#damnably handsome | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year

Text

Wrap Around Pt.1

Pairing(s): Oberyn Martell x Martell!Reader, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

Warnings: siblingxsibling implied, longing

Words: 2033

Summary: Oberyn was beside himself at the return of his baby sister (y/n). For a year she had been off in Essos, experiencing the rest of the world outside of the safety of Sunspear. Now she was returning to Dorne. Returning to Oberyn.

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANY OF THE WARNINGS/TAGS

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“Her ship still isn’t here yet?” Irritated, Oberyn makes the servant squirm uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze. Normally Oberyn was quick to please and in a jolly mood. There was none of that.

“No, your Grace. Her ship seems to be lagging.” He awkwardly informs the Prince of Dorne.

Near the archway of his chambers, Ellaria was lounging on a long, cushioned bench. She watches as the poor boy flees once given permission by Oberyn. “Calm down, my love. The ship will get here when it gets here. You yelling at squires won’t make it sail any faster.”

His brow was tense on his handsome face. “I haven’t seen my baby sister in a year. I need to see her face. It’s been far too long.”

Ellaria coles and rises, her robes flowing after her as she glides over to Oberyn. Hands smooth out Oberyn’s knotted shoulders. (y/n)’s initial departure had been hard enough on Oberyn. For days after Ellaria stayed by his side as he longed for his sister. Now that she was returning, he was once more growing impatient on her arrival.

She kisses the length of his neck, feeling his form relax under her touch. “You know how arduous traveling by sea is. The wait will be worth it once you see her.”

Closing his eyes, Oberyn sighs and allows Ellaria to lead him to a chair. Dutifully pouring him a goblet of rich Dornish red. Dark as blood but oh so sweet on the tongue.

He should have never let (y/n) leave for Essos. She claimed that she wanted to see more of the world and since she was not allowed to go to Westeros on her own (Oberyn had already lost one sister there, he wasn’t going to lose another), her brothers relented. Giving her a ship to Essos was safer than having her travel in Westeros where Lannisters and Tyrells could easily prey upon her. For so long after Elia’s death, Oberyn kept her safe in Dorne. No one would dare to take his young sister from their own home. (y/n) wanted to spread her wings though. Too headstrong to be tethered down. She was not delicate like Doran and Elia had been. There was venom in her, a will that couldn’t be broken, nor did Oberyn ever want to. He loved (y/n), faults and all of her fire.

“If she comes back with a boy, you must promise not to hurt him.” Ellaria suddenly muses while petting his dark head.

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Oberyn before. (y/n) was of perfect marrying age and much like himself had a healthy carnal appetite. What if she had decided to bring someone home? Perhaps when she visited Trystane in Norvos where his mother lived their nephew might have introduced her to someone. A beautiful foreigner that peaked her interests enough for her to want to bring them home. It made Oberyn’s stomach drop.

“Then the boy must be ready to prove himself. No man is worthy of my sister if they are not prepared to fight me.”

Ellaria knew that there was more to it. Expert hands fann on his broad shoulders and begin to knead them. “Even here, feelings like that are looked down upon.” They never spoke about it. Hardly brought it up because of the sadness that followed. Incest was rife in Westeros, but never in Dorne. Have a lover, even two if you like, but it could never be a sibling. That was the one taboo everyone agreed upon. It was viewed as unnatural, even damnable. And perhaps another reason why Doran was willing to give (y/n) her own ship to travel for months at a time. He saw what Ellaria did: a brother who loved his sister too much for comfort.

Not saying anything, Oberyn gingerly grabs one of Ellaria’s hands and pulls it down so that he could kiss her smooth knuckles. “I just want to see her.”

Off in the distance they could hear the low blow of a horn. Oberyn was on his feet in seconds, a big grin plastered on his face making him look ten years younger.

“She’s here!” **

Your heart rattled the cage of your chest once you caught sight of land and the shining top of Sunspear’s palace, even the looming vegetation of the Water Gardens could vaguely be seen.

The warm Dornish breeze kissed your face, welcoming you back home. Although you had fun during your solo journey, you sorely missed Sunspear and all the people that lived there. You wondered how much your nieces had changed, if they even did at all. Arianne and Tyene had been close companions to you growing up. The three of you spent your early adolescence playing in the Water Garden and flirting with whatever poor boy got stuck in your alluring trap. You loved Oberyn dearly, but you could never have fun with the opposite sex when he was around. Entangle yourself with another woman? Sure, go for it. But if Oberyn caught a whiff of a male scent, he was right there to scare them off. Being with your nieces did a lot of good for you as you were allowed to escape Oberyn at least for a few hours.

You smile to yourself when you think of your possessive brother.

Retrieving a piece of cloth that was normally tied to your wrist, you press it under your nose. After so long it still smelled like Oberyn. Before leaving for your first stop, Lys, you had snuck into Oberynb’s room and cut a strip of fabric from one of his shirts. A token to take with you, for even though he chased all the boys away, Oberyn was your favorite person. More than Arianne and Tyene. More than your older brother Doran. He was your light. When Elia was murdered, Oberyn slept in your room every night because of your haunting nightmares. He pressed you close to his bare chest and you drowned yourself in his calming scent. Cloves, spices, and a bit of natural musk was your security blanket.

The sway of the ship brought you back.

You’d be seeing him shortly. You let go of the scrap of cloth, ignoring it as it fell to the ground. There was no need for it anymore. You were home.

“(Y/N)!!”

Even through the shout, you knew who it was. The closer you got, the more you could make out Oberyn at the dock; hands cupped around his mouth as he called out to you. Two armed guards stood sentry behind Oberyn and Ellaria. Of course they would be the first ones to greet you.

Leaning over the side, you call out “OBERYN!!”

Then, to the deckhands utter shock, you did the unthinkable. Getting up on the ledge of the ship, you dove into the sparkling water below. Their screams were drowned out once the water enveloped you. Breaching the surface, you swim over to the dock’s shore where Oberyn was running to.

“You crazy girl!” Oberyn was laughing as he helped you up and out of the water. His own trousers getting wet in the process but neither of you cared. He grabbed onto you for dear life and nearly suffocated you in his embrace. That’s when you heard the delighted screams of your nieces running into the water as well. Arianne excitedly skipped in, her dress skirts immediately getting wet. Tyene was a little more hesitant than her cousin but lifted up the hem of her dress and waded in. While Nymeria was close behind Tyene, Obara and Ellaria chose to stay on shore.

Even though saltwater stung your eyes and soaked into your clothes, you had never been happier. In the arms of your family you felt secure and loved.

Being drenched from head to toe made the way back to Sunspear’s palace a little uncomfortable, but at least you weren’t the only one. Nymeria had charged in, knocking all four of you into the water. Oberyn’s long hair was dripping as was Arianne’s. The way back, Tyene sulked over her wet attire; silently shooting daggers over at her half-sister.

Before facing your brother Doran, the reigning Prince of Dorne, you desperately needed a bath and a change of clothes. Being in that state was okay when it was in front of Oberyn, not the eldest child of Prince Egemen and Bahar Martell. Even if he was your brother, you still had to appear proper in front of the ruler of Dorne.

Departing from your welcome wagon, you were taken for your required bath. It felt like heaven to slip out of your soiled garments and into the steaming hot water that the maids had quickly supplied for you.

Sprinkling small jasmine flowers into the water made the floral scent begin to rise and fill your nostrils. As fun as your travels had been, this was your home that you had missed.

Hadiye, a hand maid who had been with you for years, goes to answer a knock at your washroom door. You could hear her quiet protest. “Prince Oberyn, your sister is almost done with her bath.”

Quite easily, Oberyn pushed past her. “That’s alright. You forget that (y/n) and I used to bathe together as children. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Besides, I want to hear of her adventures in the vast land of Essos!”

Gawking at the prince that was now striding over to your massive tiled tub, Hadiye looks to you and Melisa who had been lathering your hair with essential oils at the time of Oberyn’s disruption. Melisa, who was lower in rank than Hadiye, takes a step away from you and bows in your brother’s presence.

He waves them off. “You two may leave. My sister and I have much to catch up on.”

From her nervous glances at you, you assure the women that it would be alright. Before you left, this had been normal. Oberyn barging in on you as you bathed so he could keep you company and talk. Still, you knew how much this fact made others uncomfortable. “Go on. Let Prince Doran know that I will be ready in a little bit.”

Obedient Hadiye bows and ushers Melisa out.

“Such fretting hens.” Oberyn clicks.

“They surely haven’t changed one bit.”

Finally the two of you were alone. Releasing a sigh as he gets down on his knees, Oberyn sits on the floor; back leisurely pressed against your tub. Of course he never looked directly at you while you bathed. That would be inappropriate.

“So tell me of the year I have missed out on.” **

He had hoped things would be different once (y/n) came home. That her and Oberyn would stop tip-toeing the line of being inappropriate with each other. Yet his retainer had just told him what Hadiye had relayed.

Prince Doran purses his lips and runs a hand over his brow. They had always been too close, even before Elia’s murder. Elia had fretted over the relationship her younger siblings had. She wanted (y/n) to be married as soon as possible, preferably to a Dornish lord so that (y/n) would not have to suffer in a foreign land. Doran knew better. If he were to marry off (y/n), Oberyn would bring upon the apocalypse. Many times he had stated that no man could take (y/n) unless they defeated him in combat. Which more than likely meant Oberyn would kill any potential suitors.

What to do about them was becoming quite a problem for Doran. No young lord wanted to risk their life in order to claim (y/n). His father had taught all he may need to know for ruling Dorne, except for this. Times like this made him miss Elia. Under her care, Oberyn and (y/n) were more docile. Oberyn kept his possessiveness at bay while (y/n) kept her encouragement to a minimum. They clung to one another furiously after Elia’s premature demise.

Even with his paramour, Ellaria, Oberyn kept a tight grip on (y/n) and vice versa. Like snakes entwined in their mating dance.

He feared for his younger siblings. Their attraction to each other would ruin them.

234 notes · View notes

brandyllyn · 2 years

Text

Sinners

Pero Tovar x f!reader

Summary: "I do not understand you, Pero Tovar. Or this… whatever this is. But I will not give something that cannot be returned." Words: 8.4k

My Masterlist

Rated: Explicit Warnings: pining. talk of adultery (no one actually commits it). a lot of reference to vaguely Catholic religion on reader’s part. smut.

This one is @pedropascalsx ‘s fault. She attacked me without warning. Don’t let her convince you otherwise.

He was too handsome, that was your first thought.

Well, not your first. When he had arrived in town he had looked like one of the roving monsters from the tales of your childhood - teeth flashing from behind a scraggly mess of a beard. You had quickly stepped out of his line of sight; peering from around the corner of a crofter’s cottage as he rode by, his companion’s horse trailing just behind him. They were obviously only passing through, likely stopping for supplies before moving on.

But they hadn’t.

Instead they had taken up residence on the south end of the village, a lop-sided building that had stood empty since the elderly couple who lived there had passed, their son long lost to war.

The man had stalked the town for nearly a week, speaking with locals and buying supplies. Stores were low this late in the winter but summer was just around the corner and with the promise of new crops the villagers were more than willing to sell the last of the foods that had seen them through the cold months. You had avoided him the entire time, his angry visage and large frame enough to send you quickly in the opposite direction.

How quickly you had proven shallow.

When he walked through the village a sennight later, on his way to the smithy, freshly shaven and his hair cut into neat curls at the base of his neck, your heart had skipped a beat. His lips were full, and the chin you had assumed weak was instead perfectly framed by a strong jaw. Even the scar over his eye only highlighted the angular jut of his cheekbones.

He was beautiful.

And married.

Who else could the woman be who had arrived with him? Who shared his home in the one room cottage? They were not related - her features reflected far-distant lands - and she treated him with a familiarity borne only from shared experience.

She was a lucky woman.

The Holy texts only mentioned coveting of thy neighbor’s wife, yet surely coveting her husband was equally damnable in the eyes of the Lord. But you couldn’t seem to help drifting by the forge a few times during the next week. Nor could you resist letting your eyes settle on the muscles of his back as they strained under the weight of the hammer he was lifting with trained precision.

Envy was a sin. But surely it could not be a sin to look?

You did not ask, you knew what the answer was.

And yet…

And yet you found yourself altering your route to the forest, eyes darting to the smithy in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him. In the bracken woods your fingers moved without conscious thought, your mind elsewhere as you imagined what it might be like to share the small cottage with him. And at night, you bit your teeth into the meaty part of your palm to muffle the your own fingers and thoughts of him were drawing from you.

It was a sin, you knew that. But then again, you’d always known you were a sinner.

Pero Tovar had spent his life in battle. He knew the whistle of an arrow as it passed his ear and the precise noise a knife made as it parted flesh. He could identify the craftsmanship of a blade whether it was from the Far East or the wilds below the sands of the Sahara. He knew the moment to strike, and more importantly when to hold his own counsel - when to fight and when to run.

