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her-satanic-wiles · 3 months ago

Text

Dawn Chorus - VIII

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 8.2k.

Reading Time: 33 min.

Warnings: Catholic guilt, cum swap, cunnilingus, divine voyeurism?, fellatio, finger sucking, free use fantasy, frottage, masturbation, pillow humping, praise kink, references to non-con, references to rape kink, references to somnophilia, self slut shaming, semi-public masturbation, this may be the horniest thing I’ve ever written

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock @amaridelphi @katiegvf

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

You spent more time in your cage since the wine cellar, actively not wanting to leave. For the first time since he put you in there, you felt safer behind bars than you felt outside of them. The Cardinal - or Copia (you weren’t sure what you should call him after… that) - went straight to his bed and fell asleep, not bothering to lock you in. As far as he was concerned, you weren’t a danger, nor had you misbehaved. You put yourself in there of your own volition, and you could remove yourself as you pleased.

Waking up the next evening, he was still conservative and modest about exposing himself to you as he got dressed for the night ahead, as though the night before had never happened, changing in the bathroom and leaving you to your thoughts in his room. He came back in, adorned in a different cassock from last night (a black one), and picked up his biretta from the dresser.

He cleared his throat, “Last night,” he began, not looking at you at all, “you regret it, right?” He didn’t wait for your answer. “Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”

You nodded, which he could see out the corner of his eye. He nodded too, put his biretta on, then turned to leave before hesitating at the door. “I won’t lock you in today, Angel,” he continued, “Your halo is still locked away, and you’ll have a ghoul to guard you, so go wherever you like.”

“Th-thank you.” You said, your voice gravelly from your sleep.

The Cardinal nodded and then left, making sure the front door clicked behind him. You heard him addressing one of the ghouls that stood guard at his front door and then the corridor fell silent, indicating that he’d gone for good. You were now free to wander around.

You wanted to leave - to take those books back to the library and pick new ones. But you couldn’t bring yourself to face anyone. You were sure they’d be able to see your transgressions on your face, that they’d know simply by looking at you that the Cardinal had sullied you and your good name and pure body the night before, while you both were drunk no less. Numerous sins were committed last night, and you weren’t sure you’d ever get the forgiveness you once craved, especially now.

You wandered into the Cardinal’s bathroom and turned the taps, remembering how to work the tub since the Cardinal taught you the first time. You hadn’t used this tub often, on account of your wings getting in the way, but your time in there had been most relaxing the last time, you felt like you needed to use it again.

Upon removing your robes, you let them drop to the floor where you stood, the fabric easily sliding off your body and pooling at your feet. Bubbles grew and popped in the water as it gathered in the centre, and filled up to perfection, making the room smell like eucalyptus and mint, immediately calming your mind and shushing all the doubts and worries that had plagued you for God knew how long.

You sunk into the warm water and your body relaxed instantly. You could practically feel the sin washing off of you from last night’s escapades, bubbles gathering around your skin and hiding your body as though they were protecting you from further violation, welcome or otherwise. You were able to quash most of your thoughts, bury them in a box and file them away in your mind, never to be looked at again. You sighed and relaxed further back, allowing your head to lull against the porcelain. If you weren’t already awake, you’d have no problem falling asleep in here.

“Given a body and not shown how to use it.”

Your eyes snapped open as you heard the Cardinal’s voice, clear as though he were standing right beside you despite you being alone in the room. The sound of his voice made your heart race, a sharp reminder of what had happened between you only the night before. You felt guilt enveloping you, threatening to drown you in its oppressive grip. The shame soaked into every part of your being and clung to you like a second skin. You were powerless to overcome it.

“You never touched yourself, have you?”

The quiet of the moment was broken by the eerie repetition of his words, which lingered in your thoughts. You couldn’t help but feel as if you had betrayed the very essence of your celestial nature, as if you had failed in some fundamental way.

“Virgins are so easy to please. So quick to cum.”

You dipped further into the water, as though trying to drown out the voice in your head that was claiming you. However, the marks left by your brief mistake and the stains of your indiscretion would not go away with any amount of water.

Your acts threatened to smother you under their crushing weight, bearing down on you like a heavy burden. You had deviated from the straight and narrow, giving in to want and temptation in a moment of weakness. And now you were left to consider the implications of your choices as you sat in the peaceful solitude of the bathtub.

Though guilt and regret weighed heavily on your mind, there was a part of you that couldn’t shake the pure pleasure that had flowed through your veins during your meetings with the Cardinal. There was an irresistible thrill in the restricted, a forbidden pleasure that sent shivers down your spine and ignited your body with desire, even with all the weight of your transgressions.

You had given in to the seductive pull of passion with every touch and caress, losing yourself in the intense ecstasy of the moment. You felt the Cardinal’s hands on your flesh, his lips on your body, kindling a fierce fire inside of you that would eventually consume you.

The sensation of his touch remained on your skin as you lay in the bath, a lingering reminder of the pleasure you had experienced together. You knew it was a sinful pleasure and you shouldn’t have indulged in it, but you couldn’t help but feel so satisfied after those delicious moments.

“The beauty of this form is that you can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.”

You bit your lip as you remembered how he felt, thick and heavy against your centre, rutting against you violently as he took his pleasures from your body. As you lost yourself in the memory, you noticed you were reacting in a similar way to last night; your heart rate rising, pulse quickening, the blood pumping through your veins much faster than before, your nipples now standing erect and sensitive as your breasts heaved with the rise and fall of your exerted breathing, the warm water running over the peaks and somehow stimulating them.

That was all bad enough, but your clit had begun tingling, too, exactly how it had when the Cardinal was teaching you about your body. His phantom thumb rolled over the nerves and had your hips bucking upwards, legs involuntarily spreading and waiting for someone to come and relieve your suffering.

“You can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.”

You can.

You shouldn’t.

Your mind telling you “no” didn’t stop your hand from trailing down your body, running over one of your nipples and making you hiss out in pleasure. Your mind telling you “no” couldn’t possibly stop your fingers from curling around your mound, allowing your middle finger to land where you needed it most. Just the mere connection of the pad of your finger sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, making you gasp at the contact.

You remembered how the Cardinal moved his thumb to get you to cry out, and so, you copied his actions, swirling your middle finger in tight circles to replicate the feeling. And, oh. It felt exquisite. Not quite as divine as the Cardinal’s gloves melting into your flesh as they had done, but even still, it was good enough to steal noises from your throat; making your eyes shut to allow you to just feel. Little, breathy “ah”’s falling from your lips as the water sloshed around your thrusting hips, squirming beneath your own touch as you had his.

You applied more pressure and began moving your finger a little faster, crying out at the feeling. Your mind showed you the Cardinal’s face, reddened beneath his white skin as he rut against you, sweat pooling on his brow and that animalistic look in his eyes that made you feel so small and helpless beneath him, despite your impressive strength. With the fluttering of your hole around nothing, you were reminded of the way that the tip of his being kept catching on it, and how you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach flipped. He told you he wanted to bury himself deep inside you, feel you from a different point. You saw the disappointment in his eyes that reflected the emotion in your heart as he promised not to break that boundary you’d set in the moment.

But you wanted him to. God, you wanted him to take you there and then, spear you on himself and force you to sin with him…

Your eyes snapped open and you pulled your hand away. He could be watching right now - the Almighty, whom you’d so quickly and happily forsaken twice now in less than twelve hours. The water poured off your body as you stood, and climbed out of the porcelain tub, catching a glimpse of your flushed and lust-filled skin as you exited and entered dry land. You wrapped a towel around yourself, not bothering to pick up your robe as you trudged through the apartments and into the Cardinal’s bedroom.

“You think your god is watching one of his angels get - fuck! - ruined by a son of Satan?”

You shook your head, and slammed the heels of your palms against your temple, trying to rid yourself of his words - despite the excitement bubbling in your stomach at the notion.

What good could your God do now? You may have forsaken Him, but didn’t He do that to you first? So what if He watched? So what if He knew that you’d sinned? That you touched yourself just once to a memory of your own transgressions? Just one more time… one more orgasm wouldn’t hurt as you were already in so much trouble. You could go to confession after, tell a priest your sins and be reassured that He would forgive you now that you owned up to your mistake.

Just once more.

You walked over to the Cardinal’s bed and ran your hand over the soft, smooth velvet, the red darkening under your touch as you stroked it gently. A wave of contradictory feelings passed through you as your fingers traced over the Cardinal’s rich bedspread. Shame mixed with longing, guilt with desire, and the sensations swirled around you, threatening to overwhelm you.

The Cardinal’s words lingered in your thoughts, a sneaky voice that aroused deep-seated fears and desires that you were unable to ignore. You were drawn irreversibly towards the forbidden temptation of indulging in pleasure and giving in to the sinful desires that had been reawakened within you.

You allowed the towel to fall from your body, and climbed upon the bed, letting the velvet to engulf your naked flesh as you stretched out atop it. You’d spent many hours in this bed, sleeping, modest, covered. You’d never had the opportunity to truly feel it beneath your skin and how luxurious it felt. Sinning in style.

You reached for the Cardinal’s pillow with trembling hands, grazing the plush material with your fingers as you imagined him by your side. The recollection of his touch and his passionately whispered words caused you to feel a deep ache, and stoked a fire that burned with extreme intensity.

You brought that pillow to your face, smelling the scent of his cologne and skin imprinted on the fabric, remembering that scent mixed with his sweat. You were practically intoxicated again, overcome with hunger and desperation.

But a voice of reason whispered cautions in the back of your mind, even as you yearned to lose yourself in the heat of passion once more. You were aware of the repercussions of giving in to temptation, of the cost of breaking your word and giving in to the thoughts of forbidden desires.

You lay on your back, spreading and flattening your white wings out comfortably, not taking into account the stark contrast of the blood red beneath you, and the purity of your body. You kept clutch on that pillow as you let your hand travel down your navel and pick up where you left off, this time the sensitivity from your first escapade heightening your experience, and making you call out louder than before.

You rocked against your hand, giving yourself over to the pleasure coursing through your body, toes curling into the mattress as you worked yourself to completion. It felt so good. Clearing your mind of all wrongdoing to focus on the sensation, your hand working faster and faster.

Hitting that spot.

Right there!

Yes!

“Fuck!”

Your own voice echoed the Cardinal’s from last night, the profanities that tumbled from his mouth in the throes of passion infected you, and somehow made your touch feel just a little better. Just a few more circles into your flesh and you came undone, your back arching off the bed and your whole body shutting down as your orgasm washed over you, nothing moving except your finger as it worked over your clit continuously to draw out that feeling for as long as possible.

Your breathing was laboured when your orgasm finally subsided, and you crumpled onto the bed in a blissful heap. Disbelief clouded your mind for a second, unable to fathom how you’d lived for so long and not experienced such a feeling - and how it took a son of Satan to show you the light. But that was that. You’d never do it again. You made a promise to yourself there and then as you righted the Cardinal’s bed, cleaned the towel away, and dressed yourself in your robes again. Except, this time, your nipples were still sensitive and rubbed against the fabric, keeping your pleasure at the forefront of your mind.

The Cardinal and you set into a dance for the following week, as you both were avoiding each other as much as possible. He wouldn’t look at you, just dress and leave, and you’d be left to your own devices. You didn’t have the strength to leave the apartment, nor did you want to. Despite your promise to yourself, the second the Cardinal had closed the door, you removed your robes, climbed onto his bed and touched yourself, damn near addicted to the feeling.

You grappled with the act again, trying to convince yourself that you shouldn’t dig yourself into a deeper hole, that no matter how much confessing you did, one day you’d cross the line and be entirely unforgivable. Yet, it didn’t stop your body yearning to be touched, to be savoured, to give you the most pleasure while it could, because it couldn’t stop wanting. And so, despite the internal conflict and war zone that was occurring in your mind, you climbed onto his bed and gave yourself over, yet again, to pleasure.

Your hands were getting used to your touches by the middle of the week, allowing you to just go by muscle memory as you played with yourself. Sometimes, your mind would show you images of the Cardinal in the wine cellar, replay the whole scene frame by frame until you came at the thoughts. But sometimes, sometimes your brain would insert new scenes, new wants and wishes for you to think about every time you saw the Cardinal’s face. How you’d remember the victorious few in Canaan celebrate their wins and insert both yourself and the Cardinal into their places.

You imagined the Cardinal pressing you against a wall, burying himself inside you as he took you from behind, his hands pinching your nipples just as he told you to do in the wine cellar.

You imagined him slipping inside you in the wine cellar, giving into his own desires and not caring a peep about your own - using your body as the Lord did, except your pleasure came as a side effect.

You’d bury your face into his sheets and inhale his scent, clutching onto his pillow as you did the first time when you took yourself to his bed. But that action would end up opening a whole new door for you. The way that your body had sat meant the pillow grazed against your nipple every single time you squirmed, and even though it felt great, you got a better idea.

You pushed that pillow down your body with both hands, and wrapped your thighs around it keeping the edge of the pillow pressed against your folds. At first, you moved the pillow against your body, but your arms grew tired too quickly, and your hips ended up taking over, grinding them against the plushness.

You switched positions, for the first time getting off your back and onto your knees, stroking yourself with the pillow beneath you - and it felt better than before. Would the Cardinal allow you to do this to him? Would he lie beneath you as you took what you wanted from him, like the whores of Babylon did for their clients?

You bit your lip at the thought - the Cardinal treating you like his own, personal whore. How he’d take you over and over again, and make you serve him like you served your God. Why did you want this? Why did you want to get on your knees for this man? And why was his title falling from your lips as you fucked yourself against the very pillow he slept on?

You brought yourself over the edge twice in that way, the first time not keeping you satiated long enough to last the rest of the day.

Each day that passed made you more desperate than the first, guilt gnawing away at you as you’d violate yourself over and over again, but being unable to stop it from happening. Even the Cardinal breathing as he slept had you needing to rush into the living room, hike your robes up to your thighs, straddle the arm of the couch and work yourself to completion, hand over your mouth to muffle your needy sounds.

You realised in that moment that you didn’t truly face restrictions anymore, and it both thrilled and frightened you.

Guilt gnawed away at Copia, too, except for him it wasn’t because of divine intervention or other such ridiculousness. For him it was mixed in with sadness that you, the very object of his desires, just didn’t want him in the same way. You’d consented in the wine cellar, and Hell, you really enjoyed yourself, that much he knew to be true. But Copia felt the oppressive weight of sadness bearing down on his shoulders, suffocating him with its firm hold. The disappointment that was eating away at him, the bitter taste of rejection that lingered on his tongue like a poisonous pill, was something he was unable to get rid of.

Despite the intoxicating passion you two had shared in the wine cellar, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of unease that persisted in the back of his mind. He was aware that you had given your consent to that passionate encounter, but something in your eyes afterwards, a glimmer of doubt or hesitation, left him feeling empty and hollow inside.

For the briefest moment, he allowed himself to think that you wanted him as much as he did. But now that evening had broken through the illusion, all that remained was the harsh, cold reality of his unfulfilled desire.

Memories of that fateful night in the wine cellar replayed themselves in Copia’s head like a scratched record, every detail seared into his memory with agonising clarity. No matter how hard he tried, the vivid images that danced behind his closed eyelids and haunted him like ghosts from the past wouldn’t go away.

His ears echoed of your wanton moans, how they oozed with pleasure you’d never felt before that sent a wave of goosebumps up and down his body, hardening his cock at the thought.

With the room filled with the gentle glow of candles and the flickering flames creating long shadows on the walls, he was sitting by himself at his desk. His work was left undisturbed as he was preoccupied with thoughts of your euphoric presence, your gentle touch, and your passionately whispered words.

He couldn’t forget the way your body jiggled, the way you were so innocent and supple. The frantic beating of your heart as you practically hung off his dick. Lucifer - he needed it. He needed you.

