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thesparklingwriter · 23 days

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an unexpected surprise

tags: smut, omegaverse, afab! reader, omega!reader, alpha!zhongli, consensual somno, pet names, reader is in heat, zhongli is in rut, reader pregnancy in afterword, idk if genuine excitement to start a family counts as breeding kink, I STILL think this is somewhat fluffy if not vanilla

word count: 4k (side note what the fuck)

a/n: is celeste doing a good job of hiding the breeding kink or no

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It’s scarily easy to forget, you concede. It’s too easy to just question why your stomach is killing you all of a sudden. Or why that stack of pillows in the living room is calling out your name like a record player on repeat. Or why letting Zhongli go on that work trip last week almost made you want to fall to your knees and beg him not to.

But once you realise it's your heat breaking, it's almost like your body doubles down. With Zhongli returning from his trip within two days, there’s really no point in worrying him with the information. His ever-righteous alpha urges would have him running home in a heartbeat, and you can't be responsible for that.

So you call in sick to work for the next week, and if anyone knows why, they don’t question you, and you resign yourself to a horrible few days by yourself. You wear Zhongli’s clothes in the hopes that enough of his scent is left behind to cool your impulses a little. Still, it’s only so long before silk is the only fabric your clammy skin can bear, and since his pyjamas have been freshly laundered, there’s really no point in even trying.

You reluctantly switch to your own clothes again, a silk night dress you've adored since the day Zhongli bought it for you, and focus on building a nest in the spare room to distract yourself. It works so well, in fact, that you wonder how Zhongli will ever fit between the pillows you've piled up —you subconsciously only made it big enough for yourself. The spare room is good because it's the smallest—in fact, it's so small that calling it a room is almost an exaggeration. It was initially an overzealous store cupboard that you ended up forming an affinity to during your heats, and while it was never a badly kept room, Zhongli couldn’t bear the thought of you using a cupboard when you were most vulnerable, so he had it remodelled. It was worth it to him, even if you were only using it 6 times a year.

This would be the third out of six heats this year, and you congratulate yourself on making it halfway through the year without keeling over and calling it quits. But making it through this one would be tricky. One of the many advantages of married life is not having to go through heat alone, and if Zhongli doesn't return home in time, you might explode.

You try to sleep off the anxiety first, surrounded by cooling silk sheets and everything in the house you can find that smells like your alpha, and it works for the first few hours of the night until a heat cramp rips through you and stirs you awake. Zhongli is many things, but above all, he is a doting alpha, and since he has your permission to help you in any way he sees fit during your heats, he has a very good way of satisfying that part of you before a heat cramp can even manifest itself. But since you haven’t experienced a heat cramp to this extent in what feels like years, you find yourself doubled over and whimpering in pain. The waves of agony even have you forgetting how it was that you managed your heats before you found Zhongli and his cool hands and doting kisses and perfect co—

It doesn’t help to think about him, you realise, as another wave of pain shoots through you. If you can make it downstairs to just grab a hot drink, maybe your symptoms will subside enough for you to just take matters into your own hands like you used to, and then you can decide how you want to proceed. So you wait until the waves of pain are retreating, and you take the opportunity to rush downstairs and rifle through Zhongli's stash of teas. He has labelled them meticulously, and even in your dazed, heat-addled state, you know to not disturb it too much.

You find one that seems to be labelled appropriately and do the worst job of preparing yourself a cup to drink. You know he'd have an aneurysm if he saw you, but times are tough, and he’s not here to help you. He would probably be even more offended by the way you chug the drink, not even pausing to appreciate the notes and intricacies of the flavour as you trudge back upstairs and hope you find the energy for one orgasm to get you through the night.

It's tricky during this phase. Your body only desires carnal pursuits, but your mind is so riddled with anxiety that it feels wrong when you slide your underwear down past your knees, and your other hand gently brushes your nipple. It feels awkward to slip your fingers between your legs, to pretend that it's him who’s fucking you with his fingers, but it works, so you can’t complain. You tell yourself that you’ll clean up before you fall back asleep, but the hours of no sleep are catching up to you, and you fall asleep as you are.

When you wake up again, it's not from a heat cramp or because you need to use the toilet, it's because your heightened senses can hear the front door opening. You take a minute to listen before you panic—Zhongli isn't supposed to be back for another day, but when you realise that it's his steady but hurried footsteps that you hear, the tension leaves your body, and you relax. You don't have the strength to go to him, so you just hope that he finds you here, and he does.

He pushes your door open and glances inside, spotting you curled up in your tiny nest, stressed and anticipating another wave of pain. He feels horrible.

“Oh, my love,” he whispers, walking over to you and taking you in his arms. He carefully nips at your scent glands first and is relieved that from the way you smell, you're in your late preheat, so even though you may have suffered up to this point, it hasn't been the worst your body has to offer. A grateful hum slips from your lips as your eyes close in bliss, and his cool hands against your stomach seem to calm the heat cramp that was building up. “Love, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were coming back anyway,” you reply, clutching at his shirt and capturing his mouth in a desperate kiss. “No need to bother you.”

“There was every need to bother me,” he whispers, gently adjusting the pillows around you on the bed and stripping off layer after layer after layer. He starts with his gloved hands, and the sight has you clenching on nothing, but you're just happy to finally have him to yourself despite your frustration. “You’re my wife, my mate, my omega. It is my job to take care of you. First and foremost.”

He reaches under you to pick you up, but you protest, grabbing his forearm. “I don’t want to move.”

Zhongli is hit with this unyielding wave of desire, so much so that he has to swallow his thoughts of you round with his child down before he speaks.

“Little love,” he shoots back, gently stroking your hair. “I have to take the contraceptive. Should I leave you here?”

“Don’t,” You say. You’d agreed that the next time your heat and his rut coincided, you’d be more thsn happy to explore the idea of having a child, but with the painful realisation that it might not sync up as fast as you want it to, you’re not holding out on luck.

