#I tried he gave up. I kept my promise to god in my marriage not him & god sees it all so stop your lies | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiss-me-muchoo · 5 months ago

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𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞? || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚cius 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐆𝐞𝐭a

part one: here || part two; i’ve been the archer

summary_ after returning from Egypt, you are set to marry your half brother Geta. When you fall in love with General Marcus Acaius, your brother tries everything to prevent you from slipping away from him.

warnings_CRINGE, age gap!, semi incest (do not romanticize irl) reader x Geta, drama, angst, VERY quick love confessions, implied SMUT +18

update nov 2024: my phone changed Acacius for Acaius, I’ll change it on these days bye

NOTES_ who’s afraid of little old me?, I just wished there were gallows in Ancient Rome, listen to my awful playlist for Marcus and the classic I have for Pedro bb.

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist + Marcus’s playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

If there was something you’d never miss… were the carmine sunsets. Those lasted more than usual. That kept the beginning of the night warm and made you the silent promise of another good day by the following morning.

It had been easy for your father to send you away as soon as your mother quit their marriage. Your brother was a big inconvenience and a hidden mistake that shattered your little wealthy family. Under the cautious look of the Roman Senate, your parents were still bonded in a strong marriage. But the truth was that your father never truly loved the woman who gave birth to you. Which led to your mother leaving for Egypt, a Roman Province. Soon after her departure, you were sent to Alexandria too.

Each day was a boost to your status. Learning a vast variety of languages and dialects, learning different types of dances, being able to handle weapons, and gaining control over the Egyptian cities, to help your powerful father; The Emperor.

You barely missed Rome. Your mother was a cold Empress that loosened all the knots your father could have tightened around you. Growing up used to the Egyptian parties, drinking the finest beer and bread. Taking occasional lovers since virginity was not a necessity for marriage in Egyptian society. One of those lovers specifically, was a tall warrior with sun-kissed bronze skin that transformed you into a woman in every aspect you couldn’t discover by yourself. It was a shame when he died after a bad injury during war.

In the present, being in your first years as a young woman, things were likely to change, and you were very aware of it. That didn’t stop you from having the time of your life in the vivid city of Alexandria. With very few friends, a dead lover, and a dream.

Every night you savored those carmine sunsets to pray to Venus. Perhaps your dream of finding a true love hadn’t happened yet due to praying to her instead to Hathor; the god of love in Egyptian territory. Nevertheless, you intended to marry a man who was ridiculously, recklessly, and borderline obsessed with you. You wanted to live the broken dream of your mother.

Until desires were abruptly paused one night. When you received a letter from your father.

“A letter from the Emperor. It is the wish of your father to have you back in Rome” Your walls crumbled into pieces. The face of shock was splashed all across your face as you listened to your mother.

“What motivated his decision?”

“I can assure you, I don’t know, my child,” your mother says vaguely, tending his favorite flowers inside the palace.

“Do not lie to me, mother” she sighs and suddenly, she starts crying. You don’t know what to do, but the sight unsettles you.

“He wants you to marry Geta…” your eyes get impossibly wide open, and you gasp in shock.

“My brother?” your mother nods. You pace back and forth, wondering why and how could your father come to that conclusion.

Although you were used to attending weddings in Egypt that came from a mother marrying her son, to a brother marrying his sister, it was… awkward. This was the boy that destroyed your family, the boy that would take half of your rights as heir was meant to be your husband and father of your children.

The mere thought scares you.

“Will you accompany me?” It’s the first thing you come up with.

“I must stay here since Egypt won’t have you now” You frown at her words. But your throat tightens, defying to produce tears that quickly threaten to spill everywhere.

“Be strong, remember everything I’ve taught you. No men will defy the tenacity of the emperor’s daughter.” you nod, your eyes prickling with fear that explodes in your chest.

“And in between, find the love I couldn’t keep, no matter what, y/n…”

“I’m seeing you again, Right, mother?” she nods, giving you a cold hug.

“I’ll always be here…”

For the first time, the carmine sunset does not bring you peace. Your mind is edging towards collapse as you approach Rome. As the light of the light leaves, you question everything. So many questions and nothing of time.

…

There were no shattered crystals after dinner as you expected. Your brother Geta welcomed you in Rome with excitement and it confused you even more. He gave you a short and personal tour of his newest garden and prepared the finest banquet made by all of the servants.

Geta is a sole copy of your father. Same mannerisms and style. Only behind his attentive look, you were aware of the sadistic man who talked to you with respect.

“Where is Father?” you ask him, sipping at your wine.

“An important meeting surged. He’ll join us tomorrow, we are preparing vast festivities”

“Festivities for what?” he smiles, you don’t like how compassionate and polite he’s being.

“Our marriage, soror” The heavy makeup on his face does everything to hide the truth of the narcissistic man he is.

You could swear he hated you because your mother was the sovereign empress and you the rightful heir. Your father just happened to have two wives and two kids at the same time.

And despite everything, you didn’t hate your brother. You despised her mother for drawing your own apart from your father. For convincing him to send you away from your solemn fair future. For transforming your brother into some incompetent who seemed to have a hunger for chaos and madness.

“I must thank you, for welcoming me… despite our background differences” It takes him aback. Geta expected a disheveled girl, a rebellious female who followed the ways of the savages; the Egyptians. But he encountered a bright and marvelous sister who tried to act with peace after being so far from home for so long.

“I wished we could’ve grown together, like a united family” you admit coldly, avoiding the whole marriage issue.

“We will be a family, y/n. I’ll make sure of that” he says hiding his lips in his cup of wine and it sends shivers running down your spine.

Geta sees how you stand up and politely push forward the chair you were seated in; excellent manners.

“As a tradition of mine, I’ll see the sunset and pray before going to rest. Please excuse me….” your brother nods, still processing your words as you leave the imposing place where you were born. You desperately need fresh air.

Near there’s a meadow with empty spaces. It’s just a piece of land that soon would probably serve to build another coliseum.

One thing is noticeable. Sunsets in Rome aren’t carmine… they are mauve. And for some reason, you can’t feel peace.

But you hold tight to your dream. Your happiness is what you’ve prioritized ever since a teenager.

That’s why you hadn’t failed a day to pray to Venus.

Venus, hear me, please. You whose care, throughout all the centuries, the unions of men and their lovers have been placed, what, I pray, have I come to merit? Release me from this uncertainty, gift me a lover, who will warm my heart for eternity. Venus, save me from the hells of my ancestries.

Someone touches your naked shoulder, it makes you gasp in horror.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” someone says. When you turn around, you are facing a man who’s incredibly taller and broader than you. He’s significantly older than you, but he’s graceful. The second he takes to appreciate the sunset as well is your chance to study his profile. Gorgeous classical profile.

“Excuse me, but… Who are you?” you ask, moving aside, leaving his hand that rested on your shoulder in the air. He noticed it.

“General Marcus Acaius… I wondered why a woman was here all alone” you know him. He’s the most successful general your father ever had. He was a concise warrior, even considered a killer.

Somehow, you couldn’t help but find some sweetness in his deep voice. By knowing him for just a second, you felt comfortable by his side.

“I take pleasure in appreciating the sunset…” your soft features intrigued him. You looked slightly different than most of the women he sees in Rome.

“I haven’t appreciated the sky since I was a kid”

“What a shame, General. You would find some peace hidden between the clouds” Your accent was slightly colder than everyone’s. You didn’t have the golden hair that usually meant power. He was infatuated and tremendously interested in the woman he was facing.

“I must know where you come from…” he says, paying attention to your eyes. You smile, touching the little pearls that fall from your pale blue dress.

“I was born here… but circumstances made Alexandria my home. I arrived last night…” his eyes show surprise. He analyzed your bracelets, made of pure gold. You had a leaf crown with tiny sapphires that shimmered around your head. It wasn’t hard to tell who you were.

“majestas… you shouldn’t be here” he mutters and you don’t even flinch.

“I can assure you, General Acaius… I rarely find myself in the position of damsel in distress” he chuckles and you are relieved to see he doesn’t carry a ring around his finger. It was happening so fast, you wanted to know everything about him.

“You may call me Marcus. Except when we are in the presence of your father or brother” you remember you are supposed to marry your brother. But it wasn’t official just yet. And you were quickly falling for this older and gorgeous General.

After a sweet battle or glances, he has to put down his sword. You notice the details and the signs of years of use it has.

“Is this the weapon you master the most?” he nods, noticing the dry blood around the edges.

“Indeed… I learned to wield it before I even went to school” You smile, nervous but eager to throw your next comment. He was speaking very softly towards you. But it was obvious that he was a reserved and serious man.

“I use the spear and axe” Your revelation leaves Marcus surprised. There were very few female gladiators, most of them being treated worse than common slaves. No female in the Roman hierarchy wielded weapons.

“You truly are one of a kind, majestas” As the emperor’s daughter, you weren’t supposed to ever wield a weapon. Contrary to that rule, you were required to learn about politics. In Egypt, you were free.

“Oh, don’t call me that… my name is Y/n”

“Precious name…”

His smile mixed with yours burst in an obvious mutual flirtation. After talking for about two hours, the moon is the only witness in the dark meadows, where Marcus and you kiss until your lips are swollen and he has hydrated him after days of dryness. He promises to keep close to you as his fingers slip under the fabric of your tunic. You swear to welcome his touch no matter what as your hand palmed his girthy length under his heavy armor.

That night both of you seal your fate. That night Marcus Acaius ignites a vivid fire inside your heart.

…

Often, you wondered if candles could run out due to the excessive use of them each night. At least thirty candles are illuminating the place. You patiently wait in the room Marcus had in the Emperor’s palace, seated on the edge of the bed. When the General comes out, he spots you at his resting place. Immediately, you frown at him.

“You said it was a minor injury” There’s a lot of dry blood on his shoulder. He had taken a bath… but the injury was there, uncomfortably lying over his skin.

“It is a minor injury.” He assures, sitting beside you on the bed.

It’s been only a couple of days since you met him… and you are already too keen on him.

“There are no gladiators where I come from. Only warriors… Generals only command their soldiers. We never used weapons as a spectacle”

“I’m starting to believe Egypt is a better place than Rome” you shrug.

“I miss my home. I miss the freedom. I can’t marry Geta…” you admit out loud for the first time. Marcus huffs, he doesn’t have a problem with letting you know he is jealous.

“Right… the wedding.”

“I have to marry him after all. Only that way I could share the title of Empress with him” Marcus sighs tired.

“Am I descending into madness for these strong feelings I have for you?” you turn to look at him. Your hand moves to the end on top of his.

“I look into your eyes… and I feel safe, Marcus” you admit, straddling him. Your fingers trace his beard as you lean to kiss him deeply. He reciprocates and holds your hips steadily.

It’s a wild moment to openly share carnal passion, but neither of you cares. You push him against the feathery pillows and continue kissing. His hair gets tangled around your fingers and his forearms and hands have disappeared under your dress. You start throbbing and he gets hard. But the moment is suddenly interrupted by some footsteps near the room. In a blink of an eye, you get away from Marcus and he stands up from the bed too.

“Use the trail at the end of the hallway. I’ll see you tomorrow, satis” he says, kissing your forehead before you quietly leave his resting place.

Some guards were wandering around the place as usual. You skillfully pass by them, using the trail Marcus told you. But it’s dark and very quiet, not even illuminated by torches. Your sandals barely make a sound against the floors.

So it’s a huge surprise when a hand covers your mouth and the next thing you feel is getting slammed against the wall. It didn’t hurt you but it was violent.

You gasp for air and encounter your half-brother. He has his golden crown and velvet robes, his face almost clean of tints that weren’t his natural skin.

“What were you doing with General Acaius?” You frown.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” his ginger hair is the only thing that shines in the dark trail.

“Quit the lie, soror. Has he made you impure?”

Oh dear brother, if you knew my purity has been gone for many years. But the truth was that Marcus hadn’t claimed you his yet.

“No. And it should not be a matter of importance to you” he chuckles.

Geta isn’t an idiot. He had seen the way Acaius looked at you during dinners. He noticed you came back to rest later than usual. And it was making him boil in anger. His disgust towards you before your arrival was strong. But after you turned to be a delight for his taste, Geta was burning for you.

“Oh, but it is a matter of importance to me. You are my future wife” he says, threatening to seal his lips with yours. The arm that was holding you still sneaked around your waist, applying a little too much pressure.

“Do you think I like the thought of other men touching or even smiling at you?”

Oh… so he was jealous.

His lips gently brush your neck as you set your eyes on the moon, waiting for the moment to be over. His touch is vicious, possessive, and harsh. The trail his lips have followed from your collarbones to your throat ends in your chin, mere inches away from your lips.

“If we can even consider this love… you have an odd way of showing it” he lets you go, the cocky smile on his face never leaving.

“Love or not… you are going to be mine”

“I’m also the heiress of the Emperor. We’ll see about that, Geta.” You spit bitterly, literally running away from him.

You have converted into an enemy for him. And you had to be ready to walk cautiously. Because you had changed your mind. Perhaps you would lose the crown… but weren’t going to marry him.

…

You missed dates so badly, but then the following morning, when a plate of them was included in the morning, you couldn’t resist. You are eating alone. Until the doors open and your father appears followed by two guards.

“Father…” you stand up, making a reverence to him. He smiles, extending his arms to hug you.

“I have wonderful news. We’ve arranged an encounter for you to demonstrate your abilities in combat” You are extremely confused.

“What?” Your father sighs, breaking the hug.

“I’m aware you performed in celebrations back in Alexandria. This is just the perfect opportunity to show the senate and council you are a prepared lady to receive the title of Empress one day…”

“Father… as much as I appreciate the intention. I’ve performed as a way to train for battle; gods forbid us from having to go to war, but… here, your soldiers and slaves fight for the mere feeling of feeding the greediness of hierarchy. I can’t do that…”

You weren’t a target for the empire to show off. You were more than just a woman with the ability to carry a weapon. You valued your freedom. And ever since arriving in Rome, day by day, you feel that you keep slipping away from it.

“The decision is taken. Heavens know why but the official announcement of your engagement with Geta remains being delayed. Hence, I won’t turn the Senate and council against me when there's no need. I may only wish you good luck, dear” You remember Marcus. He could have voted against the encounter. He was the General.

Suddenly you are bursting in anger, making the coldest reverence to your father as he leaves.

Your angry steps lead your way to Marcus. You found him taking a rest on a nearby balcony. When he spots you, his smile vanishes.

“You couldn’t impede that brainless idea of me participating in a combat?” Marcus has to sigh, placing his hands on his hips. He was expecting your anger to be honest.

“I couldn’t say no. If it did, they would suspect. I already have your brother behind my back all the time” You can fight him because he’s right. But it doesn’t dissipate your anger.

“You are going to be fine. I may be able to arrange the rules. I can choose the gladiator that will fight you, but your father and brother have the last word. What weapon do you want to use?”

“The spear…” he nods.

“Female gladiators tend to wield the bow and sword. You can easily disarm her…” you are not scared, you are just frustrated.

“Teach me the methods warriors use here…” you mutter. Marcus nods, taking your hand and giving an apologetic look.

“You will win, my dear.” His fingers place some strands of your hair behind your ear, it melts your anger and transforms it into peace. You want to scream how much you desire him. But you must retain your feelings given the hatred days you were living.

“Let me thank you for the training in advance, General,” you say, getting on your knees.

“Good girl…” Marcus whispered as soon as your tongue started working on him.

…

The usual crowd in the Colosseum couldn’t be compared with the amount of screams and cheers from the people watching the emperor’s daughter fighting one of the greatest female gladiators in Rome; Calista.

The sandy floors were covered in an elegant tapestry that marked the square where the show was occurring.

You are sweating, there's blood running down your chin and you can’t breathe correctly. Calista was ordered not kill you, but for some reason, she seemed to be personally trying to knock you out.

She had a helmet and armor in gold and red. But it was hard to deny everyone was invested in the attire you wore. A golden mask of Neith, the god of war that covered your face and a gold vest and bare shoulders. Everyone thought you were insane for that.

You remember all the things Marcus told you. Soon after your father started the encounter, you learned gladiators were blinded by the necessity of seeing blood on their rival instead of following a technique of combat.

Calista’s sword is sharp enough to give you a long cut by the movement of a soft swatch. You yelp in pain and she kicks your ribs, making you fall to your knees.

Marcus stands worried from his seat, but he soon returns to his place after making eye contact with Geta, who sends daggers with his eyes. Marcus understood your brother was insane when he disapproved of the gladiator he had chosen. Geta picked the most sanguinary and violent warrior to fight you.

Marcus couldn’t do anything. But he was impressed by your skills. He sighed with joy everytime you slipped from Calista’s touch. Even your father was displaying a face of proud.

But it’s not the same for you. You enter in panic, knowing you are at full mercy, almost dropping your spare. Your father is about to stop the encounter. The crowd is impossibly louder. You want to throw up. The sweat mixed with nausea, the cold air of the night, and the dryness in your throat are too much to handle. But you refuse to lose. With the sharp edge of the spare, you cut Calista’s calf. She’s startled, ready to strike back when your leg pushes her on her back. The heavy sword she carries makes a loud noise. Her skull crushes against the floor. It gives you enough time to stand, place your foot in her throat and point the spare against her forehead, ending the encounter.

The cheers are disgustingly excessive. But you’re done. You did what your father asked. You take off the mask and look at your brother in anger. Geta offers you a fake smile. He was surprised to see you were able to slip away, from his evil plans, from defying your father.

You offer your hand to Calista, but she refuses. She looks like she wants to kill you. But she only reverences your family and leaves.

Everything is forgotten when you set your eyes on Marcus. You want to smile and run to his side. He sees you with adoration. He sees the reincarnation of Psyche in you. A woman who Marcus swears it’s even more graceful than Venus and Persephone themselves.

Marcus Acaius makes a decision; He must marry you.

…

After a banquet, your bones and muscles ache with each movement you make, but you run towards Marcus. You need to see him after such a long day. He waits for you in the secure spot of the farthest tower. His light robes and leaf crown are securely dressing him when you spot him. The gold in his attire matches your bronze bracelets and indigo dress.

He’s the man you desire. He’s the man that had offered you a real demonstration of affection. He wasn’t trying to manhandle you like everyone before did. It’s more than enough to make you think your prayers to Venus have worked. You collide in his chest, giggling.

“I love you”

Both of you say at the same time. It leaves you shocked. Marcus smiles and you have to kiss him to believe it’s real.

“I promise you… we’ll be together” you nod dying out of happiness. He kisses you back and you feel you want to cry out of happiness.

What feels like a second was an hour of kissing.

And Geta was able to witness some of that time. Drowning in a monstrous wave of jealousy, he ran towards the Emperor to accuse you of adultery. But it was too late, your father was out of the city for the rest of the day. Geta is beyond enraged with the news. So he sends part of his father’s cabinet to a brothel, hoping his evil plan would work.

Later, when he finds you going towards the garden, he fastens his pace to harshly grab your forearms and stop you.

“That General is no good for you.” He spits with disgust as you squirm away from his touch.

“Neither are you” you fireback, stepping backwards.

“Go find him. You should know he just uses you to have our father’s approval. So I insist you, go find him and see what kind of man he is after you leave his bed” You raise your hand ready to slap him, but you don’t. You simply turn away and keep walking.

Geta’s words echo through your mind. You question him, valuing the honesty of his words. Marcus was a man after all. There wasn’t a perfect man nor a perfect woman, but you liked to believe there was still good in the hearts of the people.

Perhaps Marcus would be disappointed by your mistrust. But the uncertainty of his loyalty was something you couldn’t risk.

That night, you go out in a linen cloak, hunting the man you love. The guards won’t know you went out prowling around the city.

It’s late, but not for the city. Although is not crowded, there are a lot of people in the market. You let yourself wander across the place. There’s handmade stuff that women and kids sell. It makes you think about power and how not all of the people had it. If you ever became Empress, you wanted to see a prosperous and bright city. You want to ensure them with security and peace. You want to get rid of eccentric stuff, including gladiators.

The sound of music along with laughter draws your attention to a specific place. At first glance, you think it’s a tavern. But as your feet made it to the entrance, you gasped in shock. There are more men compared to women. The females are scattered around the place. Some feed grapes to men. Others dance and use their bodies to charm. All of them have their chests bare, showing their breasts and silver bracelets. It shocks you to see some of the females naked, kissing between groups of four or more and almost fucking them at the sight of everyone. The wine smells cheap, the whole place smells like sweat and sex combined.

You see from afar a large table of men. Your eyes look at the head of the table and it causes a great mix of confusion and intrigue. Because it’s your Marcus who’s seated with those men. He talks and looks seriously intimidating with his sword resting on the table. Your heart starts racing as a woman gets closer. She raises her hand to touch him. Marcus turns to look at the woman. She has short blonde hair, pale skin, and purple fabric that barely covers her body. Your eyes water at the sight. Your lover, who promised find the way to be with you hours ago is there, surrounded by naked women and you can hear him cursing. When the blonde woman is about to sit in his lap, you leave the place running away. There’s not even time to tear yet, you are completely covered in shock and disgust.

Soon you are back. You gasp for air, opening the doors of the place you call home. Two guards let you enter and you throw your cloak to the floor. When you look at the end of the long hallway, you spot Geta talking with his counselor. At the sigh of you, he indicates the man to leave. You want to leave him behind so bad, you avoid his eyes but it’s his voice that stops you.

“I told you so…” he says with an evil smile.

“Be quiet…” his laugh is loud and it angers you more.

“He doesn’t care about you. Acaius only cares for power. He could never love you-“

“SILENCE!”

You push him towards the granite bench behind and he is taken aback.

Even more when you lean to smash your lips with his.

It’s disgusting. There’s no care, only two individuals fighting for control in the lips of each other. Even the beetroot juice you applied hours ago has transferred to your chin and Geta’s. His hand is resting with pressure on your nape, and you slightly pull his hair, making him groan before kissing you even harder.

Just when you are about to sit in his lap, you stop. You look at him in horror. There’s no way you just kissed him. That you almost succumbed to his touch. But you remember Marcus with that woman. What were you doing?

Geta sees you quietly crying before standing up from the bench and watching you bolt.

You run to the meadows. The place where everything began. And at that moment, you realized you had completely failed.

Fighting in that encounter with Calista for what? Unnecessary approval of men who would surely die before you birthed your first child.

You pleased your father to live in peace for what? To carry the weight of a narcissistic brother and a traitor lover.

Your prayers were in vain. The love you wanted to find was over before it even started. Because it wasn’t real. You should’ve stayed back in Egypt. Maybe you should have married Geta on the first day. At least whatever he did to hurt you would have a payback. But with Marcus, it resulted in an excruciating pain that you had never felt before. Which makes you feel so ignorant and brainless. All that ego your mother had helped you build collapsed at that moment. You just wished for a remedy. Which for sure didn’t exist. But there must be a way, to make everyone feel at least a drop of what you have.

—————————————————————

part two or what? (Literally didn’t add the part I wrote for the sneak peak lol)

taglist: @drewharrisonwriter @my-dearest-agent @yellowheartz @spookyxsam @natasharomanoffsmotorcycle @uncassettodiricordi @kluvspedritooo @littleblackcatinwonderland

#pedro pascal x reader #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #gladiator 2 #joseph quinn x reader #emperor geta #emperor geta x reader

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commandershepardvasfuckit · 22 days ago

Text

An Arranged Marriage, part 24

1.2k words

Things may have not gone to plan, but you finally felt close to Zen.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

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A warm fire crackled in the hearth as you sat on Zen’s lap, both still naked. He was warming up the food he had brought home for dinner and you did not want to separate from him when he had gotten up from the bed. You cuddled against his chest while he reached around you to place everything at the edges of the hearth to warm up.

“Aren’t you cold just sitting on the floor?” you asked.

“Not with the hearth lit, and you are keeping me warm” he gave you a quick nuzzle.

A new layer of comfort had settled between the two of you, no barriers remained. Things did not exactly go as planned, but that hardly mattered now. All that remained now was room to grow.

Zen handed you food as it was ready, minced meat and vegetables wrapped in some sort of pastry, while he hummed his usual song.

“You got home early today” you pointed out to him.

“Bira came by and told me I needed to go home and check on something.”

“And you still stopped for food on the way home?”

“It did not seem like an emergency and we still need to eat” he shrugged.

You could not help but laugh a bit. Both Bira and Ba’tual had pointed out a few times that Zen used to skip meals most days, too caught up in everything else to take care of himself. It was not that he looked scrawny or anything when you first met, but now that he was eating well and sleeping through the night he sure did look a lot healthier.

He kept an arm wrapped around you to hold you close while he ate too, which was cozy, though you did have a complaint.

“You’re getting crumbs in my hair” you said and tried to brush them off.

“And I will help you get them out after too” he said.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence at the hearth for a while, Zen’s tusks tapped against the sides of your head while he tried to kiss the top of your head. With the sun starting to set the familiar chill started to set in.

“How about I run a hot bath for us?” Zen offered as if reading your mind.

You nodded against his chest and let him pick you up. Even from this awkward angle with you siting on his lap he lifted you with ease.

The warm water of the bath felt good against your cool skin while Zen washed your hair, getting the crumbs out as promised. Between the feeling of him purring while you leaned back against his chest and him playing with your hair you could have easily fallen asleep like that.

“You look comfortable” Zen said.

“I am” you answered.

“I like that, I like that you are comfortable here and around me” he said as he helped rinse the shampoo from your hair.

“Did you ever plan on getting married, like in general?” you asked.

“I have planned on very few things in my life, things just happen and I pray that they work out.”

“Like this?”

“Like this” he repeated, “And I am very happy things are working out. But you expected to marry, right?”

“I did, and when I was little my family did come to an agreement with another family that if their son could make a name for himself and climb the ranks in the royal navy I would be promised to him.”

“And you were alright with that?”

“It’s just life. He’s from a good family so it would have been a good match” you shrugged.

“Am I a good match?”

You had not put much thought into it truthfully, no more thought than that you were marrying someone who was not human. “Well, you’re a representative on the king’s council and the avatar of a god, so technically I might have married above my station.”

“And that is a good thing?” he asked cautiously.

“Technically this is a very good marriage for me.”

“Technically?”

“Yes, in theory this is a good marriage for me because I married up. But honestly you’re just a really good husband Zen.”