Copia sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his messy hair, longing and frustration fighting inside of him like rivals. His thoughts were constantly focused on you, your image ingrained in his memory like a brand, making it difficult for him to concentrate or focus on the task at present.

Fucking his hand at his desk wasn’t his finest moment, but it was a necessary evil in the grand scheme of things. He remembered how good your mouth felt around his thumb, and ended up cumming all over his papers at the thought of you swallowing every drop he gave you - whether it poured down your throat or into your womb, it made no difference to him.

On top of his already troubled mind, Copia felt the weight of Sister Imperator’s scrutiny bearing down on him. Her persistent threats to interfere with your interrogating and even take over the Satanic Church did nothing but increase his nervousness and erode his faith in his own abilities.

Sister Imperator was not someone to be taken lightly, and her disappointment with his performance only made him feel more insecure. He tried so hard to keep up a front of competence and poise, but he couldn’t get rid of the sense that he wasn’t doing enough to fulfill his responsibilities as your carer and as the leader of the Church.

Every threat he received from Sister Imperator was like a knife to his pride, a constant reminder of his flaws and shortcomings. He was aware that he had to perform better in order to take back control of the situation and establish that he was suitable for his position in the Church hierarchy. However, despite his best efforts, he was unable to shake off the doubt that hung over him like a ten-tonne weight.

Copia could not deny the noticeable change in your demeanour since that evening. He was deeply struck by the subtle avoidance in your movements and the way your cheeks flushed whenever your eyes met his. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret deep in his chest, knowing he had embarrassed and made you uncomfortable.

He couldn’t help but notice your attempts to stay away from him and felt a little sorry for you. He had thought that the closeness you two had would strengthen your bond, but it appeared to have pushed a wedge between you. He wanted to be there for you, to help you overcome the growing gap between you, but he was afraid to invade your personal space because he knew you needed time to process what had happened between you.

He did, however, get a sneaking suspicion that you were no longer as innocent as you made out to be. He tucked himself into bed one morning and lay his head on the pillow, eager for a day of sleep when he smelled something different about his room.

The smell on his pillow was familiar, and it made his heart skip a beat. He stopped, trying to figure out the source of the scent that was now filling the room with his enhanced senses. The scent was subtle and seductive, stirring something deep inside of him.

He took a deep breath and the aroma surrounded him, enveloping him in a blanket of desire and warmth. And suddenly, he realised what was going on. It was your smell, distinctive and unmistakable, but with a distinct twist as it seeped into the pillow’s material. That same smell had lingered on his hand after the wine cellar, your cunt tormenting him from the leather of his glove for days after. He couldn’t bring himself to wash it away, instead choosing to let it linger until it naturally faded.

You’d been touching yourself, he was sure of it.

Copia felt a shiver run down his spine as a flicker of longing ignited within him at the realisation. He recalled the warmth of your body against his, the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips, and the softness of it against his lips. Strong and all-consuming, the memory flooded his mind, making him feel both regret and desire at the same time.

The memory urged his hand down his pyjama pants with his stained pillow pressed to his nose, inhaling you and making himself cum quietly so as not to wake you.

Yet moments before his orgasm hit, he heard you leave the room, and didn’t return. When he woke up that evening, he found you passed out on the sofa, cheeks flushed and thighs exposed beneath your skirts that had lifted in your sleep. He bent down and could smell you on the arm of the sofa, and instantly he felt his cock stiffen once again. You were so tempting, just lying there after humping the furniture like a dog in heat, sweet on the eye yet sinful in the mind. He could have just slid into you there and then and had his way with you, but instead he took to fucking his hand in the shower once again.

His suspicions were finally confirmed the very next night, returning home a little earlier than normal to find you in a precarious position.

Your back was to the door, and you couldn’t hear him enter over the sound of your own moans as you rubbed yourself on the arm of his desk chair, entirely without clothes. Your wings hung loosely behind you, shifting as your hips moved back and forth on the upholstered section of the arm, little thrusts that had you gasping and whining, sounding delightful each time.

And you had no idea he was there, just losing yourself in the pleasure, clit dragging along the fabric and, as he got closer, both hands on both nipples, pinching and pulling to add to the sensation. Your movements were so fluid, it was painfully obvious how experienced you were now - no longer the pure angel he’d defiled in the cellar. A small part of him was angry that he hadn’t been involved in this whole process, that he hadn’t got to witness your journey with self-pleasure and diving deeper and deeper into corruption of your own free will. The other part of him recognised that you were feral because of him and his cock, and how desperate you were to recreate that.

Fuck - your scent filled the entire room to the point where it smelled like sex and had his cock chubbing up beneath his cassock. If you let him, he’d bend you over his desk and fuck you until you passed out - probably wouldn’t even stop then.

He waited; bade his time until he could watch you cum again, the muscles in your back spasming as you finally tipped over the edge. The way your body froze and your breath hitched was delightful, and had sent shivers down his spine and blood rushing to his core making him fully hard and gagging for you. He could fantasise about the dark as much as he wanted, but there was nothing that made him more unhinged than watching his partner cum. Nothing made him more possessed than the way the body looked as it orgasmed, how it sounded and tasted.

Your blood was so much sweeter now, he could smell it pumping through your veins much faster than usual. Obviously, he knew that blood was sweeter after an orgasm, but even so, yours was a calling. He was a bee to honey. He wanted a taste of you so badly.

In the throes of your passion, you couldn’t hear him approach. You could hear the beating of your own heart and the sound of your breaths rising and falling with the exertion.

“Having fun without me, I see,” he whispered into your ear.

You jumped out of your skin, screaming when you saw him in your peripheral vision, falling onto the seat of the chair with your right leg still hanging over the arm, your left keeping you upright with your foot planted on the floor. He had a smug grin on his face, his mouth lifting up on its right corner and that same dark look in his eyes that he had before. His left hand was on the back of the antique chair as he leaned on it, staring down at you with those eyes that told you he was hungry. Your right hand was also on the back of the chair to hold you upright, while the other rested on the desk as you were pushed to sit in between the wooden arms sideways, looking up at him with wide, doe eyes that made him groan. One of your wings had fallen, and was resting largely on the floor. The other had been pinned against you and the upholstery.

It didn’t escape you how close his fingers were to yours, nor that you were still completely naked and bearing the weight of his gaze. The way your body had fallen and steadied itself had left your core wide open, spread out and glistening in the warm light of the room and so cold from the air teasing it as your sensitivity began to set in.

He put his right hand on top of yours on the desk and leaned over your body, effectively trapping you where you fell and hovering above you. His weight wasn’t entirely put onto your hand, meaning you could move it if you wanted to. But the shock had rendered you immobile - well, the shock and the look in his eyes.

“If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask,” he said, voice low and gruff like it was down in the wine cellar.

He was hardly touching you, barely near you, yet you felt as though he was suffocating you completely. You were hot, the strength of his gaze warming a flush on your cheeks and ensnaring you in his trap while you remained breathless and helpless. And needy.

He was offering himself to you on a golden platter, praying that you’d say yes. Waiting for that word to fall from your mouth.

He taunted you further, “Did you think I didn’t know? Did you think I couldn’t smell you everywhere? Was there a piece of furniture that you didn’t drag this needy little cunt all over, hm? Even my pillow couldn’t escape your horny little rampage.”

Your eyes kept moving from his eyes to his lips, watching his mouth form words underneath his moustache, and thinking about how it would feel elsewhere.

“Will you ask for it, angel?” he asked, his tone more decisive. “Or will you tell me to walk away?”

He watched your eyes as they moved around his face, and could practically hear the cogs turning in your mind. You were seriously considering it. It amused him.

Without warning, you launched yourself upwards, pulling your hand out from underneath his and wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you steady. Your lips crashed onto his, a desperate, inexperienced kiss that was all teeth and tongue, but totally conveyed your ferality and your need to be ravaged. All shame flew out the window when you pressed your naked body against his cassock, feeling his hardness pressed against you but dampened by the fabric.

He grunted at the action, but immediately flew into his response. His hands came to your waist and clutched onto you, holding you steady and relieving the pressure from his neck as he held you upright. You whimpered between the smack of your lips together as his tongue entered your mouth, less bloody than before but still so breathtaking. You wanted him to take everything from you now, Almighty be damned. So far from the angel you were since you came here, now you were eagerly spreading your legs for a vampyre no less. Who had you become? And why were you fine with it?

The Cardinal pulled and pushed at your body, manoeuvring you to sit upon his desk with your legs spread and waiting for him. All the while, his mouth never left yours until he had got you where he wanted you. Those lips of his then began their journey down your body, stopping at your neck where he paid particularly close attention to the pulse point, then travelled down over your breasts, to lick and suck at your nipple. He then copied the movement to the second one, just to hear you cry out for him again. Then to your stomach, and finally landing on your mound, pulling the chair up and taking a seat.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You asked, breathlessly.

“You liked my fingers last time - you’ll like my mouth today.” He responded, simply.

“No but… you can’t.”

He looked up at you. “Oh, sweet, innocent angel. I promise you I can. And I will.”

“But-”

“Relax.”

He let out a growl upon seeing you; your glistening, tight heat exposed to him, ready and waiting for his tongue to ravish you like the heathen he was. He teased you by planting a kiss… or several… on your thighs, making you want in a way you never imagined possible.

His finger moved up and down your folds, once or twice catching on your clit, making you a shiver and a gasp from excitement and sensitivity. His eyes fluttered shut with delight as those fingers that had collected your slick slipped into his mouth. The exact same flavour from all those nights ago when he licked his gloves clean of you. The very same taste that tormented him upon smelling you fucking yourself on his furniture.

He kissed you exactly where you wanted him. His tongue came out, laving over your clit exactly as his fingers had, swirling and dancing over your flesh and making you cry out for him. Your back arched off the desk entirely as your body moved instinctively, hands flying to his hair and digits locking around his mouse-brown strands. The Cardinal rushed in, his tongue swirling roughly around your sensitive clit and intermittently sucking at it to elicit those heavenly noises from your lips. Hips rocking back and forth as they had done every night and day this passed week or so, chasing your pleasure and riding his tongue, like you were used to doing with everything else.

The first time he locked his lips around your clit and sucked, you screamed. Not just an outcry or a moan, a genuine scream of surprise that made the Cardinal chuckle between your legs. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you jumped, only to feel his hands push you back into the original position you were in.

His lips moved, consistently hitting the right spots and making you clench around nothing while his moustache scratched against your labia. All the while, gasps and groans were falling from your mouth, but he wanted more. He pulled away and replaced his lips with his fingers, buttery soft gloves touching you once more.

“You have to tell me,” he began, licking his lips clean of you, “you have to tell me how it feels.”

“Mmm!”

“No, angel, use those words you learned so prettily. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes!”

“Do I make you feel good?”

“Yessssss - oh!”

“Did you like my mouth?”

“S-so mu-uh! Much!”

He laughed. You really had no idea what he wanted you to do. His laugh wasn’t malicious - he certainly wasn’t making fun of your naivete. You were just so sweet - so innocent, even after everything you’d done this week.

“Which did you like more, angel? My fingers or my mouth?”

“Oh! Mouth! I l-like your mouth!”

“You want me to use it again?”

“Yes!”

“Beg me to. Tell me how much you want my mouth.”

His movements on your clit got faster and added more pressure, scrambling your brain. You were trying to find sentences to formulate, but nothing was coming out. “I…” you began, feeling overwhelmed. “I-” You tried to think of something, anything, but your mind was too focussed on the pleasure it wouldn’t work. You took a breath, and whined, “Please.”

Copia would have just laughed. If you weren’t you, he would have degraded you, told you to try harder, that you obviously didn’t want it hard enough. But your please was so desperate, so innocent like you might cry, for once it was the only thing he needed. He’d teach you how to use your words properly before the next time - for now, he’d oblige, because there wasn’t a way that he couldn’t.

He dove straight back into your core face-first, vigorously sucking and licking at your wetness and putting his index finger inside of you, making you cry out once more. He curled that finger upwards, and kept repeating that motion over and over again until your body felt like jelly.

Now, you were moaning, but in between your whines, whimpers and screams, was the occasional peppered “Good”, “So good” and “Yes!” until eventually a combination of his lips and his fingers had you tipping over the edge, and cumming around him, leaking out more and more until you were entirely spent, hole clenching around him as you peaked.

With one final kiss to your clit, he pulled back, looking up at your reddened and exhausted face with pride. He stood up and nestled himself in between your open legs, running his lips and tongue over your bare skin, up your neck before capturing you in a kiss. You could taste yourself on his mouth, and feel his hardness pressed up against your centre.

You broke away. “Are you…” You began. “I mean, do you - will you…?”

The Cardinal laughed at you, your awkwardness over the subject, your innocence even now not allowing you to finish any of your sentences. “Fuck you?” He asked harshly, just to see your reaction.

You nodded.

“Do you want me to?” He asked.

“Yes, but -”

“Then, no. I won’t.”

“What?”

“If you have to say but then you don’t want to. But what I just did for you,” he brought his index finger and thumb to your lips and pinched the bottom one in between them, “would you like to do for me?”

“I can do that?”

He smiled, eyes trained on your lips. “Of course. If I taught you, would you? Would you use your mouth for me?”

You hesitated for a moment, not because you weren’t intrigued or because you didn’t want to. Mostly it was because you didn’t know how, or what such an act even looked like. But still, you nodded and said, “Yes.”

He turned the chair to face adjacent to the desk and took several steps back, bringing his gloved hands to his cassock and removing the garment completely. He ordered, draping his robes over the back of the loveseat. His gloves were the next to go, being draped on top of his cassock. He was left in his undergarments: sweatpants and a t-shirt. The sweatpants left nothing to the imagination, showing the outline of his hardened length beneath the lightweight fabric. He settled onto the desk chair and looked into your eyes. “On your knees, angel.”

You did as he asked, remembering this position from what felt like months ago now. How he was drunk in his room, holding your halo in his hand and putting his thumb in your mouth, relishing in the feel of it. You saw the same look in his eyes, only this time it had heat pooling again in your… what did he call it? Cunt? There.

He reached down and picked up your hand. “If it’s too much at any point,” he began, moving that hand to his thigh, “tap on me two times. Show me you can do it.”

You did, tapping on his clothed thigh as he requested despite you not understanding why it was requested of you. He didn’t need to do that.

“Good girl.” He dipped into the waistband of his sweatpants and fished his cock out, and looked at your eyes widen. The Cardinal was big. You knew he was because you’d felt him on you before, but it was a whole different experience seeing him. He didn’t let you the first night you spent together. Not only was the Cardinal long, he was quite girthy, and you wondered how that would feel going in your mouth. You couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“Now,” he continued, “open that mouth for me.”

You did as you were asked, and watched him sit forward. The thumb that he had in your mouth before came back up to your lips and ran over them softly, before he placed it inside.

“Close your mouth around it.”

You did.

“I want you to suck my thumb. Get it nice and wet.”

When you started to suck, you heard him groan. It was quiet and deep, similar to the noise he made when he first got pleasure from you down in the wine cellar. He muttered a, “Cazzo,” which you understood to be “fuck”, and watched him become enraptured by your lips enclosed around his digit.

“I want you to do this when my cock is in your mouth, angel. You think you’re ready?”

You nodded and felt him pull his finger from your mouth.

He widened his legs, inviting you to sit closer, and lifted himself with his hand at the base to make it easier for you. “Tease me a little,” he told you. “Run your tongue up and down me.”

He was doing his best to not overwhelm you, keep you as comfortable as possible. Sucking dick wasn’t a big deal, he knew that, but to someone who’d never done it before it could be a little intimidating. He’d know. He remembered the first time he’d done it and how the person had guided him through it, showing him what they wanted from him and making sure they both took their time. He was so eager to please back then, he did too much too quickly and while his partner had a good time, Copia felt like he fucked it up entirely. The same went for the first pussy he ate, too.

