#Eva green fanfic

[notanotherstory]

Mistle-toeing

Warnings: fluff, a really annoying "i-don't-know-limits" man.

Word count: 4.5k

Disclaimer: this was the first lil thing I wrote about Angie. I do hope you enjoy it <3

Morning came and you groaned as your alarm rang and pulled you out of dreamland. You pulled your arm from under the covers and slapped it off, proceeding to stretch and swing your legs to the side of the bed, putting one foot in front of the other before opening the curtains and getting hit by the morning light. 

You rubbed your eyes and blinked repeatedly as they adjusted to the light, getting ready for a much needed shower that’d finally wake you up. It was going to be a long, long, day, you thought, before stepping under the stream of warm water and letting your dreams wash away with it.

As you walked through the streets of Collinsport, you pulled on the brown, thick coat you wore, trying - and failing - to hide your nose from the cold so it wouldn’t turn rudolph red. 

Quickly, you entered the building and shuddered at the change of temperature, ruffling your hair to get rid of the snow that had collected in it, and running your hands along your coat to clean it up from the little white particles that had stuck to it. Rubbing your hands together to warm them up a little bit, your eyes scanned the place.The sight was not the usual; and the energy felt different. A good kind of different.

The office was decorated all around, giving the usually white, clean, serious and cold surrounding, a cozier feeling. An elegantly decorated tree sat next to the coffee machine, which now had an addition of delicious ginger cookies on the counter, along with garlands up on the walls and some wreaths hanging in between them, finished with lights adorning the cubicles, everything strategically placed so it was a harmonious look. Funnily enough, everyone seemed just as surprised as you were. In the few months you’d been around, you had never heard of the office celebrating any kind of festivity, but, well… Here you were, with decorations along the office boxes, Christmas music playing in the background (you recognized Sinatra’s Let it Snow) and Nancy, Angie’s secretary (and your confidante) wearing a Santa hat. You guessed this was her making, and you couldn’t fathom how she had convinced Angie Bouchard to let this happen. 

As you walked by Nancy, you waved shyly at her, mouthing a “Good morning, Nance” and receiving a big smile in return, followed by a wink - you didn’t get the reason for the last gesture, but you knew she always knew things you didn’t. To be honest… you were quite oblivious.

Absentmindedly walking towards your desk, the decorations distracted you from the pair of cobalt eyes following your every move, like a predator stalking its prey, silently, meticulously, and waiting until you had reached your designed space, still staring and assessing your reaction to the changes.

You dropped your leather bag on the desk unceremoniously and hung your coat on the chair, starting your computer to check for the new mails - but something felt off. A glimpse of red showed up on the corner of your eye, and you rapidly turned your head towards the salient colour. There was a gift sitting on your desk. You stared suspiciously at the neatly wrapped box that sported a ruby red colour, finished with a golden bow. No one in the office was too close to you, so this was quite the surprise. Carefully lifting the box while looking for the tag, you instead found a neat card that had your name elegantly written on it, alongside a small message;

“Y/N,

A little birdie told me you had been staring at these for quite some time.

I do hope you enjoy them thoroughly.

P.S., I see you’ve got good taste. Very nice choices.”

You turned the card around to find any kind of initial or name, but ended up with nothing. Saving the little card safely on your bag, you pulled on the ends of the ribbon and watched it fall lightly on the desk. The tips of your fingers grazed the red wrapping paper, feeling its soft texture and travelled down the softness of it until it met one of the seams; your nails picked on the scotch tape and lifted it, being meticulous enough so it wouldn’t tear. 

After you pulled the box out, you kept trying to figure out what it could be. And when it opened, you had to bite your lower lip to keep the grin from taking over your whole face, yet still jumped up and down in your spot excitedly. Inside it there were two of the vinyls you had been looking at the store for the past two weeks, but always decided to not buy them just yet: Herbie Hancock’s Crossings, and Santana’s Caravanserai. 

You were a huge music geek, and these were recently out. You looked around hoping to recognize something in someone’s eyes or expression, any tell-tale sign, but only found Nancy’s warm eyes; “Oh!” you exclaimed. 

In one of your many conversations with Angie’s secretary, you had gushed about one of these two albums and how much you absolutely loved Christmas, considering it was big back at home. You set the vinyls back on the box and walked towards Nancy, but before you could open your mouth, she spoke without even drifting her eyesight from the computer screen. 

“That was not me, dear.” You cocked an eyebrow up and a quizzical look took over your features. “Well - if it wasn’t you, then…” Nancy looked up at you and shrugged innocently. “I have no idea, darling. But they do seem to be paying attention to you.” With that, you decided to drop the topic and go back to work; god knows the secretary would not spill any more information. Jesus, this woman could get caught by the CIA and keep everyone’s secret’s safe, acting like she knew absolutely nada. And even when you tried to avoid your workload, you had a lot to catch up on. Yet, you found yourself looking back at the little card and reading it repeatedly during the day, smiling at the neat handwritten message.

The day passed by fairly quickly, and you were drained. Meetings, mails, getting ready for the end of the year at Angel’s Bay meant absolute mayhem, you learned. The thought of a warm cup of hot chocolate and a good Christmas movie under the warm covers of your bed, in the safety of your little flat made you yearn for the end of the shift, when you could finally relax. With that in mind, you finished typing the document you were working on and stood up from your chair, quickly making your way towards the coffee counter, eyes focused on the warm cups of chocolate that Nancy had just put down, turning towards you to gift you a soft, caring smile. You loved that woman to bits, and she knew you had been having a hard time lately. Christmas was not a day you were used to spending alone, so the thought of it had been taking a toll on you the past week. Of course, Nancy was constantly checking on you and doing small things to cheer you up - asking about your day and if you ate, to which you would roll your eyes playfully and answer while chuckling “Yes, mom”, or leaving candy canes on your desk, and now preparing your favourite thing ever; hot chocolate. She left the tray and kept walking forward towards her desk, which was right next to Angie’s office.

You grabbed the warm, white cup and the sweet smell of chocolate invaded your senses, bringing you the comfort you were looking for. There were small marshmallows on top as well, and you had to contain your excitement to avoid squealing like a little kid from the happiness it brought you. 

While you were immersed in your hot chocolate cup, you didn’t realize who was walking towards you, until your personal space seemed to be awfully invaded by a strong cologne that reeked of musk - not the good kind. You don’t know what you despised the most; the smell or the person who came along with it. 

Freaking Jack from the sales department. Another of the smug assholes who never took “no” for an answer, because his fragile ego could not take it. He’d been trying to get your attention since the first day you started working at Angel’s Bay, taking advantage of any situation he had to brag about himself - god, he was so full of himself. Today was not the exception. The rest of the girls in the office swooned over him; it was sort of like a Belle and Gastón kinda situation. Terrible, to say the least. 

You heard him clear his throat and rolled your eyes before plastering the most fake smile you could manage, turning back to look at him.

“Jack.”

“Y/N, what a coincidence” Not. 

“Yeah, well, considering we work on the same floor, I'd call it a very probable event.” You said, matter-of-factly. You knew he had spent the last 5 minutes looking around for you, and you actively avoided him. It’s not that you disliked him… No, no, it was that you disliked him. A lot.

He laughed forcibly at your statement, flashing you what should be considered a perfect grin, but instead came off as straight up weird. “Oh, aren’t you a funny one” 

Realizing how close he was, you took a few steps back, and he followed suit, playing aloof while talking about his day, not bothering to ask you about yours, until you were standing in front of the tree, and very much cornered. You hugged the mug to your chest and felt it warm your skin up, looking around nervously, meeting Nancy’s eyes and praying she saw the apprehension in yours and came in to save you from this idiot, who wouldn’t stop talking.

Speaking of the devil, you saw a sharp, mischievous smile form on his lips, and you knew he had come up with some sort of plan to make you even more uncomfortable. He had his eyes glued to the ceiling, and for a moment you thought he had just… rebooted himself. Who knows.

Following Jack’s eyes, your own gaze sat on the pointy green leaves that accompanied the white, round fruit, delicately placed with a red bow over your heads. Of course you had to be standing under the one mistletoe that was up. You mentally facepalmed as soon as your mind registered the little plant, and you regreted every single decision that had taken you to this situation.

“Well, well, well… Seems like we have found ourselves under the mistletoe, my dearest y/n”. His voice lowered in an attempt to sound seductive, and it only made you want to smack the satisfaction off of his face. He grabbed the mug from your hands and left it back on the counter, not giving you a chance to speak before talking once again. “You know what it means. And it’s tradition, lovely y/n.” 

You were at a loss for words as you felt his rough hands grab you by the waist and pull you against him, as your hands landed on his chest and you attempted to keep him away. 

“Jack - this is not funny. Back off, please.”

The rest of the office had started speaking in whispers and hushed laughs, presencing Jack’s shenanigan as if it were nothing but a simple joke. They watched amused, except for two pairs of eyes. One belonging to Nancy, of course, and the other cobalt blue pair throwing daggers with her eyes, ready to strike.

“As I said, it’s tradition, y/n. Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill. I promise you’ll like it.” He said smugly, while leaning in.

You were so lost in thinking about what to do and how to kick the man and get away from his grubby hands, you didn’t even listen to the faint clicking of heels that had sent the whole office scrambling back to their desks and work, as well as the cold silence that had taken over. You could only hear your own blood pumping in your ears, until the clicking of the heels stopped. And Jack’s face looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Such a pretty face stuck on the body of a useless man. If I were you, I would leave this instant. That is, if you wish to keep your hands.” Her words seethed with venom, eyes shining brightly and sporting a menacing look, alongside an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on dancing on her deep blue orbs. Was it hatred? Jealousy? No, it couldn’t be. She stared at his hands grabbing your waist, which were quickly dropped and followed by an amount of excuses Angie was clearly not interested in listening to. 