And he knew when he was being watched.

The woman made no attempt to hide it, darting glances at him from behind long eyelashes. At first he’d bristled at the attention, waiting for the sneering comments or sharp gestures that were sure to follow. But they never came. Day after day he saw her, more and more often, once even caught her staring at him from afar with her lips slightly parted, her basket of herbs loose in her grip.

Wiping the sweat from his brow with one hand he’d nearly called out to her, scolded her for her inhospitality and rudeness. But her gaze had fallen to his bare arms, her lips parting even further and he’d flexed for her almost unconsciously. Even from meters away he could see her sudden swallow, nearly hear her gasp as she quickly turned her back on him and all but ran into the woods.

Humming thoughtfully, Pero traded his large working mallet for one of the smaller hammers, ignoring the sparks that flew as he repaired the tines on a pitchfork. He had assumed the local healer was only wary of him - many in the village gave him a wide berth and he did not blame them. But he knew that look in a woman’s eye - could clock the rise and fall of a bosom as easily as he could the footfall of an assassin.

She wanted him.

After that he began to work shirtless more often, using only the leather aprons for cover, making a point of stretching and reaching whenever he caught the movement of her in the corner of his vision. He did not acknowledge her staring - she would likely faint and he was enjoying the attention too much to see it come to an end.

It was nice, to be wanted, even knowing that he was still not worthy of her. Nor was he free to pursue her. Lin Mae had his presence as protection from the villagers. And while it seemed unlikely they would turn on her, he had promised William when they left that he would protect the man’s love with his life if needed. The least he could do was give her the protection of his name.

It hadn’t seemed like such a large ask, when it was made. But now his fingers itched to reach for another. To draw someone else into his arms. He did not deserve her, had no chance with her, but was it not the penance of those damned to dream of what they could not have?

The first day he changed his schedule he missed her entirely. The second he found himself arriving at the smithy just as she appeared around the far corner. It took him four tries, in fact, to time his short journey so that they rounded a corner at the same time, nearly running into one another.

"Oh!" she let out a short yelp and stumbled backwards and he reached a hand out to steady her under one elbow.

"Pardon," he tried not to think of how smooth her skin felt.

They walked to the smithy in silence, the light scent of honeysuckle drifting up from her hair. It stayed in his nose the rest of the day, teasing his senses and making his blood thump loudly in his ears.

The next day he did not scare her, in fact he was nearly certain she had timed her arrival as well, falling into step beside him without a word. They did not touch, not even a brush of her arm against his. And at the forge he left her without so much as a goodbye - ignoring the urge to look back and see if she watched after him. If her eyes traced over him the way his hands longed to trace over her. To wrap his fingers around the back of her neck and-

No, those thoughts were for the nights. Laying on his pallet near the fire, one hand stacked behind his head and the other around his cock. In the darkness he could pretend he was another man - one free to court her and touch her. To find out what his name might sound like when it fell from her lips on a sigh of pure pleasure. A man she might choose.

He was doing it on purpose.

At first you had thought he was confronting you. Lying in wait for you to leave your home so he could scold you for your licentious behavior. But he hadn’t said a word

Nor did he say one the next day when you met in the small clearing between your cottages, walking side by side until you parted ways behind the smithy. On the third day you didn’t even need to go to the woods, it was a day for brewing and drying. But you went anyway, walking near to the silent man and gathering kindling before making your way back.

It was impossible that no one would notice.

No one said anything to you, not directly. You were the best healer for leagues in any direction and they would turn a blind eye to any multitude of transgressions before dismissing you. But you did see the Master Smith giving him what looked like a stern lecture one day, both men’s eyes following you as you fetched water from the stream.

The next day he was not there and you sighed as you skirted the edge of the smithy, sighing louder when he was not there. It had been a short fantasy, and not an unproblematic one. You would do well to remember that he was spoken for - and that anything beyond mere companionship was not fated.

But then he spoke to you. Catching up with you one morning as though he had never missed a day.

"Morrow to you."

"Morrow," you mumbled, trying not to stumble. His voice was gravelly and deep, exactly as you had expected it to be.

"The Master Smith says you have a salve for burns," he continued. "I do not believe it is serious but-"

You stopped in your tracks, turning to him and scanning what of him you could see with a trained eye. "Show me."

Sighing, he pushed one sleeve up, revealing blistered red flesh high on his forearm. You held back a gasp, reaching out with one hand to grip above his elbow. "This will scar," you told him with a frown. His lips twitched and you realized suddenly that he was covered in them. Thick and thin, burns and cuts.

"I would hate to add another," he said dryly.

Biting back your own smile you prodded lightly at the edge of the burn, listening to the quick hiss of his breath. "It will need to be covered, come with me."

You didn’t wait to see if he followed, your cottage was not far and he was welcome to make the decision for himself. But a moment later you heard him fall into step beside you. He even held your own door open, only ducking inside once you had and leaving it slightly ajar so that any passers-by would be able to see what was happening. A courtesy you had not expected.

"Sit," you ordered, pointing at a low stool. He did not argue, sinking onto it and resting his arm on your table. You gathered your supplies quickly, a jar and a stack of clean bandages.

"When did this happen?" you asked as you set the items near him, slowly rolling the edge of his sleeve past the wound.

"Two days ago, I was… distracted."

You didn’t ask why, spooning a generous amount from the jar and gently spreading it on the burn. When you returned with a second you saw his nostrils flare, one eyebrow rising.

"Is that… honey?"

"It is an old cure," you shrugged, carefully covering the edges, "and one that has long stood the test of time." Picking up the bandages you motioned for him to hold his arm from the table. "Besides, it might help to make your disposition a bit sweeter."

Sweet Jesu had you really just said that?

A snort left him and he turned to more fully face you, eyes meeting yours. "I’m not certain you have enough for that."

"I shall have to save it for myself," you demurred, tucking the edge of the bandage under and patting it softly.

"Are you so bitter?"

"Not bitter," you laughed softly, once again gathering your supplies. "Only…"

This man was a stranger to you. And while you might like the look of his face and admire his fine thighs, he was not your confidante.

"Not bitter," you said again, more firmly this time. Wiping your hands you felt the small tug of the cloth against your finger and raised it to your lips without thinking, sucking the small bit of honey from your flesh. "Is there-"

His eyes were locked on your lips, on the hand still hovering near them. When had it gotten warm in your cottage? When had he stood up? Gotten so close? You had to lean back to look into his eyes, his chest was practically touching yours, a soft growl rumbling from deep within him. You felt an answering purr rise in your own - something soft in your reacting to his nearness.

Then he shook his head suddenly and stepped away. "Apologies, I did not mean to overstep."

Could he hear your heartbeat? You could. And the way he was looking at you…

"It is no matter," you waved a hand uselessly in the air. "We were finished unless there is something else I can help you with?"

"What is my debt?"

You waved a hand again, "For this? It is nothing."

"It is not nothing," he insisted. "Do not sell yourself so cheaply."

"I do not sell myself at all," you pointed out, carefully stepping away to place the honey back on its shelf. "People help me when they can, if you really must insist there is wood behind the house that could stand being chopped and brought in."

He nodded and strode out the door and you let out a breath. That had been far too close for comfort. If he hadn’t stepped away… would you have? You liked to think he would but the smell of salt and smoke that clung to his clothes made your head spin.

A loud noise cut through the air and you frowned, following his path outside and crossing your arms when you saw him.

"I didn’t mean now."

He shrugged and set up another log, swinging the ax high over his head and bringing it down with a solid thunk. "It is a task that needs doing, no?"

"It is," you waited for him to bring the ax down again before continuing, "but I certainly had no expectation you would do it right after being treated."

"It does not interfere," he pointed out.

"I will not treat it again," you scolded softly.

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth and you noticed he had a dimple on his right cheek. Why did he have to be so handsome?

"Perhaps if I find some honey you will be sweeter to me."

I am far too sweet for you already, you thought with a sigh, turning your head before he could see how flustered he made you.

Ignoring the fact that you had been headed to the forest before being sidetracked, you pulled your largest kettles into the clearing beside your home and began to set fires beneath them. The sound of chopping wood kept you company as you set the fine sticks of wood carefully under them and grabbed your bucket. You were halfway back from the stream when he caught you, taking the pail with a scolding murmur and taking two back with him. While he fetched the water you carefully minced herbs, dropping them into the water and striking stone to steel to create a fire beneath.

You spent the remainder of the morning tending the pots, carefully judging the smells, consistency, and colors of each. Illness always came with the spring, people being in too much of a hurry to enjoy the weather to take proper precautions, and you wanted to be ready.

At midday you tried to stop Pero, offering him a hunk of bread and cheese and pointing out the amount of wood he had chopped far exceeded to small amount of care you had given him. He’d grunted at that, taking the proffered food and shoving it in his mouth. Then he had pulled his shirt off and gone back to work, leaving you agape and trying not to stare.

He was too handsome for his own good.

It wasn’t fair of him and he knew it. But then again, what mattered was who won the war, not how honorably they fought.

He knew he was tempting her to sin with a married man. And he would feel worse about that if he was in fact married. But he wasn’t - and the way her breath hitched in her throat every time he stretched and moved made his lungs near burst with pride.

Swiping a hand across his chest he shook his head, feeling droplets of sweat spray from the hanging ends of his too-long hair. He’d been working in the sun for her for hours now, chopping what had to be a half cord of wood and stacking it neatly both inside and outside the cottage. No matter what he did she seemed to be nearby, finding tasks that kept him in her line of sight.

Could he tempt her down to the stream? There was a small, shallow pool there - barely as high as his waist. But if he could get her in it… no, she still was as fresh and clean as she had been this morning - keeping to the shade even as he sweat in the sun. Well, he always had a backup plan.

"You have another pail?"

Her head jerked up and she tilted her head to the side without seeming to think about it. He took the proffered object, heading to the river and bringing it the entire way back before dumping it over his head.

"Ah, that is better," he said, shaking his hair out.

She was staring again. Hands clenching and unclenching around the small paring knife. He took a careful step closer to her, watching the ways her eyes tracked his movements and her chest rose and fell in rapid breathing.

"Is there more I can do?"

A confused noise left her and he bit back a smile, moving closer until she tilted her head up to look at him.

"I see how you watch me." Her head shook in a frantic denial and he stopped her with a finger under her chin.

"I do not," she tried but he raised one eyebrow and she quickly silenced. A long moment stretched between them and her shoulders dropped. "I should not."

"No?" he asked, tilting his head. "And do you think I do not also watch you?"

Her lips parted and he took advantage, ducking his head and pressing his own to them. A soft noise left her and he swallowed it, gathering her into his arms and deepening the kiss. She made no protest, her hands clutching at his shoulders and her lips parting even further for him when he dipped his tongue inside.

Without thinking about it he backed her up until he had her pressed to the stones of her cottage, reaching down and hitching one of her thighs around his waist. She fit him perfectly, the hard planes of his body sinking instantly into the soft curves of hers.

"We can’t," she whispered.

"We must," he countered.

She tasted of herbs, rosemary she had chewed that morning and bits of things that clung to her skin after her day’s work. His hands gripped at her hips, her thigh, the dip of her waist and the curve of her ass. He couldn’t get enough of her.

But when she shoved at his shoulders he stepped away. He had never taken a woman unwillingly. Convinced, wheedled, paid - even once long ago had quite nearly begged - but never forced.

"You are married," she bit out, one hand pressing to her chest.

"An inconvenience," he told her truthfully. "We are together only in the eyes of man, not God."

Her eyebrows drew together, "What does that even mean?"

How could he explain and still keep his oath to William? He was treading a fine line already. "It means I have never lain with her. Nor do I plan to."

"I don’t understand," she shook her head and when he went to step closer she held her hand between them. "I do not understand you, Pero Tovar. Or this… whatever this is. But I will not give something that cannot be returned."

"And if it were?"

She closed her eyes, hand wavering, and he took his opportunity. Were this a battlefield he would have sliced her tendons at the knee and downed her from one heartbeat to the next. Instead, he pulled her into his arms again, dipping his head and nibbling at the soft column of her throat.

"Do you want me?"

"It is a sin," she sighed, but tilted her head to give him more access.

"Lying is a sin," he pointed out, scraping his teeth along the flesh she offered. "Do you?"

"I shouldn’t."

"Do you?"

Someone called her name and Pero swore, stepping away from her quickly and jerking his shirt from the ground. He would not see her shamed in the eyes of the village.

"We are not finished," he told her solemnly.

That man was a menace.

He continued to meet you on your walks into the woods - and even on the days you varied your routine he managed to find you at some point. Falling into step beside you and brushing your shoulder with his. Twice, when no one was around, he tried to tug you into shadowed corners. The glint in his eye giving away what he wanted.