He wrapped his arms around you tightly and pulled you as close as he could without crushing you, “I am trying to be” he said against the side of your head.

You stayed entwined in the tub until the water started to cool. Zen got out first to dry off and relight the hearth to make sure the main room was warm enough for you before coming back to help you out of the tub and dry off.

He tucked you into bed, pulling the covered over you both and then pulled you on top of his chest. His hands were warm on the bare skin of your back while he absentmindedly rubbed your back and occasionally nuzzled his jaw against the top of your head.

It was always just calm being with him. Zen was never in a hurry with anything, well except for earlier. Earlier when he could not keep his hands off of you. Earlier when he eagerly undressed you. When he pressed against you and grinded against you. How direct and needy he was.

You leaned up to kiss his neck and he happily tilted his head to the side to let you reach better. His pulse was strong just under his skin and soft against your lips. By the time you had reached to nip along his jaw he was softly moaning and his hands had traveled down from your back down to your hips so he could really pull you close.

“And what are you up to my lovely wife?” he asked and you could feel the vibrations from his purring.

You did not answer, but instead reached up to pull his hair, making him bare more of his throat to you.

“You are so pushy for such a little thing, I like it” he chuckled.

At this point you were straddling his chest with how far up you had scooted to reach him. The vibrations from his purring were going straight to your clit and only encourage you to grind against him. You had been so ready earlier, so wet and excited to feel his thick cock fill you now that you were ready. It had been so disappointing when you had to stop that afternoon, the first few inches had felt incredible before he got to be too much.

“Are we picking back up from earlier then?” he asked.

“I want you” was all you could manage.

He tilted your face up so you could see him and gave you such a smirk, “Good, because all I have been able to think about for the last few hours was you riding me until you scream my name and then claiming you properly.”

His words made your cunt clench around nothing, a fire lit in your belly at the thought of him claiming you.

“Get on your back” he panted in your ear, “I am going to make sure that you are ready for me this time.”

--------

Part 25

Tag list

@blushycadaver @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @graveblanketgreen @lets-imagineastory @emonatural191 @lovingbadguys @after-laughter-come-tears @plathsotherib @krayziee @zaqnette @mochalyluv @nogoatsnoglori (doesn’t want to let me tag mocha or nogoats)

#monster fucker #monster lover #teratophillia #terato #monster x reader #monster smut #monster husband #monster boyfriend

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shysuccubusstuff · 6 months ago

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moon god! xavier

Content: Dubcon/con, "religious" theme, belly bulge, aftercare, half snake xavier.

Context: You became the next wife for the moon God, most wives just help him to take care of his mortal body, but what if he got a special attraction for his new sweet and beautiful wife?...

Note: I'm thinking about doing one of these for each of them, would you like that? + Reposts and comments are truly appreciated!!

You were chosen by the whole village to become the next wife of the moon god that was worshiped at your village, getting all ready for him. The night the marriage took place, your face was glowing, almost as if the moonlight was kissing your pretty face. Just as soon as the bells ringed all through the village, the moonlight turned into a young man, his skin was as pale as the moon that shined that night. His hair glowed, shimmering as if it was made of the finest silver in the world, his eyes were blue, a deep gaze met yours. The young man kneeled, just as he had done five years ago with his previous wife, he took your hand, his skin as cold as ice. Because of the long time of waiting, your legs gave up, almost making you fall against him, luckily, his hands took you from your waist, his gaze meeting yours. The village was filled with joyfullness as they noticed how a silvery thread appeared in your wrist, the symbol of the moon wives. Soon, the moon god took you, lifting you up in his harms and quickly taking you to the mountain in which he had been living. As soon as he let you go, his expression relaxed, taking off the mask that had been covering part of his face.

"I'm sorry for having to take you from your village, the villagers keep doing this each five years despite I have already told them there is no need. You can go if you want, I will provide you a place to stay until the five years end." You kept looking at his face, almost as beautiful as the best piece of art, his lips glimered thanks to the small rays of moonlight that shined through the windows. "Are you ok?" You quickly snapped out of it, closing your fists and preparing what you were going to say.

"I... I don't plan on leaving until I have fulfilled my duty, sir." His frown furrowed a little, perhaps because of the confusion you had caused him.

"I really won't do anything to the village nor to you, I swear it." He kept pushing, perhaps as he was accustommed to the wives leaving him soon after the ceremony took place.

"I've been getting ready for this for over a year, I won't be backing from my destiny." His eyes twinkled, looking completely surprised with your decission. Despite that, he simply noded, taking off his ceremonial clothes and leaving them on top of the counter. He slowly got closer to you, taking your hand and kissing the top of your hand.

"I go by the name of Xavier, I promise to act as a proper husband for as long as we are together." After saying that, he let go of your hand, walking to the nearby bedroom and closing the door behind him. Well, this was definitely something.

As time went on, your relationship started to get warmer, first it was simply saying good night the days you encountered each other in the kitchen, his eyes still a bit drowsy from sleeping, as he woke up each night to work. Then, this good nights moved to small gestures, a soft hand caressing your face, your hand on his chest as he tried to crack a joke despite his unability to do so. Finally, you took all your courage to do it, on your tip toes, you gave him a single kiss on the cheek, just before running away to your room as you avoid tripping with your slippers. This small physical gesture escalated to more, of course, starting by giving each other's hand at random times of the day, as he started to wake up just to be with you a bit more (of course he wouldn't say it straight up to you), saying that the temperature was making him sleep worse, or that he got up because he suddenly got hungry (his body didn't even need to eat). This "human" urges he began to felt as he spent more time interacting with you only worsened as his... affection grew stronger. Getting the tip of his ears a bit flushed when you approached far too close to him, making him lose sleep just thinking about how pretty you looked that day while visiting the little village that you were born in... even feeling jealous when your "childhood friend" suddenly approached you, his arms surrounding you in a tight embrace while he lifted you as if you were a princess. He would have lied if he had said that he didn't mind the great bond you seemed to share with him.

It wasn't until a few days after, one of those moonless nights in which Xavier was free from work that you found him. He had been locked inside his bedroom the whole day, not answering even when you called him to eat something, so when you finally mustered all your courage to enter his room, you were definitely not prepared for the view.

His voiced sounded a bit raspy, still muffled from all the clothes that were hiding him. He had made some kind of... nestle? Some of your clothes were laying around, while others were his. You tried to get closer to him, quietly avoiding any thing that could startle him, but he suddenly shifted under the sheets: "...is that you? I... I think you should leave for now, I don't want you to see me like this." Despite his soft voice, you decided to move even closer, sitting on the bed close to him, feeling his warmth through the soft duvet. In took a few minutes, but Xavier finally started to uncover himself, then you finally saw it. Xavier was turning back to his "god" form, having scales all over his arms, while his canines had turned in actual fangs. His face was a bit flushed, maybe because of the fever caused from the transformation. "I bet you think I look hideous... don't you?" You quickle denied it, taking his rough hands between yours and kissing his knucles, his face turning even redder from the unexpected sign of affection. "I thought it would have something to do with this... Remember I prepared for the whole bride thing for over a year, this was to be expected." His gaze fixed on your calm expression, which finally allowed him to feel less tense, loosing him his grip, taking your hand and letting you lie to his side. "You smell so nice... just like as if I was surrounded by nature, this fresh smell is so hard to come by nowadays." Xavier kept his head close to your neck, slowly smelling the refresing scent that came from you. Despite the funny feeling that he was causing, you decided to stay there, your body still a bit stiff from the extremely close contact. "Did they teach you what is supposed to happen now...?" Xavier's voice was much deeper than before, almost sounding like the purring of a cat, his lips had gotten even closer to your neck. You were only able to slowly nod, playing with your fingers as your face flushed even more. Suddenly, his soft lips kissed your skin, his hands moved to your hips, keeping you in place as he got to do what he pleased to you. It was finally at the moment when his whole body was no longer under the bunch of clothes that you noticed how he was completely naked, his milky skin glowing under the beautiful moonlight.

"Let's give our best to become a proper marriage, yeah?..." He whispered to you, just while he untied your bow, allowing your clothes to fall off.

Everything had became a blurr, Xavier was suddenly on top of you, his bigger frame almost covering the moon that shined at the window. He had been kissing your body for several minutes, sometimes giving it small bites or timid licks, others, he sucked on your skin, making small love bites with the hope of marking you completely as his. His hands slowly moved toward your chest, playing with your nipples as his other hand started to go down, reaching your lower half. Xavier smiled as he saw you quivering from his touch, making his heart beat faster as you kept looking at him with those pretty eyes, almost begging to be devoured by him.

"You...you can do it, Xavier." Your voice filled the empty room, almost making his heart explode, did you really love him like he did? He kissed your forehead, allowing himself to give you as many kisses as he wanted, not holding back as he had been forced to do for the past months.

"I...I love you, not as a god, but as me, Xavier, a mere human." Your heart was pounding against your chest, was Xavier able to hear it? You simply put your hands on his face, getting him closer to you and leaving a soft kiss against his lips. When you both got away, you were able to see the face of Xavier slightly red, something strange, as he was mostly expressionless. Without losing more time, Xavier got you completely naked, throwing your clothes to the floor and letting your body lay on the bed. He took each of your legs, spreading him and getting him to be in between them, his face got closer to that place, almost making you die from embarrasment. Despite how much you wanted to push him away, your embarrasment was quickly melted away, being now filled with desire as he kept playing with your clot, sucking on it and licking it, while his hands started to prepare your body to take him. His long tongue was almost making you cry from the overstimulation, head too foggy to be able to form a cohesive sentence.

Xavier's tongue kept playing with you until you were almost far too close to passing out, not stopping even when tears were already falling down your cheeks, nor when you kept babbling and pleading for him to let your pretty pussy alone. Just as you were about to pass out, his strong arms took you, sitting you on his lap. He caressed your soft body, moving his hands all over your hips, and kissing your shoulder. You were only able to surround him with your arms, still too far gone to even notice how Xavier was trying his best not to shove both of his cocks inside you. "Dear, are you ok? I'll put just one, is that right? I don't want you to remember your first time as unpleasant." Just like he said, his cock slowly entered you, making your eyes roll backwards while your sorry cunt was trying to get it to fit. Xavier's arms tightened around you, making it as if you were barely able to breath. He stayed there for a few seconds, not moving until you were finally a bit more comfortable with his length, slowly moving his hips as you started to accommodate around it. The rhythm slowly increased, moving you up and down as if you had become some kind of doll, Xavier's hips slowed down sometimes, kissing your lips and peppering soft kisses all over your face, his hand sometimes cleaned the small tears that fell from your tears as he stretched your sorry cunt.

The slight friction quickly turned into pure pleasure, as he kept plunging against your G-spot, making your eyes roll backwards, with your nails digging on his back while your mouth kept opening, letting all those sinful noises leak, good thing there were no neighbours to listen and complain... This sweet torture kept going even despite you had already came around his length for over four times, leavivng your cunt all overstimulated and sore. By the time Xavier pulled out, his essence was already deep carved into you, slipping slowly from your insides, although Xavier kept trying to keep it inside you, using his fingers to put it back inside. After letting you rest for a few minutes, as you dozed off, he took your naked body, taking you to the big tub in the bathroom and filling it with warm water, cleaning your pretty body inside and out, then moving on to soaping your scalp, avoiding any soap dripping towards your face. After he finished cleaning you, he took you back to his bed, letting you lay on the comfortable sofa as he changed the sheets and tied the bed, finally letting you sleep on the clean bed kissing your forehead before he went back to the bathroom to take care of himself.

#xavier #lnds xavier #love and deep space #x reader #fanfiction #smut #lnds imagine #xavier love and deepspace #fanfic #xavier imagines #xavier headcanons #lads xavier #xavier x reader

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eydi-andrius · 2 years ago

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Agape

Agape is the kind of love that is felt by a person willing to do anything for another

cw/tw: dark!reader, lowborn (undisclosed) noble reader, delusions, heartbreak, character death, graphic description of death, deception, manipulation, implied sexual content, story is soooooo long and tags are not exhausted. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!!

pairings: aemond targaryen x reader

a/n: i was thinking about writing for a dark reader for a while now but i have trashed this story for like so many times. but i felt so bad throwing it away since it was technically done. SO I hope you all like this one hehe

As always, thank you for your support. I appreciate any comments and reblogs. It motivates me and makes my day hehe

summary: the heartbreak of someone lead to the death of another

~~~~~~~~

“Gods! Would you stop fiddling?” Aegon groaned in frustration as he massaged his temple. The way his brows knit together confirmed that he must have drunk too much again. His face was much paler than it usually was and his silver hair was messy and all over his face.

Concerned, you gave the water you had with you and your nose scrunched in disgust when you caught a whip of his smell. He smells like alcohol and sweat. It is now noon, but he seems like he has woken up.

“Don’t give me that look. I would never come to this god forsaken place if you did not invite me.”

You swallowed your contempt and did your best not to roll your eyes in front of the eldest prince. He calls the library the god forsaken place because Aemond stays here to read. Although today, he was practicing the sword with Ser Criston Cole. You truly do not understand how he treats his younger brother like a twat when all his life, Aemond had to do his all to cover up for Aegon’s shortcomings.

“I never thought you would care.”

And you are only here because you were afraid of the Queen finding out that you were drunk again and left Helaena alone during dinner.You kept your mouth shut and made sure not to follow with the words you have for him. You indeed asked him to come here and insulting someone you wished to help will only give you a hard time.

Instead, you cleared your throat and you heard him tutting in annoyance as his lilac eyes stared at you.

This bastard truly acts as if you owe him something. You still do not understand how Aemond became so perfect in what he does and his oldest brother is this useless.

You breathed deeply and smiled, the sweetest as you could, before you opened your mouth to speak.

“Tell me who was chosen to be Aemond’s bride.” You held his eyes with determination. It took a while as you two stared back at each other until he laughed with mirth. His voice boomed at the corners of the room and he was gasping for air as he did his best to compose himself.

“Ha!.....You called me….in here….in secret…..to ask me about something like this?” He was holding his stomach as he continued laughing. Tears were even coming out of his eyes in amusement.

“I……did.” You bit your lip, unsure. Maybe you should have relied on bribing the servants. You cannot help but feel stupid. The danger of Aemond knowing you were asking about his marriage was more of a threat to you than being with Aegon.

“Silly girl.” He laughed a bit more before he collapsed on the chair he was sitting at. He was laying there comfortably, staring at the ceiling.

“You put yourself in danger by meeting with me in secret instead of asking my brother about his betrothal. Do you know what the people would call you if they found out you were alone with an adulterous prince? A whore.” He said as a matter of truth, still not looking at you.

You know the danger you put yourself into. It was not as if you did not try to ask Aemond. You did. Many times. Many tries. Somehow, somewhat, he evaded your questions. So you bribed his servants but none of them knew who it was. But they promised they would tell you as soon as they heard news of her name. You trusted them, not because of the payment you have given them, but because you grew up in the castle with these people. You can trust them, right?

Until you caught word of the purpose of his last flight with Vhagar. Words claimed that he went to meet his chosen betrothed that day. No news was delivered to you from the servants. When you tried to confront them, they would give you excuses and reasons. No one can even look you in the eyes. You felt betrayed and alone. All of them had turned their backs on you.

“I know the danger I put myself into. But no matter how many times I ask, no one can tell me the truth. All I wanted to know was who she was.” You gasped in surprise when your voice cracked, laced with pain. You swallowed and did your best not to look at Aegon whose head was now risen and eyes directed at you.

Silence was loud between the two of you. He was just staring. Out of habit, you fiddled with your fingers. An act you do when you are nervous. An act hated by your family. It was more than annoying, it often left your fingers wounded. A noble lady destroying her soft hands was something not wanted. But was tolerated by Aemond. No, most of the time, he would hold your hand to stop you from picking the skin out of your fingers. And you would feel the heat crawling on your face. The blood rushing to your cheeks. His calloused hands were warm and comforting.

You were woken up by your reverie when Aegon’s chair scraped the floor and he stood up. You sat still and was waiting for him to leave when he stopped beside you. You felt his large hand pat your hair. As if comforting you. You looked up and met his eyes.

In anger, you slapped his hand away from your hair and he only gave a deep sigh. He continued walking past you and was half-way opening the huge mahogany doors, when he stopped midway. Licking his lips, he spoke.

He looked at you with pity. You did not like that. Being given a look of pity from the most pitiful person in this castle is much more insulting than being a low rank noble. It disgust you because you know you were far better than Aegon. How could he?

“It was a Baratheon girl.” Then slammed the door shut. His footfalls echoes outside and slowly fades away. The sound of the door closing was ringing in your ears while his words spiraled inside your head.

A Baratheon girl……..How could you even be on par with her?

Warm tears run down your cheeks and you close your eyes to calm yourself. You had seen this coming but you still dreamt of the day he would ask for your hand. Foolish imaginations of a life with Aemond and happily being together, full with his child. You thought that your love for him would be enough for him to forget his obligation as a prince and he will choose to marry you.

You were a fool for thinking he would choose you and turn his back on his duties as a prince.

You should have known better.

After many times he had rejected you.

Especially after that night.

The rain poured heavily on your face, almost painful, and it soaked your light green dress.Yet, you still chose to stand on the place where you asked; begged Aemond to meet you. One last time. You told yourself.

You sent him a letter which contains an apology and a chance to talk to him again. The hands holding your dress grasped the satin, nails digging on your skin, as you tried your best not to cry.

You wore this beautiful dress because you noticed how his eyes linger more whenever you have this dress on. But now, it was soaking wet and the feather light fabric hugged your body heavily. It feels disgusting.

The loud crackle of thunder spook you from where you were standing and that was what made the dam break. You silently cried and stood in the same spot, you have been standing about for hours.

You don’t even know if your body was shaking from the cold or from the agony of losing your closest confidant. Of losing Aemond by admitting to him that you have been in love with since forever. It was a foolish move to stop him from seeking a highborn noble lady’s hand in marriage.

It was cold that day, you were in panic and not thinking straight, when you ran up to where he was, admitted your feelings, and kissed him with no consent.

It was vivid how his face contorted from shock into rage. You have never seen him so furious. His eyes darkened when he pushed you away and your heart broke in a million pieces when he roughly scrubbed the back of his hand on his lips. An act of trying to erase what you did. He was your first and you were sure, you were his first kiss too.

His voice boomed when he raised his head and ordered you to leave. Scared, you did not think twice, running away from him. Since then, you have never seen him again. The areas he used to walk by were changed. And you know it was to lessen his encounter with you.

Everyday, you felt like a knife was stabbed within you and someone was slowly turning it around to deepen the cut. Everyone who knew and accepted that you were inseparable with Aemond keeps asking what happened. They never caught a glimpse of him around you for days and that was new to them. There were times that even though Aemond was busy, he would find a way just to have tea with you in the afternoon. They were curious about what changed. But you knew better.

In the Red Keep, only vultures live. They wanted to know what you did to the point of losing the prince’s favor.

They act as if you do not hear the whispers and speculations. Still you kept your mouth shut or sometimes fed them with lies to stop the sound surrounding you.

You gritted your teeth as you force yourself to smile as you lie on their faces. They nod as if understanding but once they thought you would not hear them, they will start to snicker followed by an insulting remark. The grins on their lips were wide and evil.

How you pray everyday that these ladies be blessed with no fruit and be thrown away for being useless by the very people they thought cared about them.

Your evil thoughts vanished when a heavy cloth was draped over your head. You looked up with surprise and came face to face with the second prince. His hair is a mess and he was wearing his dragon gear. Later, you would realize that he draped his robe over your head. His black gloves gripping the side of his robe to make sure it will not fall.

“Don’t you dare speak!” He yelled and you flinched from the volume of his voice. You closed your gaping mouth and swallowed. It tasted like salt and you know the rain water was mixed with your tears.

He then proceeded on getting a parchment from his pocket and the familiar paper was raised on his hand.

“I was not in King's Landing the whole day. What do you think would happen to you if I did not go home and see this letter!?” He screamed at the top of his lungs and all you could do was stare at him. You don’t even know if it was tears running down your face as you look at him. You haven’t seen him for a long time and you miss him.

No servants wanted to share his whereabouts so you assumed he would be at the castle. You were lucky that he went back home.

Delighted to see him, you did not hesitate to wrap your arms around his neck. You were elated that he went right away once he had gotten your letter. You were still important to him and that made your heart sing with joy.

You pulled him out of the hug and held his hands, with a wide grin you shared with him your plans. He must have been worried sick and dying too without seeing you for a while. You were sure he would agree to what you have for him today.

“I’ve heard in passing that you were looking for a bride. I could be your lady wife and you could be my lord husband. I will always be loyal to you. And I am also the first to taste your lips and you with mine so I think this would be a marvelous idea!”

A grin was plastered on your lips as you talked to him. But he only stared at you. Then, a dark look passed through his face but you were too happy to see it.

You grimaced when you felt his hold on your hands tightened. His grip was bruising and intent to hurt.

“A-Aemond… you’re hurting me.” You tried to pull away your hand but instead, he pulled you forward. You stumbled, inches closer to him when he opened his mouth and told you something. Even with the rain and the chaos, you heard him clear as a sunny day.

“I cannot marry you. You are a lowborn noble. My family needed power which you will not be able to provide. Let the bond which we first had be the same. You are still my friend. My loyal confidant. Do not ruin it.” After staring for a while, he left you dumbfounded, standing in the rain.

His straightforward, emotion voided words, echoed throughout your head.

He has no use of you.

Your legs weakened and you fell on the ground. Staring at the pitter patter of the rain, his words stabbed you deeply and you fainted from the shock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You refused to go out of your chambers as his betrothal was officially announced. The people cheered. Even the servants were excited about the upcoming wedding of the second prince. But you know that everyone was just looking forward to the feast and freedom they would experience during their wedding day.

Meanwhile, the noble ladies were enthusiastic to meet nobles across the land who would visit to see this wedding. The days after the announcement was a torture for your heart. Although, you did your best to appear unaffected and happy for him.

Of course, there were rumors and insults thrown your way after the news, however, you did not let them in the mask you created. To save yourself and the only connection he had offered to you.

At the moment, you choose to be in your room to lessen having conversation with anyone. After the confrontation, you have been sick, fever barely going down for days. During those days, you never saw Aemond visit you. He probably chooses not to so he will not be sick, or that’s what you told yourself.

A sound of knocking caught your attention. You were confused because your servant went out and will be back for a while. If it was a visitor, you were in no mood to pretend and smile.

“I am not feeling well. I will go out some other time.” You shouted at whoever was at your door. Sometimes, some noble ladies or even servants knock at your door to check on you and invite you to go out. However, you refused them for two days now. The shock about the news was still fresh in your mind and you cannot process the pain you were suffering. They will never understand.

“My dear. ‘Tis I Alicient. May I come in?” With a jolt, you stood up and gasped, looking at the door. You did your best to fix your messy hair and straightened your days old chemise. When nothing happened, you decided to cover yourself with a shawl.

“I am going in.” She announced before she pushed the door open and you curtsied immediately. The motion made your head throb but the shock about the Queen’s visit was far greater than what you were feeling.

“Oh dear! Why are you up? You shouldn’t have. You are sick! Look at your pale face. You look so much thinner than when I last saw you.” She worriedly went over to you and held your hand, guiding you towards the nearest seat. You heard the door closed and you assumed that it must be Criston who decided to wait outside due to the status of your undress. You are an unwed lady and no man should see you looking like this.

The Queen fussed over you. You don’t even know how long until you end up sitting in front of your vanity while she brushes your hair then braids it. It was quiet for a while until she finally opened her mouth to speak.

“I know that you might not be feeling well but I needed to talk to you about an important responsibility I wish for you to accept.” You gulped when she started talking about why she was here. Alicient is a sweet woman but you have been here far too long to pretend a Queen will visit your chamber just to check how you have been. Even her own daughter Helaena doesn’t like her visits.

“The girl will be in need of a lady in waiting. And I knew Aemond had trusted you more than he trusted anyone in the palace. This position will also help your status in Red Keep and in this way, Aemond and his lady wife would be surrounded by their loyal subjects.” She finished as she tied your hair and she looked back at you in the mirror. She must have taken your surprise as a positive reaction and so she smiled.

“Fortnight, the wedding of Aemond will be held.” The eyes that had been staring at your fiddling hands, looked at her from the mirror. She is still focused on braiding your hair. Your mouth opens and closes from shock. That was way too fast. His wedding was announced days ago, yes, but he is no king that needed to be wed as soon as possible.

“We need people around us to whom we can trust. I know I can trust you. Please accept the offer for you and Aemond’s future, dear.” It was impossible that she did not hear about the rumors floating around about you and Aemond. So the fact that she was here to ask you, confirmed that she had spoken to Aemond and he denied any form of feelings for you aside from being his closest friend. With a forced smile, you accepted her offer and she gladly embraced you.

It’s not as if you have a choice either.

Being a lady in waiting for the second prince’s wife would boost your status and will also help your family. Other ladies deserve this position more than you but the Queen personally asking you to take the position, will solidify your status more than those other ladies.

She gave you one last sweet smile before she tiptoed and kissed your forehead. The action surprised you a bit but Alicient had treated you like her daughter too throughout your childhood. She had wished for you to get well soon and eat a lot so you would recover fast before she left.

Finally, alone to mourn another happy announcement.

~~~~~~~~

The ceremony was a blur.

The crowd cheered and they wished the newly wife and husband a happy marriage as you stood behind them as they waved to the crowd.

The feast tasted nothing and you did your task as they have taught you. Your body automatically helped out the bride to her needs throughout the day.

The whole day, Aegon looks miserable as he was not allowed to drink and be wasted on his brother’s wedding. Helaena helped throw the flowers and she even sang for her brother. Alicient was smiling and she looked at his son with love in her eyes. Meanwhile, you thought you were imagining it but now looking at his silver hair as he drank his wine, you realized that Aemond never looked at you, not even once in your direction. He always feels your eyes if you are looking at him and he has never been subtle calling you out before.

Standing behind them, you stare at his back the whole time but he was unnerved. The only time you pulled your eyes out of him was when the Baratheon girl called your name softly and chuckled lightly when she told you she needed help to change. She smells of wine and you know she was drunk. She was never kind when you first met her. There was an air of pride and status when you introduced yourself to her. She even told you that you should be thankful for the Queen for giving you such an important task. With a bow, you agreed and let her harsh words out of your ear.