“Beloved,” Zhongli shoots back, devastatingly beautiful, as you pull out the ribbon that holds his hair back. The image in his mind from earlier shoots back into his mind as he quickly contemplates whether he can take your words as they are, given the stage of your heat. If you were further along, you might say anything to get him inside of you again, but right now, he doesn’t think that’s the case. He takes your hand and gently kisses the inside of your wrist, a familiar action that makes you smile lightly.

“Don’t take it.” you repeat. “I don’t want you to take it.” You gently tug the ends of his hair to pull him closer to you, suddenly over-aware of the fact that your scent glands are begging for his attention. “Please.”

“I don’t want you to have regrets later,” Zhongli says quietly, and this time, when he leans in to nip at your neck again, something in his scent tickles the back of your throat, rich and almost spicy, and it makes you cough. His eyes shoot up to yours as realisation dawns on the both of you.

Zhonglis ruts are less common then your heats, with him experiencing only four a year compared to you. And if the last time they coincided was 2 cycles ago…

“Hm,” Zhongli mutters as you pull him into your nest. “That seems to explain things.” He had returned home early from this work trip for a multitude of reasons. At first, it was your reaction to him leaving, and then it was the dreams and constant thoughts of you that proved difficult to handle during important funeral proceedings, and then it was the thoughts of how you would look pregnant the moment he realised you were in heat. He should have realised sooner, instead of ignoring it and letting you suffer thus far.

“Sleepy?” he asks you, as you bury your face into his chest. But the most you do in the way of a response is make a soft humming sound, your omegan senses calmed by the knowledge that your alpha is close. He is upset by the fact that you didn't feel you could reach him when you needed him, but he knows now you need him more than you need an ultimatum. But for the next few hours, it seems like it’s just a waiting game. He is grateful his rut hasn't set in fully, or else the way you nuzzle into his chest might have driven him half crazy.

He gently strokes your hair, unable to tear his eyes from you for a single second—not only because you're the epitome of beauty to him, but also because he has been away, and he wants to take stock of everything. You once joked that he’d probably notice if a strand of hair on your head went missing, and although he’d laughed it off, he wouldn't be surprised if he could.

Your scent slowly begins to shift to something more sweet as you claw at your husband. You're not awake yet, and you won't be for a while, but you’d given Zhongli explicit permission to do whatever he needed to keep you happy during your heats, and he is always eager to please.

Even still, Zhongli takes his cues from you—if you’re grabbing at his face, he’ll kiss you for as long as you want him to, until you escalate things in your heat-addled slumber. And you do, breathy moans punctuating the kiss until you can take no more, and you're grabbing at his hips.

“What do you want?” Zhongli whispers, as he gently rolls you over onto your back. He’s been ignoring his almost painful hardness in favour of doting on you, but he refuses to forgo his manners the moment sex is on the table.

You whine at him, clawing at him some more, and he chuckles, gently pulling your nightgown up to your waist. He clicks his tongue at the sight of you, practically dripping for him, your underwear nowhere to be found, and as much as he wants to dip his tongue into you, he knows it's cruel to play with you in such ways.

“I know, love. I know.” He whispers to you as he gently enters you. You’re so wet that there's almost no resistance, and the breathy moan that slips out of you is almost too much for him to bear. His mind is almost immediately flooding with thoughts of fucking you into the mattress until you’re both so tired that it will take days to recover, but he would never do anything like that unless you were awake. He may have your permission, but he has his own morals.

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers as you pull him closer, your head thrown back in silent bliss. Your response is in the way you clench around him, the slight whine in your quiet moans, and the way you dig your nails into his back. Gods, he loves it when you do that. And although it drives him near crazy, he keeps a steady pace until he feels his knot growing. He nips at your scent glands again, using the opportunity to whisper in your ear—filthy words that have you orgasming almost involuntarily, and the way you clench on him as his knot settles into place triggers his.

He pulls you to the side so the both of you can lie down comfortably, and he is convinced that the satisfied look on your face as his knot keeps all of his cum safe inside you is enough to keep it there for another half hour.

His estimations turn out to be correct, and by the time you begin to stir, his knot is still going strong. He talks to you as you wake, gently reminding you to not move too suddenly. You’re dazed but, more than anything, grateful for him as you pull him tighter.

“Thank you,” is the first thing you say when you wake up, gently planting a kiss on his cheek. The action, albeit mostly innocent, makes his cock twitch inside you, and you've regained enough of your sanity to laugh. “Rut?”

“It seems so.”

“Did you…?” your question trails off as if the process of asking is too tiresome for you. If he had, you would understand, but your anxiety is understandable. If he had taken it, it would mean you would both have to wait again, and Zhongli would be lying if he said that the idea of being a father would be unfavourable to him.

“As per our agreement, I did not.”

The smile you give him is so… perfect that Zhongli has to look away before his knot returns with a vengeance, and he opts for pulling you into a hug, the cold silk of your dress against his chest. He wants to bathe you before the next round of cramps set in, otherwise, you will be clammy and irritable, and he learned very quickly that you cannot bear any discomfort that he cannot fix by fucking you during your heats.

He wants to run a hand over your belly, but decides against it, for fear of jinxing things, instead settling on pressing multiple kisses to your head.

“How do you feel?” he asks you. He’s not entirely sure how far into your preheat you were before he returned home and he’s worried that he hasn’t been able to help all of the symptoms as a result.

“Warm,” you whisper. “How come I’m still wearing this?”

“As you remind me every cycle, doing anything but what an omega in heat explicitly asks of you is essentially torture. You didn't ask me to take it off, so I didn’t.”

You pout at him, and he laughs gently at you. His knot has deflated, so he slowly sits up and pulls you into his arms. “Will you fight me if I offer to bathe you?”