You were only flesh.

Flesh that was weak where he was concerned. Arms wrapping fiercely around his neck even as you cursed yourself for it. You went willingly, allowing him a few stolen kisses before breaking away. He always asked the same question, "Do you want me?" and you always avoided it.

You dreaded to think what might happen if he knew it for certainty.

Even now, settled in his lap beneath the span of a large oak tree, his lips repeated the words into the tendons of your neck. But he said it as a statement, his hand slipping under your skirt and palming the skin of your thighs in rough strokes.

"You want me."

"It doesn’t matter what I want," you told him for perhaps the hundredth time.

He bit you and you yelped, pushing hard on his shoulders and glaring. He was glaring right back, his lower lip protruding in an uncharacteristic pout. You ignored it, climbing to your feet and swatting his hands away when he tried to pull you back down.

"You have to stop this."

"I do not wish to," he grumbled, leaning back on one hand and looking up at you from lowered lids. He looked positively pagan, sprawled among the early spring flowers like some sort of god.

"The weather is changing and with it the markets will begin again. I will find someone else."

He moved so fast you didn’t even see him, a blur of motion and he was in front of you, grasping your arms in a strong grip. "You are mine."

"I am not," you gritted out, trying to shrug him off to no avail. "What can you offer me except heartbreak?"

"I would offer you everything," he said quietly, ducking his head to force you to meet his eyes. They were earnest, soft and brown and it took all of your will not to sway to him.

"Everything but your hand."

"Even that," he cracked a small smile. "I have two."

"That’s not funny," you growled, finally moving away.

"I found it a small amusement," he huffed.

"Tovar…"

"Pero," he corrected.

"Tovar," you said more forcefully. "The spring festival is at the next full moon. I intend to make my intention known that I seek a husband."

A snarl curled his lips and you took an unconscious step back. One hand clenched at his side as though he might find a weapon there. "You will not."

"I will," you corrected. "And you should gather peonies for your wife."

"Peonies? I do not understand"

"You don’t… I suppose maybe it is not your custom." You bent and picked up your basket, "During the festival, couples will exchange the flowers - to show their love. At nightfall, all of the unmarried townsfolk will take to the woods hoping to find their own." A thought came over you and you waved a hand, trying not to look flustered, "Many return together."

He hummed thoughtfully, holding a hand out to you to help you step over a large tree root. "And I should gather these flowers for my love, yes?"

You nodded, swallowing past a knot of emotion. "I will not tell you this has not been… fun. But it is over now. It must be."

Humming again he guided you back to the path. "And you are certain that this is what you wish? You will find your husband during the festival?"

A small laugh escaped you and you shook your head. "I intend only to find the flowers, to make it known I wish to find someone."

"So there is no one else?" The answer fell from his lips with a more plaintive tone than he seemed to want, frowning to himself after he finished.

"How could there be?" You brushed past him, swinging your basket, "I already spend half my day in confession because of you."

A low growl caught in his throat and he grabbed you, pulling you back to his body and once again taking your lips. You let him, conscious that your time with him was drawing to a close. And besides, you were already going to have to confess that morning’s indiscretion - what was one more?

The setting sun bathed the village in warm glowing light, making the women look ethereal as they danced around the large pole in the village square - but Pero’s eyes sought only one. By his side, Lin Mae smiled and spoke with one of the local farmer’s wives - comparing the soil and harvest months. She had notes in that strange writing of hers, ideas for things she and William might grow when he returned from his journey.

"Does my husband grow bored of me so quickly?"

Pero blinked and glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow and scowling. She smiled in return, tucking a piece of jet black air behind her ear. "It is strange, the gossip, and how many women of the village want me to know your eyes have strayed."

"They should mind their own business," he grunted, finally spying who he wanted through the crowd. Her eyes shone in the firelight, the orange glow making the simple white shift she wore seem to come alive around her as she danced with several other women.

"They think they are protecting me," Lin Mae shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "They were properly disgusted at your behavior."

He grunted again, not bothering to give her words. The woman who held all of his attention was braiding flowers into another’s hair - fingers working quickly.

"I don’t suppose I could make you pretend that you are not pining for her this eve, could I?"

"Small chance," he said truthfully, sipping his drink and never taking his eyes off of her.

"They are getting ready for their ceremony," Lin Mae said, shifting her stance slightly. "Perhaps I am growing too tired to stay out."

Frowning, Pero glanced down at the former Commander of the Crane Troop. "Are you well?"

"Perhaps my husband should take me home, so we may both retire for the evening. That way, if he disappeared into the woods later no one would note it."

He finally turned his full attention to her, "You are a brilliant woman, much smarter than your husband."

She winked and he held an arm out, studiously avoiding looking back at the revelers as he led her away from the fires. They returned the shouted greetings from a few people and he held the door to their shared quarters for her when they arrived.

"Is there anything-"

"Go, Pero Tovar," Lin Mae smiled, settling by the fire and patting a hand over her stomach. "I will be fine for the evening."

He did not need to be told twice, going out the back door and circling around the forest to watch the festival. An old man stood by the fire, hands held high in the air and saying something he couldn’t hear. Near him, two groups of men and women giggled and chatted amongst themselves. Blushing and elbowing as they looked towards the other group.

The man’s hands came down and the women sprinted into the forest, although Pero noticed many did not seem to be in a particular hurry. He slipped into the forest behind them easily, padding on soft feet and slinking through the trees like a wraith. He found his quarry easily, her lilting laugh all he needed to zero in on her. With casual competence he brought down two men who sought to follow her, leaving them in slumped piles to be found in the morning. Soon she had outpaced the other maidens, either through swiftness of foot or perhaps their own desire to be caught. It didn’t matter to Pero.

Moonlight bathed the glen in pale light and he slowed to a careful stop. He had arrived before her and he did not pause before plucking several of the prizes before ducking behind the old oak tree and watching for her. It was not long before she entered, laughing to herself and throwing her head back to stare at the moon before dropping to her knees. The beautiful petals of the flowers were almost black in the silvery light, her hands cupping them as though they were the most precious thing. But that could not be right, because she was there and there could be nothing more precious.

He watched as she carefully picked three of the blossoms, cradling them tightly before rising to her feet and turning back to the forest. Back towards him. He could no more have plucked the moon from the sky than he could have stopped himself from reaching out. Catching her wrist in one hand, pulling her back to his chest and dropping his other to press low on her stomach. She gasped in shock and he nuzzled his face into her neck, nipping at her earlobe with his teeth.

"Careful, one might think you wished to be caught."

The tenseness flowed from her and her body melted back against him. He groaned with it, crossing his arm over her chest and feeling the petals in her fingers crush under their combined grip. Slowly, he released his own hand, letting the flowers he had gathered fall and mix with hers.

"I have done what you said, I have gathered these for my love."

"Pero…"

His body lurched at the sound of his name on her lips. Sucking a bruising kiss to her neck he tried to turn her, growling when she resisted. Instead he let her wrist go to grip her chin, jerking her face towards him and thrusting his tongue past her lips. He met no resistance there, the soft give and take of her mouth and the low moan in her throat enough to set his blood thrumming through his veins. Her fingertips gripped his forearms and he tightened his hold.

"Lay with me," he groaned, dragging his lips across her cheek, dipping his tongue behind her ear. "Let me make you mine."

A shudder wracked her frame and he paused, this time meeting no hesitancy when he spun her to face him. "What is it?

"You will always belong to another," she whispered quietly, pain tinging her voice. With the greatest care he cupped her jaw in one of his palms, brushing his thumb over the apple of her cheek.

"I belong to no one," he told her, willing her to look into his eyes. "Except perhaps to you."

Another shaky breath and her eyes squeezed closed. "Tovar-"

"Pero," he corrected quickly, pressing his lips to the lip of her nose. "If you are to hold my heart you must call me by my given name."

"How can you say these things?" she chided softly.

He should tell her, should have from the start. Tell her that in the eye of the Lord he was free, that the only sin between them was lust. But she would not believe him. Hell, he wouldn’t believe him. Not here, not like this. Not knowing the things a man might say to have a woman in his arms.

"All I can ask is that you trust me," he whispered. Stooping down he plucked one of the round flowers into his hands, holding it out to her in his cupped palm. He waited, holding his breath until she took it with shaking fingers.

"And when we are damned?"

"Then we will burn together."

This time when their mouths met he felt no hesitancy, her arms coming up and fingers threading through the hairs on the back of his neck. He shuddered in her embrace, pulling her close and falling to his knees on the soft mossy ground. His hands shoved at the cloth of her skirt, pushing it upwards as she sank into his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. The moon behind her cast her in a soft, silvery aura and he paused to admire her beauty.

With careful fingers he slipped the sleeves of her dress from her shoulders, watching them fall until the shift caught in the crook of her elbows and on the swells of her breast. From her position above him it was an easy thing to lean forward and catch it with his teeth, pulling downwards and exposing her soft flesh inch by inch. He heard the hitch in her breath when her pebbled nipples were bared to the cool night air. And he felt the way her body trembled when he curled his tongue around the hardened nub and sucked it deep into his mouth.

His name fell like a prayer between them and even if he were what she thought he was - there was no world in which this was a sin. No world in which holding the trembling figure in his arms was anything less than worship.

"Pero," she cried again, her hips rocking in his lap and his control snapped. He reached between their bodies, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers.

"You know the herbs?" he asked, breathless and frantic.

She nodded, hands working between them as well. Groaning he shoved her fingers to the side, lining his cock up and sinking the head of himself into her. "You will tell me if it is too much?"

"Pero please," she begged and he lost himself, plunging forward until he was seated fully inside her. Her heat made him go cross-eyed, and the small cry that broke from her lips made him cup her face in his hands in worry.

"Are you-?"

She lunged towards him, pressing him back down to the moss. They tumbled for a moment, legs tangling, her hips rocking into his. A deep curse left his lips and he steadied her with hands on her waist, looking up in awe as she rose to her knees over him, one hand pressed firmly to his chest and the other his waist.

"Fuck," he snarled, unable to take his eyes off of her. The white of her shift shone ethereal in the moonlight. This could not be a sin, for surely she was an angel sent down to redeem him. Her muscles bore down and he cursed again. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she had been sent to damn him.

"Pero," she sighed, reaching for one of his hands and tangling their fingers together. "Please."

This he could do for her. Slip his hand beneath her skirt and find where they joined, rub his fingers in wide circles through her slick until she threw her head back and came around his cock. It was all he needed to follow, clutching her skin so hard he knew he’d leave bruises before hauling her down and into his arms.

Confession was going to be interesting this week.

Measuring the pennyroyal carefully, you added it to the other ingredients of the tea you were making. You had made it many times in the past for other women - but only once for yourself.

Then again, last night had been only the second time you’d ever lain with a man. The look in Pero’s eyes told you it was well on its way to also being the third and perhaps fourth before you were interrupted by a small group of giggling girls, barely old enough to participate in the festival, bursting into the clearing and exclaiming at the sight of the flowers. It had been almost gentlemanly, the way he had tried to shield you from their notice. But all it took was standing up for your clothes to be set to rights - he had to fix both his shirt and the fall of his trousers.

Plenty of time for you to escape and join them.

It had been a mistake. A massive, soul-damning mistake. Adulteresses did not get to go to heaven. There was literally a whole commandment devoted to it - right between killing and stealing. That’s how important it was.

You’d be saying Hail Mary’s until you were old and gray to atone for this.

Sighing you wrapped your hands around your mug, taking the first sip and opening your front door to let in the morning air. The sight that met you froze you in your tracks however. Pero and his wife were arguing. Shame overcame you and you turned away before they could see you - but you couldn’t help but overhear their voices carrying.

"I am not fragile, Tovar, and will not have you treat me as such."

"I know as well as any man that you are as tough as forged iron." A strange way to talk to his wife, but then again he had been telling you for weeks theirs was a strange marriage.

"Then get out of my way."

"I will not have you harm the babe!"

The world stopped and you gasped, watching the mug tumble from your fingers, the dark liquid spilling across the dirt. Your head jerked up and Pero met your eyes.

Of course that’s why he asked if you knew how to not conceive.

"Cariño…" his soft voice floated across the field and you stooped down quickly to pick up your mug. You would need to rebrew it - be sure you had taken enough. You were absolutely not going to have that man’s child.

Your pot had just started boiling when he stepped through your doorway. "It is not what you think."

"What I think?" Your voice had an edge of hysteria and you fought to keep calm. "What I think is that you left your pregnant wife at home to seduce me last night. Am I wrong?"

"I told you I have never lain with her."

You blinked, jerking backwards. The world seemed to come to a standstill. After a moment a strangled laugh left you. "Your wife sinned with another - so you sought to do the same?"