She stumbled all the way to her chamber and you did your best to help her not fall. On the way to her room, the quiet of the hallways had made you realize something important. The two will consummate their wedding tonight and as a lady in waiting, you have to stand outside and wait for them to finish.

You will help her prepare. You will hear them. And you will see her after they do it.

What did you do to suffer so much for loving someone more than you love yourself?

“I was told you were close to my husband.” She said with a slur.

How shameful.

She acted so mighty when you first saw her but you know well that the pressure of the responsibility had made a small crack to her resolve. Ladies such as her will never know the cruelty of politics in King’s Landing until they are arranged to marry and see it for themselves.

Now, she is trying her best to assess your loyalty to her and is checking if you are a problem, a secret lover, of the said husband.

“I am merely a lowborn noble who grew up with the prince, my lady. My loyalty lies to those who stood beside him. I am entrusted for your care because he cares for you and your well-being.” You replied, as you helped her remove the pins on her hair. Her jet dark black hair spilled out. It was beautiful and well taken off.

She nodded and tapped your shoulder. You knew this would not be the last but she was drunk and out of her wits to continue for the night. She stood up and you understood that she needed help with her dress. You assisted her shimmy out of her corset and clothes. And you gave her satin chemise, that she brought for this special day. Once you did a last do over of her look, you bowed and she decided to sit on the bed.

“The one-eyed prince, Prince Aemond is here.” Your ears perked from the sound of his namee and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from looking at his figure as he walked inside the room. With a deep curtsy, you went to his wife’s side and did not dare look at Aemond even though you could feel his eyes on you for a second.

Once he went towards his lady wife. You slowly went to the door, servants followed you out and they quietly closed the door behind you.

Your eyes widened when it was Ser Criston you saw outside. He nodded in recognition and you did the same. The night will be long for you and your heart.

The sound of whispers, the creak of the bed, the groans and moans was like a torture for you. You know that being a lady in waiting means you have to make sure that they do it to secure an heir but maybe the Queen chose you to be in here to make sure that you will not be a problem. To torture you into giving up having any dreams of being with Aemond. How cruel if that was proven true.

Even with a lot of people outside their door, it was quiet. Except for the flicker of the flames from the torches and occasional hoots of owls. All the while you begged your mind to tune out the louds sounds they were making inside and let your mind wander and think of a fond memory.

You remembered those days where Aemond will look at you so softly and your heart will flutter when he smiles. His hands were soft and warm. He was so beautiful. However, the feeling inside your chest scared you. Your grandfather died from having a weak heart. What if you have it too?

You did not hesitate during that time to visit a maester and let him check your heart. He took your fear seriously when he saw your small face, paled with worry. However, you did not understand when he checked your body and you told him what happened. Not mentioning Aemond’s name. Somehow, it feels embarrassing but you do not know why.

He smiled oh so kindly and told you that you were a healthy young lady. He also refused to explain why it happened. Instead, he reassured you that your heart is normal and you would understand what it was once you get older.

And you did.

One day, when the young noble ladies sat down for an afternoon tea. They talked about love that day. They shared the feeling of falling for someone and you can’t help but blushed when you realize what your feelings were. Since then, no matter how much you try not to fall deeper for him, everything he does pulls you into him further. Everyday your heart yearns for his heart to accept your love.

Thoughts left your mind, when suddenly, the Prince’s servants enter the room. It did not take them long to help Aemond out and you curtsied once he was out. Instead of leaving right away though, he stopped in front of you and you can’t help but straighten your back and look at him.

“Make sure she will be comfortable. Help her out.” That was his last words before he walked away and slowly went back to his room.

After everyone made sure the Prince had left, followed by Ser Criston, you were the first one to enter the room and you saw the lady sitting on the side, a blanket covering her lithe body, her back turned to the door. She was shaking.

They said that the first always hurts.

Your eyes scan the bed. The sight froze you for a moment but you composed yourself and nodded to another servant to confirm that the wedding was consummated. The dark stain on the white sheet did not lie. The lady’s original servant smiled before leaving. And you knew it was supposed to be a happy moment, but deep inside, your whole heart crumbled to pieces. This night seems to last forever.

Trying not to think about it, you softly called his Lady Wife and told her you readied a bath for her, with oils that will relieve the pain of her first.

The lady nodded and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from crying.

~~~~~~~

Your death is upon you.

You remembered it was raining that night.

You remembered feeling hot with pure rage and anger about her lying to Aemond.

Somehow you caught rumors about the child she was carrying was truly a bastard. It turns out the reason why the Baratheon’s was rushing the wedding was because her daughter was already pregnant.

You would never care for such things because they were just rumors. Until a month after the wedding. She announced she was carrying an heir. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be pregnant that fast after the times Aemond had visited her chambers. But then you were the lucky one to witness her betrayal. You were carrying out some tasks that morning, when you saw your lady’s knight kissing her hand. The oddest thing was the way they looked at each other. It was full of longing. Then with full passion, Aemond’s wife grabbed the knight’s face and kissed him. You left a silent gasp and did your best to move far away from them, scared about what you had witnessed.

You have told yourself that maybe you saw it wrong but there’s a voice inside you, screaming in anger to save Aemond from their lies. In your free time, in secret, you looked for information about their relationship and you found out that they were indeed lovers. You have sold all your riches you hid for yourself for this important information. And this will not end well.

It was maybe the pure rage that made you do it. You do not know. But earlier all you could see were red from madness…….. until it faded and the only thing in your field of vision was her limp body full of stabbed wounds lying below you. Your hands, red from her blood, and red drips down at the tip of the knife you used to stab her.

Your legs were in between her, completely trapping the lady, and your dress was drenched with a warm, deep red color. You looked at your reflection at the bath water she was supposed to use, that you prepared for her. Your hair was all over the face and your face had scratches from her nails when she fought back.. You were breathing heavily and you watched as your face contorted from rage, to shock, into absolute terror. What have you’ve done!?

In denial, you shook your head, looked around, checking if anyone saw what you did. Once you confirmed no one was around, you quickly came near the bath water and cleaned the blood off your hands, your hair and face.The stench of iron was strong and you can’t help but vomit in disgust.

In panic you stood up, knife clattered on the floor. With shaking hands, you check her nose for any signs of breathing but only her glassy eyes stared back at you. You let out a silent scream.

You were occupied thinking and mumbling about what you should do, what you must do while scrubbing your body raw. That you did not hear the creak of the opening door and footsteps of someone entering the room. Aemond’s voice calling your name froze your body and slowly, you looked at him. His eyes were wide with fear and his mouth agape from shock. You know he doesn’t need an explanation about what happened and it was obvious what you did.

You were mumbling incoherently when you felt someone touched your arms and his calloused hand, grabbed your chin and forced you to look at his lilac eyes. His face was eerily void with emotions when he asked you a question.

Before he could speak, you were on your knees, hugging his legs, begging for forgiveness. You rambled about what you found. Told him about what you had witnessed. That the child wasn’t his and the marriage was all a plot planted by the Baratheon’s to take advantage of the throne. You even shared what you did to acquire the truth, what you have to sacrifice. But you were so mad that you confronted her yourself when you found out the truth, and it all led to this. You were a sobbing mess and you do not know if he understood your words but you still told him everything….everything you know without missing a beat.

“How sure were you that the child wasn’t mine?”

“The servants from the storm end confessed to me.” You were choking from your own tears as you mouthed where you got the confirmation. He stared at you for a while then you heard him sigh. He then dropped you to the floor and you crawled backwards when he went back out of the door. The worst was already running inside your head. You will die the cruelest way and you admit that you were not ready for it. All you did was protect Aemond. The love of your life, right?

Outside, you heard a grunt, then the door swung open with a bang. You saw him carry the Baratheon girl’s loyal servant inside. He then dropped them off the floor, in front of you. And you gulped. Confused as to what was going on.

“Change your clothes into hers. Then make sure she will wear your clothes.” You frowned about his order but then he looked at you, eyes all serious, and so you nodded and did what he told you to do. He then spoke again and you were surprised by what you were hearing coming from his mouth.

“No one will know about today and that servant will be you now.” Even not fully understanding his intention, you removed your clothes and made sure to clean off the blood on your body before you changed into the servant's uniform. While you were changing, Aemond was busy dragging bodies of the servants and knights you poisoned before killing his wife inside the room.

“Here and go to the room near the library. Everyone was outside, celebrating for Aegon and to see the celebration, and so I am sure no one will see you. Go behind the wall, we used to hide and you’ll see a secret passageway to go outside. It will take you near the sea. Pretend to be drenched, and buy a new set of clothes. Ride a public carriage boarding to riverlands. Go to my bought home and they will let you in if you show them my seal. Live there for a while and hide. From now on, you are one of the people who will die in this fire. You are now dead. Do not come back.” He instructed, carefully and clearly.

“What fire?” Confused you asked. Until you witnessed how he shoved all the candles at the flammable clothes and fabrics inside the room. You were frozen at your place as you watched the flames eat everything, everyone inside the room. You heard your name but you stood there, stone cold. You cannot take your eyes away from it until he tugged you out of the room. Running and dragging you to the chamber near the library.

He held your hand as you two made way to the secret passageway. It was quiet and only the sound of your feet walking, echoing, on the walls. He then stopped at a corner, with two different turns.

“How about you? I do not understand why you let me go.” You asked worriedly, still out of it.

“Be safe and be careful. This will be the place we must depart.” He said.

“I will be fine. This path will lead near the room I was last seen by knights. No one would suspect I was with you. Go before the sun rises. Take care and make sure to live through this night. Do not come back to King's Landing.” He squeezed your arm to reassure you one last time. He then gave you his robe he uses as a disguise, and you nodded at him as you ran towards the exit.

Once outside, you followed his instructions. You pretended to trip on the water and the people around helped you out.You laughed at the vendors and made humor of your status, and they willingly helped you change your clothes. You made sure to buy the most common dress you could buy. After you changed, you made sure that your previous clothes would be underwater, as you wrapped it tightly around a heavy rock, before you dropped it. Watching it be engulfed at the deepest of seas. Then you rode a carriage heading to the riverlands.

You watched from afar as the billow of smoke was seen at the Red Keep. The people at the market slowly moved towards the castle while your carriage continued moving forward. The truth will turn to ashes in no time. Only the two of you would know what truly happened.

~~~~~~~

In the next town, you caught the whispers about the death of the prince's wife and all of her servants and knights. The news said that the king’s landing was in chaos and the king of storm’s end was furious. They said nothing remained out of those people but ashes and black chalk.

“How cruel. Who could have done something like this? To a pregnant woman too!?” The old folks voiced their fear as they served you with your food. They looked like they were neighbors and it was too early for anyone to arrive at this place so they still have the time for nonsense chitchat.

“Ha! Whoever that was he will surely be killed. I am sure of it.” They continued gossiping and you swallowed the food as fast as you could. You did not even taste it but told the owner it tasted wonderful and gave her a bit of silver added from your bill. She thanked you and wished you well on your journey.

The walk outside was peaceful, no one was out this early and you enjoyed the sound of the wind. You decided to drop to the town before the Riverlands and throw out the plans Aemond had made for you.

You were not certain that the child wasn’t his.

You smiled at the innkeeper as she greeted you when you walked back in. You rented a room to stay at this place to do your other plans. Once inside your room, you sat in front of the fireplace and prayed for the gods for forgiveness for what you have done.

With a deep inhale, you threw his seal on the pot you put atop the scorching fire. You watched before your eyes how it melted and carefully poured it out into small pieces. Once done, you put it in the water to cool it.

The whole process did not take too long and you readied yourself to ride the horse you bought with your coins for another journey. The fire in your eyes cannot be extinguished as you yelled for the horse to run heading towards the north.

No one will know that you lied.

But if it wasn’t his, then you did it because you love him so much.

If the child was a fruit from him, then the death of that child was the karma he deserved for breaking your heart.

All your lies will die on that fire and you will start anew in the north where no one dares to live because of the unforgiving cold.

It is true that a person will do anything for love. Tragic maybe for others but you regret nothing.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #prince aemond #aemond fic #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd fic #aemond x reader #dark!reader #eydi andrius #fic: agape

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everlastingdreams · 6 days ago

Text

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 20

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: No End And No Beginning

Notes: I am glad it isn't chapter 21 that I have to post on my bday lmao 🫣

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter: 20/47

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After spending quite some time reading in your Mother’s journal, you became inspired to write in your own. It was already getting dark outside when you went and fished the ink and quill out from the wooden chest and put them on the ground near your cot. He never locked the chest anymore, hiding nothing from you. And of course you were tempted to look around in the chest a little more, finding nothing more than clothes, books and some basic necessities. The only secrets he kept must have been the ones inside his head. The clothes were put in the chest far from neatly, or perhaps he simply had no time to be careful when going through them when they were folded. It bothered you a bit and to pass the time, you knelt down in front of the chest and started to fold them, and by folding them more space became available for other items in the chest. At the second to last undershirt, you could feel your Fey instinct kick in stronger than it had ever before. His scent on the clothes was clouding your senses and you slowly lifted the shirt up to your nose. How could he smell this good? The instinct to keep inhaling his scent was tremendously strong.

“Gods…” you murmured against the fabric of it.

Maybe it was because of his Ash Folk blood, maybe you were going mad. And the voices of the Hidden in your ears were of no help, they seemed to encourage this odd behavior. You heard something behind you and quickly looked over your shoulder. There he stood, and for who knows how long he had been standing there watching you sniff his shirt. You could not have reacted more guilty when you dropped the shirt in the chest and tried to scramble up to your feet but ended up falling over on hands and knees instead. You gave up trying and plopped your behind down on the carpet floor.

In his eyes was a mixture of amusement, curiosity and quiet fascination. “What are you doing?”

You really wished he hadn’t asked. “I folded your clothes.”

He knew that you knew what he had been asking about. His eyes remained locked on you, watching you sit on the ground like a child caught in the midst of mischief. You tried to look at anything else but his face but felt his intense gaze on you nonetheless. This was embarrassing, and he clearly enjoyed seeing you flustered over it. When he slowly approached, you held your breath. He offered you his hand to help you up from the ground and you timidly accepted it.

For a moment longer he looked at you, a slight smile growing on his lips. “It is difficult, is it not? To ignore a scent that causes that pleasant sensation to run from your nose through your whole body. Similar to eating a meal that was craved for months.”

His explanation fitted your experience so well, but this also meant that he knew very well that his scent was causing you to experience it. You felt your face grow too warm under his curious gaze. His hand was wrapped around your lower arm, thumb slowly stroking over the sleeve of your jacket. Your eyes fell on his lips, tempted to find out what they would feel like against your own. It could change everything, it could ruin everything. He lived by the vow and if you would kiss him you knew it could upset him, what if he sought out the scourge because of it? It was not your decision to make, you had to respect the vow he upheld. You placed a hand over the one he had on your arm and let your gaze fall to the floor.

“Take off your jacket.” he suddenly said.

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He nodded down at it. “Your jacket, take it off.”

He took a small step back and held out his hand for it. You send him a questioning look while taking the jacket off and handing it to him.

A vague hint of the Sky Folk scent disturbed his nostrils. He had caught that scent before, but now it was so nearby that it had startled him.

He patted down the jacket and found the small pouch in the pocket.

“What is this?” He sought an explanation.

“Willow bark.” You took it from his hand and opened it for him to see, though you wondered if he could perhaps identify it by the scent already. “I found a sack under my cot, Gareth left it there for me to find.”

Realization hit him hard. “He was in the camp.” He grew more urgent. “Did he leave anything else for you?”

“Just a note.” you said.

He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it.

“You want to see the note.” you stated what was so obvious to see.

He seemed reluctant to say it out loud. You took the sack from under the cot again and took out the piece of parchment.

You put it right into his hand. “So you know you can trust me.”

He did not fold it open, just looked down at it. Then he held it out for you to take. “I need no proof to trust you.”

You flashed a cheeky grin. “Just read it. You know you want to.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, making you steal the note from his fingers.

“I’ll read it to you.” You took a large step away from him and unfolded the note. “Dear-” you pointed at yourself, “Every time I send you a note, your husband appears to be affected by it. Perhaps he should be a little less worried that you’ll run off with me and-”

The Monk was quick to catch up on the teasing and snatched that note from your fingers while you could barely hold in your soft laughter. He mumbled something under his breath, hesitated, then took a peek at the note.

He folded it again and tried to send you a scolding look, it failed miserably when he saw you grin back at him. “One might believe you enjoy receiving these notes.”

It slipped out of you, “Still worried I have an admirer?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “He clearly is. He cannot seem to stay away.” He gave you back the note. “I hope one day I will be able to explain to him how inappropriate it is.”

You hummed cheekily.

He knew you were on the verge of teasing him again. “We can wait here and see if he will come to visit you, or we can go out and practise the sword as you requested.”

It was an easy decision to make. “I’d prefer the practise.”

He put the note back in that sack and hid them in the wooden chest instead. Then he put the small pouch back in the pocket of your jacket and approached you with it. It dawned on you that he wanted to help you put the jacket back on and you eagerly let him.

Why did it bother him so to notice the man’s scent on you? It was ridiculous.

He took hold of your lower arm and led you out of the tent. “I have an idea to test your skill. Come.”

The Monk scanned over the area, searching for something. Finally he found what he was looking for in the form of a young looking paladin. “Brother Adam. I need your assistance. Follow us.”

You frowned at the Monk, he ignored it and proceeded to lead you and the paladin just out of the camp.

He turned to the paladin. “You are to test how well she can defend herself against you. But do not wound her.”

“With my sword?” The paladin blurted out his confused thought.

The Monk stared at him for a blink. “Yes. This will not be a battle of fists.” Then he turned to you, handing you his longsword to use. “Brother Adam has not been with us long, defend yourself against his attack. This spar stops the instant I tell it to stop. Understood?

He looked to you and the paladin expectantly and you gave a nod in agreement. Then he stepped back, clearing the way for the spar to begin. “No bloodshed.”

“Yes, Sir.” Brother Adam was already starting to sweat under the watchful eyes of the Monk.

With the given permission, you wasted no time to attack. Brother Adam had not expected you to be so enthusiastic with the task, he barely kept his footing when you lunged at his left side. The paladin looked at the Monk, questioning what he had been thrown into.

The Monk saw Brother Adam look. “If you can get her to the ground, I will see to it that you receive a reward.”

Oh? And what would your reward be if you got this paladin to the ground instead? The paladin grew more confident and struck your sword with his own so hard that you nearly dropped it. You fought to keep it in your hands and tried to push his sword away again when he locked his crossguard into yours to use his strength to try and push you down. What you didn’t expect was the paladin kicking the side of your lower leg to try and imbalance it, a pained yelp escaped you.

The Monk had taken a step forward, then halted. He tensed up but forced himself not to interfere.

You retaliated by hitting your forehead against Brother Adam’s face, something you had once seen Cassian do. It made you break apart from each other, both touching your own faces at the pain the attack had caused. You looked at the Monk who seemed rather impressed by your quick thinking. Then you saw his eyes flicker away, instinctively warning you of the impending danger. You moved to the side just in time to avoid being grabbed by the paladin, who then lunged at your side side with his sword in an attempt to disarm you. You blocked the sword with your own, caught his arm midway and jerked your knee up, it hit him in the lower abdomen and send him to his knees. He still tried to grab your leg, but you smacked his hand hard enough to make him regret even trying it.

The Monk ended the test. “That’s enough.”

It was fortunate for the paladin that he decided to end it, because you were contemplating on kicking his red brother in the face if he tried to grab you again. Brother Adam was frustrated by the defeat that even some of the other paladins had seen. With a simple tilt of his head, the Monk dismissed the paladin who was eager to leave the stares of his fellow red brothers.

The Monk took his sword back from your hands. “How is your head?”

“Scrambled. Again.” you deadpanned.

“Again?” he frowned.

You brought your voice down to a whisper, and touched your neck at the memory. “The one who tried to strangle me in the forest hit me to the ground beforehand.”

His eyes fell on the bruises on your neck. “Had I known, I would not have allowed this spar.”

The surge of adrenaline that victory offered was flowing through you. “But now I know that your lessons are helping me. It feels good!”

He noticed how you had carefully touched the bruises. “Do they hurt?”

Hearing him more concerned about your well-being instead of talking about the spar was something you still needed to get used to. “They’re just sore.”

He was aware of the stares of his red brothers and guided you away, back to his tent.

The second you entered that tent, you chatted away excitedly. “I got him to the ground! I can’t believe I did it! I thought he was going to slam me into the soil-”

He moved past you into the tent. “Where is your satchel?”

You dimmed down your excitement to answer him, “Under my cot. Why?”

He grabbed the satchel and found the nearly empty bowl of ointment inside of it. “Come here.” Once you were close enough to him, he made you take off your jacket and put it down on his cot. He took some ointment on his fingertips and reached for your neck, stopping when he saw the look in your eyes. “May I?”

You began to fidget with your sleeve a little. “Yes.”

He made you tilt your head to the side and applied the ointment on the bruised skin. “I know you can heal on your own, and that you are raised to suffer the pain, but it does not make it right. Let me carry your burdens, allow me to help.”

“Because you are my husband and consider it your duty?” you asked.

“No.” he said, swallowing hard. “Because I want to. I need you to be alright.”

You couldn’t form words anymore when he proceeded to caress along your neck with the knuckles of his fingers once he was content with the task of putting ointment on your bruises.

His voice was a mixture of gentle and fragile, “Do you understand?”

Deep down, you knew what he was trying to say without being able to say it. It could never be voiced, because of the vow, because of Father Carden…

Your eyes locked on his. “I understand.”

Relief fought with sorrow in his eyes, he forced them to the ground. “You sparred well.”

“Thank you.” You felt the shift in the atmosphere between you. “You promised Brother Adam a reward if he won. Will I get a reward?”

He gave a sympathetic look. “I cannot give you a sword.”

You pouted a little. “Some more ink that I can use?”

He gave a nod. “Very well.”

His put two fingers under your chin and lifted it just a little, looking once more at the bruises to see if all had been tended to. The silence that fell was loaded, he had withdrawn his hand but moved not an inch away. The both of you were trying to find something to say that could break the tension and release you from it’s hold.

You moved past him, grabbed your mother’s journal and sat down on his cot, patting the empty spot beside you to lure him. “Sit with me.”

A wave of nervousness washed from his shoulders down to his feet. Had he imagined it, or had your voice carried a certain sultriness meant to persuade him?

The Monk had lost his confident composure for a brief moment, he composed himself enough again to indulge your request. He sat down beside you and you skimmed through the pages of the journal for a little while, finally settling on a page with a passage you wanted to read out to him.

~“I smell the flowers far below my window outside, their scent offers me solace. I can smell my Little Ember as she sleeps in her cradle. Her marks may not be visible, but the scent of the Ash Folk is on her. It reminds me of home, of mother and father. And maybe, it reminds me of who I used to be before I was forced to forsake who I am.”~

You let him read along and leaned closer, he was quiet and waited for you to continue reading to him instead.

~“I do not want her to grow up and be the last of her clan left. I have not found one of my kind since I fled the cleansings. This cannot be, it cannot be the end of us?”~

A lump formed in your throat and you were quiet for a moment to regain the strength to read her thoughts out loud.

~“Our little ones, our little embers, meant to burn so strong. Their light extinguished before they could even begin. May the Hidden spare us from the Red Paladins.”~

You closed the journal, keeping it on your lap.

“Please…” The Monk barely dared to ask.

You knew what was being asked and took a deep breath before going through the pages again, your eyes landed on a passage in the midst of the journal.

~“As a young child, I always envied how the marks of the Ash Men were always more pronounced than those of the women. While women only saw their marks occasionally, the men loved to flaunt with them, knowing that the rare marks were seen as beautiful by all Fey. Before I was wed, I was nearly tempted by a man with marks that ran up to his temple. How different life could have been…” ~

When you wanted to close the journal again, he prevented it by quickly putting his hand between the pages.

“Wait. What does that say?” he looked at you pleadingly.

You opened it again and read.

~“His scent, I can still remember it. It still causes my heart to quicken. Had he not departed this life, I would not have been able to resist.”~

You closed the journal quickly and rose to your feet. “I think I’ve invaded my mother’s thoughts enough for today.”

He stared up at you with the eyes of a boy being denied attention, leaving him confused and slightly disappointed. You sat down on your own cot, stuffing the journal under your pillow.

“Little Ember.” he whispered and successfully stole your attention back. “You know what this means.”

“What?” You were a nervous wreck.

A devious smile graced his lips. “Unfortunately, your markings will never be as vibrant as mine.”

He was fast enough to block your pillow with his arm when you tried to hit him with it after his jest.

“Oaf!” You tried to hit him a second time.

He blocked it again, and when you tried again his battle-ready side awoke. The last thing you expected was to find yourself on your back on the cot, the Monk pinning your hand down next to your head, the pillow had dropped from your fingers to the ground. He used his free arm to support himself on your cot, leaving your other arm free. The scent of him fell over you like a cloak and you prayed he could not read your eyes.

Arrogance dripped from his tone, “You believe you can defeat me?”

You matched his tone. “I could. But I will spare you the humiliation.”

He looked down at you with high curiosity. “How would you get free from me now? Would you reach for your dagger?”

In strength he outmatched you, but there were other ways. You thought out your plan aloud. “I would distract you.”

“How?”

“With ways that would pollute the vow you took.”

He swallowed hard. You were tempted, so very tempted, but you did not cross the line that he had so carefully kept into place.

After a calming breath through his nose, he found his voice again. “If you find it difficult to ignore a scent as a half-blood, imagine what it must be like for me.”

You knew he was referring to the moment he caught you sniffing his clothes. Your heart was racing at an unholy pace. “I am not forbidding you from smelling my clothes either.”

He took seat on the cot, leaning over you still and keeping you as you were. With how alert he often was, he must have noticed the change in your eyes, and it felt impossible to hide just what was going through your head with him keeping you pinned to the cot. Would he know that you were not as innocent as they all believed you to be? Would he see it as a problem?