You shake your head no, lifting your arms above your head as he carefully drags your nightdress off. He decides to save himself the hassle of trying to get it completely clean and just get you a new one.

The minute your skin is exposed to the cold air, you wrap your arms around your chest, and Zhongli takes personal offence to that, kissing your arms until you move them, and then kissing your breasts, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipples. From the way your nails dig into him, he realises that's just about as far as you’ll let him go with the teasing, so he picks you up and takes you to the bath. It’s easy when you’re as pliant as you are now—any attempt you make to push back is easily combatted with words of praise and a gentle kiss to your head, and before you know it, you’re clean and dry and pressed up against your lover’s cool skin.

“Are you still certain about this?” Zhongli strokes your hair again, gently scratching your scalp in a way that sends satisfying shivers down your spine. “I can still take the contraceptive if you want.”

“No. I want this with you,” you reiterate, pulling him into another kiss. You expect him to kiss you back softly, the way he usually does, but the fact he’s in rut has slipped your mind, and the way he captures your lips in a fiery kiss has a wave of need rushing through you. You gasp at the way his teeth graze your neck, the way his hands rest against your skin, still so gentle despite the fact you know he wants to be anything but.

A heat cramp comes over you so suddenly that Zhongli barely has the chance to register the change in your scent, but he’s quick to respond to your whimper. It’s cheeky of him, he knows, but he gently slides a hand up your thigh and lets it play with your clit for little more than a few seconds. Judging by how drenched you are, if he’d allowed himself to play for any longer, you might have taken matters into your own hands.

Zhongli whispers your name, although it comes out as more of a growl than a whisper, and you know he’s asking for your permission to take you the way he wants to—the way he craves. And even though he knows you’ll be fine, in fact, when you’re in heat you’re most compatible for a mate in rut, he feels the need to check. So when you reach for him and bite on his neck as hard as you physically can, he takes that as an okay.

It takes every single piece of patience he has to gently place your legs over his shoulder, and slowly sink himself into you. It takes even more for him to maintain a slow pace when you’re looking up at him like that, even more so when you moan his name in the breathy way he loves so dear.

“Safe word?” he asks through gritted teeth, and only when you repeat it back to him does he let himself relax a little. He slides a pillow under your hips, before whispering: “Brace yourself, love.” And even though he warns you, you’re still shocked by how hard his next thrust is—if you hadn't been in heat, it probably would have been enough to send you over the edge. His hands grip your waist so hard that in the back of your mind, you're convinced that it’s going to bruise, but the rest of your thoughts are blank, a dull hum in your head where words are supposed to be.

“Are you still alright?” he asks, as he moves his hands from your waist to your wrists.

“More. please, more,” you reply, and he obliges, quietly pleased with the way your pleas shift from words to loud moans and desperate whimpers.

“You want me to breed you, don’t you?” his voice is impossibly steady, his eyes trained on you in a way that stops you from looking elsewhere, even after he thrusts into you so hard that you want to throw your head back. Your whispered please is so faint that he almost doesn't hear it, but he does feel you clench desperately around him, and he's almost disappointed that he’s knotting you so soon.

The way you look at him is unfair. The way you scream his name as you orgasm is unfair, the way you close your eyes in bliss as he cums inside you is so. Fucking. Unfair. How is he ever supposed to win against you? You could ask him for the world, and he would create it for you.

“Is it safe to assume you’re satisfied now?” he asks you when you’re once again capable of speech.

