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queers-gambit · 6 months

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Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

[ part one of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader only description given: red hair

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part two: "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, And Let Me Love You Anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

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l3viat8an · 1 year

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☻ Obey me characters as TikTok ‘poetic rizz’ comments ☻

I’ve been collecting “rizz” TikTok comments so that I could post this jsjsjsjs (some of them are funny and ik a bunch of them are actually Edgar Allan Poe + others quotes!! but calling them rizz comments is funnier 🤭)

Lucifer

“I would rather have every single bone in my body broken than see you cry, for my body can be repaired, but your heart cannot.”

Mammon

“If I had a grimm for every time I though of you I would be a billionaire and the money I’d give to you.”

“I have 206 bones in my body, but when I see you I have 207!”

Levi

“I’m sorry I dont play call of duty. I only hear the call of your beauty”

Satan

“Without a pen or paper you still manage to draw my attention.”

“Your eyes are like clouds, for even when they fill with sorrow and drown the land, they paint the sky with unimagineable beauty.”

Asmo

“If beauty was the answer to all of my problems, you’d be the solution~”

“If I gave you a rose for everytime you crossed my heart, you would have but one, for you have never left.”

Beel

“Just as the autumn leaves, descend from the trees, I fall for you every season.”

“You must be wearing running shoes, because you have been running trough my mind since we met.”

Belphie

“Me and the moon talk at night, the moon tells me about the sun and I tell the moon about you.”

“For centuries, humans have used the stars to guide them on their journeys, but everytime I look into your eyes, I get lost.”

Diavolo

“If you are to be the sun, then I am to be Icarus, a fool fated to fall and burn before I even reach you. Yet even on wings of wax, I would fly to you.”

Solomon

“I don’t love you with my heart nor with my mind, I love you with my soul so even if I die it won’t stop…”

“Even if you had Medusa's curse, I would still look into your eyes. Although I will be turned to stone, I will be gazing at perfection for eternity.”

Barbatos

“They can say they love you, but I say, tell me every terrible thing you've done and let me love you anyway.”

“If I could express how much I love you with that phrase I would only say it once, for my love has come but it never goes so my statement holds true.”

Simeon

“Like a moth to a flame, I shall be eternally mesmerised by your warmth and mere existence, and I’ll give anything to hold you, even if it burns me”

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vivmaek · 2 months

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POETRY FOR YOUR MOON SIGN

✰ my masterlist poems written by someone who has the same moon sign as you <3

☾PISCES☽

Edgar Allen Poe, A Dream Within a Dream

“Take this kiss upon the brow! / And, in parting from you now, / Thus much let me avow – / You are not wrong, who deem / That my days have been a dream; / Yet if hope has flown away / In a night, or in a day, / In a vision, or in none, / Is it therefore the less gone? / All that we see or seem / Is but a dream within a dream.”

June Jordan, You Came with Shells

“You came with shells. And left them: / shells. / They lay beautiful on the table. / Now they lie on my desk / peculiar / extraordinary under 60 watts.”

Toni Morrison, It Comes Unadorned

“it comes / Unadorned / Like a phrase / Strong enough to cast a spell; / It comes / Unbidden, / Like the turn of sun through hills / Or stars in wheels of song. / The jeweled feet of women dance the earth. / Arousing it to spring. / Shoulders broad as a road bend to share the weight of years. / Profiles breach the distance and lean / Toward an ordinary kiss. / Bliss. / it comes naked into the world like a charm.”

☾AQUARIUS☽

W.B Yeats, A Coat

“I made my song a coat / Covered with embroideries / Out of old mythologies / From heel to throat; / But the fools caught it, / Wore it in the world’s eyes / As though they’d wrought it. / Song, let them take it / For there’s more enterprise / In walking naked.”

W.B Yeats, The Lover Tells of the Roses in His Heart

“All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, / The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, / The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, / Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. / The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart, / With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold / For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.”

Louisa May Alcott, The Lay of a Golden Goose

“Oh! Be not rash,” her father said, / A mild Socratic bird; / Her mother begged her not to stray / With many a warning word. / But little goosey was perverse / And eagerly did cry, / “I’ve got a lovely pair of wings, / Of course I Ought to fly.”

☾CAPRICORN☽

John Milton, Sonnet 19

“When I consider how my light is spent, / Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, / And that one talent which is death to hide / Lodged with me useless, through my soul more bent / To serve therewith my Maker,”

Jala al-Din Rumi, The Guest House

“This being human is a guest house. / Every morning a new arrival. / A joy, a depression, a meanness, / some momentary awareness comes / As an unexpected visitor. / Welcome and entertain them all! / Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, / who violently sweep your house / empty of its furniture, / still treat each guest honorably. / He may be clearing you out / for some new delight. / The dark thought, the shame, the malice, / meet them at the door laughing, / and invite them in. / Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent / as a guide from beyond.”

Gwendolyn Brooks, a song in the front yard

“I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life. / I want a peek at the back / Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed / grows. / A girl gets sick of a rose.”

☾SAGITTARIUS☽

Lewis Carroll, A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky

“In a Wonderland they lie, / Dreaming as the days go by, / Dreaming as the summers die: / Ever drifting down the stream – / Lingering in the golden gleam – / Life, what it is but a dream?”

Dante Alighieri, From “Inferno”

“It’s the pain / of the people down there that empties my / face. / It’s pity / that you’ve mistaken for fear. / And it’s the long way / that pushes us now. / Let’s go.”

Victor Hugo, Tomorrow, At Dawn

“Tomorrow, at dawn, at the hour when the countryside whitens, / I will set out. You see, I know that you wait for me. / I will go by the forest, I will go by the mountain. / I can no longer remain far from you. / I will walk with my eyes fixed on my thoughts, / Seeing nothing of outdoors, hearing no noise / Alone, unknown, my back curved, my hands crossed, / Sorrowed, and the day for me will be as night.”

☾SCORPIO☽

Sarojini Naid, Autumn Song

“Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow, / The sunset hangs on a cloud; / A golden storm of glittering sheaves, / Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves, / The wild wind blows in a cloud. / Hark to a voice that is calling / To my heart in the voice of the wind: / My heart is weary and sad and alone, / For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, / And why should I stay behind?”

Shel Silverstein, Dreadful

“Someone ate the baby. / It’s absolutely clear / Someone ate the baby / ‘Cause the baby isn’t here. / We’ll give away her toys and clothes. / We’ll never have to wipe her nose. / Dad says, “That’s the way it goes.” / Someone ate the baby.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Aftermath

“When the summer fields are mown, / When the birds are fledged and flown, / And the dry leaves strew the path; / With the falling of the snow, / With the cawing of the crow, / Once again the fields we mow / And gather in the aftermath.”

☾LIBRA☽

Maya Angelou, Caged Bird

“A free bird leaps / on the back of the wind / and floats downstream / till the current ends / and dips his wing / in the orange sun rays / and dares to claim the sky.”

Emily Dickinson, Good Morning – Midnight

“Good Morning – Midnight – / I’m coming Home – / Day – got tired of Me – / How could I – of Him? / Sunshine was a sweet place – / I liked to stay – / But Morn – didn’t want me – now – / So – Goodnight – Day!”

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, My Heart and I

“You see we’re tired, my heart and I. / We dealt with books, we trusted men, / And in our own blood drenched the pen, / As is such colours could not fly. / We walked too straight for fortune’s end, / We loved too true to keep a friend ; / At last we’re tired, my heart and I.”

