#how beautiful must the Lord have made it in the beginning

[babsbabbles]

Modern atheistic scientists: There was nothing and then there was. The universe is younger than we thought actually. Life is so unlikely to have evolved, it is considered an impossible occurance. The reason we should preserve life and biodiversity is because every living thing has inherent value simply by being alive. Humanity may be more unique than we expected.

Bible-believing christians:

[helyft]

Shenbro au where, Shen Yuan wakes up inside the body of the scum villain's little brother. Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan join the Qing Jing peak togather. Shen Jiu is way more popular than SY, even if it's not really a good thing. SY doesn't really leave the peak unless he must, so not many people know that SJ has a brother, let alone one who is a fucking saint.

After fixing and healing sqq like bob the builder, (transmigrator) SY is finally sure that SQQ isn't gonna fuck up his future even if he is left to his own device. But that doesn't mean SY will leave his big bro though, nope, He is just gonna go on his own little adventures while SJ is doing what-head-disiple-usually-do. Just temporarily yeah

It takes a lot to convince SJ, but with the help of YQY and their Shizun, SY manages to leave after promising SJ that he'll come back more often than not. It's not like he is planning on leaving forever, he will be back in time for the original to begin! Just to make sure his brother doesn't dig his own grave.

it's mighty fun, seeing monsters he had only ever read about with his own eyes, observing the wild life and noting down his adventures, if he didn't have SJ waiting for him back in the sect, SY might have just settled as a rogue cultivator.

SY is curious about how people in this day and age live. When he first came to this world, he was too busy trying to not die and keep his brother from pissing people off left and right. Now that SJ has calmed down a bit (he is still a little bitch but a likeable bitch atleast.) and canon is still a few years away, it's definitely the right time to enjoy the mundane activities and savoury street food!

But you know who else also leaves the sect to hunt down monsters for indefinite amount of time?

SY totally doesn't expect to run into future Bai Zhan lord while out in the wild (Wellll, not that he knows this is LQQ. ) but he is so glad he did! Otherwise he would have been mauled alive by a poisonous-clawed bear!

The amount of times they coincidentally meet eachother is actually suspicious. But SY doesn't mind. Who would mind being saved by a heavenly beauty (even if it's a man)? Sure, this guy might not talk alot, stare at him like he has grown another head and leave instantly after killing the beast that was about to attack SY, he sure is a eye-candy!

They get close soon enough. It can't be helped since they run into eachother every other week. SY even managed to fish out his surname! Which happens to be the same as Liu Mingyan's!

Liu-gongzi is actually nicer than he looks, turns out the reason he looked at SY as if he had grown a second head isn't because he dislikes him but because he looks identical to an unsavoury person Liu-gongzi knows!

SY learned quite a bit about him, like how he is part of a sect, how he only goes back to his sect once a month to show his face to his shizun, and how he even has a little sister. Liu-gongzi's company is a delight to have! He even lets SY observe a beast before killing it.

(if there is a slight voice whispering in the back of his head about the similarities Liu-gongzi has to a certain war god, he ignores it)

They don't really stick together, SY isn't really here to fight fight and fight, he is here to learn about the behind the scenes of PIDW, and enjoy his life the fullest before canon inevitably comes. Liu-gongzi on the other hand likes to mindlessly charge into battle. SY suspects that his head is somewhat empty other than thoughts about brawling with monsters.

Spending time with Liu-gongzi is...fun. It feels like he has finally made a friend who isn't mentioned by the original story. He is a little sad inside everytime they have to go their own way but somehow, they end up meeting always so he can just think that they are meant to be together right? In a platonic way ofc.

Time passes by in a flash, and before SY realises it, Canon is already looming over.

It's about time he heads back to Cang Qiong.

(and if he catches sight of a very, very familiar man, who has become even more beautiful since the last time SY saw him, wellll, that's a sorry for another day.)

[lady-ashfade]

Hi I would like a slice of blueberry pie with Alicent Hightower please? ✨

Sworn To Me

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Yandere!Alicent HighTower x Fem!Reader

Bakery Event is closed

╰･ﾟ✧☽ summary: the queen is caught between the whispers of her favorite lady in waiting.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 969

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: Yandere behaviors, Possessive, Crispy cole is not with her, This set before Viserys dies, I struggled with this one, manipulation, me loving women. 

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚ 🥧 ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

“Excuse me,” you mumbled and moved around the crowded hall, a pair of chatting ladies blocking your path. They sent you a strange look but moved non the less, so you continued with your way.

Life at the keep has been wonderful and very welcoming. The opportunity became clear when your father moved to kingsland at the request of the hand, you followed him in hopes of a better future. Maybe a handsome suitor will fall at your feet for your hand in marriage, yet you were offered something else in the mean time. A chance to be a Lady-In-Waiting for The Queen herself.

Alicent couldn’t keep her eyes off of you since she first laid eyes upon you at the way you carried yourself like sunshine. How beautiful your hair curled, how intoxicating the smile on your lips made her feel. The world seemed to not have touched you yet as you still sang of happiness and innocents. Something the gods must have wished for her — to keep you safe from harm and the cruelties that plague the realm.

As you made your way down the halls you made yourself walk a little faster, trying not to trip down the stairs with your skirts lifted in your hands. You nodded to every lord you passed by, never noticing the lingering eyes flicker down your frame. Once down with the steps you make your way to the old chambers were Your Queen resides. You smile at the guard beside the door. He stepped aside and opened the chamber door with you close behind him.

“My Queen,” you bond your knees and nod your head towards her. She turns from her gaze from out the window to you, your dress matching the same shade of hers.

The knight walks out and shuts the door behind him. Placing your hands together you walk closer and a bright smile forms. Around the queen sat a large selection of sweets that aways called your name and delicious wine made from peach’s, always making you feel good.

Alicent looked between the pastries you laid eyes upon and then back at you, and courageous smile appearing on her face before grabbing a plate herself. “Good morrow, Lady Y/n.” she twisted her tongue while trailing herself closer to the silver trays.

“Good Morrow, Your Grace. I hope the night was kind to you,” you asked sweetly.

Once she gathered a few small cakes she took a seat on the cushions and watched you while you did the same. How comfortable you seemed to always be in her presences. Or the bounce in your steps when you saw sweets, no matter the occasion.

“Fair enough I suppose, as it can be as of late,” she sighed and swirled the cup of wine to her lips. Taking a set across from her you begin to devour the sweets on the plate, your eyes brightening with eat taste.

Alicent kept her eyes on you and continued to watch you eat while something rooted inside her chest and made it sting. Rumors. Horrible whispers have spread to her ears about you — About a betrothal — something she couldn’t let happen. Having you married to someone else, it simply wouldn’t do. A man would crush your spirits, never show you the love you deserved nor treat you like she did.

“Tell me, have you anything important as of late to share?” Alicent questioned while the light made shades on her face and her eyes piercing into you.

Nothing of importance come to mind as you spent most of your time at her side, so not much has happened since the hours of leaving her to rest. “Nothing of note, Your Grace.” she only hummed in reply to think of something you could know.

“You’d never leave my side, would you?” Alicents voice stayed calm and honeyed with her words, and eyes curious above the cup now leaning into her lips.

You rushed to shake your head to deny, jumping almost at the edge of your seat to convince her otherwise.

“No Your Grace. I would never dream of leaving your side as long as you wish as such.”

“Then there has been no indication of a lord asking for your hand?” Alicent questioned you. Nothing to her words spoke to you, nor held any truth to them.

“There has been no word of any engagement of mine, My Queen I assure you. Whoever told you these lies simply must have misheard or played the feddle of lies.” You asserted. The next second you watch her rise to her feet, her dress falling off her lap and a beautiful shade of green you always recognize with comfort and warmth. Alicent stood just before you, and right above you and her difference in height now forced you to look up at her.

Alicent took her fingers and grabbed ahold of your chin. The mood shifted in the air as her presences changed to a unrecognized one, and slight fear dwelled within you. “I couldn’t have someone steal you away, your sworn to be by my side. No man can have you,” she harshly tightened her fingers. A darkness filled her eyes as she stared down at you, and the pain of her hold made you flinch — you had no choice but to obey.

“Yes, My Queen.” You quiver.

She let go and made a cooing sound and dropped a few inches downwards to take you into her arms in acts to comfort you. She rubbed your back with her warm hands and tried to soothe your state.

“My sweet girl, I appreciate your loyalty. I only want what’s best for you. As I am the only one who understands what you need.” She whispers before placing a kiss onto your temple.

[elaacreditava]

Have I found you, flightless bird?

Azriel Shadowsinger x reader

Summary: Rhysand brings back home a mysterious girl with a distaste for Illyrians. Azriel feels attracted to her and compelled to change her view on things.

Warning: angst, blood, gore, pinning and fluff

Word count: 4.661k

Note: This is my first writing ever. Never thought about writing fics, only reading them (obsessed) but I couldn't take this fic out of my mind so I decided to write and share it.

After Amarantha's death, Rhysand winnowed back to Velaris with an unknown female. As soon as he saw his family, Rhys fell to his knees and was hugged by Mor while cried and said repeatedly "she's my mate". His cousin, Amren, Cassian and Azriel stared incredulously at the mysterious woman in the corner of the room.

"Who are you?", the Illyrian commander asked after the shock of the situation has passed.

"I'm Y/n and no, he's not talking about me, I'm not his mate", Y/n answered feeling the need to get rid of any misunderstanding. No one asked any more questions while all of them sat down after Rhysand had calmed himself enough to start explaining everything that had happened since the beginning.

When Rhys was done hours later, Azriel noticed how little he knew about Y/n, as if Rhys was leaving her out of it as much as possible intentionally, only saying that she was Amarantha's slave just like him.

Seeing Y/n rounded ears, no scales, horns, wings, slitted eyes or anything that made her high fae or lesser, Azriel deemed she was human, the most beautiful female he has seen in his life with her smooth long hair, slender body and sharp face, no older than 25. But what got Azriel most about her were her eyes, more than the exquisite color they had, the look she gave at them, the kind of look of someone that had been through a lot and would never let it happen again was always present. He needed to know more about her, so he decided to pry for answers.

"Why did you bring the human back with you? Why not send her back to the mortal lands?" Az asked Rhysand but as soon as he finished his sentence, Y/n eyes turned in his direction and the shadowsinger knew he had made a mistake. "The 'human' is no human at all and she hates when someone talks about her as if she's not present." Y/n said in a disgusted tone and with such fury that Azriel felt like he's been electrocuted, but being the spymaster he is, he didn't let show how much the storm in her eyes affected him.

"Y/n isn't human, she's... something else, but that's not my story to tell. She will tell whenever she feels ready to share." replied Rhys trying to keep the conversation under control. Azriel and Y/n kept staring at each other for a while and he had a feeling she didn't like him very much. When the silence was uncomfortable enough for everybody else in the room, Azriel was the first to speak "Apologies, I didn't mean to, I see you and know you can speak for yourself." That caught Y/n off guard. Was it possible for an Illyrian to be different from all the ones she has meet before? Apologizing and looking at her as if had worth stirred something in her chest, something she hadn't felt before, like a tug in her heart. But she decided to not let it show and only nodded in return.

After introducing Y/n to his family, Rhysand decided the conversation would be over for now. "Y/n and I must rest" Rhys said to everyone and turning to her he finished with "Nuala and Cerridwen will help you getting settled." With that, the High Lord left and everybody else went to their own affairs while the half-wraiths took Y/n to the room she would be staying.

A warm bath was waiting for her and since she was feeling the need of washing away everything that happened she went in. Scrubbing the skin raw has become a tradition, the necessity of getting rid of Amarantha's touch and smell she could feel on herself after she was used, like Rhys was. Even now, with Amarantha dead, Y/n could smell her as if it was impregnated on her skin, as if she would never be free of it. So she scrubbed and cried and scrubbed some more like she did for years and years.

Having left the bath and changed into a short sleeved knee length dress, Y/n felt as clean as she could get. She was thinking about taking a walk around to explore the house when someone knocked on the door. Y/n went and opened it coming face to face with Azriel. Looking at him from this close, she could see the green in his hazel eyes, the light freckles on his cheeks, how his sharp jaw could cut anything. He was breathtaking. And breathless she was... until she realized they were staring at each other, so she cleaned her throat and said "Can I help you with anything?"

Azriel noticed her puffy eyes from crying during her scrub session and the raw skin of her arms and neck, so red that looked very sensitive to touch. The dark blue dress she was wearing complimented her curves and skin tone. He could only think about how was it possible to someone to look so mesmerizing even with puffy eyes, raw skin and a simple dress.

After a moment he averted his eyes "I feel like we started with the wrong foot. I'm Azriel, spymaster of the Night Court." he extended his hand, palm up, his shadows went to his fingertips, eager for her to make contact so they would jump to her warm fingers. Y/n put her hand on his and he kissed it and gave her a little bow while he saw his shadows circling her wrist and caressing her forearm "They seen to like you" his lips twitched trying to hold a smile before he continued "I was wondering if you need anything. Perhaps a tour around the place?" he said looking at her eyes now with a little smile, still holding her hand, and Y/n was wondering how soft his lips would feel against hers.

No! She couldn't get involved with him! After everything she's been through, she didn't need an Illyrian brute controlling her choices, taking away her freedom like she knew was part of their culture. As soon as she thought about it, she snatched her hand back and said "No thanks, I don't need to go anywhere with your kind" dismissing him. She was ready to close the bedroom door but he stopped her, holding the door ajar. She could see hurt and fury in his eyes, his shadows back around him were bristled when he asked "What do you mean with 'my kind'?" at that moment she thought he probably didn't always need to torture to get the answers he wanted, the look he was giving her and the tone he voiced his question was almost enough to make her apologize and cower in a corner. But she didn't suffer all she did all those years to run and hide when confronted any male.

"I don't need an Illyrian male telling me what to do and where to go, soon enough you'll start telling me what to wear and how to behave" she replied coldly.

"What?! I was just trying to be nice since you just got here and don't know your surroundings. Never wanted to control you in any way, just thought you would feel more at ease knowing how to come and go." He took a step closer, she could smell night-chilled mist and cedar coming from him "Don't compare me to other Illyrians you have met before. You don't know me", his low voice giving her goosebumps and making her heart race.

Azriel felt an anguish in the current situation he hasn't felt before. Being compared to everything he had fought against his whole life.

"Whenever you feel like leaving your prejudice behind, I'll be around." with that he left leaving Y/n stunned by the door. She was so shocked by his words that she didn't remember closing the bedroom door, walking to her bed and laying down. She felt a mix of rage and shame, how he talked to her, after she patronized him, how her prejudice made her think they're all the same when all he showed her was kindness. She took a deep breath and got up ready to find him and apologize but as soon as she got to the door and opened, Rhys was there. "Hey! I just saw Az leaving, looking mad, what happened?" he asked, so Y/n told him everything about their encounter.

"You shouldn't judge a book by its cover, Y/n. The brooding face, shadows and bat wings might give you the wrong impression but once you get to know him, you'll see that he's nothing like you ever knew. Let the past in the past and try to be open minded" the High lord said, making her feel even worse about the situation. So she got up fast and said "I need to go, Rhys. Do you know where I can find him? I really need to apologize."

"He's probably at the library, it's where we usually find him when he's pissed. It's on the lower floor, fourth door to your right." he instructed her knowing she had no idea where was anything in the house. "Thanks Rhys, wish me luck!" she said passing Rhysand and giving him a peck on his cheek.

"No problem! And you won't need luck, Az is a nice male and you are you. He will understand and both of you will be fine." he said with a smirk looking at her as if he knew something Y/n didn't. She went to the lower floor and the fourth door to her right was a large one, very library like so she got in and started looking for him. The place was so big, with endless shelves full of books. She will definitively spend some time here in the future. For now she had to find him, but had no idea where to start.

Something on the ground was trying to get her atention and when she stepped closer she noticed it was one of his shadows. When she bent down to touch it the shadow moved to an aisle luring her to follow it and so she did. After some twists and turns she found him sitting on a sofa with a pile of books and reports laying on the table by his side. He looked very comfortable, with his legs spread, one hand holding a report while the other arm was resting on the back of the sofa holding his head in place. His wings were behind the sofa resting, just as spread as his legs. And damn, if the rumors about wingspan were true, the male in from of her was very blessed. Fuck, she comes to apologize and can't stop thinking about those things, not nice!

As soon as she came into view, he stiffened and fixed his posture, looking tense and ready to fight. "I've come in peace!" She stated quickly while holding her hands up in a surrender position for him to see. "I was so unfair comparing you to others, I am very sorry about it. I've had some bad experiences in life but that doesn't excuse how I treated you." Az looked her over, her guilty ridden face told him she was being sincere.

"It's okay, I forgive you" he replied and she instantly looked so relieved and for a couple of seconds he just kept gazing at her, something in her was so entrancing, he couldn't take his eyes off of her until -"wait, how did you find me here? This library is like a maze" he said imagining the trouble she went through until finally finding him.

"Uh, as soon as I entered the library one of your shadows found me and guided me to you" she said and his jaw dropped. His shadows always helped him to hide, not to be found. It didn't matter who was looking for him, they never gave his whereabouts to anyone. "You little traitors" he scolded them playfully. Even feeling a bit betrayed by them he felt glad that they did it and the air between Azriel and Y/n could be cleared.

"So, I feel like we started with the wrong foot. I'm Y/n. Would you mind giving me a tour around the place?" she used almost the same words he did hours before by her door so he barked a laugh, got up, took the hand she extended, kissed it, put it around his byceps and told her "It would be my pleasure."

He didn't fail to notice how his shadows would naturally run from him to hers, excited to touch her warm skin and back to him bringing her smell with them.

Months have passed and the dynamic between them both was as if they have known each other for centuries. They would talk for hours about a book they read, go to a cafe to have their favorite pastries, walk down the Rainbow while chatting about the future, training hand to hand combat, since Y/n begged to learn anything because she felt the need since she was never able to fight back in her slave days or before that.

Everything was great between them, except for the fact that Y/n still didn't disclose anything to him about her past. He didn't know what she was, where she came from, how old was she, and that made Azriel confused. She was comfortable enough to have him around, to do almost everything together, even sleep on his shoulder once when they were reading together side by side on the couch and she fell asleep, laying her head on his shoulder, then moving to his chest, and when waking up, not being embarrassed about it, as if it wasn't the first time this was happening and as id it wasn't almost gave him a heart attack.

Her head near his face, he could smell her hair, feel the softness of it on his cheek, he wanted to run his hands through it, feel it between his fingers. Then she moved a little bit to get more comfortable and her nose was almost touching his chest. He could feel her breath on his skin since the V neck he was wearing showed some skin. It tickled him and gave goosebumps.

He couldn't concentrate on his book any longer. All he could think about was how would it feel to have her hair between his fingers while she kissed his chest, his abs, his- never mind! He took a deep breath and tried very hard to take his mind off of it. They would be very flirty with each other all the time but it was just a joke, she would never be interested in him more than friends. She was so kind, brave, smart and pretty. And he was just him.

Today was training day and they were stretching at the center of the ring before starting with hand to hand combat. Y/n was wearing leggings and a long sleeved shirt. Azriel noticed Y/n never wore sleeveless clothing, she would show her arms sometimes but never her back. He tried to dismiss this information but it kept nagging at him.

Azriel was wearing his combat leathers, and Y/n couldn't stop staring at his muscles, how good he was looking. He kept giving her a welcoming smile, an encouraging one since they were about to start fighting and he would handle her ass to her. She has been training for months now but he has been training for centuries, it didn't matter what a great professor he was, she would never win a fight between them, even so with her getting distracted when their skin touch, when he imobilizes her and she can feel his breath on her neck, when he's so close that everything she can do is do her best to keep herself under control and not kiss him then and there.

It was impossible not to fall for him. He was amazing, she could spend the whole day with him and would never tire of his company. Everyone saw him as a serious fae, never smiling and always in the shadows, but with Y/n he was funny, attentive, respectful and smart. Gods, she wanted him so much. But he would never want her, a broken girl, her years as a slave only left a shadow of the person she was. He would answer her flirtation with the same tone but of course it was just a joke to him, he could have anyone, why would he choose her?

"Okay, today we'll test the grappling you've been learning lately. We have tested your kicking lessons and punching ones in the last classes. Today, no kicking, no punching, only imobillizing, got it?" He asked and even knowing what was coming, she got nervous. He was very built, tall and large so she would have trouble dealing with it.