“For now,” you respond. And even though you know it's bad to keep things from him, you don’t tell your husband that you don’t feel another heat cramp for the rest of the week.

~~~

“It has been less than a second since I stepped over the threshold of this house and you are already jumping on me.” Zhongli laughs as you barrel into his arms. He notes you smell different, but he can’t pick up what he is. As he picks you up, he thinks that you're slightly heavier than usual, but that could just be his muscles being fatigued from moving packed boxes of paperwork all day.

“You’re home early,” you smile, looking down at him. He manages to get his shoes off and walk you over to the living room, where you curl up next to him on the sofa. You have been increasingly affectionate as of the last few months and increasingly horny too, but you have those phases every so often, so Zhongli does not question it. They rarely last this long though.

He very quickly realises you’re wearing the replacement of the silk nightgown he got rid of during your last heat. He made sure it was a one-to-one replacement, but it fits differently on you now. Not a bad difference, it’s a perfect difference, he concludes.

“I missed you, my love.” he kisses you softly. “More than should be humanely possible.”

Your husband's brain has been replaced with a rock, you decide.

“I think we need to look at remodelling the fourth room,” you smile, gently pushing Zhongli to get him to sit with his back against the arm rest of the sofa.

“The room that conjoins ours?” Zhongli replies. “Why would we need to do that?”

You sit between his legs, your back against his chest, your head tilted lightly to the side so he can kiss your neck the way he always does. But this time, he hovers before he kisses you, and you use his sudden pause to take his hands and place them on your belly.

You feel his breathing pause for a second, and the silence that descends between you is warm and comfortable as realisation dawns on him.

“You’re…” Your husband is speechless for the first time ever. He sits up slowly, his eyes trained on you.

“I am,” you reply, turning around to look at him. You're shocked when you realise that he’s crying. “Oh, darling, don’t cry. You’ll set me off.” you cradle his face in his hands, gently wiping his tears away with your thumbs. He smiles at you, eyes shining with unshed tears and eternal love.

Zhongli doesn't reply; he just kisses you softly and pulls you into a hug. “I suppose I should add ‘mother of our child’ to my list of names for you,” he says quietly, pressing kisses into your hair, your cheeks, and your neck as you giggle at him. "I am certain you’ll be a great mother, deserving of every praise.”

You smile. “And you’ll be a great father.” you reply. “The best father our child could ever ask for.”

notes: i have plenty of things to blame this on but I wont even start. can smut be fluffy...? is that a thing? is this enough to make u guys forgive my absence ?

#[🚨]—restricted fiction #minors dni #zhongli smut #genshin smut #omegaverse #alpha zhongli #zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli fanfic #genshin zhongli #zhongli genshin impact #genshin impact

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kadwrites · 1 year

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my mother's daughter | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; you and your mother get into a heated argument

warnings ; arranged marriage!trope , angst , mommy issues?, fluff, soft!tommy , your mother is kinda annoying , ada is a girls girl idk

a/n ; i don't know what to think of this part ??

your nostrils flared as you stride through the venue's corridors to the room your family had booked to get ready in.

madeline and fiona walk behind you, too nervous to say anything. tommy stayed behind, too many important people were there , he couldn't just disappear yet.

you open the door and there she is, celest and her daughters around her, you lift your dress and crouch

"what did she do?" you drop the dress and hold her face in your hands , looking at her. her eyes red and her lips quivering

"it's okay..."

"no it's fucking not."

"why are you here? you should be with the guests!"

your face twitches and your sister grips your hands whispering "no no no."

your nieces hold their breath as they stare at eachother. the room is tense , the air feels scarce

you turn around, your chest is heaving with angry, shallow breaths "what the fuck is wrong with ya mum?"

she closes the door behind her, fearing someone will hear. someone was hearing all of this, madeline and fiona were behind the door.

"what are you on about , young lady?" she speaks sternly

"and ya 'ave the fucking nerve to act angry?" you walk closer, moments from the day she told you about the marriage flashing in your head "look at what ya did to 'er!"

"she wanted to wear my necklace!" she raised her voice

"who cares? it's just a necklace!" you raise your voice too

"i do! it was meant for you, not her" she points at your sister "she got her own engagement party and her own wedding when she married that twat."

"i don't fucking want it mum, i don't want the fucking necklace." your teeth grind against eachother "i don't want anything from ya."

"how dare you...." she points her finger at you now

"no mum, no ya don't get to play this fucking card anymore" your voice cracks "why couldn't ya just let us be fucking happy for once mum? why did ya 'ave to do this?" your eyes fill with tears "right when i started being happy again? when i accepted everything? you do this"

"you're acting like i ruined your party!"

"ya made my sister cry!" you point at celest "she's been the one that's comforting me, taking care of me when ya were too busy playing the role of the self righteous mother." you take a step back , pointing at celest "she will wear whatever the fuck she wants,"

your mother puts a hand on her chest "how could you speak to me like that?"

"how could ya be so selfish mum?"

"selfish?" she chuckles bitterly "you wouldn't be here without me..." she points at the door behind her "this place? you wouldn't have even dreamt of seeing without me, that dress? you wouldn't have even touched without me, nothing here would be even a reality with me."

your jaw clenches and you just stare at her, in disbelief.

you just walk out, your feet leading you to god knows where,

your mother glares at celest before turning but stopping in her tracks, seeing tommy at the door.

"girls, would ya please take your mother out? maybe take 'er to the ladies room yeah? let 'er wash 'er face." he stares at your mother while he speaks, and your nieces scurry out with their own mother

"excuse me." your mother tries to leave but he blocks her way again

"get back in here."

she turns, staring back at him

"ya will listen to me , and ya will listen carefully." he speaks in a monotone voice "ya will go to your daughter, and ya will apologize and ya will fucking behave for the rest of the night."

"what?" her brows are furrowed, she's offended

"and if ya even think of pulling a stunt like that on our wedding day, i will drag ya out of it kicking and screaming if i 'ave to." he doesn't falter or even respond to what she said

"this is a family matter, it doesn't concern you."

"she is my family," he gets closer to her "ya do not want to test me , elizabeth. ya know what im capable of."