His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing as if he was piecing a puzzle together. His hand moved from your wrist to your elbow to pull you into a seated position swiftly. Your chest bumped into his arm and he did nothing to create a more appropriate distance, on the contrary, he kept you against him.

He was rather surprised by how submissive you acted now. “I had believed to be struck the moment I held you down on this cot.”

It was hard to not let your eyes fall down to his lips when he had you so close. “I was too distracted to even consider it.”

His hand wandered down over your arm, then carefully slid into your open jacket to rest on your waist. When no objection came from you, he brushed his hand over your waist tentatively, it was both a soothing and attentive gesture. You placed a hand over his, stroking your fingers along it to let him known you were not against this. Your other hand reached up to touch his neck where the collar of his surcoat allowed it.

His gaze was fixed on your face, but then he closed his eyes and shallowly shook his head. “I am sorry.”

“What for?”

He shook his head again, a pained expression formed on his face, he didn’t dare to meet your eyes again and stood up from the cot.

You caught his hand before he could even think to dart out of the tent. “Lancelot.”

“I…” He took a deep breath. “I should not be doing this.”

Guilt and want were at war with each other inside of him. One often gaining the upper hand against the other, only to be taken down again. Being near you made it so simple to forget the reality around him.

He stepped away, you let him go. He took off his cloak and dressed down to his undershirt in silence. You took your jacket off and put it on the foot of your cot, believing that he needed some time to collect himself. And when you covered yourself with your blanket, he came to sit down on his cot opposite of yours.

He cleared his throat. “If we were not wed, if Father had allowed you to choose, would you have-”

“Yes.” You knew what he was asking. “Knowing what I know now, I would have agreed to this marriage. Even though you uphold the vow you took, even though it will never be a marriage as others know it. Because I believe that this was the only way for me to know you, the only excuse to get close to you. And you’re worth it.”

The intensity of his eyes set your soul aflame, he truly had not expected the answer. He stretched his leg, hooking his foot under your cot and moving it closer to him that way. When it was close enough for him to reach, he leaned over and pulled it with his hand the rest of the way. You understood the intention behind it, and with one shared look you both stood up and moved the two cots against each other.

You stood next to him, looking down nervously at the make-shift bed. “What does the vow say about this?”

He was just as nervous, a timid boyish smile formed on his lips. “Considering we are wed, I believe some liberties are allowed?”

Your eyes squinted at him. “Liberties?”

There was a crack in his voice whilst he spoke, “We have slept like this before. Sleeping is not a sin.”

This was quite a liberty he was taking on the vow. And he had the worried look of a boy who was caught attempting mischief.

You flashed a shy smile at him, agreeing on the matter, “Sleeping is not a sin.”

When he did not move a muscle from uncertainty, you went and laid down on your cot again to make yourself comfortable for the night. “Should I expect advances to be made to me?”

Almost did you regret the tease, because he looked so innocent and flustered when he realized what you were asking. He always seemed to lose that confident demeanor the moment matters became personal like this. And somehow his reaction to it awakened the desire in you to lure him out of his shell.

He stammered the answer, “I would not impose myself-”

You stopped him before he caused himself anymore anxiety, “Lancelot. Come sleep.”

Your hands were trembling ever so little at the way he was looking at you, you had to look away. His cot was almost against the wall of the tent and he had to move between them carefully to lay down on it. While he chose to lay on his back, staring up at the top of the tent, you moved to lay on your side to look at him.

“Tell me, when you are not here, what is filling your days?” you wondered out loud.

He sighed at the thought. “Father has me searching for the Wolf-Blood Witch. She and her allies took over Gramaire, they slaughtered our Brothers.”

You hummed. “I would be lying if I said I was not impressed with her.”

He didn’t blame you for thinking that way. “Father is under pressure from the Pope, he has made his dismay known to me.”

“Carden is putting that pressure on you, I can tell.” You placed a hand on his arm. “Are you worried he will cast you away if you do not meet his expectations?”

A pause. “Yes.”

It didn’t seem likely. “He won’t. He knows there is no one like you.”

He shook his head. “He has you. And when he casts me away, he will keep you.”

It was a terrible realization. The thought that you would be alone in this was awful. “And the Pope won’t question Father Carden on that?”

He slowly turned his head to look at you. “Father lets his pride cloud his judgment at times, I fear when the time comes that he will not be bothered by the Pope’s disapproval.”

You let your gaze fall away, fixing it on his sleeve.

He guessed your trail of thought. “If such a thing were to happen, I would not leave you behind. I would do anything in my power to make it right again.”

You scooted closer, embracing his arm and resting your head on it a little. “And by ‘right’ you mean seek forgiveness from Father Carden…”

He had heard the pinch of disappointment. “There is no place for me other than this. This is what I was raised for.”

Father’s words often haunted him, spoken to him when he had been so young and frightened.

~“Remember, boy. I am your shelter. There is no place for you without me.”~

There was no safety or certainty without the shelter he had been given. No place or future other than being at Father’s side. He was known across the land and enemies were longing to end his life.

You whispered to him, “It may be what you were raised for, but that doesn’t mean it is your destiny.”

He was quiet for a while as he looked up. You could only try and offer a helping hand, a listening ear, in the end it was still his choice whether or not he would accept them.

When the silence remained, you knew he preferred to end this conversation before it would keep him awake all night. “Goodnight, Lancelot.”

He turned his head again, his breath brushing over your forehead. “Goodnight.”

The warmth you felt in your chest told you that your attachment to the Ash Man had grown beyond the limit you had set for it. Your heart had let him in after being empty for so long, it’s fragile walls bound to crumble when you finally allowed yourself to accept that this could never be, not in the way you wanted it to. Even with that knowledge ruining your peaceful thoughts, you fell asleep holding his arm wrapped in yours. That little hope inside was more than you had felt in years, and it was worth holding on to.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Under the night’s sky, surrounded by the forest, he found himself standing in wait. Awaiting something, no, someone’s presence, willing them to come. The soft melody that was their voice called upon his name.

~“Lancelot?”~

He turned towards the sound, eyes setting on your face. A dress nearly translucent swayed around your body with every taken step that closed the distance. A set of eyes that provided him endless transfixation. You came closer and closer, invading all his senses, and he let himself drown in the dream that was you. A touch to his chest, those gentle eyes pleading for his own. Your name fled his lips, a prayer, a plea.

~“My Lancelot…”~

His head tilted into the touch of your hand to his cheek. He could not touch, could not let himself be tempted to force everything he had worked for into ruins.

~“Lancelot?”~

Your touch trailed over his neck, he was drawn in closer, leaning in to receive what could damn his soul. He could not do this, he couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to.

~“You want me…”~

Your lips were so close, taunting his, he did not dare say a word. They were a siren’s call and his soul was willing to drown for them.

~“I will never want you the way you want me.”~

The heavens came down upon him, suffocating his heart cruelly. His arms were pressed to his sides, his hands balled into fists. He wanted to close his eyes, to shut you out. He wanted to keep them open, to see those eyes that carried the marks of the Ash Folk underneath them. They were lighter, less defined then his own, and they were beautiful. Their lines ran over your cheeks, accentuating your eyes even though they did not need more to hold his attention.

~“You do want me, don’t you?”~

You curved your body against his, grazing your fingers along his neck and into the back of his hair. Your lips touched his throat and must have felt it bop when he swallowed.

~“Tell me, Lancelot. Tell me what you want.”~

Your lips were a beacon in the darkness, calling him. His hands had cradled your head and felt how you put yourself at their mercy. His nose grazed along yours. He wanted you with him, he told you while he barely withheld from committing sin.

~“So pious… so righteous.”~

Something was wrong. Blood was dripping down on his boots. The dagger he had given you was lodged into his chest, your hand still wrapped around the pommel. He wanted you with him still.

~“A sinner. Damned.”~

He sank to his knees into the puddle of blood. His vision darkened, yet you seemed to glow. He wanted you still.

~“Why?”~

You held up your palms, small green flames came to life inside of them. He reached for you, he always reached for you.

~“My Dark Angel.”~

It was how the Hidden called to him. Your voice had turned into their haunting whispers. Bleeding and on his knees, he reached out to stop you from fleeing into the darkness of the woods. You slipped from his hands, stolen by the darkness that swallowed him after.

~“Liar!”~

Lancelot jolted awake, body shaking off the dream until his eyes set on the real part of it, you that still slept peacefully. He did not even inspect his chest to find a dagger lodged into it, all that mattered was that you had not vanished into the darkness. All that mattered was that you were still there. His conscience was tormenting him. Servitude forbade him from speaking the truth. He knew that once he did, you would see him as the monster that he was. And all of it in the name of duty…

His nightmares were perhaps better than the nightmare he lived.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88 @fxrchxldws @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake @crystallizedtime @moonlightaura03 @angrygardendeer @have-aheart @5am-cigarette @arcanenature @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream @coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90 @n1ghtlux @rachlovesactors @luckyzipperscissorsbat @morena-doing-stuff @the-fangirl-diaries �� @gipsydanger17 @heavenly1927 @phantasmalbeiing @labyrinthonmymind @asarcastic-thiamstan @rainyv-skies @stclairesplace @katjusja @isla-bell-blog @beebeerockknot @sahvlren @lancedoncrimsonwings @weird123abc @elizabeth-holland24 @kissingandromeda

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

#weeping monk #cursed netflix #weeping monk x reader #lancelot x reader #the weeping monk #cursed #weeping monk x you #cursed lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #lancelot

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cel3003-blog · 5 months ago

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Violet receives a letter

Just imagining what could have happened when Violet received the letter from Penelope...

Once again, english is not my native language, so sorry for the lack of vocabulary...

***

Violet had the loveliest tea time with Lady Danbury. She realized how priceless it was to have a dear friend in one’s life, to share sad but also wonderful moments. Lady Danbury had really become a dear friend to her and Violet cherished the time they spent together. She just returned home and intended to rest in the drawing-room before dinner when Mrs Wilson showed up in the hall “You have received a letter, Madam”.

Violet took the paper and opened it, starting to read it has she was walking towards the stairs. But then she froze and kept reading, standing still in the middle of the hall. When she finished her reading, she heard steps in the staircase and saw her third son walking down to her.

“Colin”, she said in a trembling voice, “I have received a letter from your wife.” Colin looked at her solemnly “We had better sit”, he said. Violet gave her son an intriguing look and followed him in the study where he led her. They sat on the yellow settee against the wall, Violet trying to process the words she just read. Colin was staring at her, not much because he was searching what to say (he had kind of prepared his speech) but mostly to try to convey some confidence to his mother. To tell her that everything will be alright.

He was about to speak when Violet suddenly said “Oh… that makes total sense, now…” Colin looked at her surprisingly. “You have learnt about it a few days before your wedding, haven’t you?” Colin nodded. “I was wondering how you could have been so in love with her and been suddenly so… distant…” Colin felt tears welling up in his eyes. He expected to be quite emotional, when telling his mother his speech, but he didn’t think it would be that soon. He managed to speak with what he thought was a plain voice. “I found out on the night after the ball at the Mondriches.” “You found out…?” Violet repeated. “She didn’t tell you?” Colin slowly shook his head, feeling that tears were not too far from pouring out. He stood up and started pacing in the room, trying to give himself a countenance, telling his mother how he followed Penelope that night, and discovered her secret identity. He told her about the argue in front of the printer’s shop and the awful words he told her and how he let her ride home on her own. “I am not very proud of it, but I was blinded by anger…” he tried to justify. “Of course, you were!” his mother replied. “I cannot imagine what you have been through, how you must have felt…” She stood up as well and walked towards his son to take him in her arms. Colin hugged her and finally allowed himself to let out all the tears and the sorrow he had kept deep inside for days. They stayed like this for a moment, the tall man sobbing onto his mother’s shoulders, like a small child, then Colin stepped back, took a deep breath, and invited Violet to sit down back on the settee. He took place near her, his hands in hers.

“Mother, there is a lot to be told, and I promise I will answer all your questions and fill all the blanks in your mind, but I am afraid we are running out of time, so I am going to go straight to the point: Penelope does not want to hide anymore. It is too much of a burden to carry. She realized how dangerous it can be. And she told me…” His voice broke for a moment and he needed to swallow before he could carry on. “She told me she has loved me for too long to lose me now that we are married.” He marked a pause. “You know, our marriage is not… It is… She…” Colin broke into tears, again, squeezing his mother’s hands tighter “I miss her so much, mother!” he cried out. “I miss my friend. I miss my wife. I miss all of her, but I could not… I could not…” Violet took his son in her arms, again, letting her own tears pouring out. “Of course, you could not…” she said.

“Oh my God, what is happening?” Benedict said in a worried voice, from the threshold of the study. “Mrs Wilson told me you have received a letter, Mother, and that you both have been in there for a while. Has something happened to Penelope?” he asked with a terror in his voice. Wiping his eyes, Colin shook his head to reassure his brother and just told him “Come in. And close the door.”

A moment later and as Colin had explained to him what all this was about, Benedict just said “Now, we know why Penelope and El have had a falling out…” Colin nodded as Violet seemed to realize his son’s words.

“There is something I just do not understand”, Benedict added. Colin looked at him intrigued. “Are you and Penelope in bad terms?” Colin seemed to not know how to answer his brother’s question. “Things seem to be on the right path, now, but…” He paused. “But…?” Benedict insisted. Colin replied in a low voice “I do not know…” “Brother, if you do not know if you are in good terms with your own wife, who can?” Colin explained “We had a huge quarrel, the night before our wedding.” Violet seemed to want to ask something but Colin cut her off and continued “A lot of things have been expressed, during that night. I have heard some of her argues. And she heard mines as well. Strangely, I think it helped us go through our wedding day in a more serene way… But then, the Queen came at our wedding breakfast and she threatened the whole family and… I could not bear it…” Colin’s voice broke again. Benedict gave him a warm look and Colin breathed deeply then added “And now, there is more…” and he told them all about Cressida blackmailing Penelope, how he failed to fix things and what Pen finally decided to do, for the sake of all. He told them about the conversation they had in this very study, after Francesca’s wedding.

Violet seemed shocked and all Benedict could reply was “Wahou…” which almost made Colin smile.

“Penelope is a very clever and strong woman”, Benedict admitted with pride in his voice. Colin looked at him in surprise “You do not seem upset…” “Well,” Benedict added “she has written harsh things for years, but she also has saved our family more than once. She protected Eloise. She protected you, from Marina, even if we now can imagine why she has done so…” Benedict said with a smirk on his face. He added “As far as I am concerned, family comes first. Penelope has always been part of this family and now she is a Bridgerton. But as much as I care for Penelope, you have been my brother for longer and I want you to know that you have my full support. So, I think I already know the answer but I am going to ask the question anyway, just to clarify things: do you still love Penelope?” Colin seemed hurt by the question “Of course, I love her!” Benedict smiled. “I thought so. Otherwise, you would not have married her…” Colin snapped at him “Calling off the wedding has never ever been an option! I love her. I am deeply in love with her. I cannot imagine living without her. Otherwise, all this would have been way easier to handle…” Benedict smiled even wider at his brother and Colin realized that Benedict just wanted to remind him his love for his wife. The rest did not matter. All that mattered was Penelope and how the family could help her with her decision to step out of the shadow.

Colin turned to his mother. “You have been quiet for a while, Mother. What are your thoughts about Penelope’s plan? It can be a risk for the whole family. The repercussion on our name can be devastating…” Violet seemed to still be thinking about it. She finally turned to his third son and told him “Penelope has been part of this family way before your engagement. She has been the ninth Bridgerton siblings and now she is your wife. And she has proven that she loves our family more than once. What she has done, these past years is quite incredible. Being able to keep this heavy secret. Earning her own money… I should not say that but I am quite in awe of her…”

Colin felt his eyes filled with tears, again, and smiled at his mother.

He said “I am going to write a letter to Anthony and Kate to inform them of the situation. They are far away: we shall see how things go and keep them informed. I shall also write a letter to Daphne and Simon. And I must inform the rest of the family, as well. Francesca and John will attend the Dankworth-Finch ball and they need to know. And I will tell the kids as well. Eloise knows about Pen being Lady Wisthledown: I will just let her know what shall happen at the ball, if the Queen decides to show up…” Colin suddenly thought about what could happen if the Queen decided to not forgive Penelope. How their life could be, excluded from the court, from what has been their whole world since their birth.

Violet seemed to notice because she squeezed Colin’s hand and told him “You know the family will be fine, right?” Colin smiled, remembering that Eloise told him exactly the same thing, the day after his wedding.

He knew his family will be fine. And as long as he was with Penelope, he knew he will be fine as well.

Keeping that thought in mind, he stood up and, after a last hug to his mother and one to his brother, he headed up to the drawing-room, where was gathered the rest of the family.

#polin #polin bridgerton #polin fanfiction #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #penelope bridgerton #colin bridgerton

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cruger2984 · 1 year ago

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THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT CATHERINE OF ALEXANDRIA The Patron of Young Girls, Students, Philosophers and Wheel Craftsmen Feast Day: November 25

"Help us, to bring Christ, to all those in the world who are so in need of him."

Catherine was born circa 287 AD in Alexandria, during the reign of Emperor Maximian, and according to the traditional narrative, she was the daughter of Constus, the governor of Alexandria. From a young age she devoted herself to study. A vision of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Child Jesus persuaded her to become a Christian, despite she raised a pagan.

Endowed with exceptional intelligence, she soon became well versed in arts and sciences. The beautiful princess and scholar rejected all her suitors, having decided to dedicate her life to Jesus. Catherine experienced the vision of the Blessed Virgin Mary who gave her to Christ in a mystical marriage according to tradition.

Having converted hundreds of people, she ventured to Rome, attempting to convince Marcus Aurelius Valerius Maxentius (or Emperor Maxentius) to refrain from persecuting Christians. Maxentius arranged a debate with the best pagan philosophers and orators, hoping to refute her Christian doctrines, but Catherine won the day. Several of Catherine's adversaries, conquered by her eloquence, declared themselves Christians and were put to death.

Maxentius gave orders to subject the saint to terrible tortures and then throw Catherine in prison. During the confinement she was fed daily by a dove from heaven and Christ also visited her, encouraging her to fight bravely, and promised her the crown of everlasting glory, and angels tended her wounds with salve. More than 200 people came to see her during her imprisonment, that includes Maxentius' wife, Valeria Maximilla; all converted to Christianity and were subsequently martyred. When the dungeon was opened twelve days later, a bright light and fragrant perfume filled it and Catherine came forth even more radiant and beautiful.

Upon the failure of Maxentius to make Catherine yield by way of torture, he tried to win the beautiful and wise princess over by proposing marriage. Catherine refused, declaring that her spouse was Jesus Christ, to whom she had consecrated her virginity.

This makes Maxentius furious, and condemned Catherine to death on a spiked breaking wheel (now known as the Catherine Wheel), but, at her touch, it shattered. He then ordered her to be beheaded.

Before dying, Catherine said this prayer: 'Lord Jesus Christ, my God, I thank Thee for having firmly set my feet on the rock of the Faith and directed my steps on the pathway of salvation. Open now Thy arms wounded on the cross to receive my soul, which I offer in sacrifice to the glory of Thy Name. Forgive the faults I committed in ignorance and wash my soul in the blood I will shed for Thee. Do not leave my body, slaughtered by love for Thee, in the power of those who hate me. Kindly regard this people and give them the knowledge of the truth. Finally, O Lord, in Thy infinite mercy exalt those who will invoke Thee through me so that Thy name be always glorified.'

Catherine herself ordered the execution to commence, and told the soldiers to execute her orders, and then she was beheaded with but one blow by the sword. A milk-like substance rather than blood flowed from her neck. It was the year 305 AD, when Catherine received the crown of martyrdom.

Soon numerous miracles began to take place. Her body, as she had asked, was carried away by angels and buried on Mount Sinai so that she might rest where God had written on stone His law, which she had so faithfully kept written on her heart.

Her major shrine can be found at Saint Catherine's Monastery, located on the Sinai Peninsula.

There is a cathedral named after her, as the cathedral is the seat of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Dumaguete and is considered as the island's oldest stone church having been completed in 1776 and is one of the city's most famous landmarks. It got a major upgrade in 2023 and is rededicated by the diocese's fourth bishop - the Most. Rev. Julito Buhisan Cortes. The church was razed by a fire in 1846, and was rebuilt in 1885. Another fire destroyed the church in 1953, and was restored in 1957.

#random stuff #catholic #catholic saints #catherine of alexandria #catalina de alejandría #wheel craftsmen #scholars #philosophers #apologists #students #negros oriental #ilocos sur #roman catholic diocese of dumaguete

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idamante · 1 year ago

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I HAVE SOME! MY TIME HAS COME!!!

I've told @dootznbootz some of these (copy pasted too) but I think some of y'all need to hear my appreciation for the Trojan family...

under read more because... yeah.

Priam has trauma over the first sacking of Troy. for all his worth, is stuck in the past. He will forever be the ten-year-old boy who saw his brothers die, the boy whose other younger brothers blame for the sacking, and the slave his favorite sister Hesione had to bargain her freedom with. That tragedy will play in his eyes forever and ever; when everyone moved on, he is still that same boy looking at the carnage.

Priam is the third youngest of Laomedon's kids (his other brothers are Thymoetes and Hicetaon) and he used to be called Podarces. He has TONS of older siblings but his favorite is his sister Hesione, who just loves to spoil him. When she got chained to a rock and about to be sacrificed to Apollo, he was so sad and kept begging his dad not to let her die, but his dad is kind of a jerk. Heracles was the one who rescued her but got mad when Laomedon wouldn't give him the horses he promised him. So... with Telamon, he sacked Troy. Hesione tried to hide Podarces and his younger brothers, but they were found. He is about to become enslaved by Telamon, but Hesione said she'll marry Telamon herself and buys Podarces out from slavery. In honor of his sister's sacrifice, Podarces changes his name to Priam, which meant 'to buy'

Hecuba is Priam's "favorite wife" 🤡 HONK HONK he likes her but like. "yeah you gave me kids girl, thanks for that" dw he starts realizing how badly he treated her when the war comes around. ten more years of living in bliss before everything comes crashing down.

ALL of Hecuba's kids have a few 'non-human' traits, due to her nymph blood. (In my AU Hecuba is the daughter of a river god, and she a nymph.) Most of them have an affinity for water, but they take over their mother's traits differently.

All of Hecuba's children were born beautiful, and extremely enchanting (but Aeneas defeats them in terms of physical appearance lmao), and also strong. She's also the reason why they seem to 'grow up so fast' e.g. most of her kids starting families young etc.

Hector has eldest daughter syndrome <3 while his sister Iliona was firstborn she wasn't... really around? She prepares for her marriage, does things considered to be a good princess, and she actually doesn't care about her siblings that much. She barely has a relationship with them outside of Hector

Helenus and Cassandra were Priam's favorite twins, always asking for fortunes and prophecies and making it a game. But in time, especially since Cassandra started to become 'insane,' he found them 'unnerving' to be around, of how they will say that Troy will be destroyed... he doesn't like being faced with this future.

Priam is a good king, but he was NOT a good warrior. after seeing his older brothers killed right in front of him, and his younger brothers blaming his inaction for their deaths, he had a great fear of war, battlefield, and blood. that's not a good look on a king, especially during that time. so he talks. he talks, and he relents, remaining passive, but also knows when to put his foot down. he KNOWS he needs to have a son soon, someone stronger, someone who will be much better than he ever will be. However, one son isn't enough. whe doesn't want to see his city destroyed because his children weren't enough to defend his walls, so he marries one wife. and another. then another. to the point that he only sees them as some sort of breeding stock

damn Priam needs to stop having kids. he cant btw he has trauma and wants to see his lineage last a long time <3333333

Aeneas was mostly raised by the Trojan court because his dad is mostly considered as an 'embarrassment' for passing off the idea that he was born from Aphrodite. which is incredibly funny because Aeneas DOES look a lot like what his mother symbolizes. however bc of the stigma around his birth and dad, he doesn't really talk much about him :((((((

Paris retains some form of accent thanks to being raised in Mt. Ida for a long time. he tries not to slip into it, but when he's angry he slips to the accent and gets lost in his ranting. or maybe when he's upset he does it.

Paris and Deiphobus have MAJOR beef. Dei is just mad he realized he wasn't the second in line to the throne when Paris showed up and kicked his ass lmao

Aeneas actually liked Creusa, she was like, his childhood sweetheart. had issues with physical touch when he realized he couldn't embrace her anymore during the sacking of troy, though.

Troilus is such a cutie patootie, basically the baby of the family. its obvious he isn't Priam's kid, but WHO CARES? he can make everyone's day brighten up just by existing. no wonder the trojan halls are bleak after his death.

the trojan family generation trauma continues on to -> the roman family generation trauma (thanks, aeneas/j)

Any head canons about the Trojan royal family? 👀

unfortunately i don't have much :'D the trojan royal family really intrigues so i do want to get a bit more into it (y'know. pre trojan war sibling stuff potential :0). If i do end up with some hcs i'll be sure to share em!

#tagamemnon #trojan family #loise rambles about greek mythos #did i ever tell you guys priam is my sopping wet cat #HELP MOST OF THESE ARE PRIAM RELATED I AM SO SORRY OP #priam #aeneas #creusa #deiphobus #paris | alexander #paris of troy #hector of troy #hecuba #cassandra of troy #cassandra #helenus

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years ago

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Could I request a Cersei x f reader where the reader is Cersei’s secret lover but Jaime (Love him but needed a villain) found out and made up lies about reader so Cersei herself throws the reader to jail. When she’s finally freed after the allegations were proved wrong, reader is now cold hearted, avoiding Cersei who tries to talk to her. Go heavy on the angst. You can decide if it’s happy ending (at least as happy of an ending as you can get with Cersei) or not. Thank you! You don’t have to write it if you don’t want to

(Gif not mine but can I just say that I hate myself for loving how beautiful she is?)

Title: Lioness Roar

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Cersei Lannister x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,719

Summary: Cersei’s brothers could do whatever they wanted with little to no consequences all because of their gender. Now as the Queen, Cersei believes she can do more.

Warnings: vulgar language, daddy issues (guess who), homophobia, angst, mentioned wlw smut, and I will admit it does kind of read like yandere.