Your mouth opened enough to let your tongue slide out, and he hissed when you made contact. You licked a broad stripe from the base up to the tip, and felt a flutter in your stomach when you heard the groan he made. So, you did it again. This time adding more pressure and earning yourself another hiss.

“A little more spit, angel,” he told you.

You gathered your saliva on your tongue and repeated the action before.

“Oh, that’s it. Take the tip in, now.”

You did one final lick before fluidly taking his tip into your mouth, sucking on the very tip of his cock gently. You didn’t know where to look at first, and so you just looked ahead at his soft tummy, but when you looked up at his face, you realised you were missing out on his expressions: the dark eyes trained on you, the way his top row of teeth bit down on his lower lip, the redness creeping up his cheeks. In that moment, you understood that seeing him enjoying it was the reason why people did this for others. Watching their reactions to your actions was the pleasure that you’d get from an act like this. And you’d do this more often if this was the response.

“Looking up at me so innocently,” he commented when you made eye contact. You’d known for a while it was your corruption that turned him on the most; sullying an angel to get revenge on a Lord he hated, to drive her closer to Hell opposed to the Heaven she came from. Perhaps you’d be lying if you said you didn’t share that feeling. Disobeying the Almighty had given you a newfound thrill - feelings you never had before.

You moved down him a little, taking the initiative first and putting the whole head in your mouth and sucked just a little harder. The Cardinal hissed and his hand flew to your hair instinctively, just how yours did to his hair when he did this to you. This wasn’t a purposeful move, this was just his body reacting to the pleasure, trying to keep you there. Once he knew what he was doing he pulled his hand away.

“S-sorry,” he grumbled.

You pulled off him with a pop. “Does it feel good?” you asked.

“So good, angel!”

You nodded and went right back to it.

“Mm, angel. Move your - fuck - head back and fo-orth, up and d-down.” When you did as he asked, he tipped his head back over the chair. “Oh merda, just like that!”

Every time you moved your head forward, you took a little bit more of him into your mouth, gaining more confidence with each of these reactions. More expletives in Italian fell from his mouth, words you didn’t care to try and translate. He tried his hardest not to buck his hips, not to fuck up into your mouth and overwhelm you too quickly, but it was feeling too good and sometimes he couldn’t help himself, shifting his hips upwards and sliding just a little more into your mouth.

“I won’t be this g-gentle with you in the future, angel- ah!” he told you. “One day, I’m gonna bury - mmm - m-myself in that tight, little throat of yours and make you cry. Cazzo! Been thinking about… about it for so long.” He let out a shaky breath. “Take a little bit more in, if you can.”

You did.

“Oh - Sathanas! Harder. S-suck harder. Gonna cu-um down that throat.”

With every instruction you followed, you watched him melt into the upholstery. His hand moved back to your hair and helped move your head at the pace he wanted, while trying his hardest not to put too much pressure on you and choke you. He wanted you to discover that on your own… or at least, later on with his help at your request.

The Cardinal was practically putty in your hands, breathlessly wrapped around your little finger as you continued to work this magic over him. He could control you with your halo, maybe you could control him with this.

He would have you take breaks, especially when you started taking more of him into your mouth, giving your throat a rest and teaching you how to touch him with your hand - another thing he really liked. He wanted a firm grip, a little rough, fast. And it was that, your hands working the base of his cock and your mouth sucking on the head that sent him over the edge.

He’d tried to warn you, tried to push you off him so he wouldn’t cum directly into your mouth for the first time, but neither of you tried hard enough, or moved quick enough to stop it from happening. And so, his cum landed on your tongue, the faint taste of iron taking you off guard for a moment. He kept his hands on your head, holding you in place while he finished in your mouth, only letting go when he was done with you.

When you popped off him, you held your hand beneath your face to catch any of him that would spill. You didn’t know what to do with it, not until the Cardinal knelt down in front of you and captured you in a kiss, using his tongue to remove as much of his cum from your mouth as he could. Some of it spilled down your chins and onto your bodies, his t-shirt becoming damp at his own cum. He swallowed the rest, as did you after seeing him do it, and let him help you up off your sore knees.

The Cardinal led you to the bathroom where you both cleaned your mouths, before you both dressed, the Cardinal in a new shirt and you back into your same robes.

“Rest up,” the Cardinal told you, putting his robes back on, “take a bath if you need to. I have to get back to work. But I fully intend on seeing you tonight.”

You simply nodded in response, and watched him leave again.

When you lay on his bed, for the first time in a long time, your instinct was to close your eyes and fall into a light sleep.

Prev./Next

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victoria-daydreams · 9 months ago

Text

The Hare and The Tower

Chapter Fourteen: Vile Rumors

AN: *scratches neck* yeah so remember when I said this chapter would be out a couple weeks after I posted that preview, well I got an upper respiratory infection literally that same week and between trying to recuperate, work, and school this was put on the back burner. Hopefully, with this chapter being long it makes up for the absence. And God help me, it's been so long since I've written anything so be easy on me lol.

Trigger Warnings: age gap, vomiting

Word Count: 5.3k

Taglist: @dogmatic255 @sidechrevans @amethystwonders11 @ladysindar @sweetwanderlust05 @newandykes @helloimlateforeverything @loveofvernonslife @stitchattacks @dariequeen @kishie8 @girlonfireice @snowymarvel1205 @greenlightower @harrypotteranna23-blog

If you want to be added to the taglist just leave a comment.

Summary: Still reeling from the fallout with Otto, Jesmyn is quickly forced to learn two harsh lessons. The transgressions of her husband are also hers to bear and brazen half-truths are worse than lies.

Chapter Fifteen: We Light the Way

A terrible dread washed through Jesmyn as she approached the carved, oak door ahead of her. The corridor was far too dark, too quiet. Her body felt heavy, and the air was akin to molasses—each step closer seeming to take a greater effort than the one before. Fear, panic, and apprehension coiled and collided within her, the onslaught of emotions created a horrible churning, stomach twisting vortex.

Coming to a standstill just outside of the door, she reached out with a trembling hand to knock on the door, but froze in mid-air.

"I've been informed I'm to travel to Driftmark with Princess Rhaenyra. We sail at dawn," Jesmyn announced quietly, her hand limply dropping back to her side.

Standing outside of Otto's bedchamber door, a shiver ran down her spine for the night seemed colder than most. Jesmyn could only stare at the warped flaws in the wood, waiting for a reply, but ultimately was met by silence. Jesmyn strained her ears for a sign of movement behind his door, for she knew he was awake, and he knew that she knew it as well. With each passing second, Jesmyn felt her heart turn into lead, sinking down further and further in her chest. She remained silent for a few more moments.

"I'm here to bid you farewell Husband, as we part on our separate journeys," she continued, placing her hand on the door. "You are angry at me, this I know," she acknowledged, releasing a shaky breath. "But I will not depart without speaking these words. I love you Otto," she said. 'Despite the harsh words we traded, my heart remains yours. Should anything—"

Forcefully, the door swung open drawing a startled gasp from her as the heat of husband’s gaze burned into her own. Otto's expression was unreadable as ever, his jaw was set tight while his mouth a thin line. They held each others stare for a few seconds, both waiting for the other to say something. Jesmyn broke first.

"I will not let our last words be ones we regret," she said firmly

Another long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Still, Otto only stared at her, an act which only began to draw Jesmyn's ire. She knew her husband well enough that she didn't expect an immediate reconciliation, but the hope was there in her mind. To her, this silence she was being subjected was bordering on ridiculous, did he not comprehend her words? She was set to sail on the unpredictable waters of the sea.

"I see," Jesmyn said softly, with a nod. "I shouldn't have came. I'm sorry for disturbing you," she apologized, dropping her eyes from him to the floor. "May sleep find you well, Husband," she wished, before turning away from Otto.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Jesmyn walked back down the corridor to her own chambers. The sun will be up again in a few hours or so.

"You posses both beauty and brawn,"

A velvety voice broke through the silence, lingering in the air like a caress. Jesmyn froze in place, mid-step, before slowly turning back around. Once more, her brown eyes stared at Otto’s blue and for the first time she finally noticed the tiredness around his eyes; the way his face was paler than usual. Their argument had taken its toll on him far more than he would let on.

"It's why I was so keen on securing your hand in marriage," Otto continued, deeply exhaling as he moved towards her. "Yet, your intellect fails you when it comes to Rhaenyra. Too blinded by friendship to recognize it is very the manner of how she manipulates you," Otto noted, coming to a stop in front of her. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against Jesmyn's hairline. "Knowingly or not," he uttered, before kissing the top of her head and lingering there for a bit.

Otto drew back and pushed the few loose hairs from where his lips had touched.

"Otto," Jesmyn whispered, leaning into his embrace.

But as quickly as his embrace came, he retreated from her. Entering his chambers, Otto spared one last glance at Jesmyn before he shut the door.

~~~x~~~

The Next Day

Sitting on the quarterdeck, needle and thread in hand, Jesmyn listened to the waves gently crash against the sides of the ship; the wood creaking as they swayed in the ocean. One by one, Jesmyn's needle stabbed through the white fabric. Her stitches small and perfect, forming the shape of the High Tower of Oldtown, its beacon unlit.

Unconsciously, she let out a breath, slow and heavy, while pulling the needle through again. All of the events from the day before still weighed heavily on her mind.

"Your stomach must be made out of cast iron, Lady Hightower," Criston said warmly

With a grin, Jesmyn looked away from her work to the knight standing in front of her.

"It has a mind of its own," she replied. "Some days I'm the vision of perfect health. Other days—"

Not too far off in the distance, Viserys groaned loudly before vomiting over the edge of the ship.

"Not unlike that, I suppose?" he questioned, slightly amused.

"Very much that," she agreed, laughing lightly. She felt her babe kicked her, as if to express its agreement. "Poor man," she added, shaking her head and glancing at the ailing king.

"Lady Hightower, may I ask you something?" Criston inquired, bringing her attention back to him.

"Of course," Jesmyn answered, a kind smile on her lips. "And there's no need for titles, we're not in front of the court. Jesmyn will be just fine," she corrected. "Ask your question Criston, my ears are open," she encouraged, gently laying down her sewing into her lap.

"Before you married Lord Hightower, did you ever think about... running away?" he asked, an unfamiliar tinge of anxiety in his words. "Freeing yourself from the duties and responsibilities unfairly placed upon you?" he went on.

Jesmyn chuckled softly, "What highborn girl hasn't?" she asked back, her shoulders slightly bouncing with humor. To answer your question, I have Criston, many times, ashamedly," she confessed.

"What stopped you?"

"Well, my family of course. I would miss them so very dearly," Jesmyn explained, as if it was obvious. "Gods, I couldn't begin to imagine the heartache my mother and father would suffer," Jesmyn continued, shaking her head. "Not only that, for my entire life I've known nothing but comfort and privilege. The thought of discarding that to be free, but poor is…unthinkable," she finished, her brows knitting together.

"Is that what most highborn girls believe?"

"I have no doubt they do," Jesmyn insisted confidently. "Make no mistake Criston, we highborn girls may constantly bemoan and complain about what is expected of us, but we know what's at stake if we don't," she assured. "I don't mean to offend, but I must say, you’re asking such strange question Criston. Why? Jesmyn wondered, her curiosity piqued.

Criston shifted from one foot to the other, "What if there was a highborn girl…one who was willing to runaway and forget all she's ever known?" he posed.

"Is she running away by herself?" Jesymn questioned, her brow furrowing.

"No, with her lover," he answered, hesitating between sentences. "Her lover who wants to take her away from everything she despises about her station,"

"Criston," Jesmyn called lowly. "Tell me, which highborn lady do you speak of?" she inquired, curiosity now morphing into concern.

"It's only a hypothetical, milady," Criston uttered, making Jesmyn's eyes narrow in suspicion. "But, should this lover and his lady runaway, know he would bring her unimaginable happiness," he said. "He has heard his lady's complaints, and wishes to free her from it all," he claimed, hope shining in his eyes.

"Criston, whatever you're thinking about doing, stop," Jesmyn stressed. "This will only end poorly for both of you," she warned.

"You don’t believe she would except my proposal,"

"Whoever this Lady is, It’s unlikely she would," she replied bluntly, with a scoff. "She's not going to give up her titles, her land, or riches for some lowb—” she continued, abruptly letting out a sharp gasp.

Her sewing needle had bit into the tip of her finger. Jesmyn couldn’t begin to recall when she had grasped her embroidery again. Crimson quickly rose to the surface of her skin, falling in heavy drops.

"My Lady!"

"I'm fine," Jesmyn reassured quickly, grabbing her handkerchief and pressing it to wound.

Silently, she was thankful for the prick against her finger, her next words would’ve crushed Criston’s hopeless romantic heart

~~~x~~~

The wagon ride to High Tide was one of bumpiness and strained silence. Lord Lyonel Strong, the new Lord Hand sat directly across from Jesmyn, casting glances of pity at her much to her annoyance. She didn't want his pity nor did she need it. Rhaenyra was seated next to her, refusing to spare her father a glance.

For the last stretch of the ride to the castle, the party had to leave the wagon and walk to the stone archway gate. Reaching the top of the stairs, the doors swung open to reveal High Tide in all its glory. Towers made out of gray stone and crowned with roofs of silver that reached high into the gloomy skies above.

The sound of steel clanging against each other drew Jesmyn's eyes away from the grandeur castle and to the two figures sparring a few feet away from the royal entourage. One possessed silver hair which she easily knew belonged to Laenor Velaryon, the other with red hair was unknown to her. The two men bowed in front of the party. It was also in that moment when Jesmyn realized no one was there to greet them.

"How odd," she thought.

"Where is Lord Corlys?" Lord Strong asked, annoyed and offended by the disrespect. "He should be here to receive the King," he reminded.

Lord Strong's words barely left his lips when the doors to the castle opened and a silver-haired man and woman descended the staircase The young woman could be none other than Lady Laena Velaryon.

"Welcome to High Tide, Your Grace," Laena greeted, with a bright smile on her face as she gracefully came down the steps.

"What is the meaning of this, Lady Laena?" Lord Strong demanded pointedly, taking a few steps forward. "Is this how House Velaryon greets its King?"

Lady Laena's smile remained, "My father has but just returned from his long journey and he has hastened to the Hall of Nine to await Your Grace's arrival," she explained easily, walking closer to them.

"Let's just get on with it," Viserys stated tiredly.

With that, everyone followed Lady Laena into High Tide. Jesmyn looked at the King from the corner of her eye, his brow glistening with sweat from the trek up here and his breathing heavier than anyone else's. It was worrisome to see Viserys’ health rapidly deteriorating before her eyes. The effects of his worsening illness had sucked away the luster of his healthy complexion and been replaced with a sickly white color. From what Otto told her, poorly healed wounds littered Viserys' body and the cost of that led to having two fingers on one hand removed. It's why he always wore gloves nowadays.

Once Viserys and Lord Strong walked inside the Hall of Nine, the guards immediately closed the door before Rhaenyra, Laena, or Jesmyn could enter themselves.

From her left, Jesmyn heard Rhaenyra let out an annoyed huff. Jesmyn could hear the Princess' thoughts without having to have them spoken. First, father decided who she should marry and now she's not even allowed to join the conversation.

