Yet another fill for you, OP, I hope this is ok with you :)
A continuation (and by continuation I mean jumping waaaaay ahead of myself plot-wise) of my Galmar Stone-Fist/F!Breton!DB story As Bad As Any Elf (http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3603.html?thread=4133395#t4133395)
Galmar Stone-Fist was a difficult man to surprise. He'd lived a good many years, watching people, planning tactics and strategies to deal with men and mer. He understood how people's minds worked. His wife's mind, on the other hand, he suspected he'd never understand.
Once they had been antagonists, on the same side, but wary of one another - more so when he had learned of her dragon magic (as useful as it was for Ulfric's army, Galmar found it difficult to reconcile with a lifetime of prejudice against mages, necromancers and their ilk) - before finding an unexpected camaraderie, and, eventually, more again besides.
They knew each other's ways, quirks, bodies, in a kind of intimacy that had grown so naturally that neither had realised it was love until they woke up still tangled together, and happier than either had been for the longest time.
They parted only for quests or unavoidable Stormcloak business (which cropped up more than Galmer liked or wanted now that Ulfric was almost High King) and always their reunions in Hjerim sent Rozenn's Housecarl running for Candlehearth.
Until, one day, she returned from returning some Dwemer artifact to the ruin it had been stolen from (a task Galmar could not imagine - usually it was to fetch something out of ruins) and sent Calder away with a fat purse and told Galmar to sit at the table.
*-*
"What is it, Breton?" Galmar drawled, with a slow, affectionate smile warming his features.
"Here's the thing," she said, sitting on a stool in the middle of the floor. Agitated, she stood and began pacing the carpeted area. "The thing is..."
Galmar waited, pretending to be patient. If he rushed her she'd give him the Silent Treatment out of spite. He waited until her pacing brought her within arm's reach and caught her, pulling her onto his lap - her back to his front - folding his arms around her waist.
"What is the thing?" Galmar asked quietly, talking like a man trying to coax a spooked horse.
"You recall when I spoke of my life in Bruma?" Rozenn asked him.
"Remind me, feeble old man that I am, I appear to have forgotten," he replied.
She turned sideways on his lap and gave him a half-hearted punch on the shoulder in retaliation for his teasing. Then she sighed and rested her head against the same shoulder.
"The local physician told me I would never have a child of my own," she prefaced.
"And I told you, all we need to do is pay a visit to Riften," Galmar interrupted.
Rozenn elbowed him.
"Please, continue, my love," he grunted.
"I ... we never tried to prevent ... I didn't think it necessary ... I -I -"
"Are you telling me you're with child?" Galmar asked shrewdly.
Rozenn nodded.
"This is wonderful! You always manage to surprise me, little Breton. What did I tell you? Those Imperial quacks, they know nothing!" Galmar crowed happily.
"Is it?" Rozenn's voice was the barest whisper.
"Of course it is. A man wants a child of his own blood to carry the family name. Talos knows Rolff's never going to get around to it," Galmar nuzzled the crown of her head, smiling broadly as he spoke.
"What if-" Rozen broke off, shaking her head.
"What if what? I can fight the dragons so you don't have to," Galmar said matter-of-factly.
Rozenn shook her head. "Not what I was thinking, but thank you, my love."
"Well, what?" Galmar asked impatiently.
"Well, you're big by Nord standards - Ysmir's beard, you're big by Giant standards! And me, well, I'm just little, runty even by Breton standards," Rozen spoke quietly, trying to hide in the soft fur of Galmar's bearskin cloak.
"Will you stop dancing around your what-if and say it?" Galmar grumbled.
Fill: Unexpected
A continuation (and by continuation I mean jumping waaaaay ahead of myself plot-wise) of my Galmar Stone-Fist/F!Breton!DB story As Bad As Any Elf (http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3603.html?thread=4133395#t4133395)
Tags: Relationship: het genre: fluff genre: humour char: galmar stone-fist char: f!pc race: breton race: nord kink: size-difference kink: age-difference kink: cuddling
Unexpected
*-*-*
Galmar Stone-Fist was a difficult man to surprise. He'd lived a good many years, watching people, planning tactics and strategies to deal with men and mer. He understood how people's minds worked. His wife's mind, on the other hand, he suspected he'd never understand.
Once they had been antagonists, on the same side, but wary of one another - more so when he had learned of her dragon magic (as useful as it was for Ulfric's army, Galmar found it difficult to reconcile with a lifetime of prejudice against mages, necromancers and their ilk) - before finding an unexpected camaraderie, and, eventually, more again besides.
They knew each other's ways, quirks, bodies, in a kind of intimacy that had grown so naturally that neither had realised it was love until they woke up still tangled together, and happier than either had been for the longest time.
They parted only for quests or unavoidable Stormcloak business (which cropped up more than Galmer liked or wanted now that Ulfric was almost High King) and always their reunions in Hjerim sent Rozenn's Housecarl running for Candlehearth.
Until, one day, she returned from returning some Dwemer artifact to the ruin it had been stolen from (a task Galmar could not imagine - usually it was to fetch something out of ruins) and sent Calder away with a fat purse and told Galmar to sit at the table.
*-*
"What is it, Breton?" Galmar drawled, with a slow, affectionate smile warming his features.
"Here's the thing," she said, sitting on a stool in the middle of the floor. Agitated, she stood and began pacing the carpeted area. "The thing is..."
Galmar waited, pretending to be patient. If he rushed her she'd give him the Silent Treatment out of spite. He waited until her pacing brought her within arm's reach and caught her, pulling her onto his lap - her back to his front - folding his arms around her waist.
"What is the thing?" Galmar asked quietly, talking like a man trying to coax a spooked horse.
"You recall when I spoke of my life in Bruma?" Rozenn asked him.
"Remind me, feeble old man that I am, I appear to have forgotten," he replied.
She turned sideways on his lap and gave him a half-hearted punch on the shoulder in retaliation for his teasing. Then she sighed and rested her head against the same shoulder.
"The local physician told me I would never have a child of my own," she prefaced.
"And I told you, all we need to do is pay a visit to Riften," Galmar interrupted.
Rozenn elbowed him.
"Please, continue, my love," he grunted.
"I ... we never tried to prevent ... I didn't think it necessary ... I -I -"
"Are you telling me you're with child?" Galmar asked shrewdly.
Rozenn nodded.
"This is wonderful! You always manage to surprise me, little Breton. What did I tell you? Those Imperial quacks, they know nothing!" Galmar crowed happily.
"Is it?" Rozenn's voice was the barest whisper.
"Of course it is. A man wants a child of his own blood to carry the family name. Talos knows Rolff's never going to get around to it," Galmar nuzzled the crown of her head, smiling broadly as he spoke.
"What if-" Rozen broke off, shaking her head.
"What if what? I can fight the dragons so you don't have to," Galmar said matter-of-factly.
Rozenn shook her head. "Not what I was thinking, but thank you, my love."
"Well, what?" Galmar asked impatiently.
"Well, you're big by Nord standards - Ysmir's beard, you're big by Giant standards! And me, well, I'm just little, runty even by Breton standards," Rozen spoke quietly, trying to hide in the soft fur of Galmar's bearskin cloak.
"Will you stop dancing around your what-if and say it?" Galmar grumbled.
"Will it fit inside me?"
*-*