"what are you going to do thomas? kill me?" she asks with a bitter hiss

"ya arranged this whole thing so i can protect your daughter did ya not? , that's what im fucking doing" he doesn't even dignify her protests "ya will act like a happy mother, ya will not embarrass me or my fiancée , ya will not cause a fucking scene in my engagement, do ya hear?"

she doesn't speak, just looking at him

"i said do ya fucking hear me, elizabeth?"

"yes."

"good."

you somehow found your way outside, to the garden, you sat on the marble steps. wiping off your tears as they continued to flow.

you see someone sit beside you in your peripheral vision, and you both don't talk for a minute.

"ya shouldn't cry tonight , it might bring bad luck, might curse your marriage." the person next to you spoke and you turn to see her

you recognize the features , you recognize the attitude.

"yeah well, it might as well be cursed." you look back at the beautiful rose garden, thinking maybe the sight of something beautiful will soothe the pain

"what's making ya cry then?" ada lights a cigarette, offering you one. you wave your hand, not wanting one.

"my mother" you say with a sigh, tears blurring the sight before you

"what 'appened ?"

"we had a fight about a stupid necklace" you look down, you see your tears landing on floor "i love 'er , but it's so hard for me to like 'er. it's so hard to just be around 'er"

"does she do this often ? making ya cry?"

"i guess the same way all mothers do" you speak softly, as you look at her

"why are ya letting 'er do that to ya?" she says with a raised brow "tommy says ya got fire in ya"

"well it's 'er fire that lit mine" you chuckle "it feels like i'm so much like 'er and yet we are nothing alike"

"ya 'ave two choices" she exhales the cloud of smoke as she motions with her cigarette "ya either let 'er win, let 'er make ya cry one more time or ya go and enjoy your fucking engagement party that ya spent days planning"

before you get to answer you hear a set of footsteps that are heading towards you, and when you look over your shoulder it's none other than your husband-to-be , standing there , his eyes drifting between you and his sister

you stand, looking at him, and you can't help the tear that runs down your face again

ada looks at the both of you, almost amused at how soft her brother seems, and he looks at her "would ya fucking mind?"

she puts her hands up, surrendering before walking off , still smiling in amusement

"ya can't cry today"

"bad luck aye?"

"that" he nods "and ya'll ruin your fucking makeup."

you chuckle, wiping off your tears "i'm sorry...".

he's never seen you like this, and nothing could've prepared him for how tight his chest would feel when he looked at you and saw those eyes of yours red and wet, your cheeks almost stained with tears and your voice filled with misery

"for what?" he asks softly , his body moves on its own, his thumb wipes away the tears

"for leaving alone with the guests" you sniffle a little bit, "for crying too"

"nothing for ya to apologize for."

you take a deep breath and fix any stray hairs, you smooth down your dress "we should go back" 

"look at me." he puts his hands on your shoulders and speaks with a small smile "say 'i will not let my mummy make me cry tonight' "

you raise a brow "no"

"say it now come on"

"i will not let my mummy make me cry tonight" you give him a tight lipped smile "happy?"

"very." he let's you loop your arms with his as you go back to the party.

the rest of the evening went smoothly , the guests were happy, and you were too. tommy kept your mother away from you. and you didn't even notice. celest laughed and drank with you and your friends, your dad and your brothers were having the time of their lives.

"i want to propose a toast, to the two lovely groom and bride to be. i wish you all the happiness" a guest, you recognized as a business partner of tommy's

you smiled and your champagne flute went up, and so did tommy's. and then your mother got up, holding her own flute , and your smile faltered.

tommy grasped your hand under the table , and you just glanced at him before looking back at your mother

"i want to propose a toast as well," your mother smiled, looking at you. "to my lovely daughter and tommy, i wish you both a happy long life and a bright future, cheers!"

you smiled and sipped your drink, and tommy never took his eyes off your mother

"i think i might just lose my mind and go fight 'er again." you whisper into tommy's ear, your hand on his shoulder, the other hand in his, he holds your waist as you two dance "or stab 'er with a spoon... i don't know."

he chuckled and you glared at him again "i'm glad ya find my misery amusing."

"it's less your misery and more your angry face" he murmured

you scoff and you look away, trying very hard to not smile

"ya look beautiful" his voice wasn't playful, and his eyes were soft on you.

suddenly you were hyperaware of his touch on your waist, his hand gripping yours.

you look at him again,"thank you" your smile gives you away "ya look good too, ya always do"

"i do?" he raised a brow and an amused smirk replaced his smile

"ya don't 'ave a mirror in your mansion?"

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#kadwrites #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine

2K notes · View notes

weemssapphic · 10 months

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Strange

PART ONE: Isn't it strange?

Link to part two!

Brienne of Tarth x f!reader

Summary: Betraying the King is one thing. Betraying the King when the Lord Commander is your girlfriend? That’s another.

Words: ~1.4k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: angst, breakups, hurt/no comfort (pssst... part 2 has a happy ending!)

A/N: The first part of this fic is a songfic to Strange by Celeste - I highly recommend listening to it as you read. Special thanks to @dianneking for being an excellent beta! ✨

I tried for you Tried to see through all the smoke and dirt It wouldn’t move What could I do?

You sit gingerly at the edge of the bed that you share with Brienne - the Brienne of Tarth. You’ve been together for nearly three years now and, still, she makes your heart beat just a little faster and your stomach do a somersault every time she looks at you. Just the thought of her is usually enough to make you swoon - usually.

Your eyes scan your surroundings, filling with tears as you realize it may be the last time you’ll sit here, on this bed, in this little cottage. A small home filled with memories, filled with love. Little trinkets on every shelf, gifts from you to Brienne, and from Brienne to you; paintings on the walls, each carrying a unique story; every piece of furniture carefully crafted to satisfy both of your tastes. Memories of sitting at the dining table sharing meals, of staying up late curled up in front of the fire to talk, of making love in the pale glow of dawn, sleepy and lazy - carefree and in love. Your eyes fall to the bags next to you on the bed - almost packed.

Say, isn’t it strange? Isn’t it strange? I am still me You are still you In the same place

The door to the cottage slams open, deafening in the otherwise quiet space. Brienne storms in, her face red and her jaw clenched. Instinctively, you rise to your feet as she comes to a stop in front of you.