"Come," Laena said as she intertwined her arms on Rhaenyra's and Jesmyn's. "Let us see what might be had to break our fast,"

~~~x~~~

The three girls conversed with one another while enjoying a fine breakfast. After about an hour or two, Laena gave Jesmyn and Rhaenyra a tour of High Tide. When their tour concluded, Rhaenyra decided to depart from the group so she could speak privately with her betrothed. Laena followed suit, being escorted back to her room by one of her servants for a dress fitting. This left Jesmyn to her own devices.

Leaning over on the outdoor balcony railing, Jesmyn exhaled as she gazed out at the ocean. The view was something straight from a painting. Above, the sun beamed down onto the gentle waves below her causing the water to take on a tint of gold. It was beautiful—breathtaking, really. The ocean reminded her of his eyes. They were deep, powerful, and sometimes mysterious, yet always comforting and gentle. Jesmyn smiled inwardly at the thought, wondering how Otto is fairing on his trip back to Oldtown.

Glancing down, Jesmyn could see the silhouettes of Rhaenyra and Laenor far off in the distance on the sandy shore.

"I must admit, I was surprised to learn of your presence amongst the voyage with the royal party,"

Jesmyn's breath caught itself in her throat, startled by the voice. Turning away from the railing, Jesmyn did not anticipate to see Princess Rhaenys in front of her.

She dropped into a curtsy, "Princess Rhaenys," she greeted, lowering her head. "It's an honor," she added sincerely.

"I hear a congratulations is in order," Rhaenys said, motioning for her to rise. "Laena told me you are with child once more, Lady Hightower"

"I am, Princess Rhaenys," Jesmyn answered, beaming ear to ear. "Thank you," she said, dipping her chin slightly.

"This will be your third child, correct?" Rhaenys questioned curiously.

"Yes," Jesmyn replied, her hand instinctively coming to rest on the bump. "There were some complications in my last pregnancy, but Lord Hightower and I made it through," she informed, rubbing her hand up and down her stomach.

"If you are here, I'm curious to know where is the Lord Hightower?" Rhaenys wondered. "Seeing as he has fallen out of the King’s favor," she reminded.

"My Lord Husband is returning to Oldtown," Jesmyn informed. "No doubt he’s already making the long journey back to The Reach," she guessed.

"You will not be joining him?"

"No, I will not, neither will the twins. King's Landing will remain our home," Jesmyn answered. "Princess Rhaenyra offered me the position of being her lady in waiting a day before my husband's dismal," she explained. "I accepted,"

Rhaenys only hummed, her eyes doing a once over of Jesmyn, "I can't imagine your husband was enthused about this arrangement,"

"Livid more like," Jesmyn corrected, a mirthless chuckle escaping her lips.

"And yet, this outcome, unfavorable as it is, Lord Hightower still managed to succeed in one aspect," Rhaenys said, her gaze turning into a calculated one. "Albeit, a small one," she added pointedly.

"And that is?" Jesmyn asked, not liking the shift of mood in the air.

"You, Lady Hightower," Rhaenys answered simply. "Who better to be his eyes and ears while he's away from court than his own wife, a lady in waiting to Princess Rhaenyra herself," she said, making Jesmyn's eyes bulge.

"I-I would never—" Jesmyn spluttered.

"There are things we think ourselves never capable of doing, but we wound up doing them all the same," Rhaenys cut in, taking a step closer to her. "Loyalty, seems to be a weakness for Lord Hightower. When push comes to shove, we'll discover together if you share that same weakness as your Lord Husband, Lady Hightower," she finished in a whisper, as Jesmyn visibly shrank back from the icy glare.

~~~x~~~

King's Landing

With a cold stare, Jesmyn scanned the near lifeless shell that was supposed to serve as her living quarters from now on. It was a downgrade from The Tower, but pleasant nonetheless. The space was cozily furnished, echoing the opulence and expensiveness of the quarters she resided in with her family when she was unmarried.

Unceremoniously, Jesmyn allowed herself to plop down onto the plush settee before maneuvering her body to lay flat on her back. A loud, exhausted sigh came from her as her head rested on the arm of the settee, one of her ankles dangled off the cushion. Jesmyn's entire morning had been chaotic since the moment the ship sailed from Driftmark back to King's Landing.

Standing at the quarterdeck, Jesmyn watched the foamy waves as they rocked the ship through the water. A light sea wind blew against her, moving her hair slightly into her face. It all happened so fast, one moment she was admiring the sun shining brightly in the clear blue sky. Then, Criston storming off in her direction, his mood darkening anything in the vicinity and cryptically uttering three words bitterly as he passed, "You were right,"

Lest she forget the most startling occurrence of the morning, King Viserys collapsing to the ground after taking one step outside the wheelhouse in King's Landing. A shocking scene to witness, but Jesmyn's mind couldn’t have been further elsewhere. Since last night, she remained in a sour mood after her conversation with Princess Rhaenys, which she knew Rhaenyra had noticed the change in her demeanor.

What was she supposed tell her? That her older cousin accused her of being just as deceitful as her husband was and attacked her character? Rhaenyra would only brush it off as Princess Rhaenys' personality of not being one to mince words or her usual cynicism. To keep her sanity, Jesmyn decided to remain silent and to brood, her feelings had been dismissed more than enough times in the past two days, she was ready to snap if it happened once more.

Slowly, Jesmyn's eyes began to droop low, the toll of the voyage beginning to weigh on her body.

"Lady Hightower," a handmaiden called softly.

Jesmyn's eyes fluttered open, shifting them to the young girl in front of her, "Yes?" she answered irritatedly.

"You've been summoned," the handmaiden informed.

Exhaling heavily, Jesmyn swung her feet to the floor and pushed herself up from the settee into a sitting position. An action her baby was not particularly fond of as they gave a sharp kick in her kidneys which caused her to suck in air and wince. Gently, Jesmyn rubbed circles on her stomach to calm her baby down before gingerly standing up.

"Am I to meet Princess Rhaenyra in her quarters?" Jesmyn asked, her hand resting on her bump.

"It wasn’t the Princess who summoned you, milady," the handmaiden corrected, making Jesmyn's eyebrow arch. "The Queen wishes to see you,"

The journey to Alicent's chambers was longer than it should have, inexplicably she began to feel nauseous with every step she took forcing her to make several stops along the way. Standing outside the Queen's private chamber door, Jesmyn squeezed her eyes closed and pushed out a deep breath.

A handmaiden opened the door, allowing her to enter the room, but Jesmyn's steps faltered when she realized Alicent was not alone. Criston was inside as well. The door shut behind her and Jesmyn curtsied to Alicent.

"My Queen—" she began, but stopped when she felt her stomach attempting to leap out of her throat. Jesmyn clamped her hand over her mouth, trying to quell the nausea.

"Oh you poor thing!" Alicent comforted, standing up from her seat and rushing towards her. "Has the voyage left you ill?" she asked, her eyes sympathetic as she helped Jesmyn to her full height from her bow before leading her to the sofa she occupied only moments before.

"It's nothing," Jesmyn reassured, watching Alicent sit back down. "I just need to lay down and this sickness will pass,” she explained.

"Then I will try to make this quick," Alicent stated, which made Jesmyn cock her head slightly. "Sit, why don't you," she suggested nervously, patting the empty cushion beside her.

"I am not fragile Alicent, honest," Jesmyn said, chuckling at her friend’s fretting.

"As you wish," Alicent said, with a nod and an uneasy smile. "I…I—how should I say this?" she questioned, but it was directed towards herself.

Jesmyn frowned at the swift change of mood from Alicent and glanced over to Criston. Briefly, he met her stare before guiltily lowering his eyes to the floor.

"Has some—"

"Rhaenyra lied to you!"

The sharpness of Alicent's interjection struck Jesmyn with icy coldness as she slowly digested her words. Jesmyn's heart faltered a beat, an invisible dagger plunging into it. A pressure on her chest.

"No…no…" she choked out in denial, slowly shaking her head back and forth.

Jesmyn's stomach suddenly twisted itself violently into a tighter knot than it had earlier. For a moment, she could feel nothing, and yet everything all at once. She couldn't speak, her body going numb, feeling light and heavy at the same time. Jesmyn was scarcely capable of forming a coherent thought. Rage, horror, sadness, and betrayal coursed through her, fighting each other for dominance.

"S-She swore on her mother's grave!" she whispered to herself. "She swore on her mother's grave!" she repeated, in near frenzy.

To remain standing any longer was a growing challenge for Jesmyn by the second, when finally her trembling legs gave out beneath her. She sank down onto the sofa, a fog clouding her mind while dizziness spun through her skull. Jesmyn's heart pounded in her ears, filling her head with noise. She couldn't hear anything outside the deafening sounds of her own breath. Otto's words from last night gradually became deafening in her head.

"Too blinded by friendship to recognize it is very the manner of how she manipulates you,"

Faintly, Jesmyn thought she heard her name, but couldn’t make out the owner of the voice saying it.

"Jesmyn?" the voice asked, somewhere in the distance

Suddenly, a pair of hands, that were soft yet firm, grasped her own. They forced Jesmyn from her daze, causing her eyes to snap up to meet Alicent's.

"Rhaenyra wouldn't do that to me," Jesmyn said, her voice hoarse and sounding nothing like her own. "I—I value our friendship so dearly, I went against my own beloved husband," she continued airily, still feeling far, far away from her body.

"It's true, Jesmyn," Alicent reaffirmed, squeezing her hands. "She lied to you, to us," she shifted her stare to Criston. "Tell her Ser Criston," she demanded.

"Lady Hightower, it was I who laid with Princess Rhaenyra that night," Criston confessed, looking down in shame.

Jesmyn swallowed Criston's confession bitterly, "She told the truth, on a technicality," she said, inhaling a deep breath and shuddering slightly. "Daemon didn't fuck her in that pleasure house, but it was you who took her maidenhood?"

"Yes, My Lady,"

A gasping, broken sob reverberated in the air, "W-What have I done? My marriage is in…ruins ….and for what? Jesmyn wondered, her voice wavering as her words came out in short breaths. "I–I need to write Otto, I—" she went on, until her stomach lurched suddenly and Jesmyn gasped. "I think I'm going to be sick,"

Swiftly, a chamberpot was held out in front of her which Jesmyn snatched into her grasp before hurling into it, spewing out her meal from earlier in the morning. She remained in the same position for a while, still retching.

"Thank the gods, a servant just cleaned that and left it here," Alicent commented, rubbing Jesmyn’s back.

Raising her face from the chamberpot, Jesmyn's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight of the contents within the pot. Gingerly, she placed the pot down onto the table, fearing that she'd throw up again if she stared at it too long.

"Alicent, I'm so sorry you had to bear witness to that," Jesmyn quavered, reclining against the sofa and clutching her stomach. "You as well, Sir Criston," she added, looking over to him.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Alicent stated.

"I must go," Jesmyn announced shakily, dabbing the corners of her mouth with the inside of her wrist. "Arrangements need to be made," she informed, standing up.

The abrupt movement caused stars to dance in front of her eyes. Jesmyn’s hand shot out to grip the back of the sofa chair to steady herself, feeling her heart rate speed up.

"Jesmyn?"

She waved her hand dismissively, "I'm fine," Jesmyn assured, with a tight smile despite exhaustion creeping over her.

"Are you sure, Lady Hightower?" Criston questioned.

"I said I’m fine Sir Criston!" Jesmyn repeated sharply, releasing her grip from the couch and righting herself.

Taking a few steps forward, Jesmyn felt herself sway on her feet while her sight became strangely blurred. She blinked in rapid succession, blood pounding wildly in her ears and drowning out all sounds around her. Unsteadily, she moved forward again, however this time Jesmyn could no longer feel the floor beneath her feet. The room began to spin right before Jesmyn's eyes, rendering her sense of direction completely null. Darkness crept around the edges of her blurred vision, forcing her to close her eyes and orient herself. It was a misguided action to take.

Once her eyes shut, her knees buckled beneath her sending her collapsing to the floor.

~~~x~~~

Jesmyn awoke with a start, her eyes snapping open as a startled gasp escaped her. Wildly, her eyes darted around in confusion and panic as she took in her surroundings. A few seconds passed before Jesmyn realized she was in her bed within her new quarters, safe. Squeezing her eyes shut, Jesmyn exhaled heavily and rubbed her hand over her eyes. When she reopened her eyes, Alicent stood just inches away from the foot of her bed.

"Gods!" Jesmyn exclaimed, her body jolting with fright.

"Apologies, I didn't intend to scare you," Alicent said gently. "I heard rustling from within here, and came to check on you," she explained.

Carefully, Jesmyn pushed herself up from the bed and leaned back against the headboard.

"What happened?" Jesmyn asked, blinking and rubbing her eyes once more.

"You fainted," Alicent answered, looking over her in concern. "It all happened so quickly, you were unsteady on your feet, then you just crumbled to the floor. I don’t know what was worse, seeing you collapse or hearing it. Scared Ser Criston and I to death,"

Jesmyn's hand shot down to her stomach, "My baby—""

"Is just fine," Alicent cut in reassuringly. "Maester Mellos assured me as much," she answered, causing Jesmyn to let a sigh of relief. "How are you feeling now?" Alicent questioned.

"A bit dizzy, still," Jesmyn replied, turning her head to look out the window to see the sun was beginning to set. "I could only imagine what your father would say if he witnessed my fainting spell," she remarked, a small grin creeping on her lips.

"Probably forbid you from ever leaving the bed and have you waited on hand and foot" she joked, and the girls shared a laugh with each other.

Jesmyn faced Alicent again, "By the Seven, Otto's fussing over could be unbearable, but now that he’s no longer at court with me, I'll miss it more than I thought possible," she admitted, her mood turning solemn and dropping her stare down at her hands.

"And it's my fault," she thought.

A frown creased her forehead, "Has she heard about the incident, the princess?" Jesmyn spat out, disdain dripping from each word.

"She has, but I had a handmaiden to relay the message that you are not to be disturbed, maester’s orders," Alicent answered, with a half smirk.

"Good," Jesmyn said, nodding to herself. "I don't know how I will bring myself to assist Rhaenyra with all the festivities for her wedding this week, let alone, the opening feast tomorrow," she commented, her eyes narrowing.

"So don't," Alicent responded simply, making Jesmyn raise her head in shock.

"What do you mean, don't?" Jesmyn repeated, brows furrowing.

Alicent moved to stand by her bedside, "We'll discuss it further tomorrow, when you're better," she said, bending down to give a quick peck on Jesmyn's cheek.

~~~x~~~

Lords and Ladies from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms flocked to King's Landing to celebrate the wedding of the two most powerful Houses in Westeros, the Targaryens and the Velaryons. The joyous festivities commenced with a grand feast, promising a night full of dancing, drinking, and merriment. However, these feelings were not shared by all.

In silence, two young women walked the halls of the Red Keep side by side. For Jesmyn, everything was numb and nothing felt real. She walked daze like through the halls, following the noises from the throne room. Almost a decade long of friendship and good will, gone within a blink of an eye. All from one, little half lie. A lie which Rhaenyra allowed to leave her lips effortlessly.

"The ceremony is beginning," Alicent noted, rousing Jesmyn from her stupor.

Standing in front of throne room, Jesmyn could hear Viserys' echoing voice behind the massive doors.

She looked to Alicent, "We've discussed this for hours on end, but now that the moment's here I find myself rather nervous," Jesmyn admitted.

"Don't be," Alicent insisted, turning to face Jesmyn. "Princess Rhaenyra has made it crystal clear where her loyalties lie," she reminded, her eyes hardening. "It's time we do the same," she declared quietly.

Jesmyn glanced down to both of their gowns they donned for the evening, green like the beacon of Hightower.

"We will certainly turn heads that's for sure," Jesmyn stated, a slight chuckle escaping her.

"Head high," Alicent ordered gently, using her finger to lightly lift up Jesmyn's chin. "What are we?" Alicent questioned, allowing a small grin to form on her lips.

"We're Hightower women," Jesmyn answered confidently, with a smirk.

"And what do we do?"

"We light the way,"

Holding each other's stare, Alicent and Jesmyn nodded their heads in unison.

"Shall we?" Jesmyn asked, holding her arm out.

"With pleasure," Alicent responded confidently, linking her arm with Jesmyn's. "Open the doors!" she demanded, staring ahead at the guards.