☾VIRGO☽

Robert Hayden, Those Winter Sundays

“Sundays too my father got up early / and put his clothes on in the blueback cold, / then with cracked hands that ached / from labor in the weekday weather made / banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. / I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking / When the rooms were warm, he’d call, / and slowly I would rise and dress, / fearing the chronic angers of that house, / Speaking indifferently to him , / who had driven out the cold / and polished my good shoes well. / What did I know, what did I know / of love's austere and lonely offices?”

Jack Kerouac, How to Meditate

“Thinking’s just like not thinking- / So I don't have to think / any / more”

William Faulkner, Study

“Muted dreams for them / for me / Bitter science. Exams are near / And my thoughts uncontrollably / Wander, and I cannot hear / The voice telling me that work I must, / For everything will be the same when I’m dead / A thousand years. I wish I were a bust / All head.”

☾LEO☽

Walt Whitman, I sing the Body Electric

“I sing the body electric, / The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,”

Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol

“Yet each man kills the thing he loves, / By each let this be heard, / Some do it with a bitter look, / Some with a flattering word, / The coward does it with a kiss, / The brave men with a sword!”

Ralph Waldo Emerson, Friendship

“A ruddy drop of manly blood / The surging sea outweighs, / The world uncertain comes and goes; / The lover rooted stays. / I fancied he was fled, – / And, after many a year, / Glowed unexhausted kindliness, / Like daily sunrise there. / My careful heart was free again, / O friend, my bosom said, / Through thee alone the sky is arched, / Through thee the rose is red; / All things through thee take nobler form, / And look beyond the earth, / The mill-round of our fate appears / A sun-path in thy worth. / Me too thy nobleness had taught / To master my despair; / The fountains of my hidden life / Are through thy friendship fair.”

☾CANCER☽

Shakespear, Sonnet 147

“My love is as a fever, longing still / For that which longer nurseth the disease, / Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,”

Robert Frost, Acquainted with the Night

“I have been one acquainted with the night. / I have walked out in rain – and back in rain. / I have outwalked the furthest city light. / I have looked down the saddest city lane. / I have passed by the watchman on his beat / And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. / I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet / When far away an interrupted cry / Came over houses from another street, / But not to call me back or say good-bye; / And further still at an unearthly height, / One luminary clock against the sky / Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. / I have been one acquainted with the night.”

William Blake, Auguries of innocence

“To see a World in a Grain of Sand / And a Heaven in a wild flower / Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand / And eternity in an hour”

☾GEMINI☽

Rudyard Kipling, Blue Roses

“Half the world I wandered through, / Seeking where such flowers grew. / Half the world unto my quest / Answered me with laugh and jest. / Home I came at wintertide, / But my silly love had died / Seeking with her latest breath / Roses from the arms of Death.”

John Keats, To Sleep

“Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords / Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; / Turn the key deftly into the oiled wards, / And seal the hushed Casket of my soul.”

Lord Tennyson, The Eagle

“He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, / Ring’d with the azure world, he stands. / The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; / He watches from his mountain walls, / And like thunderbolt he falls.”

☾TAURUS☽

John Donne, Air and Angels

“Twice or thrice had I lov’d thee, / Before I knew thy face or name; / So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame / Angels affects us oft, and worshipp’d be;”

Audre Lorde, Recreation

“my body / writes into your flesh / the poem / you make of me. / Touching you I catch midnight / as moon fires set in my throat / I love you flesh into blossom / I made you / and take you made / into me.”

Margaret Walker, Lineage

“My grandmothers were strong. / They followed plows and bent to toil. / They moved through fields sowing seed. / They touched earth and grain grew. / They were full of sturdiness and singing. / My grandmothers were strong. / My grandmothers are full of memories / Smelling of soap and onions and wet clay / With veins rolling roughly over quick hands / They have many clean words to say. / My grandmothers were strong. / Why am I not as they?”

☾ARIES☽

E.E Cummings, Love is more thicker than forget

“love is more thicker than forget / more thinner than recall / more seldom than a wave is wet / more frequent than to fail”

Mark Twain, Genius

“But above all things, / to deftly throw the incoherent ravings of insanity into verse / and then rush off and get booming drunk, / is the surest of all the different signs / of genius.”

Paul Laurence Dunbar, Ships that Pass in the Night

“Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing; / I look far out into the pregnant night, / Where I can hear a solemn booming gun / And I catch the gleaming of a random light, / That tells me that the ship I seek is passing, passing.”

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random-brushstrokes · 22 days

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Nicolas Sternberg - Ligeia (1929)

This drawing depicts Ligeia, the brilliant, mysterious character from the eponymous Edgar Allan Poe short story of 1838. Ligeia was the first wife of the narrator and died tragically young, only to be mysteriously resurrected when the narrator’s second wife, Rowena, dies. The dead body of the fair, blue-eyed Rowena comes back to life overnight, transformed into the dark beauty Ligeia. Sternberg has depicted Ligeia as an exotic femme fatale, closely adhering to Poe’s vivid description of her strangeness and beauty: tall and slender, with hair “blacker than the raven wings of midnight” and eyes like “divine orbs”—large, shining, “the most brilliant of black,”—beneath “jetty lashes of great length.” At right Sternberg depicted another large encircled eye, a likely reference to the Symbolist artist Odilon Redon, whose work was influential on the artist. (source)

#Nicolas Sternberg #hungarian art #1920s

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syls-chaos · 6 months

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Wednesday Addams comes down for dinner with their braids cut off. Oh, Wednesday, how could you! Morticia cries. How could you come up with something so beautifuly horrifying? She ruffles their hair and offers to go shopping for new clothing if they don't like what's in their closet anymore. After all, with a ominous hairstyle like that, one simply must have the closet to match

Pugsley shyly brings a 'friend' home one evening. Thing catches them kissing on the stairs. Gomez sits Pugsley down and starts explaining how to court a man.

One of their grandchildren goes by different pronouns every time they visit. They call the child beautiful and give the child knives engraved with each version of the child's name

Wednesday expresses worry about someone they met, alone, struggling to make ends meet, who eventually admits that they were disowned for getting top surgery. There's an extra seat at the Thanksgiving table that year, and showers of compliments on how handsomely their new child has dressed

A grandchild admits that they don't know why they haven't fallen in love yet. That they don't feel normal. "That's alright," Morticia assures them. "Normal is an illusion. What's normal for the spider is a calamity for the fly."

The family goes to Pride, all of the mismatched, odd, terrifying limbs of it. Morticia helps Wednesday paint a rainbow on their cheek

Gomez joins a line of parents wearing white angel wings, his dripping in glorious black, standing between crowds of yelling protesters, a physical wall between the slurs and the hate and his children, his children, as old as the children are. Many protesters are challenged to duels. None of them dare respond.

Morticia sees someone wearing a t-shirt that says 'Free Mom hugs', watches everyone that walks up and clings to them as though it's their only chance at parental contact for months. She marches over and demands one, as much as she loathes t-shirts-- tacky, normal things, they are-- and every child, young or old, there that day gets a hug, an assurance that they are simply stunning, and an offer of newt wing pie and an evening reading Edgar Allen Poe to Cleopatra, should they ever be lonely or afraid.

Morticia reminisces with Wednesday about a girl she once dated, oh the glorious days, and Wednesday smiles slightly, knowing they never have to be afraid to bring someone home. The truth about what girls and boys and non-binary friends they've kissed hovers on the kiss of their tongue They know, too, if they explain that none of it was romantic, that they've never wanted what their parents had, Morticia will listen. She might not understand, no, but will let her child be, to form whatever relationships seem best. After all, how can you raise an incredible child and then not trust their judgement?