Isn’t it strange? How people can change From strangers to friends Friends into lovers And strangers again

“Why would you do that?” she spits out - you’ve never seen her fury directed at you before, and it breaks your heart just as much as it ignites a fury of your own inside of you.

“He let hundreds of women and children die or worse, and I’m supposed to stand around and pretend the great King doesn’t deserve to be gutted on his throne for what he’s done? How can you defend him?”

“It’s my duty.” Brienne’s face is hard and her tone unwavering, and she stands straight and tall, and, Gods, does that piss you off.

“Fuck duty! Since when is duty more important than doing the right thing?” Your chest is rising and falling erratically now, your cheeks flushed with anger. You can’t believe she would take the King’s side over your own - but then, she’s a knight. You shouldn’t have expected her to be different.

Brienne looks like she’s about to raise her voice again, but then her eyes fall to the bags at your feet and the color drains from her face. “What are you doing?”

“It wouldn’t look too good for you to be with a traitor,” you say, keeping your voice level - as level as you can, at least, as you drink in Brienne’s expression, watching her heart break in real time.

“It… what?” Brienne’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. Her lower lip begins to quiver and she swallows visibly as her eyes dart between you and the packed bags.

What did we lose? What did we lose?

“I’m a traitor now, apparently. I cannot stay here - and the righteous and just Lord Commander should not be seen with a traitor - it’s unbecoming of a knight.” You try for a smile but it looks more like a pained grimace - you feel tears prick at your eyes once again as Brienne’s own eyes turn watery, pale eyelashes fluttering rapidly against her cheekbones.

If I could, I’d pull your strings for one more dance But I can’t

“This life is everything you’ve ever worked for. I can’t be the one to take that away from you. But… I can’t stay. It’s better for both of us like this - you get to keep your position and your honor. And I…” You swallow thickly - your own words sound foreign to you, so far away. “I won’t have to watch the woman I love sell her soul to a heartless monster.”

Brienne’s lips part but she says nothing - the hurt on her face says more than words ever could, but so does her silence. That breaks your own heart most of all.

“Brienne, I-” The words catch in your throat - they can’t get past the lump that has settled there, dying before they even reach your lips.

Isn’t it strange? You look at me I look at you With nothing to say

You have never seen Brienne look at you the way she’s looking at you now - a strange mixture of grief, remorse, and incredulity that looks foreign to you amongst her features. Her eyes, which usually hold all the stars in the galaxy, twinkling brightly, are reserved and guarded. Her lips are pressed into a hard line - curling down slightly at the edges, rather than up. A stray golden curl falls across her furrowed brow - you feel yourself reaching out involuntarily to brush it aside, a force of habit, before thinking better of it and dropping your arm to your side.

“I should go,” you croak out. You reach into your bedside table and pull out an ornate necklace, made of solid gold and sapphires the colors of the waters of Tarth. It’s all Brienne has from her mother, and Brienne had given it to you on your first anniversary - it would suit you better than it had ever suited her, she’d reasoned, and you’d always carry a part of her and of Tarth with you when you wore it. “Here. It was your mother’s, you should have it back.”

Brienne’s eyes widen, the crease between her brows deepens. Her teeth sink into her lower lip to prevent it from quivering again and she turns her head, a shaky breath leaving her throat. “No. I gave it to you - keep it. Please.”

The ‘please’ tapers off into a tremble and you feel the entirety of Westeros being pulled out from underneath your feet. You want to do what she says - but you can’t. She deserves to have a piece of her family with her - and you know you could never wear it again without feeling the weight of your grief hanging around your neck.

“I can’t.” You place it delicately on the bed - it catches the rays of the setting sun, and the sapphires remind you of Brienne’s eyes, and you glance up at the ceiling, willing your oncoming tears not to fall. You reach down to grab your bags, then, with a deep breath and one last look around the cottage (memorizing, desperately memorizing), you head past Brienne out the door.

Gravel crunches underneath your boots as you round the cottage, taking quick strides towards your horse. A second set of footsteps is not far behind and, as you fasten the bags to your horse’s saddle, slender fingers grip your wrist.

“Don’t leave. Please. Don’t. Leave.” Brienne’s voice breaks this time, and you don’t have to turn around to know that she’s crying. You close your eyes for a moment to steel yourself, then turn to face her. Her expression hurts like nothing you’ve ever experienced, her face scrunched up as tears leave pale tracks down her cheeks.

“I don’t have a choice,” you whisper, your own voice hoarse and trembling. “They’ll be searching for me soon enough. And you have to tell them that I was gone before you came home. If you want to keep your position, you need to let me go.”

Brienne’s eyes dart between your own and, for a moment, you hope she won’t let you leave. You hope she’ll say that she’ll take your side, that she’ll fight for you - her position be damned. You hope she’ll hop on the horse with you and ride away. You hope she’ll choose you.

But she doesn’t. Her grip on your wrist loosens and her hand falls back down to her side, and though she cries and cries and cries, she stays rooted to the spot.

There you have your answer, you suppose. You swallow against the lump in your throat and turn away, ignoring the broken wail that leaves Brienne’s throat as you mount your horse.

“I love you, Brienne,” you whisper softly - you don’t think she’s heard it over her own sobs, and maybe that’s for the best. You start to ride off, looking back only once, just before you reach a bend in the road that will take you out of King’s Landing. Brienne watches you - but she doesn’t move to follow.

Isn’t it strange? How people can change From strangers to friends Friends into lovers And strangers again

Find part two here!

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69 @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @syrenacrainn @mysaviorfalsegod @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @sweetderacine @daydream-cement @milfomaniac @sapphos-ode @ilovetlcc @ladylarissaweems @makemyworldworthliving @yourmomwhitediamond

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#brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth

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hazyange1s · 5 months

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MC: Diana Blackwine

Basics

Full name: Diana Seren Blackwine

Nicknames: Di, D

Gender: female

Species: witch (and technically a starseed but that’s on the DL)

Date of birth: February 2, 1875

Nationality: Scottish and Welsh

Blood status: pureblood

Wand: vine, phoenix feather, 10 1/2 in, supple

Appearance

Hair color: jet black

Hair style: worn down in loose curls or in half-up styles