With a low creak, Jesmyn could see a sliver of the throne room and at the center of it stood Viserys, still giving his speech.

"Reaching back to the old days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons. With House Targaryen and H-" Viserys cut himself off mid sentence, as the sound of the doors opening drew his attention ahead.

Every courtier followed his gaze to the doors where Alicent and Jesmyn stood arm in arm. Instantly, murmurs filled the room as everyone rose to their feet, Hightower being one of the first houses to do so. The two of them were the essence of grace as they made their way deeper into the hall. Jesmyn dared glance in Rhaenyra's direction to see her subtly horrified expression, Jesmyn told a lie of her own this day; that she was too unwell to assist and attend the feast tonight. When truthfully, she wished to be as far away as possible from the princess. Jesmyn kept her face neutral. Her eyes were detached, scornful, but she was more composed than she had been for the past 48 hours, albeit without her typical jovialness.

Jesmyn passed her family's table, catching the stares of her family members. Curiosity was in all their eyes, they were well aware how close Jesmyn had been with Rhaenyra. So, for her to be making such a bold move with Alicent, who was draped in Hightower green they knew something must of went down. Jesmyn met her parent's stare, silently telling them, we'll speak later.

Approaching the Hightower table, Jesmyn smoothly removed her arm from Alicent's and seemingly glided over to where Hobert stood. A proud smirk on his lips, Hobert bows his heads to Alicent along with several members of the table. To Jesmyn's surprise, her good brother extended this gesture towards her as well which she happily returned.

"Hobert," Jesmyn greeted quietly.

"Good sister," he responded, extending his hand out to help her sit.

Once Alicent was seated at the table, Viserys began to resume his speech which Jesmyn and Alicent had interrupted with their dramatic entrance, but it was apparent he could not remember where he had left off. It wasn’t until Lord Lyonel Strong slightly leaned over to Viserys that he remembered his train of thought.

"With House Targaryen and House Velaryon united," Viserys continued, "I hope to herald a second Age of Dragons in Westeros," he proclaimed, which received applause along with some banging on the tables. "And after tonight's small affair," he joked, causing laughter to echo in the room. "Seven days of tournament and feasting – and at the end of it all – a royal wedding between my daughter and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark,"

Applause thundered across the hall once more and shortly thereafter, Rhaenyra and Laenor's first dance followed. All eyes were glued the couple as the beating of drums echoed in the hall, taking Rhaenyra's outstretched hand Laenor began their dance with one another.

"Good brother," Jesmyn called lowly, and Hobert shifted his attention to her. "Might you have room for a wheelhouse of three on the trip back home?" she asked curiously.

"Don't you mean four, good sister?" he corrected softly, with a small grin which Jesmyn shared.

When the dance was finished, lords and ladies flocked to the dance floor to join in with the dancing as well. Meanwhile, Jesmyn was on her feet to mainly stretch her legs, but it quickly turned into Hobert proudly showing her off to the rest of the Hightower's at their table.

"There's another son of Oldtown growing within her, I'm confident!" Hobert exclaimed, beaming happily at the thought.

In the most bizarre turn of events, Hobert's and Jesmyn's relationship had actually blossomed due to the birth of the twins. The way the older man incessantly pestered her about having children, people would think she was married to him and not his younger brother. Looking back now, Jesmyn realized all he truly wanted was nieces and nephews to spoil, but gods above, he could've been so less cruel about it.

She laughed, "My stomach is hanging low," Jesmyn remarked, holding the bump.

"No, it’s going to be a girl this time around!" a female cousin disagreed, eyes gleaming at the thought. "Twin girls!" she added excitedly.

"Otto would faint," Jesmyn replied, another laughing bubbling out of her.

"Yes, and he wouldn't be the only one," Hobert stated humorously.

A chorus of laughter rang out from the Hightower table and from the corner of her eye, Jesmyn saw Alicent approaching them. For the first time that night, Jesmyn saw a genuine smile on Alicent's face as she walked towards her uncle. Bowing before her, Hobert lightly grasped her arms and bore a proud grin once more.

"Thank you for coming, uncle," Alicent said, happily greeting him.

"I worried that given leave of your father's shadow, you might wither in King's Landing's sun. But, I see that you stand tall. Know that Oldtown stands with you," Hobert declared, and Alicent with nodded a tiny smirk at his words. "I see you even managed to talk some sense into Jesmyn about returning home," he mentioned, making the vein Jesmyn's forehead throb.

"Oh, I didn’t—"

"Hobert, I was just beginning to grow fond of you, until now," Jesmyn bantered, but also was half serious.

"My daughter jests, she was taught to never hold grudges," Lord Clarick stated, from behind her.

"Wait until I tell you about the antics Rhaenyra's been up to recently, that will surely make you rethink that lesson," Jesmyn thought.

She spun around, "Father!" Jesmyn greeted happily, walking towards him with her arms outstretched.

Grinning, Lord Clarick brings her into a careful hug feeling her growing belly against him.

"It's good to see you on your feet, Jesmyn. The Queen told me that you collapsed yesterday," Lord Clarick said, with a small frown as he took a hold of her hands.

"I'm fine Father, a combination of tiredness and a little nausea from traveling to Driftmark and back," Jesmyn lied, squeezing his hands to reassure him.

"Speaking of The Queen," he began, his voice dropping so only she could hear him. "What was—"

Suddenly, screams pierced the air in the hall, causing Jesmyn to flinch before whipping her head to the dance floor.

She stepped away from Lord Clarick, "What’s going on?" Jesmyn asked, panic in her question.

Then, the crowd started scattering like rats from the area where scream originated and the throne room was plunged into absolute chaos. Bumping and shoving quickly ensued as the mass attempt by courtiers to run toward the exit led to people being trampled on. Jesmyn was just barely able to react in time to protect herself and her baby. With the crowd jostling around her, she was pushed further and further away from her father and Hobert. Frantically looking around through the sea of bodies, she managed to catch the eyes of Hobert who was next to a younger Hightower cousin.

"Hobert!" Jesmyn screamed, terror in her eyes as she protectively pressed her arm against her stomach.

Hobert looked at the young man and pointed to her, immediately he fought his way over to her. Strong arming his way through, he scooped her up as if she was light as a feather and began carrying her to safety. Jesmyn searched the crowd from her new vantage point, still trying to determine what caused all this, but even from the shoulders of her cousin, she couldn't see.

However, despite the madness that enveloped the throne room, a single thought arose in Jesmyn's mind, pushing out all others.