He taught her how to take down bigger opponents but one thing was just theory and training other was to use it to really win the fight. Y/n just took a deep breath and nodded in confirmation.

They started to circle each other, looking for a weak spot to take advantage of. She tried to trip him tackling his legs but he just pushed her back and gave a little laugh. She knew he was playing her, that he could have finished it already but he wanted to see what she had learned. So back at circling she remembered a takedown she read about, trained the movement in front of the mirror many times but never really did it on someone. If she was able to execute it, Azriel wouldn't be expecting it since it was one he never taught her.

Y/n keep a natural stance while moving closer to him. She then gripped his left wrist with her right hand and hooked his left armpit with her left arm. Taking a big step forward, she rotated her body and dropped to her knees between his legs, with her back to him, using the momentum to change Azriel's center of gravity and pull him over her shoulder and onto his back on the mat. He looked so surprised that Y/n kept staring at his face with the biggest smile he has ever seen. He took a second to save that scene in his memory and in the next he dropped her and mounted her waist.

"That was one hell of a takedown, but instead of gloating you should've held me down so I wouldn't get up and take you down" he said looking down and smiling at her.

Y/n was breathless. She didn't know if it was because of the takedown, or of when he caught her off guard after it or because he was sitting on top of her with that smile that melted her every time.

"Hey, are you okay?" He whispered thinking she could be hurt and moved his hand to move her hair away from her face. Lost in his actions, he didn't notice the mischief in her eyes. She hugged his forearm and bumped her hips to the side, making him loose balance and falling on his back again. This time she learned her lesson, before he could close his legs around her hips or get up, Y/n moved fast and mounted him as he did to her minutes ago but now, she held his wrists above his head.

They both were breathing heavy, their noses inches apart, looking at each other's eyes. His eyes moved from hers to her lips and back to her eyes.

"I yield" he breathed against her lips. She threw all control away and kissed him deep and hard. Moving one hand to his hair and the other to the back of his neck she tried to show him through that kiss how much he meant to her, how glad she was to have met him and how she wanted a future with him.

With his arms now free from her grip, Azriel buried with fingers in her hair and his other hand moved to the small of her back. He waited so long for this to happen and to have her kissing him back, gods! He hoped she could feel how in love he was with her, how he never wanted to part from her, have her in his arms all the time would be everything.

Y/n lifted her head a little bit, just enough to look at his face, that's when she felt it. That tug in her heart so strong that made her gasp. The bond snapping into place. She widened her eyes in disbelief. Azriel was her mate.

"Hey, what's wrong?" The shadowsinger asked, noticing the change in her demeanor. He moved his hand from the small of her back to between her shoulder blades and saw when she instantly winced in pain and pushed his arm away, getting up and turning her back to him, ready to leave.

Before she could go, Azriel grabbed her arm, keeping her in place. When she looked at him, her eyes were shining silver with tears. He knew he didn't hurt her back, had mastered enough his fighting skills to be sure of it. The pain must be from a wound badly healed from her time Under the Mountain.

"Please, talk to me" her mate pleaded, "please, I want to help, I want you!" With that, she looked at his hazel eyes and saw all the love he had for her. It was time to trust him with her secrets since her mate always showed himself to be loyal and reliable.

Y/n moved her arm from his grip but didn't walk away, only turned her back to him. When he thought she would ignore him, she started taking her shirt off. Under that she had a spaghetti strapped top and where he touched her back before were scars. The red and twisted tissues were in the same placement of his wings.

"I'm Illyrian, Az. Amarantha severed my wings with her sword after I tried to run away from Under the Mountain years ago" she told, looking at him over her shoulder with tears running down her face. "My father was Rhys' father Illyrian commander. The night Tamlin's family was killed by Rhys dad at Spring Court, my father was there helping them. So Amarantha slaved Rhys and I for our parents part in her ally's death."

Azriel was at loss for words. Y/n had wings once. And they were cut off of her with a sword. The pain she must have felt. It's a wonder she's still alive. He had so many questions but afraid of overstepping he started slow with "that's how you know about Illyrian culture, why you thought I was like them all."

"Yes, I grew up witnessing how females were treated by males in our village. Always being submissive, ready to serve, never fighting back" she told him with rage in her voice. "When I was old enough, my father clipped my wings. Told me it would be easier to marry me to someone this way, as it was a display of submissiveness. He died the same night as Rhys' father, by Tamlin's hands. And when Amarantha came for me, I couldn't fly away and didn't know how to fight to defend myself. So she took me." Her father made her a flightless bird, always caged, never able to feel the wind on her wings ever again.

By now, Y/n was on her knees with her forehead on his chest, the conversation having taken all her strength, while the spymaster kneeled before her, holding her as if he could prevent her from breaking, from falling to pieces.

"After years of serving in Amarantha's bed whenever she felt like it, I tried to run away. It was the best chance I've had in years, I would have made it if I could fly after leaving her court, but with clipped wings I had to walk, that's when the Attor got me" Y/n was sobbing so hard that Azriel was shushing her, caressing her hair and promising he would never anyone hurt her again. She believed him, knew he would burn the world down to keep her safe.

After taking deep breaths to calm herself, she continued, "Amarantha said that clipped wings weren't enough to make me submissive, she would need to try harder. So she grabbed her sword and severed them. I'll never forget the pain I felt that day, the sound of my screams, the blood spilling from my back. After that, she called for Rhysand, told him that his mission was to not let me die of blood loss and left.

"Rhys found a healer and they did the best they could in the conditions presented to them. I survived, but a wound this bad needed better conditions to heal properly, that's why is more sensitive than a normal scar. Madja's already working on it, prescribed some balms and potions to lessen the pain and make it less sensitive but she said it will take a while to be completely painless."

"Y/n, I'm so sorry this happened to you, all of this! What your father did, the price you paid for his actions, all you suffered before and during Amarantha's reign. I wish you never went through situations were you had to show your strength but going through it all, you were so strong, so brave!" Azriel said with choked voice while holding Y/n face in his hands, touching her forehead with his, drying her tears with his thumbs, caressing her cheek in reassurance. The shadowsinger himself was on the verge of tears, keeping a hold on his emotions while trying to comfort Y/n. "I would do anything to save you from all this suffering, anything" Azriel whispered to her.

Y/n felt so light, having someone to share the burden, someone she trusted, was like having a boulder removed from her chest. And to hear all reassurances he was giving her made her feel so safe and seen. She gripped his face in her hands and kissed him lightly but with so much love that he felt the bond snapping into place right away.

Azriel gasped, opened his eyes and Y/n was staring at him with a smile on her face, eyes rimmed with tears. She gave a tug on the bond and he gasped again, she laughed and said "Can you feel it?"

Her mate just nodded gaping at her. She laughed harder then said "thank the cauldron! I thought I'd have to endure ages until it snapped to you too!"

"You're my mate" he whispered, she nodded. "I've found you... I can't believe it" he was stunned. "When did it- oh, minutes ago when you were looking at me after our kiss!" He realized, dumb struck.

"For a spymaster sometimes you're very clueless, you know?" She said giggling. "I've been giving you clues about how I feel about you, flirting and spending as much time as I could with you. Mates or not, I've been in love with you for a while now."

Azriel was dreaming, he was sure of it. No way this was real, it was too good to be truth. Y/n was his mate and was in love with him. He never thought he was deserving of a mate, much less deserving of her and here they were, mates and in love. The Mother blessed him with the greatest gift.

"Looks like you bested me this" he said smiling, then cupped her jaw to to lift her face and capture her eyes and said "I will protect you with my life. I'd die and kill for you."

Y/n knew he was speaking the truth because she could feel through the bond and also that's how she felt about him. Knowing all he has been through since a child, she would die and kill to keep him safe.

Her lover, her mate, her Azriel.

[sarawritestories]

You're On Your Own Kid, You Always Have Been

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: Starting off your relationship when you were young, you and Cassian lived for centuries, in a happy, loving, relationship, that is until Nesta Archeron swept the General off his feet and left you abandoned his friends you thought were yours, following the new mated couple. You were utterly alone with nothing but a shattered heart to show for it.

Dedicated to @thelov3lybookworm, who encouraged me to write this! Buckle up! You're in for a treat!

Content Warning: Disordered eating, the IC being absolutely terrible, abandonment, feelings of worthlessness, feeling alone and lost, no happy ending for mentioned pairing. Let me know if I missed any.

If you see mistakes... no you didn't.

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

🖤🖤🖤

You looked at your reflection for the first time in months. You barely recognized yourself anymore. Your cheeks and eyes were sunken, your ribs were protruding, and your skin held an ashy undertone that wasn't there before.

This is what abandonment looked like.

Longing stares never returned, his hand adjusting to evade your touch. A bed is left cold on one side. Friends who once joined you in joyous laughter barely acknowledge you at dinner. You had become a disease that no one knew how to handle but would be relieved if you disappeared.

It hadn't always been this way.

Warm calloused hands holding you close the scent of leather and sandalwood surrounding you. Cassian nibbling your ear, or stealing you away during meetings to steal a kiss, maybe two. Dinners at the rainbow, watching a storm roll through Velaris in the comfort of your balcony and his arms.

The early days of your relationship consisted of stolen kisses, discussions of hopes and dreams, that as centuries went by, morphed into talks of building a future a family. He was your person, and you were his, and life seemed bright.

Until you weren't.

Nesta Archeron was not a female to compete with. And how could you? She was elegant and sharp, and she was beautiful. She also challenged Cassian, fighting back with that quick, sharp tongue of hers, ways you never did. Then you felt it before he did, the shift, the snap. He had found his mate.

It wasn't you.

And the heartbreak of that fact would have been fine had Cassian consoled you in any way. When you needed his comfort and touch most. He was gone. He first stopped coming to bed, and when he did, he turned and faced away from you. The action alone made you feel like he was doing it as a chore, not because he found comfort in your warmth. Maybe he even thought he was being kind. It just deepened the wound festering in your soul.

Next was his things, books went missing, then his weapons. It was when you walked in on the Illyrian packing his things that he confronted you. "She needs me, sweetheart. I can not abandon my mate."

But I can abandon you.

A hand on your shoulder was the only comfort you received. His face held no remorse for the pain he was putting you through. You cried in your bathroom it wasn't until the next morning when you were in the same position the cool tile kissing your skin that you realized you had fallen asleep. You didn't leave your room for days, and no one came in to check on you. Not a single knock. Turns out you were only worth loving so long as Cassian did.

And he didn't. He had Nesta.

You had no one.

You were beginning to sink to a dark, inky place, the wound in your heart growing with infection, and your heartbreak was turning into rage. The feeling scared you. You ran to the one person you thought would be able to help you.

The High Lord of the Night Court.

You knocked lightly on his door. "Come in." His tone short. You walked in, not letting yourself think too hard about how busy he must be. He didn't even raise his head when he said, "I've been wondering when you would come visit." He leaned back in his chair, violet eyes, meeting yours. "Please sit."

You sat at the seat in front of him and took a deep breath. "So you know why I'm here?"

"Cassian and Nesta?" He quirked a brow, and you nodded he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. As if you were a hindrance in his life. Kind, loving, Rhysand, even found your presence as an inconvenience. "What would you like me to say, Darling? They are mates they are allowed to be together."

You dug your nails into your palms, trying to reign in the rage. "So you're okay with him not even saying two words to me since they met?" Your voice began to rise in volume, "He tried packing his things in times I wouldn't be home so he could avoid talking to me." Your rose from your seat and Rhysand stilled as lights flickered around you that you failed to notice. "You all act like I'm not apart of this family anymore. I could dissappear tomorrow and no one would care if you even noticed at all."

"So leave." The lights snuffed out completely. You thought it was Rhysand's power never once, considering it might be your own that had laid dormant for centuries. Or that said power stirred something deep in the realm where a manor resides on a lake. You could only focus on Rhysand's words and the cold tone he said them.

He was no longer your friend. He was your High Lord. Nothing more.

"Well. I won't stay where I'm not wanted. I would have thought a relationship that had lasted centuries deserved him, at least telling me he wanted to try with Nesta." Tears were falling and you didn't stop them, "I wouldn't have fucking stopped him. I would have been happy for him. He didn't say a word. He took the cowards way out. You all did."

"I'm sorry, Darling." Rhysand didn't mean it. The smirk on his face said it all.

You turned and walked away, pausing at the door. "No. You're not. But one day you will be." And you stormed out. Not bothering to grab your belongings, you didn't need the reminder of the court of dreamers casting you aside as if you were their personal nightmare. Not interested in speaking with anyone. They weren't interested in stopping you from leaving.

You. Were. Done.

🖤🖤🖤

You walked for hours, your feet were sore, back drenched in sweat the most you had done in months, since Cassian didn't care if you had shown up for training or not. Needing rest, you found a tree to lean against. The sun began to set, and you were ready to give up. Let the beast of the forest consume you whole. If you died, then maybe the ache in your chest would cease and you could be free again. Whole again.

You again.

You sipped from your canteen when you heard humming. Your pointed ears perked as a hunched over woman approached you. You recognized her from Rhysand, projecting Nesta's memories into your head. For extra torture, he had "accidentally sent a memory of Cassian pleasuring Nesta," You had sobbed profusely that night. "Briallyn." You whispered.

The crone stopped in her tracks. She turned to you, your eyes locked on one another, and you couldn't help but relate to her. She wanted a better life for herself, only to be thrown in the cauldron and spat back out. Both of you former shells of what you used to be. "My my, you look positively dreadful."

You snorted, "So do you."

She laughed, "What brings you out here alone? That brute finally get sick of you?"

You sharply inhaled a breath at the question. "He did, actually. I am doomed to wander these lands courtless," If you even lasted the night.

Briallyn waved her hand in dismissal, her now aged hand grabbing your too frail hand. "Not all who wander are lost, dear. I was asked by a friend to retrieve you."

"Who is your friend?"

"Someone who has a special interest in you my dear." And the Human Queen turned Crone led you from the forest further from the town you once called home and the only thing on your mind?

It was nice to be holding someone's hand.

🖤🖤🖤

The throne room was dark and cold, as if death itself resided here. The only vibrant color here was the Phoenix that was in her cage, pulling to break free.

Vassa was here.

Briallyn squeezed your hand, and you felt comfort by the warmth of her touch. As you approached the male on the dais. He looked young, and you gasped as his beauty was beyond compare. The most beautiful male you have ever seen. And then he grinned, and your heart fluttered. The General of the Night Court long forgotten as you stared in the males cold eyes. Briallyn bowed, tugging your hand as you made to do so too.

"No, need to bow, Pet." You paused, straightening your posture once more. "Do you know who I am?"

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat. "You go by many names. Old god, death lord, most call you Koschei." Your voice held a tremor as you were in the presence of a powerful being. A being whose brother once went toe to toe with the Lord of Bloodshed and almost killed him.

Koschei nodded, "Come closer, let me take a look at you." You looked to the former Human Queen in panic, afraid to lose her touch. "I promise I don't bite." You approached the dais and couldn't help the trembling convulsing through your body. The death of the Lord's dark eyes roamed your body. He rubbed his angular jaw, and your eyes met his lips as he tucked the lower one behind his teeth.

Beautiful, he was absolutely breathtaking.

His voice broke you from the trance like state. "My dear, someone has hurt you? What did they do to you?" He leaned forward, grabbing your hand and placing a light kiss on your knuckles. Tears brimmed your eyes. When was the last time someone harbored any affection toward you. "Tell me, sweet girl." Another kiss and your composure broke. You fell to your knees, and a matter of hours went into painstaking detail of how the Night Court had abandoned you. When you finished, there was a lightness in your chest.

Maybe there was hope.

"Oh, you poor thing." Koschei cooed, tilting your chin to meet his cold eyes, "If I had you, I wouldn't let you go so easily." He wiped the stray tears from your face. "Be mine, and never feel that pain again."

You lip wobbled as the cries of the Phoenix caged beside the old god broke your attention, the shrieks louder than before. Koschei gripped your chin and had you facing him once more, his face inching forward. His lips pressed yours, gentle and promised warmth, love, power. You felt as though he was breathing life back into you, and you relished in his lips touching yours. He pulled away, "What do you say, Little One?" A voice in the back of your mind screamed:

Right

Right

Right

You smiled for the first time in well over a year,"I want to be yours, Koschei." Magic thrummed around you as his smile turned sinister, gold chains clamping to your wrist, a collar latched around your neck. Scantily clad in a black sheer tip, only covering your breast and a skirt that barely covered your ass.

Koschei smirked as he gripped your waist and placed you on his lap. "What a formidable pair we shall be, my pet." Making a onyx crown and a matching ring appear, he gently placed the crown atop of your head, sliding the ring on your finger. You admired the ring, a small smile on your face, and something pulled at your chest at the thought:

He was claiming you. And you loved it.

Looking at the beautiful face of death and pressing your lips to his, ignoring the rattling of the former human queen beside you. You adjusted yourself, so you were straddling his lap. You opened your mouth for him, and he accepted. His hand gripped your ass as your kisses became tongues and teeth clashing. You forgot what this felt like. To be held to be kissed with such passion.

To simply be wanted.

"My Queen of Darkness." He murmured, threading his fingers through your hair, "You don't even know how powerful you are." He yanked your hair, and you moaned. "I'll show you." He bit down on the tender flesh connecting your collar bone to your neck, and you moan as his hand gripped your breast. "You magnificent creature." You smiled at the sky.

This is what being worshipped felt like.

Snap

Koschei paused, removing his hand from your pert nipple he slide his hand to the back of your neck. Love and adoration in his eyes, lips swollen, "Tell me, as you are to me my bride. What gift shall I get you for our ceremony?"

What did you want?

You smiled Koschei, noticing the mischievous glint in your eye. "The General of the Night Court's Armies and his Little Lady of Death here chained like the dogs they are."

Koschei brought your face down to his. His mouth lingering over yours, "Anything for my Cruel, Beautiful, Mate." The gold thread wrapped around your heart tying you to him as he crashed your lips onto him.

Not even caring that Vassa had broken free from her cage and soared to the Human Realms.

To be continued?

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Season Two}

Season one

Chapter Seventeen - End of the season

♡♡♡

The duke and duchess were holding the last ball of the season. It was going to be a grand event to be certain. The whole ton would be there.

You were wearing your last gown made for the season. It was beautiful. A shade of green. It had little jewels sewn into it, so it would sparkle while you danced.

You looked forward to seeing Thomas.

Though you had not secured an engagement within the time of the season, you hoped that you may continue to correspond with Thomas while he was in the country, and perhaps go see him at his family estate, that he may ask.

Your mother would be so proud.

Your maid did your hair and helped the jewellery. It was going to be a spectacular season finale. You could feel it in your bones.

Hastings House was beautiful.

You walked with your mother around the fountain to the main entrance. The ball was to be held in a small courtyard in the middle of the house. Daphne had done a splendid job.

There was a painting of the duke and duchess on display. Painted bt Henry Granville. It was beautifully done.

You stand off to the side while your mother chats with guests. You watch people waltz.

Violet arrives with Eloise. Daphne goes to talk to her sister.

You keep your eyes peeled for any sign of Thomas.

The next to come through the door are the Featheringtons. You cannot deny your relief at seeing Penelope again. Granted, she is wearing yellow, but she is here.

One dance ends, and the next dance begins.

You take a stroll about the ball. Thomas has yet to arrive, it seems. You smile at Penelope as you pass her. She smiles back, too, seemingly surprised you had paid her any attention. People usually don't.

You see Colin parting ways with Benedict across the room. Your eyes follow the second eldest Bridgerton as he walks.

He hasn't noticed you.

Maybe that's for the best...

No.

No. He is your friend and you want to talk to him. You are about to make your way across the room when a servant comes up to you with a note on his tray. You look at him confused.

"For you, ma'am."

You look at the note and pick it up. The servant leaves, and you unfold the paper. The handwriting belongs to Thomas.

I must apologise. I am to leave for York immediately. I shall not be at the Hastings ball. Do have fun on my behalf.

- T. Hardy

You stare at the note in silence. He's not coming at all. He must have left earlier in the day. Perhaps in a rush. You had been at the Bridgertons that afternoon, so if he called the house, you wouldn't have seen him.

