#elia x reader

[witchofhimring]

A name of your own

I was originally going to make some fics for mothers day but was really busy so I couldn't get them done in time. Since this the only one I finished I will be posting, just belatedly.

Hope yall enjoy!😘

Summary: You would make a name for yourself outside of your fathers prophecies.

Relationships: Elia Martell + daughter reader (platonic)

She sat across from him. The man she had once loved. But right now she felt nothing. 

Elia Nymeros of House Martell known that to be a Queen took strength. She had seen her own mother bend, but never break under the weight of her obligations. The obligations of a Queen were to support her husband, and have an heir. And yet, how does one uphold her husband's demands when they harmed her child? 

“You have to understand.” Rhaegar pleaded. His purple eyes were shining. But it did not move her as they once did. Once she might have melted under the sight. Now the only thing she could think about was her children, and how this man had endangered their lives.

 And for what?

Oh that's right .Because Rhaegar was so in love he just had to make off with Lyanna Stark, starting a war. Mad King Aerys might be dead, stabbed through the chest. But many good men and women had died. 

Lewin Martell. Dead, killed at the Battle of the Trident. 

Lord Stark and his son Benjin. Executed for tying to seek justice. 

Rhaella Targareyn. Died in childbirth on Dragonstone. 

Thousands of poor souls. Dead. 

“You have no right.” Her voice was oddly leveled. Elia did not need to raise it. He only had to look into her dark brown eyes to see the anger set in them. She would never forget, or forgive Rhaegar for all the lives lost. But most of all, it was the fact that he put her children in danger. Raeneys no longer slept well. These days she was up half the night in terror. Though Aegon did not truly know what had happened, the baby now had an anxious disposition. Whenever someone other than Elia held him, he cried. When the door opened, Aegon turned his head as if expecting to be attacked. No words could express an angry mothers rage that was strong enough. 

The door opened. It was as if time itself had stopped. 

So this was Lyanna Stark. 

“Aegon’s been-” She stopped, because it was at that moment Lyanna saw Elia. It was the world's most uncomfortable tableau. 

Slowly, Elia got up. Elia was rather taller than she looked. Her slender form and dress often gave Elia the look of a graceful willow. But to Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen thought they were seeing something else. Her dress was like a sea of red. Black hair cascading down in waves. The last time they had seen each other face to face, Lyanna was wearing a flower crown and Elia, heavy with her third child. It made Lyanna feel small. Less than. 

“Aegon?” Elia’s attention was turned to the baby in Lyanna’s arms. So this was the baby. 

Suddenly it clicked. 

“You named him Aegon!” Her voice tore the throat. Rhaegar seemed to shrink. Many times Elia had to resist the urge to smack some sense into Rhaegar. But never had she wanted to actually hit him. At least until he had left her to die. 

“You intend to replace our children.” She was no longer yelling. But it would have been better if she had. Instead it was the cold, angry voice she used when her rage was just brimming. The only time Rhaegar had even heard it was the time he crowned Lyanna Queen of love and beauty. It made Rhaegar shrink in his chair. 

Elia then bent down, almost nose to nose with her husband. 

“And let me tell you this. Any child you father with her, will never replace mine. I promise you that.” 

Y/n Targaryen was the firstborn to Rhaegar Targareyen and Elia Martell. It had rained on the day of your birth. That year had been unbearably dry. So the rain was a great relief. For the first time in months, the ground would be able to bear seed. With a clap of thunder you were born, crying overtaking the noise outside. Elia had always wanted an identity for her children. So when it was time to name you, your mother fought to have a name that was not tied to some prophecy. 

Y/n. No Princess or Queen had ever borne the name. It was all yours. Unfortunately, by the time Rhaeneys was born Elia had lost influence at court and so Rhaegar was allowed to name her whatever he wanted. As a little girl you had never understood why it mattered. All you knew was that Rhaegar’s attention was all for Rhaeneys and Aegon, leaving you and Jon behind. For you two fell outside the prophecy. 

But you would always have your mother. On the nights that monsters reigned your dreams, you ran to your mother. It was always her who caught you when you fell. Most of your days were spent indoors with Jon and Daenerys, your aunt. Unlike the conquering Queens, you could wield no sword. That was a severe disappointment to your father. Every time he would see you sewing in the corner, Rhaegar simply looked away. Rhaeneys was a true warrior, like her namesake. Elia had frowned when Rhaegar had boasted about this. She then reminded him that Rhaeneys was great in her own right, not just because she had a likeness of a long dead Queen. 

You were jealous of Rhaeneys and Aegon. Not that you didn’t have a good relationship with them. As siblings you loved one another. But it was hard when he would pass you by and only have eyes for the children who meet his standards. 

Rhaenys and Aegon didn’t love their father any more than you. Ever since they found out how he had tried to bastardize them, he was not truly their father. It was only because the idea was so popular, and your mother threatening to bring the Dornish down on him, that he relented.

It seemed that not even his secret wedding to Lyanna had panned out as planned. She was not his Queen. Only the consort. And he had no daughter. Another child by Elia would kill her and Lyanna had no luck with pregnancies since Jon. You could tell it frustrated him to no end. Consort Lyanna was in hiding these days. Barely seen by the public. You only saw her during state occasions. In their youth, Rhaegar and Lyanna had run away and married, sparking a war. Now, they hardly spoke.     

Destiny is never laid out in the stories of the past, but in the actions of the future. That much you knew. And you grew to be grateful for it. You would be known as Y/n, not some other distant figure that you must live up to. And as you lay your head down at night, you knew your mother loved you for who you were. 

You would follow Daenerys and Jon to Essos. It had always been your dream to discover far off countries. Elia had cried, but knew you were a grown woman. Rhaegar hardly noticed. From the docs Rhaeneys and Aegon gave tearful farewells. And so you were on your journey.

Three years later, a Prince and two Princesses arrived in King's Landing. Daenerys the Unburnt, Jon the Undead, and Y/n the merciful. During your time, you had helped spread medicine across many places. Together with other knowledgeable forces, you had learned and taught much. Now and forever you would be known as a great healer. As your feet landed on the docs, your family and Rhaegar were waiting. At its head was your mother. With tears in your eyes you ran towards her. She swept you up in her arms. 

“Welcome home, Y/n.”   

[blueroses789]

The Princess and her Knight

Elia Martell x Reader

Ps: reader is born from a previous marriage making the Stark siblings her half siblings.

Elia Martell had always dreamed of being someone's princess. Y/n Stark always wanted to be a knight.

In very unusual circumstances a viper and a wolf find themselves intertwined.

note: simply wish fulfillment for Elia to get the crown she deserves😤

She was the Princess of Dorne. Descended from Nymeria and Meria Martell. You had heard these stories from the cradles. On cold winter nights Nan would tell you of far-off places where there was no snow and the days were hot. They unnerved your brothers, who felt that women had no business wielding a sword or holding power. But you were utterly transfixed. More than once you and your sister Lyanna would sneak off, swords in hand. When everyone was asleep, the two of you snuck around, pretending to be Nymeria on her journey to Westeros. As the oldest child, you were expected to set an example. Well, that would explain why Lyanna and Brandon were so wild. The three of you were fresh young wolves, eager for a taste of life. Those days, however, were short-lived. One day a message arrived from Kings Landing. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was going to marry Elia Martell of Dorne.

You wondered what this Princess was like. Was she fierce like Meria? Alive with unquenching fire like Nymeria? They called her youngest brother a snake. Perhaps she was one too. Half expecting to find a woman with slits for eyes and fangs, a normal woman was slightly more surprising. She was smaller than imagined. With bundles of silky black hair and warm brown eyes. Sun-kissed skin was draped in flowing orange garments. She smiled as you curtsied. And a warm hand touched your cheek.

Elia Martell knew little of the north. It was a cold distant place, quite unlike home. She heard of the Northern Kings, the great walls and mysterious creatures known as the Others. Born sickly, Elia spent most of her time reading. She was encouraged to read books with filled with history and numbers. At night, when Oberyn finally left her room, she pulled out the other books. These were not books her family approved of. Not that they belittled her for it, but a Dornish Princess was expected to be more practical. “We are Princesses of Dorne, not some silly little southern girl. We are descended from warriors, not maids.” Is what Elia’s mother told her. She knew her family loved her dearly. But she wished they could understand. She wanted a world where she could be loved and love back. The stories where love conquered all. Her favorite was Aemon the Dragonknight and Princess Naerys. Even if the Targaryens were their centuries-old enemies, the story of Aemon loving his sister so fiercely it a fire in her. Of course, she was loved. But Elia wanted someone to hold her dear, just as Aemon held Naerys. So even as Elia got ready to marry Prince Rhaegar, there was an ache.