Author’s Note: God I love writing about Lannisters. They’re so complex (and I know I’ve said that before so sorry if you’re sick of hearing it but I’m not sorry for saying it) and I think this might be the first time I’m writing a Cersei x reader so this was exciting!

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

~~~~~~~~~

Cersei always believed that if she were born with a cock, her world would be a lot different, but for the best.

As a child, she drew pictures of herself on the back of the dragon, and as she got older, her father kept promising to marry her to the prince, so then she began drawing Rhaegar Targaryen in those same pictures.

Before she grew into her female qualities, she was able to dress as her twin brother and attend sword fighting lessons without anyone able to tell the difference.

While Jaime had no interest in listening to his father about the importance of their history, their finances, and the running of the keep, Cersei listened intently. She knew that if she were Tywin’s firstborn son and heir, he’d be proud of all of her accomplishments, and this was just one of many ways she tried to gain his approval.

She did all these things to prove that she can do anything her brothers did possibly even do more than Tyrion but Lord Tywin always stamped down her ambitions other than the one that involved her getting married to the prince. No matter how hard she tried, Cersei could never get her father to actually see her aside from what she already was.

One look and Lord Tywin would’ve seen his daughter holding a sword better than Jaime ever could and reciting old text better than Tyrion could ever pronounce. If Tywin could only see past her gender, Cersei would truly be his golden child.

Alas, she was nothing but a bargaining chip; a pawn he liked to move around the board. When her marriage proposal to Rhaegar fell through and all the Targaryens were killed off, Cersei was married to Robert Baratheon and she became his Queen Consort. She gave him three children, despite the two of them being unhappy from the start. Even if her children didn’t look like the King, she didn’t care. She did her duty to the realm, to her husband, and to her father, securing the legacy Tywin always wanted for his family. Cersei did her part and now she felt inclined to her own right of freedom to do whatever she wanted.

That freedom came in the form of Lady Y/n.

As a wedding gift, Lord Tywin sent Cersei the daughter of one of his bannermen to act as her handmaid and confidant. Y/n was possibly the only truly kind gesture Cersei’s father ever made toward her, but the new Queen was bitter from the beginning. She did not confide in other women. Cersei felt as though she was above gossiping and hand-sewing, even when she was a little girl. With her father’s praise and boasting of her being the most beautiful woman in all the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei even believed she was above all the ladies of the country, including Y/n.

Y/n was a quiet young woman. Dutiful towards her Queen and tending to her every need without question, the handmaid was smart to never speak openly to Cersei. She kept her thoughts tight-knit in her mind and only replied to the Queen if Cersei spoke directly at her. Even where Y/n was from, she heard certain rumors about Cersei and how the Lady Lannister’s best friend, Melara Hetherspoon, mysteriously fell into a well and only Cersei lived to tell the tale. Y/n’s mother was secretly concerned when Tywin Lannister sent her daughter away to tend to Cersei, knowing that the Lioness of Casterly Rock was always troubled and strangely devoid of any emotion other than anger.

Even Y/n believed this, and in fear, she never spoke a word to Cersei unless spoken to so as not to draw attention to herself. Tending to Cersei was like awaiting with anticipation for a barrel of wildfire to ignite. All it took was one tiny flame.

However, once Cersei’s children were born, it appeared as though that flame was tameable. Y/n often tended to her Queen’s children more so than the wet nurses. Many wondered if the wet nurses were just lazy, but one maid, in particular, had the bravery to whisper about the Queen being behind this, how Cersei ordered the wet nurses to do their duty to feed her children except Myrcella but to leave all other care to Lady Y/n and herself.

If this rumor was to be taken seriously, no one knew why Cersei would do such a thing unless she full-heartedly trusted her handmaid. But this was Cersei Lannister of all people, and no one, not even King Robert, was allowed to be near the princess and princes without Cersei’s presence.

And yet, Y/n could be found with all three children, alone, holding them to her chest when they cried or laughing as she chased them around in the gardens. If they weren’t with Cersei or their teachers, the royal children were likely to be found with Lady Y/n, who they lovingly nicknamed their aunt once they began to speak. Perhaps the children truly thought Y/n was part of their family and if so, Cersei had allowed it to appear that way.

The truth is Cersei grew to care for one other person besides her children and Jaime, but kept that close to her heart and locked it away, not even Y/n could reach it. At first, Cersei was disgusted with her thoughts and her feelings. There was a time in her inner turmoil when she would lash out at her handmaid even though Y/n did nothing wrong. Despite all this, Cersei blamed her for everything and was even tempted to send her away. But young Myrcella, barely able to write her own name, cried one night when Y/n was not there to tuck her into bed and told her mother how much she loved Y/n. Feeling defeated, Cersei never exiled Y/n and refused to look at the other woman for many months.

Cersei’s demons came to a head when she heard Jaime tell yet another story about Tyrion finding another whore to bed with... but instead of her usual disgust, another thought struck her. There was a time when Cersei could act like a boy all she wanted without anyone batting an eye. She could do whatever she wanted and even though she was now Queen, Cersei had yet to take full advantage of that. As long she remained married to the King and gave him children, her father could not tell her what to do and her husband cared very little about what she did as long as Cersei kept him out of it. Hearing Jaime’s story of Tyrion’s new woman, Cersei thought if her dear little brother could take any common whore to bed without scandal, why couldn’t she?

Lady Y/n was already her handmaid. It was already the perfect disguise. If Tyrion could do it and hide his lover as a servant girl, so could Cersei. If Robert could openly bring whatever woman he wanted into his bed, so could his wife.

Of course, Cersei could order Y/n to kiss her and bed her if she liked, but she was a clever woman and felt the excitement of playing the long game of convincing Y/n to love her. So as not to scare her, Cersei started off slowly, starting by subtly nodding her thanks to Y/n when she helped her dress and undress because yes, Cersei has never once thanked anyone before. When Y/n didn’t appear put off by this, Cersei slowly began to openly thank her, then slowly progressed to subtly touching her arm or moving Y/n’s hair off her shoulder.

This slow progression is successful in many ways. Y/n doesn’t notice how much Cersei changed because Cersei had slowly done so without any red flags rising. Before Y/n could remember the story of Melara Hetherspoon, Cersei had her wrapped around her finger, practically brainwashing her handmaid into believing that she had always been a kind and loving queen towards her loyal subjects. Cersei’s patience paid off when Y/n began to openly talk to her about her hopes and dreams, even her opinions, without ever flinching of fear or repeal.

And, in a way, her patience also brought Cersei to love Y/n even more than just for lust. Listening to Y/n talk made Cersei wonder why she had suppressed the young woman from doing so in all the years she’s known her. Everything sounded exciting when Y/n spoke, her voice forcing Cersei to listen to every syllable.

That is... until eligible suitors came searching for Y/n’s hand in marriage. When Y/n talked about her suitors, Cersei would immediately order her to speak of something else. She couldn’t bear to hear about the men trying to take her new interest away from her. She wouldn’t allow her brothers to steal a toy from her as children, why would this be any different?

It was the talk of the decade. Throughout King’s Landing, people whispered about how Lady Y/n must be cursed. Ever since her father announced opening a proposal for her, many of Y/n’s suitors have mysteriously disappeared or been found dead in their beds, sometimes even before they could meet her. Over time, several men have gone to King’s Landing in hopes of winning Y/n’s hand. None have returned to their homes and some houses were on the brink of extinction because of this curse.

It didn’t take long before men stopped asking for Y/n’s hand in marriage, and Cersei had never been happier to have her handmaid remain at her side.

By the time Jon Arryn mysteriously died, Y/n was more than just a confidant or friend. She became Cersei’s secret lover, and Cersei didn’t feel any shame or disgust the first time she kissed her. While making plans for the royal family to travel to Winterfell, Y/n shyly and breathlessly confessed her love for Cersei. Before she could escape the Queen��s chambers in her shame, Cersei roughly held Y/n’s face in her hands as she fervently kissed her. The victory going on in Cersei’s mind was all too sweet, hastily taking Y/n to her bed then and there, finally claiming her as no one but the Queen’s.

Cersei had begun to feel like a god with what she had taken as her own. With Y/n secretly under one arm and Jaime under the other, she began to believe and reminisce about the young girl she once was, a Lady Lannister who took no prisoners and always got whatever she wanted. As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei felt as though she held the world in her hands and was believed to be untouchable.

This god complex would continue to fester and grow as several events play out. While in Winterfell, Young Bran Stark mysteriously fell out of a window. When the royal family left the North, they brought Ned Stark and his two daughters with him as the new Hand of the King. When Cersei arrived back in King’s Landing, Y/n was waiting for her in her chambers with open arms and a hot bath. Cersei had never felt such power secured tightly in her fist before.

That is until it slipped ever so slightly out of her grasp and Cersei lashed out and nearly lost her mind. Under Lord Stark’s orders, his wife Catelyn took Tyrion as her prisoner and this prompted Jaime to attack the Hand of the King before escaping King’s Landing. Cersei could feel her power and influence slipping when, even as Ned Stark admitted to her accusations, Robert still refused to punish his old friend.

Madness slipped through, for a split second, as Cersei snapped, “I took you for a king!”

“Hold your tongue.”

“He’s attacked one of my brothers and abducted the other. I should wear the armor, and you the gown.”

King Robert spun around and hit her before Cersei could say more. She proudly claimed she would wear this mark on her face like a badge of honor before swiftly leaving the room. She retreated to her chambers to lick her wounds and fester in her rage. When Y/n was summoned, she was horrified by the angry bruise on Cersei’s face and tended to it immediately. Unaware of what had happened, Y/n barely even blinked when Cersei ordered her to stay with her the whole night.

War began to brew after that and Cersei received word of Tywin and Jaime raising an army to bring back Tyrion. Sensing it was time to make her move, she had her cousin Lancel bring an armload of wine for Robert when he fled to the Kingswood to hunt. Of course, everyone knows that wine and hunting don’t mix, and when Robert returned to Cersei, his guts were spilling out of him. It wasn’t long before Joffrey was sitting on the Iron Throne after that, his mother sitting beside him.

Cersei had Ned Stark arrested and his daughters confined to the Red Keep. With her son as king, she now had all the power with no one to tell her otherwise. She still felt her self-control slip, however, when she heard of Jaime’s capture and then Tyrion returned to King’s Landing as Tywin’s Acting Hand of the King. When she heard the news of her twin brother, Cersei retreated back to her chambers and once again, kept Y/n in her bed all night long. Y/n was none the wiser, believing Cersei was only grieving her brother’s capture by taking her anger out on her lover. This anger got even worse when Myrcella was sent away to Dorne.

When Jaime returned, Cersei was still an angry woman and nothing was ever the same again. Cersei retreated from Jaime’s embrace whenever he reached out to her. At first, he thought it was because of his missing hand, but then Cersei gifted him a golden prosthetic as a replacement. When she didn’t appear disgusted by him, Jaime kept a watchful eye on his sister.

He suspected Cersei had another lover but failed to find any man entering his sister’s chambers, no matter the time of day. He did, however, always noticed Y/n freely walking around wherever she wanted. Even when Cersei was not around, Lady Y/n would enter her room and the guards standing outside wouldn’t even question her. Sometimes, Jaime even witnessed Y/n ordering the guards around as if she were speaking on the Queen’s behalf, and they listened to her. Jaime’s affronted thoughts came to a halt when one day, he noticed Y/n out in the gardens with Tommen, the young prince indulging the lady with a book he read out loud. Cersei was nowhere in sight.

Jaime was not the smartest Lannister, but he knew Cersei better than anyone, and he knew that his sister would not trust their her children with anyone unless she had complete faith in them.

He confronted his sister that night when he knew that Y/n was sent away after helping Cersei undress. With the Queen now alone, Jaime snuck in and didn’t hesitate to speak his mind, “You love her.”

Cersei froze, her back turned to him, refusing to say a word or even look back to face him. Jaime scoffs because that was enough of a confirmation for him. Cersei was never one to hold back her tongue; this would have been no exception if it wasn’t true. The emotions that began to build within Jaime were rage and disgust. He pushed a boy out of a window for Cersei. He kept their affair a secret for Cersei. He killed his cousin for Cersei. He even lost his hand when trying to get back to Cersei. How is it that he went through all that trouble the gods have cursed him with for Cersei, and she had already moved on and fallen in love with another? How could he live with this knowing that Cersei had pushed him aside for none other than a woman?

“As hateful as you are... you love her,” he seethed between his teeth, “All those years you made me believe you kept her around to keep all eyes away from us... when really you just wanted us both. You have always been a selfish woman.”

A wry smile curls over his lips, the brewing anger slowly turning malicious, “But I wonder how selfish? Or are you just too blind by love to see it?”

Cersei turned to face him, her expression sour and voice dripping with venom, “See what?”

“That she has fooled you,” Jaime lets the words spill out of his mouth like water, fluid and graceful, even he believed the deceit he spoke, “Lady Y/n’s father may be our father’s bannermen, but she is no ally to us. I intercepted a raven before my escape, one that was addressed to Robb Stark. It was sealed with your sigil but not your handwriting, so I knew it wasn’t yours. However, seldom few have access to your seal and your desk, so one could only wonder who had the means of contacting the King of the North bearing your mark?”

Cersei stood still, eyes locked onto Jaime’s as her expression slowly twists and turns corrupt with barely restrained rage and madness in between the flicker of the candle flame. For a moment, a brief moment... Jaime thought that rage was directed at him.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n was roughly woken by a few of the Queen’s personal guards, binding her and muffling her screams with a rag. Tediously, they bring her all the way down into the dungeon before throwing her into the deepest, darkest cell. With her bonds and gag loose, Y/n finally has a moment to yell and plead, her hands gripping onto the iron bars for dear life as she begged for someone to help her.

Her pleas stop, however, when from the shadow emerges Cersei, regal as always, dressed in her usual red and gold fabrics without the help of her usual handmaid, now trapped behind bars. The moment Y/n caught the light on Cersei’s face, she knew who to place blame for her arrest.

“Why are you doing this?! I deserve an explanation!”

“You’re a traitor,” Cersei hissed even with a sly smile on her beautiful face, “You betrayed my son, your king. And worse of all, you betrayed me. Did you truly think I wouldn’t find out about your secret little messages to the King in the North? Were you praying that Jaime would never return so that he wouldn’t be able to inform me of your treachery?”

Y/n was initially shocked by these accusations before turning to defend her honor, “Surely he’s mistaken! Your brother has been away from home for far too long. His mind might be sick from being Robb Stark’s prisoner all this time. Why would you believe Ser Jaime over me?”

The question dies in her throat, her face crumbling into fearful realization as Cersei continued to stand still, as quiet as a cat while smiling down at her mouse. Y/n’s voices drop down into a whisper as she tries to hold back her own emotions, “... Unless it’s true. The rumors have all been true. You and your brother...”

Y/n’s fear slowly reverts to anger as her thoughts spill openly from her lips, “I refused to believe the whispers. I was loyal to you from the very beginning. I stuck by your side through everything and yet-- How could you?” She finally snapped, voice rising once again as her grip tightens around her bars, “I sacrificed everything for you! I gave you all I had and it still wasn’t enough, wasn’t it? I loved you... with all my heart, but not even love can cure you from this madness.”

Cersei’s eyes bore into Y/n’s own, the two women standing in the silence of the dark, cold dungeon. The Queen doesn’t acknowledge her actions for not even she knew why she quickly decided to imprison her former lover. She herself felt disgusted. Cersei had been able to round up each of King Robert’s bastard children and slaughter them for the sake of Joffrey’s legitimacy, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to have Y/n executed even though the woman was accused of betraying Joffrey. Cersei once believed she would do anything for the sake of her children, and now she felt disgusted knowing that she couldn’t even kill a woman to uphold that silent promise.

Cersei held her chin high, her voice was as cold as the day she first met Lady Y/n, “I love my brother. I will only ever love my brother. How could I ever love someone as lowly as a servant girl?”

~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t take long before Tywin noticed his daughter had a new handmaid and not one who was trusted enough to tend to Tommen when Cersei wasn’t around. Without questioning the Queen, Lord Tywin conducted an investigation and quickly discovered Y/n in the dungeons. After briefly talking to her and investigating Jaime’s accusations, Tywin was able to concur that Y/n was innocent of such treasonous actions and set her free. When Cersei heard of this, she was enraged and immediately went to her father with demands of executing her former confidant. When Tywin brought his evidence to her attention, Cersei refused to believe it, turning a blind eye and cursing her father’s name. Even in disbelief, Cersei couldn’t help but internally feel the ache and anger in her heart. Deep down, she knew Y/n had done nothing wrong, yet she listened to Jaime anyway. The last nail was wedged into her coffin when Tommen asked Cersei where his Aunt Y/n had gone. Only then could she truly admit she made a mistake.

But it was too late. With Y/n no longer being Cersei’s handmaid, the lady avoided the Queen like the plague. Y/n was no longer the woman everyone once knew to be kind and compassionate. She was cold and calculating to everyone, including Cersei, if the two women ever had a brief encounter in Joffrey’s court.

Y/n couldn’t even find it within herself to feel sympathy towards Cersei when Joffrey was murdered at his own wedding. Long after Tommen was crowned King, Y/n continued to avoid Cersei and never once shed a tear for the boy she once loved as her own. As long as one bore the face of Cersei or sported any sort of Lannister trait, Y/n avoided them at all costs and even felt disgusted if she had to share a room with them. A moment of opportunity arrived for her to be rid of this Hell when the High Sparrow became a big influence on King Tommen and his people. Cersei had the High Sparrow annointed as High Septon with the belief that he would work under her rule, and Y/n watched this unfold from a distance until finally, she made her own calculated move.

In time, Loras Tyrell, Queen Margaery, and even Cersei had been thrown into various cells of the Great Sept when none of them confessed to the sins they were accused of. Cersei had felt the cold breath of karma ghost down her neck the moment her cousin Lancel entered the room to stand beside the High Sparrow. Weeks dragged on and Cersei was miserable in her cell, hair matted and body covered in filth, tongue dry from her thirst. The cell door opened one miserable morning and Cersei curled in on herself instinctively, ready to refuse the water when offered in exchange for a confession... but the septa never said a word. Slowly, Cersei looked up from her arms and found Lady Y/n standing there instead of a septa, dressed in travelling clothes and holding a small pouch of water in hand, devoid of emotion as she looked down on the former Queen she served.

Cersei didn’t look pleased or impressed, turning her away to lean against the cold wall of her cell, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The one thing you have always strived for; craved for... You have always wanted to see me suffer.”

“I don’t know if there is anything I can say or do to convince you otherwise,” Y/n scoffed while setting down the pouch of water, “I gave my life to you, yet you still believe I betrayed you somehow in some shape or form. Even when I was proven innocent, you despised me. Why?”

Cersei blinked slowly while staring off into space, trying to swallow her spit to relieve her thirst, “You were just some lowly reminder of a time when I was unfaithful.”

“To who? King Robert? Everyone knows you despised him. That is no secret. Everyone knows that you would have done anything to hurt him. But to hurt Jaime... I think most can suspect that at this point, you would have done anything to keep him at your side. You can’t fool anyone, Your Grace. Not anymore.”

“I have fooled no one.”

“No one but me. You had me fooled the moment you kissed me,” Y/n’s voice broke, ever so slightly, cracking her mask, “You had me believe what we had was love. And yet you threw it all away the moment you decided to believe whatever you wanted to hear.”

“I didn’t want you to betray me.”

“And I never did. But you didn’t exactly care, did you? Instead of just asking me, you threw me in a cell and left me to rot. Because it was Ser Jaime’s word against mine.”

“Why are you really here?” Cersei rasped, watching her finger as she absently traced shapes into her cell wall.

Y/n composed herself, hardening her heart again and quickly blinking away the tears before they could be shed. She straightens up her vest as she confidentally spoke, “I came to say goodbye and to pray we never see each other again. What happens to you is no longer my concern. King Tommen has granted me leave from your service and is sending me home today. My only wish... my only wish is that we part with our truths laid out to one another... the way it always should have been.”

Cersei finally turns to look up at the woman standing over her, feigned smile spreading over her filthy face, “What truths, pray tell?”

“The truth is you were right, Queen Regent. I did betray you,” Y/n carefully watched as Cersei’s face twisted with several emotions before continuing, “I betrayed you to the High Sparrow. I confessed my sins to him and thus revealed yours. I told him everything, from our affair to yours and Ser Jaime’s. It wasn’t your cousin who turned you in. It was me.”

For years, Y/n has watched Cersei play the game with eager eyes and thin smiles and it wasn’t until recently did Y/n want to see the smug smile wiped from her former Queen’s pretty face. In her dreams, Y/n could imagine this and feel satisfaction bloom in her stomach, fulfilling her without food or water and lasting her till she is old in age. Now, finally succeeding in making Cersei lose at her own game, Y/n doesn’t feel that satisfaction she desired. All she could feel was guilt and shame.

Cersei’s face crumbled until it was laid bare for Y/n to read her as a childrens’ book, the Lady Lannister’s voice becoming accusatory, “So I was right. All you’ve ever wanted was to see my downfall.”

Y/n felt as though she had been slapped in the face, hating herself even as the words fell out, “No... never. Not when I loved you.”

Cersei looked back up when she heard Y/n kneeling down to her height, meeting her shining eyes as her former handmaid whispered as though she spoke a secret, “You might not see it as I do, but if I were to recall... you were the one who betrayed me first. I only returned the favor. Farewell... my lioness. I will pray for the next whore you decide to take to bed.”

The way Cersei’s face fell only made Y/n feel worse as she stood, turning to leave. The former handmaid wanted this woman to beg for her life as she once did in her own cold cell. She wanted Cersei to squeal and cry and feel her heart break as she once did, betrayed by the woman she loved. In a last ditched effort, Y/n kicked her pouch of water close to the cell door, far from Cersei if she even tried to reach it.

“No-- wait, Y/n, please-!”

Y/n hastily made her exit, slamming the cell door behind her to shut out Cersei’s pleas. As she walked down the hall, Y/n could feel a tear slip past her detection... as well as a smile of freedom.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hi I’m back on my bs again. It’s been a busy couple of weeks and now that I’m caught up on House of the Dragon and no longer working nights, I feel fueled to write again. Please support and leave a request in the ask box!

#cersei lannister x reader #cersei x reader #cersei lannister imagine #cersei lannister #got #got imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf #asoiaf imagine #a song of ice and fire #cersei lannister fic #lena headey

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neonlights92 · 4 years ago

Text

RUN: Chapter IV

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for. He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants. So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly. And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook. So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos. How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and smut.

A/N: SORRRRRRYYYYY!!!!

You were more confused than ever.

When Jungkook had promised you a loveless marriage, you knew where you stood at least.

And now… Now what?

He had kissed you and touched you - like no man ever had before - and now…. You were hungry for him.

You’d always loved him of course. Always longed for him.

But not like this.

Your mind kept replaying the other evening’s activities again and again. Butterflies soared in your stomach just at the sight of Jungkook’s back.

It was like you had unlocked a second part to your love - this one deeper, more visceral.

It pained you to be close to him. It pained you to be away from him.

And your husband….

Your husband acted like nothing was different.

In the weeks since that night, Jungkook went back to treating you as a friend. He took you in his arms as soon as the lights went off - but apart from that, he didn’t touch you.

You wondered if you’d done something wrong. Had you offended him somehow?

Was it because you hadn’t fulfilled your duty as you should? You wracked your brain again and again and again… But just came up empty handed.

That night had been perfect. Jungkook had been gentle and playful. He treated you as though you were something precious to him.

Your heart swelled once again as you thought of the boyish grin he shot you… His fingers on your skin… His lips on your lips.

God.

You were like a woman obsessed.

“Y/N?”

You were pulled out of your reverie by your husband’s voice. He was sat across the dining room table from you, his eyes scanning your appearance carefully.

It seemed he had caught you out yet again on one of your day dreams…

It happened often these days. Too caught up in remembering your husband’s touch, that you barely even noticed him when he was right in front of you.

“You seem distracted,” His smile was small, “Is everything ok?”

You nodded and tried to smile back, “I’m fine. Just uh… Tired.”

He raised a brow but decided to say nothing, turning back to the sirloin steak he’d just been eating.

You speared a tomato onto your fork as you watched your husband eat, eyes following the planes of his handsome face and heart fluttering around your chest like a hummingbird.

Everything he did seemed to send you into a frenzy, and as his teeth closed around the piece of meat and you watched him swallow it down, your temperature sky-rocketed through the roof.

Suddenly it was too hot. You were seeing stars. You felt like you might explode.

What on earth was wrong with you?

You stood up quickly, chair scraping back loudly against the wooden floor, and Jungkook stopped what he was doing.

He dropped his fork and cocked his head to the side, “Everything alright?”

You cleared your throat loudly, tucking your hair behind your ears and pressing your hands against your thighs.

“Yes.” You bit your bottom lip, “Yes. Everything’s fine. I just. I’m not hungry.”

His eyes moved to your empty plate, “You’ve barely eaten anything.”

You laughed - the sound empty and hollow - and shrugged, feeling the nerves climbing up your spine.

Could he sense just how anxious you were?

“I ate a big lunch.” Your tummy coiled tightly, “I think I’ll just… Go. To bed.”

The word bed sent another rush of heat through you, and your cheeks flushed bright pink. Jungkook’s face was a mask of neutrality. He never gave a single thing away.

Why couldn’t you be the same?

Hadn’t you both been raised in the mob?

“Okay.” He licked his bottom lip and your legs trembled at the sight, your hands reaching out to the edge of the table, to steady yourself, “I’ll come join you after I finish.”

You nodded tightly, moving away from him as quickly as possible.

You felt his eyes following you, even as you left the room, but you refused to meet his gaze.

That would mean things were truly over.

Jungkook’s gaze could cut through you like a beam of light, almost.

It should’ve been embarrassing how he affected you. And yet… You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You reached your bedroom and entered quickly, shutting the door behind you and leaning against the cool surface of it’s wood. You took deep breaths in, calming yourself down, and steadying your pulse now that you were alone.

Your husband was going to be the death of you.

Jungkook seemed to have no idea what he was doing to you.

And you couldn’t blame him for not knowing.

You were being absolutely ridiculous.

Weak at the knees from the sight of him eating?

How old were you?

What was wrong with you? That wasn’t how a woman of your age acted. It was ridiculous.

And yet… You couldn’t hate yourself for it.

Something about this newfound lust for your husband seemed to send the blood in your veins fizzing. You felt like a new woman. Like a lioness had been set free inside of you.

