG YOYUUU

#genshin #genshin impact #scaramouche #scara #kunikuzushi #kabukimono #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin scara #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader

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fabseg-reader · 3 months

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Miraculous AU: Yandere Twins Au - Amenath/Nathalie and Amélie (Yandere Amélie)

I've imagined a scene between Nathalie and Amélie. I thought about a fan-concept about Amélie, Felix's mother, being a Yandere.

It happens in an AU. In this AU, Amelie is lovesick of Nathalie.

There are two versions: the minicomic (up) and the fanfic (bottom).

The sketch art and the story (below) are mature: they contain bondage, undressing, sensuality moment, drug mention and toxic yuri (not really consent).

The story:

When Nathalie begins to wake up, a familiar and feminine voice calls her.

???: Already awaken, Nathalie ?

Nathalie: Huh ? Émilie ?

???: Nearly. But not really. Watch by yourself.

Nathalie opens her eyes and she sees Amélie who is smiling in front of her. The blonde woman is dressed in lingerie, wears a rabbit-themed headband, black gloves and latex boots and holds a whip.

Nathalie recognizes her own whip. She held that when she was an treasure huntress/archeologist.

The bed (it's Nathalie's bed) is covered of special decorations: pink flowers, roses, flower petals and red and pink heart papers.

Nathalie feels uncomfortable about the situation: she understands she has her arms and legs get tied/roped or handcuffed. She realizes too she is just dressed in lingerie too (and she has an exotic flower at her right ear).

Amélie feel happy when Nathalie looks at her.

Amélie: Did you sleep well, Sleeping Beauty ?

Nathalie feels confused. She has a bit of sensation of spinning (hangover ?).

She remembers she had suddenly fallen into sleep after drinking a cup of tea Amélie had offered to her while the two women were sitting at the garden. The last thing Nathalie had seen before was Amélie held her in her arms. The aristocrat woman expressed to her a malicious smile before the black out.

Now, she understands Amélie drugged her. She wants explanations.

Nathalie: What the hell happened to me, Mrs. Graham ? And what have you done to me ?!

Amélie: I just take care of you, this evening.

Nathalie: What is this madness ?

Amélie: I won't talk about madness when I can talk about love.

Nathalie (disturbed): Love ?

Amélie giggles. She moves her left hand and caresses the Nathalie's cheek. When she puts back the hand on her own cheek, she suddenly becomes exalted.

Amélie: Yes. I love you, Nathalie. I'm in love with you since 15 years. ❤

These words astonish Nathalie causing her to blush. ��

Amélie: During a long part of my life, I searched the perfect lover and I've found you: Nathalie Sancoeur, my perfect wife. Colt was a foolish guy and he was too disgraceful for me. A true monster. I needed a plan to destroy him once and all. And save my Felix too.

Nathalie(worried): You murdered... your husband ?! 😮

Amélie: Just self-defense. But Gabriel was a fool and a monster too. I'm glad my son and my nephew can make their happiness.

Nathalie still remembers Gabriel was Monarch the Butterfly supervillain. He became obsessed about Miraculouses he lost his humanity. After being healed from her magic disease, she has resignately accepted to keep the secret away from Adrien (alongside with Ladybug).

Nathalie: Do you plan to eliminate me ?

Amélie giggles.

Amélie: No. No. I can't do it to you, Nathalie. I said I love you too much. ❤

Nathalie: And your son Felix ?

Amélie: I am sure my beloved son and his girlfriend Kagami will accept you and my good Adrien plus his girlfriend in the new family I want to compose.

Nathalie: And why me, Mrs. Graham ?

Amélie: Because You look too sweethearted, Nathalie. ❤

Nathalie blushes about Amélie's words but she still troubled. The first thought the bodyguard woman has is: To reason Mrs. Graham de Vanily to free her.

Confident about her escape plan, she begins to play her game.

Nathalie (feigning to be polite): Can you loosen my ties, Mistress Graham ? Please ? 🌼

Amelie laughs.