The Stark Banners flew over the procession. Like your sister Lyanna, you chose to ride on horseback. It was the day of Rhaegar’s marriage to Princess Elia. The procession was an endless line of Westeros’s greatest houses. “Look!” Lyanna pointed to a minstrel show on the side. It was a reenactment of Prince Aemon crowning his Naerys the Queen of Love and Beauty. The sept of Balor was packed to the brim. The crowd roared outside. Luckily, as the eldest daughter of House Stark, you had the honor of seeing everything in person. Elia was just as small as you remembered her. Rhaegar looked as though he could dwarf her.

Your next interaction with the princess was during the dance. Dancing had never been your forte. So as your father and oldest brother were busy, you slipped away. Eddard sat glumly in a corner as Lyanna and Brandon made themselves the life of the party. They could take care of themselves. You moaned in relief as you loosened your corset. A warm wind came up from the city. Your place on the balcony allowed you to see every light below. “Thank the Gods.” You sighed.

Elia was relieved to take a break. She loved dancing, but could only take so much of it. Oberon had offered to accompany Elia, but she refused. She needed to be alone. Every woman knew what was expected on their wedding night. Elia was ashamed to find tears behind her eyes. She was supposed to be the perfect lady, the perfect princess. But she was so scared. This act would be the last bit of her childhood stripped away. Oberon would leave, and she would be Elia Targaryen. The dark halls offered a brief comfort. It was a blessed moment out of the glare of court. Up ahead she saw a balcony. Quickly, Elia picked up her pace. Being a lady be damned she was going to get air.

“Thank-” She was not alone. A woman dressed in blue straightened her posture. Elia was stuck. There was a sort of wild beauty about her. It was so unlike the ladies at court, or even her own. But something so free and spirited. The girls h/c hair was let loose to her waist. E/c eyes, wild as the free forests beyond the walls. Maybe these thoughts were overly romantic. But Elia couldn’t help feeling them. “Your Grace.” She quickly jumped into a curtsy. “May I inquire about your name?” “Y/n of House Stark, Your Grace.” “Well, Y/n of House Stark, would you accompany me to the gardens?” The girl looked shocked, but not displeased (much to Elia’s relief). Y/n offered her arm, much in the way a knight might to his lady.

“It must be a very long way from Dorne. Do you find it cold here?” “Not much. Dorne is not always so hot. Do you find this too warm for you?” “A bit. It has been a cold winter.” The two of you had walked to the Weirwood Tree. Elia walked towards the tree and placed thin fingers upon its branch. The bark was like nothing she had felt before. It was both rough yet soft to the touch. “Isn't it beautiful.” Y/n’s fingers brushed the leaves. “Are there many of these trees up north?” Elia asked. “They're not all that common. You know we have one up at Winterfell.” A longing look passed over the girl's face. “Is everything well Lady Stark?” “It's just that this tree looks so lonely here. Weirwoods belong in the north.” At that moment, Elia knew this girl was as homesick as she herself was.

You had only been back at Winterfell for two months when Queen Rhaella sent for you. Lyanna had snuck up some lemon cakes from the kitchen. Benjin, Lyanna, and yourself were quite happy to finish. “Do you think we should share these with Brandon and Eddard?” Benjin took a bite out of the cake. Lyanna shook her head vigorously. “They’re too old for lemon cakes anyway.” Said you, older than Eddard and Brandon. That was when it happened. All three of you heard your father's footsteps down the hall. “Quick!” You covered the lemon cakes and shoved them under the bed. Not a moment later Lord Rickard Stark burst in, pride all over his face. “Y/n, you have been summoned to serve Princess Elia.” All three of you stood there, thunderstruck. It was Lyanna who burst out first. “What!?” She howled. Richard sent her a look and focused on you. “Y/n, may I speak with you?” It was with ill grace that Lyanna and Benjin left. Your father took a seat by the fireplace. You followed his example. “Y/n, as much of an honor this is, I want to make sure this is alright with you.” Lord Richard had always intended to sow roots in the south. But giving his eldest daughter to that pit of dragons, known as the Red Keep, made him pause. This was to be expected. You always knew one day you would leave. The court was stifling. You didn’t want to go. But you also didn’t want to let down your father. And then there was Princess Elia. She seemed sweet the last time you met her. “If it is your wish, so be it.”

Elia didn’t know why she was fussing over her appearance. Today she wore a Targaryen red. Elia didn’t like the colour. She wanted her oranges, yellows and whites back. King Aerys had a habit of giving unwanted comments regarding her Dornish style. She sat on a throne-like chair in her quarters, surrounded by her ladies. Among their numbers were Ashara Dayne, Malaria Sand and Nymeria Martell. At least she had been allowed to keep three of her friends. The doors swung open and Y/n entered. This time, her hair was done up. She wore soft blue fabric with wolves along the edges. “Your Grace.” You dipped into a curtsy. Elia stood up. “Lady Y/n, it is a pleasure to see you again.” Elia’s lips touched Y/’s cheek. It was cold as ice.

Despite how cold Y/n may have felt, everything else about her was warm. There was something about her voice, eyes and gentle hands that reminded Elia of the warm wind rolling over the sand. She was quiet, rarely voicing her opinion. But there was a tenderness Y/n showed that Elia had rarely felt. Perhaps it was the way Elia was used to being treated in Kings Landing. Y/n seemed to know what she needed. What she wanted. It was the small things. Like Y/n brushing her hair after a hard day, or making her a crown of Weirwood leaves.

Elia had never enjoyed rude health. That was what Nymeria Martell had told you. Though Elia tried to hide it, you could soon tell. She got exhausted quickly, sometimes had a delicate stomach and every month her period nearly made her collapse. Despite this all, she kept strong. That was what you admired about her. She truly embodied the words of her house. Unbowed. Unbend. Unbroken. She was a true lady. But you could tell that Elia wished for something more. One time, you had been training when Elia chanced upon you. At first you thought her angry. But you came to realize it was a longing. A longing to not be so constrained. So one day you decided to take her out for a ride. The rest of the ladies watched nervously as you helped Elia onto a steed. You had chosen a big northern horse. One that was stable and wouldn’t bolt. You got on behind Elia. Elia relaxed against you, black hair let loose. The wind whistled past you. Elia giggled as her fingertips brushed the leaves overhead. “Can you take me to the meadow?” “I am yours to command.” A laugh passed your lips. Just beyond this forest was a meadow owned by the royal family. “Over there!” Elia pointed to a warm spot with soft grass. Elia sat on the blanket you laid down. “I do think we have lost the rest!” It was another few minutes before the rest galloped into the clearing.

Later that night Elia found herself alone with Y/n, yet again. Elia, feeling better than most days, went for a walk with her. With laughter on her lips, Y/n gushed over the thrill of horse riding. Elia’s head rested against your shoulder, tired-eyed. Y/n sat down under the tree, bringing Elia with her. “Thank you Y/n.” Elia tangled her fingers with Y/n. “Would you like to do it again?” Elia nodded. Suddenly, she shivered. A wind had blown from the north. Not used to the cold, she shivered against Y/n. Immediately Y/n tossed off her cloak and put it over Elia’s shoulders. Her fingers went over the fine needlework. Despite their differences, one thing both girls were good at was sewing. On the back was the head of a dire wolf, the sigil of House Stark.

Elia’s first birth had been hard. You were woken by the feeling of something warm and wet against your thighs. At first, you thought Elia simply had an accident. But the metallic smell that reached you told a different story. Quickly you lit a candle and pulled back the sheet. Blood pooled between Elia’s legs. Gently so as not to alarm her, you woke Elia up. Before you could say anything Elia clutched her pelvis and moaned. You shook awake Lady Ashara and she in turn woke the midwife. Soon the room was bustling where once it had been quiet. You weren’t sure how long it lasted. Elia clutching your hand all the time. She bore the pain remarkably well. That was the price one paid with Elia’s condition. The midwives had Elia walk from one end of the room to the other. The sun was well in the sky when the midwife laid Elia down. “Y/n… if I die..” Your hand smoothed her black hair back. It burned to the touch. “Don’t say that. You’ve done so well.” Under your breath, you muttered old Northern prayers. Even a few to the Seven and Mother Royne. Finally, the baby came. A little girl, small and perfect. The midwife placed her in your trembling arms. “Elia, you did it.” Too weak to hold her baby, Elia touched the baby's chubby cheek. For one blessed moment, it was just you and Elia. Together in your world with the baby. Your serenity was broken. Rhaegar burst in. “My daughter! It’s a girl, right?” Relief swept through your veins. At least he would not be disappointed. Rhaegar took her from your arms. “We shall call her Rhaenys.”