If he had called to the house, the butler would have told you, or even your mother. He did not call... So he must have been in a rush.

You sigh. You fold the note back up and leave it on a tray of a passing waiter. They can dispose of it for you.

Glancing up, you find two blue eyes gazing at you. Benedict has seen you. Now you're definitely going to go talk to him. You make your way across the courtyard and come to stand beside Benedict.

"Hello."

"Hello," he replies softly.

Silence fills the space between you, and you turn to the dancers to occupy yourself, and to keep from looking at him again.

"Is Lord Hardy not with you?" Benedict couldn't help asking. He was surprised to see you standing alone tonight.

"No. He left London already. Back to York."

Benedict is even further surprised by the information. He thought Hardy would stay until the very end. He believed the man to be falling for you.

"I see."

You look down and try to keep yourself in check. "I thought maybe I had finally found someone. Someone who perhaps desried me, but it seems I was wrong."

Benedict keeps quiet.

"I wasn't enough for anyone this season. I tried, and I failed. Doesn't matter, I suppose. Next year might be different."

"You didn't fail."

You look up at Benedict. "I didn't secure a proposal or even managed to keep a man interested enough to at least say goodbye before he left."

"You might see him again," he says.

"Somehow, I feel not."

Benedict feels for you. You have been nothing but glorious and wonderful and yourself all year round. You wiggled yourself into the lives of his family and became a pleasant consistent in their lives. You encouraged his passions and made him feel a little more like himself.

"You didn't fail," he says again.

You look up at him and crack a smile. "Next year then."

He nods.

The music changes and the floor is cleared. You notice the duke and duchess approach each other. You knew something had happened between them, but didn't know what. Yet, here they were about to dance for the ton.

You smile at Daphne as dances with her husband. They look like such a handsome couple. You envy them. You envy what they have.

The way they look at each other. How close he holds her to him.

Love.

It is so rare. It's so rare that very few people ever get to feel it for real. You want it. You want to know what it feels like to have, well, a soulmate. The one person made just for you. To love and to hold. To cherish. To share every moment with.

Benedict shifts hisngaze from his sister to look at you. He can see the way you watch Daphne and Simon dance.

Benedict's had fun. He played around. Tested the waters. But looking at you right here and right now makes him rethink everything.

Genevieve has certainly been fun. Yet, if you were going to try again for your own sake next year, perhaps he should, too. You, who inspired his art. Inspired him to try harder and practise more.

Perhaps next season, you will both benefit and grow more as people.

As the waltz continues, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance brings you to look up at the sky. The heavens open and rain pours. You gasp softly as the cool droplets hit your skin.

Benedict instinctively reaches out for you and guides you under the canopy toward the house. You look up at him and then turn back to the ball. Everyone else does the same, seeking shelter from the rain.

Everyone but Daphne.

Simon is holding her hand as if he was guiding her to shelter, but Daphne stops him from doing so. She closes her eyes and lifts her face to the sky, letting the rain fall.

She looks beautiful.

Lady Danbury stops anyone else from going out into the rain. "Everyone... I believe this evening is complete. We shall thank our gracious hosts for such a splendid soiree in the morning. Now, go. Out."

Everyone begins to leave.

Benedict slips his hand into yours and guides you out. You look up at him quietly.

Daphne and Simon have some talking to do.

Benedict guides you through the house and outside to the carriage. It's still raining. His hair sticks to his head and you giggle.

"What?"

"Nothing..." You smile.

He gives you a boyish grin. He helps you into the carriage and stands around in the doorway.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" He asks.

"You leave for the country tomorrow."

"Are you not also?"

"Me and Mama are to stay in London. We don't have a country house to go to in the summer."

Benedict didn't know that. "Did your father not own an estate?"

"We had to sell it when he died. He left us with a great deal of dept."

He realises in that moment how much he doesn't know about you. You're so much more complicated than he originally thought.

Your mother clears her throat and Benedict moves to let her into the carriage.

"See you soon, I hope?" He looks at you.

"I'll write."

He nods and watches the footman close the door. He steps back as the carriage leaves, and Benedict finds himself a little lonely.

♡♡♡

When you rise the next morning, you have no idea of anything that happened within the Featherington house. Lord Featherington died. He was killed.

Penelope spent much of the morning in tears. Elosie had gone to visit her.

Marina went with Sir Philip Crane. The brother of her deceased love who never made it back home. She was to marry him. At least she could have her child and be looked after.

You had decided to go to the Bridgerton house before they all left. It was the least you could do for Benedict and his family. They had all seemed pleased to see you when you arrived, and that made you feel warm inside.

Colin was leaving for Greece. Another reason for Penelope to be upset. Colin was going to be so far away travelling the world.

You waved him off as he rode away on his horse. Benedict had his arm locked with yours.

As the rest of the family headed inside, you struck up conversation with Daphne, Simon, and Anthony. While the duke and duchess are staying in London a little longer, it would seem Anthony intends to find a Viscountess.

That leaves all of you stunned.

Though he follows it up by saying he will keep love out of it to keep things simple. Daphne frowns at that. As do you.

"Perhaps he will learn," she says.

"Perhaps not," you reply.

Eloise hurries over to her brother, who is about to climb onto a horse. You had already said farewell to him.

"Give my regards to Madame Delacroix." She says to Benedict.

"Your regards will have to wait, El," he responds. "She is making a short trip to France."

"Oh? Not going to say goodbye to her?" Eloise asks.

"I did. Last night, if you must know."

Benedict had gone to see her after he bid you goodnight. He went to say goodbye. After seeing you at the ball last night, he decided to change his mind on a few things.

Granted, the goodbye was a long one. He spent a couple of hours at the shop, but nothing untoward happened.

"You said goodbye to her?"

"After Daphne's ball, yes." Benedict then mentioned he spent most of the ball with you.

Eloise worked out that if Madame Delacroix had been at the shop all night. That couldn't have been her in the carriage when Eloise went to protect Whistledown.

Eloise headed back inside.

"Are you coming?" Benedict calls.

You turn and see him on his horse. "Me?"

"Yes, you." He chuckles.

"Where?"

"One last ride around the square before me and my family leave for the summer." He offers.

You smile and look up at him. "I'm not dressed for riding.

"No matter. He offers you his hand."

"Benedict... we cannot create a scandal at the very end of the season."

"Why not?" He grins

"Because I said so."

He laughs.

"Very well. I'm glad you came to see us." He says.

"Me too. Have a lovely summer, Benedict."

"You too." He speaks your name softly, smiling. You both stay like that for a moment, looking at each other. The moment is broken we spurs his horse onward.

You watch him go with a smile.

You look around the square and sigh softly.

Next season was going to be different. It had to be.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @charmainemaclendon - @pinkpantheris - @krismdavis

@biancamde - @ifgslsofbsodbf - @kniselle - @berarenado - @grassclippers - @bwormie - @avengersgirllorianna

[ne-videl]

𝓾𝓷𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓰𝓮

♡

yandere Poseidon x fem reader

hide your tears and smile, little goddess.

yandere, unhealthy relationships, objectification, angst, power imbalance, depressed reader, forced marriage, poor english, sfw. first half – Poseidon's pov, then yours.

word count: ~1.5k

a/n: hii everyone!! how have you been? I have no ideas. like, absolutely. art block I guess?? anyway, have some of my old stuff. this is my least favorite yandere trope, but I love angst, so sometimes I go for it. by the way, when I first started it, I wanted to write a super idolized fluff but... well, we have what we have, or "why you don't want to marry Poseidon". hehe big booba man hehehe

the endless ocean is noisy outside the huge windows.

today, the sea sings a memorial service for you.

two people at the altar – the god and his bride.

Poseidon wants to smile rapaciously at her shaking figure.

she's afraid, poor thing. who wouldn't be afraid? he is, after all, the god of all gods, known for his cruel and merciless temper, the lord of the seas.

and she will become his lady very soon.

[name].

her name spreads like ambrosia across his lips.

even her name is so ordinary, so human, as, indeed, everything else about his charming wife.

she was a priestess in Poseidon's temple: in his own, so there's nothing wrong in taking what was already his. he noticed her by accident.

[name] was sitting hunched over, touching some bright flowers with her bruised palms. he liked to visit this temple sometimes: it was quiet and peaceful in the atrium, noisy humans did not flicker before his eyes.

little human girl did not even flinch when he silently stood next to her, only continued to look with big and very sad eyes at the colorful flower bed.

at their second meeting, she greeted him.

at the third time, she dared to start an idle conversation.

the fourth, and she talked about life in the temple.

at the fifth time she asked why he was coming here.

Poseidon always stood silently next to her, looming over her like a suffocating shadow. he was amused by her chattering, and, unexpectedly for himself, found her presence soothing, pleasant, unlike other humans, the mere sight of whom made the eye of the deity twitch.

life was bad for her in the temple.

[name] told him, she was sent to this place when she was still a girl, and she spent her whole life by the cold blue sea.

new head of the temple did not like her, saying that there was nothing for women to do here. that she should get married, but who needs her?

Poseidon saw the marks of beatings on her girlish body.

so he took her with him. she served in temple made in his name, spent her short life at his domain – it is quite natural that she will become his wife.

of course, it is unheard of that god marries a human – but does he really need someone's approval?

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

Hades advised to propose to her. it's the way humans do it.

Poseidon did not ask for her consent, for him it was just a formality: of course she would say yes, he was sure.

he will dress her in the finest silks, she will own the most beautiful jewels on all Olympus, the sea itself would be at her feet – how could a human girl want more?

smile spreads across his face as he sees her eyes widen, as she begins to shake – no doubt, from embarrassment – and his palm rests protectively on top of her head.

of course she agreed, how could it be any other way?

his fiancee is incredibly sweet. but weak and naive at the same time, like the rest of the human race. but he will protect her, give her a better life.

she must be very grateful to him.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

Poseidon remembers their wedding well, how [name] looked in amazement at the beauty of Atlantis, at the greatness of his seas.

in white robes, with downcast eyes, she swore an oath binding her life forever to a cruel deity, accompanied by singing of nymphs and the sound of the ocean.

she was now a goddess herself, whether she wanted to or not. of course, she wanted to, it couldn't be any other way. she loves him.

and, as the new lady of the seas, she will spend her now eternal life by his side. Poseidon will make sure of this no matter what.

she fearfully puts her small palm into his, while he, her husband, leads her through the corridors of the palace. [name] is silent. probably still embarrassed.

from now on, she will be the most beautiful ornament of his possessions, the shining pearl of Atlantis – his precious property, belonging only to him. and the sparkling ring on her tiny finger was proof.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

"wife." – [name] immediately turns around, smiles, comes closer.

his hand rests on her waist, his grip firm, possessively strong. she doesn't notice.

or pretends not to notice.

over time, [name] got used to him, cheered up, blossomed. it couldn't have been any other way, right?

songs, dances appeared, bright flowers and ringing laughter in the cold and empty corridors.

she became friends with his brothers, was able to conquer the proud Aphrodite, whom she now called her friend with visible joy.

Poseidon is pleased to consider himself a good husband.

he loves to see his wife smiling, laughing.

even if it's not just with him. it's better to be patient for a while, he thinks, than to lose her cheerful chatting for the whole evening.

though, she's cute even when she's angry.

Poseidon was gentle with her. allowed her much, much more than others, even spoiled her. [name] was his wife, after all, so he had to make sure she looked good enough.

he's a good husband.

[name] never contradicted him, never raised her adorable voice at him, never was not too selfish.

although deep down, he would like her to become more spoiled. so that, like him, she would not tolerate anyone's presence, except, of course, her husband.

to think of it, why would she need anyone besides him? she can be quite happy within the walls of the palace.

Poseidon dismissed these thoughts from himself – for some reason, his wife liked to be in society, even if without him.

well, he's willing to put up with her quirks as long as she knows who should come first for her.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

the outfit given by Aphrodite was very becoming to his spouse. Poseidon loved to see her beautiful.

in luxurious clothes, undoubtedly worthy of the wife of a sea god, or in the warm candlelight in the night darkness of their shared bedroom, happy or shedding tears, [name] was equally beautiful.

the precious treasure of Atlantis.

he was never moved by her tears – even if she was crying, of course she loved him anyway. [name] is happy. so why make a big deal about it?

none of the pathetic mortals could take care of her like he did. none of them would love her the way he does.

"you are my wife. you're not going anywhere."

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

you didn't tell anyone about your sorrow: didn't share it with anyone – neither with Aphrodite, nor with the nymphs and mermaids, your husband's brothers remained in the dark too.

a little human girl shedding tears by the huge waves.

an unhappy goddess, forever imprisoned in an cold palace, surrounded by hypocritical deities, in the iron grip of an unloved husband, eaten alive by sadness and suffocating hopelessness of her position.

none of them saw you as an equal: you were only a curious little thing, a way to dispel eternal divine boredom, and the Olympians, of course, did not bother to hide this fact.

you didn't know what your husband found in you, and you didn't want to. sometimes you wished that back then, many, many years ago, he would have left you in that temple, or that you would run from the garden in terror, or anything. anything.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

you knew your place well.

by his side, always, no matter what. from the very day when you stood at the altar and did not dare to raise your eyes to your fiance, you were no longer anything human.

from that moment, you became an ornament, a property, a beautiful doll. nothing more.

Poseidon wanted to see you happy – and you smiled, laughed, you did everything that you thought he would like.

are you satisfied? please tell me you're happy. I'm scared.

scared.

your husband allowed you the freedom he thought his property could have, and you greedily soaked up every drop of it.

you're lucky, you told yourself, you're very, very lucky. It could have been worse. any other girl would give her soul to be in your place, – repeated, looking at your own reflection in the cold glitter of jewelry.

you must be like it yourself. a thing. a thing, of course, must have an owner, and a thing cannot be sad.

Poseidon's cold hand rests on your waist, pulls you into his arms, and you do not allow yourself to resist: you exhale into his neck, placing your small palms on his broad back.

your spouse is purring contentedly.

he's happy. you can relax a little.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

sea nymphs comb your hair, weave pearls into thin braids, fold strands into an intricate hairstyle.

"what's bothering you, madam?" – the lady of the seas does not bother to answer, your dead calm gaze wanders over the high ceilings, walls and huge windows of your chambers.

a common topic of idle conversation among the Olympians was Poseidon's boundless adoration for his charming wife. cruel god who fell in love with a mere mortal – what a beautiful story.

even the ocean itself seemed to dote on you. whenever the warm waves caressed your feet on the coast, your dried-up insides were filled with melancholy. your body was here, in Atlantis, which became a prison for you, and your soul, which remained to pain in your chest human, floated far away. your tired mind wandered, and you are a little girl again, and once again the bright sun warms your childishly plump cheeks, and in your hands are colorful flowers, and the kind grandpa from the temple strokes your head.

Poseidon will be coming for you soon – as always.

as always, you will talk about something, laugh, sitting on his lap in the throne room. or in one of the living rooms, or in the bedroom – you were not allowed to leave him without permission.

you flinched when you felt his strong hand on your shoulder.

Poseidon smirked.

his wife is not going anywhere. she will stay with him.

forever.

not the best one of my works but uh well I felt like posting something

maaybe will be deleted since it doesn't look as good as I thought it would be in english

btw thinking about writing tartaglia fic soo the next one is probably gonna be genshin man again

thanks for reading!!

[luvvyouforever]

matchmaker, matchmaker - azriel x reader

↳ mor drags azriel to velaris's resident matchmaker, only for him to fall for her instead of his potential suitors.

↳ no major warnings apply! just some fluff and cuteness. not grammar or spell checked. sorry hehe

↳ requests are open! check bio.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

azriel and mor sat at a cafe table in the heart of velaris, steam rising from the tea cups in front of each of them. this was not an uncommon occurence by any means and the pair frequented the many shops and restaurants throughout the town. however, this time, there was an air of tension between them which caused their waitress to carefully place their drinks away from the edges of the table.

"you're telling me you won't even consider seeing her? do you know all that she's done for velaris, az?"

"she's just high fae, mor. she's not some prophecy teller that can see mating bonds between people. i don't understand what she could even do for me."

ah, yes. the topic of conversation was azriel's love life and mor was desperately trying to convince the spymaster to see her friend, the matchmaker of velaris.

what azriel was saying was true. she did not have some special power that allowed her to see the invisible string connecting mates. she could not look into her mind and pull out the best partner for someone. she just knew how to read people and how to do it well. she was responsible for a lot of the matches in velaris, even predicting nesta and cassian long before anyone else could.

"you're lonely, azriel. i can tell! you want to dance with someone at rita's and have a date to parties just as bad as anyone else. you just won't admit it," mor declared. her voice softened and she continued, "i want what's best for you, az. we all do. will you see her for me? please? even if nothing works out."

azriel sighed and took a drink of his tea which was still too hot for his mouth. damn mor and her awareness of the people in her life. and damn him for the way he'd give in to her so easily. "fine," he mumbled. "i will try. but no promises."

that next week, azriel came back from a trip to the mortal lands and immediately, mor was at the door to his room, badgering him about the meeting she set up for later that day. she declared that he could not reschedule or miss the meeting and that he should dress in something nice.

begrudgingly, azriel took a long bath to make sure he looked and smelled fine enough to get a potentially good match from mor's friend. he chose more "normal" clothing as instructed by mor and flew down to the bright townhouse fast enough to reach the door just as his appointment was set to begin.

she surely sensed him because before he even got the chance to knock, she threw the door open and greeted him.

"azriel, right? spymaster of the high lord's court," she said sweetly. "i am quite honored to have you in my home."

azriel felt too awkward for his own good and just nodded with as polite of a smile as he could muster.

"come on! come on!" she ushered him into her home which was brightly decorated in all sorts of eclectic decor, a lot of it being hearts and other love motifs. "can i get you anything?" she asked. "water? tea? snacks? wine?"

"no...no. i'm good, thanks," he said, quieter than he meant to. his eyes raked over the matchmaker, finding her to be a lot younger and more spry than he imagined. mor spoke so highly of her that he thought she must be ancient, having made matches for velaris since the dawn of time. she was also quite beautiful and the way she spoke caused some odd feelings in azriel's chest that he didn't like. his shadows noticed his attraction to her too as they whipped around his chest before hiding behind him, sometimes whispering things in his ear.

"suit yourself," she joked. she sat down on a large armchair and gestured to the matching one in front of her. azriel obediently sat down and watched her moves. she pulled out a frilly notebook from a drawer along with a pen. "has mor told you anything about what i do?"

"not really," azriel admitted. "just praises your name and forces her friends to come to her." the matchmaker laughed and azriel felt incredibly proud of himself for making her laugh.

"well, i just want to know a couple things about you. nothing crazy. just your inner thoughts and desires. and i take that information and compare it to other people and see what comes from it! simple, easy, and usually pain free but i have a feeling you may be a little more introverted than most." azriel shrugged in response. "so, my first question is what are your must-haves in a relationship?"

azriel fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he thought about the question. nobody had ever asked him that before and he honestly hadn't even thought about it. "um...someone who's nice. understanding, i guess. i have a lot of responsibilities in my job so someone who doesn't mind that i'm gone a lot," he thought for a second more. "what do people usually say?"

the matchmaker thought for a moment. "well, i would say my must-haves are patience, kindness...someone who's fine with staying inside," she paused and smiled, "definitely has to own some kind of awesome ancient sword or blade that i can play with."

azriel clocked her statement as a joke but some part of him, deep down inside, wishes that he had truth-teller displayed on his chest for her to see. he was patient, he was a homebody, he was...relatively kind. oh god...what was he thinking?