“Listen up, boy. You better gather your things immediately and leave the building within the next 10 minutes, or you’ll suffer a much, much terrible destiny. Your reputation is already ruined as it is.” She spoke without paying mind to the man, now a stuttering mess, who left the moment she had gone silent.

You dreaded the thought of being on his spot… Until you realized you were next. “Shit.” You said quietly, breathing deeply and getting as ready as you could to confront the upcoming interaction.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A fucking mistletoe. A single piece of dangly fruit that hung over your head, reminding you of the promise it brought, mocking you with its gentle swaying. You swore that if it could talk, it’d laugh at you. One little mistletoe that had gotten you in this mess.

“Fuck - fuck fuck fuck” you thought, as your eyes tried to set on anything but the alluring woman in front of you, her red, full, pouty lips, the defined jawline and high cheekbones, the softness of her porcelain-like skin, the intensity of her cobalt eyes that added to that ethereal, almost unrealistic look - no, nope. Stop. Stop thinking about it.

You didn’t even need to look at her. Instead, your eyes were glued to the floor, which suddenly became extremely interesting. Your gaze set on anything and everything it could. You probably never payed this much attention to the rugs before, but you had decided the best idea was to count every single damn thread in it, if it meant you could avoid the situation. Still, the air seemed to thicken, and you could feel the wicked smile setting on her ruby red lips as she looked at what hung over your heads, completely understanding what it meant. Suddenly, you felt hot under that piercing stare that turned your cheeks bright red and made the shirt you were wearing feel a tad bit too tight. 

The way your name left her lips made you feel like your knees had turned to liquid, and you swore they buckled slightly. Her voice was all that was tempting in this world - sultry, velvety tone, honey-dripping. Christ, even the foulest of words would feel like a damn poem coming out of her mouth. You could only imagine what it would be like in a more intimate setting, your name leaving her lips with passion and lust. And god, you wanted to hear that prayer repeatedly. You only thought of worshipping her.

Your thoughts didn’t matter anymore - there was simply no way you’d get more flustered. She repeated your name, two, three times, before grabbing your chin in between her thumb and index finger, softly raising it, forcing you to redirect your eyes back up. You peered up at her through your eyelashes, as she dropped her hand and pushed a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. Your lips parted at the glimpse of her features, the same features that had flooded your dreams countless times. An almost inaudible sight left your mouth, and you wanted to convince yourself she had not noticed; but you knew she did, she always did. Her right eyebrow lifted ever so slightly, and there was the ghost of a pleased smile on her lips, before she spoke again and broke the obvious ogling you had going on. 

Your throat felt dry and you cleared your throat to avoid the crack of your voice, because the last thing you needed was to falter in front of the one and only Angie Bouchard.

“I’m beginning to think the floor is much more interesting than listening to me, y/n. I did not know I could be so uninteresting.” She said in a scolding manner, yet there was a tint of playfulness that bathed the statement.

That was the last drop you needed, and like a dam breaking, your words spilled out quickly, without a single thought behind them. You just needed to say something.

“I - I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t know there was a mistletoe and I don’t really know who put it up here but I just wanted a cup of hot chocolate and, well, you know, Jack arrived too and - I am very aware of the rules but it… it wasn’t like that I promise, I - why is there a mistletoe there? I swore it wasn’t when I got here!” your nervousness expressed itself on rambling, speaking without even taking a breath, while Angie watched clearly amused at your nervousness. She tilted her head to the left and her soft blonde hair followed the motion, falling over her shoulder until it set properly. She let out a soft chuckle that echoed in the floor, as everyone watched the exchange with curious eyes. The realization of the scene made you shut your eyes with shame and sigh defeatedly.

You didn’t know if she was about to have your head on a platter and fire you in front of everyone, scold you as if you were a five year old brat, or just leave without saying another word.

And you didn’t know what option was worse. But in between the plethora of scenes and options you ruminated, the upcoming one was definitely not in the books.

“So, tell me, did you like your gift?” She said, redirecting the conversation. You paused and narrowed your eyes at her. “Gift? What gift - wait. That was you?” Your voice had shown more shock than you would’ve liked to, but to be fair, it was pretty damn shocking. 

Angie smiled, pleased with herself and your reaction, nodding once. “I had a little help, but someone told me this festivity is quite the big deal for you…” You shook your head and recovered the words you’d been missing. “I loved it. You didn’t have to, boss.”

She rolled her eyes and softened her gaze. “Drop the formalities, darling, you can call me Angie. And I’m glad you liked it. Nancy worked hard on the decorations of the floor.”

Of course the secretary was in all of this. You giggled and hid your face in your hands, shaking your head side to side. “A little birdie, huh? So it was Nancy.”

“Well, she told me about one of the albums, and the hot chocolate. Technically, there were two little birdies. The owner of the shop told me how much time you spent there looking at Santana’s vinyl. I didn’t need to do much, one stare and the information was there, willing and able.” She shrugged unapologetically before speaking up once more. This time, the timing of her words was slower, more thought out, and felt very private. She lowered her voice and inched closer to you, the mistletoe still dancing over your heads. And you were far too aware of it, your eyes travelling up quickly, before locking back with Angie’s.

“As for the Christmas decorations… You do get loud when you speak about something you like, don’t you know that? Whether it's music, festivities, or… people.” The last word made your blood run cold and the smile dissipate from your lips - her voice dropped and seemed to be impossibly attractive, but all you could think about was the fact that Angie found out about your crush. Detail, big fat detail: your crush on her.

Considering how many times you had spoken to Nancy about your admiration for Angie, and how every single one of those times she’d tease you -“Wipe the drool from off your face, y/n” she’d lean in and whisper- either for how you couldn’t stop smiling when speaking about the blonde enchantress, how your eyes lit up when she passed by (and how you’d get flustered every single time) or for every time you looked at her a little too long, you mentally scolded yourself for doing it in front of her office. Not the smartest of moves if you’re trying to keep it a secret.

“I - Oh.”  She nodded softly and repeated your words “Yes, oh.”

The silence fell heavy between you, and the energy shifted into a tense, addicting feeling. You were sure you could feel electricity surging between both of you, and you definitely didn’t miss Angie’s eyes looking up at the mistletoe. “Ah, the infamous mistletoe. Shouldn’t we honour the tradition, then?” Her voice seemed impossibly seductive, and you were sure this is how mermaids had to speak - it was far too enticing, far too consuming.

She inched closer and snaked her arm behind your waist, pulling you in, hips snug against each other. You felt the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest, synchronizing your own breathing to hers. The proximity made you extremely nervous, and you kept breathing in her perfume, that intoxicating scent that made your brain go into overdrive and your heart beat faster. Your eyes followed the outline of her lips and marvelled at the way the light and shadow mixed and hit them, making them look even better. The lights of the tree twinkled softly and reflected on her eyes, which transformed them into the most beautiful starry sky; a universe in its own. You had gotten lost in the thought of them countless times, and here you were, staring right at them, feeling completely vulnerable and transparent, like she could read your mind. 

Her right hand travelled up to your neck, thumb, index and middle finger pressing softly on each side of it as it looked for your pulse points, not leaving the spot once they had found it. You were inches apart, and as if the teasing was already not enough, she gently pressed the first kiss on the corner of your mouth, moving to the other side, doing the same thing before putting some distance between both. “Is this okay?” She said softly. You could barely nod, absolutely immersed in the situation.

After your confirmation, she brushed your lips against hers before pressing them softly. You wanted to remember every sensation, the plump feeling of your lips against her, the softness of her mouth, the intoxicating scent, her electric touch. You felt her hands grab your waist and press down, her nails digging in your skin with just the right amount of pressure, and you relaxed against the kiss. 

Angie lightly slid her tongue across your bottom lip as if asking for permission, which you dutifully granted. You drew a deep, staggered breath at the surge of sensations and the heat you felt coursing your whole body. The kiss grew intense as she sucked on your lips and a shallow hum escaped her, completely pleased at the feeling she evoked on you and how you felt.

She tasted like a sweet, addicting nectar. And right then and there, you knew there was nothing you’d crave more in your life. Nothing that felt more right than this. Her body responded to yours and they moulded perfectly together, your primal needs clawing its way to the surface, and begging, begging you to not let her go. And so, your hands locked behind her slender neck, pulling her impossibly closer. They moved towards her face and caressed her cheek softly.

You swore you could feel your heart push through your chest as Angie’s left hand left your waist, which immediately missed the pressure and warmth of her touch, travelling through your upper body to set roots on top of your fastly beating heart. You felt so alive - and she felt it too, smiling through the kiss at the amount of power she held over your fragile heart, knowing, deeply knowing, you were hers. Her nails raked over your heart as she bit down on your lower lip and growled, “mine”. And there was simply no way you could ever contradict that statement, for the woman had been the owner of your heart since the moment you set eyes on her. 

The tidal wave of lust that had washed over both of you slowly started to set once you parted from the kiss to allow air into your burning lungs. Still dazed from the experience, you were sure you’d wake up from the dream at any given second. Angie’s thumb still ran across your lips reassuringly, her pupils blown wide, black against cobalt blue with shimmering lights reflecting from the tree. All danger, adventures and strong desire, a reckless sea, a new odyssey - and with all the trouble it might come, you knew it was absolutely worth it. 

Exhaling and taking a step back from you - which made you miss her warmth immediately - the blonde woman intertwined your fingers with hers, squeezing your hand before looking back at the rest of the office, which had seen the exchange and were staring slack-jawed.