Was it alarming how quickly Rhaegar had chosen the baby's name? Elia liked Rhaegar, perhaps even loved him. She took pleasure in their couplings, and he was kind. But recently something dark had settled over their lives. He spent more time at his desk reading rolls upon rolls of paper. Elia had tried to help, but he rejected any attempt. Rhaegar naming Rhaenys without her consent was the most startling. While most wives did bend to the will of their husbands. But even so, to make a decision like this without so much as consulting her was worrying. It also tickled her pride. Was she not his wife, a princess, and future Queen? Elia didn’t voice her frustrations, but the beginnings of resentment were starting to take root.

Elia had been absolutely bedridden. While Elia slept, you took Princess Rhaeneys outside to the courtyard. A wet nurse and nanny followed in your wake. The baby was swaddled in layers of soft fur. The baby took after Elia the most. With delicate features and short black hair. “Aren’t you the cutest little thing, hm?” Your finger brushed her forehead. “Lady Stark.” It was the King. The three of you sunk down into a curtsy. “Lady Stark, how is my wife?” “She is getting better, your Grace. Though still very tired. Would you like to hold your daughter?” You held out the baby. Rhaegar pressed himself very close. So close in fact that his nose was just inches from yours. Uncomfortable, you stepped back.

The Prince Who Was Promised. It was the prophecy passed down from ruler to heir for three hundred centuries. One day the Song of Ice and Fire would come, and the night of darkness driven away. He had correspondents in the North. And things were not looking peaceful beyond the wall. In fact, events progressed alarmingly fast. Wildlings were starting to form groups, and corpses rose where the sun did not dare shine. He needed the three heads of the dragon. He needed the Prince that was Promised. Elia had done well to fall pregnant quickly. And better yet, it was a girl. From the delicate look of her features and gentle purple eyes he knew her to be a Rhaenys. But there was always one part that bothered him. It said the Song of Ice and Fire. The fire aspect came in. But where the ice? Perhaps it would be his future Aegon’s wife, an ice bride. But could they wait that long? Would the Song of Ice and Fire come true in time? It had been another long night of scroll searching. After only a little sleep, he set out. The cold hair did well to rouse him from exhaustion. Rhaegar was strolling in the courtyard when he saw her. He recognized the lady as Y/n Stark, eldest daughter of Lord Stark. The second their eyes met, Rhaegar's chest contracted. Now this was a Visenya. With a wild, harsh beauty and muscles defined by years of training. Almost without thinking he walked up to her. He didn’t even hear what she had to say. This was ice.

Rhaegar was visiting more frequently. It was sweet to see him hold his daughter and sing to her. He even spent time with her ladies, dancing and singing to them. At first, like many, you found this change quite nice. Who wouldn’t want to be sung to by a prince? But Rhaegar had an ulterior motive. You never liked the way he gripped you. It was like vines over brick. Like he might bind himself to you. At first, you convinced yourself it was all in the head. But Rhaegar had a habit of suddenly popping up in unexpected places. Before, you had hardly exchanged a word. Now, he seemed to be everywhere.

“I hear blue roses grow in Winterfell.” Elia had gone to change for bed, leaving you and Rhaegar in the same room. He had stopped you from leaving. It was awkward to say the least, sitting here so closely to the Prince, a married one at that. “Yes, they grow in our greenhouse.” You replied. He was looking at you so intently. “And I assume they are very beautiful.” “I think so. My sister likes to make them into crowns.” “Tell me about your sister.” “Lyanna has only just turned thirteen. You saw her at the wedding, brown hair and gray eyes.” “And does she use a sword like you do?” “Yes, and horse riding is a passion of hers.” Suddenly, Rhaegar’s hand came up to your face. He brushed strands of hair out of your face. “I wouldn’t mind bringing blue roses to Kings Landing, My Lady.” Your heart dropped.

You now knew what his intentions were. Despite your lack of romantic interaction, it was obvious. And why in the name of the Old Gods did it have to be you! Rhaegar, unlike most previous Princes, had the reputation for being faithful to his wife. So why is he focused on you?! Your greatest fear was that Elia would find out. Would she hate you? The thought made you puke.

Elia was pregnant six months after her ordeal. That was when Rhaegar had the brilliant idea that the best place for Elia was Dragonstone. And my Gods was it the worst place you had ever visited. It was damp and cold. Elia spent most days bundled under the furs of her bed. For once her work remained undone. Elia had truly hit her limit. One night, you had finished singing a sleeping Elia a Roynish lullaby, when Rhaegar came in. Your hands tightened. “Lady Y/n, I see my wife is asleep.” “Yes.” You hoped he would leave. Instead he walked over and sat on the bed. You didn’t know whether to leave or stay. “I hear you are unmarried, My Lady.” You knew where this was going. “My father intends for me to marry Lord Baratheon.” You wanted to squash any ideas he might have. “You need not marry him, or is that your wish?” Was he serious!? Of course you would! At that moment it became too much. “Please Your Grace, I am very exhausted and am unable to entertain you any longer.” Your voice trembled with suppressed fear and rage. Something in Rhaegar’s Valyrian purple eyes changed and he gripped your hand. “Meet me in the caves, tomorrow after breakfast.”

Breakfast was hard to stomach. You could feel Rhaegar's eyes on you. It became too much. You vomited. That was all you could do after breakfast. Stumbling to the lavatory you hunched over. “Y/n!” Elia caught you by the arm. Steadying yourself against her, it was hard to walk. She walked you out of the room. Unfortunately, someone followed you. “Lady Y/n, I’ve been seeking your company.” Of course, it was Rhaegar. Because he couldn’t help turning up at unpleasant moments. “I think Y/n better rest.” Elia lead you away. “Wait.” Rhaegar had seized your arm. What happened next shocked you. The second Rhaegar had you, Elia tore his hand off. “She is unwell.” There was a steely bite to her voice. Before Rhaegar could do anything more, Elia led you away.

Fire and Blood. The famous saying of house Targaryen. But what of House Martell? Was their sigil not the sun? Perhaps Rhaegar was under the assumption that the blood of Martell was not as hot as his. Well, he was about to discover otherwise. Rhaegar had been reading his scrolls when Elia burst in, without ceremony. Never in her life had Elia felt so enraged. For the first time it was impossible to bottle her feelings up. Her fingers itched to tear at his face. She actually hated him. Elia had noticed a change in Y/n’s demeanor as of late. Where once she had been happy and cherrful, now Y/n was like a shadow. How when Rhaegar visited Y/n shrunk away. Every time Rhaegar approached Y/n, which was alarmingly often, she recoiled from his touch. The day when Elia had fallen asleep in her arms, she woke to Rhaegar storming off. Y/n, still clinging to her, sobbing openly. Something akin to jealousy stirred up in Elia’s chest. But much stronger like a storm. It had a grip on her heart. It kicked at her stomach. This was a different sickness. Instead of being laid low, it made her want to rage “You keep away from her.” Elia’s hands slammed into the table, fingernails piercing its surface. “Whom do you speak of?” Rhaegar looked up at her coolly. “You know who. Do not play a fool with me, Rhaegar Targaryen.” Rhaegar set down the scrolls. “Elia, the purpose of this matter is much greater than you and I.” Elia let out a derisive snort. “Getting your prick wet is hardly a great matter.” “I believe it is time to tell you. Elia, I must tell you the Song of Ice and Fire.”

“He’s as mad as his father.” Elia lay awake that night. Did he truly need Y/n for this “prophecy”. No wonder the Targaryens went mad, if they all followed this. Elia turned over to where Y/n lay. This past year Y/n had been the one to sleep beside her when Rhaegar was nose-deep in scrolls. While it was not required, Elia hated being alone. Y/n turned, facing Elia. She looked so calm, so peaceful. Elia held her cold hand, she then moved closer. That night, Elia swore nothing would ever happen to Y/n.

And so Elia kept her word. She always had someone report on Rhaegr’s whereabouts. Elia’s first thought had been to dismiss Y/n. It would be painful, but Y/n would be safer there. Perhaps Rhaegar would forget about her and one day Elia could invite Y/n back. But Rhaegar would never let her. There was one alarming change. Rhaegar was now letting Elia in on his research. How there would be a great Prince to vanquish the Others. Elia hated thinking about it, but at least she knew what Rhaegar was up to.

“Elia look!” The morning you received a gift from your sister. Lyanna had taken blue winter roses and tried them, pressed between two pieces of glass. The picture was lovely.

Sister,

I hope you are well. I hope these roses find you soon. Given you are stuck on Dragonstone. There are many this year. When you visit, there will probably be more. Dad has currently grounded me because I poured wine on Brandon’s head. Which was unfair because he was making fun of me. The only satisfaction I have is that Brandon can no longer visit the whore houses, at least for the next week. But I don’t see why I need be punished.