"It is not a sin," he growled, coming around your worktable in long strides. "This - you… it is not."

Saints above he was kissing you again, and as angry as you were your body betrayed you immediately. Sinking into his warmth and burying your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. With an ease that left you breathless he lifted you onto your table, shoving your skirts to your waist. The hard ridges of his body pressed between your thighs and you gasped.

"It is not a sin, cariño. To want an angel?" His hips rolled and you arched into his chest. "To take a piece of heaven for myself?"

"It is one of the first," you corrected him, gasping for breath and speaking the words directly into his mouth. "Is it not why Lucifer fell?"

"Fuck Lucifer," he growled in return, clutching your body closer. "He wanted power. I want only you."

Why, why did he have to say things like that? "Pero…"

"Say it again," he groaned, fingers working the fall of his trousers. "Say it while I am inside you."

You should protest. You absolutely should not be letting him swive you after everything else that you now knew. But he fit you so perfectly, and looked at you with such wonder in his eyes you couldn’t help it.

"Pero."

The words that left him were in a language you didn’t understand. Falling from his lips like a psalm and for just that moment you let yourself believe him.

And when he slipped into your cottage that night, wrapping you in his arms and pressing your hand over his heart - you let yourself imagine a world where he was yours.

Pero’s shoulder brushed hers as they walked through the village. He wanted to wrap an arm around her waist, hold her close against the morning chill - but he knew that was impossible.

It had been amusing, at first, sneaking away into the forest. Going to her cottage in the middle of the night and having his way with her. And she with him. Once she was in his arms she showed a remarkable imagination and flexibility that often left him breathless in the aftermath.

But the secrecy was quickly growing old. He wanted to kiss her. Her eyes were bright and her skirts whipped around her legs as they walked into the wind, reminding him of how they felt wrapped around him only hours ago.

A leaf caught in her hair and he reached up with a smile, plucking it from the strands and touching it to the tip of her nose with a playful tap. She grinned in return and he felt his heart swell in his chest.

"It is shameful how they carry on."

Pero froze, his jaw tightening. For a moment he hoped she hadn’t heard.

"He’s a foreigner, probably an infidel, but she should know better."

Oh she’d definitely heard, her eyes widening as she took a step away from him.

"Cariño," he said softly, willing her to look at him. The leaf dropped from his fingers and he reached for her. But she was shaking her head frantically, her hands gripping her basket so hard he worried she would snap it.

"There always was something unnatural about her."

Pero’s vision went red and he turned, ready to confront the two gossiping women. Or kill them. He wasn’t sure which. They balked at the look on his face and he took a threatening step their direction before a hand on his elbow stopped him. Scowling, he looked down at her.

"They do not know what they say," he told her, trying to keep his voice level.

"They know exactly what they say," she corrected quietly, "and none of it is untrue."

The truth lay thick in Pero’s throat, the chance to say it long passed. William was not supposed to have been gone this long. Should have only been a fortnight behind them. Instead it had been nearly two months and Pero was beginning to grow worried something had happened to his friend.

"They question your honor."

"I know what I am," she said softly. "I know what I chose when I chose you."

Something lodged in the back of Pero’s throat. He had fought for everything, every chance he’d ever had. Even William and he had ended up together only by chance, joining the same merchant trip to the East. He had trained harder than anyone else, stolen what couldn’t be achieved, and paid coin for another’s favors. But no one had ever chosen him for him.

"Cariño," he took a step towards her and she stepped away.

"Not out here, I don’t want to give them more to talk about."

"Let them talk," he grunted, pulling her into his arms and tilting her face up to his with one finger. "I choose you as well."

"A second choice," she whispered and Pero’s blood thrummed through his veins.

"First," he corrected. "First and always."

"How can I be? You’re-"

He cut her off with a kiss, not caring who saw. Not caring the way it would look to others. She was his and he would claim her for all to see it. And he could not hear her say that word again, could not hear her denial of what he felt.

"Trust me," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "That is all I can ask."

"With everything," she murmured back. Her spine was straight when she stepped out of his arms, ignoring the hushed mutterings that followed her as she left to the forest and he turned to the smithy. He contemplated scaring the women within an inch of their lives, his size and face more than enough, but it would only cause more problems.

The days were growing warmer and soon enough Pero had sweated through his shirt, tossing it to the side and covering himself only with his leather apron as he worked the metal. A few rings of his armor melted down, the most precious thing he had, now being reworked into a far different purpose.

"You can’t even pretend to make friends can you?"

Pero froze, closing his eyes a moment before turning.

"Tu hijo de puta."

William held his hands up, brows drawing together. "What did I do?"

"A couple of weeks, you said." Pero carefully set his finer tools down, reaching for one of his larger hammers as he approached his friend. "No time at all."

"Things were more complicated than-"

William dodged Pero’s casual swing, but dove straight into the man’s fist.

"That is for taking so long," Pero grunted, setting the tool to the side and shaking out his fingers. "Your head is as hard as ever."

Rubbing his cheek, William blinked at him. "Has Lin Mae been that difficult?"

"It is not…" Pero sighed, picking up his shirt. "Come, I will tell you on the way."

You took a different path through the forest than usual. You didn’t want Pero following you, although you knew he could easily track you if he wanted to. You need time to think, to come to terms with what you were doing.

It had been too much to hope, that no one would notice. It was a miracle that you had avoided the gossip as long as you had. And there would be no denying it, not after that kiss.

Your fingers touched your bottom lip for a moment and you sighed. Pero was a passionate man, and yet you had never seen him touch his wife the way he touched you. It heartened you, although it shouldn’t, that maybe he did feel more for you than he did her.

"Ave, María, grátia plena," you said quietly, stooping to pluck an herb. "Dóminus tecum."

No harm in getting in a few prayers before confession - you were bound to be given another dozen at a minimum for what had happened today.

At your cottage you set about preserving your stores. The rainy season would cause many things to rot if you did not dry them carefully now, hanging them from the rafters in bundles. You hummed as you worked, trying to ignore the events of the morning. There was nothing that could be done about it now.

A knock jerked you out of your thoughts and you glanced towards the window to check the time. It was early afternoon, and you were not expecting anyone. Certainly not the sight that greeted you when you opened the door.

"Pero?"

The man was standing there, arms overflowing with peonies of every color. He must have taken the entire field’s worth.

"Cariño," he said softly. "Quiéreme."

You gasped, covering your mouth with one hand. "What?"

"Love me," he repeated, offering the cascading bundle of flowers in his arm to you. There were so many that some fell to the ground as he moved, littering around your feet.

"I do," you smiled, a small wane thing. "You know I do."

"Marry me." You gasped and he dropped the blooms finally, not seeming to care as he crushed them and gathered you close. "Marry me, today. As soon as we are able."

"But you’re-"

"Do not say it," he growled, dipping his head and kissing you. "I will not hear you say it again. William."

William?

A cough interrupted your thought and you glanced over Pero’s shoulder to see a blonde man with his arm around Pero’s wife.

"I believe this is my fault," he said, nuzzling his nose into the woman’s hair and you noticed a bruise forming around one of his eyes. "This lovely woman is not Tovar’s wife, she is mine."

"What?" The word left you on a whisper, your mind unable to comprehend.

"I am not wed." Pero said it this time, tilting your head back so you looked into his eyes. "I never have been."

"Why did you-"

"Me again," the blonde called out. "Pero promised to look after her for me. This wasn’t exactly what I thought would happen but…" The woman at his side elbowed him and he gave you a sheepish smile.

"You are not married?"

"No."

"Then we…?"

"Have not sinned."

A giggle bubbled out of you and you smiled up at him. "I believe we have sinned many times."

His answering smile was dazzling. "A small thing, and one that can be absolved when you are my wife."

"Your wife?"

"Now," he punctuated the word with a kiss. "As soon as we can find the damned priest."

"Your friend is injured," you pointed out.

"No more than he deserves," Pero griped.

"And the banns have not been read."

"I do not care if another seeks your hand, you are mine." He suddenly looked unsure. "Unless you do not want-"

You threw your arms around his neck, hugging him close. "I have two hands, Pero Tovar, and neither are claimed."

"I will take them both," he told you solemnly. "And make you mine."

"As you are mine."

Taglist:

@pascals-cat, @hotspacepilots , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @amneris21 , @writeforfandoms , @yaachtynoboat711 , @Pedrohoe04 , @gingersnappe-9 , @carbonated-beverage , @salome-c , @dihra-vesa , @artsymaddie , @withakindheartx , @punkerthanpascal , @evildxad , @sunfairyy, @nabootycall , @ohhersheybars, @Silverwolf319, @hdghty, @pasckles, @bestattempt, @Stevie75, @xxxroxsxxx, @petersunderoos96, @mssarahpaulsooonn, @sherala007, @jitterbugs927,@spacedadmando, @eternallyvenus, @frietiemeloen, @adalanta, @librariantothejedi, @i-neverasktwice, @selfishpresley, @moonlightburned, @frenchyjuju, @yllwtaxi, @jedi-mando , @heartofjakku, @seececerun, @ludditereformed, @thirdtimesthecharm, @javierpinme, @kesskirata, @mamacitapascal, @supernaturalgirl20, @thirstworldproblemss, @bestattempt, @greeneyedblondie44, @daddymando69, @martellthemandalor, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @flower98child, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @sarasapen, @the-finalfrontiier, @janebby, @mstgsmy, @sleep-tight1, @lostinwonderland314, @Stevie75, @astoryisaloveaffair, @jasterslegacy, @practicalghost, @one-hell-of-a-disappointment, @giselatropicana, @taticalsparkles, @tobealostwanderer, @huitzilinthebudgie3, @beesting77, @omlwhatamidoinghere , @andyl394, @aesnawan, @1950schick, @fic-appointment, @dolly-on-the-dotted-line, @paperbag33, @pinkninja200, @sarhabee, @chaoticgreen, @kirsteng42, @mishasminion360 , @giselatropicana , @letsfly-andbe-free, @miraclesabound, @quicksilvermad , @prettlilhalforc , @rosechvnel , @masnuelle , @xocalliexo , @alm0501 , @recklessfangirl-blog , @blueeyesatnight , @uncle-kenobi , @gooddaykate , @omlwhatamidoinghere , @dindjxrinslover , @pjkimrn , @thesundrop , @radiowallet , @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage , @recklessfangirl-blog , @the-feckless-wonder , @linkpk88 , @litakino , @disasterhann , @solemnlyswearss , @pjkimrn , @xxxroxsxxx , @justreadingthings , @sherala007 , @fan-of-encouragement , @jeeperky , @pjkimrn, @writefightandflightclub, @frankiemoraleawifexo, @leelee2890, @pedrosbrat,@ssppoorrkk, @sia2raw, @severewobblerlightdragon, @mishasminion360, @artsymaddie, @janebby, @pjkimrn, @miraclesabound, @booksarekindaneat, @tanzthompson , @terecord, @tanzthompson, @thesoftdumbass, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @bellaisasleep, @vaguely-here-wish-i-was-not, @sixshooter665, @showbuckysomelove, @bethany-bee0128, @tenderwhat, @sherala007, @girlwholoveswords, @pjkimrn, @reader-without-a-story, @graphitegator, @mylittlesenaar, @eri16, @dinsangelx, @absurdthirst, @sherala007, @girlwholoveswords, @pjkimrn, @reader-without-a-story, @graphitegator, @mylittlesenaar, @dinsangelx, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @hogwarts-is-home, @wizardofrozz, @felicisimor, @littlekittymeow, @lyr1ssa, @rose-bliss, @mrsstevenbuchananstark, @lyly00, @kirsteng42, @ionaboner, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @echoskama, @mac-and-chees21, @withmyteeth, @thesandbeneathmytoes, @stardust-galaxies, @girlofchaos, @mstgsmy, @susanabassi, @susie1234, @alexxavicry, @harriedandharassed, @nessamc, @elegantduckturtle, @thelion-sroar, @mswarriorbabe80, @artsymaddie, @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog, @jupiterfics, @princessxkenobi, @thesmutslut, @ruhro7, @tentacruels, @toxicfrankenstein, @jediknight122, @whoreforthemandalor, @iamskyereads, @elegantduckturtle, @mariwinns16, @the-blind-assassin-12, @curiouskeyboard, @totallynotastanacc, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @mandoblowmybackout, @toxicfrankenstein, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @karlawithacapitalk, @cannedsoupsucks, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @what-iwish-you-knew

#pero tovar #great wall fanfiction #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero x reader #pero x you

674 notes · View notes

goodqueenaly · 9 months

Note

Do you think there was any truth to the daemon blackfyre and Daenerys were in love story? I honestly would think not except for the so spake Martin where grrm said they were in love

Do I think it's possible that Daemon and/or Daenerys may have been interested, and indeed perhaps mutually interested, in one another? Sure. We know virtually nothing about Daenerys with respect to either her personality or her appearance, but it certainly might have been the case that Daemon found her attractive - by her own merits, because he saw himself as having the right to a Targaryen royal bride (as perhaps Prince Aerion may have a generation later), a combination of these or some other reason, who knows. Likewise, just as I think Daenerys' nephews (who were of an age with Daenerys herself, of course) may have gotten along reasonably well with Daemon in the years prior to the First Blackfyre Rebellion, so I think it is at least possible Daenerys found herself romantically inclined toward Daemon, a handsome, charming, very martially talented knight of her own age and a familiar presence at the Targaryen court (especially, perhaps, compared to her brother's faraway, "foreign" brother-in-law, who may or may not have been close to her in age). So I would say it's certainly in the realm of possibility that either or both these two young people felt some level of romance for one another. (That obviously doesn't mean that their feelings never changed either: it's always worth keeping in mind that Daemon was a husband and the father of at least nine children when he died, while Daenerys was herself a wife and the mother of an unknown number of children by Prince Maron.)