"This disastrous wedding is nothing less than what Rhaenyra deserves,"

~~~x~~~

A few days later

Servants hurried about to and from, carrying trunks of various sizes to the many wheelhouses that lined the courtyard of the Red Keep. At the center of this tempest activity stood Jesmyn, being seen off by two members of the royal family.

"I do wish you would stay, but I think being among family and friends in Oldtown will do well for you and the babe," Alicent said, a smile gracing her features. "And the little ones too," she added, giving Vanesha's button nose a playful squeeze.

Squealing in laughter, Vanesha squirmed around in her older sister's arms.

"I couldn’t agree more, my Queen," Jesmyn responded, mirroring Alicent's expression. "It's been too long since I been in Oldtown. Despite our quarrel, I know having the twins home will bring your father the much needed joy after everything that has transpired," she commented, as Alicent handed Vanesha off to the waiting handmaiden to take her.

"You'll write me the moment you're safely inside Hightower, yes?" Alicent questioned earnestly.

"Was there ever a doubt?" Jesmyn asked back humorously. Her eyes slid to Criston, who stood protectively next to Alicent's side. "Ser Criston, I trust you will look after our Queen with my departure? True friends are so difficult to find in these times," she mentioned.

Criston bowed his head, "You have my word, Lady Hightower," he promised, a ghost of smirk on his face.

With a smile, Jesmyn moved away from Alicent and Criston and towards Rhaenyra who stood with her new sworn shield, Harwin Strong. Sauntering purposefully over to the princess, the pebbles in courtyard crunched underneath Jesmyn's shoes. Even with the flurry of activity around them, the strident noise pierced the air in the otherwise noisy courtyard.

Standing in front Rhaenyra, Jesmyn had gone from cheerful to stoic in a split second.

"Princess Rhaenyra," Jesmyn greeted curtly, curtsying to her.

"It pains me to see you go. I was so looking forward to our spent together as my lady in waiting Jesmyn," Rhaenyra said diplomatically, and Jesmyn involuntarily quirked an eyebrow at the use of her name.

"Yes, well, after having some time to reconsider my decision following that nasty business that occurred at your wedding feast, I've come to realize something," Jesmyn stated, peering down at Rhaenyra with an expressionless stare. "Without my Lord Husband, I find King's Landing an ill-suited environment to raise my children, so many unsavory characters here at court. It would be ashamed if they were tainted by proximity," she asserted, her eyes boring into Rhaenyra's who subtly shrank underneath their gaze.

Jesmyn let Rhaenyra suffer under her withering stare a few seconds longer before clearing her throat and removing her arms from underneath her cloak. In her hands, Jesmyn held an object slightly larger than both of her palms put together.

"I do have a gift for you though, Princess Rhaenyra," Jesmyn informed, keeping the object face down. "Something for you to remember me by in my absence here," she finished, finally the presenting the gift to Rhaenyra.

With its face up, Jesmyn held the finished embroidery of the High Tower of Oldtown, its beacon lit.

#otto hightower x reader #black!reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #games of thrones oc #otto hightower x oc #hotd x reader #got x reader #black fanfiction

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years ago

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Fell in love with quirky murderbot so here's a quirky murderbot Yan that may or may not just want to kill you (tw: death mentions/idolization)

A bath at six in the morning.

You never had the time or energy for it before...

The water was nice. Not too hot, not too cold; pealing the spell of sleep off you at a temperature ideal for a peaceful rise. Enmeshed with first light of the waking sun, the water captures its amber glow - sunken petals at your feet shaded in the afterglow. It smelled faintly of lavender, and a colleague of lesser offenders you couldn't tell. Citrus?... Vanilla? You can't recall a time when your skin has felt smoother - so you don't bother to ask. You know better than to.

The door opens. You lower your knees as the latching stand of a tray attaches to the arms of the tub. Yogurt peers up at you from its bowl with a blueberry smile and sliced banana eyes. A flower vase, and a pair of headphones are its offering to you. A yellow smiley face sticker is plastered to the glass' side.... It shines your spoon before setting it on the tray.

"Brought you leetle snack to keep you steady til you get out. Studies show everything in it boosts mood and happiness levels in humans. I also brought you some headphones so that my outbursts don't effect you while I'm preparing breakfast."

You blow air into the water as you sink deep. "Mhm...."

Your observer gasps. "By my calculations, you seem more relaxed than usual this morning." Does that mean my services have acceptable this morning?"

Here it comes. "I guess."

"You are... satisfied with my work and efforts?"

"Yes."

"... Gonna smile for me?"

"nah."

A knife clatters to the floor.

"I spent nine hours.... "

You put on the headphones as you ease against the floor of the tub.

"9 FUCKING HOURS GETTING THAT PANSY SCHTICK DOWN PACK. DO U KNOW HOW FUCKIN' HARD THAT IS FOUR ME?!?! I GET ROBOT PTSD EVERYTIME I LOOK AT THOSE MANUALS."

"At least you spoke proper English."

"I ran you a bath and didn't plant one of my eyes in the cabinet this time .... BE HAPPY FOUR ONE SEC AND LET ME KILL YOU ALREADY GOD DAMN IT!"

The world is full of too many unfortunate people. Scornful and bitter; miserable and hopeless. It much be such a pain for those people to exist in place unfit for them - when a solution was right around the corner, but they're too damaged to ever see it. You can't be down, if The moto engraved into the mechanized heart of every bot sent out by the Happy Dayz corporation to this prevalent threat to society. They could be anyone you know.

"DOWN3R 4L3RT!!!!!! THR0UGH M0D3R4T10N 4ND H34VY CONSIDERATION, Y0U [Y/n], H4V3 B33N T4RG3T3D 4S 4 D0WN3R. TH3 0NLY CUR3 1S IMM3DIATE T3RM1N4T10N AS T0 4V01D WIDESPREAD INF3CT10N OF THE DISEASE. IF YOU BELIEVE THIS IS AN ERROR, PLEASE RESPOND TO THIS EMAIL WITHIN 4 HOURS AND TWENTY MINUTES OF RECEIVING. TH4NKS. XOXO]

Downer - level three in their classifications and the "incurables" People who will drag themselves and everyone around them down for a crumb of self gratification. Those who drown in the rain when the sun is a reach away; never to come back to shore. Orders were to execute these individuals on sight - but everyone deserves one last chance to smile. And that's how you met D.Kay

In your utmost defense, it was nearly three when you received the email. Even if you were awake, you probably would've written it off as spam and tossed it away all the same. You didn't think of yourself as a negative person, just one with not alot to be happy for. Within those few hours before dawn came a knock at the door and your worse nightmare unveiled - wearing that damned yellow mask.

"Hiya! Name'z D.Kay! Short for somethin' I kno, but U won't be alive long nuff for me to remember. I should be slammin' ur head through a wall, but it'z ur right as a living human to get one more smile in before u croak and my job to make it happen."

That was five months ago. Five long months. Given, there were some benefits. It was their goal to make your life better after all - before ending it. They helped you get a raise, cleaned up messed they mostly made, and a slew of efforts to bring out that smile. Sure your lips may quirk up or you'll smirk a bit - but that isn't a smile. They've also thrown knives into your walls, taken over your bed and refuse to let you sleep elsewhere, and snores. There's also the whole killing you thing, but that's minor at this point.

"Aw, come on- Dyin' cain't be that bad. I'd do it if I could. U'll feel better once ur in the grave." "Smiling feels so good, u' kno. The best way to use ur muscles. Besides slitting someone's throat." "This is my first mission....I was hoping to see gutz by now."

That was as far as your relationship went until one month ago. They've been acting.. strange. They wish you good morning more days than they ask if you're ready to smile. You often wake up with their arms around you and your clothes laid out. They refuse to let you dress yourself if you're going out. They stare for hours, jumping out windows if needed to get when you notice. You didn't have many friends before, but with them around they were ghosts. If you didn't know any better it was almost like they-

"LET ME KISS YOU - WHY ARE U MAKING THIS SO HARD!"

Nevermind. Wait- "Did you say...."

D.kay's impossibly side eyes shrink, mask bleeding red. "I SAID KILL. K-I-L-L. WHY WOULD I EVER BE DOWN BAD FOR A DOWNER?"

"Then why haven't you killed me yet?"

All at once their tantrum stops. It's the shortest to date. Their head dips back as if pulling the most dramatic of eye rolls. "Protocol.. U know that."

"I read the manual. If a downer refuses your olive branch you have permission to kill them and return immediately."

D.kay doesn't say a word, face still beat red from their slip up. Their hands twitch. Seething, they snatch the spoon from the tray. "Good luck without this. Enjoy your bath."

They slam the door as they leave, sinking again it. Hearing the water remain still, they pull their legs to their chest and kick the wall, hold back enough to prevent another hole. They always come when you're upset - why can't you do anything right? They pull a photo from their pocket. The photo. A picture of someone who looks so much like you it's scary, but they could never be you. They're smiling. It's small - a blip compared to the cheesy grins of everyone surrounding them, but it's still a smile. The best they've ever seen. Something feels wrong whenever they look between you and that person. Maybe they're broken too.

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere android #yandere robot #D.kay my oc

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resowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Rogue’s Company - oneshot.

Summary: Henry and his wife become parents…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, mention/some detail of birth (I’ve tried to write as sensitively as possible but please avoid if you’re unsure), banter/British humour, language, dialogue heavy, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2095

A/N: This was supposed to go up next week but I’ve just got too much on. There are a few more pieces that I can post asap but I’m also happy to leave the story here - let me know if you want more.

Please note: as I've tried to write this story as both standalone oneshots and an ongoing series, I now have to use more imagery to flesh out this arc and I'm aware this may disappoint some of you. But I want you all to know, whether you're a regular reader of mine or not, I will always adore and support you no matter who you are or what you look like. Please also note: this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. Love you guys ~ R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Rogue's Company.

Her eyes adjusted slowly to the soft but unnatural light. At first, she didn't recognise the off-white walls, punctuated at intervals by bland pictures. After a while, she could hear a strange muffled sound. She realised someone was speaking. "Ollie? Are you awake?" It was Henry.

"W-where… am I?"

"The hospital, darling. You've been asleep the last six hours." Then it dawned on her. She'd given birth that morning.

"Where… where is he?" He smiled softly.

"He's fast asleep, as you should be. Come on, close your eyes." Henry smoothed her hair and hushed her softly, but a burning desire stopped her from slipping back into the depths of sleep. She had to see him.

"Where is he?" His brow furrowed slightly.

"He's just over there, darling. Don't you remember? He guzzled a whole bottle of milk and fell right to sleep…”

"Need to see him--" she tried to sit up slightly but pain shot through her stomach. Her grimace made Henry hold her down by the shoulders.

"Oh no you don't. You've got to try and relax for me darling, or you'll hurt worse." He eyed the buzzer above the bed, wondering if he should call the nurse. That morning suddenly flooded back to her. She remembered the high blue screen, the nauseating sensation as her stomach was pulled apart until… cries. Soft at first and then harder, stronger. They'd had a son. Her need to see him grew desperate.

"Darling, please. I must see him." Henry bit his lip but decided the only thing to do was to wheel the trolley over to her side. He did so painfully slowly, eager not to wake the little bundle wrapped within it. When Henry finally came to a stop, a smile spread across his face. Her eyes were glued to him immediately. Swathed in a white blanket and fitted with a tiny knitted hat, their baby boy was divine. His small fists were bundled up by his cheeks but his bottom lip stuck out, making his expression carefree.

"He's so lovely, isn't he?" He whispered though she could hardly find the words. Instead, tears filled her exhausted, heavy eyes. Henry gently wiped her face as her eyes screwed shut. "Oh darling, you're in pain aren't you?" When she didn't respond, he pressed the red button to the top left of her hospital bed. Moments later, an older woman in bright blue scrubs breezed into the room.

"Good afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Cavill! I was just about to check on you both. How are you dear? Is your stomach giving you grief?" But Ollie couldn't tear her eyes away from the small bundle to her left.

"Sorry, she's a bit preoccupied…" Henry nodded toward their son.

"Ah, well that's alright. I just need to do a couple of checks and then I can bring you both up some dinner if you’d like?" He tried repeating the offer to his wife but her attention was still fixed solely on their little boy. The nurse went about checking her as quickly and carefully as she could. She also gave her some stronger pain relief. But instead of feeling sleepy, Ollie rallied and became fully aware that she was now a mother. Her sobs came hard and fast.

"Darling, what is it?" The nurse patted Henry gently on the arm.

"It's alright, it's just overwhelming isn't it?" Ollie nodded, somewhat embarrassed that she was feeling so overcome. "I just need to take him for a few minutes so I can see how he's doing as well?" She felt reluctant for anyone to go anywhere near him, but she was hardly in a position to resist. He stroked her hand and reassured her when she could hear their little boy stir the minute he was placed on a table at the other end of the room.

"Is he alright?! You're not hurting him?!" Henry and the nurse chuckled.

"He's fine darling! And I'm sure once the nurse is done she'll let you hold him?" He looked over at her for confirmation.

"Yes, of course! But you'll have to support his bottom, she won't be strong enough just yet to hold him by herself. Let me see now, he's still six pounds, three ounces, and eighteen inches long…" Ollie craned her neck to try and get a better view.

"Has he still got two balls?" She swatted Henry with her hand but immediately regretted it when the sensation reverberated through her stomach. She gathered her strength to try and sit up properly. He dashed to help her.

"I'm fine love, stop fussing over me… are those measurements okay? It seems pretty small." The nurse smiled softly as she put their son back in his babygrow.

"It's somewhat on the small side but he's all good, you've got a very sweet little boy. Well, I'll leave you three to it. I'll be back with dinner in about half an hour, if you need help using the bathroom just buzz. For now, try and get some rest and when you're ready with a name, just let me know." She then smiled, handed their son over to Henry, and made her way from the room. For a while, he just stood holding him, rocking gently back and forth. His whimpering hadn't quite died down but Ollie couldn’t stand it any longer.

"Henry, I can't see him! Please, put him on my chest--"

"Alright, alright, here he is…" Henry ducked down, careful not to put too much pressure on either her chest or stomach. Immediately she was struck by his eyes - bright blue like his father’s. She felt her lip tremble. He just chuckled softly. "So… what do you think? He woke up an hour after you fell asleep and just gurgled away happily in his cot. He hasn't cried once!" She stared down at his little face and felt a strange sensation spread through her chest. It was pure, unconditional love.

"He's… glorious. Even though he looks just like you!" It was true. From the dark tufts of hair on his head to the strong jaw and double chin, there was no denying who his father was.

"Yeah, but he's got your ears, look," Henry rotated him slightly so she could see the side of his head.

"Well that's a relief…" They both laughed. “Wow. I can't believe we made that…" He laughed again.

"I know, I still can't even believe he's here! It feels like only yesterday you told me you were pregnant…" Henry kissed her cheek for what felt like the hundredth time that day. But her eyes were still glued to their son who was cooing to himself.

"Bloody hell… he's chatty like you as well."

"You should have heard him earlier, he was having a whole conversation with the nurse--" He lifted him up to place him back in the cot.

"No, don't. Don't take him away!"

"But darling my arm's going dead! I'm just putting him back down for a little while so you can rest…"

"Fine, but pull that trolley down a bit so I can still see him…" Henry did as he was told, smiling at her enraptured face.

"So, I take it you're pleased then?"

"Pleased? I'm besotted. I never want him out of my sight again--"

"You know you cried and cried when they had to take him away to clean him up?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Really? I have no memory of that…" A pit opened in his stomach.

"Do you remember him being born?" She tried to think.

"Only in fragments. I remember his cries, and that he was all slippery. Apart from that my head's still foggy." Henry crouched over and stroked her head.

"It'll probably come back to you as you recover. The surgeon also did a great job, the incision wasn't that big as he's only a wee thing--"

"It certainly doesn't feel small…" She winced as her mind fell back to the soreness she could feel at the base of her stomach.

"Well, give the drugs a chance to kick in, and if you don't feel better in a little while I'll call the nurse back. So, do we have a name?" A small smile curled her lips.

"Yep. Hal."

"Hal?"

"Yeah, don't you like it?"

"Of course, but why that name?"

"Don't you know your Shakespeare? It's short for Henry. You know, as in Henry IV? And you call yourself an actor—"

"You… you wanna name our boy after me?"

"Well, technically Henry V…" She smiled mischievously but he was too choked to speak. "What I also like is that it rhymes with Kal." Henry snorted.

"Hmm, are you sure you don't want to wait until the morphine wears off?" She gave him a knowing look. "Fine, Hal it is! But if he's named after me then it's only fair he's named after you as well--"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean his middle name should be Oliver. What do you think?"

"My name isn’t Oliver, you little shit!" She went to thwack Henry only for the pain to pull her back to the bed. He smirked.

"Mmm, it’s gunna be a fun couple of weeks… and technically it is! You were named after Oliver—"

"Yes, yes, alright. Hal Oliver, it is. Poor little sod. Well, in for a penny, in a pound, let's use another of your names—"

"What, you mean Dalgliesh?"

"No, you twat, William." Henry snorted but felt pride swelling in his chest once again.

"Hal Oliver William. You know that spells 'How?' He could go by Howie—"

"Yeah, no." He laughed.

"Well 'Hal's' perfect, just like him. And his Mum." Henry leaned closer to kiss her on the forehead. "Well done, darling. I'm so, so proud of you."

"I'm just grateful he's here and doing okay--"

"Me too. Can you believe we're parents? It feels so weird!"

"It does. But in a way, it also feels like he's always been here, as a part of us… I know that doesn't make sense."

"No, I know what you mean. I just couldn't imagine life without him now. We're a family of five! Oh my God, my mum and dad are going to be so thrilled—"

"Have you told them yet?"

"Yeah, though I haven't sent a picture. I wanted to wait until you were awake. Shall I take one of you holding him? That way we can send it to everyone?" She smiled and nodded. But just as he went to pick up their son, the nurse shuffled back into the room wheeling a tray of fresh sandwiches and a bowl of strawberries. "Oh, great, I'm hungry." Ollie giggled and the nurse smiled in her direction.

"Well, I'm glad to see you looking a bit brighter! Just let me quickly check you over again and then I'll get out of your hair. How are you feeling now?"

"Elated," she sighed.

"He is a gorgeous little thing. The spitting image of his father, right down to the chin!"

"It's alright, I still love him…" Henry and the nurse burst out laughing.

"So, have you settled on a name?" They smiled at each other.

"Yes, our son is called Hal Oliver William," her voice broke.

"What is it, darling?!"

"It's nothing, it's just… that's the first time I've ever called him our son." He brushed the tears from his own cheeks and gave her another kiss.

"Aww, that's wonderful! I'm so thrilled for you both. And it looks like you're recovering well, your blood pressure's good too. When you're feeling a little stronger, you can have a walk around and take a shower. All being well, you can all head home in the next day or so. Well, I'll leave you three in peace. Just buzz if you need anything." In a whirl, she was gone. Henry began breaking the sandwiches into smaller pieces so he could feed Ollie directly. Normally she'd have fed herself but she was grateful for the help as her whole body still ached from the procedure.

"There we are, just try and have a little bit for me." He beamed at her, still feeling shocked and relieved it was all over. Henry knew their lives would never be the same, but already parenthood was proving to be so much better than he'd expected. He felt like the three of them could take on the world. "Well, my darling girl, are you happy?" She swallowed her small mouthful and gazed up at Henry.

"The happiest I've ever been in my whole life."

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @livesinfantasyland @jackjanira

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine

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sweet-old-hereafter · 4 months ago

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First of all, thank you to everyone who has hyped up The Primus Game!