Everyone is doing well. Benjin is still annoying, father and Eddard send their love. Ps. There are socks for the Princess Rhaenys.

Love,

Lyanna Stark

You pulled out a pair of socks. They were actually quite nicely sewn.

“Your sister wrote to you? What did she say?” Elia looked over. “She sends me her love. And socks for the Princess.” “Well I am very grateful. I shall send my thanks.” Elia picked up the Princess from her colt. “Shall we?” The two of you liked to take walks by the ocean. It was nice and soothing and briefly banished all your troubles. You had taken off your shoes, sand between your toes. “Would you like go to back to Winterfell?” Elia asked. “I do miss home. Father may call me back for my marriage.” You said. But you wondered if Rhaegar would let you. While he had left you alone, it was still scary. The fear that Rhaegar might resume his advances was frightening. “If at any point you wish to.” Normally you would have not thought twice about saying yes. But something didn’t sit well with you. Why was Elia so eager for you to leave? Usually, Elia was hard put to have you leave her side. And the timing was suspect in itself. You finally voiced your fears.

“Rhaegar’s been confronting me as of late.” You had to get it out. As much as you loathed it. The secret was banging against your chest, begging to get out. “I know.” Elia sighed. Your legs buckled, tears bringing themself to the surface. “I didn’t want it.” You sobbed. Your shoes dropped as tears spilled over. Your hands clutched at your chest as if that might alleviate the pain. Your body fell to the ground. Elia came down with you, one arm around your shoulder. Her lips brushed against you hairline. “I know my dear, I know.” But you couldn’t stop crying. The relief you felt was enormous. As stressful as the situation had been, at least you knew Elia didn’t blame you. The sea crashed in the distance and seemed to come to a standstill as you rested against Elia. You cried into her shoulder for what felt like ages. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotten my tears all over your dress.” You sniffed. Elia laughed and pulled you further into her embrace. “It’s just a dress, you're more important.” Baby Rhaenys cooed between you two. Elia ran a finger down the bridge of her nose. “I think Rhaenys needs to go inside.” Both of you stood up. “Elia, could I have a moment alone?” Her hand stroked your cheek. You wanted some time alone. Your emotions were so on edge you might explode.

You watched Elia walk back inside. It was only when Elia went inside that you continued on your way. Getting cold feet, literally, you slipped on your shoes and went to the cliffside. The wind whipped around like a tempest. You allowed the wind to ruffle your hair. Maybe this is why Targaryens came here. There was a sense of peace you got from the elements. It was as if the wind might carry your pain away. Your eyes closed, letting emotion take over. You fell, fingers digging into cold, tough soil. Your nails cried out from the strength in which they were forced into the ground. A cold, hard breath left your body, carried away by the wind. Throwing your head back, you sent a prayer to the wind. Only the gray sky above was witness to your cry. Or so you thought.

“Lady Stark.” A cold, shaking hand clasped on your trembling lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. He came closer, one footstep after another, the ground giving way to his wake. Legs became stiff as lead. A strong hand seized your shoulder. “Lady Stark, please turn.” Only doing so when he put pressure on the shoulder that you unwillingly turned. Acid rose up in your throat. “Your Grace…please.” Tears fell freely. You didn’t care about dignity anymore. Right now all you knew was exhaustion and fear. “Y/n, I know this is unprompted, but there is information I must divulge.”Rhaegar’s eyes looked desperate and wild. There was a flame in those dark purple eyes. It was like you could feel the heat emanating from them, like wildfire. “Elia is not ice. I need a child of fire and ice." “You’re Grace, the Princess has already given you a healthy daughter. And it would be beneath my honor to have a bastard.” “Not a bastard My Lady, a prince.” A wild laugh burst from your lips, arms breaking free from his grip. Alarmed, Rhaegar stepped back. You must have looked mad yourself, hair freely flying behind you, eyes wide and savage. “Make no mistake My Prince. You will never have me or my love if that is what you are after. And when I bear a child it shall not be with a dragon. Dragons do not fare well in the cold.” “Ice is just what I desire. The Prince that was Promised, the Three-Headed Dragon. Elia can not give me that.” You feel to your knees, angry tears tearing at your skin. “You would…… you would abandon your wife for what!? You are mad!” Rhaegar knelt down to your level, hand on your chin. You broke. Rhagar howled as sharp teeth drove into his pale skin. You were thrown to the ground with the state of blood overcoming the scenes. “So this is how it is. I shall leave you to your own devices then.” He spat. Rhaegar walked away.

The next few days were spent in silent terror. You had harmed a Prince, treason. Even the daughter of Lord Rickard Stark was not immune to the rules. Hiding under the covers at night, you expected guards to come in at any moment. But to your surprise and delight, Rhaegar had left you alone. However, that didn’t mean this was the end. Elia suspected something was wrong. She was constantly by your side, more than usual. In public you were side by side, arms linked. But soon news came that caused a flurry of excitement. A tourney was being held at Harrenhal. Soon everything was being packed up and ready to leave that dreary rock. Maybe you would feel better once off Dragonstone.

Arriving at Kings Landing was a blessed relief. Even the tall red walls were better than windswept Dragonstone. Two days later, your family arrived. “Lyanna!” Forgoing courtesies, you left Elia’s side to hug your sister. Since you had last seen her, Lyanna had gotten taller. Her dark brown hair was long and tidy, cheeks a rosy glow. Lyanna practically jumped on you in her excitement. “Y/n! I’ve missed you so!” One of Elia’s ladies made an “ahem” noise and the two of you quickly broke apart. “Princess, this is my sister, Lady Lyanna Stark.” Lyanna curtsied, you noticed she had improved. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lyanna. Your sister tells me much.” Lyanna blushed. “Good things, I hope.” Elia laughed at the jest. “Very. Now how about we enjoy these lemon cakes and you tell me stories about Y/n when she was younger.” The rest laughed as you groaned.

The mood in Elia’s solar was pleasant. Lyanna seemed to enjoy eating cake and telling ever embarrassing stories about your childhood. “And then she fell right into the pigpen.” Lyanna laughed. “Only because you pushed me.” You snorted, giving her a gentle swat. Elia looked happier than she had in a long while, baby Rhaeneys situated on her lap. For that short time, no one had any worries. Until Rhaegar arrived. Elia’s smile faded and the sun was put out. The rest of you shrunk back as if confronted by the plague. The only person who seemed to be unfazed was Lyanna. “Your Grace.” She said and then sat back down. He walked over and pressed a kiss to Elia’s cheek. “My Love, I hope you are well.” But Rhaegar’s eyes were not on you, but Lyanna's. “Fire and Ice.” You had not known what Rhaegar meant by those words. It was only now that he was looking at Lyanna did you realize. If he could not have you, he would have her.

Your maid had just finished brushing your hair when a knock sounded at the door. “Who is it?” The maid called out. “It’s me.” Lyanna’s voice called out. “Let her in.” The door opened and a muddy, flushed Lyanna stumbled in, a grin wide over her face. “Prince Rhaegar let me join in on the hunt.” Your blood froze. Even breathing took great effort. “Please leave us.” The maid curtsied and departed. It was only when her footsteps faded did you speak. “Lyanna, what exactly did he do?” “Well, I was in the courtyard practicing my archery when he saw me! Honestly, I thought he would tell me off, but instead, he let me hunt some stag! It was so much fun!” Poor Lyanna. At fourteen, the girl did not realize the Prince’s intentions were not so innocent. “Lyanna, I believe he is trying to court you.” Your insides squirmed at the words, but she needed to hear them. The thought of Rhaegar taking advantage of your innocent sister made you physically ill. At first, Lyanna laughed. But when she realized you weren't jesting, those laughs turned into sobs. You pulled your sister into a hug, hand brushing her hair. "I swear I didn’t do anything.” Her tears stained your nightgown. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you one bit.” You let Lyanna sleep in your bed that night. After a cup of hot milk and honey, she went to sleep. But you stayed awake all night, thinking about what to do next.

Lyanna was in your presence at all hours. However, your duties conflicted with your plans. During dinner, you had to leave with Elia. Ever since her second pregnancy quickened her breasts had been swollen and red. You had only left Elia when she was in bed. You’d gone for a walk when Lyanna ran into Y/n. She was pale with red eyes. Wordlessly she flung her arms around your waist, fingers clutching the fabric. “Has Rhaegar bothered you again!” “Yes, yes he has! I was riding by myself when he came up to me. I tried to shake him off when he caught up and insisted we ride together.” “Did he do anything?” “He touched my hand. “And that is all?” “Yes, I promise.” Relief. At least he had not taken her maidenhead. But that did not mean you weren’t angry. “Go to bed Lyanna, I will deal with him tomorrow. It was time for the dragons to realize wolves too had fangs.