#Addams family #Morticia addams #Morticia and gomez #lgbtq #queer #wednesday addams #queer acceptance #headcannons #this is my version of flash fanfiction

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 5 months

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Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter AU Crossover ideas. The Guild Edition

Part [I] [II] [III] [IV] [VI] [Vll] [VIII] [XI]

💰 Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald is destroying people of Teyvat financially. Fine print, written in English ("Oh, it's just my special paper. It's an ornament") in a contract, and most of Ninguang's finances are now belongs to Fitzgerald. And he is sure, that slimes can only be destroyed with 10 000 000 000 000 mora punch.

Spoils you even more. Doesn't matter, what you want, he will buy it to you.

🦝 Edgar Allan Poe will use his ability to kidnap people. He will make mystery novels, that can't be solved without knowledge from real world. He will left kidnapped people in a wilderness.

He will write a mystery novel specifically for you. Karl will often curl on your lap.

🐋 Herman Melville stays in the real world and takes care of you. Makes sure, that there are food in the fridge, that taxes are paid.

Scared Fontaine's people with disguised Moby Dick up in the sky.

🐙 Teyvat's waters are no longer save. Howard Phillips Lovecraft is now there, lurking, waiting. He is destroying ships.

Brings you beautiful fishes from Teyvat. Now you have a huge fish tank with unique colorful fishes. If you wish, he will bring blubberbeast to you.

🍇 John Steinbeck destroy crops with his ability. It was discussed, that, in case, he and Kyuusaku will fuse their abilities again. Kyuusaku have agreed to participate in this plan.

Brings your fruits from Teyvat. Will pick the freshest ones.

☕ Lucy Maud Montgomery, same as Poe, kidnaps people. But she won't leave them in the wilderness, no. She will keep them in Annie's room. Forever, if situation calls for it.

Lucy will keep you company, will make you coffee. Will bring you plush toys from Teyvat.

🪶 Louisa May Alcott will create plan after plan to bring "Creator's" followers down.

She will bring you new books. Will read them together with you.

👒 Margaret Mitchell is using wings to destroy Mondstadt's mills and vineyards. Her ability has nothing to do with elemental energy, so, Venti can't stop her.

Mitchell will bring you new clothes. Will bring silk from Teyvat. Will try to make you something.

♊ Mark Twain will do some sniper work. He won't kill anyone, but will cripple Knights of Favonius, millelith solders etc...

Mark will try to make you laugh. Will let you use Tom and Huck as dress-up toys.

✝️ Nathaniel Hawthorne will try to make "Creator's" followers stop believing in them. He will point at how they can't stop Geo Demons (Chuuya and Verlaine), Anemo's Witch (Mitchell), Mechanical Imp (Kauai), etc. Slowly will make people lose faith.

He will listen to you whenever you need, even in the middle of the night. Will be supportive.

_____

Tag list: @withered-blossoms

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #imposter sagau

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ghostselkie · 2 months

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Bird lady Lenore head cannons

Lenore does falconry.

She has a red-tailed hawk named Edgar.

Lenore works at a non profit bird sanctuary that rehabilitates wild birds and also takes care of birds that can't be released in to the wild.

this all started after on of the crows she befriended (oh, yeah she befriended the naborhood crows) lead her to a crow with a broken wing. She called up the local bird sanctuary to get the bird rehabilitated. But the break was bad, and while the bird could eventually fly again, it was never able to do so for long distances, so it would have to be kept in captivity. Lenore asked if she could adopt the Crow, and while the sanctuary does adopt out the domestic birds, this one was wild, but seeing as though she already had the necessary permits (due to falconry) they aloud her to keep it. She ended up working with them shortly after.

She named the crow Quoth.

Quoth comes with her to work cause ravens are social creatures so getting to interact with other birds is good for him.

The wild Crows she befriended come to visit Quoth sometimes

Quoth was skeptical of Annabel at first, though once he saw how close she and Lenore were, he was like "okay this lady is family now." He's very protective of Annabel now.

People always assume Quoth is a raven cause of his name, so Lenore has to constantly tell people about the differences between crows and ravens. The main one being that crows are more city birds, and ravens are found more in the country.

Quoth fucking hates Montresor.

Annabel eventually developed an appreciation for birds as well. Classic, my partner likes this so I will learn about it to make them happy, sorta thing.

Lenore and Annabel go on bird watching dates.

Annabel really enjoys watching Lenore do falconry stuff.

Lenore taught Quoth to say words. His favorite word is nevermore.

Lenore can identify a bird on sight.

Her favorite type of bird are corvids.

Lenore absolutely spoils her birds. Like she has an antire room in the house for her birds

She ended up adopting another bird, as Quoth needed a friend and Hawks aren't social.

@incorrect-nevermore

#nevermore webtoon #bird lady lenore #lenore nevermore #annabel lee nevermore #annabel lee x lenore #white raven #lennabel

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fishermanshook · 4 months

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"You look, oddly familiar." (surviors! x gn!reader)

INTRO

A prompt where you knew said Survivor before they came to the manor. Your reason for coming here? Probably because of them.

꒰wc꒱ 1.0k words (grammar and spelling warning, mentions of abuse in Female Dancer’s part.)

The Enchantress

You and the Enchantress were together a lot as kids, or has your growing age started to wipe your memory clean? Do you struggle to remember such personal moments the two of you shared? Such a shame, as it's been over 5 years and you've yet to trace her location down. Has she disappeared from the world entirely? Seems like it, doesn't it?

Oh. Wait. There's a memory. An old one for sure, but a memory is still a memory. You and Patricia had spent what seemed to be every waking second together. So much so that Patricia's "mother" had started to see you as her own. Another child to take under her wing, and she gladly would. You understand that, right? Had she not taught you enough? The two of you had made a habit of strolling through New Orleans together, knowing almost every face that inhabited every corner of the city. You'd be down there for any number of reasons. To pick something up, to look for new ingredients, or just to look around the place you know by the back of your hand.

If the two of you had spent so much time with each other, then why didn't she tell you where the hell she went? She never left a note, a letter, or even a single clue as to where she ran off. So yes, when you received a letter stating to know her whereabouts you followed. Was it dumb? Oh for sure. But you would take every chance you could get to find her. You didn't even get to go up to her when you spotted her, she already knew.

"I wish you hadn't come," The Enchantress says with her back turned to yours. "but I can't help but be happy that you did." She chimed, turning around with a smile and a strange-looking artifact in her hand.

The Painter

You were there when it all started. You know, his painting thing. At first, he was a mess, paint slobbered all over his hands and face like a child. But I guess he was a child when he first picked up the paintbrush. Who would’ve known he would never put it down?

As Edgar’s talent increased, he started painting other things. Boats in the river, flowers growing outside, people strolling around the park where the two of you frequented. His drawings decorated his room and cluttered his bedroom floor.

For your 12th birthday, little Edgar (in all honesty) had forgotten about your birthday. The thought of it struck his mind at 1 in the morning as he quickly grabbed for his paints before whisking out a canvas. Throwing himself into his work, he produced his first of many portraits of you. From that point forward, it was a tradition for him to paint you for each birthday. No matter how many fights you had over his short temper or accidental paint spills imported from the other side of the country, you still received a packaged painting. Wrapped in fine silk with a “happy birthday” note tucked in between the folds. For you, he spared little to no expense. That is, until he got older.

It has been over two years since you've seen the man and you haven’t received a single portrait since. Arriving at the manor, you find him in the garden alone, painting a familiar portrait.

“It’s nice that you remember my face, as I’m starting to forget yours.” Your voice nearly makes him drop his paintbrush, as he whips around to meet you. You in all your stunning beauty, god, how you’ve grown from the small child he once knew.

