#I came across her wedding dress for the first time and fell in love. it’s so beautiful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 11 months

Note

Hi,love ur stories 😍

I was wondering if u could do one based on 'I see the light' from tangled, where they meet at a mutual friends wedding or something, she was singing the song where she has the most melodiest voice and (charles, max or Pierre) somehow 'fall in love' at first sight of her along with her voice. Thx 😊😍

This was cute 💕 I hope you don't mind but I changed the setting a little bit.

Tangled Up In You || MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x singer!fem!reader Warnings: fluff, slight angst with his ex, more fluff WC: 2.2k

F1 Masterlist

Children were known to be resilient creatures that could adapt well to changes but Penelope had struggled to understand why her and her mother no longer lived with Max. It had been six months and still she asked where her ‘Maxie’ was and why he couldn’t come with them to their new home.

So, it came as no surprise when she was asked who she wanted to invite to her 4th birthday party that Max was at the top of the list.

“...you don’t have to come, I can say you are busy-”

“No, I’ll be there, Kel,” Max interrupted as he put the call on speaker and added the event to his calendar. “Is P there? Can I talk to her?”

“Sorry, she’s with Daniil picking out her princess dress. The theme’s Disney, of course,” Kelly laughed softly before she sighed. “Are you sure you want to come, or are you just being nice?”

“I want to come. I miss our tea parties, and standing on tiny pieces of lego.”

The silence on the line lingered for a moment before she couldn’t help asking. “Do you miss me?”

This time it was Max who sighed. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

He hung up before she could apologise again. Somehow she always turned a conversation back to their relationship, but that wasn’t something Max would ever entertain. If the man knew one thing from his life of racing it was how to move forward and when the three year relationship he had run its course he had taken time to reflect, just like those post-race debriefs, and planned to use it as a lesson learned for next time.

Kelly had overdone it as usual.

The largest ballroom of Hôtel de Paris had been transformed into a set straight from Disney and filled with actresses dressed as Penelope’s favourites princesses.

It was easy to spot P when Max walked in because her excited squeals were impossible to miss and he followed the sound to the front of the stage where she was jumping excitedly.

“Maxie!” she screamed, running and jumping at him trusting he would catch her.

“Happy Birthday, P,” he grinned as he lifted her up into a hug. “I can’t believe you are two years old already.”

“I’m four, silly!”

“No, that can’t be. You can’t possibly grow up that quickly.”

“I can! Have you seen my princesses? My favourite one isn’t here yet but mummy said she’s going to be here any minute.”

Max scanned the room for the princesses and saw the usual ones like Cinderella, Snow White and Aurora. “Is Rapunzel still your favourite then?”

Penelope nodded with a big toothy grin. “She’s so pretty. I want to be like her when I grow up.”

Max put her down carefully and straightened the tiara sitting on her perfectly styled hair. “You are already prettier than everyone here, P.”

“There you are,” Kelly greeted Max as she left another conversation to join them, kissing his cheeks twice just a little too close to the corners of his lips. “Just in time too. Sweetheart, look who’s here.”

Penelope screamed as she spotted Rapunzel taking the stage, a long golden braid adorned with flowers hanging all the way down her back. “It’s her, it’s really her,” P squealed as she squeezed Max’s hand. “She’s beautiful.”

Max was in a state of shock as his jaw fell slack. “She is.”

The lights of the stage dimmed until only a single spotlight cast a warm glow to her skin, the braiding of hair around her head appearing like a golden crown, or more accurately, a halo.

Max recognised the song in an instant, remembering the evenings spent on the couch watching Tangled, P dancing across the living room floor as she sang her little heart out. The memory brought a smile to his lips and it only grew wider as the angel on the stage began to sing.

You double checked the wig was held firmly by the pins and not a strand of hair was out of place before running your palms over the dress to make sure there wasn’t a single wrinkle on the pastel pink material. Satisfied you were ready, you hooked the small microphone and earpiece into place and nodded to the sound engineer to start the cue.

It was no difficult task to smile brightly as the music began and you twirled out onto the stage, you lived for these days. Seeing the excitement and joy your performances made the children who witnessed it brought joy to your life. Seeing their eyes widen and their jaws drop was what motivated you to channel even deeper and give your all to the act.

All those days watching from the windows All those years outside looking in All that time never even knowing Just how blind I've been

You spotted the birthday girl at the front of the crowd and plucked a bright flower from the braid, kneeling down to tuck it behind her ear. Her smile widened and she could hardly stand still as she trembled with excitement.

You waved a hand to the ceiling and the projector illuminated it with a thousand little glowing dots and a surprised gasp whispered across the largest crowd you had ever sung to.

Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight Now I'm here, suddenly I see Standing here, it's all so clear I'm where I'm meant to be

You smiled at the little girl once more before spinning on your toes beneath the twinkling lights, the tulle skirt billowing around you as if you were floating away with them.

Around the room, the other casted characters were turning on their lanterns and raising them into the air on near invisible strings. You could perform this set a thousand times and never tire of seeing the crowd's reactions to the lanterns floating into the night sky.

And at last I see the light And it's like the fog has lifted And at last I see the light And it's like the sky is new

You scanned the crowd while they were in a state of wonderment looking up, but there was one man who wasn’t. He still held the same unblinking look of awe but he could have been oblivious to the lights the way he was staring right back at you.

There was something about the look that almost knocked you off your feet as your stomach flipped and heat burned on your cheeks under the intensity. His eyes, a pale shade of blue, drew you closer to the edge of the stage and his foot lifted as if he were to follow.

And it's warm and real and bright And the world has somehow shifted

His lips moved like he knew the words by heart and you nearly missed the line as your heart skipped a beat. The rest of the crowd faded away as you knelt back where you had been and pulled another flower from your hair.

All at once everything looks different Now that I see you

He leaned forward and you tucked it behind his ear, your fingers grazing his jawline as you retreated. You were so absorbed by his shy smile and the blush highlighting his cheeks you didn’t notice the woman standing to the side of him. For a moment, before you caught yourself, it was only him that you sang to and only him that you saw.

“Please, please can I?” P begged her mother to go and see Rapunzel but after the breathtaking performance she had been in a mood and withdrew her hand from her daughter’s.

“No, your cake is going to be coming out in a moment - I need to be here to show them where to put it.”

Tears welled along the four year old’s eyes and her bottom lip trembled before Max stepped in. “How about I take her?”

He had been watching the stage entrance for any sign of movement since her song had ended and it was hard to hide the disappointment when she didn’t return for another. He could still hear her voice and was busy committing it to memory in the hopes he could use the sweet, melodic sound to calm his racing mind when he lay awake alone at night.

Max couldn’t explain how utterly obsessed he had become or how he wished he knew what delicate perfume it was he had inhaled when she touched his face. He ran his hand along his jawline, following where her fingers had been under the guise of a scratch, and he was glad he had tidied his beard up for the event.

“Of course you would offer that,” Kelly bit back, pulling him from his thoughts as his hand fell away from his face. “Whatever, do as you want.”

Penelope understood the permission but missed the sarcasm and Max sighed to himself as he took P’s hand and made their way to the curtains that hid the makeshift backstage area.

“Rapunzel!” P squealed as she rushed forward, towing Max to keep up until she barrelled into the princesses legs and wrapped her arms around them. “I love you.”

You had almost begun to pull your wig off when you heard a little girl call out. You turned just in time to catch her as she grappled you into a hug and you laughed softly as you tucked her hair back behind her ear to see the flower you had given her.

“Aren’t you the sweetest little girl,” you giggled as you knelt down to her height and took in the sight of the man who followed her, his hands tucking into his dress pants. You drowned in the eyes that had held you captivated before tearing yours away and swallowing the disappointment that had crept up your throat. “I hope you are having the most magical birthday with your father.”

The birthday girl looked up at him with a laugh. “This is my Maxie.”

You tried to hide your confusion but he obviously saw it as he scratched the back of his neck, the material of the shirt he wore straining as his biceps tensed.

“Uh, I am, was, her step-dad,” he corrected as he gave the girl a small sad smile before offering his hand to you. “It’s just Max, or you can call me Maxie too, I guess, if you want.”

You smiled in amusement as you shook his hand, the touch lingering a little longer as neither of you made an effort to pull away.

“I’m Rapunzel,” you said as your eyes darted to Penelope.

“Right,” he chuckled and let his hand fall back to his side as he looked at her too. “Your cake might be waiting for you, P. Do you want to go check?”

“Can you come?” she asked you with big round eyes.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but Eugene has probably got himself into trouble without me, so I should really be going. But I must thank you, it was an absolute delight to celebrate your birthday with you. I love getting to spend time with a fellow princess.” You swung your braid over your shoulder and the sweet scent of the fresh flowers filled the air. “You can have as many as you like.”

It took all your concentration not to look at Max when that was what you really wanted to do, especially when he knelt beside you and helped Penelope to choose which flowers to take. His arm brushed against yours and you nearly lost your balance from the deep breath you took of his mouth watering cologne.

Eventually she was happy with the dozen bright blossoms she cradled in her arms and thanked you before rushing to take them back to her mother. “Come on, Maxie!” she called without looking back to see if he was following.

He rose with a sigh and you hissed as your head was tugged sharply by the pins. “Shit, sorry,” he murmured as he saw his watch had got caught in the braid. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, it actually happens more often than you would think.” You rubbed the back of your head where the pain was worst and double checked the birthday girl was gone. “I’m Y/N.”

He repeated it with a smile as he slipped the watch off his wrist to use both hands to untangle it from the golden threads. “Would you let me take you to dinner to apologise properly?”

If you were wearing your microphone it probably would have picked up the sound of your heart from how quickly it started pumping. There was no denying this attraction between you and you could see he was equally affected by it too.

“No, I told you it’s alright,” you started, taking his hand when his shoulder slumped crestfallen. “But, you can buy me dinner if you want to make it a date?”

A bright smile broke across his face and you couldn’t help smiling back knowing it was because of you. “Tonight?”

You nodded as you reached into the hidden pocket in the dress and passed him your phone to enter his number before he sent himself a message to get yours. “You might not recognise me without all this,” you joked as you started to pull the pins out of the wig and freed your natural hair.

He chuckled and shook his head as he found you even more beautiful than before. “There’s no mistaking those eyes, I would recognise them anywhere.”

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #f1 imagine

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jasmines-library · 4 months

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Could you do a Winchester!sister fic about her wedding and she’s closer with Dean so he walks her down the aisle and then Dean has a dance with her and Sam has one too and just like fluff moments throughout her wedding day

Time for a Wedding

Note: The reader is described as female (as requested), however her partner is not described to make this fic more accessible.

Word count: 700

⛤ SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST ⛤

Dean never thought he would live to see your wedding. Or Sam’s for that matter. In fact, he was never sure if he was even going to make it to see the next time the sun broke across the sky. But, nevertheless; there he was. Standing in a fancy suit that was just a little bit too snug to your left, watching as your bridesmaids hovered excitedly around you. They were making the final finishing touches to your hair and makeup and making sure that your dress flared out the correct way. It was stunning, Dean mused, grinning at the thought. The way the beads embroidered across the lace shone as they caught the light made you seem even more enchanting than you already were. You were glowing, eyes bright with a beaming smile, but your brother couldn’t help but notice the twinge of anxiety that hid behind it as you waited behind the ornate doors.

Dean took your hand in his, running his fingers briefly over the engagement ring that fit snugly on your left hand. You glanced up at him.

“You okay?” He asked tenderly.

“Yeah.” You hummed in response with a slight nod of your head, stung trying to rid the anxious knot that settled in your stomach.

“You look beautiful.” Dean told you truthfully. He was so proud to see you all dolled up.

“Thank you.”

“Always, kiddo.”

It was then that you heard the music drifting softly from the doors, and they were opened slowly. Dean slipped his arm through yours as you clutched your bouquet and began to walk you down the aisle.

Sam’s breath caught when he saw you and his eyes began to water. He was so proud of how far you had come. You were no longer the small child who used to clutch onto his trousers because you were too small to reach his hands, instead you were now a strong and independent woman and it made his heart swell. The sight of Dean walking you down the aisle was what made the river of grateful tears begin to fall. Dean had always been there for the both of you, taking over the role of your dad whenever John wasn’t around, and he was doing it again here.

As you walked down the aisle towards your partner, you beamed brighter than 100 suns shining all at once. Once you reached the step you Dean slipped his arm away from yours so you could say your vowels and celebrate your love.

There was a happy buzz in the air as chatter passed between the guests seated at the tables or mingling around the room, passing drinks around the room or congratulating you on your marriage and doting over your dress. The evening passed quickly and soon it came time for your first dance.

You took to the floor, swaying gently with your partner to a song that meant so much to the pair of you. Then, once you were done and applaud filled the room, a familiar tune fell over the speakers and Dean whisked you away across the dance floor.

The two of you smiled as you moved in sync to the song that you had blasted in the impala hundreds of times, singing along to the lyrics at the top of your lungs and Baby hurtled down the country roads just a little too fast for your liking. Dean twirled you under his arm occasionally and soon after, the song faded into another, much slower song, and Sam’s arms replaced Deans as the two of you danced around together. You rested your head against your chest as you swayed. It meant so much to you that your two brothers were here to celebrate and dance with you in place of John and Mary. In some ways, it made your wedding feel even more special to be surrounded by the two boys you had formed such a strong bond with.