"all jokes, of course. but really, it's just anything you want in a partner. maybe you want them to be strong and abrasive and can hold their own. it's all up to you, azriel."

she moved on to the next question, which he was very grateful for. this one, however, was harder than the last. "what are you looking for here? do you want me to hunt down your potential mate? do you want something fun and casual? committed? i can do it all."

azriel felt like she was stripping back his layers, one by painful one. all to find someone he can kiss. this was crazy! and he didn't even know her name. "i don't really know, honestly. i...i guess my mate but that seems hard considering it could be anyone. i don't really desire anything. mor just made me come here."

she leaned forward and her big eyes seemed to look into his heart. "i know that's not true, azriel. everyone wants something. you have this...look in your eye that tells me you really want this to work out, that you want to believe in this. you just have to be open with me, 'kay?"

azriel let out a breathy chuckle. "how can i open when i don't even know your name or anything else about you?"

she thought for a second before nodding in agreement. she laid the notebook down on the side table and leaned back. "fair, i guess. my name is y/n, i have lived in velaris all my life, i enjoy pastries, reading, and tea, i started matchmaking as a silly way to keep my friends and i entertained until it started working too much to be a coincidence. i spend all my time finding love for other people but haven't found the one for me. ironic, isn't it?" she smiled at azriel. "there. does that make you feel a bit better?" he nodded. "good. now, let me repeat my question."

azriel and y/n continued their conversation, knocking out the questions she had prepared with relative ease. he felt comfortable opening up to her and being honest about his desires for love. he was completely unused to expressing his feelings like that but it came to him easily in her presence. the way she easily leaned in, eyes focused and gaze unwavering...it did something to him.

eventually, though, the questions ended and azriel knew he had to leave her home. he stalled on the last question, having her reword it over and over even though all she had asked was what his habits at home were like.

"well, azriel, thank you for answering all my questions. from here, i will start comparing your answers to other people i've met with and i will reach out to you with your first match up. you'll tell me if you're interested and if you aren't, we'll move on to the next!"

azriel panicked internally at her words which clearly signaled the end of their conversation. he rose at the same time as her but subconsciously placed his body in front of hers so that she'd have to step around him to leave the room. "so, do i come see you again at all? or...or is this it?" he cursed himself for sounding so awkward.

she laughed. "you can if that is what you prefer. if you want to talk about your dates and how they went then i don't care to. did you enjoy this a little more than you anticipated?" she joked.

he nodded and scratched the back of his neck. crap...crap, crap! he had to do something, right? she was single, she said so. but is it wrong to ask the matchmaker on a date? after she poured so much work into finding him a match? he thought for a second, eyes trained on her. in his ears, his shadows whispered encouragingly. this is it...come on!

"is everything okay, azriel?" she asked innocently.

"so i know that this whole thing was to find me a match but i actually really enjoy your time and i think you're beautiful so would you want to go on a date with me instead of sending me on dates with people that i couldn't care less about?" his words came out at lightning speed and he was pleasantly surprised that she understood everything.

a blush came to her cheeks and it matched the pink and red hearts around the room. "seriously?" she asked. he shyly nodded. "i'd love to. tomorrow night? you come by?"

he breathed out a sigh of relief. "yes, tomorrow night. thank you."

the two of them made their way to the door.

"so, no matches at all? not even helga down the street in the butcher shop? she's been looking for someone for yearssss," she said in a sing-song voice.

"cauldron, no. i want you." he was shocked at the confidence that leaked through his words. she blushed again and rose on her toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

"i'll see you tomorrow. tell mor that my services worked, if you'd be so kind." azriel flew off then with no intentions of telling mor anything that happened.

[auxfeed]

(This is kind of a second part to my contract-story as one of my followers wished for a continuation. But it also can be read seperately, of course. Enjoy!)

Oh you sick little piggy, what have you done? You just signed your fate and your own death. The ink on the contract is dry now, so there will never be a way back. This is it: you are my property now. My death feedee to fatten until the end... YOUR end.

Wll then, take your fucking clothes off, hog, and throw them in the trash over there. You won't need them ever again as you'll stay naked from now on, just like you agreed to in our contract. Oh, I like your heavy breathing you got just from stripping naked for me. Is little piggy exhausted from all the fat it grew already? Is little piggys' butt too wide for this tent-like pants? Or that belly too heavy for a long stand? Don't worry, hog, it'll all be over soon. All the pain, all the exhaustion. Although, actually, the real exhaustion comes through my feeding. And pain... lord... you'll experience so much pain now for your last years now. It'll be so much fun - at least for me.

Now, move your blubber over here and step on the scale. Yeah, I know, you can't read the number on it because of your huge, hanging gut. That's ok, none of your predecessors could. Let me just do this for you. Oh lord, you're definitely a big one. Piggy ate well, didn't it? Little piggy got a starting weight of already 480lbs. But still piggy wants to grow for me, doesn't it? Piggy wants to get fed and become much, much fatter, huh? Of course, you do. We'll, better waste no time then. Hurry up,pig, and waddle down the floor. Take your time and better take a look out of the window to see the beautiful sun and the blue sky out there. It'll be the last time...

Well, this is it: the stairs to my basement. The place you wanted to live so desperately since we first wrote. Here, take my hand, pig, and let me help and lead you downstairs. Oh, how it must hurt, when such a heavy body of yours crushes your poor knees with each little step. I do believe you, that it has to be so hard to move such an amount of fat even for a inch. Wobble wobble, makes the belly, huh? But don't worry, you are nearly done and... it's a one-way-walk for you anyway.

Yeah, fatty, you made it. Welcome to your new home! Just waddle those little fat feet of yours to your extra-wide bariatric bed. Good piggy, you do so well. Is your belly heavy? Are your thighs too thic to walk? Yes? Should we lay you down then and chain you to the bedframe like you agreed in the contract? We'll better do. Here, let me make room for you. These will be the last steps you'll take forever and I want you to feel them. I want you to get nervous, frightened, excited, anxious, glad, finally satisfied - all at the same time. Good piggy, move your blubber! And now... heave yourself up!

This was it, piggy. These were your last steps. This is the place you'll stay in for the rest of your days. I'll feed you down here, you'll grow for me down here and - of course - you'll die down here. Now you finally are what you ever wanted to be: a real, serious death feedee. With a feeder that fattens you until your heart stops beating. Congrats, piggy! Let me just fix those chains to your wrists and ankles and then the fun begins...!

[starryevermore]

head full of petals: meet cute (1) ✧ eris vanserra

head full of petals ✧ an eris vanserra anthology | ao3

pairing: eris vanserra x tamlin’s sister!fem!reader; tamlin’s sister!fem!reader x original male character (brief)

series summary: it is not easy to be a female in prythian. it is even more difficult when you’re the daughter of a high lord. the expectations are great, and the punishments for failure are even greater. all you have known for your entire life is falling in line. yet, when you are expected to marry another, you choose to do something for yourself: run into the arms of your mate. or, a series of interconnected oneshots surrounding the life and times of eris vanserra and his blossom. 

chapter summary: in which you meet your mate, the first son of the high lord of autumn.

word count: 1,821

chapter warnings?: flirting, fluff, pet name (blossom), not proofread.

 A female’s job, your father, Hamish, always told you, was to be seldom seen and never heard. While your brothers were allowed to learn from him, to attend Court meetings and to learn how to one day take his place as High Lord of Spring, you were expected to remain put. To focus on your embroidery or your tending to your garden. Even when you gardened, you were not allowed to get your hands dirty. You could clip a few dead ends, water a few bushes, but that was the extent of it all. Anything further would be an embarrassment to Hamish, and he hated to be embarrassed. 

You supposed, that was why you and your younger brother Tamlin got along so well. Tamlin was, in not so many words, an embarrassment to the family. Well, perhaps that was too harsh. But it was clear to all that Hamish harbored little love for his youngest son. Tamlin was unlike Finley and Alistair. He was the runt of the little, and the least likely to ever inherit the title of High Lord. Tamlin was not worth Hamish’s breath. Neither you nor him fit into the perfect puzzle Hamish tried to carefully to piece together. And so, you both were cast aside. Left forgotten. 

Though, you supposed you were not all forgotten. As the daughter of a High Lord, you were expected to marry well and to be a dutiful wife. In the last few decades, all attention you received from Hamish was dedicated to the pursuit of finding you a worthy husband. A few months previous, his search finally turned up fruitful. Dashiell Buchanan, the eldest son of Hamish’s favorite courtier. A handsome male, to be sure. You were less sure, however, of his kindness. 

There was no proof, no evidence, that Dashiell was a cruel male. But males like him, males in positions of power, no matter how small, seldom let such cruelty be openly known. You did not wish to find out he was such a male after your wedding night. Your only saving grace, though, would be to find your mate, who had not been made known for last couple hundred years. Hope as you might, you knew he would not come in time. 

So, instead, you busied yourself with the few hobbies appropriate for a woman of your station as you awaited your wedding day. That was how you found yourself curled up on a chair in the drawing room, deep in concentration as you tied French knots. You did not hear anyone slip in until you were being spoken to. 

“Ah, Spring’s daughter. I was beginning to think you a myth,” a slow drawl sounded. 

You lifted your head, breath caught in your throat at the male before you. He was tall, perhaps taller than any of the males in your family. His auburn hair cascaded down his shoulders, a waterfall of fire. Amber eyes looked you up and down. You were suddenly aware that you looked far too comfortable in the presence of a noble son, so you stood, smoothing out your skirts. “I was not aware I was being looked for.”

“Who wouldn’t look for a female they say is so beautiful, she must be blessed by the Mother? I understand why your father has kept you hidden away, now that I have been so fortunate as to see your face.” He offered a wicked smile. “Lesser males have fought wars over lesser beauties. We are too soon out of the last war to ever risk another.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. You fought the urge to pick at the thread of your dress. Instead, you tucked your hands into each other and held them in front of you so as to create a barrier between yourself and the charming male. “Do I get to know the name of the male so desperate to win my favor?”

The male let out a chuckle. “How about we make it a game. Three guesses.”

You smiled. “What do I get if I’m correct?”

“Is the pleasure of my company not enough for you? Greedy girl. I should have expected as such from a High Lord’s daughter.” he said. For a moment, he pretended to think. “Let us see…If you are correct, you can ask me for any favor and I shall do it without complaint.”

“And if I lose?”

“You sit at my side during dinner.”

Your smile seemed to grow. Though you did wish to know his name, a part of you also wanted to lose. Maybe if you got to sit close enough to him, you could learn if he was as warm as he was making you feel. “I accept your terms.”

“Then guess away, beautiful blossom.”

Tapping a finger on your chin, you began to weigh your options. “My father told me he was expecting a visit from the Autumn Court this morning. You are too young to be the High Lord, so I shall not waste a guess on that. Nor can you be Lady Autumn. All seven sons, however, inherited the color of her hair. I think….I shall go with Lucien.”

The male barked out a laugh, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. ���Lucien is hardly older than a babe! Try again.”

“Hmm, yes I suppose he is too young. Perhaps I should hedge my bets and aim for the middle. Perhaps Crispin, or maybe Heath?”

“Shall I count those as your remaining too guesses?” he asked with a wicked grin. 

“Hush, I’m thinking out loud!” you giggled. You felt so light with him. You had not thought it possible to feel so at ease with a male, much less you hardly even knew. “I shall go with Heath.”

He grinned, and took a step closer to you. “Not by a long shot.”

“Well, I have aimed for the youngest, and for the middle. Perhaps I should aim for the eldest now. Yes, I suppose I shall.” You stood a little straighter and declared, “You are Eris Vanserra.”

Eris stepped closer to you. A few more steps, and you were sure to be caught in a most scandalous position. You didn’t seem to care, though. “And what favor would you ask of me?”

“It’s no fun if I waste it now. I would prefer to save it for a rainy day.”

“And make me your eternal slave?”

You took a step toward him. Never before had you felt so emboldened. Hamish would have your head if he saw you now. “Something tells me you would quite enjoy that.”

Before Eris could say anymore, before he could step closer and ruin you for anyone else, a series of footsteps sounded down the hall. You took a quick step back. You needed distance between you and Eris. Dashiell entered the room first, freezing as he took in the closeness between yourself and Autumn’s Heir. Even with the space you put between yourself and Eris, it was not enough to stop suspicion from being aroused.

Perhaps you would find out sooner than you hoped if your betrothed was a cruel man. His eyes flashed as he stalked over to Eris, fists clenching into fists. 

“Ah, I see your daughter has already become acquainted with my eldest son.”

No, no, no. This was even worse. Your eyes snapped over to Beron and Hamish as they entered the room, Finley, Alistair, and the other sons of Autumn following after. You prayed that your panic did not show on your face. Something began to tug in your chest, desperate. For what, you weren’t sure. But it was beginning to hurt. How much trouble would you bring, how embarrassed would Hamish be, if you excused yourself to see a healer?

Eris stepped forward, ignoring your betrothed, and said to Beron and Hamish, “I arrived early than anticipated. I came to the drawing room to wait, when I realized the room was not empty. I was introducing myself to—”

Your chest snapped. “Mate.”

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Hamish’s brows raised. Beron seemed to consider you as if you were a meal. Finley and Alistair looked puzzled. Eris’s brothers sneered at each other, and him, as if disappointed that they weren’t the ones you were mated to. And Dashiell— 

A fist flew toward Eris’s face. Eris dodged it, easily, and caught the next fist that came. He gripped Dashiell’s fist so hard, twisted his arm just so, that the male crumpled to the floor. Eris snarled—the kind male you were just speaking to disappearing. 

“This is not a fight you shall win,” Eris said, baring his teeth. 

Beron turned to Hamish. “It seems we have more to discuss than trade negotiations, old friend.”

“She is betrothed,” Hamish managed. He watched as you stepped toward Eris, a hand resting on his bicep. Slowly, your mate released his grip on your betrothed. He stayed positioned between you and Dashiell, though, as if worried that the male would attack you next. 

“A betrothal is nothing compared to a mating bond,” Beron dismissed with a wave. “As I see it, she is now the property of Autumn.”

Eris tensed, just slightly so. 

“I cannot end her betrothal,” Hamish said. 

Beron raised a brow. “I would hate to invoke a blood duel, but it is within our right. Don’t let us end such a long friendship over something so trivial.”

“In Spring,” Hamish amended, “only the parties to be wed may end the betrothal.”

“I refuse,” Dashiell snarled, still knelt on the ground. 

All eyes turned to you, but you only saw Eris. He watched you carefully, trying to gauge whether you cared for the sorry excuse of a male on the floor. Dashiell, however, ceased to exist in your eyes. “Mate,” you repeated. “I want my mate.”

Beron, from the corner of your eye, seemed smug, but Hamish knew there was more to be done. He urged, voice tight, “You have to say the words.”

“I forsake my betrothal to Lord Dashiell Buchanan,” you said without a moment’s hesitation. 

Dashiell growled, but to everyone else in the room, he seemed to have disappeared. Ceased to matter if he wasn’t to wed the daughter of Spring. 

“Spring’s females don’t all seem to have heads full of petals,” Beron said. “You should be proud your daughter has any sense, Hamish.”

Hamish stared at you. He never looked at you with any ounce of love before, but now it almost felt like there was contempt. Was he truly embarrassed at you finding your mate? The circumstances weren’t the greatest—you could have done without the spectacle. But did you deserve the hateful look in his eyes? “You have until sundown to gather your things,” he said. “From this day forward, you are the burden of Autumn.”

You did not see Spring again until long after Hamish had passed. 

[vanilleandclove]

the meadow in which you lay | 0

ser erryk cargyll x arryn!reader | prologue: the queen of love and beauty

Ser Erryk Cargyll and his twin brother, Arryk, were both renowned and prideful- in their own right- knights, members of the Kingsguard at just eight and ten, their reputation precedes them.

word count: 1.2k | warnings: mentions of sexual encounters, brief description of violence, viserys is in fact canon in this universe

next

As King Viserys held a tourney to honor Queen Aemma being with child to which strengthened his ascension to the throne as King Jaehaerys I named him heir rather than his cousin, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen who never was. Your father and mother, along with your brothers and the company of you attended the great council. As one of Rhaenrya's ladies in waiting, you were delighted to attend such an honor. To uphold centuries of traditions and of course, sneak a glance at the newly knighted Cargyll twins. Many can not depict the twins from each other, but you could. As Erryk always made your bones burn and heart leap from your chest, Arryk would smile at your presence platonically, a simple nod.

"You are aware of the oaths they both swore to my father are you not?" Rhaenrya smiled as she elbowed your forearm that was resting on the chair arm, Alicent to her left, as you sat on her right. Your mother always told you to never be too close to a Hightower, specifically that of Otto's line. Alicent was kind, akin to her mother.

"I know of it" you slyly commented, catching yourself fantasizing of the man who's held your heart since he was inducted into the Kingsguard, House Cargyll wasn't a great house as your was, the Arryn's always being interwind with the Targaryen's as Aemma was your father's sister. Though, House Cargyll was still noble, your father would have married you off to Erryk without question had he not swore oaths bounded to the King. "It is just a simple crush" you continued, biting your lip as the knight gathered his armor to dress into.

"An infatuation is what it is," Alicent chuckled, "Though I must say, out of all the knights, Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk must be the easiest on the eyes- no offense to that of Daemon 'Nyra".

An infatuation that will lead you to an unwanted vow of celibacy, you might as well become a Septa, perhaps the Wall needs a woman to help. As you twiddled your rings and anxiously picked the skin off of your fingers, you took a swig of wine as the tourney was to start at any moment. Wondering if the heavier the emotions you feel, the better chance of the knight of your dreams feeling them as well, wondering as well if your feelings were a curse. Honor is the death of love; love is the death of honor.

Truth be told, Ser Erryk, before his knighthood, was to be your husband. As the several stolen kisses when just six and ten, led to the restraint of lust and bedding. You could not explain your feelings in words, knowing you'd falter to perfectly describe them. The knight knew how to make you heated, heated in the terms of being overwhelmed with lust to the point of pain. The knight knew what made you laugh, gregariously, what made you cry to the point of wailing. The knight knew your curves even with the layers of dressing. An honor only the two of you know of, knowing if you told Alicent, she'd tell her father. If you told Rhaenyra, you'd fear not being able to contain the feelings you hold so deeply between you and him.

"Queen Aemma has begun her labors!" King Viserys proudly shouted, "Let the tourney begin!". You heard Princess Rhaenys and her Lord-husband, Corlys, spite the games, asking if this is how we should celebrate something as beautiful as a birth, with mindless violence. Behind you sat her children, Laenor and Laena, two beautiful and driven children around the age of Rhaenyra, you, and Alicent.

Staring off into the distance, you gripped your own hand, breath quickening to the point of your breasts being awkwardly exposed to the knight in front of you; Alicent took note to the way the blood rushed to your cheeks, had she be in the same position as you, she'd be sweltering.

"Lady Y/N Arryn, may I kindly ask for your favor?" Ser Erryk smiled at you brightly, his eyes, kissed by the ocean, they shined brightly in the sun.

You kindly sat up, grabbing your favor, before kissing it and latching it on his lance. "Shall your stead and you win gloriously, I beg you to not forget the Lady whom granted your favor". Erryk smirked slightly at your comment, taking in your now more matured body, it's been several moons since he's last seen you, granted the last, the lights were rather dim and your complete upper torso was bare. Nipples perked with lust, his mouth leaving bits on your chest as his hands fondled your bottom half, being careful as to not penetrating you and potentially taking your maidenhead. Your cunt was desirably soaked, your moans sinfully bouncing off the halls of stone, praying the moment were to last forever. If only Viserys swore him off to the City Watch, you'd be swollen with his child.

"Is there something we do not know about?" Rhaenyra noted with lightheartedness as you sat down.

"A woman- a Lady- does not share her bedroom details 'Nyra" you answered only leading her curiosity to run wild, she simply leaned in closer to your shoulder to whisper.

"Did he take your maidenhead?" Rhaenyra questioned, curious as to what her cousin was sinfully capable of since the last time she saw her for her name day of six and ten.

"Gods no," You laughed in reply, hearing the joust continue as Ser Erryk reigned victoriously, winking at you as you locked eyes. "Though I must admit, the knight does has hands of a god" you teased to your cousin.

Rhaenyra sat silent the rest of the tourney, as Ser Criston Cole eventually reigned victor, you quietly made your way to the knight's tents, as the brutality that took place, you'd rather find solace in talking to the one knight whom could bring joy under any circumstance.

"Thank you for asking for my favor Ser Erryk," you spoke up, nearly stunning the knight who was accustomed to the former silence, "Though you were unhorsed, your efforts and vigor will be remembered".

"You speak as if I am dying soon Lady Arryn" Erryk chuckled at the comment, "Any word of the Queen's condition?".

"Surprisingly no, granted I cannot find my dear uncle or that of Rhaenyra" you answered, lightly twiddling your thumbs.

"You're nervous" Erryk pointed out, only leading you to correct your posture, "Not that m'Lady, your thumbs- you only rip skin and play with them when you're nervous".

You were shocked the dear knight remember your quirks, had it been so long and his training leading to a foggy eclipse on his memory, the scars that litter his body like a ballad lead you to wonder how much he has changed, better yet how much has he stood the same.