Female Dancer

It is either that you met Nata-Margaretha in Lakeside Village or during your shared time spent in the Hullabaloo circus. Both experiences that you will not forget, but time makes things foggy. It blurs memories that were important to your life that you can no longer recall. But for the sake of going to bed without a piercing migraine tonight, your brain tells you it was during the circus.

Ah, now you're starting to remember things. As memories (some unwanted) come flooding back to you about the circus. A curious place that produced good and bad thoughts. Your mind flashes back to before the accident when time was spent helping Margie (a nickname used widely throughout the circus by many of its performers) tame animals and perform new jaw-dropping tricks to stun the audience.

You remember when your ignorance of what was happening behind closed curtains came crashing down. When Margaretha came crying to you, sobbing that she needed to tell you something. She then began to show you bruises and cuts that littered her body, all deliberately hidden in places that couldn't be noticed unless further expected. To keep it short, you were shocked that "he" could do something this horrible, to decorate her upper body in purple and red marks. It was even more shocking that if anyone noticed, "he" would just brush it off and say that she got hurt while practicing.

At that time, you knew you had to get her and yourself out of there. A lack of knowledge has landed your friend with bruises, cuts, and unwanted love from someone she thought she cared for.

You haven't seen Margaretha since the fire. Actually, you haven't seen anyone since the fire. Not Mike, not Murro, not even Violetta. But following breadcrumbs as to where they all went earned you a one-way ticket to the Oletus Manor, maybe your questions will be answered there.

"Margie?" You almost choke on your words. Seeing her for the first time in so long feels nostalgic. (how old are you again?) She can't even respond, she can’t even believe it's you. All you'll get from her is a death-griping hug and a stained shirt accompanied by her ever-flowing tears.

note: I love you Patricia (writers block is kicking my a rn)

(2024)©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

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aphroditestempleimagines · 9 months

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Out of a fairytale (18+) - part 1

Pairing: Edgar Allan Poe x fem!reader

Colour: Sweet and romantic

Warnings: fluff, romantic sex, vaginal sex, fingering, oral (fem and male receiving) + 69, language, nipple play, orgasm delay (implied), outdoor sex, thigh riding, come swallowing, kissing, handjob, cold play, a bit of food, established relationship

Words: idk like 2000 and smth

Summary: You receive a curious present for your birthday; the peculiar book arrived in the mail first thing in the morning. When you open it, you are transported to a fairytale-like castle where your lover has scripted every detail to perfection.

Part 1 ~ Royalcore version 《

Part 2 ~ Gothic Version

The knock on the door caught you by surprise. Your heart fluttered at the thought of your lover’s image standing outside your house. Alas, your excitement was for nought, as all you gazed upon was a scruffy delivery man.

“Sign here”, he said after handing you a rectangular package. He held a receiver form in one hand, pen under thumb, and texted on his phone with the other.

“I didn’t order anything”, you objected.

“Is that your name and address?”, he said without taking his eyes from his phone.

“eh...y-yes?”

“Then sign here”, he pushed the form towards you once again.

With your birthday being just the day before you paid no more thought to the package’s origins. A lot of your friends were abroad and you were used to receiving presents from them by mail. It was only that...he was away as well.

Your pen pondered on the paper amidst signing your name. For the first time since you were seeing each other, Poe had to leave your home in Japan to return to America. On top of that, his work meant that he would not be allowed to see you on your birthday. He had called you early in the morning the day before to shower you with sweet words. But it was not the same. You took the package into your arms to compensate for the loss of your lover. It was not enough either.

You thanked the delivery man and retrieted into your home. The package was not particularly lightweight yet not really heavy either. As you peeled the brown wrapper you confirmed rather than realised that it was a book. Its white hard cover was beautifully bound with a rose ribbon bookmark hanging from the top, and the title “The Princess and the Poet” displayed in golden letters at the front. There was no writer listed on the cover. One would have thought after a year together you would had automatically guessed who it was from. But in the early morning daze that clouded your brain, all you could think of doing is open the book to check inside.

“ This is the tale of two lovers, who loved with a love that was more than love. The poet and his princess. With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven coveted her and him.”

Even as you read those first words your body was surrounded by a golden cloud of words, a cloud which shrouded your entire room and transported you somewhere new. Suddenly, you were standing in the middle of an internal garden. Your simple pajamas were replaced by an elegant pastel gown. Your heels clicked on the rose marble floor as you approached the Sakura tree in the middle. The small rosey petals were carried by a wind of unknown origin throughout the room. The small skylight at the crown of the dome let the light of the sunset seep into the ballroom, painting it in shades of soft orange and red. It did not take you long now to realise what had happened.

"I'm so glad you came", a familiar voice said behind you.

You turned around to see your lover standing at the entrance of the room. He wore a white and grey prince's uniform with a long one-shoulder creme cape. His hair was pulled back at one side exposing one of his eyes. He extended his hand towards you and gave you a regal bow. Even from that distance, you could see his cheeks and ears grow red as he did his best to act like the character he had created.

"Ed!", you beamed and ran towards him. You threw your arms around his shoulders and buried your face in his hair. The familiar scent of cologne, ink, and jasmine that surrounded you convinced you of his existence.

He wrapped his arms around you as well. You felt his hand behind your head as he buried his face in your shoulder. "I'm sorry I missed it", he said in sorrow, "I thought I had calculated the times perfectly"

"It's okay", you squeezed him in your arms, "At least now you're here now."

He lifted your head by the cheek and chased the draught away from your lips with a long-awaited sweet kiss. "I made two copies of the book I sent you", he said, "So no matter the distance, we can always meet here"

"Shouldn't there be a murder here?", you asked, "Isn't that how your ability works?"

He smiled. "I don't need a murder", he said, "Just a mystery". His arm held you close by the waist while he guided you through the ballroom to a white and golden door. It opened as the two of you approached to reveal a beautiful garden of roses surrounding a white marble gazebo. The sweet smell of the flowers accompanied you as you walked down the stone-paved path. He retrieved his hand from your waist as you reached the small building. He let you take his hand as you climbed the steps. Under the gazebo's dome, Edgar had scripted a luxurious set of pillows and sheets and mattresses, next to a plethora of the sweetest delicacies. He supported you as you took a seat before resting at your side.

"I brought us right to the ending", he said, "As the writer, I know it would be much more interesting for the two of us"

"I'm sure", you smiled and placed your hand over his, "I missed you"

He looked at you with those puppy dog eyes, as if he could not believe the words that left your mouth. He fell back to his awkward mannerisms as he reached for the strawberry cake in front of him. "You should try this", he hid his face behind the plate, "I wrote it was delicious so it should be delicious."

You gladly accepted the dessert, if only to reveal Poe's blushed cheeks from behind it. You cut out a small bite and brought it into your mouth. Your eyes closed; the sweetness of the cream filled your senses, only battled by the sourness of fresh strawberries. "It's delicious", you said as soon as you swallowed. You did not have time to open your eyes before Ed crashed his lips onto yours. His kiss was sweeter than the cake and bolder than usual. He tasted the sweet dessert in your mouth before pulling back. His entire face was redder than a radish and you knew he had intended for this scene to play out exactly as it did.

"Indeed", he said, trying to cover his blush with the back of his hand, "Delicious"

"You know", you put down the plate and fork, "I know what you're planning"

Edgar looked at you, the reddish tint never leaving his cheeks. "Do you?", his eyes looked at you worriedly as if he had been caught stealing.