Amélie: Sorry, Nathalie. But I can't let you go. Not yet. ❤

Nathalie: What do you mean ?

Amélie: I will release you when you will name me by my name. Not Graham nor Fathom nor Lady nor Mistress.

Nathalie: Amélie ?

Amélie: Yes. Nathalie. From now you will call me like that. ❤

Nathalie calmly breathes.

Nathalie: Mrs. Amélie, I must say you... 🌼

The blonde woman suddenly makes a whiplash with the whip silenting Nathalie and making her close the eyes. The latter woman opens the eyes and sees she hasn't any damage. But only the flower from her ear was fallen into pieces because of Amélie's whiplash.

Amélie: Forgive me, honey. I don't want to harm you. I hate to damage beautiful flowers. 🌼

The situation isn't okay for Nathalie. She had underestimed Amélie. She didn't know the latter can be lovesick. And now, she understand this woman is unpredictable.

Next, Amélie's angelic face evolves into a darker tone. She licks the whip and poses as a dominatrix. She reminds of a Femme Fatale. That's worrying Nathalie. 😈

Amélie (dark and sadistic tone): Say. My. Name. 😈

Nathalie (a bit of intimidated, shouting): Huh... Amélie. Amélie ! 😰

Next to Nathalie's answer, Amélie changes her evil expression into an exalted/sensual tone. She feels at the height of excitement.

Amélie (exalted): Good, Nathalie. ❤

Right after, the blonde woman throws the whip puts her hands on Nathalie's cheeks and... kisses her on the lips. 💋

Nathalie slightly blushes because of Amélie's kiss. This situation is a Déjà Vu. 😳

That isn't the first time Nathalie falls in a situation. She remembers Émilie, Amélie's twin sister.

When Émilie was alive (before the Miraculouses' discovery), this woman had already confessed her feelings to Nathalie in the same way as Amélie is actually confessing her. Gabriel was never aware about this thing.

Now, Amélie is seducing her. Without another choice, Nathalie understands the evening with Amélie will be more longer than she expected.

The End?

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #dark au #nathalie sancoeur #amelie graham de vanily #amenath #yandere amelie #my writing #my art #minicomic #miraculous fanfic #toxic yuri #seduction #kiss scene #suggestive #femslash #wlw #yandere twins au #no kids allowed

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the-heartlines · 4 months

Note

I’m going to binge your fics tonight. Is there any ones you’re super duper proud of that I should start with?

this is the sweetest ask ever! and oh me oh my am i ever proud of a lot of them :)))

one love, two mouths (rhaegon stuck in a blizzard the other with sober aegon and rhaenyra who abandoned him 5 years prior until their father's death brings them together after aegon goes to rehab to get clean...let's just say they deal with their issues together 😉😉😉) it's 13K and my fave fic i've written

suffocator (aegon fucks prisoner of war rhaenyra in front of her son's heads on pikes...and there is a brilliant twist in the end if i do say so myself) is my fave dd:dne fic i've written. i'm even thinking about writing a sequel to it 👁️🫦👁️!

hypnos (dd:dne—rhaegon au where stalker aegon kidnaps nyra) has a special place in my heart because it was the first true dd:dne fic i've ever written

cherry wine (dd:dne—sapphic rhaegon—rhaenyra gives her little sister wine and scissors her on her and daemon's kitchen counter top 😏)

dragon seer; seared by sunlight (helaemond) might be the most poetic and beautiful fic i've ever written. helaena decides to take her autonomy back and pay her little brother a divine visit.

golden and glorious dragonfire (dd:dne—rhaenyra survives sunfyre's fiery wrath and aegon becomes completely obsessed with her, threatening to maim/kill aegon the younger if she doesn't comply!)

naked and clean and bloodless again...and mine (dd:dne with somno—my first helaemond fic i ever wrote inspired by cesare x lucrezia'a final scene and line aemond drugs helaena and murders aegon next to her sleeping for then noncons her next to her husband's corpse covered in blood!)