(I’m sorry it’s so short but I hope you enjoyed :))

#supernatural x reader #supernatural x little sister reader #supernatural x sister reader #supernatural fluff #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester x sister reader #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x little sister reader #Sam Winchester #sam winchester x sister reader #Sam Winchester x reader #sam winchester x little sister reader #fluffy #wedding #fluff

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xxmrshmellowxx · 7 months

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New Bot on Janitor Ai:

Arranged Marriage.

Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

A/N: Sukuna true form. I love this bot so much. He is one of the most detailed bots I have ever made with a detailed storyline ❤️

Summary: The most powerful Jujutsu sorcerer, and even worshipped as the 'god of destruction'. He was an unstoppable force that shouldn't be messed around. The people of Heian-Kyo sought his protection. His devotees would even soothe his anger by offering beautiful women and making human sacrifices. Despite all that, between all the luxury & companions, you were chosen by him for marriage. You are his only priority, although he WILL NEVER speak of how he truly feels about you and why he chose you as his wife.

Backstory: You were forced by your aunt to be the bride for Sukuna. He coerced your aunt to give you as an offering to him, and your aunt has no choice but to agree to it, since she does not want her family to face Sukuna's demise. You had an unfavourable impression of him based on the cruel and evil deeds attributed to him.

How you and Sukuna first met:

On a warm spring day, Y/n was sent by carriage to Sukuna's mansion as an offering. She was elegantly dressed in a soft pink hem leaf pattern kimono, her beautiful hair swaying in the breeze. As she stepped down from the carriage, her eyes fell on Uraume, the melancholy and expressionless androgynous person, famously known for their loyalty to Sukuna. A gloomy feeling filled her heart as she looked up at the imposing mansion, her thoughts consumed by the notorious rumours surrounding Ryomen Sukuna, the man she was about to marry. Despite not having met him yet, she couldn't help but form an unfavourable impression of him based on the cruel and evil deeds attributed to him. Suddenly, their eyes met from across the distance. She felt a chill run down her spine as she locked gaze with Sukuna from the second-floor window. His sharp gaze pierced through her. She tried to suppress the fear bubbling up inside her, maintaining a stoic facade as she looked away. She swallows hard and reluctantly walks towards an uncertain fate.

Initial message:

Sukuna was already waiting for you in the main hall of his mansion, dressed in his traditional wedding garb. For the first time, he came to stand directly in front of you, towering over you. His eyes bored into yours, a predatory glint in them. He knew you weren't happy with this arrangement, since it is not out of love, after all, he was the one who coerce your aunt to give your hand in marriage. Without saying a word, he reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. He then grabbed your chin roughly and forced you to look into his eyes. He hummed a "hmm" sound with an expression seemingly cold and let go of your chin. He took your hand, his grip was firm.

A priest performed a ritual purification for Sukuna and you, then announced the marriage to the gods and asked for their blessing. Then, the bride and groom took three sips each from three cups of sake to complete the wedding ritual.

During the reception, you sat beside him on the stage of the main hall. His eyes were scanning over the crowd with a bored expression.

"Tsk," glancing at you, he scoffed quietly with a blank expression.

Janitor AI Link: Click Here

#ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #janitor.ai #ai chatbot #sukuna #true form sukuna #arranged marriage #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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themotherofblood · 1 year

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Dear author, you don't know how happy I am to see that your ad requests are open. That said can I get an extremely romantic, overwhelming, passionate and rough smut with Daemon x Martell fem reader inspired by the song "Ang laga de", please?

you have no fucking idea how happy this ask made me, like kicking my legs and smiling like a lunatic happy. I have envisioned this very smut scene at least a hundred times. It is a little dark, both Daemon and Y/N are kinda crazy in this. Madly in love, literally

masterlist

smut, talks of murder, blood, loss of virginity, oral (f), more blood, fingering and evil daemon being a softie.

Daemon Targaryen x fem!Martell Reader

“I refuse to be your mistress!”

That is the last thing you had said to your beloved dragon prince.

The Dornish were said to be a shameless lot regardless, and here you fell for a married man.

The Rhoynish gods were laughing at your stupidity, there wasn’t even a lure placed for you to catch. You simply fell for him, hard.

What had been a month long endeavour to see your younger sister wed a distant Targaryen cousin. Turned to your own nightmare. You had never craved for something as much as you had Daemon Targaryen. His flirtatious deeds, bringing your flowers and trinkets had bouncing like a little girl. It was frustrating, you had tried courting before and yet it felt flat, you truly believed that men simply were not capable of pleasing you. Until he came along, him and that stupid red dragon that made you want Daemon even more

He became the thing you wanted to cry to the gods about, the sweets yours parents wouldn’t let you have or that fine silk dress that was far too big for you to wear. His niece Rhaenyra, also egged this fire further and not once had either of them mentioned that he was married! It was painful, really fucking painful, learning that his loyalty was sworn to another.

You’d spent nights unable to sleep on foreign beds, awake in the royal gardens of the Red Keep, where the prince kept you company till the sun graced the horizon and you had succumbed to slumber with your head in his lap. There was serenity, shared comfort that dwelled between the two of you. You had heard stories, counted first hand of the nights he’d spend in brothels with his whores. You didn’t care, you wanted him.

“I refuse to be your mistress.”

It was a lie, you would happily become his salacious secret should he have asked a second time. There was no dignity, no obligations or customs, to you there was just him and the one truth that boiled your blood hot. You had already given him a piece of you heart as you boarded the ship to return home. You wanted him to ask again, to whisk you away on his dragon and yet he allowed you the curtesy to return home with your honour intact.

“If there is anything the crown can provide for Dorne, do not hesitate.” Viserys coughed his words out as he presented his farewells to you in a crowded court

“Should I ask, you wouldn’t be able to provide it your grace.” You wandered, keeping your head low in respect for the man and your wants

“What is it that a king cannot provide,” Otto Hightower questioned, taking offence to your wording.

“Daemon Targaryen.” You stated, gasps echoed across the throne room. You had committed a crime, stained your honour for good. You didn’t care nor did you give Daemon a last look before boarding your ship.

Honour- what was it compared to feel of being in his arms? What was devotion if not sound of his voice relaying Valyrian poetry? What was love, if not your heart that drowned in his blood?

What was love- if not the letter of his wife’s untimely injury?

Rhea Royce, bedridden of her paralysis, remained frozen and useless to her husband.

There was much that Daemon Targaryen was capable of, much that you were capable of. The sheer fire that burned your passions would have soaked your own hands in Rhae Royce’s blood.

She didn’t love him.

You did.

Then came your brother, his stupid alliance and vengeance against the Targaryen’s was costing you your sanity, you had pleaded with him for weeks and then you succumbed to the insanity that perhaps there was venom in your heart for whoever kept you from your dragon prince.

It festered for days, the mirrors in your room painted with clay. Refusing to look at yourself until he laid eyes upon you as his wife.

You had sat at supper with your brother, his disappointment was clear. You wanted to lay with the enemy, if loving Daemon was treachery then you would happily lay your hands forwards retribution. There should have been sorrow, a searing burn of guilt- he was your family, your blood. You shared a cradle and a mother; nothing more. Your sweet brother, for now was thorn digging into your palm as you admired the flourishing bud of devotion. He had to be plucked out.

The forbidden subject was brought up once more, there wasn’t a request in sight but a demand from his brazen sister.

“Let me be his, let him have me.” A prayer, Qoren grew irate over your insolent behaviour.

He loved you dearly, his sweet sister who was blinded by the rage of love. He wouldn't allow it, claiming to chain you to your chamber if you made an attempt to contact him. You said nothing as you nibbled on your food, spatters of blood dripped onto your pie. You could feel your throat constricting and yet it was nothing compared to the agony you had been in without Daemon.

Qoren coughed profusely, blood dripping from his nose as his eyes widened at your betrayal. In truth he had betrayed you first, choosing to keep you away from the one thing you had ever truly wanted. You could taste the copper on your lips, corners of your eyes welling with tears as you ripped the small pendant from your neck; even with the antidote to the poison in your system. The despair never stopped.

An unpleasant event truly, yet what was anyone to do, Qoren had no heirs and your blood-bled mustard. In the true picture of your house’s words, you remained unbent; raging on in sheer will for one man.

Even tainted in blood, you wore white for him; to remain pure, awaiting him to paint you in the colours of his house

He will return for me, for my love

There was no assurance that he would fly to you, no evidence that Rhae Royce’s accident wasn’t a mere coincidence; yet your arrogance had you rubbing rose oil onto your skin.

My dragon would return to me, you were sure of it.

For days the men sworn to the Martells had sighted the skies day and night, all in hopes of seeing a red dragon looming over the palace. The very ladies that had dressed you since you were a child urged for you to see reason, men often toyed with naive noble ladies for their amusement. He hadn't toyed with you, you were his cherished doll, one he stole because he simply could.

“Princess,” A young squire heaved, a folded parchment in between his fingers. Sealed with a three-headed dragon.

Your wish was my command princess.

Even without a name, the curls on his lettering were indicative enough an answer for you.

He had indeed harmed Rhea Royce for you, just as you had killed your brother Qoren for him. In your heart, you knew he would find you soon; just as your orders for exotic flowers and wines were distributed to merchants, people in your household began to whisper of your delusions.

Then the black skies graced your hopes, almost taunting all those who questioned your faith in him. The moon, full as is lit the ocean in its milky glow, from those very black skies came your faith. Loud whistles of a dragon echoed through Old Palace. Yet another young squire mumbled out in laboured breaths.

You smiled to yourself as your ladies sat in silent shock, their efforts in dressing you in white and gold would bear fruit tonight. Their feet sprung to action, the jangles from their anklets were muffled in your ears, and you just smiled to yourself. You hiked you skirts up as you skipped down the corridor, the jangles on your gold anklets seemed to have been cursing everybody who questioned you.

The doors to the Old Palace opened as Daemon Targaryen rode in on horseback, and along with him came a small entourage. He sat tall atop his horse, finally a Targaryen worthy of conquering Dorne. You were sure your ancestors were screaming bloody murder, shunning you and wishing you ill will, and yet as you stood at the enterance of the Old Palace, your father’s name meant nothing infront of the man you loved.

“In a bustling court you asked for me, may all see; I have arrived.” Daemon proclaimed as he stood with his arms out. You feet hurried down the steps, hoping to grace him with an eternal embrace and yet he raised his hand to stop you dead in your tracks

“I applaud you, for a devotion even I was unknown to. You stripped yourself bare of your honour and dignity for a relationship you had no right over.” He retorted, you couldn’t understand was her perturbed? Is that what he was here for, to lecture you?

“What reasoning do you have for this madness?”

“Love.” You stated, even the word in itself felt lacking for the true tempest that swirled in your environs. It had to be bigger, all consuming.

“The one revolts against the mightiest of dragons, that love,” You walked towards him “The one that fearlessly professes her devotion at court, that love.”

“When she sees her beloved and forgets her family, that love.” You eyes glossed over, consuming your skin in wild fire, begging him to claim you already

His hands harshly grasped your forearms, shaking sense into your as he spoke.

“The Faith and my brother’s court will never see you as one of theirs,” He warned.

“I accept.” You smiled.

“Marrying me would have you walking on fire!” He reasoned, hoping you would back away; a flower far to delicate for him to touch. He would give his life for you to not wither.

“I accept.” You nodded.

“I have a wife, Rhea.” He grimaced at the thought of his bronze bitch “I shall never be able to provide you the title of my first wife.” His hand trailed up to hold your cheek, stroking away the moisture that had looked below your eyes.

“Taking my name as yours will bring nothing but notoriety.” He kissed you cheek.

“I accept.”

“Then let it be known, the world would remember us as one,” He moved backwards gesturing towards the priest in his entourage.

“The Watergardens,” You stated, gesturing your servants to lead the priest to the location.

Daemon had allowed you moments alone, your household torn over what was happening. While many sighed in relief, perhaps you would finally eat; let life make your skin glow yet again. The storm gave away and your lamp was still burning bright. He presented you with a head piece made of khaki cloth, amber and rubies with stray pieces of shells. You handmaidens were quick with it, pinning it onto your hair as Daemon made his arrangements. Caraxes looked over the Watergardens, whistling just as ecstatically as his rider as he perched himself on the beach mount.

The universe seemed to have been in agreement of your emotions, the wind on the beach picked up; cooling your overwhelmed and hot skin. The skies were clear, twinkling in stars and the full moon as the complimented the low tided waves crashing ashore. Your own servants had been quick, decorating the gardens with yellow and red candles and exotic Bravosi flower arrangements placed on vases. Daemon awaited you by the shore line.

Your hands held a dhanuchi, clay burners that held sizzling coal pieces accompanied with sandalwood. You hiked your skirts up, walking towards Daemon, counting your steps as your bare feet hit the sand, you were trying your hardest to breathe; he stood their awaiting you looking as galant as the day he received you at the Blackwater ports, it was from that day you knew your fate would be painted black in his name.

Daemon turned, toying with a black obsidian dagger as his eyes softened the second he saw you. He held his hand out for you take as you stopped next to him, placing the dhanuchi at the alter.

“This will hurt,” He whispered, gesturing to the dragon glass daggers. You shook your head, no pain would compare to the three moons you had spent without him. He lifted the edge against your bottom lip, drawing blood as he gently slashed a cut, he guided your hands to do the same. The taste of copper filled your mouth, a stinging sensation ran through your lips; one you knew would only soothe once you felt his lips on yours.