“I do not like it when people touch things that belong to me. Good thing I put up that mistletoe and everyone knows who you belong to, now.” She winked at you, and before you could open your mouth to protest, shut you up by pressing one last soft kiss to your lips.  Angie hummed in approval while assessing the messy red tint on your mouth; her work made her chest fill with pride, before wiping the red stains from your mouth as best as she could, although she liked the view, the mark she’d left on you. Somehow hers didn’t seem messy at all.

Before you realized, Angie was walking towards your desk, pulling you along with her, ignoring the staring and whispers. Confused, you followed like a lost puppy. Honestly, you’d go anywhere she took to you, without thinking about it.

“Grab your things, darling. We’re not done yet.” She purred. 

You were completely entranced, and stumbled over your desk to grab your things, as she stared amused at your clumsiness. Once you had your coat, bag and gift, you looked at the muse in front of you and waited for instructions. She went into her office and gathered her purse and car keys, before saying goodbye to Nancy. You did the same thing, earning a sly smile from the old lady behind the computer. 

“Take the rest of the day, Nancy. Go enjoy it with your family.” Angie said, sauntering towards the door with a hand possessively set on your waist. You were sure you’d faint if she kept this going.

“Well, dear. What is it that we’re going to do to enjoy our first Christmas together?” She spoke while turning the car on. You held onto those words like a promise, like an oath, and giggled at the thought of what a little plant could do.

[agathaandbrienneslesbian]

Eva Green Masterlist

🌸 = Fluff // 🔥 = SMUT // ⚡️= angst // 🌤️ = Hurt/Comfort

Angelique Bouchard

coming soon

Vanessa Ives

coming soon

Morgan Pendragon

coming soon

Alma Peregrine

coming soon

[evagreen-stories]

Mother’s madness | (Aemond x f!lowborn!reader) (3/?)

Summary: Aemond, troubled by his unfruitful marriage and the stress of the war, takes himself a bed slave when he seizes Harrenhal and gets more attached to her than he ever thought possible. Bringing her to the Red Keep after he needs to leave Harrenhal would not go as he hoped it would, especially after the birth of the babes he sired onto her.

Warnings: mentions of violence, light angst (kinda?), canon typical misogyny, canon typical behaviour, dark!aemond, abusive!aemond, forced relationship, forced impregnantion, canon typical classicism, mentions of assault, stockholm syndrom (kind of), non-canon storyline

Author's note: Short little chapter but at last, an update!

Divider @targaryen-dynasty

< part 2 masterlist

By the time Aemond had made all his reports, listened to the yappings of all the council members and sat through hours of further strategy planning, he wanted to rip out each strand of his hair.

It was hard for him to focus already, the worries over his precious bed slave and her madness over their, over his, sons had all but consumed every part of his mind, and yet, odd stares from his mother and grand maester Orwyle made him all the more restless.

Finally, the council meeting was concluded and the Lords left the room. Aemond would watch in silence as Criston helped the struggling king to his feet and down the stairs.

Aegon had been burned and injured gravely during the battle at Rooks Rest over a year ago where Meleys had ingulfed him and his dragon in dragonfire, but he was growing more and more capable these days and managed to attend the council meetings from time to time.

Still, Aemond remained the prince regent, but would sit opposite of the king’s seat at the foot of the long wooden table whenever his brother was in attendance.

From there, he watches as neither his mother nor Orwyle made any attempts to move from their seats, just as he didn’t.

Sitting in tense silence for several moments, Aemond eventually fixates on the elder man to his right. Glaring at him, his voice is little more than a growl, he asks,

“Care to explain to me what is going on with my mistress?”

Orwyle takes a moment to answer, shifting nervously in his seat and glancing to the dowager queen sitting opposite of him before turning his attention back to the prince regent.

“Your mistress, my prince, would appear to suffer from some sort of birth induced mania. It happens from time to time, unfortunately.” He states before carefully adding. “Mothers of such circumstance… they should be separated from the child. They are unable to care for the babes and may harm them during manic episodes.”

Aemond’s face hardens, his jaw clenching. “She is perfectly capable to care for my sons. I have gone to meet her already. I do not believe for a moment she suffers from true madness.”

“She does.” Alicent speaks up. “She would chase anyone out of her room, preferably with the nearest sharp object in hand. Your whore is incapable of caring for your sons.”

“That is a lie!” Aemond snaps his head to her. “What would you even know of this? She and what I do with her is none of your concern, I have told you so a hundred times already.”

“I am your mother. Mind your tongue when talking to me.” The red-haired woman hisses before continuing. “I am also the dowager queen and queen mother. With the queen still occupied in her grief, the Red Keep is my responsibility in your absence. That makes your whore and her spawn my responsibility as well. I needed to deal with the drama she caused. Had she not locked herself away I can assure you, this matter would have long been settled already.”

“Settled?” Aemond scoffs. “And what would that have looked like? Taken my sons from her? And then what?”

“Most certainly. And she must receive treatment-“

“Treatment? What would your great treatment entail?”

“Treatment varies from individual to individual. It remains to be seen what methods work best on her. Is that not right, grand maester?” Alicent urges Orwyle to speak up.

“…yes. Yes, your grace. It is difficult to predict which treatments will work best on her.” The man nods softly.

Aemond was well aware of how maesters would attempt to cure madness. Their methods would be torturous. His own methods of bringing her into full submission when he first claimed her would seem tame in comparison. His stomach turns at the thought of what they would have done to her in his abscence had she not kept her door locked at all times.

“You will do no such thing.” Aemond growls. “No one but me touches her. No one but me will make any decision on any treatments. She is not mad. The babes are healthy. There is no need to intervene.”

“Now they are. But they weren’t always. Your children should be supervised by maesters not by some deranged lowborn.” Alicent retorts.

Aemond furrows his brows, looking at his mother in disbelief. His y/n hadn’t said anything of the sorts. “Now? Now? What is that supposed to mean?”

After another nod from the dowager queen, Orwyle explains, “It… appears we might have miscalculated the day of conception. The babes came early, it seems. Weak, very small, frail. It borders on a miracle the boys live, my prince.”

Aemond stares at him dumbfounded. He held his sons just a few hours earlier, they seemed well. Plumb, full of life. Not just that, he himself had been there when they conceived. He was sure his seed took the very first night that he dragged her to his bed near a year ago. He had watched her belly swell even before he brought her here to the Red Keep.

It made no sense the babes were born sickly when not a single issue had been encountered before. Not even when she was going about her duties of tending to him with little struggle. Well, as long as she could sit down, lay on her side and not have to bend over, that is.

The maesters voice brings him out of his thoughts. “It is best the babes be closely supervised by maesters and raised by experienced nursemaids and wetnurses. Your… mistress should not have them. Mad or not, she will not be able to provide your sons with the care they need to survive.”

Aemond had always been a stubborn man. Perhaps it was his thick head that made him refuse the maesters urging, or perhaps it was his trust is his little bed slave that did so. She was a pure hearted woman, her heart soft. She had learned her new place in life quickly, she had not once betrayed him or given him any reason to doubt her.

She had nothing to gain from lying to him but everything to lose.

She was so convinced of the maesters wanting to steal their children, it could not be a mistake. She would not beg him for help and forgo all formalities with him unless she was truly afraid.

Aemond’s thoughts and emotions were in turmoil now, struggling to discern the truth between y/n’s words, the words of his mother and the grand maester, and the facts he knew to be true.

Staring off at the empty king’s chair in the distance, his voice is little more than a murmur when he asks, “What do you even care for? She’s nothing but a whore in your eyes. You see my sons as bastards only. Why do you care for what happens to them?”

Aemond freezes at his mother’s following shameless reply. He can’t believe she would just state something like this as if it was nothing unusual. It would seem little more than an odd phrasing of words to some but with his suspicions in mind, it's all the confirmation he needs.

“She is a whore, yes. She has seduced you so she can live in luxury far above her station. You’re just a foolish young man with no control of his urges. But… the fact remains that you have no heir. With only a daughter and no sons, they could be of good use to you had you done your wife the courtesy of putting them into her belly instead.”

His gaze cold as ice, he stares at her, never once looking away as he growls. “So it’s true what y/n says? That you plan to steal my sons from her and give them to Floris?”

Alicent seems taken aback, her surprised expression shortly finding Orwyle’s startled one before quickly moving back to her son. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y/n.” Aemond says firmly. “She says she has heard someone say it. That you tasked the maesters to take my sons from her and give them to Floris.”

Alicent remains quiet for a while before her own face hardens. Straightening her posture and keeping her hands clasped firmly in front of her on the table, she begins to lecture her son.

“You have a lady wife, Aemond. A respectable, honorable lady wife of high birth. Princess Floris has given you a daughter already and served you faithfully.” She begins. “The only thing you still need is a legitimate son. With your wife’s recent stillbirth during your absence, it would be easy to arrange so. Give your whore’s sons to her. Or just one, even. You can pass him off as hers and have your-“

“ENOUGH!” Aemond roars, his fists slamming onto the table as he stands up, the chair loudly scraping across the floor. “I will not hear of this! How DARE you try and steal my sons from y/n!”

Alicent’s face remains resolute, her chin held up high in defiance, while Orwyle looks like he wants to vanish beneath the floor.

“I did what needed to be done. Stop coddling your whore, Aemond. Let her pay back for living on the crown’s cost and causing your lady wife distress. Let her produce the boys and you make them heirs, as the sons of you and Princess Floris.”

Mouth hanging open, Aemond can barely believe what his mother is saying. “If anyone has gone mad here, it is you, not her.” He says firmly. “I cannot believe you would betray me like this. Go against my orders, willing to harm my y/n.”

He glares down at his mother as he continues, “Floris will not have my sons. She does NOT deserve them. She has failed me. Failed as my wife, failed as a woman. My mistress has done within a year what that bitch of a wife could not manage in five. Y/n will keep my sons and all other children I will put into her belly and all of them will be made my heirs. Not as Floris’s children, but as y/n’s. I will legitimize them at once and have them declared as my heirs.”