You walked towards him on your hands and knees. He reclined backwards as you came close. "I do", you said climbing on top of him. You could hear his ragged breath as you crashed your lips on his. He cupped your cheek and pulled you closer so he could once again taste the sweetness of your mouth. You grinded your hips on him to spite him. You swallowed a moan from him before he managed to grip your waist and keep you still. "What's wrong?", your smile teased him as much as your body. You leaned close enough to whisper in his ear, "Isn't this what you wanted?"

His lips traced your bare neck. His arms were sweetly wrapped around your torso as if guarding a treasure. He span the two of you around, hand protecting your precious head. "You have no idea", his eyes were closed as he touched his forehead on yours. His lips were sweet, drinking your melodious sighs. Your body was encased underneath his, his knees on each side of you. You could feel his bulge brush over you each time he lowered his body enough to kiss you.

"And here I thought you were a gentleman", your fingers combed his hair as he kissed you right above the bust. His one hand was already undoing the laces of your dress, but he stopped at the sound of your voice.

He seemed genuinely worried as he asked, "Would you like me to stop?"

He had this adorable shimmer in his pleading eyes. You knew he hung from your every word. He had pulled himself away at the slightest notion of discomfort, even if it was a mere jest on your part. Even so, nothing could hide the undying desire that blazed inside him and made his heart and breath race.

"Oh Ed", you laughed at his sweet confusion, "I only want you to stop when you finally had enough of me"

He smiled. "You are asking too much my love", he leaned back over you. He pulled your dress down until your body was rid of it, leaving you in your undergarments. "If I do that, I shall have to continue for eternity", he placed your hands over your breasts before he climbed down between your legs, "Or at least until my heart sings its last beat".

He lifted your chemise and buried his face on your mount. His tongue slipped between your rosey walls as he held your thighs apart. He alternated between kisses and licks as his fingers began circling your sensitive bud.

"Fuck, ED!", you could not help your body from arching as his lips shifted to suck on your bud, and he thrust two of his fingers inside you. You were by now more than wet enough to accommodate them. He knew your body so well that they curled and hit just the right spots inside you to make your body quiver in desire. He seemed to be melting more and more at each call of his name. He climbed higher. With his hand still working on your lower lips, his mouth captivated your upper ones. He placed one hand on your nape as he broke the kiss, letting his moans explode on your skin. You felt his breath on your cheeks, his need in his voice. He scissored his fingers. Your legs lifted on their own as he pressed on your silky walls. You wanted him. Your hands reached for his embroidered coat and began undoing its golden buttons until they could reach beneath the silk white shirt that hid behind. You knew your hands were cold from the stone's chill, but only when he trembled under their touch and you felt the scolding heat of his torso did you realise just how much you were torturing him. You could feel your wetness as it dripped from you to his fingers.

He broke free. He shook his jacket off and threw it aside. He pulled his shirt and got his head tangled up in the white fabric. You laughed. You heard his light chuckle underneath the tent he had made for himself. You sat up and helped him pull it off. The moment he was freed he reached for your body and pulled you onto his embrace. Your hips met his as your core drenched his light grey trousers. He collided his lips with yours. Your kiss was like water to a dying man. His hands cupped your exposed breasts, thumbs brushing over the nipples in a way that had you aching for more.

You pushed him down. His body fell on the white sheet on which he had displayed the food, framed by the numerous delicacies he had prepared. His chest heaved, his expression painful as he examined your body with his gaze. He reached for the laces of your pulled-down corset but you pushed his hand away. Your eyes fixed on his, you slowly undid the garment, leaving you only in your chemise which you easily took off. A slight chill enveloped your body. Your hands clamped around your torso at the sudden breeze, your body slightly shivering. Edgar's warm hand cupped your cheek. He had raised his body to reach your lips. He pulled you against him, his one hand rubbing up and down your torso, his other moving your hips against his thighs.

"Ed..."

"I know my love", his voice was strained as he pulled out a condom from his pocket, "I want you too". He freed his length from his trousers and dressed it. He slid the tip by your needy lips but never past them. "I want you so so much", he whispered between kisses, "so so much"

His length finally penetrated you. He let out a large moan that mixed with the sound of yours.

"You're so beautiful", he said as he began working his thrusts.

He held your hips to meet his in tandem until his head fell back. His eyes kept trying to focus back on yours, to check if your pleasure was as delightful as his, yet he kept losing himself in its depths.

"Edgar!", you cried in happiness. You shot your hand down on the floor to support you. Your fingers curled, clutching the white tablecloth instinctively as your back arched in your body's delight.

"Gah", he reached to rub eights on your bud. His lips caressed your breasts as he planted kisses closer and closer to their centres. You cried his name again. His hips met yours again and again, each time more agile and rough than the last. "God", he huffed on your chest, "Stay with me forever"

"I will!", you cried. His scraped your spine with his nails to urge your body into a tremble. His other hand pressed harsher on you, his eyes, ever watchful on your expression as you melted in his arms. He had his own struggle as your walls squeezed him the closer he brought you to ecstasy. He sought comfort in your body. He distracted himself with more kisses and loving nips at your skin. At last you let go. Your body slumped as the knot way down deep burst under the skill of his sword. You could not feel the chill any longer.

His tired breath exploded against your face. A satisfied smile appeared on his lips. He pressed his forehead on yours. "I love you so much", he tucked your hair, wet from sweat, behind your reddened ears. He planted a chaste kiss on your lips, one which you did not allow to remain anything other than deep.

He pulled out, resting your hips on his thighs. He continued to caress you, but you could feel how hard he still was as your own juices darkened his pulled trousers. "Edgar", you kissed him, "You're not done"

"It's okay", his arms kept you close as he nipped at your neck. "It's enough for me that you are"

He could be so stubborn sometimes. "It's not for me", your hand reached down for his erection. Your fingers wrapped around his length, moving up and down until they removed the condom. Your thumb brushed what precum came from the end. Edgar had buried his face in your shoulder. His expression was hidden, but his sounds were ever audible as his touch desperately sought yours. You did not see when his hand scooped some of the cake until the frosting touched your lips. You had begun kissing him lower, climbing down, when they nudged at the side of your mouth. You let them in. The sugary feeling and the softness of the cream overp-

"Sit on my face"

"Hm?", his fingers were still in your mouth. You were happy you did not bite them, but it seemed that he had led them there intentionally.

He brushed his thumb over the corner of your mouth. "If you're going...to do this haah...", he could not control his breath now that your fingers worked faster, "I need to...to make you feel good too"

He averted his gaze as soon as you sought it. He was red up to the tip of his ears. You retracted your hand, licking his precum off your fingers before you pulled him for a kiss. "Okay", you said.

You turned your body around until your hips were above his face. You were careful with how much weight you let down, fearful to crush him, but his hands pulled you down against his lips. He greedily kissed every part between your legs before he let his tongue work your walls once more. He was much more forceful than when you two had begun, almost making you forget what you were supposed to do. You could not reject that this had been his intention either.

With your eyes still clouded, you buried your face between his legs, your hands blindly working at his length as you confessed your cries to his skin. You could feel the effect you had on him even with such a small effort. But that had not been the point. You wanted him to feel at the very least as good as he made you feel. You kissed his length at the side before taking it in your mouth. Your fingers continued to work down at whatever you could not take.

"Fuuuck", he breathed, "Y/n!"