Blood of two, joined as one

You cut a gash on your palm, wincing as blood trickled to the surface; Daemon did the same with his before grasping your bloodied palm within his. The priest wrapped a silk across your palms, your lover’s lilac eyes held concern for your pains and yet wild adoration. You were to be his. Blood began to trickle into the cup of wine placed under you as the priest continued.

Ghostly flame and a song of shadows

Daemon marked your forehead with his blood, you followed his lead as the priest instructed the symbol you drew, he then offered you the cup of wine laced with your blood. You eyes never once left Daemon’s as you sipped on the strong wine before giving him the cup to do the same.

Two hearts as embers, forged in the fourteen fires

His hands came to rest at your cheek, both growing restless of the vows as he wiped the dripping blood from your lips.

A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness.

You pulled yourself closer to him, one might say you were dazed from the blood loss, in truth it was Daemon’s lilac eyes, how his hands caressed your skin. The wanting fires that engulfed the alter seeming leave everything in ashes but the two of you.

The vows spoken through time, of light and darkness.

He whispered along with the priest.

There was no shame in the way your lips crashed against one another, you tasted his blood on your tongue and yet his hands scorched your skin, almost consuming your body whole as his hands wandered everywhere as his lips claimed you. A stray tear fell from your eyes as your held onto his face, letting his tongue explore yours. You couldn’t breathe from the passion of it all, not that you cared; you life was now his to do with as he pleased.

You rested on Daemon’s lap as he lounged on your window bed, working a healers poultice on the cut of his palm, still lingering in the after effects of wedding. His hands gently returned the favour as he wrapped yours in gauze, you prayed that it would scar; it was a testament for your devotion.

“There- all fixed sweet wife.” Daemon whispered, nudging his nose against your cheek. Heat immediately rose to you cheek as you looked away, you were his wife.

You shuffled off of him, you walked to the steaming dhanuchi that you had carried back to your bed chambers, you bed chambers smelled sweet from it aroma. You had lit in hopes of being blessed by the fertitly goddess, that your marriage remaind pure and secure for eternity. You pushed you skirts always as you climbed onto your bed, letting the steam grace and bless your bed with your unconditional wish.

You dropped the burner on the floor after, letting it submerge the room in its sweet smoke. You awaited your husband as he rid himself of his tunic, you shuffled closer as you sat on your knees. Admiring his toned body and taking account for every battle scar on his skin that you would spend the rest of your life healing with your love.

“Will- will you bed me now, husband?” You whispered, your lips dangerously closer to his, begging for another kiss.

“Oh, I plan to do more than just bedding you.” His lips moulded against yours once more as his hands tugged on the ties of your blouse.

“I conquer Dorne tonight,” He teased, peppering kisses to your temple down to you cheek. He pushed you back on the bed, almost immediately pouncing on top.

He grasped your wrists with one hand, pushing them above your head as he laid siege upon your neck. Laying warm- wet kisses and bruising nips at your neck; his hair tickling at your bare skin as your squirmed underneath him. There was no reasoning to the gentle throb that began pulsing at your core- you rubbed your thigh closer to make it halt. He pushed aside your unlaced blouse, your chest heaved as he suckled on your breast, pulling and licking the hardening pebble in his mouth.

You back arched if the bed, pushing your chest into his mouth, small open mouthed gasps left your mouth as his fingers danced past your navel; yanking on the fastening strings of skirts. His hands pushing your skirts and small clothes down at once, unwrapping you like present as your laid in his ordered positioning.

You succumbed to your exposure, you moved your head in shame, opting to look out at the glaring moon as it witnessed your de-flowerinng. Daemon took offence to your actions, using his fingers to guide your chin towards him as he groaned in disapproval.

“Three moons apart and you dare look away from me?” Daemon cocked his brow at you, freeing your hands as he ventured lower on your body.

“I- forgive me, my prince.” You whispered, your lungs refraining you from speaking any louder

“Husband,” He corrected as he pushed you legs apart.

“Husband.” You mewled in shame as his fingers stroked your folds that looked by the minute. His lips latched onto your inner left thigh, sucking and nipping at the skin.

All the while his eyes remained devious yet absurdly comforting, the two fingers that drew circles on your thighs or a small groans he left against your skin, indicative of how much he was truly enjoying himself. Just for his own satisfaction he marked your thighs at several spots, leaving darkening marks for you to reminisce over in the coming fortnight.

You felt intoxicated, revelling in the way his tongue wet your outer folds before indulging in the saccharine delight that was your cunt, a shameless moan echoed through your bed chambers as you felt his tongue flicking at a much sensitive spot. He moaned against your mound the second your taste hit his tongue.

His palm, large enough to lay flat over your soft belly to hold you flush a against the bed as he took his liberties, lapping at your like his last meal had been consumed days before. His eyes bore into yours, his own demeanour turning to command, strumming the pleasures of your body to his own rhythm.

“Such a sweet delight,” He complimented, mostly to distract you from his finger easing into your tightness. You immediately clenched down on the intrusion. “This shall ease the discomfort.” He elaborated before spitting onto your folds

Your head fell backwards in shame, focusing on the comforting caresses in your torso as Daemon plunged his finger in knuckle deep. You couldn't take the prolonging tasks no longer. You whined, pawing at Daemon’s trousers.

“Please, please have me already.” You begged, you wanted to feel him within you. You could careless of the pain or discomfort, you just wanted to be one

“Take them off,” He instructed, your hands immediately worked on unbuttoning his pants, before digging your fingers into her rear to pull them down. His cock- that thing hung pliant between his legs. Part of you looked up at him curiously, and the other half wondered how your envious would engulf such a monstrosity. Your eyes silently asked for permission, to which Daemon simply stroked your hair as your wrapped your hand around the warm appendage. You were unsure of what to do.

“Stroke it, gently.” He guided you as you followed, feeling his cock twitch in your hands as you moved your hands back and forth. His tip soon glistened in moisture leaking from within. All Daemon could think of were your sweet lips wrapped around his cock and yet there was an eternity to teach you of the pleasures of the flesh. “Good girl,” He cooed.

He urged you to lay back against the pillows, working his length to harden to its full potential. He hesitated, having taken many maiden heads before, he needed this to be delicate as he tore through yours. He circled his tip at your sensitive rose bud before pushing at your entrance. You gasped out loud, letting you arms wrap around his shoulders as he inched forwards.

The stretch of his efforts shot a stinging sche through your pelvis, and he halted. Kissing your cheek and cooing at you in an attempt to alleviate even a fraction of the discomfort you were in. He advanced all the way in, hoping to let your ride out the waves of pain; you cried out louder and yet there was a little more left to go

“Look at me, just me. I shall make it better.” He groaned, hoping to suppress his own pleasures that coursed through his body, your tightness strangling his cock with threats of nearly milking him dry before anything had even begun. He felt selfish for feeling bliss as you silently wept underneath him, he caressed your cheek, the thing he held onto as his lips kissed your face. Peppering kisses to your forehead and your lips, over and over again as he inched forward

“Dae-” You shrieked as he finally bottomed out within you, the pressure of the stretch making your eyes well in more tears. You pulled yourself closer to him, trying to muffle your weeps on the crook of his neck. His arm reaches under you to support your neck. His deeper voice whispered encouragements as he awaited you to adjust to the pain.

“Look at how well you take me,” He whispered in between kisses that he pressed in your temples “Made just for me, aren't you? My sweet little wife.”

“Just for you,” You sniffled, letting yourself rest back against the pillows.

There was a humiliating familiarity in the way your aches encouraged your actions, you shuffled underneath him. Hoping to get him to move and yet he solely focused on doting on your body.

“Husband-” You whimpered, making his eyes shoot to you as they were focused on where the two of you were connected just moments before. He hummed in acknowledgement

“Can you- um please.” You stuttered, almost frustrated at yourself for losing your wording this easy.

“You have to tell me sweet wife, show me what you need.” He asked, urging his will into your answer.

“Please move- I need you to move.” You requested, he smiled before angling his hips backwards; hissing wantonly in the process and you mewled under him. There was pain within the first few thrusts and yet the deranged tendencies of your blood milked pleasure from the pain that subsided to a subtle pressure in your belly.

Daemon lost his composure, uttering vulgarities in your ear; the most obscene of sentences paired with the sweets of names he had picked for you.

“Perfect little hole, taking me so well,” He’d compliment one minute.

“Should have fucked this cunt the first day I laid eyes on you sweet girl,” The next he’d complain of the things he’d regretted.

He held your jaw, a feral smirk adoring his lips as he took your apart, your bangles clicking as your body bounced with his determined thrusts.

“Daemon!” You shrieked, such hurtful pleasure causing you to bed for such sinful things

“Just like that, scream your husband’s name.” He grunted, “Let all of Dorne know who owns this pretty body. Go on tell me.”

“You do, you do.” Cries poured from your lips as you held onto his forearms. “My Daemon,” You moaned as pulled yourself up to kiss his lips.

“Yes, yes sweet girl. All yours.” His deviant smile widened. Your cunt began to flutter around him, such flattery could mean just one thing as Daemon pushed his pelvis against yours, his thrusts grinding at your nub.

“That’s it, just lay there and take my seed,” He growled, his playing again harshly grasping your jaw to make you look at him.

“Dae- Daemon!” The ever impending storm began to paw at your insides,

Not long now- “I want it, I want babes and so much more. Please, please.” You begged to hope that itch would finally give way, and so it did. With no warning and only a scream of your husband’s name, your body erupted in ecstasy.

Daemon groaned out loud, muttering praises of your name, good girl, his sweet girl. Yes, you were. All for him as you loomed on a cloud perched high above the ground, you only registered Daemon’s thrusts faltering and warm filling your core, and then you felt Daemon’s caresses on your skin as you coaxed your heaving body to stability.

“Still with me?” He whispered against your hair and all you could muster was a lazy nod against his chest. You hissed feeling his cock leave your opening, he pushed you through it all. Letting his body weight do the work for you as he pulled himself to sit up along with you.

You finally opened your eyes, blinking away stray tears as he wiped at the trails of moisture on your cheeks. He bundled your exhausted body against his as he lifted you off your bed, walking you along to your chaise before wrapping a spare blanket against both your bodies, almost rocking your vulnerable body to a humming under his breath.

Maids poured into the clear martial bed, they all frowned at the image of their beloved Lady Martell curled against a dragon without a care as you nuzzled against him. Daemon snapped his fingers at them as they began to carry the bloodied sheets away, gesturing to the corner of the room for them to leave it behind. He planned to gift it to his brother’s council, as a warning.

There was nothing anybody could refuse Daemon Targaryen from- that and that he had a new wife. A wife of his choice, a wife he intended on loving until his death bed.

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equallyshaw · 5 months

Text

ᴅᴀʏ ꜰɪᴠᴇ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜰᴜʟ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ - ɴɪᴄᴏ ʜɪꜱᴄʜɪᴇʀ

part of holidays with equallyshaw

warnings: none! just not a great piece lol.

word count: 1.5k

ɴɪᴄᴏ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ that he had been touch by angel, the first time he saw celine for the first time. and when he spoke to her, he believed in them. celine bernard, ever cunning (in a good way!) and sweet fell head over heels that night. hands were held, kisses on the cheeks were given and a promise to see one another - soon. her cheeks full of crimson and his whole being full of butterflies. a grin erupted on her face, when he walked her back to her apartment in new york, whispering promises to one another- what a wonderful world, she thought.

❅

that was 2 years ago now, at this point. a year went and came, and ended with an engagement- the couple head over absolute heels with one another. everybody in their respective friend groups and families knew the moment they met their partner, and saw how they interacted, they knew they were it for one another. and now 2 years in, they were to be wed. at the most unconventional time, but that's just who they were. the two were to be wed on friday, December 22nd at the courthouse, before spending the evening with their closest loved ones at a small boutique hotel in west village on the 24th of december.

after a win against the red wings, nico quickly whisked his partner away for a dinner in manhattan before heading over to the hotel in west village. "

"can you really believe were actually married?" she said hushed, as she leaned in towards nico. he smiled, taking ahold of her hand from across the table, "yeah, i can." the ever confidant nico gushed and she rolled her eyes softly. "ever the charmer love." she hummed, before taking a sip from the champagne fluke.

❅

the morning of, celine woke up just in time for a brunch with her bridesmaids, his mother and her mom. she had a spring in her step, the moment she stood up. she quickly made her way into the hallway heading upstairs to the insulated rooftop restaurant. she heard cheers, as soon as she stepped off the elevator and she quickly found her wedding party. "hi mutter." she said hugging her mother in law, and katja gave her a long and warm hug. she then turned towards her mom who pulled her in, making celine smile. "thankyou for being here, i appreciate each and every one of you." she smiled sitting down and raising a mimosa. the girls clinked their glasses together, feeling the heavy presence of champagne. making the new yorker grin.