"It's a bad habit Ser" you lightly speak up, humbled by his acknowledgement of your habits, "I was worried".

There was a pregnant pause before Erryk stood up from his makeshift sitting arrangement, a tree stump, his armor long discard, he reached for your hands before speaking up.

"Why did you seek the pleasure of my company love? Your ladies must be wondering where you must be" the knight questioned, staring intently in the eyes of the woman whom holds his soul.

"Let them wonder" you whispered to him, cupping his cheek, feeling the harsh stubble grow, the stubble that once scraped the inner portion of your thighs as you climaxed on the owner's chin.

The calm before the storm, held in your hands as the knight stared into your eyes, the love that mended your soul yet broke your bones.

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Strange human emotions

Summary: Castiel has been experiencing some rather strange emotions, especially ones that revolve around you.

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: No one really writes about Cas, and it’s a shame because him, Sam and Dean are my absolute favorite. But I hope you enjoy ;)

༺═────────────═༻

He could feel it coming up again, that same burning feeling in his chest that keeps him up deep into the night. Not that he can sleep to begin with, but still the feeling invaded his every thought as he waited for you and the brothers to wake up. 

Cas didn’t know how to explain it, these strange human emotions that he had learned over the years, he didn’t understand them. He knew the ones that you and the boys had taught him, how it helped him learn to express how he felt to others. And he was truly grateful for it. 

But, the ones that he was never taught always worried him. Like when he could feel when someone is staring at him, even though nobody is in the room with him. Or even worse when you are near, or when you touch his shoulder when you walk past him, or how about when you speak to him so beautifully that he feels his stomach churning into a weird fluttery feeling. 

There must be something wrong, Cas would conclude, pacing the bunker’s library in the dead of night. Maybe you had been taken over by a shapeshifter and this was the universes way of warning him. 

Yeah, that had to be it, but how would he tell Sam and Dean that? For Chucks sake you are one of their closest friends, how could he tell them that they would need to kill you?

No. No, he couldn’t kill you. He just needs to figure it out a bit more by morning, he couldn’t just go on a killing spree. It wouldn’t be right. 

But if you were in danger or you are the danger then he would need to speak to the brothers about this. But, how?

Cas sat across from you and Dean, Sam to his right of the booth as he stared out the fogged window. The falling snow momentarily capturing his attention, the way each flake was built uniquely different from the other. 

It amazed him how something so beautiful could end up in a world like this. 

“Hey, Happy meal.” Dean suddenly spoke up, dragging Cas away from the window. “You gonna focus, or are we gonna have to tell you while we fight the sons of a bitches?”

“I’m focused.” Cas told the older man, his hands coming to rest in his lap. 

“Mhm, yeah sure.” 

Sam cleared his throat, turning his computer to face the others as he began to explain the current case to them. “So, Sophia Cocklen had reported her husband missing, nearly a month ago. And as of three days ago both her brother and eldest son have disappeared as well.”

“Has to have something to do with the men,” you spoke up, dipping a French fry in your ketchup before popping it in your mouth. “Because Sophia’s sister, mother and two daughters hadn’t been touched at all over the past month.”

Sam nodded, clicking on another tab as some police reports popped on screen. “That’s what I thought as well, but the thing is that none of them have any bad records on there name. And…”

Sams voice seemed to drift off, running farther and farther from his ears as the same burning feeling began to arise from his chest. He glanced at you for a quick second, the way you looked at your work and took it seriously. The way your eyes seemed to have a small sparkle in them when you spoke. 

And especially the way your hair slightly fell in front of your eyes, hiding that sparkle that made his stomach erupt. It made him want to reach over the table and push it out of your way, just so he could catch another glimpse of…

You pushed your hair out of your face, halting Cas’s thoughts completely. Why was he thinking that? What were you and the boys talking about? Why did his body’s vessel feel so warm and sweaty? Was it getting hotter? What if you had turned evil? What if this was your way to slowly kill him off?

Him. Castiel, an angel of the Lord. Struck down by a woman that was more than likely possessed by a monster. 

“Cas?” You questioned, facing the angelic being who seemed to be almost in a trance. “You alright? You look like your sweaty.”

Cas pulled at the collar of his trench coat, the feeling of sweat sliding down his neck. Boy, did he hate how the human body can physically act when you don’t need it to. 

“Yes,” He told you rubbing his hands against his pants legs. “Yes I’m fine it’s just a little warm in here is all.”

“Really?” Dean asked, taking a quick sip from his lukewarm coffee. “It’s pretty cold in here to me, what about you Sam? Y/n?”

“Dean.” 

“I’m just saying, you gotta focus in, Cas. You’ve been acting real edgy for the last couple of weeks.”

“I’m fine,” Cas told him, trying not to drag the situation down the rabbit hole. “It’s probably just… allergies.” 

The boys and you shred a quick look with one another, knowing well enough that angels don’t have allergies. “Cassie?” You questioned leaning forward onto the table. “You don’t get allergies.”

Cas felt his face warm up, “That was just the first thing that came to mind.” He told you, his fingers fiddling with one another. “That’s what you all do.”

Dean smacked his lips, letting out a quick ok before continuing with his conversation. “As I was saying we need to go and search every place that these men where last seen at. And normally I would say go by ourselves to save them, but I’m not so sure what we are up against just yet. So Sam and I will head down to the bar the brother was last seen and Cas, you and Y/n can go and search the junkyard.”

Everyone agreed to Deans order, quickly finishing up their lunch before they need to head back out. Well almost everyone agreed. Cas sat there in his seat, pondering if he should pull Dean or Sam aside and ask if these feelings he is getting about you is bad or good. Because he does not want to harm others but at the same time he didn’t want to hurt you either. 

He wanted to beat his head against the table, the thoughts that raced through his mind aggravated him. But what could he do about it? Wait… you and him were going to the junkyard to search for clues of the missing family members, he himself could interrogate you there. But, how?

༺═────────────═༻

At the junkyard, you and Cas kept you voices low, barley speaking a word to one another as you inspected the place. Your flashlight shined about the place, scoping out any and all items that could appear useful for the case. 

“So, Sam said that the dad and son used to work here. Almost like a father-son business, you know?” You told him, shining the light in the angels direction, mindful not to blind him in the eye. 

He nodded, unable to stop the fluttery filling the further he walked with you. It was killing him, he wanted to ask you what you were doing, because he knew for a fact it was neither of the boys. But, at the same time he didn’t know how to bring it up. 

On one hand he could slowly bring up the topic, have a simple conversation before he would ask you. Though, on the other hand, he could just flat out ask you if you were trying to kill him. Because, that’s what it surely felt like. That you were killing him slowly and purposefully.

Cas came to a quick decision, he would hold a conversation with you then ask you. Simple as that, no harm no foul. 

“Cassie?” You asked, that soft voice of yours causing his chest to burn and his stomach to twist into knots. What the hell were you doing to him? “Are you alright-“

“Are you trying to kill me?”

You were shocked by his sudden question, his straightforward tone and seriousness catching you off guard completely. “… No?”

“It sure doesn’t seem that way.” He continued to accuse, folding his arms over his chest like he’d seen Dean do plenty of times before. “Would you care tell why you are trying to kill me?”

“But, I’m not?” You told him, voice uncertain and slightly laced with worthy. “Why would you think that?”

Cas glanced around the junkyard, almost as if the answer was somewhere written in the piles upon piles of junk. “My chest has been burning every time you come close to me, or how about when my stomach make me feel like my vessel is going to induce vomiting. When I know for a fact that I don’t eat anything to make it do so.”

You stood silently, letting the words sink deep into your skin. His chest burned? His stomach felt like he was going to throw up? Why the hell would he have thought that you were trying to kill him? It honestly just sounded like his vessel was sick, or maybe he—

You cut your thoughts short, and it suddenly clicked in your mind. A sly smile gracing your lips as you walked towards the angel. “Oh, Cassie~” You sang out, free hand coming to play with the sleeve of his trench coat. “Do you have a crush on me?”

Cas furrowed his brows, eyes dancing across your face as you came closer. “…No? At least I don’t think so.”

A chuckle left your lips, standing up on your tip toes you gave the angel a quick kiss on his check. Watching as a light blush crept upon his cheeks. “I like you too, Cassie.” You turned back to the junkyard, flashing your light at an empty bathtub and broken mattress, leaving the poor angel stuck in his spot. 

Cas lifted a hand to where you had kissed him, the ghost of your lips making his heart stutter in his chest. Damn you, he thought to himself. Damn you and these strange human emotions. 

[austinbutlerslovers]

Update Feyd Fantasy Finale ⚔️

The finale will be split into THREE parts. 2 will be released ASAP 🙏🏻 and the 3rd TBA (all in final stages of being edited) I wrote so much you guys said let it flow. I’ve literally been typing since then… just awaiting my beautiful proof reader/editor ✍🏼proof reader @faegoddessog 🫦smut consultant @burnthheparaphilia 📖 plot consultant @magicovento

Here you are some sneak peeks ☺️ ♥️ (I split up the smut requests)

‼️Spoilers ahead if you have not read 1-4 ‼️

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4

Thank you for your patience ��🏼☺️

Part 5 Endless Empire NEW!

Feyd Rautha becomes the Baron of Giedi prime and inherits all the responsibilities it entails.

The former Baron Vladimir on his deathbed was enraged at how well you corrupted Feyd. Implanting him with the idea to kill his own uncle in order to ascend as Baron ahead of his time, (keeping you together) . His nephews love and obsession for you disgusts him. But he still wants his favorite prodigy to succeed… just without your interference.

He lays a treacherous plot to separate you from Feyd forever.

Smut requests •Feyd initiating sex while you are distracted• Feyd denying you an orgasm •Feyd restraining himself to be gentle•Feyd addicted to you• Feyd makes love to you

Part 6 Brazen Baron

Feyd Rautha has a massive coronation. Excitement fills the air as his people look forward to a better future for the planet improving beyond his uncles reign.

Feyd begins blurring all the lines of his Harkonnen heritage for you. Everything he has been raised to value crumbles when he’s in your presence. You give him everything he never knew he desired and his infatuation for you becomes even deeper. His Lord in waiting takes notice and fears for his sanity and rational thought.

Will his undying love for you make him a great ruler or a passive counterfeit?

Smut Requets: Sex against a window•sex in the throne room• Dom Feyd •Sub Feyd •Feyd wearing a collar •Feyd being handcuffed for sex•Feyd being whipped(with a crop!)•semi public sex• Feyd BJ•size kink• Feyd willing to give up his kingdom for you• Feyd gives up his kink (what?!

Part 7 Honor & Heir COMPLETE

During your final month of pregnancy you and Feyd are summoned to the Emperors palace on the planet Kaitain by decree. Feyd is upset at any inconveniences to you with his unborn during this fragile time.

You reunite with your Reverend mother in the palatial gardens and a fated decision must be made. The stress of the decision is so great you go into labor. For Feyd his world stops. He drops all of his responsibilities with the Emperor to be by your side.

Requests: Feyd gentle with you•Feyd adoring you•Feyd forgoes his pleasure for your own • face riding• Bene Gesserits kidnapping plot•gender reveal•Feyd as a father

More Input from you guys: ✅Make it longer ✅More talking ✅Feyd loses his kink(Im crying) ✅Happy ending please

⬇️Thank you for the feedback! ♥️😍⬇️

Fic Tag List ⚔️

@faegoddessog @burnthheparaphilia @elvismylove04 @lindszeppelin @obsessedvibee @abswifey @jessica987 @hardcoredisneynerd @austiebuttbutt @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @purejasmine @i5uckersblog @phil2135561 @lovereadingfanfic @steph-speaks @rougegenshin@maloribarnes1999 @meetmeatyourworst @moony-artemis @xxxstormyninixxx @prettypinkblogger @thegabbyh @magicovento @aoi-targaryen @austinswhitewolf @skinny-baby-4eva @mimsie95 @the-wanderer-2022 @jakesullyissopookie @francis-writes @shiranai-atsune @berlinalv @everyonelovesavalet @dacreshoney @caroline334 @szapizzapanda @berlinalv @landlockedmermaid77 @sophroniaclark @moonsoulk @lolllulroofl @emeraldsgirl @larrysdughter28 @alana4610

[shadowdaddies]

Claim Your Throne

Rhysand x Reader

A/N: Ever since I wrote some Rhys head canons including throne sex, I can’t get the idea out of my head. Enjoy

Warnings: nsfw, smut under the cut, throne sex, oral f!receiving, cockwarming, slight exhibitionism, minors dni

It had been weeks since you and Rhys completed the mating bond, but the male was insatiable. You didn’t leave the bedroom for the first week, and hardly left for the week after, until Rhys was called in for problems in Hewn City that needed to be dealt with. 

“I want to take you to the Court of Nightmares before we hold court there, just so you’re prepared, darling,” Rhys informed you after your strategy meeting with the inner circle. “It can be a lot to take in, so I’d like to take you there so that you can be acquainted without Keir’s tainting presence.” You knew you would be comfortable regardless as long as Rhysand was there with you, but it couldn’t hurt to familiarize yourself with the throne room. “Of course, love, let’s go.” No sooner had you responded than Rhys swept you into his arms and away to the Court of Nightmares. 

You arrived in the throne room, struck by awe of the magnificence and darkness that permeated that space. “It’s…beautiful,” you said, not entirely sure if that is how you felt or not. Rhys chuckled lowly next to you, the gravelly sound sending a jolt through you that had you curling your toes. “I don’t know if that is how I would describe it, darling, but it’s certainly more beautiful when illuminated by your presence.” You blushed as Rhys took your hand, guiding you up to the dais where his throne rested.

“In the history of the Night Court, this has been the one and only throne. It is tradition that only the High Lord has ever sat on this throne, and that he takes an oath to kneel to no one.” Rhys’s eyes are burning into you as he speaks; you look at him with anticipation for what he will say next, and the raw heat in his eyes makes you forget how to breathe for a moment. Rhys gestures to the throne, “sit down, darling.”

You step up to the throne and turn around as if you are about to sit, but you are nervous. You’re breaking thousands of years of tradition, and this is Rhys’s court you are potentially disrespecting. You realize your mental shields must have been down when Rhys smiles, stating, “no darling, this is our court now. Claim your throne.” You sit on the throne, surprised by the power you feel as you run your hands along the arm rests and look upon the vast room. 

You look to Rhys, eyes locked on each other as he approaches you with a predatory grace, and sinks to one knee before you. “My love, my High Lady, this throne is yours as it is mine. We will reign over our court together as long as we both live.” He moves to grab your ankle with his hand and begins undoing the straps of your heel. “I have new thrones being made for the both of us, but I wanted to introduce my High Lady on this throne before I dispose of it,” he says, slipping off your shoe and placing a kiss to your ankle, never breaking eye contact. Sliding his hands up your calf to your thigh, Rhys pulls your leg back and hooks it over the arm rest. He follows the same movements with your other shoe and leg, and you are left with only the skirt of your dress that has ridden up, barely keeping you concealed. 

Rhys moves forward to kneel at the base of your throne and slowly moves your dress up to your hips, exposing your bare pussy to the cold air of the room and to Rhys’s hungry gaze. You feel the familiar feel of a talon soft against your mental shields, and you drop them just for Rhys to show you his view of you, sprawled on your throne, emitting unadulterated power. “High Lady of the Night Court, ruler of my lands and my heart,” Rhys speaks into your mind before diving into your center. He eats you out like a man starved, alternating between kitten licks and sucking your clit as he brings his hand to your core, slipping one finger in and instantly curling to the sensitive spot he’s now memorized. You gasp, arching your back off the back of the chair and Rhys smirks at your reaction. He adds another finger and you moan, “FUCK, Rhys.” An image flashes in your mind from Rhys’s view of you gasping and writhing under his touch. “Come for me, darling.” 

Your orgasm crashes into you and your vision blurs, legs shaking as you regain your focus on Rhys, who is now bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth to taste your release. 

When you hold court the next day - sharing your throne with Rhys as you sit in his lap -  you didn’t think you could feel more “acquainted” with the place than you already were, until Rhys decided he was bored during Keir’s ramblings, subtly hitching up the back of your skirt and sliding you onto his hard cock. “Just keeping you warm until we can be alone, darling,” he spoke into your mind as you struggled to stay composed and still on the dais. 

You might have to keep this throne around for the memories.

[written-in-flowers]

At First Glance: (Otto x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Otto Hightower x Fem!OC

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 11k

Summary: Let's go back to the beginning of our Rosebud and her Hightower. Ser Otto is slotted to marry the young Tyrell girl, expecting resentment and disgust. However, his young bride proves him wrong quickly and erotically.

Tags: arranged marriage, old/young relationship (consensual), pool sex, poolside sex, public sex, oral (m. and f. giving/receiving), teasing, dirty talk, nipple play, breast worship, facials (kind of), tongue fucking, first time, a bit of coaxing on both parts but it's all consensual.

Masterlist!

***

They’d traveled for nearly two months before they finally saw it in the distance. Sitting high on a verdant hill, the Manderly river flowing nearby, was Highgarden. Seat of House Tyrell, it was a stone castle full of life, laughter, and light. White stones made up the high walls circulating the castle up top, each layer growing in height. Fields of golden roses stretched across the land, the fresh air flowing through to blow their sweet fragrance. The scene of natural beauty was such a stark contrast to the wretched, crowded, infested King’s Landing far away. Being near Highgarden put one in a completely different world, and Otto could see the appeal. How could someone want to live in King’s Landing or Oldtown when they had the flowers and entertainment of Highgarden? 

Otto thought about this as the wheelhouse pushed through the land towards the castle beyond. The Harvest Moon Festival was the biggest event in all of The Reach; the occasion was made twice as special due to The King’s progress happening to travel right through. Lord Gareth Tyrell responded to his raven with enthusiasm, as he looked forward to hosting The King’s party as well as seeing his childhood friend, Otto. House Tyrell were wardens of The Reach; House Hightower reigned in Oldtown, sacred place of The Citadel, The Starry Sept, and a notable trading port. The two great houses often mingled together through trade and politics. His older brother, Hobert, told him he’d recently drawn up new terms for House Tyrell to keep their families’ trade agreement going. The best way to seal this deal is through marriage. Hobert already married off his daughter and two sons. Otto had Alicent, who married King Viserys and was now queen; his son, Gwayne, was married with children as well. Hobert, having a living wife, turned his eyes to Otto. 

Widowed several years ago, he never considered finding another wife. No woman he met compared to Leyla, who’d been the light of his life. Being two-and-fifty, he told Hobert he’s too old to remarry; he had no desire. Hobert doubled down and reminded him of the importance. He thought he’d get some say in how his life went on after Leyla. But, he knew that his family must go on, and trade relations must remain on good terms. But still, it was madness. Gareth must be surely suffering from a bout of desperation, and will change his mind as he is so prone to doing. The offer might’ve been made on a whim; another fanciful idea his old friend made and will regret upon Otto’s arrival. Yet, for now, he must settle with the idea of marriage once more. 

Hobert told him he and Gareth can discuss dowry and dates when he’s chosen his bride. From what Otto recalled, Gareth and his wife, Jalissa, have six children: three boys and three girls. The youngest girl is only an infant, hardly fit to marry. The second eldest is one-and-ten, Aemond’s age and still not fit for a man like him. That left his eldest daughter, who was three-and-twenty. Lady Y/N Tyrell, “The Rose of Highgarden”, “Flower of The Reach”, “The Golden Flower”. Tales of your beauty and grace ran from Highgarden to Oldtown, and from Oltown to King’s Landing. You’d never been seen at court, but this was mainly your father’s doing. Gareth was very protective of his first-born daughter; Otto heard he turned down offers from younger suitors for the pettiest of reasons. He must admit he was surprised when Gareth wrote to Hobert about a possible marriage pact. He’d written a raven for Otto as well. He’d extolled his daughter’s obvious surface beauty, but her virtues and talents as well. 

‘Y/N is my most precious flower. I’d only entrust her to the noblest of men.’ 