“Have you lost your mind?!” Alicent is the one yelling now. “You cannot do that! Think of the shame that it would bring to your wife! Of how it will disrupt our ally with the Baratheon’s!”

“She is the one that brings shame to me!” Aemond shouts back, his face filled with pure rage and hatred. “It is her failing that has made me the laughingstock across the realm! Made me the maimed prince whose cock does not work! Now they will no longer laugh, now that I have my sons! Lord Borros praised me her fertility but delivered a woman unable to carry a child properly. It is his own doing our alliance has faltered. He will not speak against my y/n or our sons. He will accept them as my heirs. He will remain loyal to our side or I will personally fly south and turn Storm’s End into a second Harrenhal!”

With that, Aemond throws the nearest cups and parchments off the table before turning on his heel to make his way out the door, curses at his mother and wife flowing out his mouth as he does so.

In his rage, Aemond makes his way to the training yard, the urge to stab one of the dummies repeatedly or challenge one of the poor squires to a duel overwhelming him.

< part 2 masterlist

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Finally, Always, & Forever ~Dark!Miss Peregrine xFem Immortal!Reader

@athenodora-sulpicia-writer Request- Miss Peregrine; If you do can you write a one shot with the numbers, 2, 60 and 62 from your Mummy Masterlist all for a female reader/character? And if you write it about Miss Peregrine can you make it dark Miss P?

Hey @athenodora-sulpicia-writer !! Thanks for the request and your patience 😊 I had fun researching Miss P and now I’m happy to say that I can write for her! I got some inspiration from @valentineisrotting on this one 🙃 And I also found a Stela Cole song to go along with it! To me, Love Like Mine appeals to the dark and sacrificial nature of Miss P’s love in this plus the “I’m so good that I’ll make you wanna stay up” line😫 (and much more but that’s the main point). Hope you Enjoy 💋

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#2. “Be a good girl and tie yourself to the bed posts”

#60. “You broke the rules…”

#62. “I might do something I’ll regret…”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, little angst, little fluff, forbidden love (sort of but not really), kissing, eating out, fingering, punishment, overstimulation, gagging, mistress kink, praise kink, implied degrading kink, implied age gap (all legal), etc.

Enjoy (;

She’d told you to never visit. Not that she didn’t want you to… Hell, she longed for you to. No, because she was afraid they’d catch you.

See, you had what the scientists longed for… True Immortality. That was your peculiarity. You weren’t a simple child anymore, and if had gotten harder and harder to conceal with time. So out of preservation of both your lives, Alma had forbid you from coming to see her in her loops. It was letters only.

But once you’d heard of her loop nearly being damn near destroyed… You couldn’t help the urge to run into the arms of your lover to see if all was well.

You had heard from a friend that Miss Peregrine and her peculiar children had found a new home near New Zealand. So you travelled there and lo and behold, you found the rumored loop and house corresponding with it. You entered and walked through the front gate.

And next to the front door, talking to one of her children, stood the one and only, Alma Peregrine. You suddenly felt all childish again. You’d broken her only rule. But you didn’t care enough about that right now.

As you stood there from afar, mouth agape at your lover, Alma sensed something in the air had changed. You had started to walk up the front path to the house, when her gaze caught yours. A myriad of emotions washed over face.

Anger. Sadness. Pure joy. A little lust…?

As you walked up the house steps, Alma sent her child inside.

Before she could say anything, you began, “I know you told me… not to come… but…” you found yourself a stuttering mess, “but then I heard about you almost getting killed…?! And I just thought that I needed to know you were alright…”

Your gaze met hers as you hit your lips and blushed, unsure what she would do. Suddenly, it was like something broke inside the raven haired goddesses eyes. You gasped lightly as you were suddenly in her tight embrace.

“I was so worried for you…” she whispered.

Your eagerly returned her hug. Her lips peppering kisses all over your face and neck.

“Me? I was worried for you… Are you safe now…?” You whispered.

She nodded and pulled away slightly, growing more distant all of a sudden. Her gaze becoming darker.

“Love…?”

“Even though we’re safe now… You still broke the rules, my dear…”

Your breath hitched slightly. Light blush crept up your cheeks as you apprehensively nodded in recognition of your disobedience.

“I might do something I’ll regret…” She warily warned you.

Afterall, she hadn’t seen you in ages. And now she was getting a chance to lay hands on you once more. At her full Control. She wanted to check in with you first.

“I don’t care.” You whispered, “Use me. Fuck me. Edge me. I’m yours.”

At that, she smirked and nodded, her hand crept up your shoulder, as she brought her lips to the shell of your ear.

“Second floor, last door on the right…” she husked, “Be a good girl and tie yourself to the bed posts…”

Your breath hitched yet again.

“Yes mistress…” you whimpered, scurrying into the house and up the stairs.

You didn’t even register to explain your presence to her children, whom you passed along the way. Luckily, Alma had you covered on that front. As you stripped and dug around her closet for her signature black lace ties, Alma explained to her children a bit about you and your presence here.

When she came into her room, you were struggling in tying your second wrist to the bedposts. You’d already ties both your feet and your left wrist. The raven haired beauty chuckled lightly, and shutting the door, she came over to you.

“Let me help you, dear…” she purred, easily tying your wrist to the bedpost.

You and she both knew this was the nicest she was going to get tonight. After that, her tone and gaze went straight dark. The kind of darkness that made your thighs clench and your breath shallow… She then moved to the edge of the bed, taking in your entire form.

“You broke the rules…” she repeated, this time with an sharp edge to her tone.

You gulped.

“I did, mistress.” You whimpered, squirming under your restraints.

She hummed in satisfaction of your recognition.

“I haven’t touched you in ages…” she wickedly purred, licking her lips.

Even after all this time, it wasn’t hard to remember that she liked verbal answers…

“No, you haven’t, mistress…” you breathily whimpered.

“Safe words?”

“Green for good, yellow for pause, red for stop, and three taps for stop if I can’t speak.”

The raven haired woman hummed in recognition and then began stripping in front of you without another word. You whimpered lightly at the sight of her body, adorning a jaw-dropping sleek, black lingerie set. Your little sounds did not go unnoticed by the other woman. She then climbed on the bed, crawling on top of you.

“You’ll have to be quiet. I won’t have the children hearing your leud sounds.” She warned, “I will gag you if you can’t keep those pretty lips closed.”

You nodded vigorously, pursing your lips together tightly.

~~~

You knew she would punish you for breaking her rules, but fuck…

Why did she have to be so fucking skilled at it…?!

Her tongue dipped into your precious cunt tasting the juices of yet another orgasm which she had pulled out of you. You were a shaking, stuttering mess, who was desperately trying to stay quiet. But your head fell back in pure bliss as her tongue slotted itself inside your core once more.

“Fuck yessssss…” you hissed, tugging on your restraints.

At this, Alma cocked her head up and removed her tongue fully from your heated center. You hit back the whimper which was bound to try and escape you. The raven haired goddess then got up without another word and grabbed your knickers, shoving them in your mouth and effectively gagging you.

~~~

The stamina of this woman, you couldn’t…

She’d been bringing you over the edge for hours, punishing you with the double edged sword of overstimulation. One particular lick to your sensitive and puffy clit, sent you spiraling and spasming. Your back arched and you screamed into your knickers in response.

“Yes, sweet girl, I know your mistresses tongue feels so good. But why are you crying, sweet thing…?” She taunted.

She wasn’t wrong… Your mascara was running down your face. All from the pure utter, overstimulating bliss the woman as bringing you.

“You asked for this when you decided to break the rules…” she wickedly purred, attaching her hot mouth to your clit and sucking harshly.

A desperate cry of painful pleasure left your throat.

“Is this too much for you…?” She taunted, attaching her mouth back quickly on your clit.

You nodded vigorously, pulling tightly against your ties, your body spasming at her touch. But she firmly held your thighs for her easy access.

“That’s odd… look at how your dripping on my tongue…” She chuckled wickedly.

You let out a particularly desperate whine, which was easily muffled by your make shift gag.

“But that’s ok, sweet thing…” She lustfully purred, “If you keep crying like that your mistress will let you cum in her mouth however many times you’d like…”

New tears of pleasure streamed down your face as she brought you to yet another climax, leaving your throat sore and your legs trembling.

“My pretty crybaby…” she cooed while cleaning you up only to go down on your dripping cunt once more.

~~~

Aftercare was a staple for Alma. So when she was done with you, she gently scooped your fragile form up and carried you to her bathtub. She ran the water and then promptly joined you, making sure to live on you and clean you up proper. Then, the two of you snuggled in the water for a while. You nuzzled into her form lovingly.

“Missed you so much…” you murmered into the crook of her neck.

“I missed you too…” Alma whispered, kissing your nose affectionately, “You don’t ever have to leave again, my Dear…”

“I’m yours. Always and Forever…” you murmured, drifting off into a light slumber in Alma’s arms.

~~~

[rtfics]

"Baby, Mine" continues.

A year and four months ago I said I was stepping away from writing my AO3 fic, Baby, Mine.

I'm back to say I'm going to finish it.

Ever since Michael Keaton came back in the spotlight due to Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, which I love, I've been thinking about V.A. Vandevere and playing with the idea of completing Baby, Mine. But I assumed there was no one left who wanted to read it. A story really can't fully live unless it's read.

Well, thanks to several readers who left comments, I now know there are people who want me to continue. This surprised the hell out of me and made me tear up.

So on the days I'm not working on my professional fiction, when I need some fun and an escape, I'm going to write Baby, Mine. I've always known how it was going to end, so the outline is already done. There will be about 3, maybe 4 more chapters (guessing). When I'm ready to post the next chapter, I'll remove the author's notes chapters and replace them with the real chapters. So the new chapter will be Chapter 13.