Requesting a meeting with the Prince terrified you. But Lyanna being in danger was far more horrifying. So that was why on a cold night, you stood in front of Rhaegar’s large oak door, the three-headed dragon carved into its surface. The torches gave the entrance an eerie atmosphere. You heard him call you in. Into the dragon's den, you went.

You had never been to Rhaegar’s solar before. It was a quiet, mysterious place. The circular wall was lined with shelves. The only light came from the fireplace, above the mantel held a curved blade. “Lady Y/n. I admit, I had not expected you to request an audience.” Dangerous. That was the only word you could describe his voice. Each syllable dripped off his tongue like poison. A predator ready to strike. “I wish to speak to you regarding my sister, Lady Lyanna.” Your fingernails dug into your palms. “ Yes. Your sister is quite lovely. A credit to your house.” A slight smirk made its way onto his face. “I am aware, My Prince. But I worry that your attentions may be taken as…..something more than they should not be.” Rhaegar’s eyes flashed something fierce and a malevolent smirk stretched over his lips. “So now that another has my heart you want me?” Flabbergasted. Was Rhaegar so enraptured by the prophecy that he could not see sense?! “My Prince, she is my sister and engaged to Lord Tyrell. If you pursue her Lyanna;s prospects will be ruined.” Rhaegar’s purple eyes hardened as his elbows rested on his knees. “Lady Y/n, if you accept my proposal I would not need to pursue Lady Lyanna.” You seemed unable to breathe through your mouth. Lungs barely able to circulate air. Rhaegar got to his feet, walking towards you. His large hands placed themselves on your shoulders, his lips inches from yours. Warm breath hits your chest, the skin heating up. “Please…..she’s so young.” You clutched his hands imploringly.There was not even room to cry, every organ in your body was ice. His hand cupped your cheek, getting closer. You could now taste his breath. Before Rhaegar knew it, you had fled.

A snake and a wolf lay together in the darkness. The heaviness of your situation suffocating. “Lyanna needs to go back north.” Elia’s hand held yours. “I know. The tournament will be over tomorrow.” Elia attempted to console you. “But what if he tries to harm Lyanna before then?!” Tears choked your lungs. Elia hushed you gently and wrapped her arms around you. The snake coiled herself gently around her wolf.

It was only by pure chance that you figured out Rhaegar’s plan. You had woken early that morning, clad in a simple blue dress and shawl. This morning had a cold touch in the wind, reminding you of Winterfell. Oh how you would like to go back to those days. Harenhall still bore the marks from Aegon’s attack all those centuries ago. A man whose belief in his divine right to rule was so strong he took over six kingdoms. This castle was just a remnant of this pride. Targaryen's had always been this way, taking what they want. You walked out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Looking down below, you recognize a familiar curtain of silver hair. With haste, you made to disappear before he might look up and see you. That was until something caught your eye. Rhaegar had in his hands a crown of blue winter roses. Roses that only grew in Winterfell. This did not sit right with you. He must be making it for the tourney today. But why would he go to such lengths to get blue roses for this one occasion? Most would believe that this was a touching gesture from Rhaegar to Elia. But why winter roses? Why not flowers from Dorne? Rage choked you. How dare he. How fucking dare he! You wanted to claw his eyes out and feed him to the wolves. No matter what, Rhaegar would pursue his desires. He was a dragon. A dragon you wanted to defang. You looked down at the young prince. Had he cared to look up, Rhaegar would have seen a she-wolf staring right down at him.

You had gained sickness when Elia woke up. The sad look on her face made you ill, but this needed to be done. Once everyone was gone, you slipped out of bed and hurried to Benjin’s room. Only Benjin and Lyanna knew what you were up to. “I think this will fit you.” Lyanna held up a breastplate. Benjin helped put on your armor as Lyanna handed him pieces. “All done!” Benjin admired his handiwork. You ruffled his dark hair. Lyanna was rummaging under the bed. “Lyanna? Everything alright?” “Yes.” Lyanna grunted. She hauled out a shield and turned it over. On its surface was a Weirwood tree. “Shall we start?” Lyanna asked. Grimly, you and Benjin nodded.

All that could be heard were the horse's thundering hooves. All your energy was put into defeating this latest opponent. Though you had jousted before, never had your limits been pushed thus. Your left arm was screaming in pain. Every time the pain became too much to bear, you looked up to Elia, Lyanna and Benjin. Only Lyanna and Benjin knew the truth. Yet the way Elia’s eyes followed you made you think she knew. Finally, you made it to the final round. In all honesty, you hadn’t expected to make it this far. But this was it. This was why you had entered the arena and this fight. “I announce, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen!” A roar louder than the waves against Storm’s End came up from the stands. He was clad in true Targaryen armor, making him look like the dragon he was. But even dragons were not invincible. The Dornish had brought down Meraxes, and by all the old Gods you would take down this one. Your lances lowered, it had begun.

You and Elia saw under the Weirwood Tree. Elia’s head lay in your lap while you made a crown of weirwood leaves. You told her the story of Aemon the dragonknight and his love Naerys. Whether it was romantic or the love a brother had for a sister was unknown. But it comforted you to think that the sad Queen Naerys had someone by her side. The path of a Queen or princess was lonely, as you had witnessed. Elia had always been a princess from the day of her birth. In Dorne there were the vipers that never harmed their precious princess. The same could not be said of Kings Landing. Elia opened her brown eyes and smiled at you. “What's this?” She asked, eyeing the leaf crown. “Something for the tourney.” “For Brandon?” You gave her a sly smile. “Not so your grace.” If the vipers could not protect Elia, then this lone wolf would.

It all happened in one moment. People in the audience were not even sure what had happened. Two great beasts had launched at each other. In the end, it was the mysterious Weirwood tree knight who remained standing. And then a shriek arose from the crowd. Of shock, surprise, excitement, and wonder. This knight with no name had unhorsed the prince. The knight's white stallion trotted over the squire who handed her a crown of Weirwood leaves and orange Dornish flowers. And went right up to the Princess. Elia stood on the balcony. Instead of shock or horror, her face held something no one but the princess and her knight knew. Their eyes met and at least for that day, as Elia set the crown upon her brow, everything was right in the world.

[meo-eiru]

How will you respond?

[tsuutarr]

The hero didn’t really think much of you when he first saw you. After all, you're just a pretty little saint that grew up with praise inside the gleaming walls of a church, never knowing any suffering. He doubts you’ll be able to keep up with him during his journey to save the world.

All of his initial disdain for you disappears when he begins his journey with you. You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re generous. Your healing ability from the gods isn’t the only thing that seems to heal him – just your presence, just your laugh, just you. You make life – his journey – a little more bearable.

So how – how could they? You’re his light, you’re his everything, and yet… They want to sacrifice you? That’s why you were chosen to be his partner for his trip? And you’re just standing there, unwilling to fight your fate.

“I’m okay with disappearing,” you murmur, wiping his tears away with hands that are turning to stone. “If I can save your life with my own, then I’m satisfied.”

But he’s not. He’s not satisfied, not when you’re not by his side. When he sees you turn to stone, your skin replaced with beautiful white marble, he vows to do anything to bring you back to his side. 

Using the power of the gods, he turns back time again and again and again so he can save you – so he can be with you.

But you meet the same fate over and over and over again. Again and again and again.

…Then who cares? Who cares about this shitty world when it’s without you?

The next time you return to consciousness, the world is in disarray, covered in murky fog and the smell of blood. The next thing you know, you’re being pulled into a warm embrace.

“You’re alive…” the hero says, hugging you close. His warmth is suffocating. “Yes… I should’ve done this from the start instead of turning back time…”

“W… what’s happening?” you ask, heart feeling too heavy, like stone, in your chest. “What did you do…?”

“Nothing, everything, anything.” He nuzzles your neck, savoring your warmth. It sends chills down your spine. “Anything to have you by my side. Even if it means destroying the world.”

[sweetteainthesummerx]

|◁ II ▷| down bad ! |◁ II ▷|

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairing: quinn hughes x famous singer! reader

warnings: fluff, smut is implied but not graphic!! use of y/n.

summary: your sister sends you an article of you and quinn being absolutely down bad for each other...

word count: 2.4 k

notes: saw one too many edits of my handsome boy on TikTok and this is the consequence :) also, this is sort of based off of taylor swift and travis kelce. enjoy!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

you're finishing up in the studio, just done tweaking one of your last songs on your new album when your phone dings! with a notification.

it's your sister, who sends a trail of emojis that don't really make sense and a link.

you press on it, confused and assuming it's something she wants for her birthday that's coming up soon.

instead it's an article that reads, TOP TEN FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS OF NHL AND THE MUSIC INDUSTRY'S ROYAL COUPLE.

you laugh, because the cover photo is one of you and quinn from last year when you took him as your plus one to the grammy's. you have to admit, you both look really good, and so, so in love.

so you nestle into your chair to read it.