You’ll be disappointed, no doubt. Perhaps when he and Gareth spoke in private, he could convince him to make a match with another Hightower or related member. Marriage might not be needed at all. They’ve made such agreements without it before now. He couldn’t marry again. Not because of the ceremonies or feasts or events beforehand, but because then you will carry the surname ‘Hightower’. You’d be ‘Lady Hightower’. Leyla was Lady Hightower. Lady Leyla Hightower. He pictured her even now as the wheelhouse passed through the final gate into Highgarden. He remembered the slender beauty with ginger curls and large brown eyes, who cheered for him the loudest and held his hand through the difficult times. It made his heart ache. Even if you are beautiful, there is no guarantee he’d like you or that you two had anything in common. 

The wheelhouse stopped when they reached the stone roundabout in front of the doors of Highgarden. On the walls, he saw crawling vines of roses and small flowers going up from the ground; more of them bloomed in the bushes lining the courtyard and the large fountain in the middle. He saw armored guards in silver with green cloaks standing by the steps, and a long green and gold carpet leading from door to bottom step. Right in front of the entrance, he spotted Gareth. A large man with dark brown hair, his mustache had grown thicker since Otto last saw him and gray hairs now mixed with the brown. Beside him stood Lady Jalissa, a willowy woman with auburn hair braided down her back, holding an infant swaddled in a green blanket. The children who remained at home stood alongside them: heir to Highgarden, Matthos, stood a tall as his father, a man grown with his own family; the twins, Loras and Horas, who were Aegon’s age of six-and-ten; Elise, the second eldest daughter who wore a dress of pale pink and gold with her thick hair braided, and the eldest daughter, you. His stomach churned as he forced himself to ignore you. 

His nerves tried overcoming him as the wheelhouse stopped in front of the party. No, he wouldn’t let himself be anxious. Otto took a deep breath and stepped out of the wheelhouse. The warm breeze coming through didn’t feel unpleasant; it felt quite relaxing. How can an old man like him take you away from such a beautiful home? You must hate him for it. 

“Otto!” Gareth held out his arms to Otto, and beamed brightly. Otto stepped forward and the two men embraced, laughing and patting one another on the back. “You look well, Otto. You look well,” he commented, “I just finished writing a letter to Hobert. He’s been badgering me about the damn trade routes! He tells me bandits and outlaws have been stopping his export cargo.”

“He mentioned the same to me as well. Let’s hope our alliance might help things.” Hobert often scolded his younger brother about not caring more about trade between Highgarden and Oldtown. He looked down the line to Jalissa and the infant in her arms. “Lady Jalissa,” he smiled at her, kissing the back of one of her hands, “You look lovely as ever.”

“Highgarden welcomes you, Otto,” she beamed back. “I’d like you to meet our newest Tyrell: Adeline.”

“How charming,” he said, tickling the baby’s chin and watching her smile. “She looks like you.”

“Thank the Gods,” Gareth added, “If she looked anything like me, I’d have a hard time marrying her off.” The three friends laughed before he said, “Speaking of marrying off…Ser Hightower, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

Radiant. That was the only word he could find to describe you. Everything about you was soft and gentle. It shined. You shined. Pretty eyes blinked up at him shyly, and your soft lips curled into a smile. Your dress was a painted gold vest with short sleeves, with a scarf underneath to cover your chest. The skirt was a fine light blue fabric that hung to your feet. His eyes spent time taking in all your features. For once, rumors spoke truthfully. The Rose of Highgarden was the epitome of beauty. 

“Ser Hightower,” you said in a soft spoken voice, curtsying for him. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“And you, Lady Y/N.” 

Leyla didn’t speak softly or show signs of shyness when they met. She’d been bold and out-spoken. She made a statement simply by the way she stood. You took charge in a different way. Gareth and Jalissa introduced their children. Seeing young Elise, he knew Gareth will propose a match between the king’s household and his own. Gareth never missed an opportunity to make alliances or connections to other great houses. He finally led them all inside the castle. Tapestries, fine art, and sculptures decorated every hall. He saw the vines from outside creeping through windows and onto the inner walls. Any earthy scent the rooms might have was blown away by the fresh air coming in through the wide corridors. Gareth started giving instructions to a castle guard, while Jalissa came into step beside Otto. 

“How are you, Otto?” she asked. 

“I’ve been well.”

“No, I mean right now,” she said. “Being betrothed after Leyla…it must be troubling you.”

He caught sight of you ahead of him. You glided as if walking on clouds above the sky. He spotted the golden rose pin keeping your hair back. “Your daughter’s so young, Jalissa,” he said quietly. “She should be marrying someone closer to her age. I can name five young men who’d be better suitors.”

“And my lord husband will find a reason why each one is not worthy of our Y/N,” she replied. “It has been an absolute struggle securing a marriage for her. He always had one reason or another: ‘the boy is too brash’ ‘the boy is too dim-witted’ ‘the boy is a brute’.” She sighed defeatedly, “When Hobert mentioned marriage, he jumped at the chance.” She glanced over at him, “He trusts you; he always has.”

“I’m old enough to be her father. She must be repulsed by the idea of marrying me.”

“Trust me,” she chortled, “My Y/N is overjoyed to be marrying you.”

“Of course, I’m a Hightower of Oldtown. It offers her protection, wealth and security for the rest of her life.”

“That is not the only reason she’s happy about it.”

Otto felt there was more in the statement than Jalissa said out loud. He looked back over to you as they walked into the Grand Hall, the central hub of Highgarden. Otto expected melancholy or a hidden fury in them, but instead he saw a subtle joy. You talk animatedly to Elise, the both of you giggling together before you looked over at him. You gave another sweet smile that melted hearts before bashfully looking away. No, that’s absurd. Jalissa meant to ease any doubts and worries he might have; maybe to keep him from running away, but she should know by now. 

He never runs from his duties. 

A spread of food and drink had been put out for the guests, no doubt to let them rest as their belongings were taken to their apartments. He spoke with the other lords of the Reach who’d come for the festival and his nuptials, reconnecting and greeting old friends from home. But, his eyes occasionally casted over towards you. You stood with other noble ladies, no doubt gossiping and chatting amongst yourselves. He couldn’t overcome the look you’d given him. Otto wouldn’t lie. The thought of you desiring him sounded appealing. He liked imagining such a beautiful creature wanting him, aching for him. He briefly pictured you coming to him, sneaking into his chambers and asking for him rather than him sending a maid to collect you for him. The odds of that were unlikely. Very. 

****

You’d heard many things about Ser Otto Hightower, your father’s childhood friend. You heard your father recount stories about him and Ser Otto, and your mother often spoke kindly of him. They both told you he’d make a good husband; he’d treat you honorably and keep you comfortably for the rest of your days. You heard other people say he was methodical and ambitious, which you could understand. Your own father can be the same way at times. You supposed all men are ambitious, in truth, but that did not intrigue you. 

“He’s so…old, though,” said Maera, one of your ladies-in-waiting. She and your other companions stood in a circle on the other side of the room. You saw the disgust on her face as she looked over at Otto. “He could be your father.”

“My father says his family is wealthy and pious,” you told her, trying to find a reason to excuse your compliance. “He seems kind enough.”

And handsome, though you’d never say so out loud. Ser Otto Hightower carried a refined, regal aura that made him stand out. The boys brought forward as suitors bumbled about, tried too hard to impress you, or spoke about your beauty endlessly with no substance. Ser Otto hardly said a word to you since meeting apart from his greeting, but you’d seen the recognition in his eyes. Your eyes looked over his tall stature, the light brown in his beard and the ginger in his auburn hair. It gave him a more respectable appearance. You did not know much about him besides what your parents told you, and you considered approaching him first. Yet, the thought tightened nerves in your stomach. What would you say to him? How would the conversation go? What if, like all the others, he saw you as an object to possess? You knew you’d be miserable if the latter was true. So many men seeking your hand saw you as a trophy to be won. You’d be a pretty, shiny jewel they can flaunt at balls and feasts. Your father, thankfully, hated every man who stepped through the door with your name on his lips. 

Except Ser Otto. 

You watched him speaking jovially with other lords of The Reach. Many people came from all around the region to attend the Harvest Moon Festival; many came for your upcoming wedding, which was at week's end. Several of your friends and relatives worked tirelessly on their gowns for the ball at the end of the week. Your seamstress recently finished the last draft of her designs for you, bringing your vision of a dress of maple leaves in orange, yellow, and red to life, and started sewing. Tonight, your father plans to host a welcoming feast for all the noble houses attending, and you have your gowns lined up for the entire week. You’d made sure they were eye-catching, pretty and slightly provocative. Men Ser Otto’s age tended to like pretty girls who flaunted their bodies. Your mother told you he was an honorable man, who wouldn’t want a wife who shows so much skin, so you held back into a more subtle gown. Still, you hoped Ser Otto approached you tonight. 

That little voice in the back of your head hoped he did more than talk. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Elise, your younger sister, bounced over to you. In her hands, she held several flower crowns of different colors. She already wore her crown of pink carnations and baby’s breath on her head. “Mother wishes for the ladies to wear these tonight!” she held them out for your friends to grab, “And she said you get to wear this one.”

Your flower crown had gold roses woven into green leaves and feathers. Looking over to where your mother stood, a wet nurse holding your baby sister, you both locked eyes. She gave you a knowing smile, then nodded her head towards your father and Ser Otto. You returned with a nervous look, and shook your head. She gave a visible sigh, as if to say “alright, but you must speak with him eventually”. You would. Just not now. Especially not with your friends so closely watching. 

“I heard his wife died some time ago,” said Cornelia, holding her own crown of blue and white flowers. “She fell ill from a fever and passed away. Maybe he’ll be so distraught over his wife still, he won’t pay you much mind. My mother says the only time I’d need to see my husband is at the bedding and on formal occasions. Perhaps the same will be for you.”

“I hope not.”

“What?” said Maera incredulously. 

“I’d always hoped to have a loving marriage,” you admitted, playing with the crown in your hands. “A husband who adores and loves me like in the stories.”

“Life isn’t a fairytale, Y/N,” she replied, drinking from her wine cup. “My mother says women in this realm are dealt bad cards, and we must adapt to them or else we lose. My father promised me to August Tarly,” she said the name with disdain, “Once he’s been knighted.”

“Seeing how August Tarly wields a sword, I can’t imagine that’ll be any time soon,” you said. 

"I'm not counting the days, is all I can say."

You looked back at Ser Otto, who happened to catch you at the same time. Warmth filled your cheeks, you smiled and turned away. You hoped he was as kind as your mother said. If not that, then at least civil and decent towards you. A part of you worried you may spoil everything and Ser Otto chooses not to marry you. He might not be fully over his wife’s death, and find another way to avoid marriage. You'd thought about sneaking away until you spotted Ser Otto heading into the gardens from afar. 

"I will see you all tonight," you told the women, and swiftly moved through the crowd without an explanation.

You stayed by the stone archway leading into the vast gardens beyond. Other guests stayed spread out through the blossoming flowers and fountains, and you saw him talking to Lord Tarly, shaking hands and smiling. You never knew how to tell your friends about your taste in men. They all swooned over the handsome, young knights and lords who came through Highgarden, each of them fighting for the man’s attention. You, however, found yourself admiring men much older than you. Older men were more experienced in life and love. Now, you didn’t fall in love with the wrinkled, elderly men who sat in chairs and walked about on sticks. You liked men like Otto, middle-aged and still fit. You hoped your father would fight for the marriage if Otto should suggest another form of alliance. You’d love nothing more than to be his wife. 

Otto eventually left the company of Lord Tarly and his men, and walked towards the garden maze. Having grown up within the walls of Highgarden, you knew the garden maze like the back of your hand. Waiting until he’d disappeared through the archway, you stealthily followed him inside. The tall hedges made narrow paths going in all directions, each path leading the wanderer into groves of fruits and flowers, small sitting areas, or bathing pools. Perhaps he may get lost, and you can happen to have come upon him? You were merely enjoying your family’s gardens, and found him? 

‘Oh, forgive me, Ser. I thought I was alone…What? You’ve gotten turned around in the maze? Ha, that’s alright. Everyone does. Come, I will lead you back to the party…” You entertained yourself with the idea of coming upon Ser Otto in the citrus groves. Oranges, peaches, and apricots growing on trees, and their sweet smell hanging in the air. You moved along the trodden path Ser Otto had taken, hearing footsteps nearby and sensing it might be him. “What was that, Ser? Where is my chaperone? Well, Septa Gaunt’s ankles often swell when standing too long, so I left her sitting by one of the fountains…Why yes, I am happy to be marrying you. I promise I will be a good wife to you and mother to our children…No, Ser, I would not be opposed to you kissing me right now…I wore this gown just for you. I hope you like it…Oh, you wish for me to remove-”

“-It seems I am not the only one who enjoys the infamous Tyrell garden maze.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice. Turning around, you saw Otto standing in the entryway to the small courtyard you’d walked into. Benches on either side of the small space, a fountain of The Maiden holding her arms out as birds zoomed around her stood in the center. It was one of your favorites. Made of bronze, it shone in the morning sunlight, and the water spewed from her hands like crystals into the pond around her. The daydream running in your mind immediately dissipated when you caught sight of him. A deep heat rushed up your neck and burned your cheeks. 

“Oh, um, Ser Otto, my…you, um, uh, gave me a fright…” you sounded so childish. ‘Gave me a fright’. You could’ve kicked yourself right then and there. 

“Forgive me, my lady,” he replied, “That was not my intention.” He spotted the fountain behind you, “Ha, it seems your mother’s statue is still here.”

“Ha, uh yes. It is.” 

“I remember when your father commissioned this. It’d been after he married your mother,” he told you, coming up to your side. “He told me she was The Maiden in flesh, and wanted to dedicate a statue to preserve her beauty for eternity. He’s always been the hopeless romantic, your father,” he snorted. 

“You, um, see quite close to him and my mother,” you said, grabbing at topics to discuss. “He said he’d been fostered at The Hightower in Oldtown?” 

“Yes, he was,” he nodded. “He came to us after our fathers decided to renew Hightower and Tyrell ties. Fosterage was a lot more common back then. Your father and I became fast friends, training and being educated together. I suppose my father really did it because I never had many friends my own age. My brother was much older than me by that time, and I had no other siblings. I grew to truly cherish your father,” he said to you. “And him in return to me. I suppose that’s why he’s so adamant that I be your husband.”

“Our families truly are intertwined,” you said, watching the clear water spill from the statue's ring of flowers underneath. “My father says a marriage between our house and yours will be beneficial to both parties. He says the trade routes aren’t very safe these days, and House Hightower can provide more men to guard them.”

“We can…” you heard his voice trailing off before he said, “Lady YN, I considered asking your father to call off our engagement.”

The words sunk your heart into the acidic pits of your stomach. You looked over to him, and said, “Ser?” 

“I’m an old man, my lady,” he replied, not really looking at you. “A woman your age should be matched with someone younger and fitter than I. I already have children and grandchildren of my own. You cannot possibly wish to marry someone as old as me. I know your father wants the best for you, and I assure you that is not me.”

“But, Ser…” the fact that he thought he wasn’t a suitable husband for you shattered your hopes and dreams. Your mother always said you hoped far too high. You played with the belt around your waist, and said, “I do wish to marry you.”

He huffed in a laugh, “There is no need for flattery, my lady. There is nobody around to hear you.”

“I am not trying to flatter you, Ser. I mean it,” you turned completely to face him, hoping he’d see the sincerity there, “I would very much like to be your wife.” 

He faced you, hands behind his back, “And why is that? There are plenty of boys in this region who’d cut a man down to be with you. You’d certainly be a good match for my grandson, Prince Aegon, were he not already betrothed.”

“I don’t want a boy. I want a man,” you stated, cringing at how foolish it sounded out loud. “What I mean to say is that the boys that have come forward are all simple-minded, brutish, and only see me as a trophy.”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t see you that way, hm?” he stepped closer to you, his body a foot away from yours. It left you breathless for a moment, and a slew of scenarios ran through your mind. 

“Because we’ve been standing in this yard alone and you haven’t tried to touch or kiss me,” you said, letting the idea settle into his mind. “My mother has told me many great things about you: how you were Hand of the King, all the good things you did for the kingdom, and that you’re an honorable and pious man. And besides,” you moved to him until you were inches from each other, smiling softly, “I quite like older men. They’re much more experienced in life and…marriage.” 

You heard him let out a soft sigh, his eyes scanning over your features up close. Gently, he brushed your arm, the simple touch igniting something inside you, “So, you are not opposed to this match?”

“No, Ser,” you shook your head. You pressed even closer, your body right against his, and circled the geometric patterns bordering his doublet. “I look forward to it greatly.” 

You saw a slight pink tinge cover his cheeks. He continued looking over your face before landing on your lips, “You…truly are The Rose of Highgarden…”

“Thank you, Ser,” you giggled. “I, um, hope this was not too forward,” you moved away from him suddenly, realizing what you’d done. “I don’t…I promise I am not usually this way-”

“-Do not apologize,” he insisted, bringing you back gently by the elbow. “Do you truly…Certainly you could not truly wish to marry an old man like me? I am old enough to be your father.” 

“Ser, you are not so old,” you assured him. You realized you quite enjoyed being close to him this way. “Old is for men like my grandfather, who walk around with a cane and cannot remember what day it is. I’m sure there are many things you can still do.”

‘Such as me…’ you nearly said, but decided that was indeed far too forward. He laughed at your words, and replied, “I’m not so sure of that, my lady. I have not done certain things in a very long time.”

“Perhaps once we’re married, we could-”

“-Y/N! Y/N, darling, where are you?” 

Your mother’s voice came from somewhere near the hedges, and you both jumped apart. Soon, Lady Jalissa came around the corner, and smiled in relief. “Ah, there you are,” she said, coming to your side, “I have been looking for you. The King has just arrived.” Suddenly, she noticed Otto beside you. She looked between you and then Otto, and realized what she’d done. Rather than scowl, she smiled knowingly. “Her chaperone is not present, Otto,” she teased, taking your hand, “You know better.”

“Perhaps her chaperone will be more mindful of her wanderings in the future,” Otto said, also sneering. “The King has arrived, you said?”

“Yes, him, the Queen, and the children. I’m sure Alicent will be pleased to see her father.” 

It was then that you remembered. You’d only just remembered: Queen Alicent is Ser Otto’s daughter. A pang of nervousness hit you as your mother guided you back through the maze, chatting with Otto about the Queen and him seeing The King again. You’d be related to The Queen, who was a few years older than you. What if she did not approve of this union? What if Otto took her opinion seriously and did discuss other alliance options with your father? You walked into the main hall again with your mother, gulping anxiously as you spotted the crowd parting for the newest guests. 

The King’s party consisted of his Kingsguard, men in white cloaks and golden armor. He walked with a cane, his white hair thinning on his head and his left sleeve dangling from the shoulder. He was around Otto’s age, yet looked so much older than the last time he visited Highgarden. Queen Alicent walked behind him with her ladies-in-waiting, wearing a green gown and a golden circlet in her auburn curls. She looked regal, the way a queen should look. She too was much, much younger than her husband. How could Otto object to your betrothal, yet fully accept his daughter marrying a man his age? Because that man was The King, of course. Behind her were Otto’s grandchildren: Prince Aegon, a tall boy with thick silver hair, who looked around the room in disinterest; Princess Helaena, a slender girl with hair just like her brother’s, shyly walking beside him as everyone looked on, and finally Prince Aemond, short and slight with silver curls down to his shoulders. The only one missing was Prince Daeron, the youngest who was a squire and cupbearer in Oldtown for Otto’s brother. Should you marry Otto, you’d be part of their family. You wouldn’t be royalty, but you’d be related to them. Since Otto is no longer Hand of the King, he no longer lives in King’s Landing. 

Perhaps that might be a good thing. 

Your father walked alongside King Viserys, the both talking cordially despite the slow steps. Everyone got along well with your father. While he may be a bit pompous at times, his jovial spirit rippled through crowds around him. It made him the perfect host. Your mother appeared with you at the center of the room, your siblings standing with her. When King Viserys approached, you all bowed. Then, your father introduced his household to him and Queen Alicent. 

Your nerves tripled when she approached you. You hoped maybe she did not know about the betrothal, but when her eyes widened slightly, you knew the truth. 

“You’re Lady Y/N?” she asked, trying to hide her disbelief. 

“Yes, Your Grace,” you nodded, curtsying. 

Alicent’s eyes flitted to her father who stood nearby behind you, then back to you. “It is an honor to meet you, Lady Y/N.”

She hates you. “And you, Your Grace.” 