Much like you could not focus earlier, now he was losing his edge. But not for long. He tested your core before finally inserting three of his fingers inside. You were still sensitive enough for a tremble to spread to your limps, but your body still accepted him gratefully. He dipped his other hand in the melted ice that was supposed to keep the champagne cold before he pressed it at the edge of your clit. You squeaked and closed your legs around him. It felt so good. He felt so good. You picked up your pace. He moaned against you but that only contributed to your own pleasure even more. You could not keep your body from the fall any longer. The cord snapped and he lapped at your entrance as you sat heavier on him. But he was not far behind, you could feel it in the heavy breaths he tried to hide by kissing your lower lips again. You could see it in the way his toes curled and his legs retracted as much as he tried to hold them planted. His hands held your hips as he fell back and cried for you. His breaths were desperate as his essence filled your mouth. You could not see his face, but his body lifted yours up and down simply with the strength of his breaths filling his lungs.

You climbed off him. He immediately reached for you and pulled you into his embrace. He kissed you on the forehead, then the nose. His arms wrapped tightly around you. He was taller than you, and so he opted to pull your face to rest on his chest as he pressed his cheek on your hair. His breathing slowly calmed down. His eyes were closed but he was not asleep.

"I've missed you so much", he murmured. His voice was always so expressive, so evident of the pain or joy he felt.

You held him tighter, hiding your face in his chest. "I missed you too", your whisper was almost inaudible; but he heard it and chuckled as he petted your hair.

You pulled your body upwards. You reached for two of the pillows you had scattered around with your dalliance and placed them side to side for your heads to rest. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing up and down your skin.

"You said this is a mystery novel", you told him, arms hooking underneath his before resting your palm on his back, "I'm curious, what's the mystery"

He smiled. "I don't think I'll reveal it just yet", he said, "And please don't do so either even if you find it out yourself." He placed another kiss on your nose, moving his body close enough for his forehead to touch yours once more. His one arm snaked underneath you. "Call me greedy", he said, "But I'd like to hold you in my arms at the very least a little bit longer"

He closed his eyes again. His lips were smiling as he appreciated the moment to its full.

You smiled too. "How could I ever object to that?", you told him and followed his example.

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

I never had a taglist until today but:

@stygianoir

This feels lowkey weird

#poe #bsd poe #bsd smut #bsd x reader #edgar allan poe #edgar allan poe bsd #poe x reader #bsd poe x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs smut

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vargaslovinghours · 2 years

Photo

Known for his stunning smile and striking gaze

#💟#Doodles #Art #Scriabin #Edgar #And Also With You #I've also gone ahead and added all the previous Strangels under that tag as well so have at it <3 #So many silly single images sparked lol #None from in-fic - that'll be next time òuó ✨#Just silliness since I was already drawing them and they were very much on my mind lol #Sharp-tooth Scriabin was Very much an image haha ♪ He's just so smiley! Love that #And since he has such sharp teeth clearly he's gotta be smooth from all directions that's how it works #Just a casual invitation lol #It feels very obvious that I drew that one later since the texturing and details are so much better lol ♪ Improvement!#I do really enjoy drawing all their details! For realsies! I just draw so condensed per page that I tend to run out of room :')#And it can be hard to keep the negative space clean lol - but I can still try!#He's gotta be a nuisance about it lol just drag him he'll catch up when he gets scraped enough #A raven has wings and it quoth - why not a dour angel?#I feel like the last one could work for them normally too but there's just something so fun and flirty with Demon!Scriabin ah ♥#I'm also especially pleased with how the lines turned out in that one ah #The light touch behind the fire!! I wish I'd had more energy to draw 'cause it was all turning out like that #It's so fun to draw when it goes well lol

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firstfloweroftheninthhouse · 7 months

Text

I just stumbled across an E. A. Poe poem I wasn’t familiar with. It’s titled The Sleeper???? As in Wake’s river bubble pseudonym. I would be willing to write it off as a coincidence if it wasn't for Alecto also having a Poe poem as an alias in Annabel Lee. And let me tell you, this poem is fascinating if you read in a tlt context with the presupposition that Tamsyn is unhinged enough to weave allusions to external media into her works as a form of foreshadowing. (spoiler: I am fairly certain she is)

Some highlights of The Sleeper include:

“I pray to God that she may lie

For ever with unopened eye,”

Which reminds me an awful lot of a certain ninth prayer: “I pray that which was buried remains buried, insensate, in perpetual rest with closed eye and stilled brain.”

“Looking like Lethe, see! the lake”

A reference to a river in Hades

“For her may some tall vault unfold-

Some vault that oft has flung its black

And winged panels fluttering back,

Triumphant, o'er the crested palls,

Of her grand family funerals- “

A description of a tomb being opened

“Some sepulchre, remote, alone,

Against whose portal she hath thrown,

In childhood, many an idle stone- “

A description of someone throwing stones against the door of a mausoleum - which to me feels really reminiscent of Wake futilely “throwing” baby gideon against the door of the tomb

Followed by:

“It was the dead who groaned within.” (within the tomb)

Which could refer to Alecto, but I actually lean toward Anastasia

Anyway, I made this post to beg you to go read “The Sleeper” and tell me what you think its implications might be because I am going a little crazy over here.

#Tamsyn please chill. I don't have enough red string or brain cells for this 4d chess nonsense #tlt #htn #the locked tomb #awake rembrance of these valiant dead #alecto tlt #tlt thoughts #htn spoilers #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth

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astrolocherry · 1 year

Text

from the complete tales and poems of Edgar Allan Poe

~ Aries: "Who calls you now - Arise! from your dreaming. In violet bowers, These star-litten hours- Up! Shake from your wing Each hindering thing: the dew of the night could weigh down your flight;"

~Taurus: "But now, my soul has too much room - Gone are the glory and the gloom. The black has mellowed into grey, And all the fires are fading away"

~ Gemini: "The noblest name in Allegory's page, The hand that traced inexorable rage; A pleasing moralist whose page refined, Displays the deepest knowledge of the mind; These names when rightly read, a name known Which gathers all their glories in its own"

~Cancer: "At midnight in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. An opiate vapour, dewy, dim, Exhales from out her golden rim"

~Leo: "Look round the now on Samarcand! - Is she not queen of Earth? her pride Above all cities? in her hand Their destinies? in all beside Of glory which the world has known Stands she not nobly and alone?"

Virgo~ "And by strange alchemy of brain His pleasures always turned to pain - His naïveté to wild desire - His wits to love - his wine to fire"

~ Libra: "The ring is on my hand, And the wreath is on my brow; Satins and jewels grand Are all at my command, And I am happy now!"

~ Scorpio: "Death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone Far down within the dim West Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best Have gone to their eternal rest While from a proud tower in the town Death looks gigantically down"

~Sagittarius: "By a route obscure and lonely Haunted by ill angels only, From a wild weird climb that lie, sublime, Out of Space - out of Time But the traveler, traveling through it, May nit - dare openly view it; Never its mysteries are exposed To the weak human eye unclosed"

~Capricorn: "It was my choice or chance or curse To adopt the cause for better or worse And with my worldly goods & wit And my soul & body worship it..." ~Aquarius ~ "A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrine All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, And all the flowers were mine"

~ Pisces: "And thus my memory is to me Like some enchanted far off-isle In some tumultuous sea Some ocean throbbing far and free. With storms - but where meanwhile Serenest skies continually"

~extracts from the complete tales and poems of Edgar Allan Poe (Capricorn Sun, Virgo rising, Pisces Moon)

#aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #edgar allan poe #quote

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hom3landr · 6 days

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Icarus Falling

Chapter One: Flight Risk

Homelander X OC

When Vought decides to shut down a failing experimental program, a little winged loose end is left. Years later, a bitter young woman named Dove lives in isolation under Vought’s close watch. Not quite human but not quite a supe, Dove must use her wits to survive when Stan Edgar appoints her to The Seven for unknown reasons.