It was cheesy - completely absurd even - but you couldn’t help it.

You wanted your husband to ravage you.

You giggled at your own thoughts, moving towards the ensuite bathroom and running the warm water. Maybe a bath would help you relax.

It felt like you’d spent the entire evening tense in your husband’s presence - waiting for him to do something that would set you off again - and now your muscles were paying for it.

You dropped some lavender into the bath, and ran a bubble bar under the tap, watching as foam formed across the steaming water. This was exactly what you needed.

The water was heaven against your skin as you sank into the tub, closing your eyes and ridding your mind of your husband’s handsome face. You could think about him later, couldn’t you?

Except his long, slender neck kept materialising in your mind's eyes. You watched again and again as he swallowed the steak, and then slowly it was you he was swallowing. Your thighs rubbed against one another in some attempt to quell the heat you felt in your core.

But it was just the same as it had been the last few weeks.

Soon you couldn’t keep yourself occupied anymore, and your hand started to slide towards the apex between your legs. You imagined it was Jungkook’s fingers dancing across your skin, moving against you - lips covering as much as they could.

It wasn’t the same of course but it would do.

Your fingers finally reached their destination, and you arched your back, wishing it was your husband’s tongue on you.

“Jungkookie,” You breathed, giggling at the nickname you knew he hated, “Oh God.”

A throat cleared itself from behind you.

You sat up - ramrod straight - and whipped your head around to find your husband himself standing in the open doorway, arms crossed.

“What was that you called me?” His eyes were dark with lust, “Jungkookie?”

“Oh.” The word slipped out of your mouth without your permission, “What are you doing here?” “I came to check up on you.” He hadn’t moved from his position at the doorway, “I was worried about you. You were acting so strange at dinner.” A smile that was somewhere between kind and cruel played on his lips, “Now I know why.”

Your heart was slamming against your chest, as you remembered exactly where you were.

Naked. In a bathtub.

Your husband didn’t seem to mind.

“Don’t stop on my account,” He rose a brow, “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You felt yourself trembling. He was enjoying this.

This… Game.

He was enjoying the way you burned for him.

“I - oh… God.” You were mortified - but somewhere beneath the shame was something brighter… Harder, “I’m sorry.”

He licked his lips and finally, finally took a step towards you.

“What for?” He shook his head and came towards the bathtub, kneeling down so his face was level with yours, “I’m flattered my wife masturbates to the thought of me. You only needed to ask if you wanted my help.”

Your cheeks were blazing, but the look in Jungkook’s eyes was dampening your embarrassment.

“I didn’t think… I wasn’t sure.” You licked your bottom lip and his gaze snapped down to your mouth, “I wasn’t sure you wanted me like that. Again.”

His eyes lifted to your own once more, and this time it was like they were on fire.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night Angel.” His words were rough, coarse, “Believe me. I want you like that again. As many times as you want, actually.”

Your heart felt like it might rip itself out of your chest.

His hand reached up to your face, and he stroked a finger down your cheek.

You thought he might kiss you - you wanted him to kiss you so badly - but he pulled away after a moment, and his eyes disappeared down to your legs. He couldn’t see you properly, not with the bubbles in the way, but he seemed to want to devour you.

“Can you touch yourself again for me?” He asked after a moment, eyes sliding back up to your face, “I’ve never seen anything sexier.”

You were sure you were about to hyperventilate.

He had not just said that.

He didn’t mean it.

He couldn’t, right?

Jungkook had been with some many more women before you - older, more worldly… Well seasoned.

And yet, his eyes were looking at you with absolute conviction.

You nodded after another long pause and he smiled - that smile that you loved - eyes crinkling into two crescent moons.

He didn’t stand, as you thought he might, instead moving onto his knees and resting his chin on the edge of the bathtub.

He nudged your hand and you started to move it down the length of your body, watching as Jungkook’s gaze stayed stuck on your fingers.

“God.” He whispered, as though to himself, “So fucking hot, Angel.”

Your hands disappeared under the water, and you felt yourself shiver as your fingers touched your most intimate place. Your eyes closed then, focusing on your pleasure, and after a moment you felt your husband’s lips on your naked shoulder.

You opened your eyes and watched as Jungkook licked his way up your neck to the shell of your ear - biting playfully on it. You groaned at his ministrations, and almost moved your hand away from your centre, when his own fingers enveloped yours.

“Jungkook - your shirt -”

“Don’t care,” He groaned, moving his fingers against your own - soaking his probably very expensive clothes, “Jesus. So hot.”

You arched into his touch and tried to slip your hand away from under his but he wouldn’t let you.

“No, no Angel,” He whispered against your ear, alternating between kisses and licks, “This is a team effort, okay?” You nodded then, desperate to finish - desperate to make him happy.

Desperate that he was touching you again.

His nose nuzzled into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, and that was what did it for you. That act of intimacy - the way he seemed to be enjoying every inch of your skin - tightened the coil in your core until it snapped, and you fell apart into a million tiny pieces.

Jungkook encouraged you through it, landing kisses wherever he could and petting your core carefully, wanting you to enjoy every second of it.

After a moment, when you relaxed, he pulled away and you whined a little eyes still closed.

“C’mon,” He said softly, and you opened your eyes to meet with his, “This isn’t exactly comfortable, is it?”

You shook your head and giggled a little at the look on his face.

So open - so inviting.

His hand was reaching out to yours and you took it, no longer caring that you were naked, and standing up yourself.

His eyes scanned you hotly, and something akin to a blush covered your whole body. When he looked at you again you shivered at the appreciation in his gaze.

“Beautiful.” He murmured as you stepped out of the bathtub, arms tightening around your waist and lifting you up effortlessly.

You laughed again at this, “I’m getting you all wet.” “Don’t care,” He answered honestly, lips meeting your own finally as he kissed you with all the fierce passion of somebody in love.

You tried to tuck your feelings for him away - to enjoy the moment as it came - but you couldn’t help it. Your heart was swelling to nearly double the size, you loved him so much.

Jungkook carried you over to the bedroom, laying you down on the bed carefully and climbing on top of you. His arms caged around you, but you felt safer than you ever had.

You knew he’d never hurt you - never force you to do something you didn’t want to.

“Take this off,” You whispered after a moment, tugging on the collar of his shirt, “I want to see.”

He smirked then, in that way that was so quintessential Jungkook.

“Alright Angel. So needy.”

You didn’t even deny it, nodding furiously as you watched the shirt slide off his shoulders. You gasped when his chest was revealed, not even attempting to hide your astonishment.

He was so… Beautiful.

He groaned at the look on your face, cupping your cheeks and pressing a hot kiss against your mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He whispered against your lips, “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I could say the same for you,” You answered back, voice hoarse with desire, “Your pants, Jungkookie.” He pulled away and rose a brow at the nickname. You bit your bottom lip and smiled.

“Please?” The word slipped out of you - sweet as honey. He laughed.

“Alright,” He pressing a hand to your forehead and then started working on his belt buckle, “But only because you said please.”

You watched as your husband stepped out of his trousers - heart hammering against your chest as he stood glorious as ever, in a pair of tight, black boxers.

You knew what tonight might end with. You knew what you were offering up to him.

But the truth was… He’d had your heart… Your body… Your soul, since a long time ago.

So you weren’t scared. Quite the opposite in fact.

You were ready for this.

You were ready for him.

He kissed you again - fervently - and you felt the blood rise to the very tips of your ears. God. You loved him so much, it felt like you might burst.

He tugged his boxers down, and you felt him pressed up against your thigh. It might have made you anxious, were it anyone else, but with Jungkook it just felt… Right.

He pulled away slightly, eyes meeting your own, “Is this… Okay? Do you want to slow down?”

You shook your head quickly, hands coming up to cup his face.

“No. I want this.” You cleared your throat, “I want you Jungkook. Make me yours.”

Your husband’s eyes softened then, and you saw something deeper than just affection or lust. You saw something whole and full. Something you’d felt for him for so many years.

Your heart soared.

Could your husband learn to love you, too? “Okay,” He whispered against your lips, “It might hurt a little Angel. I’m sorry if it does.” You shook your head, “I don’t care Jungkook. As long as it’s with you.” His face seemed to melt then, like butter on a hot day, and his fingers pushed into you - opening you up for what you knew was coming.

And then he was inside you. He slid in gently, slowly, and though it hurt - you knew you could handle it. He stopped and pulled away slightly, hands moving your hair out of your face - eyes roving your features.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, and his lips were so close to your own it was like he was kissing you.

You nodded, “I’m fine. I promise. You can move, please.”

He smiled then - soft and caring - and you knew the love you had for him was shining in your eyes, but you didn’t really care. Not anymore.

When he started moving inside of you, you pressed your hands against his back, pulling him closer, wanting his skin against your own. He was so precious to you. So perfect.

And he was yours, wasn’t he?

He had to be.

His lips covered your own and you felt him tightening, tightening, tightening and you knew what was coming. He pulled back slightly, eyes screwed shut.

“Is it okay if I -”

You nodded quickly, frantically, “Anything you want Jungkook. Anything.” His eyes opened then and they were so beautiful - so open and honest and you felt like you might drown in them.

And the words slipped out of you, before you even really knew what was happening.

“I love you,” You whispered just as Jungkook reached the peak of his pleasure.

His eyes widened as they met yours, and you smiled.

Even if he didn’t love you back… It didn’t matter. Because he was yours.

He had to be.

He collapsed on top of you after he was finished, breathing heavily, and you enjoyed his closeness with open arms - running your fingers up and down his naked back. After a moment he pulled away - a small smile on his face.

“That was…”

“Amazing?” You supplied, grinning.

He pressed a hand to your cheek and kissed the side of your mouth, “Yeah. Amazing.” Your heart swelled.

Maybe all was not hopeless.

Your husband was gone when you woke the next morning.

His side of the bed was cold, and even though he wasn’t there to greet you, you were still warm from his touch.

Everything had changed between you… Hadn’t it?

It couldn’t stay the same.

Not after the way he’d kissed you. Not after the way he’d held you.

You sighed to yourself feeling light and frothy inside. He hadn’t said he loved you - but the way he’d looked at you last night…

He could learn to love you. Your marriage didn’t have to be cold and desolate as he’d promised you. Things were changing.

You stood slowly, legs sore and aching - and pulled a nightgown around you. It had been hours since you’d had a drink of water - and you blushed as you thought of how much exercise you’d actually endured since last night.

You tried to make yourself look as presentable as possible… But secretly, you sort of wanted all of the help to wonder if Jungkook had finally made you yours.

It was silly, maybe, but the thought of others knowing that your husband wanted you in any capacity, brought a glow to your skin.

You slipped your feet into some slippers and smiled to yourself, stepping out of your bedroom and almost skipping down the hallway.

It felt almost like you were floating on a cloud.

You started making your way towards the kitchen - intending to make yourself a quick breakfast - when you noticed that the door to Jungkook’s study was slightly ajar. You crept towards it, intending to surprise him with your presence, when you noticed he wasn’t alone.

Your heart swam all the way into your throat as you noticed that Jungkook was standing in front of a woman.

You couldn’t see her face - only the back of her head - but you knew it was a woman when she spoke.

“You promised you’d wait for me.” There was a tremble in her voice.

“I couldn’t… There wasn’t anything I could do. It was decided for me.”

Jungkook’s eyes were unreadable. You felt your chest tighten.

“This was why you kept me a secret,” You could hear the tears in her voice, “This was why you kept up the pretense of fucking around. So you could marry her?”

Your husband’s eyes widened and he stepped towards her, grabbing her by the arms.

“Keep your voice down Violetta,” His voice was soothing, “She’ll hear you.”

Her shoulders were shaking and you realised she was crying, “I don’t care Jungkook. I thought you loved me. Was I wrong?”

There was a long beat of silence. Your husband’s eyes softened then, and the mask dissolved.

“Violetta…”

And then she reached up and pulled your husband towards her. And she kissed him.

Your heart cracked right down the middle and you choked back a sob. Jungkook pulled away from her almost immediately - his eyes darting to meet with yours.

He’d heard you.

“Y/N!”

He moved away from Violetta and as you turned, your eyes connected with hers.

She was beautiful.

Your world crumbled like dust around you, and you spun around quickly, running towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut. You used the locks your husband had assured you were only a precaution, and fell to the ground - leaning against the surface of the portal.

After a moment, Jungkook’s voice came from the other side.

“Y/N.” You didn’t say anything.

“Y/N. Please. Open the door.”

The sobs started rolling through your body.

“Y/N… Please. Y/N please, let me talk to you.”

It was too late.

Too late.

You felt like you were collapsing in on yourself - like a dying star.

Violetta.

That was who he loved. Not you.

Never you.

#jungkook #kpop #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook mafia #mafia au #bts mafia au #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts arranged marriage au #kpop fanfiction

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years ago

Text

‘Till We Bleed Out - 3.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 3 of this series.

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real.

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst

“Calm down, sweetheart.”

He must’ve noticed you were on the verge of losing your mind. How could you not? You had so many questions. So many things you couldn’t wrap your brain around. What was the meaning of all this?

“What is this?” you pointed at the painting; scared, nervous and baffled.

Bucky walked further in, careful as to not make any sudden movement which would make you even more of a nervous wreck than you already were. “I’ll tell you everything, doll. Just calm down, alright. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m right here with you.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “Nothing to be scared of? There’s a painting of me and you dating back to 1872. That was almost a hundred and fifty years ago. But I met you just two days ago. None of this makes sense, none of it adds up. And that doesn’t bother you?” you sounded more sad and confused than scared. This isn’t normal. None of this is. “Who are you?”

Despite knowing that someone else in your shoes would be screaming bloody murder and running for their lives by now, you stayed put. Despite the confusion, you felt protected. Something inside you knew no harm would come to you while Bucky’s around. But the rational side of you couldn’t afford listening to that side of you right now. Right now your brain needed concrete answers, not reassurance.

“No. It doesn’t bother me.” He walked over and held you gently by the shoulders. “And if you let me explain, it won’t bother you either.” One look into his eyes and you felt yourself calming down already.

“Make this make sense.”

After he got you to sit down, in that very room, he began explaining.

“I’m not exactly human, Y/N.” His first few words earned him a nod from you.

“I figured that out a few minutes ago.”

He continued. “And neither were you, in your previous lifetime.” That sentence shocked you. You didn’t know what was more surprising, learning that there was indeed a lifetime before this one or the fact that in the previous one, you and Bucky knew each other. “We were both vampires.”

“Oh my God…”

He paused for a while, trying to be as slow and as careful as he could be with his words. “We were married, you and I. And we were happy.” He said so and waited for your reaction.

Your eyes watered and he noticed. “I’m… I was your wife?” you asked and he nodded. You thought back on all the things he told you about his wife; those were all about you. Your heart felt like it was being torn in two. “And I died.” he nodded again. “How did I die?”

He took a deep breath and lowered his eyes to the dark carpet beneath his feet, that memory was always the hardest to revisit. “Our families were not exactly… friendly. Yours hated mine, and vice versa so our marriage was not something they could bear.” He let out a dry chuckle. He continued, a strange fire in his eyes; burning hot hatred. “They kept trying to break us apart,” he smiled, sadly, “but we were strong. Together.” He looked back up at you. “Until one day…”

He stopped talking. He ran his fingers through his hair, he was hurting. You felt the intense need to just get up from the couch you were sat on, and walk over to where he sat and just comfort him. Maybe hug him and tell him it’s all okay now. But you remained seated, you couldn’t move.

“Bucky… I need to know.” You figured it was a delicate subject but you needed to piece it all together. You were a mess at the moment.

“We were returning home and we were attacked. By hunters.”

You sat up straighter. “Hunters?”

“Vampire hunters. Two different parties. Each anonymously hired and sent by our own families, ordered to have each of us killed. But you know, back then hunters had rivalry against each other as well. And ironically, the groups of hunters our family hired were not exactly seeing eye to eye with each other.” He let out another dry chuckle. “Upon reaching our home, they all forgot their initial purpose for a moment and began butchering one another instead, in the name of looming enmity. And you and I got caught in the crossfire. ”

He paused. If it were physically possible he would’ve shivered at the memory; so tragically vivid in his mind. You waited for him to continue. “But some of them also remembered that they had been ordered to kill us both, so our front yard quickly became a battlefield.” He sounded bitter, angry. “We fought them off for a while but we were terribly outnumbered. I was wounded, so were you, and I tried to reach you but…” he trailed off, took a deep breath and continued, “they got to you first.”

You tried to find the right thing to say but got nothing. Bucky spoke up again. “I was helpless. I couldn’t move. I had to watch as they… took you away from me.” He finally looked up at you and you were in shock. “Those sent by your family, what was left of them after the massacre at least, fled. Those sent by mine finished their job.” The look of hurt on his face was unbearable. “And I begged them. I begged them to kill me too but they just left me there.”

You felt a weight on your chest. That was brutal.

“You died at our doorstep.” He still remembered the last few moments he held you before you left…

He somehow managed to get up and stumbled on his way to you, bullets and sharp stakes pierced all over his body as well as yours. You weren’t gonna make it, and he knew but he still begged you to stay.

“You can’t leave me. You promised.” He cried, cradling your head on his lap. “Don’t leave me.”

He watched how you used the little bit of energy left to choke out a few words. “I’ll find you again. Someday. I promise…” your body was getting heavier and heavier. Bucky felt like he was dying too. “I love you, Buck.”

And with that, you closed your eyes forever. He sat there, your lifeless body in his arms and he screamed and yelled and cursed the universe. He was wounded, he would be healed by dawn. But you wouldn’t. He survived the attack that day, but part of him died along with you too.

You cleared your throat. “How do you… how did you know it’s me? How can you be sure? What if I just look like her?” you looked up at the painting and he did too.

He gave you a soft smile. “Chamomile and lavender tea is your favorite. You like red roses. You have a fear of deep water but you love the beach. You have this weird obsession with snakes. You love red wine. You could practically live in a library. Thunderstorms comfort you. You get a lot of déjà-vu, more than anyone you know. Also, you surely have a birthmark on your back, below your left shoulder. It perhaps hurts sometimes and you don’t know why, because regular birthmarks don’t hurt.”

Your eyes widened more and more as he spoke, but you gasped when he mentioned the birthmark. “How do you know that?” Very few people knew of your rather strange birthmark which tingled, burned and hurt sometimes.

“You were staked through the heart from the back. It left a mark on you.” He answered. “Forever.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to soak all this new information in. This was a lot to take in.

You cleared your throat again. “I was a vampire.” You stated. Bucky nodded. “I married you.” He nodded again. “I can’t- how do I-,”

“Hey, it’s a lot to take in. Take your time. Go to bed if you wish to.” His voice sounded so soft.

Oh you couldn’t sleep, not with all this. You shook your head no, you had questions. “How long were we married for?”

“Almost a century.” His answer made your jaw drop.

“How old are you?”

He chuckled. “250. Give or take a few years.”

“Oh my God,” you sighed, genuinely surprised. You thought back on all that he said earlier, about your families, and asked, “You said our families were against our relationship.” He nodded. “Well, where are they now?”

“Gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again. “After you left, I was unhinged. My memories of the couple of decades after your death is a little blurry. Apparently I went seeking revenge. But our friends found me and brought me back to sanity before I was gone completely and they told me that I had destroyed each and every last member of both our families.”

“You killed them.” It wasn’t a question.

“They deserved it. They took you away from me.” He sounded so broken, and hurt that you could feel your heart burn inside your ribcage.

“When you say ‘our friends’ you mean…” you trailed off not knowing how to put it.

He nodded. “Other vampires, yes. Most of them at least.”

“This is so crazy.” You mumbled, looking down at your lap. This was too much to handle all at once. Bucky got up from his seat and walked cautiously over to you.

He sat down on the edge of the wooden coffee table right in front of you and held his hand out. You placed your hand in his without a second thought. “You always had faith in the universe you know. You used to tell me that one single lifetime isn’t going to be enough for all the love that you and I have for each other. You used to always tell me that you’ll find me in the next one as well. And you did. You kept your promise. You’re home now, to me.”

You felt a tear slide down your cheek. Those words sounded so familiar. Bucky reached out and wiped the tear away. “I… I don’t remember. I mean, I’ve lived a whole life not knowing you were until just a few days ago and now… all this?”

He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles softly. “It’s almost dawn. You haven’t slept well. Get some rest, we’ll figure it out. We always did.”

You couldn’t argue. You needed to not think for a while, so you just nodded and got up. He didn’t follow you as you made your way to the bedroom and threw yourself down on the bed. You closed your eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

The next day, you spent most of your morning in the room; unable to leave the bed. Each time you thought back on all that was revealed to you last night, your head hurt. Wanda was kind enough to come in and leave you your meals. She didn’t say a word, just polite smiles. Bucky came by as well, each hour or so to check up on you. You weren’t ready to talk yet. He understood.

You spent the rest of the day looking out of the window, into the vast backyard. The weather was still gloomy, much like your mood.

After dinner, Bucky came by again. With tea this time. You gladly accepted the cup, remembering how it helped you sleep better the other night. Bucky was about to walk out but you stopped him.

“Stay. Please.” You said, your voice a little strained because you had cried earlier, unable to understand the wave of emotion which washed over you. He rushed to sit next to you, on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been having dreams.” you confessed.

“What kind of dreams?”

“About you. About us, together. About ballrooms I’ve never been in, about people I haven’t met. And this house, ever since I got here it feels like I’ve... “ you trailed off, unable to find the right words. Or maybe the words were too crazy for you to utter them out loud.

He finished your sentence. “Like you’ve lived here before?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

He smiled. “It’s because you have. This is your home, our home. Those aren’t dreams, they’re your memories.”

Another tear fell down your cheek. Well, that made sense now. That would explain why your ‘dreams’ were so detailed.

Bucky stayed and talked to you until you felt sleepy. He kissed you on the forehead, whispering a ‘goodnight’ once you got under the covers and was about to walk out of the room but you stopped him, yet again.

“There’s something else.” you said.

He stopped right at the door and turned around to face you, “Yes?”

“The day I got here, when you opened the door, I…” you reminded yourself that he deserves to know, “I felt this pressing need to tell you that I finally found you. I didn’t understand what that meant then.”

For the first time in a long time, Bucky genuinely smiled. And it was breathtaking. His smile was gorgeous, contagious. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.” He left.

You fell asleep rather quickly. And dreamt, again...

Kisses under a grand chandelier. Blue eyes, laughter and wine. Pure bliss.

“We should get going, sweetheart. It’s late.” Bucky whispered, holding you close. “And I can’t share you any longer. I need you all to myself now.” He kissed along your jaw, making you giggle.

Home. At last. Only just as you got down from the carriage, you realized something was wrong. Pain, pain everywhere.

Bullets, stakes, sticks, stones - everything hurt. You heard someone screaming as you were being dragged away from Bucky. It was you. You begged for mercy, but you didn’t receive any. Then suddenly, a spot on your back burned. It hurt more than anything you’ve ever experienced. You realized you were being staked through the heart, and it was too late. You couldn’t fight back.

The pain, although excruciating, was replaced by fear. Fear of having to leave Bucky behind. Bucky… where was he?

Your vision got blurry, you fell to the ground. You tried to call out for him but no sound came out of your mouth. You were fading away. But then you saw a pair of dark eyes which slowly turned blue and teary.

“Don’t leave me…”

“I’ll find you, I promise.” All the years you spent with him flashed in front of your eyes. Your wedding, and the decades of pure happiness which followed. “I’ll find you…”

You woke up gasping again, covered in goosebumps. You had a terrible headache as it all came to you at once; memories of a forgotten lifetime. You struggled to breathe; it felt like being hit by a violent wave and being pushed deeper beneath the surface. Your birthmark burned hot. And your lungs felt like they were on fire.

You sat there in bed, breathing hard and fast as you remembered everything. You realized you had tears streaming down your face. It was all too much, but you kept searching for more. And the more you looked the more you found. You felt like you were about to pass out.

1802, when you first met Bucky. Married in 1808. You died about 90 years after that. You remembered. You remembered it all now. Your cruel family, and his. The bloodshed of that night. And how you died at the doorstep of this mansion. This mansion… your home. You knew this place like the back of your hand. This is your home.

You’re home.

You called out, not too loud, knowing he would hear you still. “Bucky!” you held back sob. How did you survive all these years? Without him?

“Bucky!” you called out again, crying out loud this time. You heard his footsteps running down the hall. And your heart raced.

You had been so close to your home this whole time, so close to Bucky, in the same town. You just didn’t know.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #vampire!bucky #bucky smut #marvel au #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x you

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Thick And Thin (one-shot)

Synopsis: He never thought his wife would ever even think about divorce. They had problems, which is why they were at marriage counselling. But he never knew her heart had broken a long time ago. And he’d been the one to break it before they even got together.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: aaaaaaannnnggggssssttt baby, just wanted to write something that’d rip your heart out :)

Warnings: swearing, pain, kinda depressive (??), can’t think of anything else really, but please let me know if there is, also not my best work lol :D

Word count: 7102 (let’s start off the New Year with loads of pain :) )

Italics are flashbacks

“I want a divorce.”

Never in Harry’s life did he think he’d have to hear those words. Not after everything they’d been through, not after all of the effort he’d been putting in to save their relationship.

Those words had not only stunned him but their marriage councillor, the woman’s mouth open mid-word, as she tried to comprehend what was happening. Harry was fairing even worse. It was like his brain was short-circuiting, synapses broken and no longer sending any signals.

“Mrs Styles, I know it’s difficult,” the therapist tried to diffuse the situation. “But the reason you’re here is to avoid this specifically.”

“I don’t remember how you smell anymore,” Y/N continued not listening to the woman, voice like a black void, but her Y/E/C eyes rimmed with tears. “Or taste. I don’t remember how it feels to have you pressed up against me or what it’s like to hear your voice. I… I don’t have anything to cling onto anymore.”

“It’s why we're here!” he cried through clenched teeth, slipping on his knees before her, hands grasping Y/N’s in a vice-like grip. “It’s why we’re trying.”