This may take a while, since I'm busy.  I have to ask for your continued patience!

I want to especially thank @liquidloz for compliments I don't feel I deserve but I thankfully accept. I'm finishing this fic particularly due to you, just so you know. Anyone who gets sick of my posting about this fic has to blame her. She also writes on AO3!

I particularly want to thank @victorianwestpiano, for being a die-hard Dumbo 2019 fan when everyone else disappeared. And she writes great fanfic! Check out her stories on AO3! (I think you'll like what I do with Holt ;-)

And I want to thank every single reader who took the time to read my fic, even though it's unfinished.  I hope the story will end in a way that you feel was worth the wait.

Oh, I'm so happy to see these guys again. :-)

Baby, Mine on AO3.

[yelenablshop]

Someone just messaged me asking what I was doing

How do I explain this

[cherryxsapphic]

It's 3 a.m. again, so let the Shenanigans begin!! 💖

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆ 𓆩♡𓆪 ⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

but imagine it's storming outside and you're trying to find safe place to stay after getting chased relentlessly by a hollow. Your whole entire outfit is absolutely soaked and damaged from running through the forest and the raging storm outside. Then as you finally calm down and begin walking you start to notice a specific cave and you're like hey nothing could go wrong if you went through the cave right so why not. (we love curious George) as you go through the cave there's a super bright light because you know it's the Sun! but anyways as you stroll along you find a magnificent Victorian house you then run up to it thinking that you finally found some shelter and who knows maybe someone that might live there could help you out.

Before you could even knock the door quickly opens, you're greeted by gorgeous woman with eyes that you could compare to a hawk (I'm so funny) you can't even get a single word out not only because she's beautiful but because she doesn't let you.

"Ah I've been expecting you."

She then pulls out her hand in what you thought was a handshake so you naively held out your hand and with a smile on your lips.

Unnoticed to you the woman simply smirked as she grabbed your hand you were yanked inside never to be seen again. 🥰

"You're mine now."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆ 𓆩♡𓆪 ⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

Sadly it is not in fact 3 am anymore but I hope you enjoyed this!!💫💕💫

[m4movies]

Eva Green

[jacobblack3751009]

Moonlit Promises

The night was alive with a gentle breeze as [Y/N], having adjusted to his existence as a vampire, planned a special date for his beloved witch, Angelique Bouchard. They stood at the edge of Widow's Hill, the moon casting a soft glow upon the crashing waves below.

As [Y/N] looked into Angelique's mesmerizing eyes, a mischievous smile played upon his lips. He reached out to take her hand, his touch sending sparks of electricity through their connection. It was a symbol of the love and affection they shared, a reminder that their lives were intertwined in a dance of fate.

"Shall we, my enchanting witch?" [Y/N] asked, a playful glint in his eyes. "A night of secrets, confessions, and promises awaits us."

Angelique's lips curved into a knowing smile as she accepted his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. "Lead the way, my charming vampire. I am eager to share our pasts and create a future together."

They strolled along the cliff's edge, their footsteps echoing against the crashing waves. The moonlight painted a path before them, guiding them towards an intimate spot where they could lay bare their souls.

Seated on a weathered bench, [Y/N] and Angelique gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean. The wind whispered through their hair, carrying their words into the night. With every passing moment, their connection grew stronger, building a foundation of trust and understanding.

They spoke of their pasts, the broken pieces that had brought them together. [Y/N] shared the struggles he had faced as a mortal, the loneliness and despair that had consumed him. Angelique revealed the pain of rejection, the scars left by a world that had feared her unique abilities. They bared their souls, finding solace in the knowledge that they were not alone in their strife.

In the vulnerability of their confessions, a newfound appreciation blossomed. They had found each other amidst the chaos, two broken souls coming together to form a bond that defied expectations. It was a love story born out of the ashes of their pasts, a love that mended their wounded hearts.

As the night grew deeper, the moon cast a radiant glow upon their faces. [Y/N] reached out, his hand caressing Angelique's cheek. With a tender expression, he whispered, "In you, I found the missing piece of my existence, the light that guides me through the shadows. Our lives may have been screwed before, but together, we create a tapestry of love and resilience."

Angelique's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she leaned into his touch, her voice filled with sincerity. "With you, my dear vampire, I have discovered a love that mends the broken, a love that weaves hope into our shared destiny. Our pasts may have scarred us, but they have led us to this moment, where we can heal and grow together."

Under the moonlit sky, their lips met in a passionate kiss, sealing their promises and igniting a fire within their souls. In that embrace, time stood still, and the world around them faded away, leaving only their love and the eternal bond they had forged.

As they broke apart, their breaths mingling, they smiled at each other, knowing that their journey was just beginning. Hand in hand, they rose from the bench, their hearts intertwined as they continued their walk along Widow's Hill, under the watchful gaze of the moon.

With every step, their love deepened, a beacon of light illuminating the darkness. Together, as vampire and witch, they would face the challenges of their immortal lives, united in

a love that defied the odds.

And as they walked, the moon bathed them in its soft glow, a witness to their unwavering love, a testament to the endless possibilities that awaited them in the embrace of the night.

[scrollf0x]

!!Fanfic Alert!!

Cracks im Mädchen

Cracks (2009) & Madchen in uniform (1958) crossover fanfic

Summary:

Within the confines of a strict, all-girls English boarding school in circa 1910s, a clique students participate on the swim team not only to pass the time, but to be close to their swimming instructor, the enigmatic, yet charismatic, Miss G. While Miss G originally encourages their idolization and crack (crush) on her, the teachers attention is quickly focused on the arrival of an orphaned German aristocrat pupil, Fiamma Meinhardis. As the new girl rebuffs her classmates, further rejects Miss G's interest and grows closer to her reserved German Literature instructor Miss Elisabeth, her teammates begin to grow jealous of Miss G's fascination with Fiamma, and resent the latter's distain of their instructor and increasing fondness over Miss Elisabeth, accumulated in the inexplicable disappearance of the two professors, and Fiamma.

[venussaidso]

I just remembered that they share the same nakshatra lords on their top 3 placements (including a nakshatra and a double whammy) and now I can't stop thinking about them & their onscreen potential.

Eva Green has Punarvasu Sun while Krysten Ritter has Purva Bhadrapada Ascendant. Then Eva Green has Ashwini Moon and Magha Ascendant, while Krysten Ritter has Magha Moon and Mula Sun.

The idea of them in the same scene is quite mystifying because they're also so different. Their lunar mansions sets them far apart, proving the distance between Ashwini and Magha (and Punarvasu and Purva Bhadrapada). Eva Green is just the weirdest between the two to me, like the hardest to pin down.

Give them a Magha-themed plot and also have them as best friends with sapphic undertones to make a whole fandom pump out fanfics I'd be so down for that.

[evagreen-stories]

Mother of the Realm | (Daemon x f!noble!reader) (part 1/?)

Summary: Left behind after the blacks take King's Landing, Aemond’s Lady-Wife finds herself striking a certain arrangement with the rogue prince to guarantee her and her children's safety, though strange occurrences should change the conditions of this arrangement drastically.

Warnings: dark!themes, dubcon/coercion, warcrimes, dark!daemon, age gap, time typical gender roles, lactation kink, breeding kink, p in v, throat fuck, canon typical behaviour, slight degradation, mentions of noncon/forced pr0stitution, mentions of violence, mention of arranged marriage

Non-Canon Storyline: : two years into the civil war, reader (young Lady of house Celtigar) married to Aemond, the war drags on for longer than in canon

Disclaimer: This Fic is written on the basis that most of what mushroom says is true! The story came to me in a fever dream and I felt like typing it out lol. This storyline is mixed of book  / hearsay / imagination; I tried to write it all out in a way that makes sense and is easy to follow.

Divider @targaryen-dynasty

my masterlist series moodboard series masterlist

It's the dance of the dragons, the war has been going on for two years and has escalated to new dimensions of destruction and violence, with the blacks now having invaded and taken over Kings Landing and the Red Keep where you, the lady wife of Aemond Targaryen, live as well.

Married a year before the dance of dragons began, you have given him two sons already; a young boy of 26 months old, Rhaegar, and a babe of 11 months, Baelor, and are with your third; four months along, the maester’s presume.

Most green supporters were now locked in cells while you and your children were imprisoned in your chambers; a privilege you received as you are the only daughter of Lord Bartimos Celtigar, a loyal supporter of the blacks.

Who knows, had your father not been swayed by the sweet words and reassurances of queen Alicent, hadn’t fallen trap into accepting the marriage proposal to Aemond in an effort of hers to sway your house’s loyalty in favour of her side, perhaps then you would now be standing on the other side of this door as a free woman. 

Instead, your own husband had kept you surveilled at all times ever since the war began, in fear you would run away and join the blacks, and had forbidden you from leaving the Red Keep ever since his return from Storm’s End where he had gone to secure a betrothal for his younger brother Daeron to one of the Baratheon girls; an endavour that would end with the death of Lucerys Velaryon and jump-start the most brutal civil war seen to date.

Followed by at least one kings guard as soon as you stepped out of your chambers, the presence of your husband and the freedom to roam the gardens and halls had made it easy to forget your new house rules on most days.

With the confinement you had found yourself in ever since the war began you had turned all your attention and efforts into becoming the best and most loving mother you could be. A desire perhaps fueled by the clear preference of your own mother towards your brothers.

You wanted to be better than that. You studied books and listened to old wives' tales ever since you had flowered, knowing it wouldn’t be long until you would be wed off to fulfil your duty as a proper lady-wife.

And fulfil your duty you would. Unlike most other nobles you had taken to not employing a wet nurse or nursemaids at all.