TOP TEN FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS OF NHL AND THE MUSIC INDUSTRY'S ROYAL COUPLE

one of Hollywood's up and comings, y/n l/n and quinn hughes of canucks and nhl fame have been dating for over three years, and have been public for two. we have complied a list of fan favourite moments of the couple over the span of their relationship that show their deep (and public) affection and love for each other

10. 2023 Grammy's Award Ceremony

picture: you are wearing a light blue floor length gown, hair loose and curled. your makeup is simple and glowy. quinn stands next to you, in a clean, slate grey suit with a hand wrapped around your hip, fingers nestled in the dip of your hipbone.

the award ceremony for the grammy's - where y/n won best album for the second year in a row - was when the famous couple first went public officially, not counting the many paparazzi pictures taken in both vancouver and Los Angeles.

sources show that the two could hardly keep their hands off of each other. they were seen kissing multiple times through out the night.

it was true, quinn had been extra handsy that night, and had all but ripped that dress off of you when you got back to the hotel. you sigh at the memory, stomach warm and a little achy. you can't wait for him to come back from the roadie he left for only two days ago.

9. y/n's tiktoks

despite their massive success in their respective industries, it is easy to forget that they are also part of gen z. y/n's TikTok page features fashion, her music and most popular of all, her boyfriend. here are only some of her most viewed and liked videos:

video one: you smile into the camera, fluffing your hair in a close shot. the subtitles read: fit check with my bf! quinn pulls you against him by your waist, kissing your face over and over as you laugh, pushing at his chest. over the song, you tell him to let go so you can show your outfits. he lets go reluctantly but holds your hand, spinning you around to show off your sundress. then he grabs you and dips you low, hands dangerously close to your ass, as you giggle into his cheek.

video two: the video is taken by one of your friends who took your phone. she's on the couch and you and quinn are in the kitchen cooking for the small get together in your vancouver apartment. you lean up to smile at him, and he bumps his nose with yours. some trending love song plays in the back.

you flush at the comments gushing about how he looks at you, the height difference and how cute you guys are. there's something so sweet at seeing the two of you from an outsiders perspective.

8. quinn knowing y/n's entire discography

during media days, one interview has elias petterson and quinn hughes guessing songs and the artists. the journalist managed to sneak at least four of y/n's songs in, quinn getting all four correct, with the full name of the song, name of artist and then album, all under 10 seconds of the song playing. now that's a supportive boyfriend!

you watch the video linked, your boyfriend sweaty and hair wet. the media person is impressed, and quinn just shrugs bashfully and offers a crooked smile. you look at the time stamp and bite a grin: it's from before you guys went public. no wonder all of your fans say you guys were obvious.

7. quinn hughes: nhl player and personal bodyguard

fame in hollywood forces many in the industry to have body guards, and y/n is not exempt. for many years before she started dating the canuck's defensemen, she's had many bodyguards following her around. now, it seems like her boyfriend has taken over that job.

video: your body guard, john moves to open the limo door as you and quinn arrive to an event, but your boyfriend crosses from his side of the car to open it himself, patting john on the shoulder and gently pushing him from the entrance and helping you out himself. he helps you balance on your heels as you stand and wave at the cameras, one hand on your waist as he maneuvers you to the other side of the sidewalk so he can block you from the cars. he keeps your hand cradled in his, his other arm around your waist as he shoulders through the paparazzi.

quinn looks so attractive and so masculine in this video. you've never had boyfriends who took princess treatment so seriously, but quinn has always been a defender, on ice and off. it was a little awkward and it took a long a while for him to get you, but ever since he had you, he's made sure he tried his very best to keep and protect you.

6. getaway in hawaii

although the couple hasn't had any announcement of engagement yet, early last year they were sighted in hawaii on a trip eerily like a honeymoon: here are some pictures.

picture one: you're in a tiny pink bikini and he's in board shorts. he's taken off his hat to give to you, and you're pressing on a pair of your too-small sunglasses onto his face while both of you laugh.

picture two: the two of you are standing in the water up to your calves. he's got his fingers tangled in the strings of your bikini bottoms, and yours are on his chest as the two of you look into the horizon.

picture three: quinn has you balanced on his shoulder, smiling as you clutch at his back. one of his forearms is possessively covering your ass from the camera, and his other hand is wrapped fully around your ankle to give you a semblance of balance.

you still smile every time you think of that trip, afternoons playing in the water, romantic dinners and nights with his head between your legs, your fingers tangled in his hair. you silently remind yourself to book a vacation back there the next time both of you are free.

5. the NHL award ceremony

the recent NHL award ceremony when quinn hughes received the James Norris award for his skills as a defenceman gave us another peek into y/n's relationship with hughes family.

video one: you're sitting between quinn and luke in your pretty dark blue gown. your hair is pulled back from your face the way quinn likes. he's got an arm thrown over the back of the seat, fingers rubbing your shoulder as you talk to Luke about his hair routine. quinn murmurs something the camera can't catch into your ear and you laugh, tucking your hand into the his that's resting on his lap. he leans back, stretching his legs as you absentmindedly rub his knee, leaning over his brothers to talk to his mom.

video two: his name is called, and you stand with him, clapping loudly. he hugs you first, and you press a kiss into the corner of his lip, but he plants a firm, real one on yours. your manicured, white nails contrast against the black expanse of his suit and broad back. you push him gently towards luke. when he's finished hugging everyone and comes back down the aisle, you quickly fix his tie and smooth down his lapels. he kisses your cheek again and goes down to the stage.

photo three: the trophy is in the middle, the whole family wrapped together. you're tucked between ellen, the older woman has an arm around your waist and your boyfriend's got is arm slung across you shoulders on you other side, everyone smiling big for the camera.

you still remember ellen and jim insisting that you get in the photo, because "you're practically family anyways," and "it's any day now" that their son proposes to you. the photo is on their fridge, to this day.

4. quinn's y/n shirt

another video from y/n's tiktok. during the christmas season, she spent the holidays with the hughes family. her future brother in law (hopefully), jack hughes got quinn a pretty special present.

video: jack is holding the camera, and it pans to you and quinn. your holding a giant sushi stuffed toy (long story) from luke on your lap as you sit next to your boyfriend.

"here," he extends a hand holding a bag to his older brother.

Quinn smiles in thanks and digs into it, retrieving shirt. but it's no ordinary shirt. it's one of those old, retro looking ones with your face blown out all over it.

pictures from red carpets, your album covers, and in gaudy, shadowy text, it reads: IF LOST, RETURN TO Y/N L/N.

Luke cackles as you bury your face in quinn's shoulder. he's letting out a deep, belly laugh as his parents smile and take pictures of it when he holds it out.

he immediately pulls off his sweatshirt and tugs the shirt on. it fits a little tight.

"merry christmas!" jack yells as he gives you a high-five.

he still wears that stupid shirt around the apartment, just because he knows you like the fit and your face plastered all over his chest.

3. y/n's songs about her boyfriend

through many new releases, we have determined a list of songs about quinn from her new album, lover.

sweet nothing

paper rings

lover

daylight

I think he knows

afterglow

good looking

wow, you think. these people must not have lives if they're rummaging through your digital footprint and media presence with your boyfriend just to link them with your songs.

2. quinn's interview

since the couple has gone public, y/n has been seen at Canuck's games with family and friends. since she's from vancouver, born and raised, she is passionate about hockey and fits right in.

video one: the jumbotron flashes your face an name; you're wearing quinn's canucks jersey, hair loose. you smile and flutter your fingers at the crowd that's going crazy. one the ice, quinn's teammates jostle and holler at him, and you blow him a kiss. he pretends to catch it, and the screaming in the stadium reaches a new level as the screen pans to him: he's pink and all smiley.

video two: the ref makes a call and you stand, throwing your hands up in the air, exasperated. you huff, sitting back down with your head in your hands. your friends watch on with disappointment, and the three of you let out complains.

video three: quinn grins while looking off camera in the middle of an interview, and the journalist laughs.

"your girl?" he asks, and quinn nods shyly.

"yeah, it's real nice to see her here supporting. I mean, she's really busy too with her tours, but it's nice to have her on my turf."

"I saw! she got really riled up for the penalty during the second period. she's wearing your jersey as well."

"yeah," he scratches his neck, scrunching his nose to hide the big ass smile on his face, "she looks great, eh?"