The laugh she let out was detached and without any love. “We tried it your way, Harry.” She’d never called him Harry before. It was always Lover. “And it’s not working for me. It hasn’t from the start. We’re… we’re so unhappy. And I don’t want that for you or for me. We deserve happiness. But I don’t think we can give that to one another anymore.” She took in a shaky breath, looking down at Harry’s hands in her lap. “When I thought of it, at first I felt horrible. I wanted to throw myself off somewhere, but the more I sat on that thought, the more relieved I felt.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, didn’t want to believe it. “Relieved?” The word felt like acid in his mouth.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Relieved. Because this choice won’t make us hurt one another anymore. This gives us a chance to have a fresh start.”

“I don’t want a fresh start! We said – we said through thick and thin.” He was grasping onto the last straw he could find. “This is the thin, but we’ll get through it.”

“Harry, I already broke through the thin. And now I’m drowning. And when the thick comes, I’ll either be frozen under it and watch you walk further, or I’ll surface somewhere, and I don’t know on which side of the shore I’m gonna be on and where you’ll be. And if you try to get me, you’ll start drowning too. I don’t want that.”

“But that’s what marriage is! Going through the tough shit together!”

“Harry… I already asked Lionel to draw up the papers. The first draft is done.”

His blood froze in his veins.

“When you said to sit down and write one thing that makes me happy about the relationship,” Y/N was looking at the therapist now, “about the person, I – I couldn’t. Because I kept thinking back to the start, to the beginning. That’s what made me happy. But now…” She glanced at Harry. “If there was one thing, I couldn’t do to you, not in a moment like this, is lie. I just… I don’t remember how to be happy with you.”

***

They’d started out as the cliché of best-friends-lose-contact-only-to-be-reunited-and-not-let-their-chance-pass-by-and-fall-in-love. She was ten when she’d moved in next door to him and he was twelve when he’d seen the three vans full up to the house, a little girl hopping out from one of them. Harry watched as she rushed up the doorstep and put in a key, unlocking it and a new chapter of her life with it. Little did he know she’d unlocked a new chapter of his life as well.

She was the new kid at school, and despite the fact that he was a year above, he sat down next to her at lunch.

“ ’M ‘arry,” he said through a mouthful of a sandwich. “Saw you move in yesterday.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

And that was the start of a blooming friendship.

On her eleventh birthday, he gave her a handmade bracelet. She gave him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you, making Harry blush all shades of pink and red.

He was thirteen when he had his first real kiss on his birthday. Y/N had simply tried to peck him on the cheek, but he’d turned his head, and her mouth had ended up on his. She’d walked away with a shy smile and ears on fire.

She was thirteen when a boy first asked her out. Harry was the first person she told him about it. That was the first time his heart broke.

When he was fifteen, he got his first girlfriend. Y/N was fourteen when her heart broke for the first time.

And then he'd gone on X-factor and with that forgotten about her. She called him, texted him, messaged him on social media, but usually, she’d maybe get only one picture or a small ‘miss you too’ as a response. So, after a whole year apart, she gave up. What was the point of trying to save anything when he didn’t want to?

He moved on and became an international superstar. Y/N moved on and graduated top of her class, got into her first-choice university, and graduated with a first as well. He had some relationships here and there, while Y/N had had a steady relationship since the second year of uni, but when she decided to go to a different one for her masters they amicably broke up.

Eight years later she was sitting at a café in London, laughing with her ex-boyfriend and catching up, as he explained how what Criminal Minds showed wasn’t really what was taught in his criminology degree classes.

“I’m still saying I dated real-life Spencer Reid,” Y/N chuckled, sipping on her gingerbread latte. “Don’t give a shit, I need something to flex with.”

Harry had then walked inside the café, shaking off the snow from his boots when a familiar laugh he hadn’t heard in ages invaded his senses. It was almost like he’d stepped into a dream.

When his green eyes befell on the owner of the voice, he had to take a double-take. Somehow in his brain, he’d expected the fifteen-year-old teenager, a t-shirt of his face on her body, as she’d cheered him on when he’d gone onto his first concert as part of One Direction to be sitting in the chair, not the grown-up woman.

He’d still checked in with Y/N through what she posted on her social media, but as much as he’d promised not to have the celebrity life sweep him away, it had. Harry sometimes had two concerts a day, and he barely had a moment to take a bite of food. And he hated to admit it, but Y/N simply slipped from his life. And he didn’t bother to put in the effort to pull her back.

A huge wave of guilt and longing rushed through his body as he glanced at the woman, her face lit up by joy as she and the man before her continued on with their conversation.

Someone tapped on his shoulder, making him turn around and face another customer. “You gonna order anything?”

For a moment Harry stuttered. He could walk away without inserting himself back into Y/N’s life, but he didn’t want that. He’d missed her. Harry didn’t even realise how much he’d missed her.

“You go ahead.” He motioned with his hand. “I’m still thinking.”

Harry took in a deep breath and then walked towards where the pair was sitting.

The man’s eyes flitted up to see who was towering over Y/N, only for them to widen, and his mouth hang open.

A sense of pride filled Harry's chest at the reaction and maybe quenched a little bit of the jealousy invading his body. He used to be the one who made Y/N laugh until she had to tell him to stop or she’d pee herself. He was back to take up the role.

“You okay there, Dan?” she chuckled. “Don’t tell me there’s a ghost behind my back. I told him not to walk out of the flat wit –“ Y/N had turned around and almost choked on her drink. “Oh my god, Harry! Oh – hi!” She jumped up hugging him, feeling how his body shook with laughter at her reaction, strong arms weaving around her middle. “Holy shit, it’s really you!”

“Yeah, ‘s me. Who else?”

“I didn’t know you were back in the UK.”

A warmth spread through his chest, as he reluctantly pulled away from the hug. “Been checking in on me?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, sitting back down, but pulling up a third chair for Harry to sit upon. “Dan’s a huge fan.” She motioned with her head to the man. “When we first started dating, I thought he was only doing it because we used to be friends, and he hoped I’d set you up or something.”

Harry masked the choke of envy by clearing his throat and letting out an awkward chuckle. “Hope I’m not interrupting a date or something.”

“A catch-up date, but not a date date.” Dan lifted his brows at Y/N, who gave him a ‘don’t start this’ look to which he threw up his hands in surrender. “I’m just making conversation.”

“You’re being annoying, that’s what you are.” Y/N flicked a crumb from the table towards him.

It was in that moment that it truly hit how much he’d missed, and it hit him hard he no longer knew the person who once was his best friend.

“You’re different,” Harry said, looking over at her trying to keep the lump in his throat from making his voice break.

Y/N shrugged, eyes twinkling. “I mean it has been almost a decade. I do hope I don’t look the same as I did then. Otherwise, the pain of braces was of no use.”

“No,” he chuckled shaking his head. “’S not that… It’s like you’re a different person.”

“I grew up,” she said, sipping on the last bits of her drink. “ ’M not the same fifteen-year-old you saw last.”

He nodded and bit his lip. But the thing was, Harry wasn’t the stupid sixteen-year-old that left the fifteen-year-old her either. This time, he wouldn’t let the chance at happiness pass him by when he could’ve had it all along.

***

He sat across from Y/N at the large marble table and watched, heart bleeding out in his chest as she put her signature on the papers, her attorney fishing out something from his briefcase and handing it to her under the table. He saw her shoulders shudder before she placed a maroon rectangle with a golden inscription on it in her own purse. Harry wanted to vomit. It was her new passport, where her surname no longer matched his, where he no longer existed, inscribed into the document as her spouse.

“Mr Styles?” Y/N’s lawyer pushed the papers his way, the pen laying atop them. “’S your turn.”

‘Your turn’, as if it was a game of spin the bottle or UNO.

“Don’t make me,” he choked out, pleading with Y/N one last time. “Please don’t make me do this. Don’t make me give up on us.”

Her words were worse than a knife to his soul. “You can’t give up on something that’s no longer there.”

When they’d been at the stage of negotiation, he’d kept pushing for giving her at least half of his income, to give her one of the houses they owned together, but she’d turned everything down.

“I didn’t marry you for your money, Harry.” He’d expected her voice to be full of venom, but it wasn’t. It was sad, resigned. “I don’t want what you’ve earned.”

“Let me give you at least something.”

“I don’t want anything from you. If it makes you feel any better, you can donate whatever amount you wanted to give me. I don’t care. All I want from this is for you to sign the papers.”

“And if I can’t?”

Y/N sighed, looking down at the table. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

That’s when her attorney had cleared his throat. “Mrs Sty – Y/L/N. Legally, according to the prenup, you are entitled to half of Mr Styles estate as well as twenty percent of all his earnings.”

But Y/N just shook her head. “I only signed those documents because that’s what he and his agent wanted. I never asked for it or anything or the sort. Donate it, for all I care. Buy a new house, Harry I literally don’t want to know what you do with your money.” Y/N took in a sharp breath and calmed herself down. It’d been the first time Harry had heard any sort of emotion from her since she'd spoken those horrible words. “I just want this over with.”

And now, he was at the moment of the end. He just never thought their story would end with broken hearts and ripped up futures.

His handwriting was barely legible at best of times, but right now it seemed as if a toddler had tried to forge it with how much his hand shook. When the pen dropped, so did his shoulders, and he saw Y/N’s drop as well.

Harry’s with weight from the love lost, Y/N’s with relief, for now their broken hearts wouldn’t hurt one another no longer.

His lawyer handed him over a new passport as well, where Y/N was no longer written as his spouse. The urge to rip it to shreds was almost uncontainable. He hated it more than the divorce papers.

***

They’d been dating for a little over two years when he decided to propose, only every plan he had was miserably ruined by some outside force.

The first time he’d decided he’d do it at a romantic dinner. Harry had found out Y/N wasn’t a fan of huge romantic gestures, so he wouldn’t get on one knee and draw everyone’s attention. He’d simply take her hand in his, kiss her fingers and ask.

But as they’d sat at the table enjoying their meal and talking, he noticed Y/N become quieter and quieter. A frown morphed on his face.

“You alright, Lovie?”

“Umm,” Y/N’s brow creased even more, and she dropped her fork. “I umm I don’t know. ‘M feeling kind of funky?”

“What’dya mean?”

“I – “ Y/N opened her mouth but didn’t manage to get anything else out as she jumped up and rushed towards the ladies room.

Harry quickly dropped his own utensils and rushed after her, not bothering with the yells of the woman who was looking at herself in the mirror, while his girlfriend threw up her guts inside one of the toilets.

A member of the staff had run to see what all the commotion was about, but when he saw Y/N half inside a stall, half outside, Harry’s hands keeping her hair away from her face, he went back out and immediately grabbed the first aid kit they had in the kitchen, handing it to Harry along with a cold wet towel.

Y/N shuddered, leaning against the stall wall sweat glistening on her face, as he pressed the damp cloth against her skin. She gave him half a smile. “Told you not to get the shrimp.”

“I’ll get the cab, Lovie.” He smoothed away the once meticulously styled hair, which was now stuck to her damp skin.

But she shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to puke again.”

In the end, she threw up two more times, her stomach really not agreeing with the entrée. The waiters kept apologising the whole time, and the chef had stopped cooking, the restaurant immediately taking action and refunding everyone who’d ordered anything with shrimps in them.

When they’d gotten back home, Y/N was so tired and felt so sick, Harry could only help her get out of the dress, clean her up with a warm towel and wrap her up in her favourite pyjamas before curling up together on his bed and falling asleep, making sure if there was a moment, she felt nauseous again, he was by her side. She needed his help more than he needed to propose.

***

He threw himself into his work like a madman. Day and night, he was either at a studio, on a filming lot, in between meetings or interviews. The media buzzed about how his marriage had fallen apart, even though Y/N hadn’t made a statement or spoken a word to anyone, and neither had Harry. But he guessed the emptiness of his ring finger gave everything away.

He refused, however, to speak on it. As painful as it was, he was still in love with Y/N. She hadn’t chosen to be in the spotlight, it was Harry’s world, not hers, so he respected her decision to be quiet and remained so himself, save for one single post his management had asked for him to put up. It'd also been the last time he'd spoken to her.

All he received was a simple text message 'do what you have to do'.

A couple of months down the line though, something came up, and Harry couldn’t keep his tongue behind his teeth.

It was an article in The Sun, a photograph of Y/N plastered all over the front page with the words ‘Gold-digger Y/L/N finally seen out after divorce with Harry Styles.” He’d snatched the paper right off the stand and flipped it open, frantic green eyes scanning the words.

‘Despite it only being two months since the two childhood ex-best friends broke up, Y/N Y/L/N was already seen in the company of a man, sharing a drink, and giving one another flirtatious smiles. An inside source tells us, how she hadn’t even been that upset about the divorce and has been going out and having fun with many male companions, one of them being her ex-boyfriend from university times.’

‘Harry Styles, known for his time in the pop boyband One Direction and for his solo endeavours in music as well as dabbling in acting, broke everyone’s belief in true love after being seen in public without a ring. This prompted an announcement that the four-year relationship and two-year marriage to who was once his best friend had ended and the two had decided to get a divorce. Although the post showed a picture of their silhouettes holding one another with their foreheads together, and his statement showed nothing but love and respect for his then-wife, sources say Y/N had been controlling and obsessive over her then-husband and hadn’t wanted him to leave to pursue his career, stifling his growth.’

He didn’t bother to read any further, as he pulled out his phone, calling Jeff immediately to figure out how to make all of it go away, how to do at least one thing right.

“They’re dragging her name through the mud!” he sneered, not even caring he was bumping shoulders with people, and if the paparazzi would dare spin a story of the state he was in at that moment, he’d sue each and every one of them personally. “I have to do something. Fuck, Jeff, I love her! I can’t let them paint her like this. Y/N – “ he choked back a lump. “She never asked for this. Didn’t ask for anything. And that man – that was Dan, okay. I know him. Yes, he’s her ex, but they don’t know anything!”

“Harry I’ve sent them cease-and-desist letters already.” Jeff tried to ease him. “But… she’s no longer your concern Har.”

The words hit him like a bullet and ripped a hole in his chest just like one of them would. “You might still love her,” Jeff’s voice was solemn. “But Y/N is no longer yours to protect.”

“I can’t just let them talk shit about her,” Harry whispered back.

His friend sighed on the other side of the line. “I know. Which is why we’ll deal with it. But you have to start letting her go.”

***

The second time Harry wanted to propose was about a month later, and Christmas was right around the corner. They’d decided that Christmas Eve would be spent with his sister, her boyfriend and Anne, while Christmas Day they’d go to Y/N’s side of the family.

Although they’d settled on one gift each, Harry had been carrying around that small box for what felt like an eternity. And it wouldn’t really be a gift, given how he’d wrap it and hang it in the tree.

“It’s an ornament,” he’d say to her, a smug smile on his lips, as Y/N would roll her eyes at him. “Just because it has your name on it, doesn’t mean it’s immediately a present.”

And then she’d open it, and would gasp, and Harry would slide down on his knee, press a kiss to her ring-free finger before asking that fateful question.

But just like before, his plan didn’t come to fruition.

He’d asked his mother to hang up the little box, so there was no chance of Y/N seeing it in his hands, but what he hadn’t thought of was Gemma’s boyfriend had decided on the exact same plan of action.

When Michal had dropped down on his knee, Harry’s sister’s trembling hand in his, he couldn’t do that to them. As much as he wanted to marry Y/N, he couldn’t take away Gemma’s moment. So while Y/N was preoccupied with looking at the gleaming diamond on Gemma’s finger, Harry plucked down the box from where it’d hung and placed it on the side no one could see, before he could put it in his bag.

“ ’M sorry, honey,” Anne had said to him over coffee the next morning. “I didn’t know Michal would do that.”

He’d just shaken his head, no hurt in his heart. “Great minds think alike. Our moment will come. ‘M happy for Gem. Besides, if he hadn’t done that anytime soon, I would’ve needed to have a stern talking.”

***

What his sister said to him made him think he had to be living in a simulation, because it couldn’t be true. Y/N couldn’t be getting married. Not this soon. Not ever. Not to someone who wasn’t him. It had been barely a year since he’d signed the death sentence to his own happiness.

Harry shook his head. “You’re lying. Tell me you’re lying, Gem.”

“I’m not.” Her voice broke as she said it. “I saw her at a café. Saw the ring… the man who gave it to her. Harry, I’m so sorry.”

His mind reeled with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to. Was that why she’d really divorced him? Had she been cheating on him and just needed an excuse out of their relationship to jump into the new one? He was away so much on their relationship, he wouldn’t have been surprised if someone else had swooped in and tried to win her heart.

Harry’s mind was one of the greatest things he’d been blessed him, but also one of the worst curses bestowed upon him, as it weaved a story of Y/N and the man who’d now put a gleaming ring on her finger.

He was away, like always, doing something he could do another time. She was on her own, keeping their bed warm with just her body, fighting for their relationship on her own, while he made plans once more to go to a different part of the world and leave her behind again.

Y/N pulled herself out of the bed, sighing and rubbing her face. She opened their closet only to be greeted with Harry’s half empty. Maybe that was the moment she decided to find someone who’d fill it and wouldn’t leave it permanently empty, Harry conjured up.

She’d dress in a soft jumper and some jeans, a large cardigan hanging over her body and would go to a café for her morning drink. And that’s where she’d meet him. The stranger that would take her out of the lonely life she’d been living. The stranger that would make a smile bloom on her face and her heart stutter once more. The stranger who would show her the love Y/N deserved to have.

Harry had to shake his head to get rid of the thoughts before they ventured into a worse territory.

No. Y/N wasn’t like that. No matter what, she would never cheat on him. She had enough dignity for herself and respect for him, even though in his own mind, Harry didn’t think he deserved it.

Although he didn’t have a right to, nor was it the sanest move (and if someone saw him doing it, there would probably be a slew of articles), Harry got into his car and drove to where Y/N’s apartment was, and when she opened the door after hearing seven loud knocks, he stepped inside without even waiting for her to invite him.

“You’re getting married?”

She crossed her arms. “It’s none of your concern.”

“It’s been barely a year! I refuse to believe you’ve moved on so fast.”

Maybe he was kidding himself, and Y/N truly had, but as much as their marriage had fallen apart, he did have the honour of having known her and having figured some things out deeper than others would.

Y//N scoffed. “I was proposed to. And I said yes.” The words were like venom entering his veins. “If I wasn’t, then I wouldn’t have agreed to it. And as I already said – it is none of your concern.”

Harry stood there, watching as she dragged a hand down her face, eyes flitting everywhere he wasn’t. It told him everything he needed to know.

“You’re not happy,” he whispered stepping forward and reaching for her hand. “I know how you shine when you’re truly happy. This isn’t it. Why are you doing this?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

Harry was so confused, at a complete loss at what Y/N was saying. “So, you’ll what? Get married to him and be miserable? Why the hell did you divorce me then?”

Y/N sighed. “Being unhappy with him isn’t as unbearable as being unhappy with you. Because with you, I know what it feels like to truly fully loved. Which is why it broke me when you stopped.”

“I never stopped!” Harry whisper yelled, anger coursing through his veins at her words, because they were lies. “Why do you think I dragged us to marriage counselling? Why do you think I kept fighting for us? For you?! You were the one that gave up!”

“You weren’t there when I needed you.”

Harry blinked rapidly, not understanding what she meant.

“You left me for ten years. You forgot all about me until that day at the café. Not once did you message me or call me or even send fucking snail mail. I was the one putting in all the effort, I was the one who was trying to keep you in my life, but you didn’t want it. Just like it was when we were married.”

Rage bubbled under the surface, but he kept it at bay. That was not how he’d get Y/N back. “How?” he asked calmly. “How did I not want it?”

She scoffed shaking her head. “It was the same as it was ten years ago. With the movie, the new album... You were always at the studio or hanging out with your castmates. When I asked for you to free up one night, one single night, you didn’t come back until three AM, drunk off your ass, and I had to take care of you. I asked for one night. And you didn’t even give me that. So forgive me for not feeling like you still loved me.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me then?!”

“I did!” This was the first time he’d ever heard Y/N yell, before kneading her lips tightly together and then continuing more quietly. “But you never heard me. Not really. You heard what I asked, and promised to be there, but when the time came… something more important always came up. Something that always deserved to have the promise you gave me to be broken.” Y/N gave him a sad smile. “Do you remember when you first asked me out? And I said no?”

Harry nodded. “You said that we just got one another back and didn’t want to have anything rip us apart again. Didn’t even want to chance it.”

“And you said it was exactly why I should give us a chance. That we’d finally found one another again and shouldn’t let the opportunity go…” She tilted her head. “Guess we should’ve listened to me. I included.”

He couldn’t believe her. “Is that really your takeaway here? You were right?”

“But I was.” Y/N shrugged. “Look at where we are now. You forgot me for basically ten years.” She shrugged, stepping away. “Give it some time, and you’ll forget me for the rest of your life. Besides, we’ve not known one another longer than we have. So, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

“Why did you then? Go out with me?” Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. “Get married to me?”

For a moment Y/N just looked at him, Y/E/C eyes boring into his green ones. “Because I’d once again convinced myself I was important to you, just like I did when we were teens. And in my head, I had dreamt up that maybe I’d be important enough for you not to forget me.”

***

The third time did the charm though.

They were both sleepy, under the covers of Harry’s bed, eyes barely keeping open as they were determined to finish Elf.

Y/N had her cheek pressed against his chest, bare body next to his naked one. She hated sleeping in pyjamas (unless they were staying over at one of their parent’s places,) because she said it made her feel like the clothes were suffocating her. Harry didn’t like sleeping with pyjamas because all he wanted was to fully feel the skin of his lover next to his.

Snow fell behind the large windows of his London penthouse apartment, covering the city in a white blanket. It rarely snowed there, so he watched with warmth in his heart as the flakes fluttered to the ground.

It was all so calm, so serene, that Harry realised that’d been the moment he’d been waiting for. No need for fancy dinners or present it as a loud gift. Being together was a gift enough.

“Lovie?” he asked, nose hidden in her hair. “You awake?”

All he received in answer was a small hum. She was on the verge of passing out, but this was the moment, so, he whispered the question, voice so low as if he was asking the dark to marry him not Y/N.

He couldn’t look at her, afraid of what she might say, afraid she might say no, think back to the times he wasn’t there for her, think of all the reasons why he wasn’t good enough for her, and would only bring her sorrow.

“Lover.” Her voice was as soft as a summer’s morning. “Look at me. Please.”

It was one of the most frightening things in his life, as he did so.

Y/E/C eyes met green. What he saw on her face allowed his heart to calm down a little.

“Is the Sun the closest star to us?”

That he hadn’t expected. “What?”

“Does it rise in the East and set in the West?”

“Y-yes?”

Her hand cupped his cheek, and he melted against her. “Then why are you asking me a question you know the answer will be the same as to those?”

“Can I put the ring on your finger then?” He was more excited than about anything in his life.

Y/N shook her head, bringing his lips to brush against hers. “Don’t need a ring. Just need you to kiss me.”

***

The wedding was far away from the city so that no one from the press could even think about following her or her entourage. The guest list was small, compared to the three hundred people Harry’s and her wedding had had.

Anne had told him not to go. He wasn’t invited, and neither was she or Gemma, for obvious reasons. As much as Y/N loved them, she knew it’d hurt the two women, but it would hurt Harry more. So seeing her stepping out of the car, dressed in a cream wedding gown, a veil covering her face, made flashbacks appear behind Harry’s eyelids.

She’d worn an off-white gown before as well, dusty rose to be exact. And Harry’s bow tie had matched it. Y/N had never liked the thought of wearing white at her wedding.

“Listen, if it’s white, I’ll most definitely spill something on it,” she’d told him as both of them had been flipping through some wedding magazines. “You know me. But if it’s some other colour, there’s a bigger chance no one will notice when that happens.”

It didn’t seem right to him. It was like a bad fever-dream like he’d had that one time, and Y/N had had to listen to him babble about the hallucinations dancing in front of him because of the high temperature.

Her gaze remained on the ground, or maybe on the bucket of white roses in her hands. She hated white roses.

A woman in a pale blue dress straightened out the back of Y/N’s dress and the train of it, and he watched as her mother came to stand beside her daughter, giving her an elbow to grasp onto.

All he wanted was for Y/N to be happy, and it hurt to think it wasn’t with him because Harry believed it was supposed to be him.

He took in a shaky breath and got out of the car just as Y/N had walked up the steps and disappeared behind the double doors.

It was going to be him.

***

Harry knew he wasn’t the best husband in the world. He was away for a lot of time, and as conceited of an excuse it was, his job did entail going out to parties, mingling with other people living the high life, and being seen with certain celebs.

Y/N was never one for it. She always supported Harry, but she didn’t like going out and spending time with people who didn’t care for her existence. Well, maybe they did, but only in a sense that she’d been the lucky bitch who’d snagged up the Harry Styles.

But if there was something Harry did was love, and he loved wholeheartedly, which is why it absolutely destroyed him when he’d gotten back home one evening and heard Y/N crying in their bathroom.

She’d never tell him, but it was because no longer did his pillow smell like him. Harry had been away for so long, that the essence of him that’d soaked into their sheets was no longer there. And it broke her to pieces.

When he’d get home, he’d be so tired, he’d crash on the couch, only tiptoeing his way into their shared room to go to his closet and get some clean clothes in the morning. He’d look over at his sleeping wife and allow a blissful smile to bloom on his face at the sight.

He was so lucky to have Y/N back in his life. He was so lucky she’d accepted him and fallen for him as he’d fallen for her. He’d silently move over and press a kiss to her temple, before going back down and off to work once more. Only he wouldn’t see the dried tears on her cheeks.

So, when he’d found her curled up in the tub, hands in her hair, face hidden by her knees, frame trembling like leaves in a storm, he instantly dropped to his knees, ignoring the sharp pain shooting through his bones, as he pulled Y/N into him.

“I can’t, Harry,” she choked out, shaking her head. He knew it was bad. She never called him by his name. “I can’t do this. I’m so alone. Even when you’re here, I’m alone.”

Harry had had his heart broken before, and always he wondered afterwards if someone took it out of his chest at that moment, what kind of a sound would it make. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it’d be as silent as the tears running down his face at Y/N’s confession.

“Maybe,” he swallowed harshly trying to keep his whole body from shaking, from showing the fear her statement instilled in him. “Maybe we need couple’s therapy.”

“What?” her eyebrows had shot up to the middle of the forehead.

“Y/N, we’re clearly having problems. I – I know I need to work on things, but you’re also not telling me how you’re feeling. Maybe we just need some help.”

She didn’t really know what to respond. In her mind, Y/N had somehow conjured up an image that if she ever got married, they’d be happy. Sure, they’d fight and have rows, but they’d always be able to work things out on their own. Not once in her life, did she ever think she’d need to go and see a marriage counsellor to help her save her marriage.