who is the lamb? who is the knife? (dd:dne—rhaegon with older brother aegon and daemyra, ritualistic hunting au where rhaenyra comes of age and will be hunted to see who claims her as their sweet delicious spoils) very big brained of me i must say! i need to start chapter 2 aka the start of the hunt

my werewolf fics: the second son's curse (maegor x rhaena and helaemond—helaena finds a journal with accounts of the second son and his niece and decides to pull the same stint with another second son ;)...major flowers in the attic vibes with maegor x rhaena in this one!) and this flesh has needs (sapphic jacegan—cregan hunts her fair maiden under the light of the blood moon, seeking and smelling her blood, with a need to claim her as HERS.) these are my two most underrated fics in my opinion. and two im MOST proud of!

slivers of silver has my fave ships of hotd everrrr (sequel to one love, two mouths—rhaegon x helaemond with aegon fucking rhaenyra as she eats out hel while hel gives aemond a blowjob!)

tethered by bloodties (dd:dne—aemondhaera—aemond marries his niece jaehaera...helaemond crumbs as always and there is a sweet surprise twist that i was aching to reveal in the tags but i don't want to spoil!)

i'm your only saving grace in this colossal black (dubcon rhaenicent—queen rhaenyra gives her prisoner stepmother a bath and some other things hehe aka alicent in her queen in chains era)

devour her whole (dd:dne—uncle cregan with his niece jace—he corners her in the bathroom and finds out she's on her period...he's a nasty piece of work!)

WHEW this was a LOT but i'm proud of how far i've come as a writer fr fr! hopefully this helps!!!

#asks #fic recs #hotd fic #house of the dragon #rhaegon #helaemond #jacegan #my writing #fics

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chromietriestowrite · 20 days

Text

Wildflower | KNJ

Pairing : Namjoon x gn!reader

Genre : fluff, slice of life, husband!namjoon, non-idol!au

Summary : On a beautiful Sunday morning, you and your husband pick out flowers to make crowns.

Word count : 2.6k

a/n : fluffy comfort drabble. Namjoon is adorable. This is my first BTS fic. English is not my first language. Enjoy !

You woke up to the feeling of the sun warming up your skin. Your eyes fluttered open as you welcomed the morning light seeping through the white curtains. You smiled listening to the soft breaths of the man behind you, holding you delicately, an arm draped over you, hand resting on your lower stomach.

You turned to face your sleeping husband, moving quietly so as to not wake him and took the time to admire him. How his soft obsidian hair fell over his closed eyes, long eyelashes delicately kissing his cheeks. How the sun shined on his tan skin. With fondness, your eyes traced the line of his long charming nose, stopping at its cute little button. Your eyes followed down to his soft supple lips, waiting to be kissed.

As he slept, his breathing even, you could see a small smile crawling its way on his face, which made his adorable dimples appear. It warmed your heart, the love you had for him beaming out of you as you watched him sleep peacefully.

You finally got up, put on your favourite fluffy pyjamas and headed to the small kitchen.

Your cottage was a simple one, made of one main room separated to your bedroom by a sheer snow-white chiffon curtain you had embellished with embroidered flowers. The living room held three cotton white walls decorated by bookshelves and various craft items you had created over the years.

Your absolute favourite space was the book nook you had installed under large windows. Adorned by fairy lights, homemade scented candles and a beautiful terrarium your beloved had made. A soft mattress and fluffy pillows made it the perfect space for you to escape to your latest fantasy novel, or work on your crochet projects while your husband was deep in a literary book or writing poems and lyrics, letting his brain flow naturally.

A light blue accent wall painted with white clouds and a bright moon was the home of a piano and music equipment for your husband to write and compose. Oftentimes, you would find him lost in his work, focused eyes, teeth biting his inner lip as he typed away, breath heavy. You loved those moments when you got to be with him while you both worked on your own projects, enjoying the peaceful domesticity.