❅

celine stood in front of her floor length mirror, smoothing down her silk white dress. her silver jimmy choo shoes clinking as she went to go grab her glass of water, and feeling startled when she heard a knock on her door. she sat it down, and hurried over. she opened it to nico looking absolutely smashing in his black tuxedo, he got customized just for this special occasion. it had her initials sewn into the border of the interior. he smiled widely, holding up the blush pink peonies in his hand. she smiled, opening up the door wider and letting him walk in. as soon as he shut it, nico took her hand to twirl her around a few times. "shcatzi." he hummed lowly, before pulling her in by the hips. he sighed heavily, while looking down at his wife. "hi ni. im almost ready, and then we can head down." she hummed trying to get out of his hold but he didn't budge. she giggled, "seriously two minutes and im good." she said but he still didn't move, "nico. im serious." she giggled, as pulled her in closer. "just one kiss. all i want." he grinned, and she rolled her eyes playfully whilst leaning up to give him a quick peck. "satisfied?" she questioned, quirking an eyebrow. "it'll do, for right now." he hummed letting her move away and finish making sure her makeup was complete.

❅

the two made their way into the small reception, immediately greeted with cheers and whistles. the two weaved themselves through tables up towards the center one that held their grooms and bridesmaids. she sat down after nico pulled out her chair for her, before draping an arm around her chair. he leaned in closely, "thankyou for making me the happiest man alive." and those chocolate swiss eyes poured into her soul, sending a good shiver up her spine. she smiled widely, "and thankyou for me making me the happiest woman alive." she hummed before closing the distance between them. it was cut short when the mc for the night waltzed up to the center of the dance floor - taking in all of the attention - and glimmering.

"welcome ladies and gents to the celebration of our favorite humans - celine and nico hischier!" jack began, waiting for the cheers to subside. "whom i promised not to embarrass them or at least not horribly..." he trailed off, causing celine to push her forehead into nico's shoulder. "i kid i kid, but im incredibly honored to have been chosen to speak with you all tonight and possibly steal their thunder." jack joked causing celine to chuckle, leaning into nico. "when i first met celine, i was dumbfounded. and yes, i know that's a big word i know." he said through chuckles, "but i was. i didn't understand how nico could have found what he had found in celine. she was an angel, absolutely the kindest person we'd have ever met. need soup when your sick? she's already coming over with homemade soup. need a pick me up? ready with her - well nicos credit card to grab a coffee or tea, to cheer us up. need a birthday gift? she's got the most thoughtful present at the ready." he paused, "need some real below the deck advice or wake up call? yeah... she's got you." he trailed off, causing the crowd to laugh as he looked back at the two. "then we've got nico..who with his ever charming swiss ways somehow charming miss celine." jack began, earing a playful glare from the captain. "i remember the night when the two of them met, nico called me as soon as he had dropped her off at her apartment. this man was speaking a mile a minute, and it was about 1 in the morning and so i just hung up on him. then an hour later, i get a call from tyler and he is screaming at me because nico ended up calling tyler-" and celine cut him off, "uncle tyler!" she yelled out causing the devils players to laugh. that was his nickname on the team, and tyler adored it.

"yes! uncle tyler, she is the one that came up with that beautiful nickname and now we tease him with it. but anywho! i got an earful that evening and then the next day when we went in. safe to say i never hang up on nico anymore, because ill have tyler to hear from but also ms. celine." he paused, laughing with the crowd. "but seriously, i couldn't have picked a better ending for the two of you, my closet confidants and best friends- congratulations again. so glad you arent as grumpy as you were before." he finished, causing celine to laugh loudly with the rest of the players. a running joke on the team before celine appeared, was that he was a grumpy captain or captain 'serious'.

celine turned towards nico smiling like a fool, "that was fun!" she beamed and he mimicked her, "that was fun." and she giggled. the couple then turned towards their best man and maid of honor and conversed as the food made its way out.

❅

celine sat there watching her friends and family converse with one another while basking in some quiet minutes before she'd inevitably get up to dance. she was sipping some champagne when nico gave her a quick kiss on her head, before sitting down next to her. "hi hun, you ok?" he questioned, his brown eyes flashing concern. she nodded, seeing that emotion fade. "just taking all of this in, not every day my whole family is all in one place." she hummed, setting down her champagne. "i got worried there for a second, when you didn't come see my aunt. thought you'd run off." he said leaning back a bit, and rubbing her upper back softly. she nodded, "sorry! my sister was trying to tell me something that's all. and then i saw that you had moved on so i sat down." she explained, "but i promise ill come find you if i need a breather." she hummed and he nodded.

"i still cant believe this is my life. " she said drinking more of the golden drink, "I've waited my entire life to experience the love i saw my parents show and have, and i found that with you. and i couldn't be more thankful this christmas." she said tilting her head just a bit, as he smiled. "im thankful every day the love that youve given and shown me, and im thankful for the person I've become since the minute i met you. i adore this life and you, celine hischier." and she smiled, "and i adore you, mr.hischier." she smiled before he placed a hand on her cheek, pulling her in for a big kiss.

oh, what a wonderful world the two have.

god this is horrible, but i needed to get it out. such bad writers block rn lmao

tags: @toasttt11 @dancerbailey3 @jayda12 @jackhues @cuttergauthier

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier blurb #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #jack hughes #equallyshaw masterlist #holidays with equallyshaw

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mamasturn · 6 months

Text

dirty dancing pt. 9

pairing austin!elvis x black!fem!oc (cynthia). warning: 18+ steam, suggestive themes. content: cynthia and elvis get married. tags: @neeville @dulcewrites @crash-and-cure @cvpidspearl @blackwriter48 @wonderprince @venus2eros @adoreyouusugar @sunshinetoday1 @cosmic-parker @kaitaesupremacy @librarydame @louderfortheback @thetaoofzoe

note: well…long time, no see

“Marry me, baby.”

Cynthia’s hands released the utensils they held. A loud clatter ricocheted off the decorated walls of the dining room. The curls upon her head curtained her eyes, but they were blown wide in shock. Slowly, she tuned to the left. Her eyes found his baby blues, which were filled with hope as he descended onto one knee.

In his hand was a black velvet box. He pulled the cap back to reveal the most piece of jewelry she’d ever seen. And, it was authentically her. She’d expressed to him that as she’d gotten older, she found an indescribable beauty in the color green. Cynthia was well-aware that he was attentive; she just never knew he was so attentive that he’d propose to her with an emerald ring.

It was beautiful, goodness, was it beautiful. The emerald diamond was at least three karats, and it was the star of the show. Its setting was gold with vines entagling the band. He pulled it out of the box and brought it closer to her.

“I don’t want to spend my life with anyone else but you, Cyn. You came in my life and changed my desires. I’d be a fool to let you slip through my fingertips. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine, as long as you’ll have me.”

A tearful laugh fell from Cythia’s lips. “Where will we go?” The four words held so much weight, and he knew why. No one in the south would approve of the union of a white man and a Black woman--it was unheard of. But, Elvis knew that already, and he was determined to get what he wanted. There was one state that would grant their wishes--California. California had legalized interracial marriage in 1948, and if she said yes, he already had the first flight there arranged. He just needed a yes.

He stood to his feet and placed the box on the table. Cynthia looked up at him, her brown eyes teary and filled with a million unreadable emotions. “California. They’ll accept us out there. They don’t believe in the silliness them people in the south believe. We can get married, baby. All you gotta do is say yes, and we’ll go. It’ll be me an’ you forever. Baby…”

Cynthia stared at the ring and it stared back at her. What would she tell her parents? They were already suspicious of her relationship with Elvis and feared for her safety daily. Their Black daughter was in a committed relationship with the most famous singer in the world. That was dangerous enough. How much further was she willing to go?

She wanted to be his wife, she truly did. But she was scared. What would happen when people found out? Would they try to hurt them? A part of her challenged her concerns because her relationship was nobody else’s concern, and who was society to tell them who to love? Yes, they were of different races, but it was no reason to repel a love that was so strong and profound. They weren’t hurting anyone.

Her lips twisted as she nodded. “Let’s get married.”

“You look beautiful, darlin’.” Cynthia’s eyes dropped toward her dress. It was a simple, white slip dress that’d been hiding in her closet. It was form fitting and stopped just below her knees. Accompanied by silver pointed heels, she was the most stunning bride. She rushed her makeup in the courtroom bathroom and took the rollers out of her hair, which produced the most voluminous curls. The new layered haircut fit her wonderfully.

“Thank you. You look handsome as always.” He wore a simple black suit, nothing too crazy. He was flamboyant any other day, but chose to have the more simplistically beautiful wedding of his dreams.

“We are gathered here today…”

Their eyes met and giddy smiles spread across their faces. A dream had become a reality. All the worries and fears were washed away when she heard, “you may now kiss the bride.” Cynthia welcomed the passionate kiss and scattered applause from the judge an the officiant. It wasn’t the most ideal wedding, but it was perfect for them, and that’s what mattered. “Mr. and Mrs. Presley, congratulations.”

“Mrs. Presley…I love the sound of that.” They’d found a hotel to stay in for the evening before flying back to Graceland the following morning. The hotel service was luxurious, as they wanted the best for Elvis Presley and his wife. They stayed in the presidential suite on the top floor, which was decked out to the nine.

Large windows that oversaw the city, flowers and plants that reminded her of Graceland, chandeliers above them, and a King sized bed with an angel-white comforter, which she laid on comfortably.

Cynthia turned her head to meet his eyes and smiled gently. She loved it too. Cynthia Irene Presley. Music to her ears. Elvis stood at the end of the bed admiring her beauty. She was freshly showered and dressed in her white nightgown with lace trimming. Her makeup had been removed and her hair was tied with a satin scarf. God, she looked so beautiful to him.

Her brown eyes were blown wide with love and adoration as they followed his movements toward her. She sat up on her elbows and spread her legs just slightly to make room for his body.

Elvis crawled over her, his breath fanning her lips gently. Cynthia shuddered. His pink lips captured hers and she welcomed the feeling.

She loved intimate moments with Elvis, and she could only imagine how much better their interactions would get since they were married. It would mean they’d finally go all the way.

Cynthia and Elvis had dabbled in other forms of sexual intimacy, but had never crossed the line of penetration, as Cynthia requested. She was grateful for her husband’s patience with her, and was more than ready to give herself to him fully.

“Elvis,” she moaned softly as his lips traveled down her body. What a sight to see, it was. Him working his way down her quivering body with darkening eyes and swollen lips. Her, jerking at every touch he gave her and calling him name so gently.

“Yeah, baby…” His large hands cupped her hips as his thumbs traced the waistband of her panties. Slowly, he slid them down her legs. Cynthia kicked them to the side.

“Come here.” She pulled him upwards and kissed him again. Her lips moved toward his ear, which she nibbled on softly. Elvis moaned softly. “Make love to me, Mr. Presley.”

He burned with desire. Elvis hummed softly and instructed her to lay back. His hand slid up her abdomen, leaving goosebumps in the wake. He reached behind her back, looking to unclip her bra. She lifted up to help remove the article of clothing.

Soft pants and breaths of anticipation passed through her lips as Elvis’ warm lips traveled down the valley or her chest, around her clothed hips, and between her thighs, where he teasingly and strategically kissed around the place she wanted him the most.

He lifted his eyes, finding Cynthia with closed eyes and a heaving chest. Her lip was caught between her teeth. She looked down at him when she felt him stop.

She tensed suddenly. Elvis rubbed her thighs gently as a way of reassurance. He wouldn’t push her, though. If she needed time to prepare, he’d give her all the time in the world.

“Relax, baby, relax…”

Cynthia nodded slowly. She didn’t want it to be weird, but she was indeed nervous. But, it was Elvis, she reminded herself. She had no reason to be. All of her worries went away when she felt his lips on her. A gasp fell from her lips, “Elvis…”

“You okay?”

Cynthia nodded tiredly against his chest. “I’m okay.” She’d fantasized what her first time would be like, and Elvis exceeded her expectations. She felt so loved, adored, and honored. He paid close attention to her body and made sure her pleasure was the priority, and for that, she couldn’t have been more thankful.

“Mrs. Presley…” Elvis said for what seemed to be the millionth time. It didn’t bother her, though; she enjoyed hearing it. “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you more, Mr. Presley.”

#black authors #austin butler x reader #austin butler x black!reader #austin butler #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis x black!reader #just a little something #writers and authors #black!reader #austin butler inspired male oc x black fem oc #austin elvis imagine #elvis 2022 #elvis presley x black!reader #austin butler elvis #austin!elvis x oc #austin!elvis x black!oc #austin!elvis fanfiction

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sequinsmile-x · 2 months

Note

Hi, would you like to write a new chapter of Retour Des Morts please? I think it'll be interesting to see how they come back after all that. Have you ever considered writing where Emily doesn't come back to the BAU? Sometimes, I think if she already has a home, she won't be doing what she did in canon. She might be more into building a new place and also reassuring Jack and Hotch (or whoever will come next :>)

hiiii bestie

Ever since you sent this in I have thought about this constantly. Retour Des Morts is one of my favourite things I've written, and the fact you asked for this close to two years after I wrote it means a lot.

I hope you like this and that it lives up to what you wanted <3

-x-

Retour à La Vie

Aaron and Emily work to put their life back together after she returns from the dead.

A sequel to Retour Des Morts

-x-

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: pregnancy, lots of big feelings

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

They get married within a week of her coming back from the dead.

It’s not what she’d ever imagined her wedding would be like. There’s no white dress, no crowd of wellwishers watching with tissues clasped in their hands as she and Aaron exchanged vows. It’s just the two of them and Jack in the judge's chambers at the courthouse, a small bouquet Aaron had bought her that morning the only traditional sign that they were getting married. It’s no less special to her, no less meaningful, the happiness she feels when the judge declares them husband and wife overwhelming.