Do I think it is just as possible, and not mutually exclusive with the above, that pro-Blackfyre propagandists as well as future storytellers and singers seized upon and made much of the Daemon-Daenerys relationship, including some degree of exaggeration and romanticization? Absolutely. Yandel himself notes when discussing the lack of evidentiary support for the proposed love affair, stating that "[i]n the years afterward [i.e. after the First Blackfyre Rebellion], Daenerys was never aught but a loyal wife to Prince Maron, and if she mourned Daemon Blackfyre, she left no record of it". We as readers are in turn are reliant on (as yet unknown) contemporary accounts and later interpretations of events to understand Daemon's and Daenerys' personal feelings, without the benefit of being able to separate the story from the (fictional) reality.

So for pro-Blackfyre propagandists, the idea of a doomed love affair between Daenerys and Daemon may have aided in their characterization of both Daeron II and Daemon: "Daeron Falseborn" was so wicked, the story might have gone, that he would personally deny the happiness of both his half-brother and his sister and so damnably xenophilic that he would prefer to sell his only sister to the Dornish; Daemon, for his part, might then have had no choice (again, according to this propaganda) but to stop the pro-Martell terror of King Daeron, for his own sake and that of the kingdom. (Yandel indeed even hints at the political advantage of such stories, noting that "some of Blackfyre's partisans later claimed" that Aegon IV had promised Daemon that he, Daemon, could take two wives.) Singers and storytellers, for their part, may have seen such a relationship, to whatever extent it actually existed, as too fertile ground to ignore for creative inspiration. How perfectly tragic it might have seemed for these creators, the daughter of a queen who was herself supposedly the subject of a doomed love affair (even though I doubt that was really the case), pining for the dashing royal rebel who longer for her in turn, the anguish of the hearts turning into a massive national civil war where they would be forced to opposite sides.

Do I think that, as Barristan Selmy remembers the story, "Daemon Blackfyre loved the first Daenerys, and rose in rebellion when denied her"? Probably not, at least to that level of simplicity. Whatever personal feelings Daemon may have had toward Daenerys, and/or she toward him, the First Blackfyre Rebellion was a conflict whose origins had been simmering for years prior to its official start in 196 AC. From the moment of the aggressively pro-war Daeron I's assassination and the accession of the aggressively pro-peace Baelor, the parameters of political divide among Westerosi power players had been set. Aegon IV and Daeron II had only hardened that factionalization of the kingdom: father and son had come to embody the division of attitudes toward Dorne, with Aegon IV extending his personal hatred and pettiness toward Daeron to politico-military actions against both Daeron and his Dornish allies, while Daeron's personal familial relationship with the ruling family of Dorne extended to greater political patronage toward the Martells and Dornish more generally, culminating in the nuptial peace with Prince Maron. These divides had existed and been developing before Daemon Blackfyre was born, and while I am certainly not absolving Daemon of any agency when it comes to the First Blackfyre Rebellion, I don't think the war can simply be boiled down to an unfulfilled romantic affair.

Do I think GRRM will simply leave the matter at that SSM from back in 2012, where he noted that "[d]espite Daemon and Daenerys being in love, her brother the king, Daeron the Good, was more concerned with matters of state than matters of love"? Probably not. GRRM is a storyteller himself, after all, and I would be very surprised if he didn't take the opportunity to explore the potential romance between Daenerys and Daemon. Fire and Blood Volume 2 will undoubtedly provide more details regarding this period, and while that story is obviously not a traditional novel/novella-style narrative that allows for a lot of character interiority, it's very possible we'll get more third-party observer accounts about the relationship between Daenerys and Daemon from this period.

#asoiaf meta #daenerys daughter of aegon #daemon blackfyre

63 notes · View notes

darcydarlingdabbles · 3 months

Text

Jazz and Jen

Human Hotel Trip ~ Part 5~ 3k

Hazbin Hotel ₊⁺⋆ Charlastor ₊⁺⋆ Eventually Explicit

Part 1 ⚜️Part 2 ⚜️ Part 3 ⚜️ Part 4 ⚜️ Part 5 ⚜️ Part 6 ⚜️ Finale

// Charlie comes to Alastor's rescue when he's captured by a Cougar, and then drags him onto the floor for a dance neither of them will ever forget.//

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

Alastor sat at the hotel bar, nursing a whiskey neat as he reveled in the discordant tones assaulting his ears.

A bastardized jazz cover of a current pop song mocked him from the hotel’s ballroom, where the ‘Roaring Twenties Bash’ was in full swing. The disguised demon grimaced. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass before taking another sip, letting the whiskey burn pleasantly.

Outside of the bar and across the short hall, a change in tempo meandered through the double doors—and another abomination came to Alastor’s ears, pulling at the edges of his smile.

Damnable human body made everything just that much more difficult to control.

His fingers tapped his irritation against the polished wood of the bar. Even so, Alastor refused to return to their hotel room, though he knew Charlie was not there.

She’d gone to the dance, he was sure of it. Which was probably why he hovered in the empty bar across the hall. Alastor had seen a makeup bag open on the bathroom counter and found a shopping bag that must have contained a dress, and he couldn’t help but wonder.

Picturing Charlie dolled up like a woman in his time was, more than intriguing—though reality quickly shattered the fantasy. His mind turned to the unshed tears in her golden eyes under the relentless afternoon sun and in the humid Louisiana air the last time he’d seen her.

Alastor was not familiar with the pang echoing in his chest.

“Perhaps this auditory torture is a fitting punishment, after all.” He murmured to the rim of his glass.

When he named the feeling, Alastor chastised himself for even a modicum of guilt.

He’d only told Charlie the truth. The damn girl just wore her bleeding heart on her sleeve—every joy, every sorrow, every fleeting feeling showed on her face. It put her weaknesses on a marquee for anyone to see.

It was as endearing as it was naïve, and he had crushed her, with a carefully crafted smile on his face.

Alastor’s fingers cinched around his glass, wondering if he could shatter it in this human form, and if he would bleed. What it would be like to see scarlet seeping between his tawny fingers again?

The Radio Demon did not apologize. He did not regret. And he was heartless.

So why did hurting Charlie make him feel so hollow?

Alastor swallowed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, his mind made up. He had to find the Princess and smooth things over—for purely strategic purposes; he had to remain in her good graces.

Just as he was about to straighten his vest and leave, someone slid onto the bar stool beside him. The spark of hope at the flash of blonde hair drowned instantly, when her cloying perfume violated his senses. Alastor turned to see a human woman, gracelessly aging into her fifties, leaning towards him.

“Well, hello there, handsome,” she purred, bluntly sizing him up. “I’m Jennifer. Can I buy you a drink?”

Alastor’s smile narrowed on instinct, wondering what this foolish mortal was playing at. “I beg your pardon, Ma’am. But I was just leaving—”

Jennifer laughed, her manicured hand coming like a claw to grip his arm. Alastor had to resist the urge to recoil as his skin crawled. “ The night’s still young, and you and I should get to know each other better.”

Radio silence blanket the demon’s thoughts.

Was this woman, flirting with him? And why? Some sort of artless joke? He might suspect Angel Dust or even Vox of putting her up to it, if they weren’t realms away.

Jennifer used his stunned silence to pull Alastor back onto his bar stool, not noticing the way his fists clenched at the audacity of her still touching him.

“I’m…flattered.” Alastor said, his tone undercutting his words, “but I’m afraid I have a prior engagement with—”

“Oh, don’t be shy,” Jennifer interrupted him, leaning closer to him. “You don’t come to a bar in that shade of red without looking for attention. It’s so…devilish.”

“Madam,” Alastor’s teeth grit behind his smile, his eyes flashing an infernal red behind his spectacles. “You have no idea what you’re playing with.”

Though, to the demon’s surprise and unmitigated horror, his threat only made the stranger lean in closer—and touch his arm again. “I like the sound of that.”

Alastor’s irritation crackled off of him. Static sizzled from hidden speakers around the bar. He had to extricate himself without causing a scene. He’d promised Charlie no harm would come to humans on this trip, but his patience was wearing thin.

He couldn’t threaten if his target wasn’t afraid of him.

“Surely, a woman of your…” Alastor plucked her hand from his forearm and dropped it on to the bar top. “ Experience…could find more suitable company.”

“Oh, I think you’ll do just fine, sugar.”

Alastor suppressed a groan, suddenly realizing how much intelligence it required to realize you were being insulted. He had no option but to escape.

“Well, terribly sorry, but I really must be off.” He stood abruptly, his stool scraping against the floor in his haste to leave.

Jennifer’s eyes lit up. “Why don’t I join you?”

Over his dead body.

“That won’t be necessary.” The Radio Demon’s perpetual smile tightened.

“Your room or mine?” Jennifer purred as she too got to her feet.

Alastor’s eyes widened, interference squealing from him as he stepped back. This was not what he intended in the slightest. And now it wasn’t annoyance but dismay straining his hold on human form.

If she touched him again, he would snap and break another promise to—

“There you are Al!”

“Charlie,” Alastor sighed her name like an answer to his prayers.

Alastor turned towards her voice, already reaching to pull her towards him—and a lesser man might have let his jaw drop to the floor. Because Charlie was dressed to the nines. Her blonde hair was styled in perfect finger waves and layered pearls dripped from her throat.

“And who is this chick?” Jennifer asked from behind him.

Alastor's instant fury sounded like a needle scratching across a record. He knew an an affront when he heard it, but the Princess stepped past him and offered her hand to the human woman.

“Hi, I’m Charlie.” She offered politely, as Jennifer gave the other blonde a far harsher glance over. “I’m Alastor’s fri—”

“Girlfriend.” The demon seized the opportunity and Charlie by the shoulders, pulling her back against him and out of Jennifer’s clutches. “And date, to the dance tonight.”

He could feel Charlie’s surprise as he ignored the intensity of her warm skin under his fingers.

“Oh?” She turned, catching his eye. And he felt his own throat tighten, pleading that she would have mercy on him and play along. “Honey, I thought you didn’t want to go to the dance?”

Alastor felt his eye twitch at Charlie’s sly smile as he leaned down to emphasize his point. “Since when have I turned down the opportunity to dance with you, my darling?”

Jennifer might just be turning green right in front of them.

“I thought you wouldn’t be caught dead at. What was you said? A feeble mockery of the glamor of a bygone era?”

Alastor had to hand it to her. That did sound like him. He had no idea she’d been listening to his rants.

“Well, I’ve had a change of heart. Shall we?” He pulled Charlie’s arm into his to steer her away from the bar.

“Fine.” Jennifer’s face fell in an ugly way, though she still shot Alastor a smile. “I’ll be around, if you change your mind.”

Alastor clenched his teeth. “I assure you, I won’t.”

“Come on sweetie, let’s go cut a rug!” Charlie beamed, dragging him towards the ballroom.

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

It was crowded, loud, and flashy. Attention had been put into the atmosphere, with candlelight and warm yellow string lights to make it look like the shell of a jazz club he used to haunt. And that was nothing compared to how the music was already making Alastor cringe.

Charlie caught him and pulled him right onto the dance floor with her.

“Oh, no you don’t. You owe your fake girlfriend a real dance.” She propped her arm up on his shoulder, her tiny hand never releasing his fingers. “I didn’t get all dressed up not to dance.”

“Is that so?” Alastor pushed Charlie back, lifting their linked hands, so the blonde gave a little spin.

In a sea of swaying fringe and feather boas, Charlie’s dress was elegant and understated. It was a black crepe romaine gown with a touch of dark sequins that glittered as she moved.

When Alastor’s gaze fell to her sheer stockings, he pulled her back to him, so he couldn’t stare.

“I’ve seen worse.” Alastor said simply, glancing sideways as a dancer waved her feathered fan dramatically around the dance floor.