Second of all; Chapter One is coming soon, as in within the next few days. Mostly just edits now. So excited to share it! Opening passages below the cut. Here’s a few things you should know:

- This will either be a duology or a trilogy

- Rated M for canon typical violence, may get darker in later installments

- Written in first person progressive, alternating between Noa and Mae’s POV. This is a little experimental, may not be for everyone!

- the prose will also be different between POVs. The apes can speak a little more fluently but they speak a different dialect of english.

- This is a hunger games AU so expect parallels but nothing is 1:1 and later installments will deviate so expect the unexpected! You do not have to be familiar with THG to read.

I think that’s it? I’m going to commit to one chapter a week but I’d like to do more when I have time. Hope you enjoy my contribution to this community!

Chapter One: Noa

I wake to the sound of my father’s coughing.

Moments ago I was falling down a ravine and I could see my hands, stretched out, helpless - as the light above grew smaller, smaller…smaller. An eagle soared before the sun. It called down to me and I braced for the below.

But the cawing shifted to a fit of hacking, and I return to the world with a gasp. Gratitude and guilt war in my mind; this is not the first time I have dreamt of that place between the mountains. For all seasons of my life I have been landing in the ravine, and something horrible waits for me there. I did not - do not - need to see it today.

The rays that scatter the dark are blue like new dawn. It is early. Too early to stir, too late to sleep again. So I flop over and stare at the shifting shadow between my nest and the wall. How I wish I was still so small. To burrow and hide there until this day ends.

I should not be nervous. I am not nervous, for myself. This will be my first reaping and I have taken no rations; my name is in that basket one time. But another, who I may know - who does know me through my father - will have to go and die for Eagle Clan. Or Mining Clan, as the Coast was so gracious to rename us.

Father’s coughing takes time to die down, but it does. Mother’s voice hums through the wood of our home. I cannot hear what she says, but she must be beckoning him back to rest.

I turn and sit up. There is a waterfall in my ears. Has the dream unsettled me so? Maybe just…sat up too quick.

Today, I will face two passages; tomorrow, I will be changed. One has become a celebration of the passage of the other, the reaping. The one forced on us by the Coastals. We once had our own traditions, far apart from theirs. Well, that is what the elders say the elders before them said. I have not known this time.

To be continued

#theprimusgame #noa x mae #nomae #mae x noa #mae kotpota #noa kotpota #nomae fanfiction

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siancore · 6 months ago

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A/N: Written for the @sambuckylibrary SamBucky Summer Bingo 2024 Mission Card – Square Fill: Redwing

Summary: A glimpse into Sam and Bucky's life and the role Redwing played in bringing them together.

Content Warnings: N/A

Sleeping had not always come easy for Bucky, even before everything that happened to him had happened. However, in recent times, since he and Sam had begun sleeping together, that had changed. Bucky’s nightmares were few and far between, and he was actually sleeping in.

Sam, on the other hand, had always been an early riser. As soon as they was old enough, his daddy had him, Sarah, and Gideon working down on the docks. During high school, his time spent on the football team meant early morning training sessions. He was accustomed to being up at the crack of dawn and running on very little sleep. While his nightmares had become less frequent, he still liked to get up early. Enjoyed his morning runs. Found it easy to focus when the world around him was quiet.

It had been a long time since he had shared his space with someone else. A long time since he had shared his bed with another. He had to admit it was pleasant returning from his run and finding Bucky still asleep. The other man looked so peaceful and serene in slumber. He looked younger; he looked lighter.

Sam found it relaxing to be in Bucky’s presence while he slept. He would often sit at the table in his quarters at the new Avengers Compound and tinker with Redwing while Bucky slept. It was one of the things that brought Sam immense pleasure and contentment. The soft snoring from Bucky was actually calming as Sam worked on his drone. He figured it had a lot to do with the fact that Bucky felt safe sleeping with Sam, and that Sam felt assurance that Bucky was safe.

Sam heard a particularly loud snore from Bucky before he mumbled something in his sleep that sounded a lot like Sammy. Sam smiled to himself and continued to read the diagnostics outputs from Redwing. He missed his old robot more than he would freely admit, but Redwing 2.0 was nothing short of amazing. Shuri – and Bucky – had really outdone themselves. The design was sleek and sturdy. The software was responsive to Sam’s biometrics and near impossible to hack. He would not have to worry about the likes of Walker tracking him again. The technology blew Sam’s mind. The gesture from Bucky did as well.

See, Sam thought Bucky really hated Redwing. Complained about him non-stop whenever they went on missions together early in their working partnership. Always had some comment or another about how Sam shouldn’t solely rely on intel from the AI. How the robot was annoying. Even stooping to make a slick remark about wanting to break Redwing when one of the Flag Smashers did.

His apology about it later annoyed Sam because he thought, in that moment, that Bucky didn’t mean it; knew Bucky didn’t mean it. But then Bucky pulled a favor with the Wakandans and got Sam a new suit that came with Redwing 2.0, and Sam thought that was kind of sweet. Not the pressure about Sam picking up the shield, but the sentiment behind replacing his beloved drone.

It was the little things like that that had endeared Bucky to Sam. That had made Sam realize that his partner slash co-worker was actually thinking of him and what he needed when said co-worker did not need to be thinking of Sam at all. It may not have looked like a huge gesture to those outside of their sphere, but it meant a lot to Sam. Bucky, who did not trust Redwing or even like Redwing, had noticed that the robot was important to Sam.

Sam smiled to himself as he remembered asking Bucky about it later, in the aftermath of everything that had transpired, and the other man simply shrugged and said, “Redwing makes you happy. You deserve to be happy. I – uh, I wanted to make you happy. I want to make you happy.”

It was in that moment that the pair had shared their first kiss. Sam said Bucky should thank Redwing; Bucky, the smitten fool, happily obliged (though he would deny it if asked).

“Hey,” came Bucky’s sleepy voice, drawing Sam from his thoughts. “Good morning, Gorgeous.”

“Morning, Baby,” Sam replied with a smile, glancing over at Bucky as he stretched out and then leaned up on his elbow.

“What time is it? Whatcha doin’?”

“Still early,” Sam answered. “And I’m just doing a diagnostics check on my baby.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and said, “I thought I was your ‘baby’.”

“A man can have more than one ‘baby’, Buck,” he replied with a laugh. “I kissed you better after our last mission, gotta do the same for Red.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Bucky as he watched Sam work.

“Don’t be jealous of Redwing now,” Sam teased. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“I am not jealous of that thing, Sam.”

“You didn’t like original Redwing either,” Sam reminds him.

Bucky climbed from the bed and ambled over to where Sam was sitting. He placed a kiss to the top of Sam’s head and then ran his hands up and down Sam’s arms before resting them on Sam’s shoulders. He began to massage Sam as he monitored the readings on the device hooked up to his drone.

“I didn’t trust Redwing then,” said Bucky as he rubbed Sam’s neck, kissed his head once more, and then took up a seat beside him. “Thought you were too much of a thrill-seeker and needed more than something that looked like a kid’s toy to keep you safe.”

“Aww,” said Sam as he reached over and caressed Bucky’s face. “And you wanted that to be you, uh?”

“Absolutely. I can’t be hacked like tech can. Well, not anymore,” said Bucky with a straight face.

“Lord help me you have one morbid sense of humor,” said Sam as he took Bucky’s hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed his knuckles. “Ya know, you could have just admitted you liked me instead of talkin’ shit about Red.”

“What, and miss out on all the bickering between us?” he asked with a crooked smile. “Not a chance.”

Sam threw his head back and laughed. He was so completely and utterly happy with where they were at in life; so smitten with Bucky; so thankful for it all.

He leaned in and kissed Bucky, morning breath and all, before saying, “Thank you.”

Bucky pecked at Sam’s lips twice more and asked, “For what?”

“For replacing Redwing. For being there for me. For making me happy.”

“You never have to thank me,” said Bucky as he caressed Sam’s face and pressed their brows together. “If that robot bird makes you happy, then I’m gonna make sure you have it. It’s the least I could do.”

“You make me happy,” said Sam with a smile.

Bucky kissed Sam’s forehead and said, “You make me happy, too.”

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sbsummer2024

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archduchessofnowhere · 1 year ago

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Archduchess Marie Valerie's journal entry on the death of her mother Empress Elisabeth of Austria, in 1898 (written on 21 September):

10 September. In the evening at 7.30 o'clock I returned with Maria from a tour of our poor… souper… then went with the three grown-ups to the chapel for evening prayer. Maria came with me, I did not pay much attention to her, did not notice her disturbed expression. I was no more devout than usual… Coming out into the corridor, while the children ran into their room, Maria asked me to come into my writing room, she had something to tell me. I was still thinking only of a small house cross, but when I looked at her, my heart stood still. “The Archduke?” “No — Her Majesty.” I don't know whether I asked further questions or whether I immediately said the word “dead”? whether she told me right there in the corridor or already in the room: “Murdered by an Italian anarchist — in the hotel in Geneva.” I don't know. My hand still trembles when I think back to that hour… Remorse for having returned her great love so badly, and above all… more and more the unspeakable pity for him, the poor, old, sorrowful and grief-stricken father, and the probably also futile question of whether it was not too much for a poor human heart? We were on our knees, Maria and I — in the room and in the chapel. Then I sent a telegram to Franz [Archduke of Austria, Valerie's husband]. And to Papa [Emperor Franz Josef I], “I'll come to you tomorrow morning at half past six.” He himself had telegraphed to Maria that she should “teach me in a good way”. I went in to see the children. Ella [Elisabeth, Valerie's eldest child] was not quite in bed yet … When I kissed and shook her, hardly knowing what I was doing, telling her softly: “She knows, that dear Grandmama has died,” she began to cry softly, as if she understood. God bless the good child! The boys were already in bed. Hedwig [Valerie's second daughter] was already asleep. From one room to the other and with Maria out into the quiet starry night. — I lay down too, but sleep was out of the question. At half past one we drove away, Maria and I … arrived in Penzing at half past six in the morning. How the morning dawned over the Vienna Woods, which she loved so much, and how unspeakable fear shook me before seeing Papa again, those are hours that one is amazed to have survived. Papa stood at the foot of the big staircase at Schönbrunn and we fell into each other's arms. That was the first time he was able to cry, he told me later. But he was still stunned then, and soon afterwards he was calm again, as he had been after Rudolf's death. We went to Sunday mass together, and then I was allowed to spend that first day with him almost without interruption, sitting next to his desk while he worked as usual, reading with him the more detailed news coming from Geneva, helping him to receive the condolence visits of the family members… Prime Minister Thun, who cried like a child — a good feeling that Papa has such servants around him. The unfortunate person who had to bring Papa the first message from Vienna to Schönbrunn was Adjutant General Count Paar with the still undetermined telegram from Irma Sztáray [Empress Elisabeth's lady-in-waiting]; “Her Majesty the Empress seriously wounded”, which was very soon followed by the second: “Her Majesty the Empress just died at 2 o'clock in the Hotel Beaurivage.” Papa seems to have immediately thought of an assassination, although he repeatedly said: “How can one assassinate a woman who has never harmed anyone?” Papa's intention to leave for Geneva immediately was thwarted by the second telegram.

(Translation by DeepL, keep in mind that in a machine translation a lot of nuances may/did got lost)

#i can't find who maria is - but probably someone from valerie's household #archduchess marie valerie of austria #empress elisabeth of austria #franz josef i of austria #elisabeth franziska of austria countess of waldburg-zeil-hohenems #on this day in history

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babydin · 2 years ago

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Can I have a fic written base on this song (the big moon - wide eyes) I think it be good as a Joel miller or may be just Pedro?

(I never ask for any before so I hope I did right)

https://youtu.be/EY2RaPeI18A

- Joel Miller x reader (no pronouns or gendered pet names) - 18+, minors DNI (fairly PG though) - Mild violence and lots of cursing - 885 words - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! - A/N: I dont know why, this is the first thing that came to mind when I heard the song! I hope you like it. Thank you for your request!!

You can feel his eyes on you as you chop hunks of wood for a fire. You half expect him to walk over and tell you that you’re doing it wrong somehow; he’s such a grumpy piece of shit and you don’t know how you wound up at the end of the world with someone so unpleasant. You wipe your brow and look up at him and he immediately looks away like he doesn’t want to be caught staring and continues loading his rifle. Later that night around the fire you eat beans out of a tin bowl and you feel his eyes on you again. The problem is he doesn’t talk much, but usually if he had a problem he’d let you know. Your eyes flick up and his glance down at the same time, your head shakes and you roll your eyes. When the fire dies down you both slip inside the tent, and inside the two-man sleeping bag and try to sleep back-to-back. You wake up to scratching on the tent door, then the zip hastily starts to open with a struggle. You open your eyes and distinctly feel Joel’s warm body still pressed up against you. Your body fights to sit up against the sleeping bag, bloodied fingers pry inside the tent and the figure of a body with a head like a bouquet of flora is cast from the dawn sun onto the tent from the outside. “Joel!” you yell his name, knowing he is hard of hearing, and with him being dead weight beside you, you’re struggling to move inside the sleeping bag. Joel opens his eyes, he sees the shadow before he sees you and he doesn’t have time to brush the sleep from his face. He kicks you both out of the sleeping bag with booted feet and grabs his knife from a holster on his belt and he slices straight through the fabric of the tent, pushing you out first before tearing out behind you. You know you should be quiet, but you yell and pick up a sizable branch to defend yourself with as the infected tumbles towards you. It flinches and lets out a blood-curdling wail as Joel shoots at it and catches it in the shoulder, cursing under his breath like that wasn’t what he was aiming for. “Run!” Joel orders you. “The knife!” You bark back. He had revoked your gun privileges after you had almost shot him in the foot in a blind panic the last time you had run into an infected. This one was getting closer to Joel and his hands were unsteady. “Just go, get back to Tommy.” “Your knife, Joel! Joel!!” He tossed it across the ground and you immediately bent to catch it as it slid past you, keeping your eyes fixed on the infected as it got closer to Joel. You take the blade by it’s handle and drive the pointy end directly into the top of the monster’s head with a scream. It halts and buys Joel enough time to shoot at it again, this time he doesn’t miss. The both of you pant and look at each other with wide eyes, full of adrenaline and panic all at once. “That was dumb.” Joel scolded, moving from his spot to gather what he could from the camp so you could start moving. “What the fuck is your problem?” You snap breathlessly, “You’ve been shitty with me for three fuckin’ days, your tone is weird–” “It’s just my voice.” “--- you keep staring at me.” “I don’t stare.” “You’re staring at me, Joel.”

Joel turned around to face you again; he hadn’t heard you moving closer to him and the way you were right in his face made him take a step back. He looked at you in a way he had never looked at you before, with a humility you’d never seen from him before. He looked at you and he bunched your shirt in his fist and before you could say anything else he tugged you towards him and planted your lips on his. It didn’t feel like a ‘we just survived a thing’ kiss, it felt like an ‘I’ve been waiting a long time to do this’ kiss; you had never thought about Joel’s lips, but if you did you would’ve imagined them to be rough, and slightly dry, you’d have expected his unshaved face to be prickly and uncomfortable but his lips were smooth and his facial hair was soft. He kissed you like you were the only thing he was surviving for, and truth be told that was a lot of pressure but neither of you had much else besides each other.

When he pulled away to take a breath he did something else you’d never seen him do before… he smiled. “Holy shit, is that– is that a smile?” “Shut the fuck up.” he stepped away and let out a soft laugh, the smile brightening a little but he ducked his head to try and hide the fact. “Oh, and you have teeth?” you teased, “Well fuck, Joel.”

You didn’t want to tease him any more than you already had, but he was a lot more chatty the rest of the journey, and truthfully you were thankful for the company.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #( requests: babydin )#( requests: joel miller )#( joel miller: babydin )

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bonefall · 2 years ago

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Herb Guide for Warrior Cats: Epilepsy

Requested by an Anon!

A guide to providing treatment to a Warrior Cat OC with epilepsy. Still requires a bit of a leap in logic as nothing can replace our friend phenobarbital, BUT, if you would like herbs and strategies for managing a Warrior’s epilepsy, this guide is for you.

I researched herbs historically used for epilepsy, chose plants growing wild in a ‘common’ clan biome (temperate Europe and North America), and removed things that a cat could not use. Because of the nature of epilepsy, I also delved into some other treatments and strategies your medics can use!

So, keep in mind, this guide is written for a Clan doctor treating an epileptic cat. NOT from the perspective of a patient who has it.

I would recommend doing extra research into first-hand accounts of what it’s like to live with epilepsy when creating your patient character.

Disclaimer Time! I tried to filter out as much ‘quackery’ as possible, but remember that I am not a vet nor do I have formal training in pharmacognacy. You are also not a vet. This is for fake battle cats. LOOK AT ME. YOU WILL NOT USE THIS ON YOURSELF OR A REAL ANIMAL.

Below the cut is:

What is epilepsy?

Diagnostics

Non-herbal treatments

Managing the different types of seizures

Preventative herbs

What is epilepsy?

‘Epilepsy‘ is the broad term for dozens of different disorders, resulting in recurring epileptic seizures. A warrior could be born with it, develop it over time, or get it after recovering from brain injury (stroke, infection, head trauma, etc).

Epilepsy also varies wildly, and can be so mild it’s hard to detect, or so severe it could put the cat in too much danger to do warrior duties at all. For most cases, however, the warrior would still be able to do normal tasks* as long as they don’t hunt or patrol alone.

* = Head injury and stress from fighting can worsen epilepsy. Going on battle patrols is a risk the warrior must be made aware of.

Diagnostics

So before anything else, your medic will want to identify what triggers the seizures, if anything. There isn’t always an identifiable trigger such as a flashing light/quickly moving object, but seizures can be made worse by stress, lack of sleep, or hunger. Taking note of the warrior’s state preceding a seizure would be extremely helpful for treatment.

Does Wheatwhisker seem to have more seizures when she’s doing certain activities? When she has one, did she sleep well the night before? What has she been eating lately? She may be able to feel it coming-- including sudden intense emotion, an oncoming headache, hot or cold sensations, so on.

Like dogs, cats can detect oncoming seizures. A good medicine cat would take note of all the behavior before its onset to reduce their frequency.

NON-herbal treatments

Once correlation and causes have been identified, the medicine cat should have some lifestyle changes to suggest.

For example, Wheatwhisker has more seizures when she is tired, so the medic prevents her from going on dawn patrol. They’re sometimes triggered by the fluttering of bird wings, so she’s been told to hunt small mammals instead.

A change in diet can also reduce the frequency of seizures. Fatty foods specifically, such as red meat, eggs, and large fish. Trout and carp would be the two easiest* things for a warrior to hunt on a regular basis-- though if the given Clan can’t catch those, it may be worth it to consider trade with another group.

* = If your warriors can cook with fire, fat drippings can be cooked back into the epileptic warrior’s meals. This would make the special diet much easier to prepare than always catching specific prey.