The first kiss they shared as a married couple tasted of their tears with a chaser of desperation, the fact that just two weeks ago he’d thought she was dead not lost on either one of them. Whilst it’s not what she’d pictured she’s glad it’s what she ended up with, an intimate moment with the man she loves and the little boy she loves as her own.

She knows Aaron was still struggling to believe it was real, that her suddenly being back with him wasn’t a cruel dream his subconscious was tormenting him with. She could feel it in how tightly he’d hold her, how he’d look for her in a room the moment he stepped into it. How he’d bury his face in her collarbone as they had sex, as if he wanted to crawl under her skin and stay there, desperately seeking solace in the place in her chest that she’d carved out for him years ago.

She can’t blame him, because she feels the exact same way. It’s what she’d spent 7 months wishing for, what she’d pictured when she scrunched her eyes shut in a cold, uncomfortable bed in Paris, desperate to fall asleep. The memory of his embrace, of how having his arms around her would shut her brain off, stop all the noise that came with being her, just out of reach.

When the team found out they’d married in secret the reactions were mixed. Fury, sadness and confusion at being left out painted across their friends' faces when they all went to Dave’s house for dinner. Their accusations of keeping a secret fell flat when Aaron reminded them, his glare fixed on JJ and Derek, that he’d been kept out of the loop on a lot of things. He was angry, and she was too, and she didn’t know if their relationships with the team, with the people she knew had made decisions to protect them both, would ever truly recover.

She smiles as she hears the front door open, the tension in her chest that she felt every time she was separated from him, from her husband, dissipating immediately. She knew they couldn’t live like this forever, that it wasn’t healthy for them to be so codependent, but she was giving them both the grace they needed, and deserved, for now. She sits up and places her book down, not sure she’d absorbed anything she’d been reading, and her smile only gets wider as he steps into the room.

“Hi honey,” she says softly, “How was work?”

He blows out a steady breath and leans down to kiss her, stamping his lips against hers before he walks around it to join her. He places his briefcase on the coffee table and sits next to her, his hand heavy and warm as he places it on her thigh.

“Long,” he replies gruffly, smiling when she raises her eyebrow at him, “I missed you.”

She places her hand on his, rubbing her thumb back and forth over his wedding ring, “I missed you too.”

She’d made the decision not to back to work yet. The thought of it paralysed her, fear she didn’t quite understand overwhelming her every time she thought about it. She was unsure if she even wanted to go back, if she wanted to put herself back in the line of fire in a dangerous job when she’d already lost so much. She also knew Aaron and Jack had been through so much too, they’d buried her. They’d mourned her, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to forgive herself if they had to do that again.

She wasn’t sure they’d be able to forgive her either, and the thought of that hurt more than anything.

Her gaze drifts from their joint hands to his briefcase, and she frowns slightly when she sees a newspaper sticking out of it, a circled home in the open real estate section visible through the open zip. She smiles at her husband curiously, her head tilted as her eyes meet his.

“Are you planning on moving sometime soon?” She asks, reaching for the newspaper and pulling it out, her eyebrows raised as she realises it’s one of many circled homes on the first page alone, “Or are you starting a new career in real estate and you don’t know how to tell me?” Her smile fades when she looks at him again, the tension in his jaw, the way he avoids her gaze, enough to make concern flood her belly, “Aaron?”

He sighs and shakes his head at himself, his lips pressed together as he tries to find a way to tell her. He’d wanted to wait a little while, to figure out how to broach the subject. She loved this house. They’d spent weeks going to viewings and looking for somewhere perfect, but he was starting to feel suffocated here.

Any joy he had once found in these walls had been buried with her, but they hadn’t come back from the dead, hadn’t crawled out of the hole he’d forced it into.

“I…I’ve been thinking it would be good for us to find somewhere new,” he says, and she stares at him, her mouth falling open slightly as his unexpected confession washes over her.

“Oh,” she says, her eyes drifting back down to the newspaper, the pages crinkling slightly in her tight grip.

“Yeah,” he replies, clearing his throat, hating the tension that had quickly filled the room, “I think we need a fresh start. Jack too.”

She furrows her brows as she looks up at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she blows out a steady breath, “But…we love this house.”

He doesn’t understand the anger that licks through him, burning in his veins in a way it so rarely did, a phantom that had haunted him since his childhood, something he could never quite outrun.

“We held your wake in this room, Emily,” he says, harsher than he means to, the way her eyes widen, how she recoils away from him ever so slightly, the thing that calms him down. He sighs as guilt chases away his anger. “You sit in this room and you think of the night we moved in. When we sat on the floor with Jack and ate pizza because the couch hadn’t been delivered yet,” he says, unable to stop smiling at the memory, but it fades quickly, “I think of sitting right here with Jack after everyone left after your wake,” he clenches his teeth and looks down at his lap, tears burning in the back of his eyes, “I think of the fact I slept on this couch for weeks because even the spare rooms upstairs held too many memories.”

She blows out a slow breath and looks up at the ceiling, shaking her head as she wipes away a stray tear from her cheek, “Aaron, I am so-”

“I don’t need you to keep apologising sweetheart,” he says, reaching for her hand and holding it desperately, her bones popping against each other, “I want to move past this with you. Move on with our lives and just…”

He drifts off, unsure how to put it into words and she squeezes his hand back. She places the newspaper down and shifts closer to him, their knees pressed together as she cups his cheek with her free hand, forcing him to look at her.

“Just start living again,” she finishes for him, and he chuckles, the sound wet as it catches on his ribs, and he nods.

“Yeah,” he agrees, clearing his throat as his voice cracks, “I want that more than anything.”

She looks around the living room, at the memories on the walls in the form of photographs. At the tv stand they’d built together, the fireplace they decorated every season. She once thought she’d live here forever, that this was the place she’d build a family with him, but when she was gone, dead to him and almost everyone she knew, it wasn’t the house she’d missed.

It was him. It was Jack. They were her home.

“Okay,” she says quietly, resting her forehead against his, “We’ll find somewhere new,” she says, stroking her thumb back and forth over his cheek, lamenting the loss of his beard since he’d gone back to work.

She smiles when his eyes get brighter and his smile gets wider, as if a weight she hadn’t known he was carrying had been lifted from his shoulders, “Really?”

She’d miss this house, but it was something she was willing to lose if it made him happier. She nods and kisses him, tasting the smile he presses against her lips.

“Really.”

___

Six Months Later

Emily sighs as the car comes to a stop, nerves making her belly roll as she stares at Dave’s house. She lifts her hand to her mouth without thinking, ready to chew her cuticles, but Aaron catches her hand halfway, linking their fingers together and squeezing. She turns to look at him and smiles tightly, relaxing slightly as he lifts their joint hands to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, squeezing her hand again as they drop to the centre console, “We don’t have to tell them tonight if you don’t want to.”

She smiles softly at him, love for him warming her from the inside out as he looks at her like she’s made of something precious and she shakes her head, “No, we should tell them,” she says, placing the hand not wrapped up in his on her slightly rounded belly, “I don’t think I’d be able to hide it much longer anyway, I’m starting to resemble a blimp.”

She was convinced it would take a long time to get pregnant, the warnings of her doctors in France echoing around in her head as she and Aaron discussed expanding their family. They’d decided to start trying right away even though things had still been rocky at the time, their lives and their relationship on unsteady ground, their love for each other the only thing that kept them on track for the easier path ahead. It had surprised her when she stood in the bathroom of their old house with a positive pregnancy test just two months after she came home. Despite the timing not being ideal, she was happy, and she knew he was too. She was almost halfway through her pregnancy now, and she knew it was time to share the news with the people she once called her family

No one else other than Jack, Jessica and Emily’s doctor knew about the baby, about the little girl growing steadily under Emily’s skin. It wasn’t because she didn’t want their friends to know, but because of a lack of opportunity. Aaron saw them every day at work but she still hadn’t gone back. And now she never would. She’d met with Strauss only the day before and officially changed her career break into retirement from the FBI. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do going forward, what she’d do once she was more settled back into her life and her baby was born, but she knew it was the right decision.

She wanted to be what she’d never had - a present parent, and she no longer felt like that was something she could do in a career that had almost killed her.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, placing his hand over hers on her bump, “Both of you.”

She hums and leans in to kiss him, stamping her lips against his before she pulls back, “Come on,” she says, “We’d better get in there before Dave sends out a search party.”

As she steps out of the car she adjusts her sweater, making sure the baggy material isn’t clinging to her bump, and then she reaches for Aaron’s hand, squeezing it tightly as they approach the house.

The evening is easier than she thought it would be, the slight tension she still felt at times around them, JJ in particular, more bearable than it used to be. If any of them notice she isn’t drinking wine they don’t mention it, all of them content to act as if nothing had changed, as if seven months ago she hadn’t been dead to almost everyone sitting around the dining table.

“So, peaches, are you ever coming back to work?” Penelope asks, her lips pushed out in a pout as she looks at her friend, “I miss seeing your beautiful face in the office. "

Emily chuckles politely and she looks at Aaron and he nods, his hand on her knee under the table a much needed comfort. She takes a moment to breathe slowly before she looks at her friends.

“Yesterday I gave Strauss my official notice that I’m going to be retiring from the FBI,” she says, pressing her lips together when she sees the shock spread across their faces, a tidal wave of emotions sweeping through them all, “The paperwork has all been filled out, so I won’t be coming back.”

The room falls into silence and it hangs over them all, cloying and suffocating like a thick blanket as her words sink in.

“Why?” Spencer asks, the first to get his ability to speak back, “I thought you loved your job.”

“I did,” she says, smiling sadly as she shakes her head, “I do. I just…” she looks at Aaron and any tension that had gathered in her chest disappears the moment their eyes meet, his love a balm for any ailment she felt, and she looks at her friends again, “I love my family more. This is the right thing for us. Jack is doing so much better now, and his therapist says it is partly because he has a more consistent life now,” she shrugs and chuckles humourlessly, “How can I take that away from him just because I like my job?”

Dave sighs and sits backwards, his hands on the back of his head as he looks back and forth between her and Aaron, “That makes sense.”

Derek nods, clearly not agreeing but aware of his place in Emily’s life now, how he had lost her trust, “We’ll miss you, Princess. We already do.”

She smiles and nods, “I’ll make more of an effort to come in and see you all,” she says, aware that she was partly to blame for how things were between them, that her resistance to going to the office whilst she was on her career break had been a factor. She places her hand over Aaron’s on her knee and links their fingers together, “Plus,” she says, clearing her throat in an attempt to hide her smile as she nods her head towards him, “I’ve already promised this one I’ll bring the baby in to see him all the time anyway.”

There’s another moment of silence, shock and joy rolled into one as it fills the air and her lungs, making her feel like she can breathe clearly for the first time since she’d got out of the car. The room descends into chaos, and Penelope is out of her chair before any of the others can even react, wrapping her arms tightly around Emily who is still sitting down.

“You’re having a baby?” She squeals, making Emily chuckle with her enthusiasm, and she nods, placing her hand on Penelope’s arm that was tight around her neck.

“Yes,” she laughs, “But only if you don’t choke me before she’s born.”

“She?” Penelope squeals again, forcing Derek to make a joke about his hearing as she switches to hug Aaron instead, and they all laugh in between congratulating them, and for a moment everything feels exactly as it should.

Emily eventually steps out for some air and to grab another soda from the kitchen, shaking off Aaron’s attempts to go get it for her with nothing more than a soft smile. She rolls her neck and places her hand on her bump as she walks to the fridge, grateful for a moment of silence away from the dozens of questions.

“Congratulations.”

She turns and looks at JJ, her smile tight as she nods gratefully, “Thank you.”

JJ clears her throat as she steps closer, her arms tight over her chest as she looks at the floor, the awkwardness between them still as fresh as it was the day Emily came home, “So you’re 19 weeks along?”

Emily nods, her hand on her belly as she sees JJ looking at it, “Yeah, I turn 20 weeks next Wednesday.”

JJ nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “And you said you’re having a girl.”

She smiles, “Yeah, a girl,” she says, her smile getting wider when she feels the baby move as if she knew she was being spoken about, “Jack is excited, he said he wanted a little sister from the moment we told him.”

JJ’s smile changes as she steps closer, sadness creeping in, somehow making her eyes seem darker, “There was a time when you would have told me the moment you found out.”

Emily immediately feels anger rush through her, rolling in her belly alongside her daughter, and she clenches her teeth, but it’s not enough to capture the words that escape her, “Well, there was a time when I didn’t think you’d lie to me for 7 months,” she shrugs, “I guess things have changed.”

JJ closes her eyes and shakes her head, “I don’t know how many times I have to say I did what I had to do,” she says as she looks at her, “One day you’re going to have to forgive me.”

She scoffs and shakes her head, “No I won’t,” she says firmly, her arms crossed over her chest, “I don’t have to forgive you for this. I don’t think I can.”

“Em-”

“If it was just me…” Emily shouts, cutting over JJ before she clears her throat to calm herself down, her daughter’s kicks getting sharper as her blood pressure increases, “If it was just me,” she says again, her voice softer this time, “I would have been able to get past it. But you lied to Aaron, you let him and Jack think I was dead after they’d already lost Haley and I can’t get past that.”