Waking out of your contemplation, you found your way to the kitchen to prepare a special Sunday breakfast. Just as you were finishing up, you heard a yawn, followed by featherlike footsteps coming in your direction. You turned to see Namjoon approaching you, hair tousled from sleep, eyes half opened, a sloppy grin on his face, dimples greeting you lovingly. You grinned as he came up to engulf you in a big hug, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. You could smell his flowery scent, relaxing instantly in his arms.

'Good morning my love.’

'Good morning Yeobo.' you could feel the smile on his lips as he answered you. 'Smells good, I'm so hungry' he said, his stomach growling in agreement.

'I know, I made crepes!' you said excitedly. Namjoon beamed at that. His hands came to cradle your face 'Do you have any idea how much I love you ?' he asked dramatically. You giggled as he closed the distance between you and kissed you softly.

After a delicious breakfast spent in light conversation and loving touches, you both went to get ready for the day. It was warm and sunny outside, spring gifting you with a delicate weather for your day off. Which meant, you got to put on your favourite spring outfit.

Namjoon came out of the bedroom wearing a simple white tee tucked in loose egg white linen pants.

He had put on the light ivory jacket you had knitted for him. He looked stunning. Of course, he always did, but there was something about seeing him in comfortable light clothes, balancing his obsidian hair and caramel skin that made him look angelic.

'You look so beautiful my love' you whispered, circling your arms around his shoulders bringing him close to you. He looked at you lovingly, caressing your nose gently with his, you could feel his breath on your lips. You closed your eyes, feeling at home in his arms as he closed the distance and kissed you deeply. You melted into the kiss, your hands coming to softly weave in his hair while his hands pressed on the small of your back bringing you impossibly close. Breaking the kiss when you ran out of breath, you were greeted with a wide gummy smile and you took the opportunity to kiss both his dimples.

'Are you ready?' he asked, wiggling his eyebrows to which you nodded excitedly.

You had a little tradition for the first Sunday of each month. No matter what, you would always spend it together and pick a new activity to try.

You would pick an activity to do together. It could be anything but it had to be something that you wouldn't usually do. Last month, you painted flower pots and filled them with each other's birth flowers. They now stood proudly right by the entrance of your cottage.

You hadn't planned it that way, but after a few months of doing this, you realised that you always chose activities where you made something to gift the other. Thanks to that beautiful tradition, you now had so many tributes to the love you shared displayed in your cosy home. You absolutely adored looking at them and in a way, you loved all the empty spaces tool. They represented Sundays to be had and love to be shared. The empty spaces were your future and you couldn’t wait to fill them.

Namjoon had a bright smile this morning leading you outside, a wicker basket in hand. You both walked peacefully to the meadow, holding hands, chatting lightly. The sun was bright, enveloping you in its warm embrace. It was a beautiful morning.

When you got to the meadow, you set off to pick out flowers. Your husband, in all his romanticism, proposed that you would make flower crowns for each other. You absolutely loved wildflowers and was so excited to spend your morning picking them for your lover.

You had started by picking out clematis, Namjoon's birth flower. You then chose flowers in different shades of blue, his favourite colour. You mainly pick forget-me-nots, the very symbol of true love, representing perfectly the aura you wanted to give his crown.

When you were satisfied with the different flowers you had picked out you sat down on the grass, enjoying the sun, watching your elegant husband walking around focused, stopping here and there to pick a flower. When he was done, he came to sit next to you, bumping your shoulder, a big smile plastered on his face.

'You are so beautiful Yeobo. All perfect, surrounded by flowers almost as pretty as you are. I'm so lucky to have you'

You smiled bashfully, cheeks heating up.

'I think I'm the lucky one, my love. I've never been as happy as I have been since I met you.'

'Maybe it's not luck at all,' he said dreamily, taking your hand in his. 'Maybe we’re just meant to be'

'I like that idea' you replied, squeezing his hand.