Managing the Different Types of Seizures

Generally there are three types of seizures- ones localized to a specific body part, ones that may seem like “daydreaming”, and ones that cause the well-known convulsions. Less severe seizures are more common.

Seizures do not usually cause pain on their own, except for fatigue in the muscle or headaches. Injury is sometimes caused by external forces, such as slamming against something during a convulsion, falls, tongue biting, or hitting sharp objects.

After any seizure, nausea or a headache may develop-- feverfew will soothe headaches, mallow or fennel will soothe stomachaches. Even if the Epileptic warrior does not take regular medication, the cannabis and valerian root mentioned in the ‘preventative herbs‘ section can be taken on occasion to help the warrior relax post-seizure.

-Localized

One part of the body (leg, head) seizes or convulses. Can usually be self-managed by the warrior, loss of conscious is uncommon. Rest in a quiet area would be the best treatment afterwards. If the muscle fatigue is bad, kneading the limb will help.

-Daydream

The warrior will seem suddenly ‘absent,‘ like they’ve left their body, for typically less than 15 seconds. They may simply wobble and stare ahead (even pausing mid-sentence), or seem to ‘faint‘ and fall over, but in any case they will not remember the seizure. Prevent them from falling on something dangerous, if this seems likely.

In many cases the warrior will just be able to keep going about their day in a few minutes, or even immediately. If not, just like before, let them rest in a quiet area.

-Convulsions

A panicked cat may make convulsions worse by fearfully running around as a seizure starts-- if a warrior MUST be prevented from doing this, it’s VERY important that they are not completely pinned or restrained. JUST kept laying down. Do NOT attempt to stop the convulsions themselves.

Such a circumstance will be extremely rare in a Warrior Cat setting, where the cats are capable of reasoning like a human. There may be a situation where an epileptic cat needs to be brought out of harm’s way-- that’s fine.

Clear the area of anything sharp or hard that the convulsing warrior could hurt themselves on, like stones, or brambles. Roll them onto their side, if they aren’t already. Lastly, cushion their head with something soft, like moss, if possible.

After the seizure is over, the warrior will probably be disoriented and confused. Don’t overwhelm them or offer food or water until they’re fully alert again. Once they do, they might have partial paralysis, nausea, muscle soreness, a bitten tongue, or any variety of symptoms. Just like before, bring them to a quiet area to rest.

If your warriors wear restrictive accessories, such as belts or collars, the medicine cat will remove or loosen them during a seizure if possible.

-what NOT to do

There’s some harmful ideas out there you may have encountered, so here’s some things to keep in mind your medics would NOT do to treat a cat having convulsions:

They would NOT pin them down (this even happened in the books once yikes) Why: This could cause injury to both the restrained, and the restrainer.

They would NOT put anything in their mouth Why: Could damage their teeth or jaw, it does not prevent them from biting their tongue. (also; while tongue biting is common, it is a total myth that an epileptic will choke on/swallow it)

They would NOT start firing out questions as soon as the seizure is over Why: The warrior will likely be disoriented, and not in a state to answer properly. Give them a minute.

Preventative Herbs

Once a seizure is happening, it will have to play out. Warrior cats do not have the medical capability to stop one once started. The anticonvulsant herbs here will help to reduce the frequency and severity of seizures... but they can’t eliminate them entirely.

Anticonvulsants will need to be taken on a regular basis. Stopping these suddenly will cause dangerous side effects; if the warrior’s epilepsy isn’t severe, or herbs are a scarcity for your Clan, it may not be the best choice to medicate them.

Chamomile

Common, and naturalized all over the world. In high doses, this herb will poison a cat. Careful preparation is required to make it safe for the epileptic warrior-- it needs to be steeped in water, like tea*. The leaves should not be eaten.

* = If your cats don’t have fire to brew tea, that’s fine, it can be soaked cold.

This herb also has a side effect of drowsiness. It may make the warrior lethargic and less responsive.

Cannabis

Cannabis is a golden herb for a thousand reasons, it can be made into rope, paper, cloth, oil... but, the thing of note here is CBD oil. Cannabis grows wild all over the world, but ESPECIALLY in North America-based Clans (where it’s called Ditchweed)

Ditchweed has high CBD content, and low THC content. This makes it safe for your warriors (and also prevents them from getting high). Your cats will NOT smoke it, which will damage their sensitive respiratory systems, they will eat it like a standard herb.

Because cannabis is a depressant, this treatment is best for warriors not involved in active tasks. Epileptic warriors that prefer calm, camp-related activities will use this herb. Den-building, tunnel digging, helping the medics, crafting if your Clan makes accessories, so on.

Valerian Root

Known as a sleep aid in humans, Valerian has VERY interesting effects on cats; this is the only Epilepsy treatment that can avoid lethargy entirely. However, in contrast to cannabis, valerian will mostly be found in Europe-based Clans.

(with both, however, it is possible to find each in the other continent.)

Valerian Root has catnip-like effects, perking a warrior up and often filling them with energy. There are some cats for whom this herb will act like cannabis, calming them down, but if there’s a choice, the Epileptic warriors who enjoy active tasks will prefer this herb. Hunting, fighting, patrolling, so on.

#If you know something about epilepsy that I missed please let me know!#I'll add it right away #Especially if you have epilepsy or help someone else manage it #I don't have anyone epileptic in my life so I just tried to do good research #I also tried to boil it down to the simplest terms possible with the idea it's a practical OC writing guide in mind #So that's the reason I didn't explain cluster seizures or what a grand mal is; or primary vs #-secondary epilepsy. I tried to avoid putting too many terms into it.#Focused on treatment alone #Clan Culture #Clan Herbs #Warrior cats #Herb guide #Seizures #Epilepsy

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maddithefangirl · 2 years ago

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A Chance With A Stranger (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: poorly written SMUT (Readers 18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: The innkeeper accidentally booked you and a certain Shadowsinger to the same room… with no other available rooms… with only one bed.

a/n: This is my first time writing anything sexy/smutty so I hope you enjoy it! I would love to hear what y’all actually think of this as I worked really hard on it. Thanks all <3 xoxo

You could not believe the predicament you have been put in.

You were on your way to your childhood best friend’s wedding in the Illyrian Steppes when you stopped at a nearby inn. It was Spring so the snow had just stopped, but that did not stop the bone-chilling cold that racked your bones. The warmth of the inn was a very welcome reprieve from the cold as you stepped into its warm embrace. There were so many people you couldn’t believe that your friend knew so many people. By the look of it the inn must have been fully booked.

You made your way to check-in desk along with several other people including some with wings. You were used to people with wings as you were from the Dawn Court. But the wings up here were bigger, smoother and a lot more attractive to look at.

As you wait in line you admire the quaint atmosphere of the place and take in the slight scent of snow and eucalyptus. Not exactly a warm scent, but it was still welcoming. Your turn in line came up pretty quickly as you’re greeted by a tall, dark skinned male with dark hair, “good evening, welcome to the Greenston Inn. May I get your name?” You return with a smile and a small, “hello.” Then take a moment before stating your name. As he checks the book you take in a long, deep breath finally clearing your mind after travel. “Huh,” you hear him mutter as he keeps looking back and forth over the same two lines, “I’m sorry ma’am but there is a slight issue with your reservation. It looks like we have accidentally double booked your room for the night with the man standing over there at the bar with the wings.” You could not believe it.

He called over the man you had been double booked with to explain the situation, “So, it looks like you were accidentally double booked in the King Single room. I’m sorry to say that we have no other availability in the inn, but you are more than welcome to keep the room.” As you listen you finally take a look at the stranger, and he is absolutely breathtaking. His dark hair was short and the perfect amount of messy. His tanned skin with hints of tattoos poking out the top of his collar were about as mouthwatering as his large arms. You had never seen someone so beautiful in your entire life. “Well, I have nowhere else to go so I’ll definitely take the room, and I don’t mind sharing,” you said to both males with a slight blush on your face. The stranger gave a slight smile and nodded, “If it’s okay I also need the room so sharing would be great.” Okay, you knew you offered but you expected him to decline! Well this should be interesting…

You make your way up to the room slowly carrying your heavy luggage, the stranger following close behind. By the time you both reach the room and head inside, you are beat. Exhausted from your day of travel you drop your bags and flop onto the bed, just barely able to hear the door close on the other side of the room, “Well, hi, my name is Azriel, what’s yours?” Your eyes shoot open and you sit up, “Um, Y/N,” you reply quickly. You take a look around the room for the first time. There’s an armchair in the corner made to accommodate wings with a faux plant next to it, and by the bed is an ensuite bathroom with a large bathtub and two sinks.

The bed you were on would be big enough for at least three fae, but an Illyrian? Not sure how you both will fit. Wait, why am I assuming that we are sharing the bed? “Hi Y/N, well how do we want to do this? I can sleep in the armchair no problem, I only need this room for one night,” he says just loud enough for you to hear. Everything about him seems to be soft except for his appearance. One night… You could handle one night. “Okay well I know that the chair will be so uncomfortable… we could maybe share the bed and build a pillow fort between us?” You said back. Silence filled the room and only in that moment did you see shadows coming off his form and slowly made their way to you. You mouth gaped not scared, but slightly concerned. That was definitely something you had never seen before. He chuckled and the shadows came rolling back behind him, “Sounds good to me as long as you are completely sure.” You smiled at that. He must’ve been the most respectful male you had ever met.

After that he left the room until after dinner, and you were thankful for the peace and quiet. Dinner was as you expected, but the whole time all you kept thinking about was a nice, warm bath. When you made it back to the room the bath was already running. Great. You decided to take out your book and start reading to pass the time.

The book was not enough of a distraction to take away the thoughts of how that attractive male was naked so close to where you sit now. Gods the things you would let him do to you. Your cheeks heated, and the thoughts kept spiraling until you hear the drain. That is enough to stop those thoughts and put your attention back on your book. The heat from your cheeks work down to your core. You make yourself look busy as you hear the door to the bathroom open. The male comes out with a towel low on his hips with water droplets still visible on his sculpted, tattooed chest. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear you come back. Let me go change and then the bathroom is all yours for the night,” he said in a hurried tone. You moved your book in front of face peaking over the top. You could not take your eyes off of him as he walked around the room retreating back to the bathroom. Those thoughts returned as his back muscles glistened in the lamp light of the room. Once he reaches the bathroom, you get up and get your things ready for your bathing time.

---

The water heats you to your bones as you relax sinking deeper into the tub. Your thoughts go back to the Illyrian male that is not far from you outside the door. The way his muscles were on show for you to see for only a short time… that was magical. That thought goes straight to your core as a blush creep onto your entire face. I could be quiet… That thought excites you. Your fingers go under the water sliding down your body until you reach your clit. You put your other hand over your mouth as your breath hitches. Fuck. The water moves slightly as you begin to circle your fingers causing senses of pleasure to spread throughout your body. The pleasure is numbing to the other senses. So much so that you just about jump out of your skin when you hear Azriel drop something on the other side of the door, “Sorry!” Well that ruined the moment.

The water has long since grown cold as you step out to apply your creams and brush your teeth. There’s a robe on the back of the door you put on as you do your routine. When you exit the bathing room, you’re in a large t shirt and shorts as you put your things back into your bag. You take him in with his glasses low on his nose. He’s also reading as you were before propped up in bed with a pillow barrier already made. Azriel looks up at you with a light smile on his face, “I hope this barricade is good enough for you, I didn’t know how many pillows you needed to sleep with.” He only had one pillow behind him as he left you two to sleep with. Was he the most perfect male you had ever met? Pretty and thoughtful.

Sleep did not meet you when you reached the bed. Azriel seemed to find it easily, but you tossed and turned. When moving your foot grazed his leg and a bolt of electricity jolted up your body. Cauldron fuck. You took slow, steady breaths as you finally let sleep overtake you.

When you woke up you didn’t recognize where you were. You remembered there being a barricade but that must’ve been long forgotten as you were skin to skin with the handsome male next to you. The thought did not freak you out as much as seeing a wing flopped overtop you and something hard pressed against your ass. Damn. You didn’t know how to move without making things worse. But would that really be a bad thing? You shake your head trying to rid the dirty thoughts from your mind, but they wouldn’t go away, so you played into them slightly moving your ass slowly to see how he reacted. If his wingspan was any proof of how endowed he was, you were in for the morning of your life.

You had always heard that Illyrian’s wings were the most sensitive part of them, but you also heard that you should never touch their wings without permission. Fuck, what am I doing? This is a stranger! You must be going crazy. His cock hardens as he pulls you closer to him. So many things were swirling through your mind, but the overwhelming one was that you wanted him. Badly. So, you reach your hand back and stroke his cock through his sweatpants.

His breath catches and you freeze.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he whispered into your ear. Now that he’s awake you turn around to look at him, still in his arms, “are you sure?” You asked back, wariness in your eyes. His cock twitches in your hand in response. You start stroking him again, but that wasn’t enough, so you find the waistband of his sweatpants and delve underneath. Under his underwear, you find his long, hard cock. Your thumb traces over the head as he hisses. You chuckle and begin stroking him again. His hips jut up and he grabs your face with a hand, leading it up to look him in the eyes. He brings your face to his in a long kiss. This was heaven you were sure of that. Azriel uses both hands and lifts you so that you’re sitting in his lap, hand still on his cock. He rids you of your shirt and takes in your pert nipples. Now he was in heaven. He takes one in his mouth and palms the other. His mouth makes you gasp in pleasure as he relentlessly sucks and nibbles at the nipple. You had no idea that pleasure like this could feel so good as it reverberates down to your core. His thumb rubs over the other nipple making it harden. He removes his mouth and switches to the other, sucking and licking the hard nipple making you moan loudly. Cauldron boil me.

Your hand moves over him in lazy strokes getting lost in your own pleasure as he releases from your breast. You feel your wetness soak into his sweatpants. A blush creeps onto your face as embarrassment overtakes you. He lifts your chin to look at him again, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, angel.” He kisses you long and hard. You send him a small smile in return. He takes the lead now and moves your underwear to the side and pulls off his pants to let his cock free. Holy shit he’s huge. “Angel, hop on,” he whispers in your ear, nibbling slightly.

You give him a concerned look but ultimately do as you’re told and sink onto his long cock. A moan slips out of you as you bottom out. His hands grip your waist and start moving you slowly. The feeling is euphoric when you help and pick up the pace. The moans from you both fill up the room. He moves one of his hands to your breasts as they bounce with each stroke. A pinch of your nipple makes you stutter in your movements, but Azriel kept up the pace grabbing down on your hips again. You move your hand to your clit circling as fast as you can stand it getting close to the edge.

You move your hips in sync with his thrusts when he surprises you and flips you to where he is now on top. “Did you really think I’d let you take control, Angel?” he says just loud enough to hear over your moans. He rips off what little underwear you had left and picks up the pace, rocking into you as your moans turn into screams. Your legs are trembling and shaking as you inch closer to your release. “I want you to come all over my cock, Sweetheart, and I will fill you up in return,” he says, coming close to his edge as well. You feel the knot in your core shatter as your high washes over you. He moans in your ear, filling you up with his hot seed as he falls on top of you. His seed is spilling out of you onto the sheets, but you don’t care because you just had the best sex of your entire life. Wait. What the absolute fuck did you just do?

You sit up on your elbows and look at the male laying on you. He was still the most attractive male you had ever seen, but there was no way this was going to work. But as you look at his jet-black hair, you find something that pulls him to you. “Hey, if you’re not doing anything later would you like to go with me to a wedding?” You whispered, hoping he did not hear what a bold statement you just put forth. “Yeah, I’d like that, Y/N,” he replied with a smile.

#maddithefangirl #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar x reader #azriel smut #poorly written smut #smut

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tryingtodotheright-thing · 5 months ago

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Hello, Sunset - 11

AN: This chapter is long overdue, I'm sorry for the long wait. A lot has happened in my personal and work life and I've just not been in the head space to write. Writing is my escape and right now I need it so thank you to everyone who reads this. PAIRING: Seungcheol x fem!reader GENRE: exes to lovers, idol verse, angst WORD COUNT: 5,111 WARNINGS: reader has anxiety and depression, swearing, mentions of alcohol Text in blue is spoken/written in Korean. PREVIOUS / NEXT

The seatbelt sign glared at her as the plane began its descent. She moved her seat upright again and buckled the straps together. Eyes closed again and grasping the seat handles tightly, Y/N tried her best to ignore the nervousness that brushed over her. She waited for the touchdown, anticipating the brunt force of the aircraft’s wheels touching the tarmac and wondering why this part of the journey always felt the longest. She could forget that she was in a metal box in mid-air for hours, sleeping and eating without care, but as soon as it came to the climax of the journey, the fear returned in twofold. The aircraft shook violently for a few seconds, stuttered in its movements before it slowly began to glide to a stop. The captain’s announcement rang through the plane and Y/N took this as a sign to turn her phone back on. She noticed Emma doing the same next to her.

As the device in her hand came back to life, it began to buzz with notifications. Seeing Seungcheol’s name in the list of people who had contacted her in the four hours spent offline brought back the butterflies she thought she would never experience again. She still couldn’t decide if the events of last night were real or not. Was it a dream or would it become a nightmare? Only time would tell. It would be naive of her to not feel apprehensive about giving Seungcheol a second chance. Just because she forgave doesn’t mean that she forgot. She’d told him that last night as they hid away in her hotel room. They held hands with her head on his shoulder, admired the city view from the sofa and watched the night give way to dawn then sunrise.

It’s easier to build a new relationship than fix one that was splintered. It wasn’t to say that they would fail before they even started but to give them both a reality check. It meant learning to love each other all over again, they were different people from when they had first met after all. It meant moving slowly, taking one step at a time to grow the trust that had eroded. It meant patience, because there will be arguments, probably more than the first time around. It meant reassurance, showering each other with love to drown the doubts that were sure to crop up. Until they felt secure in themselves and in each other, until they truly could read each other’s hearts, until their love became a strength that only grew with each obstacle. Let’s work hard for it together, Y/N had said as she handed back the box with two rings, one that told of their past and one that spoke of a future. Give them back to me when we can take pride in our love, she had said.

Seungcheol

Thank you.