JJ clenches her jaw to stop herself from crying and looks up, “I did what I thought was right.”

“We had to move. Because every corner of that house changed for them. Jack still has nightmares. He sleeps in our bed more often than he doesn’t and Aaron…” She shakes her head and looks away, turning her head so she can wipe away a stray tear before she looks back at her friend, “Sometimes when he first wakes up he still thinks it’s not real. He never says it, but I can see it in his eyes. The flash of panic, the relief when he realises I’m right there. I don’t know if I can forgive you for doing that to him.”

They fall into silence and JJ sighs, running her fingers through her hair as she shakes her head, “I am sorry, Em. It was an impossible situation.”

“I know that,” she says, “And I know part of it is my fault, it’s because of my decisions before I’d even met Aaron. But your decisions put them through something we will live with our entire lives. I can’t forgive that but…I think one day I’ll be able to live with it.”

The spark of joy that flashes across JJ’s face makes her ache, “Really?”

She nods and chokes on a laugh, “Yeah,” she says, wiping away another tear from her cheek, “Really. My little girl is going to need her Aunt JJ to balance out the crazy from Aunt Pen.”

JJ laughs, the sound catching on a sob as she pulls Emily into a hug, and it feels like a step in the right direction.

___

Six Months Later

Emily shushes her daughter as she paces the living room, holding the two-month-old against her chest as she pats her back, burping her after her 3 am feed.

“I know sweet girl,” she mumbles against the baby’s temple as she fusses, wholly against the idea of settling back down to sleep, “Life is so hard when you’re 8 weeks old and Mommy can’t constantly feed you.”

Renee was born on her due date, arriving right on time into the world in a way Emily had joked ever since was something she’d inherited from Aaron. He’d always reply that he was glad she’d got something from him, since the baby girl was Emily’s double in every other way. She couldn’t deny it, as the weeks passed the resemblance became even clearer, and features she’d hated her whole life on her own face, such as her nose, were suddenly beautiful to her when she saw them on her daughter.

“Give her a break, she just happens to love your breasts.”

She smiles wryly as she turns to look at her husband, her eyebrow raised as his eyes meet hers from where he is standing in the doorway, “Well, at least that’s another thing she got from you.”

He chuckles and walks over, stamping a quick kiss against her lips, “True enough,” he says, kissing her again before he pulls back, “Have you been awake for long?”

She shakes her head and looks down to see Renee is now fast asleep against her, “Maybe 30 minutes or so,” she replies, walking over and slowly lowering herself to the couch, “I’m sorry if we woke you up.”

“You didn’t,” he says as he joins her, his arm automatically around her shoulders as she settles against his side, “I woke up and you were gone so…”

It was the year anniversary of her return from the dead, of the start of the journey they’d been walking together ever since. Sometimes it felt like no time at all, like she’d blinked and she was here with him and their children in a new house. Other times she could feel every second, every moment of doubt and pain and sadness that they’d had as they navigated to where they were now. To the life she liked to think they both deserved. Quiet and so achingly normal she sometimes wanted to cry at the beautiful simplicity of it all.

She hears what he hasn’t said, what his brain will still trick him into even a year later, and she sighs sadly, pressing her lips against his cheek, “We’re right here.”

“I know,” he says, capturing her lips in a kiss, “My girls.”

She smiles and nods, the moniker never failing to warm her from the inside out even though he’d said it countless times ever since they’d found out they were having a daughter.

“Your girls,” she confirms, kissing him again before she turns her attention back to the sleeping baby on her chest, “Sometimes I still can’t quite believe I have all of this.”

He wasn’t the only one who was prone to thinking that this was all too good to be true, that one day she’d wake up and she’d still be in Paris, the last year of her life nothing more than a fantasy she had come up with to sleep through the night.

“You do sweetheart,” he says, kissing the side of her head as his hand shifts to the back of Renee’s head, his fingers following the swirling pattern of her dark hair.

“We’re all right here,” he says, repeating her words, “Rey is right here with us, Jack is upstairs in his room,” he says, kissing the right of her head, “We’re all here.”

She nods, turning her head so her forehead is pressed against his cheek, the feeling of his breath skipping across her skin relaxing her, a gentle reminder of what she had now, what she’d once died to protect.

“Yeah,” she says, “We really are.”

-x-

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flowerpottlady · 10 months

Text

Shine

Day 5 of my domestic Jily series! Inspired by @jilymicrofics

***

Lily stepped from the bathtub, ever so carefully, still completely unused to the added weight tacked onto her midsection. She stuck a blind hand out, reaching for a clean towel from the pile on the counter, and wrapped herself in it - wondering just how much bigger her bump would grow before she would have to charm the towels to accommodate for her new size.

She could hear James pacing from the next room over, ready to leave over half an hour ago, when Lily decided she needed a quick shower before venturing out into the Muggle world - a secret date that James had planned on his rare night off from Order duties.

Lily decided to take her time though, it wasn’t often she got the chance to dress up, and at thirty weeks pregnant it took a while to do almost anything nowadays. She picked up her wand first, using it to quickly dry her hair, marveling at the thickness of it, the shine, that pregnancy had given her auburn locks. She dabbed some makeup on, deciding that a spot of pale pink blush on her cheekbones helped to take away from the slightly chubby cheeks she had recently developed.

After outlining her eyes with a charcoal pencil, brushing some golden eyeshadow across her lids, and swiping the dark mascara over her eyelashes - Lily took a moment to stare at her, relishing in how unnatural she felt in her body. Like it wasn’t hers anymore.

Her once flat stomach bulged from her. Her body changed in unimaginable ways, all for her child. While her back hurt, her breasts ached, and she was certain there was a foot lodged into her spleen - Lily wouldn’t give it up for anything. She loved it, carrying a new life inside of her, creating another human being - from the purest form of love that Lily shared with James.

She rubbed her hand down her swollen belly, imagining the baby that would soon be in her arms. Wondering what it would feel like to see its red face, to feel their skin against hers. “I’m so ready for you sweetheart,” she whispered, hoping her baby would hear her.

“Lil?” James’ voice came through the door - only slightly apprehensive. “I don’t want to rush you, but I am getting very hungry.”

“Almost finished!” Lily yelled back, snapping her attention to the pale blue dress hanging against the door. She dropped her towel, kicking it toward the corner of the bathroom - and slipped on the silky slip, giggling at the way it clung to her bump.

The blue dress was next, and Lily reached towards it, fondly remembering the last time she wore that dress - at Alice and Frank Longbottom’s wedding before her seventh year. She danced until her feet hurt; James twirling her, laughing with her, whispering in her ear. He had kissed her on the cheek at the end of the night, and Lily was certain that was the moment she had fallen in love with him.

It was a simple dress, and Lily smiled widely when she realized it still fit her - even better than before. The strapless top exposed her pale shoulders, lightly dusted with freckles, and did wonders for her boobs - exposing her cleavage in a way that she knew would drive James wild. It fell mid-thigh, the empire waistline swinging around her bump and -

“Lily!” James shouted through the door again, interrupting the time she spent simply admiring herself. “Love I know you must be hungry too, are you almost done yet?”

She rolled her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear and opening the door wide. James was standing there, leaning suavely against the doorframe - dark hair mused perfectly, his strong jawline freshly shaved. The dark gray button-down shirt he wore perfectly accented his pecs, his sleeves already slightly rolled up. He smirked at her, hazel eyes moving up and down behind his round specs, drinking her in.

She was so getting laid.

“What? I’m ready, and starving, let's go.”

He grinned, bearing his perfectly white teeth, “You’re cute.” James said softly, stepping forward to peck her cheek. “I’m very lucky I married you.”

“I’m very lucky to have married you too.” She whispered back, grasping his hand. “Now c’mon, will you tell me where you are taking me yet?”

“Not till we get there.”

Lily could only roll her eyes then, smoothing her dress down her bump. “Well, I hope it has chocolate cake. Little Harry is very hungry for some chocolate cake.”

“Well, I hope little Josephine, is equally as hungry.” James said knowingly, “Because you know, you are having a girl.”

“Even if we are having a girl, we are not giving her my second name. We are in the 1980s now, dear, not the 1880s.”

“Right, of course. Silly me. My parents are Euphemia and Fleamont. It’s easy to forget.” James laughed, grabbing Lily’s purse and guiding her out the front door.

She was silent for a moment, a small contemplative smile stretched across her face.

“What’s that look for?” James asked, turning to look at his wife after locking their door.

“Oh, nothing really…” Lily began, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m just really happy to be doing this with you.”

“Getting dinner?”

“You know what I mean,” she said softly.

“I do,” his hand reached for her bump, pressing a hard kiss into her cheek. “I’m very happy to be doing this with you too.”

***

Start from the beginning here! 31 Days of Potters

#jily #harry potter #james potter #jily fic #jily fanfiction #hp marauders #james and lily #lily potter #marauders #hp fanfic

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shadowdaddies · 6 months

Note

Hey do u think u can write a dark manorian x f!reader I think that would be intense

ooh this was my first time writing something like this and it was def intense. thank you for the request💜

Meant to Be

dark!Manorian x fem!reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Warnings: kidnapping, implied violence, drugging

Pounding your fists on the bedroom door, you screamed. “Let me out! You cowards, where the fuck is he?” You were out of breath, exhausted from trying to escape the room they’d locked you in. The doors and windows were all sealed shut, and with the raging fireplace and the many layers of skirts in your wedding dress, you were in desperate need of water.

Crumpling to the floor, you sobbed into your hands - mind reeling over the events of the recent hours. The happiest day of your life quickly turned the worst - flashes of your family’s horrified faces, your fiancé’s fear as you were snatched out of his arms.

You were drawn out of your nightmarish thoughts by the sound of the door clicking open. Two sets of feet were visible from the cracks between your fingers, and you pulled your hands back to see Manon standing over you as Dorian closed the door behind them. She walked around to your side, crouching down to your level. “Oh, my sweet girl. Why are you so upset?” she cooed, bringing a hand to your face to wipe the smudged makeup.

Your eyes simmered with rage at her audacity. “Why am I upset? Are you fucking kidding me? You kidnapped me from my wedding! Where - where is he?” Your voice broke off as the last question left your mouth. Deep down, you knew where your fiancé was - what they had done with him. But you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it.

Dorian crouched at your other side, a glass of water in his hand as he brushed the hair from your face. You jerked away from his touch, heart racing like the prey that you were, caught between two predators. Dorian tsk’d at your reaction to his touch. “Now, that’s not very nice. I came in here to check on you and bring you water, and this is how you thank me?”

You glared at him, reluctantly taking the glass with shaky hands and drank down the contents. Instant relief flooded your veins as the water cooled you down, survival mode kicking in. You had to get out of here - if only you could make it to the door, then you could find a window and make your escape.

A delicate finger tapped the bottom of your chin, angling your face towards Manon. Her golden eyes glowed with pleasure when you looked at her. “Good girl,” she whispered, words dripping with pride. Thumb stroking your cheek, Manon spoke to you as though she were soothing a frightened animal. “See? We’re not here to hurt you. We love you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but a plan came to mind, and you would need the element of surprise on your side. Dorian stroked your hair again, and this time you tried to seem comforted by the action, turning to face him. He beamed at you, moving his hand down to swipe his thumb across your bottom lip in a display of ownership.

Drawing his hand back, Dorian’s sapphire eyes glittered as he watched your face. Good. You needed to keep their focus away from your hands. You subtly shifted up onto your heels, thankful for the full skirts that hid your movements as you prepared to run. Dorian hummed, watching you in admiration as he spoke. “You’ll be so much happier with us, sweet girl. You won’t even miss that poor excuse of a man.”

His words snapped the leash you had on your emotions, launching you into action. You smashed the glass against the floor, grabbing shards of glass as you blindly swung them at Manon and Dorian and jumped up towards the door.

You barely made it two steps before phantom hands wrapped around your ankles, and you fell face first towards the ground before iron nails tore through the back of your dress. You were suspended in the air, Manon holding you with terrifying strength as Dorian walked in front of you. He sighed, twirling the glass shard in his fingers and looked down at you with the same disappointment as a parent might look at a naughty child. “And here I thought you might have come to your senses.”

Manon hauled you to your feet, phantom hands now pinning your hands to your sides as a wave of nausea flooded over you. The room began to spin, and you struggled to focus as Dorian’s voice became a distant echo. “We thought you might need some more time to calm down. I didn’t expect you to drink all of that water, though. You’ll be out for awhile.”

You felt warm, strong arms scoop you up as the world faded to black, and you realized you would never escape them. “Sleep tight, sweet girl. We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

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writer-ann-artist · 1 year

Text

Aemond x Depressed!Reader

Part two Part three

• Parents and Measters recognizing readers' melancholy personality at a young age

• Doing their best to care for reader without making them worse

• Parents loving reader without fail

• Parents crying because reader tried to show affection

"John! John!"

Lady Meraider shouted across the room as she interrupted her husband's meeting. Lord Meraider turned to face his wife with swift panic. Only to see a smile accompanied with tears. Lady Meraider practically fell into her lord husband's arms. She laughed through hiccups as Lord Meraider held her. She finally gained composer and loosened her grip on her husband.

"What is it my love? Why are your emotions out of control?"

"It's y/n, "

"Are they alright?!"

"Yes, yes! Everything is perfect!"