"glad to see her in her hometown, too."

"right. yeah, I love her so much."

you snicker at how love sick he looks, because early on in the relationship he followed you around like a clingy, lost puppy. he still does sometimes after a roadie or one of your tours. you love it.

1. karma is the guy on the rink, coming straight home to me

the internet broke when y/n changed one of the songs on her song list for her tour last year at rogers arena in vancouver: instead of "karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight home to me", which is a reference to her ex, she changes it to better fix her new romance.

video: you dance through the song, your backup dancers clueless as you reach the line.

"karma is the guy on the rink, comin' straight home to me!" your voice breaks a little in a giggle at the end, your dancers shocked laughter and gasps visible from their faces that even an iPhone camera from 25 meters away can catch.

video two: quinn's in the tent with your parents and some of his teammates and their girlfriends, all of them are vibing to the music and dancing, most holding drinks in their hands.

when the line hits the speakers, everyone is screaming so loud and filming him, and he blushes so red that it spreads to his ears and neck, even in the dim light. his boys are slapping his back, and your dad gives him a high-five. he just smiles at you, dopey and deliriously happy in his shirt of your face and the 20 friendship bracelets your fans had made for him.

you remember that show perfectly, and the night after even better. you barely got any sleep because of his attentions, and your makeup artists spent nearly half an hour covering up the bruises on your neck and chest the next morning.

all in all, we can come to the conclusion that quinn hughes and y/n l/n are completely down bad for each other, like she teased in the song list of her unreleased album. we only hope for good things in the future for this famous couple!

you smile at the closing statement, sending it to quinn to read later in his hotel room.

he facetimes you that night, hair wet and eyes sleepy.

"that article was absolutely right. I am so down bad for you." he tells you seriously, with the promise of lots of love when he comes straight home to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[verycoolusername1]

Birthday Boy

Summary: In which it's Quinn's birthday and you want to celebrate

Quinn Hughes x Gn!reader

Warning: I don't think there are any but there might be grammatical errors despite ke having grammarly on my phone lmao

A/N: IT'S HUGGY'S BIRTHDAY RAH RAH RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH and yk I just had to write a little something for him as he's literally the loml in every universe(the parasocial relationship is going HARD)

Also the devils have a game on his birthday- in this fic THEY DON'T SO EXCEPT A CAMEO FROM JACK AND LUKE

Quinn woke up with a groan as you were rapidly kissing his face. "Baby?"

"Happy birthday quinny," You whispered. "I would kiss you but you know how I feel about morning breath."

Quinn smashes his lips onto yours anyway, making you groan. "And you know how I feel about morning breath."

You teased. "You're twenty-five and still acting like a child."

"Only with you." Quinn mumbles.

You kissed his forehead in reply as you slowly pulled away from him. "Go back to sleep, I know you're tired honey."

Quinn didn't waste no time in going back to sleep. You kissed his cheek as you got ready to leave. In an instant, you were gone.

You wished you could spend your morning with the man of your dreams, but you had to hurriedly get his party in order and then later pick his family up from the airport.

You sent Brock a quick text telling him to get Quinn out of the house, which he responded rather quickly that he's on it.

You also sent a message to the birthday boy himself, telling him that you have errands to run and that you'll be back soon. He didn't respond, which made you a little sad.

You drove to party city and got a few decorations and called a few members of the team to come and help you.

You drove to the airbnb you had rented out and waited for the boys to come rolling in before you gave them instructions before leaving for the airport.

You waited in your car until you got the text from Jack that they were getting off the plane. You made your way into the airport and were trying to spot the family. Unknowingly, they already spotted you.

Luke ran behind you and picked you up despite the bags in his hands, making you squeal. "Luke Warren Hughes." You warned, making him put you down almost immediately.

Jack laughed at the interaction and shook his head. "Nice to see you too Y/n."

"Oh hush, we're on a tight schedule. I think your mom would agree." You gestured to Ellen, who nodded.

"They're right, this is Quinn's day and we can't waste any second." Ellen reasoned.

The family followed you to your car and you drove to the Airbnb.

"What have you got him doing all day?" Jim asked.

"To be honest, I'm not sure. I asked Brock to distract him, but considering it's Brock... could be anything." You shook your head.

"Wow this place looks beautiful." Luke comments.

"Of course it is, I picked it out." You rolled your eyes. "Anyways, I gotta go, bye!"

You unlocked your phone to a bunch of texts from Quinn, begging you to take him away from Brock. You chuckled as you texted back and got in your car and headed to the bakery.

The baker instantly recognized your voice, having talked to your voice on the phone beforehand.

"Over here y/n." You followed the baker to a white box that was most definitely Quinn's cake.

You thanked the baker and called the catering about dinner and gave them the address of the Airbnb and texted Ellen to expect them.

You dropped the cake off at the Airbnb and told Jack to not touch it or go within a 5 mile radius of it.

You texted Quinn that you're heading back to the apartment, to which he quickly replied that he was already there.

You unlocked the door and was met by your boyfriend giving you a bear hug.

"I missed you." He mumbled into your shoulder.

A pang of guilt went through. You realized you neglected him all day on his birthday nonetheless.

"I'm here now baby it's okay." You scratched his head. "Cmon, we gotta get ready, I made a reservation." You lied.

"Can't we just miss it and stay in bed, I just wanna be with you." He whispered.

"This reservation is important. We can't miss it." You told him sternly.

You two went to your bedroom, and Quinn put on a suit while you put on an outfit you knew he liked.

You came out of the bathroom, and Quinn's breath got caught in his throat.

"You-you look amazing." He gushed.

"Thanks, Quinn, you look nice too. Are you ready to go?" You asked, to which he nodded.

You quickly texted Jack that you were arriving with Quinn before starting the car.

Quinn pretty much stared at you the whole ride, making you nervous.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." You joked.

To your surprise, he actually does. Taking you off guard.

"I'm gonna make it my wallpaper." He declared.

"You wouldn't." You looked at him as you parked the car.

"You look good tonight, and I could stare at you for hours. I think I would." He smiled softly.

You smiled bashfully and were grateful. He couldn't see much of it due to it being dark out.

"Cmon... let's go." You unlocked the car.

Quinn's hands immediately found their ways to yours, and you walked to the airbnb, laughing at his stupid jokes. He would whisper in your ear, hand in hand, looking like a lovesick couple.

"This doesn't look like a restaurant." Quinn noted the obvious.

"Yeah I actually had a different reservation in mind, hope you don't mind honey." You kissed his cheek.

You opened the door and let Quinn enter first and turned on the lights.

"Surprise," you whispered as the guests yelled the word.

"What's all this?" He asked, turning to you.

"It's your birthday party," You shrugged.

"So that's why you were out all day..." Quinn trailed off.

"Yeah," You chuckled. "Do you forgive me now?"

"You know I do." Quinn pulled you in a hug. "Thank you. I appreciate this, but more importantly, you."

You grew warm at his words as you smiled at him. "No need to get all sappy just cause I'm showing my love for you. Now cmon your family's here."

Quinn snapped his head towards you. "My family's here? But they said that they couldn't-"

"Well, we obviously lied." Jack suddenly appeared beside you two.

"Happy birthday, honey." Ellen went up to him, Quinn hugged her tight.

You quietly snuck off to make you and Quinn a plate, leaving the family to catch up.

"All he did was ask about you the whole day." Brock slides in next to you.

You chuckled looking at him. "Oh did he now?"

"Every damn minute, I was so close to locking him in a closet." Brock laughs.

You laugh alongside him, unaware of the several eyes on you.

"Don't let them slip through your fingers." Ellen told him sternly. "They went of their way to make this the perfect day for you, you know how much they love you."

Quinn looked at you softly as you slowly came back over, Luke next to you. "Believe me, I know. I would have been content with staying in bed all day if it meant I would be with them."

Jim looked at his son softly before making a knowing glance with his wife.

"How long?" He asked.

Quinn looked at his dad. "How long what?"

"How long have you been thinking like this?" He clarifies.

"Oh." Quinn's face began to flush. "Uh for awhile."

"You've been thinking about spending the rest of your lives with them for awhile??" Jack comes back in the conversation. "How long is awhile?"

Quinn shook his head, making Jack laugh. You came up to his side again with his plate in your hands. He thanked you with a kiss to your hand and leaned into your touch.

"I guess for awhile means a long time." Luke muttered.

Quinn quickly shut them up with a glare.

"What do they mean?" You looked between the brothers in curiosity.

"Nothing you need to worry about." Quinn mumbles.

"Hey Y/n I love this party and all, but it's not really a birthday without some cake." Conor grinned.

Your eyes widened in realization. "Omg, you're right! How could I forget about the cake?" You muttered the question to yourself as you ran off to get the cake.