Eye color: teal

Skin tone: pale/peachy

Height: 5’2”

Body type: petite

Clothing style: rich jewel tones and cool shades (blue, purple, silver), smooth and light fabrics (satin, silk, cotton)

Accessories:

Blackwine family ring

moonstone necklace (gifted to her by Ominis)

scarf lover…like, a whole collection

Other distinguishing features:

scar over the bridge of her nose (from an inferi in the catacombs the night of Solomon’s death)

light freckles over her nose and cheeks

star shaped birthmark on her wrist

Personality

Traits: artistic, compassionate, spiritual, wise, diplomatic, indecisive, absentminded, self-righteous, people pleaser

Likes: sweets, winter, classical composers, art, theory, random acts of kindness

Dislikes: yellow, frogs, closed-mindedness, being forced to act on a whim

Fears: loss (of loved ones, of herself), change, small spaces, FROGS

Hobbies: painting, violin, stargazing, cartography

MBTI: INFJ-T

Enneagram: 5w6 (592) so/sx

Zodiac: aquarius sun, pisces moon, libra rising

Temperament: phlegmatic

Archetype: The Sage

Similar characters: Feyre Archeron, Belle (Beauty and the Beast), Katara, Luna Lovegood, Sam Winchester

Family/Friends

Father: Bennett Blackwine

Retired Unspeakable —> astronomer

Pureblood wizard

Killed during a home break in when Diana was 14

Ravenclaw alumnus

Mother: Guinevere Blackwine (Faughn)

Pureblood witch

Portrait painter and poet

Killed alongside Diana’s father

Slytherin alumnus

Aunt/Guardian: Celeste Blackwine

Pureblood witch

Owns a clothing shop

Ravenclaw alumnus

Pet: Saoirse

Scottish fold

Gifted on her thirteenth birthday

Loves Ominis’s cat Phoebe, lounging in the common room, and annoying Raegan’s Phoenix

Friends:

Ominis Gaunt

Sebastian Sallow

Raegan DesRosiers

Poppy Sweeting

Amit Thakkar

Samantha Dale

Magic

Boggart: two cloaked figures

Patronus: black mare

Polyjuice: turns shimmering indigo and tastes like blueberry syrup

Amortentia: Jasmine, chamomile, dark chocolate, and paint

Special abilities:

Ancient magic - especially gifted in weather spells (don’t mind the sudden thunderstorm over the castle… she’s just having a bad day.)

Seer (receives most of her prophecies through dreams, but is also skilled at tarotmancy and osteomancy as well as astrology)

Backstory

Born on the Isle of Skye in Glen Sligachan, Scotland, Diana was raised as the only daughter and heiress to the Blackwine fortune; a family of the sacred 28. She often traveled with her parents, as their lines of work took them all over Great Britain and Northern Europe.

When Diana was around age seven, her governess began to report frequent distractions, being late to lessons, and speaking out of turn - which caused her parents concern. She was believed to have a behavioral disorder and was promptly given a slew of experimental drugs to remedy it… with no luck.

Her father was patient and understanding, while her mother was a different story; especially when Diana grew older and still showed no signs of possessing magic.

When Diana was fifteen, her manor was broken into in the middle of the night. By the time she awoke to the sound of screams and made it to the study, her parents were both dead - and the murderers gone. This is the trigger for her magic to be awakened, which shatters every piece of glass in the room the moment she finds them. The case remains unsolved for many years.

But she gets her Hogwarts letter (as Raegan did) just after the funeral, and finds hope in what’s to come despite the horrors that follow her.

Academics

Best subject: Divination

Favorite subject(s): Astronomy. Divination, and Charms

Favorite teacher: Onai

Worst subject: Potions

Favorite subject(s): Astronomy and Divination

Least favorite teacher: Shah “asTroNoMy is nOT dIVInaTIOn”

Quidditch: Seeker in seventh year (voluntold to play by Raegan)

As a student:

Teacher’s pet without even trying to be

Late to almost every class and has too much missed Potions homework to count

Miraculously avoids most trouble (it’s not miraculous, her friends just take the detentions for her)

Future

Career: Astronomy Professor and Seer

Diana goes back and forth for a long time on her career choice - wanting to stay true to herself and help others at the same time. So, she winds up following in her father’s footsteps, and becomes the new Astronomy professor once Shah retires. She also takes over for Professor Hecat as the Head of Ravenclaw house (quite fitting). On the side (and when she eventually leaves Hogwarts for good), Diana is known to help local residents by offering Divination services such as tarot readings and osteomancy - and her predictions, when they come.

Spouse: Ominis Gaunt (m. 1896)

#my original baby #she’s been neglected lately so it’s time to post #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #hogwarts legacy screenshots #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #hphl oc #ravenclaw

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rivensbane · 9 months

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help your local indecisive loser(me) pick which game to play next? 👉👈

#daisy.txt #ty ty #i finished dredge 😭 need something else to play but i cannae decide

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stressed-depressed-andobsessed · 3 months

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Yo love your ideas! I was thinking of a Hamilton AU a few weeks ago! I saw Celeste as Maria because she's conning for money and a gaslighting queen, and Junko as the king watching as the country struggles for fun.

For heathers I see Chihiro for Martha cause they were bullied but meek and kind. Green heather as Celeste (Celeste is pissed about not getting the main Heather at first but does amazing), Sayaka as yellow heather cause she's a cheerleader and she can cry on command. And Mukuro as Veronica, pulling off the "I'm not pretty and I'm unpopular" until Junko gives her a makeover. Maybe one night Mukuro can't make it and Toko is her understudy and has to perform. I can see her singing "fight for me" really well (She never thought she'd actually have to perform and FREAKS out, but ends up killing it.) Hiro as the other football player with Leon (Taka REFUSES), and Asahina being the unhinged cheerful teacher. I see Taka being the dad singing "I love my dead gay sons" trying to turn his loss into something righteous to help others be more accepting. The other dad is just Hiro again with a stick on mustache and glasses. (Or maybe Hifume)

That's just my interpretation, I love seeing other people's ideas and having discussions with them! If you want, how would you cast them in "Be More Chill"?

YOOOO Big Brain Energy ^^^^^

Celeste and Junko being swapped is super clever, Celeste is a really good actor since she literally acts as CELESTIA LUDENBURG everyday and Junko being a condescending King and loving it as the wars break out is such a great fit for her!!

The Heathers swap outs are genius exemplary!!! Honestly, my interpretations were more about who I would've liked to personally see rather than who would fit the characters.

Celeste and Sayaka as Green and Yellow Heather respectively are amazing! I didn't take into account Sayaka's crying abilities, but it would make sense that she can activate those crocodile tears whenever she wants (or needs)!