“I’ll take that.” Charlie beamed. “Besides, you can’t avoid me if we’re dancing, can you?”

“And why, pray tell, would I be avoiding you?” Alastor’s eyes narrowed as they turned in loose circles to a song he didn’t recognize. But he wasn’t paying attention to anything other than the petite body in his arms.

He already knew. That unfamiliar twinge of guilt, twisting in his chest. And he wondered, if she knew.

Charlie turned a mischievous smile up at Alastor. “You know, Al,” her golden eyes glinted. “You still owe me an apology.”

A harsh squeal of feedback pierced the air, causing a few human dancers to wince, but the demon didn’t let his steps falter. Alastor’s lips pulled back over his teeth, flickering between amusement and annoyance.

“I do hate to disappoint, Princess.” He purred, his voice smooth as could be despite the static.

He spun Charlie gracefully—but this time pulled her back against his chest—trying to distract her, and get his lips to her ear.

“I do not apologize. It’s simply not in my nature.”

To his eternal surprise, he heard Charlie laugh.

“Oh, really?” the blonde stepped forward, creating a space between them that the demon instantly despised. He righted his face as she turned. “If that’s the case, I’m sure Jennifer would be more than happy to take my place.”

Alastor’s lanky frame gave a violent shudder. Without hesitation, he pulled Charlie back flush against his chest, his grip tightening around her waist possessively.

“I am rather, particular, about who I dance with, Charlie.” He kept his voice low, fighting to keep the smile on his face. “And I’ve no desire to find another partner.”

She stilled in his hold, almost falling out of step—and Alastor realized what he’d said. How Charlie, who read too much into absolutely everything, just might interpret that.

Worse, she might just be right.

“My, my, Charlie,” In an instant, Alastor pulled the smiling mask back over his face, and tugged Charlie back to him. “I do believe you’ve forgotten something rather important.” He crooned to her, watching her guard drop.

Just so he could spin her out across the floor, then pull her back with a flourish.

Charlie’s delighted giggle was the best music to meet Alastor’s ears that night. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“That I am, quite simply,” Alastor’s grin widened as his hand slipped down to the small of her back—before he dipped her low. “The best dancer in all of Hell.”

“Is that so?” Charlie laughed breathlessly and flushed a pretty pink, as her hand came to rest on his vest.

“It is.” Alastor pulled her up, swiftly, twirling her again before drawing her back into step with the up tempo beat. “And I’d be happy to show you.”

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

Dancing with Charlie was easy as breathing. And, with Alastor’s skill, it was easy to keep her from talking.

But, the slow song always had to come.

And Charlie’s arms found their way around Alastor’s neck, just as his hands rested on her waist, naturally as could be. Being in tight proximity to anyone else would make his skin crawl—but he’d never minded being this close to her.

“You know, Al.” Charlie said, so soft only Alastor could hear. “This doesn’t mean that I forgot about that apology you owe me.”

Alastor sucked air through his teeth like a sour lemon, but there wasn’t anywhere else to look with her arms around him.

The demon took a breath before deciding on a new…and entirely unfamiliar tactic. To get back into the Princess’s good graces, he needed to be just a little softer. He could even be sweet—or pretend to be.

“My dear,” he chose his words as deliberately as he could.

“I admit I could have been more... tactful in our earlier conversation. However,” his voice took on a firmer tone, “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“You called me thick-headed and a fool, Alastor.” Charlie scowled.

Alastor winced visibly this time, his perpetual grin faltering for a moment. He cleared his throat, radio static crackling faintly in the background.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her, had he? The thought was…disconcerting.

“When I spoke of your stubbornness,” he began, His words slipped out in a whisper, gentler than his norm, “I meant it as an admirable trait. Your determination, your unwavering belief—it’s quite remarkable, really.”

Alastor ducked his head until their eyes met.

“And…well, only a fool would think that they could challenge Heaven or Hell.” He lifted his hand from the small of her back, cupping her chin with a fondness even he could not deny. “Yet, here I stand with the incredible young lady who has bested them both.”

“Oh, Alastor…” Charlie’s eyes were brimming with those tears again, though these were happy—he assumed. Though the demon had just as little idea what to do with—but soon she was wrapping her arms around him, squeezing his waist and pressing face into his chest.

Their dance had turned into an intimate embrace, but the Radio Demon didn’t pull away. His chin came to rest on top of her blonde waves. Wondering when he had stopped trying to sway her, and just kept holding her close.

After an eternity that was not near long enough, Charlie turned her cheek to press to the buttons of his blood red shirt.

“Al,” Charlie murmured, her words barely audible over the music. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, my dear.”

Charlie hesitated, and Alastor had a heartbeat to regret his instant agreement. “Do you really not want to be redeemed?” She lifted her head to look at him with those big glossy eyes, and Alastor felt his smile slip. “Or…do you just think you can’t be?”

And he felt himself torn down the middle. Between the instinct to deflect and protect himself—and the horrific urge to tell her the truth.

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

Alastor’s foot caught, nearly missing a step in their slow dance. The slip was imperceptible from the outside—but he knew Charlie felt it, because her hold around him tightened. Like she could keep him from falling.

“I…my dear.” He hesitated, actually, hesitated. “Charlie…I know what I am, and what I am not.”

The words fell heavier than he intended, hanging in the air between them.

Charlie’s amber eyes blazed with an intensity that caught Alastor off guard. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his black vest, pulling him down until their faces were mere inches apart.

“Yeah? Well, maybe—just maybe you don’t know everything, huh?” The Princess challenged, her whisper fierce.

Alastor’s eyebrows shot up, genuinely surprised by her boldness. By her…closeness. It was distracting, to say the least.

The scent of her blonde hair pulled him back to this morning, the way it and Charlie splayed across his chest. And everything else disappeared.

Charlie didn’t relent. “I know who you are too, Al. And I know there’s good in you. I’ve seen it, even if you refuse to.”

“Dear little Princess Charlotte.” Alastor retreated into the perfect performance radio host. “Ever the optimist. But I am afraid this dog is too old for new tricks.” A hitched laugh escaped his lips, slipping from humor into something much darker.

Part of Alastor knew he was baiting her—Charlie was incapable of resisting a lost cause. It was safer territory than bearing his throat to be bled dry.

Charlie, predictably, had to do the right thing. She gripped on to him tighter. “You won’t scare me off, Alastor.” Her eyes never left his—and he could feel the determination burning.

Alastor leaned closer, a breath away, his brown eyes turning a deep, menacing red as his pupils became radio slits—radio dials. A reminder that this dapper exterior was just a thin veil over the predator beneath.

“Are you quite sure about that?” he let his voice into a dangerous whisper.

Charlie didn’t flinch. “Yeah, I am.” Her gaze locked with his.

The challenge hung between them, charged with electricity. Alastor felt a familiar thrill.

The push and the pull. Her belief verses his doubt.

But something else was stirring with in Alastor. A desire to prove to Charlie, once and for all, that her faith in him was misplaced. Before he could second-guess himself, Alastor closed what little distance was left between them.

The kiss was hard with defiance, and burning with longing.

He felt her gasp against his lips, louder in his ears than the appalling music.

Charlie tasted sweet like cinnamon, her mouth soft with surprise as she stayed frozen in place.

For a fleeting, heart-wrenching moment, Alastor was sure that he had finally found the line and crossed it.

Until arms wound around his neck to pull him in closer.

Charlie was kissing him back.

Deepening the kiss until he was the one to gasp—before remembering that he didn’t have teeth sharp enough to cut her tongue.

Alastor was supposed to be proving a point, not enjoying kissing Charlie.

And wishing it never had to end.

⚜️ Part 6 ~ Speak Easy to Me ⚜️

Part 1 ⚜️Part 2 ⚜️ Part 3 ⚜️ Part 4 ⚜️ Part 5 ⚜️ Part 6 ⚜️ Finale

34 notes · View notes

milayawr · 1 year

Text

An Old Memory

Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader

Summary: Nikolai returns with the sun summoner and he has someone special who has waited for him for years.

Warnings: longing

Word count: 1,088

Notes: Thanks for reading this!🩵 This is my first fic, and i'm so nervous. Please let me know what you think about it. Also, English is not my first language, so i apologize if there are any mistakes.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Nothing hurt more than waiting.

She knew the pain that came with it, maybe more than anyone else. It was crushing her heart out, consuming her from the inside, and leaving her broken in pieces. But the worst part was not those stupid feelings, it was hiding it. Over the years, she became very good at hiding her broken heart but she could never hide her sadness. Everyone asked her about her feelings. Why was she sad all the time? She couldn't say she was waiting for a prince since she was already married to a prince, so every time she was asked that kind of question she came up with a stupid lie.

Vasily Lanstov was quite handsome. His wealth was every girl's dream. He was going to be the king of Ravka. She should've been happy. She had accepted the marriage with the hopes of being happy. Her happiness was becoming a queen but she didn't know love could change everything.

Vasily was kind enough but never truly cared for her. He was interested in far different things. He even cared more for his horse than his new wife. They were married for nearly three months but he didn't even come to their bed.

She wasn't complaining about it though. She never thought of having a man in her bed while her mind belonged to another.

She loved him for years. Even when she was engaged, she had feelings for that particular prince.

She came to Os Alta when she was sixteen. She was a duke's daughter and her family and Vasily's family had planned a marriage for years and when the right time knocked on the door her family sent her to the capital. She lived with the royal family since then. The queen had always been on her side. She was also kind but she was not giving a mother's love to her.

She was craving love ever since she could remember.

Maybe that was the reason why she fell in love with that bastard.

He was a year younger than her but his charming face made him look a bit older. He was way more mature than her in some topics but still not mature at all at the same time. He was damnably handsome. Brave in battle, he got into the army when he was sixteen. An excellent dancer, they danced at so many parties when he was still in the capital. His charm would affect someone from miles away.

She never understood how she fell in love with such a person.

She should've loved Vasily. She had to love Vasily. Well, she would have if Vasily had taken care of her, look at her face even once, smile and help her out with the loneliness, and shown her love. Being a little kind didn't help the situation. Even though she was newly wedded she was waiting for a man she hadn't seen for years because she was longing for his affection.

She knew her love did have a mutual feeling. She knew that he liked her, that he had a feeling for her. Even if it was not love, he still liked her. But now, even though he liked her, it was impossible for him to be in love with her because she was the wife of his fucking brother.

But that didn't stop him from kissing her before he was gone.

It was the last thing she remembered from him. She was engaged to Vasily at that time. They were saying goodbye to each other. She was grateful for his friendship, far more than grateful, actually. She was thanking him and then suddenly he was kissing her.

She hasn't forgotten the look of regret in his eyes after that.

Embarrassment filled her as she closed her eyes. He regretted the best thing that ever happened to her. Maybe when he arrives he's going to be distant. "Fuck him," she muttered under her breath.

"Did you say something, your highness?" Asked the maid who was walking behind her.

"No." She answered. Everyone was used to her cold tone over the years. She was never the same after him. She slept with the memory of him kissing her and woke up to the reality of being engaged to his brother. And now she was even married to his brother.

She missed him and she wondered if he missed her as well.

The butterflies in her stomach worsened her day. They were flying around since the moment she heard he was gonna be back. The queen was excited as her, but their excitement was for different things. The queen was waiting for her sweet son, and she was waiting for her first love.

And Vasily was probably not showing up. Again.

Fuck him too, she thought. They were brothers after all. Far different personalities but still, the same shit. Saints, she should hate them both but she can't. She can't hate Vasily because she is his wife and she can't hate Nikolai because he is just… him.

How could she hate Nikolai?

She wanted to forget everything about him as she walked down the hall. She wasn't with the queen, the king, and probably, hopefully, Vasily. She hoped Vasily was there because when she'll see Sobachka again she wanted to hold onto his arm and smile at her husband as if she was in love with him. She needed Vasily for once.

When the door ahead of her opened she held her breath. All the things in her mind flew away. The blond hair was the first thing that got her interest. He was wearing his fancy clothes. He was more handsome than she imagined over the years. The second she realized it was him, everything disappeared. It was just him and her as she always wanted. Why was she wanting that feeling to be gone? After all those longings that broke her apart she was seeing him again, so why?

She didn't have the time to think when he had arrived. The idea of him was rushing around her mind. Nikolai Lantsov was standing right there and all she could do was stare at his handsome bastard face.

He smiled as he wasn't the source of her sadness, broken heart and longings. "Hello, Y/N." He said with a steady voice.

His face, voice, charm... Everything about him was just a memory that had gotten old.