Being made prisoner in your own home freed up all your time to be able to do so. Your sons would sleep in your chambers and be on your lap all day long. Both had only ever drank your milk, knowing no other chest but their mother’s.

And yet, what had once been a cage with thin, golden bars and a nice view, had now turned into one of thick stone walls, the confinement of your chambers only being eased by the presence of your two young children.

The days were long alone, yet more peaceful for you than you had expected them to be. Even if your father had not come to see you once, you did speak to your trusted servants, listening to the tales they would tell you about just what was going on outside the very wooden door you would stare at daily. 

And by the sevens, was it horrifying.

Rhaenyra, now dubbed ‘the cruel’ and ‘Maegor with teats’, had ordered the forceful taking of the two queen's Alicent and Helaena to a pleasure house, their services to be sold to whoever could afford it; at least those are the rumours that have been spread around the castle grounds.

Any woman would think this fate horrifying but even more so you: as wife of the prince regent at the court of the usurper you certainly were an easy target for the mad queen’s wrath. Worry of being made to share the same fate consumed you more with each day; a fear that would eventually make you request an audience with Rhaenyra.

Instead of her, you now find yourself with her husband the rogue prince – or now, the king consort – Daemon standing in front of you.

“I requested to speak to Rhaenyra.”

“Yes. And now you’ve got me. Speak before I change my mind.”

You stay silent for a few moments, pondering how to ask the question. "Is it true what they claim? About Alicent and Helaena, the pleasure house?"

"Oh it is true," Daemon said, walking slowly towards you as he spoke, his eyes roaming you from your head to your feet. He stopped a few feet before you and looked into your eyes, the smell of sweat and ash surrounding the dragon rider. 

"Alicent is not a hostage nor a political ploy - she is a traitor, guilty of high treason, and will be treated as such. The usurper queen may say otherwise but we all know the truth."

“What about Helaena?” You say, almost pleading, Alicent and you had clashed often over the past two years, your differences in mothering and you not being devout to the faith being a frequent cause of argument; but Helaena – oh, sweet Helaena – is a different story.

Another victim of powerful scheming. You had to watch her suffer tremendously from the effects of blood & cheese, something that too shook you to the core. The son of your dear friend, slain so horrendously right in front of his mother and siblings. 

"She had no choice in any of it, she is innocent."

"Helaena," Daemon said, scoffing at the mention of her name. Of all the greens, Helaena was the only one that he didn't really hate. "She may be innocent, but she knows what kind of people her mother and brother are and she remains loyal to them. What does that say of her?"

"Helaena never had a choice, neither did I. We are not like your wife Daemon; we did not have the blessing of having a king as our father that would let us do however we pleased. We were all forced into this." You protest, frustration now evident in your voice. "You have already killed her son. Beheaded him infront of her own eyes. Is that not enough?"

“We did not kill him; we simply avenged our own.” Daemon's scowl deepened as you spoke, though he had to admit you were right, at least somewhat. "Fine. It seems you are the only one who wants to plead for her safety. I will speak to the rightful queen, perhaps she won't be entirely opposed to your request of freeing Helaena.."

Daemon paused for a moment, gaze lowering to your bump, before speaking again. "Tell me. Who is the father of the child you are carrying?"

You look down your small bump at his words, laying a hand on it reflexively. "My husband, Aemond, of course. Why?"

Daemon took note of your movements as your hand went to your belly, a flicker of hatred in his eyes when you said Aemond's name. "Just making an observation. How old are you now? 20? And already three kids at your heels…”

"I will turn 19 soon. Yes, I’m carrying my third child. What of it?" you tilt your head slightly, taken aback by his change of topic and his increasingly intrusive questions.

"Three children, at nineteen." Daemon seemed almost impressed. He looked at your belly again.

"I don't know of what concern my husband and I's private matters are." Your voice betrays you, sounding way more hostile as you intended it to.

Daemon looked at you in a way that made you uncomfortable. He was eyeing your body up and down, and his silence made you feel his gaze prickling your skin. "Does your husband like seeing you pregnant?"

You stare at him silently, mouth agape at the shock of such an intimate question. "Yes..." You admit reluctantly.

A smirk broke through Daemon's frown, as a low chuckle came from his lips, eyes still lingering on your stomach. "He keeps you as his broodmare. You're clearly a fine one as well; babes not even out of the cradle before you’re with child again. I don't blame him."

"He is my husband. It's his right to have children with his wife." You say defensively; repeating the words you have been taught all your life.

"It is indeed." Daemon said, taking a step closer to you, invading your personal space. He took a deep breath through his nose, taking in your scent. This close, he could see his own reflection in your eyes. "His right, and your duty. You must be a good wife to please him so thoroughly."

You stare at him silently again, before shrugging timidly. "He doesn't complain." You don't want to risk saying too much, so you continue with the question you had been planning to ask all this while.

"Rhaenyra... What is she planning to do with me? With my children? I heard she has rewards out for Maelor…"

"She has no intention of killing you or your children. Though you may still be stripped of your title as princess." Daemon paused a moment before continuing. "As for Maelor... There is a bounty on his head, yes. He is the only remaining son of the usurper. Since he is so young she will let him live; but only under her influence." 

He raises his hand to tug a strand of hair behind your ear. "She contemplated selling you to the pleasure house as well, you know? But since you're gravid and played no instrumental part in their schemes, I could persuade her not to do so."

You look at him wide-eyed, feeling a pit form in your stomach, as if your worst fears had been confirmed. "What- a-are you jesting?"

Daemon took note of your reaction. He was still close, he could see the outline of a dimple in your cheek and smell the sweet scent of your milk surrounding you; a smell still clinging to your body as you had just finished feeding your youngest before he entered the room. 

"Indeed. Rhaenyra is not like other women. Much less merciful and the men that surround her even less so." He said, still smirking. His hand had found its way to your waist now, his fingers running along your side. "But a good word from me and I could persuade her not to do so. You should thank me."

You stare at him, your hand moving to hold onto his arm, ready to push him away. You study his face, recognising an unsettling darkness in them. "You wouldn’t do this just because. What is it you want from me?"

"Hmm..." Daemon took another deep breath, your scent was really strong with this one. Different notes were in your scent as well. He wondered if those were remnant of your perfume you had applied in the morning or perhaps an oil youve applied to your hair.

He let out a sigh as he tried to keep it from affecting him. He lowered his head towards yours and spoke slowly, every word a whisper. "No, you're right. I wouldn't do it just because. But for you, I could make some exceptions. You've always had my attention, you know that? The pretty little thing that you are, wed to my maimed nephew."

"What are you saying?" You try to sound brave but the quiver in your voice betrays you.

Daemon chuckled as he noticed your nervousness. He could tell from your shaking body that you were afraid. He put a hand under your chin, moving your head to look into his eyes. He spoke slowly and quietly.

"Let me have you and I shall guarantee your and your children's safety."

You stare at him bewildered, stunned silent for several long moments. "Are you mad? I will not betray my husband!"

Daemon chuckled, amused by your naivety and innocence. "Oh my sweet lady... Do you have any idea what you're in now? You're in war, taken hostage by your enemy. Your husband will be happy so long you don't die. I cannot sire a babe on you anyway, so there is nothing to worry about." Daemon smirked, looking at your stomach, and your body, that sweet aroma that surrounded you, drawing him closer and closer.

"Give yourself to me and I shall guarantee yours and your children’s wellbeing.” He doubles down.

You stare at him, trembling slightly in fear and anger, your voice growing quieter the more you struggle to contain your emotions. "You can't be serious. If... If my husband won't have my head for this, then your wife will."

He raised an eyebrow as you spoke, a smirk gracing his face. He was still holding onto you, close enough to kiss you if he wanted to. His gaze was fixed on your lips as well, and your scent was just so... Irresistible to him. 

"Rhaenyra won't care. In our marriage we are free to seek pleasure wherever we like as long as our loyalties don’t falter. The things I can do to you, you will enjoy them alright..." His voice became low and quiet again as he spoke the last words, the hand that previously rested on your waist now slithering around your back and ascending lower and lower with each passing moment.

You stare at him in disbelief, fear and anger boiling inside you. Just when you want to protest yet again, the loud sounds of something collapsing startle you, your head snapping to look around Daemon's wide frame with urgency.

Your eyes settle onto Rhaegar. The wooden tower he was building had collapsed, an inconvenience the toddler quickly moves on from by starting to build it anew. Baelor sits not far from him, abandoning his own toy to crawl over and investigate his brothers doings.

The anger you had been feeling subsides immediately, replaced by worry and an urge to cry as you worry for whatever their fate will be as this war continues.

You don't want this.

You do not want to let him touch you, but it might be the only way to protect your children from harm, especially considering how cruel rhaenyra has proven herself to be. Your stare is focused on your oldest still, watching as his tiny hands wrap around each block and meticulously place one onto the other.

So innocent, so fragile.

"What about them?" Your voice as soft as a whisper.

Daemon didn't take his eyes away from yours. His gaze burning into you as he studies every expression you make. Your scent, your warmth, almost driving him crazy. "They will be taken care of. I told you I wouldn't let them come to harm." He said as he ran a hand through your hair, the curls of your hair wrapping around his fingers. "Don't worry, sweet girl, all will be well. If you agree to my terms, that is."

He can watch your jaw clenching and eyes gloss over before hearing the ever so soft word he has been waiting for leaving your lips. "Fine."

Servants had been sent by Daemon to take your children to bathe them and play with them. You did not miss the sympathetic look they gave you. Perhaps being able to tell what will happen to you purely based on his instructions to not return until he tells them to. 

You’re standing at a window looking out at the city taking note of the sun lowering on the horizon, dressed in nothing but a simple silk robe, when the door opens and Daemon walks in without knocking.