Mukuro and Toko not even needing to act much because they are already socially awkward as it is is brilliant! Toko swooping in as the understudy is adorable, I love seeing situations that make Toko come out of her shell a little! (That's partly why I adore Despair Girls so much) Once she gets her stuttering a little bit under control, she would kill in Fight for Me. (Maybe if she imagines it's Byakuya she's singing to, it'll help her calm down more) The same goes for Mukuro, I'm sad that she has to be in her sister's shadow so much so it's nice when the fanbase lets her do things. (even though she's still kinda with her sister in the musical since Junko follows her around a lot)

I originally thought of Hiro and Leon being the Dumb Fuckboys (Kurt and Ram) together, it would make the most sense. I love the fact that you see the vision too!

Hina being the Chaotic teacher isn't something I originally thought of, but it would definitely fit! Nice catch! I can definitely see her putting her all into Ms. Fleming song about reading the suicide note and trying to make the kids express themselves (I forgot the song name) and really killing it!

Taka and Hiro being the Gay Dads is so funny. I DID NOT consider that for a second, but it has so much potential. If Hiro walked out in glasses and a mustache (and maybe that cliche brown hat) I would die. I think the whole cast would. That is so funny. I can imagine him quickly changing out of his underwear in the back, just for this one song. I love thinking about Taka singing the stupid 'I Love my Dead Gay Son' because it's such a silly song and he's so serious about everything so he would definitely be extremely serious about saying the song lines and-

Bravo! You've entertained me, your ideas are gold.

I'm so sorry, but I don't actually know much about Be More Chill. I've read the book twice, but didn't actually retain anything from it. I've never seen the musical/movie either and I don't really have an interest in it. Sorry again, I wish I did. All I remember is that there's some kind of drug/chip in someone's brain and there's a house party that leads to a fire.

#danganronpa #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #kiyotaka ishimaru #sayaka maizono #heathers musical #heathers #celestia ludenberg #chihiro fujisaki #yasuhiro hagakure #in a mustache and glasses #leon kuwata #aoi asahina #toko fukawa #mukuro ikusaba #junko enoshima #bye loves!#💛🤍💜🖤

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midmorninggrey · 22 days

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How about 4, 5, and 18 for your canon heroes? (And anyone else you'd like to answer for!)

Hey Ad! Thanks for the asks <3

Cal's gonna be my placeholder Warden this time because he probably has the most connection to The Chantry. (I've gotta get Annika Aeducan off the bench sometime soon)

From the DA Worldstate Questions

4. Attitude towards Andrastianism?

Cal: He remains a devout Andrastian, although he'll readily admit that he skips services and swears more as he should. He has been able to recite the entirety of the Chant of Light since he was seven years old. He believes in the Maker. He believes that magic is made only to serve man; the Darkspawn are evidence enough of that. He believes in The Void.

Gillian Hawke: She goes to services regularly, but it's more for the social aspect than faith.

Arden Trevelyan: Even he would acknowledge that his faith is complicated? Arden believes he's had spiritual dreams since he was a child. He found no comfort in the strict Orlesian Chantry traditions he was brought up in, and he ran away from Ostwick in search of answers. Unfortunately, his youth and inner turmoil led him to increasingly fanatical groups, which culminated in him joining the ranks of an Old God worshiping dragon cult.

Eventually, Celeste's mother Toni rescued him from being fed to a dragon - but Arden didn't leave all of the Cultist's beliefs behind. He has faith that Andraste's and the Chant of Light are the truth; he just does not believe that they are the whole truth.

Celeste Trevelyan: She truly believed she was The Herald of Andraste, and she still prefers the title, nearly a decade after the truth of the Conclave was reveled at Adamant. She was raised to believe in Andraste as a woman who spoke the truth to dragons - why wouldn't she want to embody her?

5. Attitude towards the Chantry?

Cal: He belonged to the Chantry since birth, and part of him is still seeking the Chantry's forgiveness for failing their expectations of a mage.

The one area of the Chantry that Cal will openly speak ill toward is their vilification of elven and dwarven religions. Grey Wardens found strength in all faiths, and he sees no reason to disparage that.

Gillian Hawke: Growing up with the constant threat that her father and sister could be taken by Templars, Gillian has always detested the Chantry. In her early adolescence, she began writing the Reverend Mother letters to encourage reforming the Chantry's position on elves and mages. Her letter writing stopped when Lothering Templars came to investigate; not because she was scared, but because Bethany was. Unsurprisingly, her opinion sours further upon reaching Kirkwall. She does not understand how Elthina could achieve such a position and then be afraid to use its influence. Gillian does not have much patience for those who claim blindness.

Arden Trevelyan: He does not see the Chantry as an institute of faith, but the center of overreaching power and greed in Thedas. He believes they are committing the ultimate disgrace by using the names of Andraste and the Maker to justify their abuses.

The Trevelyan family has close ties to the Chantry due to their Lyrium mines, and Arden grew up watching his father, who was the worst man he knew, regularly meet with Clerics and other supposedly righteous figures to discuss violent business. He promised to the Templar order, but they eventually expelled him from training on account of his continued antagonistic and disruptive behavior.

By the time of the Inquisition, he has learned to stifle some of his most radical opinions, but he does not take kindly to those who name his daughter "the Herald of Andraste" for their own benefit.

Celeste Trevelyan: She grew up outside most traditional Chantry teachings, with her father holding services for them at home, but she knew to be wary of Templars. The idea of being penned into a Circle forever is terrifying to her.

18. Do they have any irrational fears?

Cal: Sometimes, even when he is sitting at a table with them, he gets this terrible fear that his friends are dead.

Gillian Hawke: Maybe its not completely irrational, but Gill has a terrible fear of being possessed, even though she's not a mage. She overheard her father speaking to Bethany about it once and had nightmares for a week straight.

Arden Trevelyan: He doesn't like to have doors completely shut -though it might be more of a superstition than a fear.

Celeste Trevelyan: She does worry that she could make something bad happen again - like the Conclave. It comes through in little things, like choosing what to eat for breakfast or what shoe to take off first.

#thanks again!!#had to stop myself from writing essays so i hope these aren't too long lol #oc: cal the canary #oc: gillian hawke #oc: arden trevelyan #oc: celeste trevelyan #oc asks

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