An old memory was standing in front of her and she was speechless.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lanstov x y/n #nikolai lanstov imagine #grishaverse #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #grishaverse fanfic #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #fanfic

131 notes · View notes

kaitlinamberxo · 2 months

Text

“He’s damnably handsome. Brave in battle, smart as a whip. An excellent dancer, oh, and an even better shot.”

kaitlin's 100 favorite fictional muses — 97/100: Nikolai Lantsov / Sturmhond

25 notes · View notes

writingcold · 1 year

Text

Fireside

Thank you goes out to @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine for creating this moodboard and the tip of the hat for using it as inspiration. This was going to be a smutty, smutty mess at first, but, alas - it's a strange, fluffy concoction. There's nothing to really warn about other than a few sexual references, a tiny amount of alcohol, but mostly just stupid shit and of course, bad language and grammar. Sorry for the typos - this is barely edited.

Pairing: Jake x fem reader insert

Word Count: approx 5700

Work had been an absolute nightmare. Your tyrant boss had been trying to revoke the approval of your vacation time, but the HR angels sheltered you. They were fast to point out that your vacation had already been ‘postponed’ three times in the past fourteen months. Not to mention, you had only used a few actual sick days during that time. The fact that the fucker paid you well was no excuse to expect you not to be a human being and actually want time off.

You had your bag packed and waiting by the door of your apartment. All you had to do was shed your work clothes, shove some food in your face, send a text to Jake that you were on your way, and hit the road. You had a three hour drive ahead of you. Cell service was spotty in the area of the cabin, so you could only hope that he remembered to turn the booster on inside - but even then, service was iffy at best. You put on your most favoritest playlist that will keep you awake for the drive. Windows down, wind in your hair, and coffee at your side, you depart.

Josh’s “traffic was a bitch” voice is pumping through your head only twenty minutes into the ride. It seems everyone had decided to leave town all at the same time, and the scheduled summer road construction has barfed all over your route. You are barely idling forward for miles. You glance at your phone when you are once again at a standstill. Jake texted to be careful. You scold yourself. You knew you should have let him come into the city and then drive you both out the next day. You could have had drinks at that new bar down the street and supper at the diner. You could have caught up nicely in the quiet of your apartment. However, it did not make sense to have him drive hours to your place when the cabin was essentially the halfway point between your home and his landing spot in Nashville.

You are more than an hour behind when you finally make the turn that would take you on the winding county roads that snaked up through the hills and forest. And it was dark. So fucking dark. The kind of dark when you may have your brights on, but you are still straining to see. You fight off the urge to lay into the gas pedal, despite your tardiness; despite your urgency to get to your destination. It has been weeks since you’ve seen your mate. He has been on the road with a tour while you toiled away at your 9-5 job. The idea of quitting the job tickles and prickles at the back of your thoughts, but in truth, you are too independent to throw your work to the wind and give up many of the comforts that the paycheck has afforded you.

A flash of eyes at the side and you hit the brakes just as a deer steps onto the shoulder. The doe stares at your headlights as your heart pounds, hoping upon hope that you can bring your car to a stop before striking it. Without a care, she strolls across, stopping every few steps like she knows you are trying to get somewhere where a very handsome man is waiting for you. A second doe strolls out of the ditch, following her friend.

Out of frustration, a whole conversation breaks out in your mind as the damnable beasts linger in the road, staring you down like you had nothing better to do…

Deer 1: “Oh look, Heidi - looks like she’s on a mission.”

Deer 2: “Hmmmmmm… Booty call for sure.”

Deer 1: “What’s the rush, sweetheart? Oooo - look Heidi! The paint is sooo shiny when her lights hit it. Makes me think those mushrooms were a bit wonky… But it looks so pretty! So many colors…”

Deer 2: “Wow. Never thought reflective paint could be so shimmery...”

Deer 1: “I bet her guy’s - gender neutral of course - ass is that sparkly - but in that weird human pasty kind of way.”

**You honk the horn in an effort to startle them away. Frustration bubbles in your core, threatening to boil over the longer these animals are in the road. The bigger of the two does raises her head up and looks directly at you and you can swear, the bitch is throwing sass your direction.**

Deer 1: “Bitch, please.”

Deer 2: “You know, them ferns over there looking pretty good, Frannie.”

Deer 1: “Honk that metal coffin at me… Lord. Maybe you shouldn’t be in such a rush to get railed.”

**You growl. You literally growl as the two does finally get over to the other side of the road. You slowly ease off the break and move to press the accelerator only to have one jump back into the road. You slam the break with a frustrated howl.**

Deer 2: “Ha! Gotcha!”

Deer 1: “You so funny, Heidi. Did you see those eyes pop! I thought they were gonna come out of her damn head. Come on. Whoever she’s gettin’ too probably doesn’t look much better than an ass end of a moose.”

You are pretty sure that they are laughing at you as they trail away. Aside from a very imaginary, snarky conversation between two deer, you regroup and ease back into a good pace. You are totally out of coffee and water and your bladder is next to complain. You are still ninety minutes from the cabin. You take a side step, heading for a little country store in hopes that it did not close early. A few miles to the east and the store comes into sight. Most would chalk it up as too scary to stop. It may be a shack on the outside, with dim lighting across the four space parking lot, complete with a buzzing, half functioning sign that left one to wonder if anyone who went into the establishment came back out with all of their appendages; however, this was a place you knew well. You bounce out of the car and wave at the couple behind the counter as you head straight for the restroom.

Relieved, you loop around to the coffee stand and fix yourself another cup of your favorite hot beverage. You grab a water bottle before heading up to the register. You also spot some of Jake’s favorite little treats, fresh made and smiling at you. Exchanging pleasantries with the owners, you smile as you leave with a little wave. You check your phone before you start the engine. Two hours late. A slow, shredded ‘fuck’ leaves your mouth through your teeth, past your lips and into the world. There are three texts from Jake - all just checking in - all three cool tempered and ranging from four to twelve words each. You text him that you are at Spencer's store and getting back on the road. You turn on a heavier playlist in hopes of keeping your wits about you. The next stretch was a meandering thread through curves with the woods nearly right up against both sides of the road and sheer drop off bluffs that would take you higher into the hills. You knew it well enough, but it always was a bit off putting to know no one - nobody existed along the stretch of dense state forest.

The closer to the cabin you get, the more relaxed you are. You are belting out one of your favorite songs into the void. Jake is only forty minutes away. Yup. 40. You can do this. The little spark in your core sits up as you allow yourself to picture him waiting with beer in hand, a smirk on those lush lips that would welcome you home. You know the first few days would be an absolute frenzy of sex and closeness and more sex and more togetherness. Yeah… it was the shit you currently lived for…

“Son of a bitch!” you scream out as you slam on the breaks.

A porcupine is fucking meandering down the middle of the road in no hurry at all. You can picture it even singing as it moves along.

Porcupine: Dooopa dooooda doooopa doooopie dooooooooOOOOoooOOoooo You curse - out loud and loudly as the creature swerves left to right and back again completely oblivious to your existence. You dare not roll the car forward and squish the poor beast. What kind of a person are you for even thinking that? Fuck. Come on. This is worse than the fucker with the Stop/Slow sign that is bored standing there directing traffic and decides to cause a little fuckery to brighten their day by being super fast with their power hungry sign management skills.

Porcupine: Dooopa dooooda doooopa doooopie dooooooooOOOOoooOOoooo

OK - this is getting ridiculous. You are less than 40 minutes away from the sexiest man on the entire planet. He is waiting for you. Are you really going to let this stupid creature get in your way?

Porcupine: Dooopa dooooda doooopa doooopie dooooooooOOOOoooOOoooo

Motherfucker. Did that thing really just turn and cackle at you? Maybe. You narrow your eyes as it begins to skitter off in what may be the ditch… Nope. Back to the center of the road.

Porcupine: Dooopa dooooda doooopa doooopie dooooooooOOOOoooOOoooo

You are practically pounding the steering wheel with anxious fingertips. Out of nowhere, a huge bird swoops down and nearly hits your windshield. You scream and flinch like the damn thing is going to rip you out of the car and carry you away. The porcupine has suddenly made a mad dash to safety; his stupid little song silenced. Collecting yourself, you make a mental note that you are going to have the biggest, stiffest drink known to man the moment you arrive at the cabin. No ifs. No ands. No fucking buts about it. Whatever was in the damn air that was making this drive abnormally weird certainly did not have the best intentions towards you.

Taking a sip of your once scalding hot beverage, you chance it and down it as it’s that magic temp where it only is perfect for a time window that only god and physics people can figure out but can’t create to stay that way for longer than twenty seconds. You tuck your mug back into its spot and readjust in your seat just as a particularly lovely ditty comes on - all heavy guitars and banging lyrics. You find yourself screeching out at the top of your lungs as you relax, foot pressed a little harder on the gas than you knew you should, but damn - you were less than thirty minutes away from your sex god demon boyfriend and you could give a shit if something…

You pull your foot back as a shadow creeps at the edge of the road several car lengths ahead. It is startling. You can’t figure out what the hell it was - just big and dark, matching the midnight of the sky. There it was again - movement. All shadowy and spooky - just on the fringe ahead… Your eyes narrow. Your whole focus is on that shadow as you crawl your car forward. You hope like hell it’s not like some crazy stupid forest monster that was going to disappear your ass. At the same time you’re too scared to actually fully stop the vehicle in the case that it is some forest cryptid that is going to eat your face off and drag you into the nether never to be seen again. You see the shadow again, this time it’s like it’s lurking. You pull the wheel to maneuver the car further into the on-coming lane and decide to floor it. It’s probably just a bear, but to be safe, you just gun that damn engine and take off like a shot. Your heart is pounding and your eyes refuse to focus on anything but the road ahead of you.

Finally… FINALLY you arrive at the turn for the drive back to the cabin. The driveway is just over three quarters of a mile, leading you back into the woods, winding up a hill that you dare not navigate during the winter. The cabin is all lit up on the inside, sending a warm, orange glow across the soft roll of the hill and splashing through the tree trunks and ferns that made up the front yard. You pull in next to Jake’s truck, cutting the engine off and sitting for a long moment. Never had you ever had such a ride like the one you just experienced. Traffic. Possessed animals. Or was it more like you are just being too desperate to get to this hill and your man that every little bump turned into fucking mountains that felt like you had to scale them in truly strange, horrific fashion.

Your eyes skate over the kitchen window, hoping that perhaps he was standing waiting, watching for you. Instead, no shadow passes the paned glass. You grab a garbage bag and shove your remnants of the drive into it before sliding out and righting yourself under the velvet night. The void of fellow humans fills you. It’s all crickets and frogs and breeze through the poplars and birch and oak and pines that welcomes you home. Yanking your bag from the backseat and tossing your garbage in the bin, you move towards the door. Inside is small, but cozy. The kitchen bleeds into the dining and living rooms with windows everywhere. The soft textures meet the rough in just the right balance that makes you sigh, knowing that you are safe and warm.

You call out for him, but there’s no answer. You drop your bag in the loft bedroom, a grin passing your mouth at the sight of his own stuff haphazardly tossed around and set out for the extended week to come. You duck back downstairs, catching sight of a flicker in the backyard. Taking a moment, you look out to see the silken amber glow and soft shadowing of a campfire dancing against the tree trunks. You can just make out Jake’s form, sitting in one of the adirondack chairs, his guitar across his lap, leg stretched out and resting against the large stones of the fire pit. A wave of comfort washes over you as you descend down into the basement to the walkout that would lead you directly to him.

Softly closing the screen door behind you, you are wrapped in the soft strumming of his playing and the pops and crackles of the fire. He glances over his shoulder, his eyes searching for you. The corner of his mouth tugs as you approach. He sets the guitar to the side before standing to greet you. Without warning, you latch onto him, pressing your body flush to his, your mouth landing against his in a sinful, needy kiss. He is quick to wrap his arms around you, hands brushing against your waist before folding up against your back. A deep rumble bubbles from his chest as he allows you to lean into him. One of your hands lands against the stubble on his cheek while the other pushes into his hair. You find yourself intoxicated instantly from his touch; his taste; his presence.

“Damn, I missed you,” he whispers as he draws in a breath. “I was starting to worry.”

“Sure,” you quip as your eyes continue to trace across his face, looking for anything that may have changed in the weeks of separation. “You sure look like it.”

He dips his chin shyly. “Aw, I was just about to play some pretty angsty shit to see if that would help.”

The sound of his laughter fills you as he swings your body around against his. His hands dig into your hips and your ass and your tummy as his touch seems to be everywhere suddenly. You are not much better. Your hands are already running up the front of his chopped up t-shirt, searching for skin and warmth and just… Jake.

“Awfully needy,” he sighs as you practically yank and shred the fabric from his body in the not usual route of just sliding it off.

You growl, and you are not embarrassed by it. After your ride, you just needed all of him and all of him in a rough, mean, sloppy way that you would never fully articulate, but he always seemed to understand what exactly you needed anyway. His wicked chuckle as he discards the shirt away from the fire - don’t ask. It would not have been the first time he lost a garment to the flames through your need.