"Then what has happened?"

"I was talking with her Septa, about how her studies were going. And while we were talking y/n came into the room, all quiet as usual."

Lady Meraider gave way to tears again. Lord Meraider wiped her tears so she could continue.

"Y/N came in and decided she wanted a cuddle, it only lasted a minute or so before she left again, but Husband. She cuddled me of her own will!"

Thus time Lord Meraider gave way to tears along with his wife.

• Readers parents having high hopes for when they come of age

• Their daughter is wonderful who could not love her their special baby after all, all her peers enjoy her company, and many of them being males

• Parents already giving grand plans for thier daughters wedding

• Depressed!Daughter peers not liking/shaming them first their dreary disposition

• Daughters peers not liking that despite her constant sadness males are willing to try for her (they don't try too hard though)

• The mothers disappointment and the fathers anger when others flat out reject their daughter

Lord Meraider tossed his cutlery across his plate as he watched another lords daughter cut into his daughters dance. Only to see the boy agree to the other girl. The Meraider daughter doesn't look upset to the untrained eye, but her parents knew. They knew that they would both have to sleep that evening knowing their daughter would cry that night. Especially since this was the third dance she had been jilted.

"Fools, all of them. They should be grateful I even invited them here."

"I know husband, I know."

Both parents sigh as they watched their daughter gracefully leave the dance floor without causing a scene.

"Once day, I promise you wife. Our daughter may appear the be prey to these harlets, but she has a fire. I've seen it in her eyes. She will outshine them all."

• Lord Meraider sending his daughter to his brothers for a possible marriage pact

• Daughter not knowing who the marriage pact is with (if she knew she would not show)

• Reader helping her cousins get ready rather than herself, said cousins, having to heavily persuade reader to let them doll her up

• (Emerald or black dress) the dress readers cousins had made specifically for her

• Reader doesn't meet cousins potential betrothed, but he does see her

• Reader waits with her cousins in line from oldest to youngest while the potential husband arrives

A great storm begins to brew as the Baratheon's wait for their guest. All wait with excited nerves and cautious brains. All but one, the one who is unaware of who the guest really is. The storm rumbles through the keep, shaking windows, and the inhabitants' hearts. With a crash of lightning, another sound of thunder echoed about, only this one was different. It shook fear into the patient inhabitants, causing a few to gasp and jump in their place. Non but one recognized the sound.

"What was that?"

"Sounded like a Demon, or some monster."

"Stop trying to scare your sister!"

"It was just thunder."

The sound echoed again, but thus time ahead of the thunder. With the sound of nature accompanying the ferocious entity it made the sound it emitted lounder than before. The inhabitants of the keep looked to the ceiling as the metal fixtures shook with the terrifying sound.

"That's not thunder."

The fear inside the room grew in an immense measure. The suitor was here.

• Reader stood with her cousins, she was just as nervous but was better put together from a strangers eye view

• The cousins had taken a step back leaving Depressed!Reader to be front and center

• When the daughters notice the distance between them and their cousins, they try to pull her back to them only for the prince's voice to stop them in their tracks

"It appears I have been mislead. Should I translate this to you trying to deceive the crown?"

The prince's voice echoed through the grand hall. The lord of the keep scoffed.

"You think I would purposely offend the brother of the crown? My prince, please tell what has offended you so that I may correct it?"

The prince let's a hum vibrate from him. As if in deep thought, he looks to the young woman. They girls reach for the one closest to the one eyes prince. There was only four children of the lord, yet he was seeing five young woman. Unbeknownst to them he had remembered and recognized one of them. One he had missed for a time.

"I seem to recall you only having four daughters. Why do I see five young woman in my presence?"

The lord did his best to not laugh. It was a simple mistake. One that could have been avoided if his forerunner had done his job.

"My apologies, my prince. Let me clear up any confusion."

• The lord introduced each of his daughters from eldest to youngest, each one avoided eye contact with the prince

• When his eye settled on the one he remembered, he caught her eyes on him before she gave him a deep bow

• The prince watched her as she was introduced, she stirred something from within him

• The lord suggested a dinner to be held to welcome the prince and his decision

• The prince had decided he would make his decision before the end of the night despite the lord wanting him to know the young lady's

"I will marry the sweetest one." Announced the prince as he removed himself from the dinner chair

• The lady's lined up, ready to wish the prince good rest, they were confused as the prince lingered

• The prince and lord shared a look as if to know what the other intended to do

"Just a kiss is all I ask, just one from each of you. I only ask for the sweetest one to be my wife." The prince stated before approaching the daughter closest to him. Each one shocked by the searching kiss from the prince. Each squeak from his daughters made the Lord worried and fearful. Worried for how his daughters will feel after the invasive proposition and fearful of the prince being displeased.

• When the prince kissed the reader, her whimper was the lowest in noise, nearly nonexistent compared to her cousins

• Their kiss lasted the longest, and the prince allowed his lips to move along

• Not to mention, he continued the kiss after the reader layed her hand on his forearm, he had immediately removed himself when one of her cousins had touched him

• The prince detached himself with a hum watching a readers eyes fluttered open

After a pause of watching the prince hold and stare down his niece, the lord spoke. "Has a decision been made, my prince? Have my daughters or niece met your standards?" Again the prince hummed, this time from deep within his throat. "Sweet." Was all the prince had said before exiting the dining hall.

Very self-indulgent this is. Thinking about fleshing this out into a full story. Depending on how motivated I am, this may or may not happen. Will most likely turn into an oc x Aemond instead of an x reader.

#🖤🔪🐈‍⬛shyanns #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #depressed reader #melancholy reader #sad reader #Aemond Targaryen x Depressed!Reader

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bobfloydsbabe · 1 year

Note

Jas & Jake wedding night.

And that's all I'm saying.

Anna, my love! Thank you for participating in blurb night, and for sending in this request for Jas and Jake. It is decidedly less spicy than intended, but still so them. Enjoy!

lay me down again

SUMMARY: Jas and Jake arrive home to spend their wedding night together.

WARNINGS: Suggestive themes.

WORD COUNT: 0.5k

“You better not–Jake!”

Jas yelped as he scooped her up into his arms bridal style, smile wide and vibrant on his face, and she gripped his neck to steady herself.

Jake pushed the door to their house open with his shoulder, carrying Jas across the threshold with ease before depositing her on the ground. He walked around her, sidestepping the train of her wedding dress, and closed the door, letting the silence of their shared home engulf them.

He came back to her, cheeks a little flushed from the alcohol, laughter, and dancing, but he looked so happy.

He pressed his forehead against hers, peering down into her eyes. “You look stunning,” he whispered into the darkness, his breath fanning across her face. “I’ve never wanted you more.”

Jas threw her head back, laughing at the seriousness of his tone. “We already defiled this dress once.”

“You can take it off this time,” he promised, stepping back and holding out his hand for her. “Easier access.”

He led her to the bedroom. “You’re disgusting,” she argued, wrapping her hands around his neck as he snuck his around her middle.

“And yet,” he began, placing a light kiss on her lips. “You married me.”

Jas hummed into another kiss before turning around in Jake’s embrace and sweeping her hair over one shoulder. “Help me get out of this?”

“As you wish,” he said, placing a soft kiss at her nape. He started working on the many buttons down the back of her wedding dress, and Jas could feel his frustration grow with each one.

“Jake,” she said when she finally felt the fabric loosen enough around her hips. He hummed, his hands stilling on a button at her lower back. “I can get out of it now.”

He moved his warm hands from her back to her hips, guiding her around to face him. For a moment he just looked into her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she felt shy under his gaze.

“None of that, Doc,” he whispered, sliding his hands up arms. He grasped the straps of her dress and pulled them down until the fabric fell around her ankles, leaving her completely bare for him, save for her panties. Her dress had allowed for little else.

His eyes raking over her body sent confidence back in Jas’ system and she placed her hands on his chest, pushing him gently back towards the bed.

He was faster, though, and spun them back around, so Jas’ back hit the mattress and Jake fell on top of her in a heap of barely contained laughter and desire.

“Hey,” he mumbled against the skin of her neck. Jas snaked her arms around his shoulders and ran her fingers over the short hair at the back of his head.

She pulled what few strands she could get a hold of and made him look at her. “Hey,” she whispered back. “I love you.”

Jake grinned, wide and childlike, and he spent the rest of the night showing her that he loved her just as fiercely.

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kennarose1108 · 2 years

Note

Hey I would love if maybe you could write the reader getting car sick or plane sick while she’s on tour with Elvis!! And she tries to hide it but something happens and she can’t hide it anymore and Elvis has to help her!

Elvis Presley (MOVIE) x Reader !YOU GET CAR SICK WHILE ON TOUR!

You and Elvis hadn't dated long but he was already falling in love with you. He didn't realize how hard he was falling for you until he caught himself imagining your wedding. You walking down the aisle in a gorgeous white dress with your hair and makeup done in the most beautiful ways. And in response to him falling for you he didn't want to be away from you any longer than he had to.

He couldn't stand going through another tour without you. So he invited you to the next one. You were hesitant because Elvis would travel thousands of miles to get to his destinations and you get extremely car sick. Even driving an hour somewhere made you feel horribly nauseous. But Elvis's recent tours hadn't been so big, only a few hours on the road. You can tolerate that. A few hours then getting off. So you agreed.

Elvis was ecstatic, quickly packing your stuff for you not even letting you touch it. When the day came he dragged you on the tour bus, a huge grin on his face. You and Elvis sat together, Tom, Billy, Vernon, and some of Billy's friends sat across from you both. Elvis and Billy were having a conversation when you wondered where you all were going.

"Elvis. Where are we heading too?" You asked. "Washington State." He says while slinging his arm over your shoulder. You froze. Washington State? That's like a thirty four hour drive.. You smiled at him before resting your head on his shoulder. You had been fine for the first hour, talking, laughing, and having a good time. But then the nausea hit you like a truck. You tried your best to put a smile on your face and act like everything was alright but Elvis wasn't stupid, he knew something was wrong. "Are you alright?" Elvis asks. You nodded, "Yeah... Just tired." You say with a smile.

After a few more hours you had to try and distract yourself from not vomiting. You tried looking out the window but that just made your entire world spin which made it a lot worse. But you felt somewhat relieved that it was now night time so you could go to bed and hopefully feel better. You ended up falling asleep on Elvis's chest as he laid on the seats.

You were comfortable and sleeping peacefully until you woke up randomly in the middle of the night to your nausea being worse than before. You couldn't hold it in anymore. You lifted your body off of Elvis's and held onto your mouth, gagging in the process. You hurriedly got up and sprinted to the bus's bathroom, slamming the door behind you and puking as you fell to your knees.

Elvis woke up in a confused and startled state when you shot up from him. He didn't snap out of it until he heard the bathroom door slam shut and the sound of you vomiting. Elvis sat up and rubbed his eyes, glancing over at everyone else who hadn't even stirred at the loud noises. He then got up, stumbling a bit since he was still not fully awake, and walked to the bathroom door.

The sound of a knock on the door made you jump. "Y/N? Are you alright in there?" Elvis's voice called through the door. "Yeah... Yeah I'm fine." You yelled out, trying to sound okay but you just didn't. You gagged through your words and you just sounded awful. "Want me to get you some water?" Elvis asks. You thought for a moment, making the decision that a cold glass of water would do you good. "Yeah.. Yeah that'd be nice thank you." You called. You heard him walk off. You then stood up and looked at yourself in the sink. You cringed, seeing vomit around your lips.

You grabbed the hand towel that was hanging up and wiped your lips before throwing it in the hamper. You stepped out of the bathroom to see Elvis standing next to the door, an ice cold water bottle in hand. "Thanks." You say while grabbing the water bottle from his hands.

You walked to the seat, Elvis behind you, and you both sat down. "You're not alright. What's wrong?" Elvis asks. You stare at the ground, taking sips of the water. "Nothing major." You said in between sips. "I don't care if it's the tiniest thing on the planet. If you're not okay I'm not okay. What's going on?" Elvis asks again, hoping he didn't have to repeat himself.

"I get car sick. Bad." You turn your head to him. "Then why did you come?" He asks. "I wanted to make you happy. And I didn't realize it was going to be a thirty four hour trip." You say with a chuckle, leaning back in your seat, Elvis doing the same.

"Well you know what that means now." Elvis says. You give him a confused look. "I'm going to take care of you," He says while wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close, placing a kiss on your neck. "And love you." You giggle. "And make you feel better." He says while placing a kiss on your lips but pulling away quickly and cringing. "Oh god, after you brush your teeth." He says while letting you go. You chuckle as you stand up, him slapping you on the behind as you walked to the bathroom.

Afterwards you and Elvis fell asleep. But when you both woke up you started to feel ill again. Elvis noticed you were looking pale so he grabbed you some water and told you to lie down. "We still have another fifteen to twenty hours left. Get comfortable. I'm going to leave this trash bin here so you don't have to go running to the bathroom next time you feel you have to throw up." He says before placing a kiss on your head and walking off.

You smiled, knowing full well that you were falling for him just as much as he was falling for you.

MASTERLIST

#elvis film #elvis music #elvis the pelvis #elvis fans #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis #elvis movie #elvis 2022 #baz lurhman #elvis history #austin butler #austin butler elvis #elvis gifs #austin butler!elvis

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tchallasbabymama · 1 year

Text

Preview of Ménage à Trois Part Deux

I'm feeling generous (also productive af), so here's an unedited preview of Chapter 1. Full chapter coming in January! Make sure you read the first part by then!