A sickness entered your stomach, and you thought you might vomit. She disapproves. She’s not only Otto’s daughter, but the Queen. She might demand your father choose another suitor; she could convince her father to decline the offer. You turned to your mother, who took your hand in hers and squeezed reassuringly. No amount of hand-holding could hold off the dread. You almost did not acknowledge Prince Aegon, who gave you a swift once-over, then walked away unimpressed. Princess Helaena timidly nodded, and you smiled kindly at her. It was Prince Aemond who stood stock-still in front of you. 

“Um, uh, hmmm,” he stammered, “Hello, Lady Y/N.” 

“Prince Aemond,” you curtsied once again. 

He stared up into your face, since he was much shorter being only twelve. The sudden fear that Queen Alicent might suggest a marriage between House Tyrell and The Crown came to you. It wouldn’t be the first time a Targaryen-Tyrell marriage alliance would be proposed. Yet, at the time it’d been King Viserys’s brother, Prince Daemon, who’d suggested it. This time it’d be The Queen. What if your father saw the benefits in this match and called off your betrothal to Otto? You tried thinking the opposite. Aemond is much younger than you. You’re twenty-three. He’s twelve. 

Your father called for the royal family to be shown to their chambers for the week. You saw Alicent walk with her father after them, and you excused yourself to your own chambers for the day. 

***

“She’s a child, Father.”

“She’s a grown woman, Alicent.”

“She might as well be a child compared to you.”

Otto found his daughter’s reaction quite amusing. Standing in her quarters at Highgarden, the servants finished setting down Alicent’s possessions and left the father and daughter alone. It’d been so long since Otto laid eyes on Alicent. The last they’d seen one another, Aegon and Helaena were still infants. He’d embraced her the moment the servants left, taking in the scent of flowers in her hair and the warmth of her. Seeing her now in the sunlight, she reminded him of Leyla. He’d planned on asking her about Lord Lionel, his sucessor who'd perished in a fire, leaving the position open once more. But, she had other concerns. 

“I cannot believe you are agreeing to this union,” she said, hands crossed in front of her and displeasure on her face. “You’d told me you did not wish to remarry after Mother passed. Now, here you are, engaged to a girl twice your junior.”

“It is for political reasons alone,” he said. “House Tyrell needs men, and House Hightower is willing to offer them. Gareth has a daughter who needs marrying, and he has insisted it be me.”

“Why?”

“We are close friends and allies. He trusts me to look after his daughter.”

She scoffed, shaking her head, “Oh, look after her, you will, Father.”

“Alicent,” he said firmly, as if scolding her. 

“You cannot convince me it is not for her youth and looks that you wish to marry her,” she retorted. “I’ve heard the things people say about that girl.”

“What do they say?” Alicent did not answer at first. He pressed her, “Alicent, is there something about her that you know that I do not?”

She stayed silent for a moment more before answering, “That she is lovely.” It almost annoyed her to say it. “They say she is lovely, gracious, kind, and talented. Ladies who’ve met her speak very highly of her.” She plopped down onto a chair, “Her beauty is said to rival the most beautiful girls at court. It appears the rumors are true.” She’d moved her fingers to pick at her nails, but she quickly stopped herself. Otto then discovered the real reason she disapproved, “You said you loved Mother. You said you’d never want for another woman after she died. You’d told me so yourself when I asked you. I never imagined you marrying someone else, especially one so young.” 

He smiled softly, and came to sit beside her. “I did love your mother, Alicent. I still do, even if she is no longer with us. But, this union will benefit both our families.”

“Is there no other option?” she nearly snapped. “Perhaps Uncle Hobert could foster the little girl or one of the sons at Oldtown. Daeron would do well to be around children his age. Maybe the little girl could be betrothed to Aemond instead. They’re close in age. A match to the crown will benefit him more, would it not?”

It would. “I will confess I considered the same thing,” he said. “But, it is Y/N Gareth wishes to marry off, not Elise. I will not lie to you, my daughter,” he looked at her, “Gareth is not very fond of House Targaryen.”

“Really?” she asked, intrigued. 

He poured them both wine from a pitcher nearby, and said, “Lord Gareth is a strong believer in The Seven. He does not approve of the Targaryen’s queer customs of marrying within their own families. He says he cannot trust a family who use their dragons as a means to put themselves above other men. It would take much more than simple military gain to propose a match.” He took a sip from his cup, then said, “And yes…Lady Y/N is beautiful, and Jalissa assures me she will make a good wife.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, “That poor girl. I can’t imagine her being very fond of the idea.”

“She claims differently.” He instantly regretted saying this when she looked over at him with wide eyes. 

“Father?” 

“I spoke with her in the garden,” he admitted, “And she told me she’s partial to…older men.”

Alicent stifled a laugh with her wine. “Surely, her father must’ve convinced her to say it.”

For some reason, Otto got the impression that you were not as obedient a daughter as Alicent. He recalled how close you’d stood to him, touching his doublet lightly and pure sincerity in your eyes. When he touched you, a flame sparked within him. He’d been tempted to kiss you right then, but his own morals restricted him. He liked to believe you’d said it to ease any worries. Yet, he liked the idea of you desiring him even more. You’d walked so willingly into his embrace, your bosom centimeters from his chest, and your body heat radiating onto him. For a moment, he remembered the bathing pools of Highgarden, and the idea of taking you there. Even if he did not wed you…

Gods, he’d still love to undress you. 

The innocence you’d shown clearly shrouded something lustful within you. People at Highgarden tended to live much more loosely than those in King’s Landing. He liked the idea that you might be one of those people. 

“-Father? Father, are you listening?” Alicent’s voice broke into his thoughts. 

“Yes,” he lied, coughing and looking at her. 

She didn’t believe him. “I said, have you heard what’s happened to Lord Lionel and Ser Harwin?”

Otto sat up straight and took a drink, hoping the coolness might soothe the fires inside him. “Oh yes, a terrible thing. Very tragic. I understand it was a fire that broke out in Harrenhal?”

“Yes, it took them both," she said. He noticed other words lingering inside her. She did not look at him, and focused on her wine. Her mother once did the same whenever she withheld information from him. "The King…is looking for a new Hand."

Otto paused, "Is he?"

"He is. I have taken the position for the time being, but I put forward your name." She then broke, "I have no allies at court, Father. Viserys continuously favors Rhaenyra and her sons over mine. He remains entirely blind to their plain features, and their obvious birth illlegitimacy. Whenever I broch the subject, he gives me a weak answer." Her deep brown eyes pleaded with him, "Father, I cannot go against them on my own. I need you."

He hesitated. As Hand of the King, he'd have significantly more power. A second son to a noble house, he inherited very little compared to his brother. When he became Hand, he became a person of worth. He had power and influence throughout the realm. If he were still Hand, he wouldn't need to remarry. Hobert might've chosen another option. Otto recalled his days as Hand of the King, first to the last king and then to Viserys. He'd spoken with the King's voice when he fell too ill; he sat on the council and had The King’s ear. He'd be with his daughter and grandchildren again. They'd have a person in their corner, concerned with their futures and their lives. If Rhaenyra became queen, the realm would be flown into war and chaos. 

If her bastard boys became kings after, it'd ruin the kingdom further. 

"Have you managed to convince him?" He asked her. 

"I have mentioned it to him a few times," she said. "He may consider rebuilding the bridges he burned dismissing you from court."

"I only spoke the truth," Otto said. "It is not my fault he is willfully blind to her misdeeds. I tell him his daughter went into a brothel with Prince Daemon, and was seen coming out after him. He dismisses me instead of accepting the truth."

He also remembered Viserys telling him that he'd plotted to put his daughter forward as a queen. Well, he had, but he never admitted that. Should he be Hand again, he can push for Aegon to be named heir instead of Rhaenyra. If he was Hand, he could keep Prince Daemon from being on the throne. If he was Hand again, people will understand why you wish to marry him. 

"I will wait for him to approach me," as he knows Viserys will. "I have plenty to occupy me for the moment." Such as you and your beautiful eyes. 

"He's been quite sentimental these days," she told him. "His declining health has made him even more so."

"I can imagine. The King has always been fickle with his commands. He banishes Daemon and then allows him back at court to only banish him again. He dismisses me as Hand, and then brings me back. It's only a matter of time."

She looked over at him, then said, "What will you do about Lady Y/N? You cannot seriously wish to marry her."

"I will. I must."

And wished to, though he kept this to himself. "I will leave you to settle in," he said, standing up from his seat. "I have yet to see my own quarters."

"I suspect they'll be close to Lady Y/N's," she said with disdain. "I know how these Tyrell's work. Her mother will no doubt have placed you close, so her daughter may tempt you in the dark."

He chuckled. She had not even spoken to you, and she already accused you of a plot. He kissed her hands, then left her chambers. He made his way to the rooms Gareth and Jalissa always kept for him. A spacious suite with an adjacent sitting area in front of a fire. A floral tapestry of a young maiden with flowing hair dancing in a silk chemise was added to the room. He couldn't help noting the maiden's similarities to you. Otto smirked. Alicent was not completely wrong. Jalissa can be as cunning as him when she wishes. 

Otto spent the rest of his day with his grandchildren and daughter. He did not see you again until later that night at the welcoming feast. As he walked in, the herald announcing his arrival, he spotted you sitting with your sister and companions. Each girl wore a circlet of different flowers, matching ribbons falling down the back. Yours was the only golden one, roses woven into vines and feathers. It matched the gold flowers embroidered into the baby blue gown you wore. You stood out amongst the ladies around you, not only because of your obvious beauty, but because you sat in the middle. You'd laughed at something your sister said, and his heart couldn't help but flutter. He took seats with his household on your side of the room, glad to have you out of his eyeline. Otherwise, he'd be unable to look anywhere else. 

"Evening, Ser Otto," The King approached him, and he stood up at once. 

"Good Evening, Your Grace," he bowed. "I pray you have been well."

"I wish I could say so," he chuckled. "I heard you're marrying the Tyrell girl on week's end?"

"Her father has proposed that to me," he nodded. "There is a situation with bandits on the routes from here to Oldtown, and her father has offered a marriage pact." 

"You're a lucky man then," he said, "She's lovely. Ha, I know Daemon would be envious of you were he here." 

"Thank you, Your Grace. I was sorry to hear about Lord Lionel and his son," he added. "It's such a shame. He was a good Hand."

"Not as good as you were," Viserys noted. 

"I appreciate that, Your Grace." 

"Perhaps," he limped closer to Otto, "We may sit down some time soon? Make amends and rebuild the bridge we burned so long ago."

"I would be open to that," he said. 

This pleased Viserys, who nodded and hobbled away to his seat on the high table. Otto watched him leave, more concerned than satisfied. Viserys is already missing a limb due to infection, and now he is becoming weaker. His days are numbered, and this means that Rhaenyra may soon take the throne. With her came Prince Daemon, who'd turn the Red Keep into a brothel and wouldn't hesitate to have his head on the executioner's block. Him being Hand again will ensure the right person ends up on the throne. Not to mention, people may not question his bride-to-be on her choice of husband. Any girl in your position would be a fool to not want the Hand of the King. 

Glancing across the hall, he took in your beauty once more. He couldn’t help noticing the low cut neckline of your gown, his eyes gluing themselves to it. The look might be considered scandalous at court, but here in your father’s home, many women wore similar dresses. He suspected due to the warm weather, but Jalissa’s mischievous smile came to the forefront of his mind. Otto could not help imagining those mounds in his hands, hard nipples on his tongue while you squirm with pleasure. He took a drink to wash down these thoughts. When you sensed someone watching you, you turned in his direction. Unsure what else to do, he raised his cup and you did the same. The Seven took their time when creating you, putting all the love and beauty in the world into your form. He walked towards your parents, hoping striking a conversation might distract him from your gaze. 

“Doesn’t YN look lovely tonight, Otto?” Jalissa asked him, looking in your direction. 

“She does,” he said. “She certainly inherited her mother’s looks.” 

“You flatter me,” she tsked, smiling at him. 

“I only speak the truth,” he insisted. He then moved on to the most concerning topic: “Your daughter told me she isn’t bothered by our arrangement,” he said. “When I told her that I considered ending it, she insisted that she approved of our match.” He glanced over at her, “Was this your doing, Jalissa?”

“Not entirely,” she admitted freely. “I may have slipped your name into the list of suitors, but I told her she may decline it, if she wished. She said she did not.”

“She mentioned she preferred men of a certain age…”

Jalissa's humored smile gave everything away. “YN has always shown a certain interest in older men.” She stepped closer to him, “I only wish for my daughter’s happiness, Otto. If I can find a way to give her even a crumb of it, I will do what it takes. Surely that is how you feel for your children?”

“That is what we all wish for them, Jalissa, but do you not worry what it might look like for her? A woman as young as her with a man of my age?”

“People will talk whether she marries a young man or an old one,” she shrugged indifferently. “Why the inquiry? Do you not find my daughter pleasing?”

“Oh, um, well…” his cheeks tinged pink at the question. “Your daughter is-”

“-You may speak freely with me,” she giggled at his flustered reaction. “Unless you’d rather tell my husband instead? He’ll be overjoyed at the idea.”

“Your daughter is beautiful, there is no doubt,” he said, finding you in the crowd again. This time he caught you looking at him. You gave a shy, embarrassed smile when his eyes met yours, but you did not look away. It took his breath away. “She is utterly enchanting.” 

“She’s even more enchanting up close,” she nudged him before walking away from him. 

This he knew. Otto watched Jalissa disappear into the crowd, leaving him awkwardly standing alone. His body burned from being under your gaze. He couldn't recall the last time a woman gave him so much attention. Normally, Otto did not struggle to maintain his composure. He could remain calm and collected regardless of the subject or person. Yet, your stare alone made him shift and gulp thickly. You are only a girl. Nothing malicious or threatening. But, he still took deep breaths as he made his way over to you. 

“Evening, Lady YN,” he gave a curt bow, immediately scrambling for what to say. Underneath the candlelights above, you looked positively glowing. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you, ser,” you beamed. “I spoke with Her Grace when she arrived…” 

His stomach twisted, “Forgive anything she might have said. She may be our queen, but she’s my daughter as well. I hope she wasn’t too harsh.”

“Actually, it’d been quite the opposite,” you said. “She said she looked forward to the union of our houses, and to my joining your family.”

Undoubtedly pleasantries expected of a queen and daughter of an old man like him. He gazed around the room to see his daughter on the dais, chatting with Jalissa and being a proper guest. Alicent means well, and likely harbors resentment at him but he anticipated that. He only hoped Alicent wouldn’t be outwardly vicious towards you; none of this was your doing. It was your father’s and his brother’s idea. But, seeing you this close up and recalling your gentle touch, he might be warming up to it himself. 

“Would you care for a dance, my lady?” he asked, turning back to you. His body yearned to be close to you again. 

“I’d love to,” you smiled at him, immediately leaving your seat to join him. 

You took his arm and he walked you to the sea of dancers in the middle of the hall. Immediately, you both went into step together. Otto couldn’t recall the last time he’d danced at a banquet, so he did miss a step or two, but that exhilarating feeling he once felt returned. 

“Has it been long since you danced, ser?” you questioned, a small tease in your voice but nothing malicious. 

“I will admit yes,” he chuckled embarrassed. “Not since my lady wife passed. She loved dancing. So, forgive me if I have two-left feet.”

“You’re simply out of practice,” you took his hands at the appropriate moment, gazing into his eyes flirtatiously, “I can help you become reacquainted with it, if you like. I know you have plenty of things to teach me, I’d like to return the favor.”

The implication, however subtle, made him shudder. He loved and hated how easily this nymph effected him. You were The Maiden personified, in his eyes. 

“I’d like that,” he said quietly, the both of you standing in the middle of the floor. “I hear you’re a splendid dancer. When I’m tutored, I only learn from the best.”

You giggled, and then the lesson began. Nimble and light on your feet, you easily moved about the floor with him at every song. You made it fun and delightful. Otto almost forgot who he was and the people watching the two of you as you repeatedly came close together. Your electric energy pulled him in and kept a firm grip on him the entire time. Hearing from Jalissa that you might truly harbor favor for him only made his desires burn hotter. He did his best to keep himself from touching you too long or glancing at your body, but he’ll admit he snuck his peeks. 

“-I found Septon Rowley’s writings about the Seven intriguing,” you said as both walked into the garden. 

You’d both decided to take some air in the garden outside the hall after dancing. The lanterns hanging around the lush garden gave dim lighting to the cobbled paths around the vast landscape. He also noticed how much quieter and empty they were. The idea of being fully alone with you again stirred disquiet in his gut. Truly, he should’ve warned your septa, but the idea of the aged woman hovering nearby bothered him. He isn’t a green boy who cannot control himself. He is a grown man who can withhold his desires regardless of how badly they wished to be released. 

“He talks about them as if they’re people and not gods,” you continued. “He made them sound more human, even if some septons believe his work to lean more into storytelling than facts.”

“Septon Rowley is known to be a bit fanciful with his writing. He said he intended it to be read to children, but I found myself enjoying it as well,” he replied. “Your father mentioned you’re quite versed in scriptures?”

“I wouldn’t say versed, since I can only recite the more common phrases, but I did take a liking to it in my youth. My septa and my mother used to read them to us during sewing circles or after dinner. When they read them, it didn’t sound like a religious practice, but more for entertainment,” you said, “And I do pray in the sept every morning after I break my fast.”

“Do you?”

You giggled, “You believe I do not?”

“I’ve never known your mother or father to impress prayers upon their children before,” he said. “Your mother has loved the arts and your father prefers hunting over praying.”

“It’s true that they never did,” you nodded, “But I find it soothing in a way. The sept is truly the only place where I’m alone.”

“Oh?”

“I’m always surrounded by my ladies-in-waiting, my family, the servants…In the sept, I can kneel down on a bench in front of a statue with candles and sit. It’s become more of a special hideout than a sept.”

“I know the sept here in Highgarden is a rival to it, but The Starry Sept in Oldtown is glorious,” he told you. 

“The Starry Sept was beautiful when I was there last” you said, the both of you reaching a secluded section of the garden. 

He realized you’d both walked into one of the bathing pools of Highgarden. A square pool with clear water was dotted with lily pads and flowers, this particular pool sat in the middle of an orange grove surrounded by thick stone walls. You each took seats on a bench near the water. 

“It was so ancient,” you said, “And so many important things have happened there. It was a bit intimidating to me. There’d also been far too many people there for my taste. Also, my mother and sister went with me since they didn’t want me straying off alone.”

He gulped when he noticed the angle you sat put your bosom right in front of him. Otto knew he should not look. He did not bring you here to ravage you. He truly wished to know you; to see your true nature absent any wandering eyes. Yet, could anyone blame him? It was as if you meant to bring him here to tease him. 

“The sept in Hightower is a bit smaller, but,” he said, “Much more private than the Starry Sept.”

You glanced over to him, and he knew he’d been caught. A lump caught in his throat when you shifted closer to him. “Like this place here?” you suggested. 

“A bit,” he nodded, “Yes.” 

He knew he was doomed when your thigh pressed against his own. You’re simply teasing him. Your mother must have put you up to this, which wouldn’t surprise him. They want this marriage pact to go smoothly, and you showing interest in him would assure it does. It’s the sort of thing he’d done when he steered his daughter to Viserys. But, something about the way your fingers timidly danced over his thigh told him otherwise. When he forced himself to meet your eyes, he saw sincerity in them as you spoke. 

“Books about The Faith aren’t the only ones I like,” you said, voice dropping low and sultry. It drew him to you like a siren’s song. “My mother has a collection of books from Essos and she taught me how to read them.”

Heat burned in Otto’s cheeks, and tightened his stomach. He knew exactly what sort of books came out of the Free Cities. While most were educational texts about the various people and cultures, he’d read a fair few erotic tales written by pillowhouse owners or their courtesans. The picture of you in nothing but your chemise, legs parted as you pleasured yourself to one came to him immediately. 

“Did she? Jalissa should know better…”

“She only wished to educate me in things outside of a lady’s instruction,” you told him. “I’m not as naive as some of my companions might be, if I’m putting modesty aside. I knew I’d be married one day and,” you rested your hand on his inner thigh and whispered in his ear, “I want to be able to please my husband however he likes.” 