You straighten up your back, plaster your most serious face you can muster and capture his full, shirtless attention. “I need you to rail the shit out of me and this shitty assed drive up here. I need you to do that now.”

He rolls his lips in between his teeth. His eyes are a liquid emotion that you barely register before it seems like your clothes are smoldering in their near correct places. He clears his throat as if the depth of the expectation has been launched at his brain with full intent of harm or… is there an or, really?

You suck in a breath across your teeth. “I appreciate your romantic gesture here. I do. But…”

He gulps a breath before you can retreat from your need. “Okay. Just give me a minute. I’ll take care of this out here. I’ll meet you inside.”

“‘K…” You nod as he turns you back towards the cabin with a little swat on your butt. “I’m sorry I-”

“Nope. You’ve made it loud and clear what you need,” he says as he drags the hose closer, beginning to spray the lovely fire that he had going. “Just head on up to bed and I’ll be there in a minute.”

For a moment, you are frozen. Did you really demand what you think you just did… from Jake? You sip in a breath as his dark eyes climb up your body as he’s bent down, scattering the embers of the campfire. Oh. Committed now and all…

You turn and move back towards the cabin. Through the basement door and up the creaky stairs into the main space. You decide a sip of courage would do you some good before he gets inside. You pull the tequila from the cupboard and shakily pour yourself a shot into a lowball before dousing it with some ginger beer from the fridge. You barely can carry the glass up the stairs into the bedroom. Your brain is only being edged in speed by your heart. Both are racing out of control. You peek out the window, seeing his shadowed outline, giving the now blackened pit a final stir to ensure the flame is completely out. You watch like a stalker as he bends to retrieve his guitar, beer, and finally his smokes before making his way towards the cabin. A swallowed ‘fuck’ buries itself in your throat as you turn away. The drink dribbles down your chin as you rush to the only bathroom.

Your eyes are completely blasted by the not as bright as you think lights. You take another drink of your cocktail before dropping it down to the counter. You hear him walking through the living room and back to the kitchen. The sharp snaps of lightswitches being turned off sends jolts up your spine. You drag your fingers through your hair in some kind of attempt to straighten yourself up. You slide out of your pants and road weary shirt before you start running water to get warm in the sink. The least you can do is freshen up and get the travel tar off your skin before whatever the hell he’s going to do to you gets done.

Cleaned up, washed up, and nearly looking human, you reach for one of his t-shirts just as you hear his footfalls start up the stairs towards you. You take the last sip of your tequila and ginger as he pauses to switch off the stairway lights, effectively announcing his arrival. A shaky breath escapes your lips as you set your glass down on the dresser before turning towards him. He stands at the head of the stairs, his hands calm at his sides. His dark eyes are impossibly full of silk and velvet and lust and longing that you would think that it would spill out across the crest of his cheekbones and land on his pillowed mouth. Or maybe, that is just you projecting everything that is suddenly erupting from every pore of your skin.

“Hey, handsome,” he says, his voice full of rasp as the corner of his mouth curls in a smile.

“Hey, pretty,” you whisper, unable to rip your eyes from the curve of his belly as it streams down the distinct v that drifts beneath his crumpled linen pants.

“I’m surprised you’re still wearing clothes,” he remarks, remaining rooted to his spot, his body giving no clues of what would happen next.

You grin as you swirl a fingertip at the hem of the t-shirt just enough to flirt the edge to reveal the barely there panties that you are sporting. His head tilts ever so slightly as a soft hum passes his lips. You slowly turn your back to him, your fingers skating over the swell of your ass as your ghost the fabric up your sides in a surprisingly graceful maneuver as you dip your chin to look at him over your shoulder. He raises an eyebrow and licks at his lip, just as a lock of your hair drifts across your brow in what you hope is an oh so sexy moment.

“Impressed?” you coo as you drag the fabric up until you can bring it over your head.

He lets out an amused laugh. “Always,” he sighs, still not moving. “Get on the bed. Lay down on your belly.”

You comply because let’s face it - you’ve presented your need, why fight it? You feel the tip of his callused finger trace across your ankle before skating up one calf and give a little tickle behind your knee. Just as you’re folding your arms under your pillow to get more comfortable, he grabs you by the ankles and yanks you down. You let out a surprised yelp, watching as he knocks off the pillows before he takes one wrist in between his fingers.

You watch as he stretches your arms up towards the headboard, hooking your fingers to the edge of the bed. “Both hands stay right here. Doesn’t matter if you are on your belly or on your back. Do you understand?”

You feel your skin grow hot at the sound of authority in his tone. You nod as you whisper out an affirmation. He leans into you, planting a little kiss to your forehead with a smile. One hand lands in the middle of your bare back and glides down the expanse of skin, stopping only for a moment before hooking into the fabric of your undies and pulling them down and off in a painfully slow fashion that allowed each of his fingers brush against the insides of your legs on their journey down. Your breath quickens as you feel him move away from you, only to return his path on the other side of the bed, his hands passing over you like silk - teasing, touching, hovering, pressing. Everywhere in their wake, his touch is leaving gooseflesh and a scorch of desire for more.

He disappears for a moment, leaving a vacuum of silence that weighs on you heavily. The coil of anticipation begins to strangle you as the thunk of his boots hitting the floor strikes your ears, followed by the clank of his belt knocking on the top of the dresser. You can picture him as he slowly undresses - each piece landing in a designated spot for ease of use in the morning. A little hum slides through his lips as he grows nearer to you, his rings striking the nightstand and you turn your head to look at how he grins to himself and continues on like he didn’t have a naked you stretched across the bed like a trophy. You listen as he steps into the bathroom. That spring of anticipation is turning into outright frustration. You sink your teeth into the tender flesh of your arm in hopes of summoning an ounce of patience.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice rough with rasp. “It’s like your whole body is vibrating. Do you need this that badly?”

“Fuck,” you breath out.

“What happened between home and here?” he asks gently, while still keeping himself away.

“I almost lost my damn vacation because of the boss,” you start with a low grumble, the venom spilling out on the mattress beneath you. “Can you believe that? He literally went to HR and tried to have me fired if I didn’t show up next week. Which I’m not. I’m not going in. HR insisted that I must take my time.”

“I know you love your job, but maybe-”

You shake your head. “I’m not ready to go - no matter how fucked up he is. There are still more aspects to the job that do not involve him that I love.”

“Okay,” he whispers as he moves in between your outstretched legs, but not yet moving onto the bed. He ghosts his fingertips across your calves, back and forth, the pressure gaining traction with each pass until he’s literally dragging his hands up and down your legs like a massage. “What else has you in these knots?”

Your eyes roll under his care before you harken back to the drive. “Ugh - it was like everyone had the same idea to leave the city all at the same moment, and the construction…”

“Yeah,” he agreed, pressing forward past your knees and into the tender skin of your thighs, mirroring his technique he had just given your calves. “It’s so bad this year.”

“It was down to one damn lane for miles and there’s always that one asshole that has to wait until last minute to merge and fuck everyone else who planned ahead,” you continue, unable to hide the squeak as he hits a few stress knots about mid-thigh.

He lets out a supportive hum as he moves up onto the mattress, straddling your thighs. He continues to massage his way up your body in a delicious, albeit slow, manner.

“It was like every animal was on the road coming up here,” you scoff, leaning into his hands as he drags them up your hips. “I swear there was an edict that was not going to allow me to actually get here.”

“And yet,” he whispers, digging the heels of his palms into the tops of your ass, “here you are, naked and lovely before me.”

“Almost three hours late…” you begin to grouse until his fingers dig into the tension in your low back. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as a whorish moan escapes.

“You like that, huh,” he whispers against your shoulder as he repeats the move to elicit the same reaction. “Oh my.”

You feel yourself melting into the mattress under his care. “I just… oh fuuuuck…”

He drags his fingertips hard down on either side of your spine before retreating back upwards to your shoulders. You feel his weight against the meat of your butt as he uses you to support himself. He leans down, placing featherlight kisses against the back of your neck. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers into your hair before he laps at the back of your ear.

You let go of a hot gasp as he removes his proximity away. The heels of both hands press along the ridge of your shoulders, dragging across to the mattress. A deep, throaty groan escapes you as he repeats the move followed by gentle finger presses that drag down along your flanks.

“I thought I would never get here,” you sigh as his fingers rain down along your ribs on both sides. “I did get you some of those little bars that you like from Spencer’s.”

He hummed as he moved off your hips to one side of the bed. “Thank you. Maybe we can have them later.”

He asks you to roll onto your back with a soft reminder of where to keep your hands. You obey, feeling like a fish on a spit, but you do it anyway. He lets out a quiet laugh as he swipes your hair that has fallen across your face. The low light of the room bounces off his features, making him look all the more handsome. Or maybe that was the edge of the tequila messing with you. Either way, you don’t care. He’s the prettiest thing your tired eyes have seen all day. He grins as he slides away from your side. He begins to rub at the arches of your feet. Firm pressure strikes knots you were not aware existed are stuck and you gasp and grimace as he continues to massage along without much expression. Those dark eyes sparkle at you as your body feels like it’s melting into the mattress under his care.

His fingers drift upwards and return down. You wanted to growl out that he was the world’s biggest tease, but your mouth stretched in a yawn instead. As he pulled his frame in between your legs once more, climbing up onto the mattress, your eyelids felt like they were fluttering in the wind as you struggled against them.

“Sleepy, love?” he asked, the bass of his voice rippling across your skin as he brushed his lip across the tender skin of your belly.

He rolls those sinful eyes up across and through your cleavage, pinning your gaze and making your breathing hitch. Once more, his palms graze across your hips, pressing upward to your flanks in a press that makes you ooze deeper into relaxation.

“If I didn’t know better, Jakey,” you whisper as you desperately try to stifle another yawn, “you’re trying to get me to relax so much that I go to sleep.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” he chuckles as he begins to cover your body with his own.

His heat invades every inch of you as you melt under him. His lips pass over your mouth before landing against the bump of your chin. Slowly, he pushes his hands against your stretched out arms, lacing his fingers with your own. He pulled his shoulders back a bit so as to look down into your face.

“And you want me to rail the shit out of you,” he says as you struggle to keep your focus. His grin tugs a little more as you cover your yawn once more.

“Uh huh,” you sigh as he starts to plant tender kisses against your throat.

“You want me to do what exactly?” he whisper asks into your skin before he presses his tongue against the hollow of your collarbone.

The heat of his body mixed with the silk of his voice begins to tug in ways that are opposite of what you want. Your eyes are rolling back in your head, but not with pleasure. You gasp out, but it’s a yawn that fills the air around you. Your skin and bones feel heavy. But he continues to slowly kiss and lap at your skin. He’s in no hurry to fulfill your voiced wishes. You become mesmerized as his hands leave hot, relaxed trails up and down your sides and arms.

“Jake,” you manage, voice thick with sleep and comfort.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, barely shifting his weight against you. “You ready?”

14 hours later…

You sit up in a sun filled room - alone. There is no luscious ache to your thighs. There’s no love marks on your tummy. There are no remnants of the previous night at all. You struggle to untangle yourself from the sheets to fly into the bathroom for relief and a clean up. The scent of coffee and cooking strikes your nose as you’re dragging a t-shirt and undies on. You can hear soft music in the air as you fight with the zipper on your bag to at least retrieve a pair of shorts.

You move down the stairs to find Jake, bare chested and a steaming cup in hand while he stirs eggs in the cast iron on the cooktop. His hair is in a sloppy tiny pony that is hanging on for dear life. His face is content as he turns towards you, surprise in his eyes.

“You’re alive,” he teases as you move towards him.

You wait for him to set his cup down and turn off the stove before moving up against him. Your hands slide across his shoulders and to his back as he pulls you in, kissing you sweetly.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” you said, blushing and hiding your face in his neck.

“And I was railing you so good, too, baby,” he jabs with a laugh.

You gasp and slap at his shoulder, even though you are still hiding your face from him. He takes your chin in hand and maneuvers you around to see you. There is nothing but warmth and good humor and love. He pecks your mouth and lets you go. You watch as he slides eggs on plates along with biscuits. He points to the coffee and walks past you.

“Better eat up, y/n,” he said with a firm tone. “You’re gonna need your strength.”

You pour yourself a cup, fixing it how you like it before joining him at the table. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Oh, so demanding last night and then you just…” He grins and lets out a little laugh that fills you with a flutter as he pretends to fall asleep dramatically. “It’s now my turn.”

*****

Hey - I made it through my second reader insert! Whoa! Hope you liked it. Let me know. I know it's weird. 🤪🤪 If you'd like to be tagged for my work, let me know or you can join here

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @joshkiszkas-admin @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @myownparadise96 @reesetrippingthelight @kyrose11 @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @puzzle-gvf @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @brookes-so-done @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @lightmylove-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction

73 notes · View notes