He steps inside, wearing the same clothes from before; sword and dagger still at his side. He comes closer and takes in your appearance, pleased at the sight. He approaches you with a calm step until your bodies are mere inches apart, bringing his hand up to caress your arm.

"You’re trembling," Daemon spoke, his voice smooth and dark. His eyes were examining you again, taking in your appearance. You had changed from the last time he saw you, you looked more womanly now.

A mother to two already, with a third growing inside, the outline of your small bump visible through the loose fabric. His movements were precise and confident. You could tell he was trying hard to contain himself.

For now.

Your gaze follows the movements of his hand as it runs up and down your arm. You can feel his large calloused hand and cold skin through the thin fabric of your robe. It’s a stark contrast to your soft and warm skin, unmarked and unblemished from living sheltered all your life.

In a small voice, barely more than a whisper, you ask, “Can we just get this over with?”

Daemon nods, taking note of your trembling once more before he turns and walks over to a nearby table, taking off his sword and dagger and placing them onto it. His head tilted as he looked at you from where he is standing.

"You were quick to give into me so easily. Were you that desperate? Does your husband not satisfy you?" He said with a smirk, beginning to undo his tunic.

You tighten your jaw, upset at his words that, to you, sound accusatory of promiscuity - a sin for a highborn lady. A married one especially.

“Desperate to keep my children safe, yes. My husband always kept me well satisfied.”

"Hmm..." Daemon huffed. His body language shifted a little. He seemed more agitated and tense, not liking that you brought up Aemond's name, much less so that you praised him. He walked back towards you now, closing the distance slowly and taking a good look at you.

His eyes kept darting to your stomach as you spoke of your husband. With every movement you make you entice him even more. “I don't know what he does to you to satisfy you, but I assure you I can do it better."

You roll your eyes at his words; he had always been cocky.

"He and I are very compatible in that regard. Now, can you just do what you need to do? I'd prefer to get this over with soon." It was the truth. Aemond’s and your intimate life was very well. Three children in three years of marriage served as proof of that.

Daemon's blood was running hot at this point.

"Compatibilities. I see..." Daemon said, his words filled with mockery. "Well, there's nothing I'd prefer more right now than to be inside of you, so I guess we're compatible as well." He approaches you quickly, now dressed in nothing but his breeches, eagerly tugging at the belt holding your robe closed, watching as it falls open and reveals your bare body underneath.

He took a sharp breath as he took in your figure, almost letting out a moan of desire at the sight of your body, his gaze roaming your body eagerly.

“Gods, you’re stunning.” His gaze settles on your breasts, swollen from all the milk inside them. “I heard you don’t employ a wet nurse. Why is that?”

You stare ahead blankly, trying not to make any sound or expression when you can feel his hand rest on the curve of your waist. “I don’t believe its good for the mother-child bond. That mothers should nurse their own children, or they will bond with the wet nurse instead.”

Daemon smirks at your response, thumb caressing over your delicate skin as he now looks at your face. “Is that so? Does your husband enjoy watching you breastfeed?” He asks with a low chuckle before pulling you in, his hardened length in his pants now pressing against your belly as He holds you close with both arms wrapped around your waist. “Or does he enjoy tasting your milk himself? Do not lie to me, woman. You won’t like the consequences if you do.”

Your hands rest on his chest, you’re fighting the urge to push him away with every fiber of your being, your head hanging low as you do not dare to look at him directly. You take note of his skin; scars and healed burns covering his muscular form. The body of a battle-hardened warrior.

Reluctantly you admit, “Both…”.

“Oh… you’re even more of a little whore than I thought, aren’t you?” he whispers into your ear. “What an eager to serve little thing you are. You’ll make a good little toy for me after all.” One arm wrapped still around your waist the other moves to your front, his large hand stroking over that small bump of yours.

“Almost makes me sad you’re with child already. I’d have loved to pound my own into you.”

Your head snaps up at him now, huffing in offense you exclaim, “Daemon!”

He simply smirks, amused by your objection. Leaning in close he whispers into your ear, his hot breath burning on your skin. “You may be carrying my nephew’s child now but there is always a next time. A few more months and I could still make you mine.”

He turns around with you in his arms, leading you backwards towards the bed until you feel the mattress on the back of your legs. A small push of his makes you sit down on it. Knowing your duty, you take it upon yourself to scoot fully onto the mattress.

He watches with a smile on his lips as you do so, happy with your compliance before reaching down and spreading your legs open for him to look after he noticed you keeping them shut.

He takes a good look at the treasure between them, groaning out when his manhood twitches at the sight of it. He stands up straight again, taking off the breeches that held him contained until now as his intense stare moves up your body once more.

You feel so vulnerable and exposed for him, completely bare and spread wide open for him to examine as the intensity of his gaze only intensifies. He does not look like a man now. With his pupils blown wide he resembles more a predator ready to pounce its prey than anything else.

His gaze fixed on your cunt, as if in a daze, he reaches out tentatively, his rough fingertips grazing along the sensitive flesh for painfully long moments.

Tracing along the form of your fleshy lips again and again, your breathing is but nervous gasping as one shiver after the other runs over your skin.

Suddenly the sensation fades as he climbs between your legs, one hand on your thigh to keep you spread open for him as he starts pushing himself into you without any more preparation, blissfully surprised to find your cunt wet and welcoming for him.

He can’t hold back a low groan as he pushes himself all the way into you, leaning forward and lying fully on top of you. His face is mere inches from yours as he slowly starts to move his hips, deeply penetrating you at a slow pace while he studies your every expression.

Grunting, your hands move to hold onto his sides as his knees dip into the mattress on either side of you. You clench your jaw tightly, trying to stop any sounds from escaping your lips while you struggle to accommodate him.

Aemond was more than enough to satisfy you, but Daemon was a whole lot more man than him – in all regards.

He knows this, too. Its easy for him to tell by the way your nails dig into his skin as you struggle to get used to him.

“How come you’re so eager, sweet thing? Do you enjoy a man taking charge of you?” A wicked grin on his face his movements become more powerful, your body rocking back and forth with the force of it.

You want to say no, to deny every second of it and not give him the satisfaction of watching you enjoy his touch, but when he starts to hit an all too familiar spot inside of you, you crumble immediately. Not being able to hold back your moans anymore you can barely manage to answer him with a weak “…yes”.

“No wonder my nephew wouldn’t stop breeding you. You’re the perfect little plaything.” He pushes his body into yours, pushing you into the mattress while he whispers into your ear. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. I will violate you properly and make sure you enjoy every second of it.”

With that, his thrusts quickly grow rougher, starting to pound you with such force the entire bed rocks with it, all while watching every expression on your face.

His breathing heavy and rasp he soon shifts his attention down to your breasts, that are bobbing up and down with each forceful clashing of his hips into your. He tried to control himself, he really did, but he just cant anymore.

A hand cupping your breast he leans in, taking the sensitive nub on it between his lips. Just a few soft movements of his tongue over it and he can already taste it. Feeling the warm and sweet liquid dripple onto his tongue makes him humm contently as he starts indulging himself in the sweetness of you. His hips grind into you deeply but at much more humane pace than before.

Your eyes shut in pleasure, your own hands moving by themselves as they embrace him, moving into his hair and caressing his back. This is what Aemond liked, your dear husband.

Oh, if you would ever see him again…

Daemon is surprised, you embracing him was the last thing he expected, even less so you pulling him in more, but he loved every second of it.

He would swear he is in heaven. The warm embrace of his cock while the sweetness of your milk covers his tongue driving him crazy. It could have been hours of him doing this or mere seconds, all he knows is he finds himself spilling his seed into you way sooner than he wanted to, his relentless thrusting an expression of his frustration as his loud moans fill the room, shameless and utterly unafraid of how much the guards outside your door will hear of this.

His slow and deep grinding into your cunt continues as he stays suckling on your breasts, his spend soon clinging to both of your hips and pulling long white strings whenever he pulls away only to push back in with even more force. His antics only cease when he is sure he has drank all of what you can give, both your breasts feeling comfortably light while a throbbing sensation in your cunt would stay with you until the next day, you're sure.

He collapses onto you, still deeply buried inside, squishing your breasts under his weight while his heavy breaths right in your ear send shivers down your spine. Your arms travel by themselves again, wrapping around him and holding him close. Just how Aemond has always demanded you hold him.

“You’re a very good fuck… really good.” Daemon growls right into your ear.

A few moments later, he rolls off of you onto his back, laying next to you and catching his breath while studying your side profile.

This quiet moment gives you the first chance to gain back your senses, a wave of guilt washing over you as the sensation of another mans spend spilling out of you and running down your skin onto the mattress makes you realise the severity of what had just happened. Eyes fluttering, trying to ignore the burning sensation in them, you say, “I think… I think you should leave now.”

Had you have looked at him, you would have noticed his smiling face turn to stone in an instant.

This was the worst thing you could have said.

To command the dragon to leave your bed. He could not leave that be.

“Stay quiet. You have no say in this.” His voice is stern now and he rolls onto his side, leaning over your body and staring daggers into your skull, his hand grabbing your chin harshly and making you look at him. “If I want to abuse your pretty little cunt all night I will do so. And you will take it.”

“Don’t... don’t you have somewhere to be?” Your voice is shaky, your fear heightened by the anger you can see burn in his eyes. A desperate attempt of yours to sound considerate for his valuable time is only pouring more oil into the fire.

“Don’t try to tell me what to do. I have all the time in the world to play with you.” His fingers twitch slightly, as if holding back the urge to choke you. “Stop acting like a baby. You know the way of our world. You know when a woman is better off just taking a cock and shutting up.”

“Damn it, I need a break.” He sighs, it sounds almost like a growl as he tries to control his anger. He lets go of you, shoving you away slightly, as he gets up of the bed and takes a few deep breaths. “You got me all riled up, whore.”