Dove’s tongue peeks out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates on making her brush strokes as even as possible. The sudden garish swipes of polish scratch something in her brain. Her hands are steady now. She no longer leaves a mess all over her fingers from hands shaky with uncertainty. Instead, the ritual has become a balm to her constantly racing mind. The patience to achieve perfection is one of the few things that bring her peace. She prefers bright gaudy colors that irritate the eye. It makes her think of poison frogs and she envies their ability to maim simply by a touch. She wishes she could have had that mutation if she was destined to be a freak. She contemplates whether she’d like to try some nail art today. She isn’t good but that’s not the point. It’s not like anyone will see them anyway. No one ever sees her.

She neatly finishes her nail, happy with the final result. A bright neon green, her nails seem to shine in the beige bleakness of her Vought sponsored house. She supposes that she could make the place homier but she refuses. It feels wrong to make peace with what scraps Vought throws her. She refuses to take comfort in their blood money. Her body may bear signs of their interference but it’s still hers. Her body will have to be her home as it is the only thing she can trust.

Her feathers flutter gently as the oscillating fan blows lukewarm air on her. The sticky summer air lingers and her bare skin is damp with sweat. Her curls are pulled up away from her neck in hopes of some relief from the muggy air. Of course Vought didn’t feel like springing for working air conditioning for her. She guesses it’s because it’s not “cost-effective”

She stretches out her wings behind her, wincing slightly at the way her shoulder blades ache. They may be part of her but the human body isn’t made to have wings. Her muscles are forced to shift and pull in unnatural ways to account for the unfamiliar DNA. She’s no different than a poorly bred dog, too many elements being blended together and spit out without thought to nature’s elegance. The weight of them makes her constantly sore, even with the harness for support. It’s nothing fancy but the leather contraption helps take some of the strain off her back. Her wings are another reason she doesn’t decorate. Furniture tends to be a hassle more often than not when it comes to accommodating her. Couches and any chair with a back is a solid no-go, unless she wants a wing cramp. She’s currently sitting on her unfolded futon she uses as a makeshift wing-friendly couch.

She happily observes her nails as they dry, so used to boredom that watching the slick wet polish turn tacky is a decent passtime. She whistles a jaunty little tune along with the music playing softly on the radio. She decides that she will try some nail art. She could use a little cheetah print.

Alas, her relatively good mood instantly sours when a sleek black car pulls into her driveway. Her stomach turns. The only people who ever come to visit are Vought cronies, usually doing the bare minimum to make sure she’s still alive. Her house that was supposed to be her refuge becomes just another lab. She angrily screws back on the cap to her polish and sluggishly rises with a groan. She didn’t realize she’s due for another checkup so soon. She contemplates grabbing a shirt but decides they don’t deserve the privilege of decorum. She doesn’t feel like putting in the effort of trying to wrestle her wings into one. She never bothers when she’s alone.

Something still feels off and there is a prickle on the back of her neck as she watches the car park. She double takes when she sees the figure getting out of the car. It’s not some nameless lab tech. It’s not some suit here to chastise her for flying high enough to be seen. It’s Stan Edgar, the man whose machinations led to her fate but who never found her important enough to speak to directly. He’s almost a mythical figure to her and her throat tightens. She doubts this is another quick checkup to endure. This is something big.

Once more she wonders if she should grab a shirt. But again, she decides against it. Maybe she’ll get lucky and the shock of her nudity will give the old fucker a heart attack. Her shoulders pop as she shifts. Clad only in a pair of ratty denim cutoffs, she opens the door to stare brazenly at the leader of Vought with her hand placed impudently on her hip.

“It’s rude to show up without calling”

Much to her dismay, Edgar doesn’t even flinch at her exposure. Although the same certainly can’t be said for the two bodyguards flanking him. Even with their sunglasses, the tilt of their heads is an obvious indicator of just where their eyes are focused. She rolls her eyes internally despite never breaking eye contact with Edgar. She’ll die before she’s the one who blinks first.

“I thought a visit might be pleasant considering your…isolation.” He smiles emptily at her. She grits her teeth and fights the urge to spit on his fancy suit.

“I think our definitions of what “pleasant” means may differ. I consider it pleasant to have some privacy, Sir.” She cocks her head at him. Her wings fluff up with displeasure. She should probably use her manners in front of a man as powerful as him; especially one who technically owns her. There’s a tiny voice inside begging her to practice some self preservation. But then she looks at him and she remembers. He wasn’t in the lab with her but whatever tortures she had to endure were committed with his full knowledge and approval. As far as she’s concerned, he might as well have been holding the scalpel himself.

He seems as unfazed by her remark as he did at the sight of her bare chest. She clenches her fist as he looks at her like a bored parent waiting out their child’s tantrums while in time-out.

“Allow me to introduce mysel…” His polite greeting is abruptly cut off by Dove’s scoff.

Settle down. The voice inside her implores but she brushes it from her mind like flicking a flea.

“You’re Stan Edgar, Head of Vought. I know.” She replies, hackles raised at his infuriating calm. “You’re the one who dumped me here.”

He smiles.

Bastard

“A decision that was made with your wellbeing in mind. But if that is your grievance with me then allow me to supply you with some good news. May I come in so we can discuss it?” He asks as though she has a choice in the matter. They both know she doesn’t, not really.

She pauses, two sides of her viciously battling it out in her brain. One side wants to fight and push just to see how far he’ll let her go before his facade finally cracks. The other side just wants peace. She grits her teeth. If she wants him to leave, she’ll just have to endure his visit so she sighs and steps to the side. He nods and enters, flanked by his leering entourage. She does roll as her eyes at their stares this time and grabs a scarf she spies draped over the edge of a nearby table. She follows them over to the futon, threading it through her harness and tying it into a makeshift top.

She plops down on the futon, crosses her legs and looks up at him blankly. She doesn’t offer him a seat. Of course, there really isn’t a place for him to sit even if she did feel like being polite. The living area of her tiny one bedroom house is bare except her futon, a small table with the fan still whirring away and her radio, and a short cabinet that she mainly uses to store her collection of polishes and a few dvds gathering dust. The walls are blank and cold.

“You should let Vought know you are in need of some furniture.” Edgar remarks as he looks around at the sad state of her place.

“I’ll get right on that.” Dove says wryly. She has no intention to ask for anything from Vought.

“Actually, I wouldn’t bother just yet. That's one of the things I wish to speak with you about.” Edgar replies. Dove regrets sitting because now she has him looming over her. The power play was fun at the moment but she’s quickly realizing that Edgar has a way of making them feel pointless and immature.

“I didn’t realize you cared this much about my interior design.” Dove can’t help but retort.

“It does seem pointless to furnish this place considering you will be moving in the near future. I’m sure you’ll enjoy a place with a little more class.” He’s smug, clearly trying to lead her somewhere. He says it like he’s expecting her to jump up like her team just won the superbowl. There is always the undertone of condescension and superiority that makes Dove bristle. She’s known this man for all of ten minutes but that’s all she needs. She doesn’t even register the meaning of his words. She’s too angry and it clouds her judgment. She doesn’t immediately register that he’s offering her an out.

“Vought has class?” She bites out, her joking tone too harsh to be taken lightly. The hurt behind it is open and raw. Edgar’s smile drops. She should feel smug that she finally got the mask to drop. She doesn’t.

“I’m sure you think that your comments are cute but I came here expecting to talk to an adult, not a petulant child.” His voice sharpens but the pitch never changes.