You stayed lying on the grass for a little while, enjoying the sun, making each other laugh, exchanging tender kisses.

As you got up to go back, you noticed Namjoon had mostly picked purple flowers, your favourite colour along with a few small sunflowers, his favourite flower. Your heart grew and a beaming smile appeared on your face.

When you got back home, you went to prepare two glasses of iced tea, while Namjoon got the supplies ready. He layed out some craft wires, a hot glue gun, some pearls, ribbons and a very large amount of glitter.

He had put on soft music and turned on fairy lights, creating an ethereal atmosphere as you both got to work quietly. You stayed focused, your crowns hidden from the other's view.

You carefully mapped out how you wanted the crown to look. Alternating between large clematis and smaller forget-me-nots. You covered a few bluebells with glitter and put them all around the crown. Attached some ribbons to the ends of the crown to make a cute bow. You were very thorough when you handled the flowers, watchful not to damage them. You put as much love as you had into the making of this crown and you were very proud of the result.

You couldn’t see what Namjoon was doing, but you would sometimes sneak a glance and find him completely enthralled by what was between his hands. You could see the dedication to what he was doing. His focused state making him slouch slightly, while his brows furrowed and a cute pout appeared on his heart shaped lips. You knew he was determined to make this the most beautiful crown he could while also focusing on not ruining his meticulous work with his clumsiness.

You cleaned the table when you were both satisfied with your work, then proceeded to go outside, sitting on the bench swing by the cherry tree at the back of your garden.

You sat legs folded, facing each other, your fists levelled to decide who would be sharing their work first. Much to your delight, your scissors beat Namjoon’s paper. You smiled knowing you would be the first to show your creation. You carefully picked up the crown you had hid behind you on the bench and presented it to your lover.

He beamed when he saw the mix of bright blue flowers, perfectly arranged together and a few clematis here and there embellishing your work of art. A light blush came on his cheeks as he let you delicately place it on his head. He grabbed one of your hands, brought it to his lips to place a tender kiss there.

'I love it, thank you so much Yeobo. This is the most beautiful flower crown.'

'A perfect match for the most beautiful human' you answered proudly.

You kissed him quickly before sitting back with a huge smile plastered on your face. 'Now my turn!' you said excitedly. You absolutely adored flower crowns, having so many different ones matching varying outfits for different occasions. You knew this was the reason why Namjoon chose this activity and you were so grateful for it. Not only was it incredibly romantic, but it also meant one of your many crowns would have been handmade by the person you loved most in this world. You didn’t need to see it to know it was already your favourite one.

Seeing you so eager made your husband chuckle. He would do anything to see you so happy and he would bask in your happiness for as long as you would let him. Which would be forever if he had his way. He made you close your eyes which you did happily, waiting impatiently for the moment he would let you see his work. You giggled when he took advantage of your closed eyes to kiss your nose. He then whispered for you to open.

You gasped seeing the flower crown. You were breathtaken. Namjoon had positioned the flowers in the cutest way, each one complementing the next to perfection. You had tears in your eyes seeing the small sunflowers tangled with -your favourite flower-. The crown was beautiful and you told him as much.

He leaned in to put it on your head and you took advantage of that new position to kiss him deeply. He melted instantly into the kiss, cradling your face with one hand while the other came to bring you closer until you were straddling him. Separating when you were out of breath, you stared lovingly into his eyes while your fingers came to lightly trace the soft features of his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, humming softly. You whispered praises to him, thanking him for the crown.

You sat back admiring your beautiful husband and took his hands in yours. ‘I love you more than anything’. He knew that of course, but you would never stop reminding him. And he would never stop saying it back to you, for the rest of your lives.

a/n : Thank you for reading, i hope you liked it! Don't hesitate to give me some feedback.

#namjoon x reader #bts x reader #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x you #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon x gn!reader #knj x reader #knj fic

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