You sit up in the bed, hugging your legs as you look at him. His large frame, the burn scars all over his back, his temper flaring and the sheer power he holds over your fate make you fear for the consequences.

You didn’t mean to upset his highness.

“Don’t call me a whore…” It slips out quietly under your breath, yet he hears it anyway. You weren’t used to such language. Despite his acts, Aemond would never say a foul word to you. 

Oh, Aemond…

“Shut up, whore!” Daemons raised voice take you out of your thoughts. He barks, closing in on you rapidly and pulling your head back with a tight grip on your hair. “Would I send you to the pleasure house being called a whore would be the least of your problems! Show me some gratitude!”

Daemon‘s anger takes over, mixed with his still pressing need in his cock, he drags you off the bed and pushes you to your knees in front of it, the bedframe pressing into your back uncomfortably.

“Perhaps I was too nice to you.” He growls, hand still in your hair as he makes you look up at him, ignoring all your pleas and apologies.

“Let me show you your new place in life. Open wide.” He commands, his other hand having a firm grasp on his cock as he traces the form of your lips with it.

For the first time ever since his first visiy earlier today, genuine fear overcomes you. Not daring to oppose him, you open your mouth as commanded, gagging immediately as he shoves himself into your mouth.

Aemond enjoyed the mouth pleasures as well yet had been far gentler than he was. Your hands move to Daemons thighs on their own, trying to push him back just a little, but when his second hand too moves to your head and holds it in place, all hope for ease is lost.

Tears start burning in your eyes in an instant once the thick head of his cock hits the back of your mouth, even more so when you can feel it push in deeper, forcefully flattening your tongue underneath as he made his way into your throat.

The room fills with his sounds of pleasure, guttural moans and growls, your desperate gagging and struggle drowned out by the volume of his.

The bed behind you and his hands in your hair make any escape impossible and you thank the gods when after what feels like an eternity he finally pulls out of your throat, a string of saliva connecting him to you as you gasp desperately for air.

“Fuck, that’s it,” his voice is deep and raw with lust, “That’s a good girl, finally.”

The praise does little to make any of it easier as he thrust himself back into your mouth and down your throat before you even had a chance to wipe your now freely flowing tears.

Daemon soon loses himself in his depravities, the fleshy pouch on his stones slapping harshly against your chin with each thrust. Your face a mess of tears and spit you’re unable to do much more than dig your nails into his thighs and take all he wants to give.

By the time he shoves himself all the way down your throat, his hips flush with your face as he tightly holds your head in place and spills what else he had left in him into you, you’ve near lost all grasp on reality.

Your back and knees aching near as much as your jaw, you can finally breathe in relief once he separates himself from you once and for all, leaving you collapsing forward with heavy breaths as he stumbles backwards a few steps, groaning in satisfaction as he studies your pitiful state.

“This is where you belong from now on,” he says after a while, “On your knees for me, whenever I want. Do you understand this now, whore?”

On your hands and knees, still breathing heavily and coughing occasionally, you take a few moments to find your voice again. Avoiding his gaze, you mumble, “…yes.”

“That is no way to talk to your king,” he objects, “Speak properly, whore. You’re a princess, you know how to.”

Defeated, you make no more attempts to be willful. Looking up at him, you answer, “I understand now, my king.”

A wicked smile on his face he approaches you, petting your head a few times. “That’s a good princess. Now clean yourself up. You would not want your spawn to see you like this.”

Leisurely walking back to where his clothes lay discarded, he starts dressing himself as if this all had been nothing out of the ordinary.

Adding “I will be back for more once I feel like it.”, he grabs his swords and disappears out of the door just as swiftly as when he had arrived, shutting it with a loud thud.

You were still on the floor, your back now resting against the bed as you spread out your aching legs in front of you, hoping for relief in this much more comfortable position.

A thousand thoughts run through your head yet not a single one stays long enough to grasp.

With no idea just how much time has passed it is the sound of commotion in the halls outside tour door that draws you out of your blank stare. It was late in the day now and the sky barely lit. It was suppertime for most, and undoubtedly, the maids would soon return with your sons and serve your own meals.

You had hardly managed to throw your nightrobe back on, wipe away the remnants of him with the nearest piece of cloth and open the windows, hoping to ease the smell of sex in the air, before the knocks echo through the room.

Just as predicted, here were your sons, in the same carefree mood they always were. Happy to see their mother and now ready for a meal. Supper was served not long after.

While you had received only stew and bread before, the table was now set with the first mouth-watering meal ever since you’ve been made prisoner. While you sit there, little Baelor on your lap and Rhaegar on a high chair next to you, you watch them intently.

The way each of them indulges in their meals, digging into the food with their bare hands and making a mess that no doubt would require a second bath before bed, your heart aches and you struggle to hold back the tears.

They are so innocent, completely oblivious to the death and suffering surrounding them. Their helplessness stands out to you. Unable to even feed themselves without help, they very much depend on you.

As you go on about the evening, taking the time and enjoying the presence of your two loved ones, by the time you lull the little ones to sleep, you’ve made your decision.

You will do all it takes to keep them safe. All it takes to keep them from harm.

And if that means submitting to Daemon’s every vice without complaint, then so be it.

Authors note: This story is currently halted as I focus on my Aemond and OC works for a while but will eventually continue. Follow me for updates or comment to be put on the taglist for this fic in the future!

View this series masterlist and moodboard for extra content.

[itsawritblr]

I can't believe it's been 5 years! Half a decade! Happy 5th anniversary, Dumbo! (This is a very good tribute, especially having done it on your cellphone!)

I too still love this movie, flaws and all. If only Tim Burton had made this a mini series! He'd have had the time and space to leave in all the good parts cut from the script (which are in the novelization).

This was the first time I ever saw Colin Farrell and Eva Green, and it was a great introduction. Michael Keaton was marvelous chewing up the scenery; he'd never done a character like this before, and he was great.

The production design and costumes deserved Oscar nominations. I'm very pissed that it didn't get any. Dreamland is an amazing creation of imagination. I wish it were real!

I miss my Ship (Villy: V.A. Vandevere x Milly Farrier age 18). I still want to finish my fanfic, but I have other things I need to write! Someday, perhaps . . .

Baby, Mine on AO3.

So, 5 years since this movie came out. And I still love it, even if I can't express it with words. ;)

I wish I could've done a better 5 year aniversary tribute but I dont have my laptop with me right now so just doing it with my cellphone.

Happy 5th year aniversary Dumbo 2019 and happy Good Friday to all of you!

[cappulcino]

Taglist

With my first fanfic completed and more requests as well as personal projects in the works, I think it's time to start a taglist.

To be added, please comment with the emoji(s) corresponding to what you would like to be tagged in. Likes and reblogs are appreciated to spread the word but do not count as a request to be added.

Note: this post might evolve as this blog does and I get more requests or have more projects of my own.

All fanfictions 📚

All Gwendoline Christie characters 🌻

The Sandman

All 🔮

Lucifer 😈

Morpheus ⏳

Wednesday

All 🕸️

Larissa 💄

Wednesday 🦂

Brienne of Tarth ⚔️

Jane Murdstone 🕯️

The Devil Wears Prada 👠

Good Omens 🕊️

Sherlock BBC

All 🔍

Johnlock 💻

Adlock 🎻

All Eva Green characters 🚬

Note 2: you may comment with something more specific (say you're a minor, add ships, etc.)

[athenodora-sulpicia-writer]

Please Guys I’m desperate, send me some Eva Green and her characters requests.

[icycoldninja]

Request fanfic of Dante and his s/o visiting and tending for his parents graves please. Even better if Dante opened up and told his love during visit stories of him and Vergil when they were little boys and their silly shenanigans with Eva and Sparda.

Aww this is so sweet! Hope you enjoy!

They would have loved you (Dante x Reader)

Your hands full of flowers, you and Dante made your way down a paved path covered by overgrown grass, your destination a small alcove near two large oak trees whose boughs crossed over each other, forming a leafy canopy that sheltered two, weathering graves.

"Here they are," Dante sighed, dropping to his knees and placing two bouquets of flowers on each grave. "Mom and Dad." You smiled softly, placing one of the bouquets in your hands on each grave as well.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Sparda," You said, bowing to each grave. Dante chuckled, then reached forwards and yanked a bunch of dandelions that had been growing towards the headstones out of the ground.

"Bet they would have liked you," He remarked, the usual chipper tone in his voice gone at the moment.

"You think so?" You asked, scooting over and kneeling in the grass beside him.

"I know so. Well, I dunno about Dad, but I know Mom would love ya."

"I would have loved her too."

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just basking in the gentle beauty of the afternoon sun; how it filtered through the light green leaves and formed beautiful patterns of shadows and light on the ground, how the birds nested in boughs high above would chirp occasionally, and how there was a constant, yet soft breeze that swept through the entire graveyard, filling it with a serenity you never thought would exist in a place like this.

"Thanks for coming here with me today," Dante finally mumbled, turning and grinning at you. "Normally I'd go with Vergil, but...y'know...he's busy." You smiled softly, taking his hand and squeezing it.

"I'd never pass up a chance to spend time together, you know that."

"I guess I do," Chuckled Dante. "Thanks for that. I..it means a lot." You smiled, then leaned over and kissed his grizzled cheek.

"I love you, Dante, more than the world." Dante smiled back at you; a genuine smile and not a goofy smirk. Ironically, even though he was sitting before his parents graves, he had never felt happier, all because he was with you.

"Mom would definitely be proud of you," Dante remarked, hooking an arm around your waist and drawing you closer to him. "She'd be so glad someone's taking good care of me."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Sparda," You giggled, resting your head on Dante's shoulder. "I'm gonna do all I can to care for your baby boy."