Dove’s mouth snaps shut and she bites her tongue till she tastes iron. Her feathers fluff out involuntarily as she seethes. She’s tempted to snap back but she begrudgingly realizes that the sooner they can get through this conversation, the sooner he’ll be out of her hair. She frowns when she notices one of her still tacky nails has smudged.

Fucking great

“Fine, just tell me then.” She crosses her arms before promptly relaxing them, not wanting to let him know how much she’s pouting.

The corner of his mouth curls up but his eyes stay as empty as ever.

“How would you feel about finally putting your skills to good use?” He asks.

Dove double takes and stutters out a bemused laugh. Not once since they threw her out with the bathwater had they ever indicated she had any use besides what failed experiment they had been planning. She is baffled as to what they could possibly want with her.

“I think my current situation shows what Vought thinks of my skills. Can’t you get one of your precious little supes to do it?” She replies with sheer disdain.

Psh…Supes

Oh, she despises supes. Spoiled little brats. Spoiled pampered little brats. Vought’s golden children. They’re genetic freaks too but they get freedom and fame. They have lives and families. They only have to endure a little shot of go-go juice as a baby and the world is handed to them on a golden fucking platter. Meanwhile here she is, weak, hidden, abandoned. She had to endure endless tortures and for what?

“We need someone with your unique composition.” His face gives nothing away.

That doesn’t sound good.

“…Oh.” She shifts nervously. A sick feeling starts to brew in her gut. She becomes viscerally aware of the prickle of sweat under her arms and running down her spine “I’m not…going back, am I? You all promised me I wouldn’t have to go back there anymore.”

Edgar laughs. He fucking laughs.

“Yes and no, but don’t worry, we won’t have any need for that. I think you’ll enjoy what we have planned.” He replies with false peasantry. Dove inhales tightly. Her hackles are raised at the constant dancing around the question. She highly doubts enjoyment is on the table. When has enjoyment ever been on the table for her?

“Well, are you gonna tell me what it is?” She retorts sharply. The constant whirring of the fan grates on her strained nerves and in this moment she wants nothing more than to chuck it across the room.

Edgar nods at one of the bodyguards who steps forward to hand her a fancy embossed letter. She resists the urge to snatch it rudely from his hand. She minds her manners though, being careful not to rip the fancy paper. Edgar stares her down as she opens it. Luckily her nails are dry enough now to not stick.

Her heart stops dead as she reads.

WHAT THE FUCK

Her hands start to shake.

This is a joke

This is a joke.

This is a fucking joke.

What she is holding is a genuine, bonafide, official invitation to join The Seven.

Dove drops the letter like it’s a scalding hot coal. A furious stinging longing like nothing she has ever known throbs hot in her chest.

Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? For your pain to mean something?

“No.” She replies shakily. “No, I don’t want it.”

She does. She wants it so bad.

“No.”

She knows what she is. She’s not a supe. She will never be a supe. That had been quite clear to her with every broken bone, every bruise, every slice of the scalpel. She was deemed unworthy with every scribble of a scientist's pen. Her only claim to fame is not dropping dead from her inhuman slurry of mismatched genes like the rest.

Whatever worth she has, it’s definitely not as one of Vought’s shiniest gems. She doesn’t have the luxury of hope.

“No? I assumed you’d be glad for the opportunity. Especially considering your…situation.” He nods at her wings and she draws them closer to her body.

“I’m…not one of them. I’m all but human. What need could you possibly have for me in The Seven. I’m…” She cuts herself off.

Weak

That’s the whole point of her existence really. Vought wanted to create a new breed of supes that weren’t supes. People with abilities but without the pesky super strength that makes things hard to manage. They wanted to corner the labor market. Who wouldn’t want to hire a worker capable of more than a human could ever be while still being easy to control? So, they turned to animal DNA, to see if they could generate specific traits based on carefully selected genes. It failed, the constant deaths of the subjects deemed it too cost ineffective to keep trying. When they shut it down, all they had to worry about was one winged little loose end.

“You let us worry about all that. You’ll just need to follow instructions and smile pretty for the camera.” He reaches out to take a shaky hand in his, his demeanor unnervingly parental in this moment. He pats it soothingly. She fights the urge to flinch away at the touch of skin. She’s painfully unused to human contact that doesn’t involve harm.

“What kind of instructions?” She’s wary.

“I told you, let us worry about that. I promise it won’t be anything you can’t handle.” His voice has warmed considerably as he tries to gain her consent without having to resort to more unpleasant means. After all, no isn’t really an option. Vought owns her. The invitation is merely a polite formality.

“No,” Dove repeats more firmly, a steely resolve in her eye

“No?” Stan Edgar raises an eyebrow.

Dove doesn’t want to hear anymore. What they’re giving her is not an out but a golden cage. She’s Snow White being handed the poison apple. She won’t be a victim of Vought’s plans again. She won’t be that stupid.

“What makes you think I want to do anything to help Vought out? What makes you think a bit of fame is enough to make me forget the shit you put me through?” Dove stands, staring Edgar down. She clenches her fists and the body language of his guards changes immediately. “If you try to set my ass in front of a camera I’ll spill everything. All I want is to be left alone.”

Edgar remains unphased by her outburst. He’d expected as much. The reports from her check-ups had informed him of her temperament. He has one more card up his sleeve before things have to get nasty.

“I understand that you’re disgruntled by your previous treatment. As an apology and as incentive for joining The Seven, Vought would like to reunite you with your mother. Remain as a member for one year and fulfill all your necessary duties, and we’ll get you in contact with her.”

His voice fades out into a droning buzz.

I have a mother.

Dove’s head swims.

She tries to speak but the words catch in her throat. She makes a strangled noise at the revelation. What can she even say to that? How is she supposed to respond to her whole world getting flipped on its head? Unwanted tears prickle in her eyes as her knees give out and she drops back on to the futon.

She’s always been so alone but all this time…

All this time…

“How come you never said anything? How come I didn’t…” Her voice trails off. “You’re lying.”

A photo enters her field of vision and she takes it shakily. There is a young woman in the picture, with curly hair and dark familiar eyes, Dove’s eyes. She doesn’t look much older than nineteen but the resemblance is unmistakable. She's wearing an all too familiar medical gown and her hand rests on the subtle swell of her stomach. Her expression is solemn. Dove chokes down a sob as she softly strokes the woman’s face.

“She signed a contract saying that she did not want any contact with the child post-birth. In recent years, she seems to have changed her mind. She’s expressed a desire to reconnect. If you agree to our terms, we can facilitate a reunion.” Edgar explains.

Dove can’t take her eyes off the photo.

Her mom abandoned her. She abandoned her to Vought’s heartless clutches. She’d walked away without a care. Dove should rip the picture up and tell Edgar to stuff it. She shouldn’t feel anything towards this woman…her mother.

Dove had never known where she came from. Vought had never specified. Now she has a chance to know. What is her mother like? Is she happy now? Why did she leave her alone? Why does she want her now? Did her mom ever love her?

Dove is furious at herself for feeling conflicted even as questions fill her head. She has so many questions she can get the answer to.

“I…” Dove flounders. She doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want anything else. She hates this mystery woman who left her in Vought’s clutches. She needs more than anything to be held in her arms, this woman with the dark sad eyes.

Don’t you fucking dare! Something inside her pleads. You’re going to regret it. You will never be free from them

Dove swallows thickly and with the finality of an executioner's swing, she gives Stan Edgar her answer.

“I’ll do it.”

#homelander #x oc #homelander x oc #Homelander x Dove #OC Dove #The Boys OC #big nervous about this one #my first time writing oc fic #y’all have no idea how long this took #No Homelander in this chapter yet but he’s coming

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