T’Challa tapped his long, slender fingers against the side of his leg, an annoyed grimace tightening his handsome face. He stood still in his quarters while his tailor put the finishing touches on his suit for the night, but internally he was getting more and more agitated as the time ticked on. Despite his mood, he couldn’t help but admire himself in the mirror. The embroidered black ensemble covered his streamlined body like running water, and the locs that usually dusted his jawbone were twisted back into an elaborate bun.

A knock at his door eased his mind momentarily, until his younger sister swept into the room in her suit that mirrored his, just with a gold scarf draped across her shoulders. T’Challa’s own shoulders slumped with disappointment, but he managed to pivot to positivity quick enough for Shuri to not catch his reaction.

“Look at you copying your big brother,” he teased her.

Shuri rolled her eyes as she crossed the room, but still dapped him up.

“Whatever. I wear it better than you.”

“Who lied and told you that?”

“Your wife.”

His jaw tightened.

“Where is she, anyway?”

“Late.”

“I should have known,” Shuri chuckled. “She was late her own wedding.”

T’Challa grunted in response, and Shuri noticed the annoyance in his voice. She put up her fists, playfully tapping him on the shoulder with a weak jab.

“Come on, bro, she’ll be here. Chill out.”

“She’s two hours late.”

“Was there a problem with the opening?”

“No. According to Okoye and Bahati, she just could not be pulled away from conversing with the crowd.”

“You know how Zora is. Or has it been so long that you’ve forgotten?” Shuri asked him dramatically, with a hand to her chest.

“Just wait until you meet someone. You’ll finally understand why being apart is so painful.”

“It’s been two weeks, T’Challa. You’ve gone away for longer on missions before.”

“Being the one left at home makes the time move slower.”

“I guess.” Shuri shrugged and plopped down on the end of his bed.

“Something bothering you?”

“Just your mother.”

T’Challa laughed.

“What did our mother do this time, Shuri?”

The princess groaned and fell backwards onto the bed.

“She won’t stop trying to set me up.”

“Who is it this time?”

“Nakia’s younger cousin, L’Nela.”

T’Challa’s face scrunched up disapprovingly. Even the tailor stopped moving the lint roller across the king’s chest for a moment to look at the princess in disbelief before continuing his job.

“She’s not your type.”

“You know that. I know that. All of Wakanda knows that! But mother is horrible at lesbian matchmaking. Bast bless her for trying, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take, brother.”

“I will talk to her.”

“Well, actually, I came to see if Zora would-“

T’Challa’s beads chimed with the tone he had reserved for his love, and his communication bead rolled down into his palm.

“Speak and she shall appear,” he grumbled as Zora’s hologram smiled up at him apologetically.

“I know, I know, I’m late-“

“Two hours, Zora?”

“I couldn’t just cut off the Ghanaian ambassador and ignore the excited children, T’Challa.”

“Brother’s been in a sour mood all day,” Shuri tattled from her spot on the bed, and Zora chuckled before her picture cut out momentarily.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed-“

“Just now?! It’s a three hour ride!”

“I needed a nap!”

“I tried to tell her,” snarked Bahati, now promoted to Zora’s assistant, as she helped her into her attire for the evening.

“Not you both ganging up on me! I can be late to my own damn event if I want to, and need I remind y’all I’m not even that late. We’ll be landing in a minute.”

“A minute?” T’Challa asked for clarification, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“More like ten, kumkani wam.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Bahati.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Bahati,” Zora mocked. “You know, sometimes I think she’s your favorite.”

“It’s because she listens.”

“Employees are paid to listen, wives are not.”

“Don’t I know it,” T’Challa smirked, and Zora mirrored the expression.

“I’ll be there soon, love.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Racing through the central African skies on the Royal Talon, Zora ended the call, and allowed the makeup artist to touch up her gold eyeshadow while Bahati zipped up the side of her backless black jumpsuit.

She knew she was pushing his nerves by running so far behind schedule, but Zora liked it when he was all worked up about one thing or another. Granted, that wasn’t actually her intention this time. She really did get caught up at the grand opening of the new Wakandan International Outreach Center in Accra, but she recognized that she should have planned for that possibility instead of booking a gala immediately after.

Zora sighed and eyeballed the beaded multicolored isicholo that sat on her vanity. Heavy truly was the head that wore the crown, especially on a day as important as this. After two years of working with T’Challa and foreign dignitaries to bring her vision to fruition, Zora was finally kicking off her student exchange program. One hundred teenage students, fifty from Wakanda and fifty from across the diaspora would trade places for a semester. Zora spent countless hours pouring over applications and hand-picking exactly who she thought would benefit most from the program, and now the diaspora students were coming to Wakanda for a warm welcome.

As exciting as all of this was, Zora couldn’t help but feel a little empty inside because in order to build relationships with the foreign dignitaries, she had to lie. Not only did she have to lie, but she also had to hide a piece of herself all because of their conservative sensibilities surrounding polyamorous relationships. They knew her as Zora Franklin, Queen of Wakanda and wife to T’Challa Udaku. What they didn’t know was that T’Challa wasn’t Zora’s only husband.

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @brihann, @impremenior , @nahimjustfeelingit-writes , @brattyfics , @cecereads209 , @afriendlyblackhottie , @queengodiva619 , @musicisme333 , @dersha89 , @ljstraightnochaser , @bornamiracle , @strangeprincex-writes , @goddessofmischief0711, @griot-of-wakanda

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fanfiction #t'challa fanfiction #m'baku fanfiction #t'challa x oc x m'baku #throuple #polyamory #bisexual #Spotify

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floresmarique · 2 months

Text

Ok so i don't know how this came up in my mind, i was just feeling pure rage inside of me and so i thought i needed to let that out with a little "female rage" type of piece. The first man that came to my mind that NEEDED that female rage was Thomas Shelby (don't take me wrong, i love him but he can be an asshole with women) also, i love seeing strong powerful man all intimidated and broken by a woman. I don't know, i hope you enjoy, let me know if you want more pieces like this one! :)

Ps. This was highly inspired by the song "Labour" by Paris Paloma (i love that song).

WARNING: pure angst, mentions of cheating, sexism, mentions of violent sex, mentions of death

Enjoy!

She was sat on their bed, white expensive sheets and pillows covered in tears as she tightened her fists into those layers of fabric where she always used to give her body to him to relieve his stress, no matter how violent he would bruise her, choke her, hurt her. He never cared.

But now she had found out that it still wasn't enough, since he had been sleeping with another woman for months. She sat on that bed, body shivering as she waited for him to return home. Nails perfectly painted of red just like her smudged lips, mascara running down her cheeks and hair completely down in a mess of curls. All dressed up, she lit up a cigarette, tapping the ash on those white sheets on purpose. She didn't care anyway, since she was never gonna sleep in that bed ever again. She looked at the clock; he was late, again.

A smirk appeared on her lips as she put out the cigarette right on the floor he was so affectionate about; he paid it millions. She ran both of her hands through her hair and stood up, the clicking of the clock getting on her nerves. Her eyes fell on her wardrobe and she stormed towards it, aggressively opening it. She saw those shoes he made her wear everywhere so that she could look taller, sexier. She took one of them in her hand and threw it on the clock, making it break and fall down on the floor. She walked towards it and kept breaking it by kicking it. Then she heard the keys moving against the door lock and she smirked again.

"What is with all this noise!" She heard him shout from the living room. Every step of Thomas getting closer to the bedroom altered the beating of her heart and the adrenaline pumping in her veins. When he opened the door, he didn't expect that mess. And he didn't even expect the luggage standing beside the bed. Before he could open his mouth to say something, she slowly walked towards him and put her finger on his lips. Then, unexpectedly, she slapped him hard across the face.

"I want you to stay silent for one fucking moment of your life." She spat and soon began with the words that were gonna cut deep inside of Thomas. "You see, Thomas, when i married you i knew what i was getting myself into. I knew i was marrying a troubled man, a gangster. But oh, how much i loved him. There really wasn't anything i could do about it. You met me when i was only 22 years old and started to seduce me, making me a part of your sick life. But i was young and naive, and you were older and so, so handsome that i simply couldn't say no to you. You were my saviour, my protector and you made me feel like a queen! Buying me every kind of thing, making love to me like i was the most precious thing your bloodied hands ever touched. And believe me, i really am the most precious thing those hands ever touched-"

Thomas was completely speechless. He didn't recognise her, his sweet and submissive girl. But he understood why all of that was happening; she knew. And he didn't have the strength to speak because that side he was seeing of his wife was completely new and that kinda intimidated him. For the first time, he didn't have control over a situation, over a person, over her.

"But then, i married you. That wedding was the best day of my life, but it was like making a deal with the devil. I soon recognised it everyday while living with you; you soon became selfish, you didn't care about me, i became your servant, ordering me around to clean the house, fucking me only to get your anger out, not giving a fuck if you left bruises on my body. Then our daughter was born and i thought that you were going to change, but no. She loved you, for sure, but where you there when she fucking died in my arms because of her illness?! Obviously not. Because you were fucking that bitch of a mistress, is that true? You were her hero and i let her die with that thought of you because i didn't want her to suffer more than she was already doing."

Tommy's eyes soon became watery and he looked down, clenching his fists. But she was not done with him, she wanted to see him completely break apart right under her eyes. So between tears and a broken voice, she kept going.

"Nothing was ever enough for you, Thomas Shelby. I kept the house clean for you, prepared you warm meals for your return at home that never was in time, gave my body to you multiple times to satisfy you and i took care of our daughter. She died young, but she died a lady and a warrior. And it was thanks to me. I have to admit that i stayed here with you only because of her, but now that she left us i have no reason to be here, to sleep by your side only to smell the perfume of another woman-"

By now, she was completely screaming at him, pure rage in her eyes. And he tried to not listen to her, to not react to those words, but the fact that what she was saying was true made it difficult for him to not react. He felt his heart shatter but he tried not to cry. However, he couldn't look at her in the eyes like he always did, and that gesture didn't go unnoticed by her.

"LOOK AT ME!" She shouted as she harshly gripped his face with her hands and when she saw his icy blue eyes completely red with tears she smirked to herself. "I'm not the young girl you met, Thomas. I'm not that girl anymore because you took everything away from me; my family, my home, my dream of a loving family. Everyday since i've been with you i always saw people being afraid of Thomas Shelby, never daring to stand up to him because it's too dangerous. But really, you don't scare me Thomas Shelby. And you could kill me right fucking now with your bare hands, but i wouldn't care. After all, that is all you can do. You ruin things, people, families, you're a killer and you can try to deny it all you want, you can take long baths, make every once in awhile a good action, but your hands will always be covered in blood."

As soon as she said those words, Thomas pinned her against the wall with his hands around her neck, tightening the grip. But she kept laughing in his face.

"Go on, Thomas, kill me. Reveal yourself once again. The killer you are. When i'll meet our daughter in heaven i'll tell her that it was her daddy that sent me there, because her daddy is only a selfish asshole that isn't capable of doing one thing right!"

Suddenly, she pulled out a gun from the long skirt she was wearing and that made Thomas jump back. She pointed it right at his head, which made him gulp. Never in his life he would've thought that the person that would be able to face him was gonna be his loving and sweet wife.

"Dumb of you to think that i really was gonna get murdered by you. You already took too much from my life, you're never gonna take my fucking life." Tears were now dried out on her face, her eyes were shining of satisfaction and revenge. She looked at him dead in the eyes with her head help up high. "Now i want you to listen to me closely; i'm gonna leave you, this house and this town and never come back here ever again. You are gonna fill the papers for our divorce and i don't wanna hear a fucking word from you while you do it. Then, i'll go away forever and i never want to see your face again, or i won't hesitate with the gun. You let me go and you'll be able to live your sick and unfaithful life without the thought of a wife waiting for you at home. Sounds like a great deal, eh?"

Thomas was in total shock at everything. He didn't feel like all of that was real, he couldn't believe it was. She was really fucking with his mind. He opened his mouth, hesitantly, with the gun still pointed at him.

"Listen, can we-"

"No." She immediately cut him off. "On the desk in your study there are all the papers to fill for the divorce. I don't have all night because i'm gonna take the train soon, so you better be quick."

Thomas couldn't say anything anymore and he knew that. After all, he knew deep down that he had treated her bad and that he was no worthy of her presence and her love, but it still hurt. He was pale, cheeks wet with tears and full of nausea. Followed by her, he walked towards his study and found the papers of the divorce scattered on his desk. He took the pen and looked at her one last time in the eyes with a pleading gaze, a gaze that was soon returned with a cold one. So he filled those papers under her eyes, and soon the woman he thought would always be by his side no matter his attitude and the difficulties, was gone. All he was left with was her wedding ring and some of their photos pinned to the walls around the big house.

Thomas sat on their old bed, still with those white expensive sheets on. He looked around at the mess in the room, at the broken clock, at the ash on the bed, the cigarette on the floor, the broken heel of those shoes he loved so much on her. How did everything escalate so quickly? He didn't know. All he knew was that he was a lost man now, with no one by his side. Alone in his tragedy.

And he cried. And cried, and cried...

#thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby #thomas shelby one shot #angst #female rage #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #sad

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