“My lady…this is…”

“If you wish for me to stop,” you pulled away from him, “Then my apologies. I…I should not have been so-”

“-What sort of things did you read, my lady?” he asked a bit too eagerly. “I’ve read a few tales myself.”

“Have you?” you asked in disbelief. “My father always painted you as a stout believer.”

“I do hold strongly to my faith and values but, YN, I am a man.” It was his turn to lean in close, “My favorite was written by a Lysene courtesan who shared beds with kings and princes. She claimed she ruled entire cities by using her body to sway her lovers. I found it quite clever of her to bring a man to such deep pleasure he throws away his ideals for her.” 

“Lady Harresha of the Red House?” you asked, a bit eager yourself. 

“The same,” he nodded. 

“I particularly enjoyed her stories about the lover she took in the house’s bathing pool,” you said, putting your hand back on his thigh. This time, he did not shy away. “The things she wrote about him doing to her sounded so sinful and delightful. The way she talked about his tongue tracing her sex made me imagine my own lover doing it to me.” 

Hearing such vulgar words coming from your mouth burned his loins. “She was said to taste as sweet as strawberries,” he said, taking the bait, “But I bet the Rose of Highgarden would taste like peaches.” 

“Ser…” you said in a bated breath. 

“I think we’ve moved far past formalities, YN,” he breathed, his hand gently creeping over yours. “You can call me ‘Otto’.” 

He thought you might shy away now; perhaps you’ll believe you’d bitten off more than you could chew. But, instead you guided your hand right over his groin. He bit the inside of his cheek when your soft, warm hand cupped his growing bulge. Slow and light, your fingers traced the faint outline. Seeing your breasts so close to him now, he reached out for one which caused you to gasp in surprise. Through the thin layers of your dress and chemise, he realized you didn’t wear a corset. Your hard nipple brushed against his palm as he gave a light squeeze, and he couldn’t help grazing over it. 

“I read one about a Pentoshi trade prince and a woman whom he declared had the most beautiful breasts in the world,” he said, pinching your nipple through your gown. “I’m beginning to believe I’ve found a pair to rival them.” 

You leaned into him, brushing your lips with his as you asked, “Would you like to find out? In a week’s time, they will be yours after all. You should see if you’ll like what you’re getting.”

“I know I will.”

It started with a few brief pecks before you deepened the kiss. His tongue slid between your lips and over your own, rolling around it smoothly as he continued groping your chest. Your lips worked so easily with his that sensuality laced every kiss. He felt alive again. Kissing your sweet lips revived a deep-seated arousal that hadn’t stirred for some time. Your hand rubbing his cock over his breeches had him moaning into your mouth as he cupped your cheek. Every small brush of your fingers on his tip stoked the fires inside him more. 

Soon, his hands left the front to snake around the back. His fingers deftly worked the lacings of your gown while yours unbuttoned his jerkin. He didn’t need to fill you tonight. There’d be time for that much later, but for now he’d be content seeing and touching your body. The two of you stood as he slid your dress off your shoulders, leaving you in only your chemise and stockings. Otto groaned at the sight of your breasts in front of him. The brief thought that someone might walk in and see the two of you crossed his mind, but the feeling of your hands untying his breeches brought him back to you. Quickly removing boots and slippers, you each stripped down to your underclothes, which only fanned the flames growing between you. 

“You look beautiful,” he growled into your neck, peppering the crook with soft kisses that tickled your flesh. “Far more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Am I?”

“Truly,” he kissed you again, tongues slipping together briefly. 

He wasn’t so old and wrinkled that he considered himself unappealing, but he didn’t imagine you enjoying the sight of him too much. However, you proved him wrong as you traced your fingers down his chest and stomach to his pelvic bone. “I haven’t seen many men nude, ser, but yours definitely arouses me. Particularly after I see this,” you gripped the muscle sticking up to your stomach, smiling as he groaned deeply. “Come into the water with me just like in Lady Harresha’s story.” 

“Gladly, my lady.”

He kissed down your body to your thighs where he untied and slipped off your stockings. The moment you removed the last bits of clothing, Otto thought he might die. Your sex stood several inches from his face, a patch of hair above two soft folds that he saw himself licking and sucking to his heart’s content. His hands rubbed up and down your thighs as he looked on it, the thumbs pressing into the muscles as he reached the inner sides. Your soft whimpers added more fuel to his ever growing fires. Restraining himself, he guided you over to the steps of the pool, where he watched your body slink into the cool waters. 

Once there, he brought you into his embrace again. One hand on his shoulder, you wasted no time in taking him in your hand. You gave hos pulsating length gentle strokes, content to watch him kiss down your chest to your breasts. They truly were beautiful. Soft mounds with hard nipples that fit perfectly in his mouth, he grasped both as he suckled each one. The creases on the peaks constricted at his tongue, them being one of the most sensitive spots on your body. He moaned at the combination of your tits in his hands and you stroking his cock. When he felt you grip his shaft tightly, he sensed you might need his tongue elsewhere. First, he’d use his hand. Sliding one from your chest to the apex of your thighs, you trembled as his fingers slipped easily over your sex. He groaned softly as he felt a distinct wetness between the folds, and the hard nub that ran against his middle finger. 

“Otto…” you whined, gripping his shoulder as you tried staying still for him. 

You cried out when his fingers gently started rubbing around your clit. He chuckled softly at you squirming in his grasp, eager for more but not wishing to be demanding. 

“Let me have a closer look at you,” he said, capturing your lips to kiss you once more. “I want to see you.”

“Only see me?”

“For the moment, sweetling.” 

He guided you to the top step, where you eagerly spread your thighs to show him your sex above the low surface of water. Timidly, you mimicked his touches seconds before as you kept your eyes on him. His own eyes landed on your center, watching your hand slowly open your folds for him. He envisioned himself plunging hilt-deep into your tightness, ravaging you the way you richly deserved every night. He wrapped his hand around his tip and started gradually jerking from base to head every time. Otto groaned at the light trembles going through his body once you spread the lips for him.

“Do you like it?” you asked shyly, biting your lower lip as you traced your clit in front of him. 

“I love it,” he said, jaw dropping at the faint glistening he saw between them. “Do you often touch yourself like this?” he moved closer to touch your inner thigh, hooking one arm around it. 

“I do,” you nodded, clit tucked between two fingers as you slid them up and down. 

“While you read your naughty tales?”

“Yes. I get so aroused and wet,” you emphasized this by pushing your folds apart for him, “From reading about the things the characters do in the stories. Like the Lorathi slave who fucked her way to be the concubine of a Pentoshi prince.” You slowly continued touching yourself as you said, “How she pleasured a merchant with her mouth for passage across the river, letting his son fuck her from behind while she did it. I loved the part about her with a Norvoshi soldier, riding his large cock in order to gain access to his master. I can’t wait to feel one inside me,” you slid a finger inside your pussy, pushing it to the knuckle. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.” 

“Tell me more,” he groaned, hooking his arms around both your thighs now. “Tell me more while I taste you.” 

Holding you in his grasp, he kept you in place as he gave your sex long, flat licks. He tasted hints of your essence on his tongue, which had his cock throbbing in the water. He kept his pace steady, starting at the bottom before reaching the hard clit at the top and then repeating it. You leaned back into the edge behind you, your hands falling into his hair and feeling the strands between your fingers. 

“I climaxed hardest to the part when she finally meets the man at the end of her journey,” you panted. “Reading about how she sat on his face and rode his tongue left me wishing I had a husband who’d let me do that too. I came once, and kept going just to imagine it all over again.” 

You filthy girl. Otto never thought he’d find someone as dirty as himself. He growled into your pussy as he thought of you giving yourself multiple orgasms out of pure desire. When he swirled his tongue around your clit, your breaths became ragged and whiny that encouraged him to continue. Your sex tasted sweet, as intoxicating to him as wine, and he licked up any trickle that leaked from you. You tentatively grinded yourself into his mouth, moaning as he ran his tongue over the outer lips. 

“How often?” he asked you, rolling his tongue around once more. 

“Every night.”

“You fib.”

“I don’t,” you giggled breathily, grinding your hips into his face. He allowed it to hear the moan cut off your laugh. “You should hide in my bedchamber tonight. You’ll see it for yourself.” 

“Do not tempt me,” he said, sucking on your throbbing clit. “I will if pressed.”

“And that will only make me want your cock more.” 

“YN….” 

“Otto…please…”

“Please?” he taunted between licks before sucking tenderly. 

“Put your tongue inside,” you whimpered, pinching one of your nipples. “Like the man in the story. I want to feel a part of you inside me at least once.”

Otto planted himself in front of you and slipped his tongue inside your virginal sex. He let his moans vibrate in your entrance each time he darted in and out of you. This new sensation had you wriggling in his arms. He tightened his grip on you and started tongue fucking you faster, reaching as far as he can each time. He allowed you to grab hold of his hair once more to keep him in place as you used him. You soon started shuddering, your walls contracting around his tongue and thighs shaking in his arms. Thick waves of cum spilled over his tongue and he swallowed every bit he could; the juices became smeared on his chin and nose, drowning him in your scent and taste. Even when he removed his tongue, Otto continued sucking your wet sex until you squealed from the sensitivity. 

“Sit up for me,” he ordered, standing up in front of you. 

You did not need guidance in what happened next. Otto’s jaw fell in a low moan when you stuck out your tongue and licked him from bottom to top. Your hot tongue tickled the underside of his length, flicking just beneath the sensitive head before giving it a light suck. Droplets of precum spilled out as you kissed and licked him; he thought you might avoid it due to the taste, but you surprised him once again. You traced the slit of the head to the leaking hole, running your tongue around it before sucking it softly. A small hum of approval told him you enjoyed it.

“And here I thought I’d have a timid little virgin on my hands,” he said, one hand on his hip and the other on your head as you took him fully in your mouth. “I might think you’ve…you’ve done this before.”

“I assure you, ser,” you said, pecking his tip with your lips, “I have not. I only take instructions from reading well.”

“Did your Lorathi slave write about sucking cock too?”

“Often and with great detail.”

You proved this to him soon enough. Otto found himself struggling to stay put as you stroked and sucked his cock. Your warm mouth felt like heaven. Your wet tongue slid over the throbbing vein each time, while your cheeks hollowed tightly around his girth. He’d marry you on the morrow if he could; he’d marry you right after you finish him if you wanted. Much like the whores in your Essos fairytales, you’d bewitched him with your mouth and tongue. With a cradle of his balls in your hand, light squeezes and gentle touches had him thrusting into your throat. The sounds of your choking gasps sent him over the edge. He thought you’d pull away, and you did but only to open your mouth wide for him. Jerking him in the same pace as before, you locked eyes with him as thick white droplets fell on your tongue. 

Not even his Leyla would've done such acts. 

His orgasm hit him before he could control himself. He moaned your name louder than he intended, unable to stop himself from spilling over your lips. When you saw them getting away from you, you latched your mouth to the squirting head and this drove him even wilder. Even as his relief came, his desire for you continued burning. You stroked him until nothing else was left; you licked until he stopped twitching. When you finished, you dared to appear timid and shy once more. He bent down to latch his lips to yours, not caring what flavors he might find but only wanting your kiss. 

Neither of you left the pool right away. Basking in the afterglow of the moment, you stayed contently in his arms on the soft grass as you both continued talking. He felt at ease in your company now. He supposed having worked out his initial desires, he could enjoy the woman underneath the seductive veil. If this first meeting brought about such tension, he couldn’t imagine your wedding night. As you both eventually dried off and dressed, he thought about a life with you. He knew you’d love Oldtown and the Hightower. You’d be surrounded by his family who will undoubtedly accept and grow to love you. 

He knew he was starting to.

***

A/N: Hello sweet ottogasms lmao I had this sitting around in my drafts for a looonnggg time and recently got into the swing of writing this duo again <3

[sarawritestories]

Heyy I read your period fic with cassian and I absolutely adored it! I love how you write cassian as a caring male...and honestly I would envision Helion the same too with his partner/mate when she is on her cycle...If its not too much of a hassle...i wanted to request a helion x reader fic where they are sleeping together but when reader wakes up in the middle of the night and sees that she has bled through the sheets and this is her first time having her period in front of Helion so she is terrified and nervous of Helion waking up and seeing the mess she has made..but Helion ends up waking up with only wanting to take care of the reader and help her with her cramps❤️

Hi Anon, Yes, and as I have just fallen victim to my own cycle, I felt it was appropriate to get some Helion loving here because a high lord taking care of their mate in pain is Yummy!

I'm sorry this took so long!

Fuck Propriety

Helion X Autumn Court Fem Reader

Summary: You got your cycle for the first time staying over with your mate. When the High Lord of the Day Court finds you on the floor writhing from the pain, Helion begins to take care of you, whether you want it or not.

Content Warning: bad cramps, bleeding through sheets. Swearing, but the title makes that a given. A little bit of self-loathing sprinkled as well.

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Unrelenting pain awoke you from your sleep. Creaking your eyes open as a wave of cramps attacked your body. Suppressing a whimper, you sat up, and the familiar sensation hit you, followed by the scent of your blood. Your eyes widened.

No. No. No. No.

You looked over at your sleeping mate, his brown toned back rising and falling with his breaths. Even in his sleep, Helion was regal. Shame swept over you like a violent current in the Summer Court. The first time you stayed with your mate in his court and you had gotten your cycle.

How could you be so careless?

You found out Helion was your mate 6 months ago. Swept up by his beauty and playful personality, you must have forgotten to keep track of your cycle. You spent most of your time admiring Helion and his freedom to express himself the rest spent making sure you were poised and presentable, suitable, for a High Lord just as your mother taught you. How living in the Autumn Court had taught you.

Helion's kindness and warmth had lowered your walls slightly, and you felt comfortable talking with him. Had you been keeping better track, you would have rescheduled your visit to the Day Court Your mother's voice rang loudly in your ears:

How would a High Lord trust you with an heir if you can't even keep track of your cycle?

Her words stinging in your mind as another wave of cramps hit you. Gritting your teeth to prevent you from crying out, you tried to move only for more pain to erupt from your abdomen. Sweat coating your brow, you breathed through the cramps, trying hard not to disturb the sleeping high lord beside you. Finally, the pain eased, and you gently slid out of the bed.

Turning back toward the mattress, you felt tears begin to form as a giant stain of blood glaring back at you. Your mother's voice rang out once more:

Stupid child, how can the High Lord ever respect a mate that sullies his finest sheets the first time she stays over?

You clenched your hands into fists so tightly you hadn't realized you broke skin, as two words kept repeating over and over.

Bad Mate. Bad Mate. Bad Mate.

You ran to the bathroom, right as you had shut the door, you were attacked by another aggressive wave of cramps. The pain over took your senses as you collapsed to the floor. The cool marble floor was a welcome reprieve to your feverish skin. You could only manage to focus on the pain you hadn't realized that you were screaming or that the bond was now open and everything you were feeling was being sent down the gold thread to Helion.

****************************************************

You heard your name being called repeatedly. You opened your eyes to meet the concerned golden hues of your mate's. Your body had fallen unconscious. You were so devoured by the pain to notice. "Sunshine, are you alright?" Helion's voice grounding you from the pain that began its relentless attack. He had laid your head on his lap his fingers running through your sweat coated hair.

"You aren't supposed to see me like this." You whimpered as your body rides out the pain, a fresh scent of copper flooding your nose as you cover your face in embarrassment. "Go back to sleep, I promise I will be okay."

Helion's fingers pulled from your hair and his hands engulfed your wrist, pulling them away from your face to see a fresh batch of tears. His dark brows furrowed, "You expect me to go to bed?"

You had forgotten about the bed sheets now soiled with your blood. "No, of course not, High Lord, not until I put clean sheets on, I will go-" You sit up and try to stand only for your cramps to send you back to your knees. A grunt of agony escaped your lips as toned muscular arms wrap around your waist and pull you back to a sitting position. He pulled your back flush with his bare chest, his body providing warmth to your clammy form. Helion places his hands over your womb, and his fingers begin to massage it, dissipating the pain. You sobbed at the relief his kneading does for the pain. Yet your mind still fought, "Helion, I have to clean up my me-"

Helion was swift to cut you off, "You will do no such thing. The only thing I want you to do right now is sitting right here with me and listening. Can you do that for me, Sunshine?" You nodded your head and leaned against his shoulder. His hands found yours as he intertwined your fingers, providing you with a sense of calm. "Good, first things first, you are never to call me High Lord. Ever! Unless my head is in-between your delicious thighs, then you may moan out my title as much as you please."

You hummed at the thought of your mate's tongue against you, your eyes fluttered closed, and Helion chuckled at the scent of your arousal. Another round of pain hit you, and Helion adjusted his hold so your knees and back were secure and hoisted you up. With his magic, he filled the tub with steaming water, and with a snap of his fingers, the two of you were undressed. He placed you in the tub, a moan escaping your lips as the heat of the water began relaxing your muscles. Helion slid into the spot behind you and began rubbing your shoulders.

"Sedondly," Helion continued, "When you are ill or in pain, I am responsible for taking care of you. I promised you as much when the bond snapped into place. No, I will not let you clean up your bloody sheets. No, you will not be bathing alone on your cycle and trying to manage your pain alone. I will not allow it. I want to take care of you. So please let me know." His lips find the side of your head and presses lightly. His long dark curls fall down your shoulder as he moves his lips to your cheek and down your neck, causing you to giggle.

After he stopped his kisses, he turned your head so your eyes met his once more. "This last one is important, so pay attention." He sighed and placed a tender kiss to your lips, sending love down the bond. "You do not have to be prim and proper with me. You are mine. I will love you no matter what. I've been trying to get that wall, your mother built around your heart, since we met. The wall that doesn't allow you to bask in the sunlight on a warm day. The one that doesn't allow you to dance with me in the kitchen like no one is watching. The one that doesn't let me kiss you in public, in front of our court."

"Our court?" You blinked.

His full lips curved into a grin, showing immaculate teeth, "Our court, did you think you were going back to Autumn after this visit, Sunshine." You blushed. That's exactly what you thought you should have known better.

You frowned slightly, "But It's not proper to sho-"

Helion growled, "Fuck Propriety! I love you. And I want everyone to know it." His eyes softened as he placed a tender kiss on your shoulder. "Sunshine, I want you to know how much I love you. I want to show you that love. I want you to feel comfortable showing me your emotions. If you were, maybe you would have woken me up to tell me what was going on. Because you weren't open, and you didn't tell me; I woke up to feeling this heavy pain in my chest realizing the pain was shooting down the bond, the scent of your blood and you screaming in the bathroom. When I found you unconscious, I..." He paused, and you placed a hand on his cheek, turning your whole body to face him. He shook his head, the beads in his hair glimmering in the fae light. He gave you a sad smile as he leaned into your touch. "I just want you to be comfortable here to be who your truly are. To be able to express yourself and to ask me for help when you need it."

You bit your lip for a moment for a moment before whispering, "What if I don't know who I am?"

Helion's smile gave you butterflies in your stomach as he pressed his lips to yours. Pulling away he placed his forehead onto yours, "Then we will discover who you are together. What a fun adventure that will be." His tone held genuine excitement.

"And you will still love me?"-

"Until my dying breath, Sunshine." He kissed you once more.

"I love you." You blurted out, heat rising to your cheeks at the confession.

Helion chuckled, "And I you, now let's get you cleaned up.

So Helion washed you from head to toe. As the two of you began to talk, you began to truly open up to him, and in the conversation, you forgot about the pain. He dried you off and gave you some linen to line your underwear to help with the bleeding, along with his shirt to wear, knowing you would find comfort in his scent.

He led you to the bedroom where there were fresh sheets, a steaming cup of tea, and a tonic for the pain. No male had ever been this attentive to your needs before. Tears began to run down your cheeks, and Helion was quick to kiss them away. "None of that. Come now." He had you sit on the edge of the bed where he tilted your chin up slightly and pressed the vial with the tonic to your lips, which you greedily took. Then he handed you the tea and made his way to his side of the bed. He watched as you placed the mug on the nightstand, and his arm snaked around your middle, gently pulling you toward his body. You laid down and adjusted yourself to face him. He kissed the tip of your nose and smiled, "Say it again, Sunshine."

You knew exactly what he was asking for. "I love you, Helion."

He pulled you close, your head laying on his bare chest. "I love you too." Your eyes drifted closed as you fell into a deep slumber, to the sound of your mate's heartbeat.