Her own parents much like Harry’s had gotten divorced. Hers had tried therapy. It’d been their last resort. It didn't work. So, when he’d mentioned it to her, that’s what made her decide it was truly over.

Y/N nodded, bringing him in for a hug, and felt his body melt into hers with relief.

She’d try, for Harry, but her mind was already made up.

***

So he stood outside the doors, listening for the line of ‘if there is anyone who opposes this union speak up now, or forever hold your peace’. His hand grasped the handle, ready to push, but… he couldn’t. He’d ruined her happy ever after once before. He couldn’t do that again to her.

Tears streamed down his face as he pocketed his hands and ventured away from the ceremony. The ceremony where the love of his life was promising to cherish someone else, to fight through thick and thin with someone else, to make someone else happy, while her own happiness suffered.

Harry sat in his car, waiting for her to exit, a smile on her face as she’d hold the hand of who now was her husband. That'd be the moment he'd let go of her. But when the doors sprung open, she was alone, hands clutching onto the front of her dress, as she rushed down the steps and back inside the car she’d arrived in.

For a second he sat in his vehicle, stunned beyond belief at what had happened, at what, as horrible as it sounded, he hoped had happened. When a man, hand in his hair ran outside as well, the same woman in the pale blue dress rushing out with him, Harry knew.

He was basically a madman on the road, breaking almost every possible law as he tried to catch up to the car Y/N had jumped in.

His mind raced with the possibilities of where she could’ve gone. The airport, her family’s summer house in Winchester, honestly anywhere in the world, but Harry shut up his mind, and allowed his heart to make the decision.

It didn’t seem like Y/N had premeditated fleeing from her wedding, which meant she’d need her stuff. And that meant going to her apartment as quickly as possible before someone came to look for her.

The way he parked was probably illegal leaving the car basically in the middle of the road, but Harry didn’t care much as he frantically rushed up the steps of her apartment complex. He was scared that if he knocked, she wouldn’t open, thinking it might be someone from the wedding, but he didn’t need to be afraid of it, as he saw Y/N, her hair still styled as it had been for the ceremony, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a suitcase in hand exiting from the flat.

“Why didn’t you do it?” he breathlessly asked, startling her and making her drop the keys.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? What are you doing here?”

Harry stepped closer, hand cupping her cheek, insides trembling from all of the emotions coursing through his body. “Why didn’t you do it? Marry him? Why didn’t you say yes?”

“I – “ Y/N choked on her words. “I couldn’t say yes. It didn’t feel right.”

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t you, I was saying yes to.”

That was all Harry needed to kiss her like he'd done once before. And this time, he wasn’t going to let her go. He’d made that mistake twice. He would never repeat it again.

“I love you,” he cried through a laugh. “I love you. I love you. I love you. And I’m never letting you slip through my fingers ever again.”

“How can you even think about loving me again after what I did to us?” she asked, pulling away from his lips.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re talking like I ever stopped. Through thick and thin. It’s what we promised. Think and thin, my Lovie."

***

A sixteen-year-old Harry and a fifteen-year-old Y/N laid outside in the grass of Harry’s garden; eyes trained onto the dark night starlit sky above. It was the day before his life changed forever as did hers.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Harry asked, trying to catch a glimpse of a shooting star.

Y/N scrunched up her nose. “No. I don’t think I do. And I don’t think I want one.”

“Why not?”

“What if they’re old and in their thirties? Or dead?”

Harry snorted at her response.

“And you?” Y/N turned her head to look at him. “Do you believe in soulmates?

He bit his lip and nodded. “I think I do. I think it’s two people who’ve been brought together, and no matter what happens will find their way to one another. Through thick and thin.”

"And what if one of them breaks the other's heart?"

"That's the thin." He looked at her. "And you don't give up then. It's when you need to love them even more."

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

A/N: Happy 2021 everyone! Hopefully things are better this year, and everyone stays safe and sound.

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my fics on other platforms without specific written permission. Reblogs are a okay :)

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Note

Aaaaah an idea came to mind, (write it if you can please or jst elaborate more). Look, the reader is married to a normal man but her marriage has been going downhill, he is still in his single stage and does not want completely seriousness, while the reader wants to have children. To save their marriage they go to a couples therapy ... Dark!therapist!Bucky, listens for more than 2 hours to each one and realizes that the reader is always what he wanted, so he books an appointment with her again but only to her and tells her something like "Do you want a baby? I'll put one on you"

"do you know why I requested an individual appointment with you, mrs. stark?"

you shook your head.

"well, it's pretty typical with couple's counseling. I want you to feel comfortable telling me anything, even things you might not want to say in front of your husband."

"that makes sense," you decided.

"I wanted to talk more, specifically, about your husband's disinterest in starting a family. is that alright?"

"um, it's sort of hard for me to talk about, but I'll try."

"I appreciate that. not to sound too cliche but, when your husband continues to avoid chances at having children-- something you explained was important to you from the beginning-- how does that make you feel?"

"um... unwanted. less... less feminine? like, less like a woman because--"

"because a woman should be a mother," he finished for you.

you nodded a little, eyes watering.

"I can see how isolating that would feel," he agreed.

"I just feel so stupid," you whispered, trying not to cry, "for ever thinking he would change."

"you wanted to believe he would change his ways for you."

you cried harder, reaching for the tissues by the couch, but dr. barnes got up and grabbed them for you, wearing a soft look on his face. you nodded as a silent thank you and accepted them, wiping your face and hoping your mascara hadn't painted your face black yet.

you were a little surprised when, instead of returning to his chair, dr. barnes sat beside you on the couch and gave you a comforting side-hug

it seemed almost professional enough, even when he rubbed your arm a bit, but you knew it was a bad idea to lean your head into his shoulder. you did it anyway, and it really did soothe you to be in his arms.

tony always ran away when you cried, and it had been so long since someone held you in kindness like this.

he reached up and wrapped his arms around you, stroking your back slowly. "shh, it's alright," he soothed gently.

you mumbled apologies into his shoulder, taking a deep breath in and managing to calm down a bit as you pulled back slightly.

"don't apologise," he replied as he looked down at you, still just a little closer than he should be. "I think it's important that you accept your husband won't give you what you want."

it hurt to hear, but you nodded a little.

"but someone else can."

you were about to ask what he meant when he suddenly pinned you down and kissed you, trapping you on the couch with his strength.

you tried to push him away but he was so much stronger than you, his heavy body on top of yours making it hard to breath. he reached down and spread your legs at the same time he shoved his tongue into your mouth and you couldn't resist either, as much as you wanted to.

he pulled back just enough to stare down at you with a smile, running his hands up your legs until he was reaching under your skirt.

"I'm gonna make you feel like a woman," he promised, "and I'm gonna make you a mother."

"no, wait--"

"isn't that what this is all about?"

"dr. barnes, please, stop."

"are you objecting to my treatment methods, mrs. stark? I'd hate to have you institutionalized..."

you shut up quickly when he threatened that.

"good girl," he cooed, slipping his hand further down until he used two fingers to pull your panties aside, pushing them right into as you whimpered.

"y'gonna behave now and let me put a baby in you like you want so bad?"

you shuddered but nodded slightly, making him grin and twist his fingers inside you.

"I can tell it's true that he hasn't fucked you in months... you're fuckin' tight... god, if I had this pussy waiting for me at home I'd fill it every night-- wouldn't be running around with models like your limpdick husband..."

he kept moving his fingers until he found your sweet spot, given away by how you choked and your legs quivered.

"there it is," he grinned, curling his fingers into it again just to watch you squirm. "fuck, this pretty little cunt's clenching down on me real good, baby, been a while since you felt this good, huh?"

he pulled his fingers out to start hastily opening his belt, pulling out his cock and stroking it a few times.

"gonna feel even better when I'm coming inside you, mrs. stark..."

you gasped and winced as he started to push in, just the head a challenge for you.

"I'm bigger than your husband, aren't I? don't worry, you can take it."

"I- I can?"

"well, you're gonna."

he suddenly slammed all the way in, making you nearly scream as his cock tore into you splitting you open to the deepest parts of you.

"oh, fuck, that's my girl," he groaned, watching your face twist in pain. "that's my good fuckin' girl, look how fuckin' full your pussy is... look how good daddy fills you up, huh?"

you whined as he started to thrust, holding your hips tight so there was nowhere to run as he pounded you mercilessly.

"aw, does it hurt, pretty baby? fuck, don't worry, I'm not gonna take long... you feel too good. next time we have a private session I'll take my time with you, make you come a dozen times if you want, but right now I just need to fill you up."

you wrenched your eyes shut and tried to think about anything else, but it was hard to ignore the sound of his moans filling the room.

"gonna look so pretty with my seed growing in you... with my baby making your belly swell," he sighed. "and these tits," he added as he tore your blouse open to grope them, "they're gonna get so big and full of milk for our little one. will you let me have a taste, sweet girl?"

you whined and ignored the question, gasping when his thick fingers tweaked your nipples right as the head of his cock slammed into your spot.

"yeah, see? knew you'd love it, baby, knew you just needed to be fucked right. daddy's gonna give you all his come so you're nice and full, alright? I'll keep going 'til you're so full your tummy sticks out, right here," he grinned as he rubbed just below your bellybutton. "a little taste of what it'll be like when you start showing."

he moved faster and more erratically, chasing his peak.

"you want it, pretty girl? you want daddy's baby in you?"

he ignored your lack of an answer, groaning loudly as you felt his cock flex and hot ropes of come pump into you. he didn't slow down until every drop was inside, keeping you plugged with his cock as it twitched slightly and he sighed, catching his breath.

"I recommend... weekly individual sessions..." he decided between panting breaths, "until we're sure this issue is resolved."

#dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes hc #dark!bucky barnes noncon #although it's slightly more dubcon but whatever

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missymurphy1985 · 4 years ago

Text

The Lesson

After breaking up with your long-term boyfriend, you finally found the courage to enrol at university, studying Modern Theatre. Your life now taking an unexpected detour to its original plan of marriage, babies, settling down. This is going to be an interesting year.

Tag List (message me to be added): @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

Warnings - smut / teacher.student relationship

Main Characters - Cillian Murphy (he's 35 and single for the purpose of this fic, no children)

"Hey!!! Over here!!" You heard Sarah, your best friend, shouting from the other side of the hall and made your way over.

"Thank god, I was starting to think I'd gone to the wrong place! This place is huge!!" You laughed as you hugged each other. Your bag slung over your shoulder, you linked arms with Sarah with your other arm as you made your way down to the Lecture Theatre.

"So how are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

"Nervous! I never, in a million years, thought I'd be doing this! I feel so old!" You laughed. At 26, you were easily the oldest student here, but Sarah laughed your worries away.

"Trust me, you're not. Once they revealed who the teacher was going to be this semester, a fair few extra people signed up to do that course y/n!" You looked at her confused.

"What, Mr Allen?? He's about 75 isn't he?" Sarah laughed again and left you at the door to your classroom, making her way to her own Design Studio at the bottom of the corridor to teach her own class.

"You'll see when you get inside!" She called behind her, smiling.

You took your seats near the front of the room, looking behind you you could see a gaggle of ladies in the back corner, all of them easily over the age of 40 with no clear interest at all in the subject at hand. They were all giggling like children.. this was going to be fun, you thought, rolling your eyes. Turning back round, you caught a glimpse of a dark haired man making his way through the door at the back of the room. As he made his way to the desk in the centre of the stage area in front of the students, you couldn't help but gasp a little. Jesus he was cute....

The ladies at the back squealed in delight and the man rolled his eyes.

"Right then, let's make a few things clear from the off shall we folks?" He spoke, his Irish accent booming through the auditorium. Everyone fell silent.

"I have a passion for the arts - I've been involved with them since I was 19. I'm here to teach you all I've learned over the last 16years and I plan on teaching it to like minded, dedicated people. People who want to make a career out of the beauty that is theatre. Those of you here simply to catch a glimpse of anything OTHER than a teacher doing his job, the doors at the back of the room." He stood still, leaning against the desk. The gasp at the back of the room was so loud, you couldn't help but giggle a little. Busted ladies. They all whispered to each other, a few of them glaring in the man's direction as they made their way to the back of the room. Slowly but surely, a few others also left sheepishly, men included, and you couldn't help but notice the man smiling a little underneath his floppy brown hair and round glasses. Who was this man??

"Now that's taken care of, I'm hoping I'm left with students that are here to learn the theatre and nothing else..." He paused, looking round the room. His eyes met yours and he paused for a second, raising his eyebrow slightly. You were now the oldest in the room, and you felt even more out of place. You kept a straight face, and maintained the eye contact with him. He wasn't bullying YOU out of here, you didn't care who he THOUGHT he was.

"Right... Well we'd better get going then!" His demeanour changed, he smiled broadly clapping his hands together. "My name's Cillian Murphy - please for the love of God call me Cillian... Mr Murphy is my Dad and I'm not quite ready for that level of old yet." A few chuckles in the room - that tension was gone. "This isn't the first time I've done a class like this, and I've had to evict people part way through for.. ah.. shall we say inappropriate behaviour. Wanted to nip that in the bud from the offset, so I apologise to you all now for the way the class started. Now, do you all have the textbooks the school sent out last month? Let's start on page 35 shall we?" The class, including you, opened the books in unison to find the chapter on Lighting and Sound. Cillian glanced back over at you, a look of uncertainty on his face. You could feel him staring, but refused to look up at him.

"So how are your classes going y/n?" Your mum walked into your apartment to find you studying, book one side, laptop the other and you making notes in the middle of your desk in the corner of the room. You'd given her a key a month prior so she could let your dog, Juno, out during the day while you were at uni.

"It's hard work! I had no idea there was so much to learn about the theatre, they make it look so easy!!"

Your mum laughed and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for you both. Kicking back, you allowed yourself a break after 3 hours studying and met your mum at the small breakfast bar.

"I hear you have a new teacher too? Cillian Murphy?"

"Yeah, he's amazing! He's been there and done it all mum, the stories he tells are fascinating!"

"You know who he is, right?" You did know. You'd googled him when you got home after that first lesson. Pretty big hot shot actor, but you weren't bothered. He seemed pretty down to earth and normal to you.

"Yep I know - you'd never think it though, he's so... Normal I guess?"

"Cute too."

"Mother! Behave!" You both giggled. You couldn't deny he was very attractive though - but you could tell he was a professional. No way had he even looked at you that way - in fact you were convinced he thought you were there purely for him, rather than the course, so you were even more determined to pass this semester with flying colours to prove a point.

The following weeks were filled with more information than you could get your head around. You hated to admit it, but you were struggling to keep up. You hated admitting defeat, but you were really starting to wonder if you could carry on at this pace. Your work was starting to slip, and Cillian had noticed it too, much to your dismay. He'd called a 1-2-1 with you this afternoon, and you were convinced he was going to pull you from the course. You knocked on the door of his office, the defeat written all over your face.

"Come in y/n.."

"Hi.." you tried to smile as you sat across from him. He had your latest piece of coursework in front of him on the desk and he was leaning back in the chair, eyeing you through the rims of his round glasses. Standing up, he made his was over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of Irish Whiskey. You watched him, silently, as he put two glasses on the desk.

"Shouldn't be drinking this during the day, but felt the need. Want one?" You smiled, nodding your head.

"Conversation is clearly not going to be a fun one, no?"

"What makes you say that? I'm just lightening the mood y/n, you walked in here looking like you were going to either cry or knock me out!" He laughed, and offered you the glass. You took it, and sat it in your hands. Your fingers connected and you forced down a gasp at the contact. You'd refused to show him any kind of attraction but it was difficult while he was sat so close to you.

"Listen, I know I'm falling behind Cillian, I'll make it up I promise -"

"Stop. It's okay. Yes, your marks are dropping slightly, but not by much, okay? I'm seeing real potential in you. I invited you here to talk to you about some extra classes to help bump you back to where you need to be. What do you say?" He took a sip of the whiskey and so did you. Relief washing through you as the warm liquid fell down your throat. Hopefully it hid the blush in your cheeks.

"Um.. wow... Okay.. yeah! That'd be great, thank you!" He smiled again. God that smile... Stop it y/n.. he's your teacher, stop.. he sat back down at his desk and handed you a book.

"Great! I've put my phone number on the inside cover. Have a read of this, and call me when you're done. I think you'll like it." You took the book and smiled. A history of Modern Theatre. You agreed, definitely an interesting read.

"Is it classed as 'appropriate' for a teacher to give a student his phone number, Cillian?" You smirked, referring to his opening outburst on that first day. He chuckled.

"Maybe not, but I'm not a teacher, I'm an actor helping out the local university for a semester while the actual teacher takes a leave of absence." You'd heard Mr Allen had fallen ill, Cillian was just a temporary stand in for three months. Nothing permanent. "I have a new job starting in January, I'll be done here by Christmas." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of him not being around anymore. Without admitting it, you'd looked forward to seeing him every day in class. He stood again, and raised his glass in a toast. You raised yours.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You. We're drinking to you y/n. I'm telling you, I'm seeing some real potential with you - you're going far, just need to focus more on the content, that's all." You blushed again.. was that the reason you were distracted? Him? Maybe. "Meet me back here tonight, around 4:30? Should be done with marking by then, we can make a start?" You agreed, a nervous knot forming in your stomach.

**************************************

You'd been having your 1-2-1 meetings with Cillian for more than a month now, and your marks were certainly improving. You had finished the book he gave you, but you hadn't plucked up the courage to text him yet. Watching TV alone in your apartment one evening, you downed your third glass of wine and picked up your phone. He wouldn't have given you the number if he didn't expect you to use it, come on y/n...

"Hey Cillian? Just letting you know I finished the book. Really good read, thank you! I'll have it back with you in the morning. And thank you for spending time with me helping to improve my marks too, it's really helped. Y/n x" pressing send, you cursed yourself, why the hell did you put a X at the end!!! You cursed again when it was delivered... Then again when its status changed to 'read'... Oh crap... A reply.

"Glad you liked it! It's been a pleasure, you're doing a great job! Cx." He put one on his text too... Come on y/n, you're not a teenager anymore, get a grip of yourself!!! Your phone pinged again.

"Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow xx" 2 kisses? Ping.. "Maybe we can finish more than your coursework.x" What did that mean? Was he flirting with you?

"What did you have in mind? X"

"There's still half a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, shame to let it go to waste X"

"I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me Cillian 😉" you typed, feeling a bit braver.

"Challenge accepted y/n. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon X" you knew his stint at the university was coming to a close, was he flirting with you?

****************************************

You knocked Cillian's office door at 4:30 sharp, knowing how much of a stickler he was for punctuality. You felt nervous, after your texts last night you didn't know what to expect - was he flirting or were you just overthinking it? The door opened, and he stood aside to welcome you in, a smile on his face as he greeted you.

"Good to see you y/n, come on in!" He walked to the cabinet in the corner. "I never turn down a challenge, you in?" You smiled, nodding, as he poured two glasses.

"Good job I left the car at home this morning," you chuckled as he brought his glass to meet yours. Both of you sinking it down in one, you grimaced as the liquid slipped down your throat and he took the glass from you to pour another.

"We'll take this one a bit slower y/n, what do you say?" His eyes darkened slightly, the alcohol clearly having an effect. You couldn't help the warm feeling running through your groin as he licked his lips to clear them of the whiskey remnants that sat on them.

"Whatever you say sir.." he glanced up at you as you said 'sir', and leaned against the desk.

"Sir? Since when did you call me sir?" He tilted his head back slightly, glass swirling in his hand. You sipped your drink and stood to face him, confidence growing. You could see his attraction towards you, and you decided to go with it.

"Since you decided to try and seduce your student... Sir." He swallowed hard, the game clearly up, watching you take a step towards him. Your bodies inches apart, he brought his hand up to rest on your hip, pulling you that little bit closer.

"Probably shouldn't have put kisses on a text to your teacher, then, should you.."

"Probably shouldn't have given me your phone number then, should you.." the air was hot now, your bodies touching gently, your breathing becoming deeper. You brought your hands to his chest, over his shoulders, and he quickly spun you round so you were now sat on his desk. His lips found yours and he ground his hips against your core, your legs parted allowing him access, skirt hitched up to your waist.

"I've wanted you since that first day... Fuck y/n you're beautiful... Sexy... Smart..." He kissed your neck between each word, breathing becoming hot and heavy. Suddenly stopping, he kissed your lips before making his way to the door, turning the key in the lock, before coming back to finish what you started. Unbuttoning your blouse and opening it, his hand snaked around your breasts, underneath the black lace bra. Groaning slightly, he moved his hands lower, down your abdomen.

"Leave as much on as possible... I'm taking you on this desk, right now.. you okay with that?"

"Like I said sir, I don't know if you'll be able to keep up with me.." your leg pushed him away slightly as you stood up, pushing him against the wall. You sank to your knees, taking his trousers and boxer shorts down with them, his cock springing up, twitching, begging for attention. Gasping, he watched you lick a circle around the swollen head, down the shaft, before taking one of his balls into your mouth and sucking lightly. His hand in your hair now, pulling it gently as he groaned. You continued teasing him with your tongue, before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, giving it a hard suck, releasing it with a pop, sending his head back against the wall.

"Fuck... Take it y/n.. take it down..." You smiled, before sinking your mouth over his cock, all the way down the back of your throat, groaning into it sending shockwaves through him.

"Lets see how much you can take..." You sucked harder, not giving him time to react. Moving your head quickly up and down his shaft, you felt your core begin to leak, you'd never felt as turned on in your life as you did right now. You felt his legs start to shake...

"Yes.. fuck yes... Feels so good baby... Suck it... Harder.. god fuck yes..." His balls tightened, you could feel him trying to pull back but you held him firm with your hands on his hips, willing him to empty into you. "I'm gonna... You might... Jesus.... Fuck...." He came hard, gripping your hair for support as he came hard, you felt his cum shoot in the back of your throat and swallowed as much as you could, some of it spilling down your chin. You pulled your mouth away, holding your mouth slightly open so he could see his cum on your tongue before swallowing it back down.

"That was... My god... Fuck y/n..."

"Oh you will sir, you definitely will. I'm not done with you yet.." you stood up and sat back on the desk, legs parted again to reveal your core to him, completely bare. He didn't see you remove your underwear while you were sucking him, but he wasn't complaining. Gathering himself, he moved to stand between your legs and pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately, tasting a little of himself in the process and feeling surprisingly aroused from it. He moved his mouth down to your core, running his tongue along your open slot painfully slowly.

"Cillian... Please... Need to cum...."

"You will, baby, oh you will..." You moved your hands to his soft, floppy hair and pulled his face where you needed it. He loved you taking control and took your clit with his tongue, pressing it, rolling it around his tongue as he felt you begin to shake. You lifted a leg onto the desk to give him better access, and he inserted two fingers inside you, tipping them up to meet your g spot deep inside, emitting a sharp cry from you as you three your head back.

"Yes!!! Oh god yes... Right there... Fuck!!" Your hips were involuntarily rolling against his face now, riding his tongue as he brought you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Within minutes, your orgasm was building, and sensing it, he pumped his fingers harder against that one spot that was making you see stars. Three pumps and you came hard against his face, liquid flowing from you like a waterfall, hitting the floor underneath you as you screamed Cillians name. He leaned back on his ankles, watching you coming undone, smiling. Once you'd caught your breath, your eyes fell onto his his.

"Feeling proud of yourself there Mr Murphy?" You smiled. He stood between your thighs again.

"Extremely. But I'm not done with you yet. Turn around y/n." His blue eyes darker now. Your core throbbed, knowing what was coming. Standing up, turning round, you bent over his desk, his hands parting your legs. Taking a condom from his bag behind him, you heard the packet rip open and you rotated your hips, teasing him. He groaned deeply as he started to push his length into you, inch by inch.

"Ohh... Oh god..." You weren't ready for his size, you legs parting as much as possible. Inch by inch he pushed, allowing you to adjust, before bottoming out, his balls resting near your still throbbing clit.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard against this desk, y/n... You're gonna take every thrust like the good girl you are..." You bucked your hips up and he responded by pulling his cock nearly out, and thrusting back in powerfully enough to make you scream his name. Picking up the pace, he leaned over to grab your hair in his hand, giving it a sharp tug as he thrust into you from behind over and over, relentlessly.

"Harder... Cillian harder!!! Fucking... Oh god yes!!!" Loving the sound of your cries and the feel of your pussy contracting around his cock, he knew you were close to another orgasm.

"Rub yourself... Rub your clit baby, make yourself cum for me..." You reached a hand round to your core and found that bundle of nerves. Circling it hard, your orgasm built up again and you swore you saw stars.

"Good girl.... That's it baby... Let it go, I've got you... Let it go...." That was all you needed to hear. You came hard, and he couldn't hold back once he felt your walls contracting round him. "I'm... Oh y/n yes... Yes!" He stilled, you felt his cock pulsate, filling the condom. Both of you breathless, he fell forwards resting against your back.

He pulled out gently, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the bin, he chuckled slightly.

"Remind me to empty the bin before we leave... I don't think the cleaner will expect to see that in there in the morning!" You laughed too, standing up to face him.

"That was incredible... Just amazing..." You rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your hair gently.

"I enjoyed that too y/n.. and I'd really like to see you again, if you'll let me?"

"I'd like that..." You smiled. You'd convinced yourself if anything happened it would probably be a one time thing, I mean he was a famous actor, what would he want with you? You had no illusions going into this.

"My teaching finishes here in 2 weeks - what do you say I take you out for dinner when it's done?"

"Sounds like a plan Cillian. But am I supposed to stay away until then?"

"Definitely not, y/n, we've still got a few 1-2-1 sessions to squeeze in before I leave..." He leaned down to kiss you, pushing you back against the desk again. His erection pressing against your core again. "It would appear I'm able to keep up after all y/n..."

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