Ellen hushed everyone to the table as they all waited for you. You lit the 25 candle and slowly lifted the cake and made your way to the table.

As you walked towards Quinn, Jack couldn't help but notice the way he was looking at you. Like you were the only person in the room, the light of his life. He took a quick photo before getting glared at by his mom.(that photo is now Quinn's lockscreen)

Everyone else began to sing happy birthday to Quinn. You included as you held the cake in front of him. Once the(terrible) singing was concluded, Quinn blew the candles out and you made your way to him with the first slice.

"Thank you." Quinn quietly says.

"Your welcome baby." You ruffled his hair.

"No... thank you." He tried to sound more serious but it doesn't help when Luke is eating half of the cake, Petey stopping him before he could get the chance.

"For what?" You looked down at him.

"For making today one of the best days of my life." He clarifies.

"Oh Quinn it's nothing, you don't need to thank me for this." You smiled.

"I know but I want to." He smiled. "I love you."

"I love you too." You kissed his head. "At least your frontal lobe is fully developed now. Can make extra good decisions now."

Quinn swatted your arm. "Hey! I make good decisions all the time."

"And what about that one time where you ghosted me? For two months I might add." You spoke with a questioning look.

"Touche." He said defeated.

[devildomartist]

Pretty man has been living in my head rent free. Pretty man has moved in and have no plans of leaving 😔I love that he has the personality equivalent to watching paint dry lmfao.

Elias belongs to @meo-eiru ! :D

Fully colored of the one I sent in the asks ^^

Their characters have taken my only brain cell and are now passing it around like a beach ball 😔

[secretcoralgarden]

A Dream is A Wish Your Heart Makes || Yan GB Cinderella x GN Reader

Characters: Elias

Summary: Even if you're a royal, you're his only human friend

Warnings: Yandere themes, possessiveness, abusive family

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Yan GB Cinderella who is stuck living with his abusive stepfather and stepbrothers. His father had died when he was a child and his mother had remarried this vile man and even more vile brothers. She had died only two years after in a tragic carriage accident. They had him work as a made, gave him the old attic room in the west tower of the mansion, and never allowed him to eat with them at the table. All he had was the grief of his dead mother and father, the memories of a good family, and his mouse friends.

Yan GB Cinderella who cleans all the messes, makes the meals, does the laundry, takes care of all the farm animals, and everything else in between. He never gets a break and rises with the clock tower in the distance that was a part of the grand palace. And when he does find some little time to himself, he's busy making small clothes for his mice friends. The only thing to carry him are his mice friends, his dog, and the dreams and wishes he holds close to his heart.

Yan GB Cinderella who goes out one day for the shopping and bumps into a cloaked stranger. This stranger apologizes and so much more. They had picked up the items he had dropped when he was startled. Elias was being shown more kindness in this one moment than he was used too in the span of five minutes. This cloaked stranger then rides off into the forest with a very expensive, purebred looking horse.

Yan GB Cinderella who felt inclined to follow this stranger. He wanted to give his thanks for this stranger's kindness. He found the horse, and it's rider sitting not too far away. It's the royal child of the kingdom. Even with the stranger's identity being found, he goes up to you. He bows his head and thanks you with a gentle tone of voice. Thus starting your lovely friendship with him.

Yan GB Cinderella who is captivated by how sweet you are. Compared to the rumors his family had shared during morning gossip were untrue. Well most were. There was only one clear thing about you. You were gorgeous. The only thing on his mind as you two chatted was how you handled thing with a gentle care. He simply watched with a gentle gaze and eyes filled with wonder.

Yan GB Cinderella who was shocked when you say you want to meet him again. You? The heir of the royal throne? He's so utterly thrilled that someone actually wants him around. From then on, he meets you in the same spot almost every day. Some days his evil Stepfather keeps him busy. He hates to leave you waiting like that. He makes it up to you by bringing you some homemade pastries.

Yan GB Cinderella who got to know you more, and he realizes you share similar burdens. He also becomes more touchy with you. He loves hugging you. He comes to learn, however, that your father is holding a ball for you to find a spouse. His heart drops when it's announced in the village during his shopping. Everyone else in the kingdom is invited to attend, most likely due to your everlasting kindness.

Yan GB Cinderella who is delighted that he'll get to see you in a social setting as big as a ball! When he shares with his stepfamily he's all giddy. It was very noticeable to his stepfather. He's all giddy and brighter than they've seen. His hopes become toned down when his stepfather told him he would need to finish all his normal chores first and getting new suits for his family and he'll “consider” it. Elias does what he's told, disappointed as time goes on. At this rate he won't find any time to mend his father's old suit. Well his mice friends take it upon themselves so they mend it for him. Elias words hard to get everything done and helps his stepbrothers get ready. The way they talked about you makes him so frustrated.

Yan GB Cinderella who finally accepts that he won't have any time to make his outfit for the ball. His voice is full of dejection when he shares with his stepfather that he won't be going. His stepbrothers snicker in the next door room. As he stared out the window of his attic room, his eyes on the castle. He knew you were there, probably having so much fun without him. The candles in his room suddenly were lit and he turned. His eyes widened as his old suit was perfectly mended. He wasted no time putting it on and rushed downstairs to show his family. He was so giddy as he showed off. His face fell when he saw his stepfather's face.

Yan GB Cinderella whose stepbrothers are enraged when they take notice of what was used on his suit. Elias had things that were theirs. Sure the two had thrown them out, but that didn't give Elias the right to take them. Once Lord Tremaine had calmed the two brothers down, Elias' suit was torn and ruined. The poor boy ran out into the garden in tears with his mice friends following secretly behind.

Yan GB Cinderella who spoke to the air while he cried. He apologized to his father. To his mother. He was trying so hard to remain kind and hopeful. He was so caught up in his tears, he didn't register the gentle hand on his head. He looked up with wide eyes. It was something out of a dream. Out of his dreams. The person claimed to be his fairy godfather. He didn't know why, but he felt so calmed by this stranger. He was quick to share his sadness. His problems.

Yan GB Cinderella whose fairy godfather consoles him with a gentle smile. Elias watches in awe as this magical being does his work His mice friends are turned into horses. His horse is turned into a coachman. His dog is turned into a footman. The most jaw dropping point is when a pumpkin is turned into a carriage. He's so excited he doesn't realize eh's still in the torn rags. His fairy godfather, however, notices and changes the rags into a beautiful blue suit with glass shoes. He finally felt beautiful. He leaves as his fairy godfather told him that the spell breaks at midnight.

Yan GB Cinderella who was the last to enter the ballroom. His name and title aren't even introduced. You waste no time to meet him on the ballroom floor. Your father watches with wide eyes as you walk past the princess you were being introduced too by the Grand Duke. Elias was so jumpy when you greet him. You look so regal. He's never seen you like this before. In this environment.

Yan GB Cinderella who takes your hand and starts the first dance of the evening. He tries not to be anxious. Or let his anxiety show. The stares of everyone around him gave his stomach butterflies. They were watching him be with you. Him being chosen by you. He keeps his eyes on yours. Your steps are so graceful. He doesn't notice his stepbrothers were watching in envy. He doesn't notice much. He's so lost in your eyes.

Yan GB Cinderella who dances gracefully for his first waltz. It helped that you're so paitent with him. Your hand was carefully placed carefully on his waist. You're so delicate with him. He loves it. He loves dancing with you. He loves you. You two end up dancing into the gardens, escapping the prying eyes of the guests. He's just with you. Exactly what he's been wanting for forever.

Yan GB Cinderella who breaks out of his daydream trance when you two are in the royal garden. He's delighted that you're showing him around. Sharing your favorite flowers. Just hearing you talk made his heart so happy. He'd rather have you talk than dance around in front of a bunch of strangers. He felt comfortable with you. You lead him through the garden like you had done with the dance. He's so engrosed in spending time with you, he nearly forgets the spell. Nearly forgets that it's almost midnight.

Yan GB Cinderella who hears the all to familiar bell toll. The bell that always woke him from his dreams. Like right now. He remembers the spell and rushes out of the castle. He runs as fast as his feet could carry him. You rush after him, wanting him to enoy the bal more with you. The Grand Duke sees the boy runn off. He joins in the chase. Elias was quick down the stairs. He didn't notice that the glass shoe fell off his foot.

Yan GB Cinderella who forgot to tell you it was him. The boy from the forest. The boy that you had befriended over the last few months. As he walks the rest of the way home, the king's knights run after where they had thought he went. He had the other glass slipper so he held hope in his heart. The hope that you'd find him. That you'd ask him to dance with you once more. The hope that you would take him away from the abusive household he's been trapped in. Hope that you'd connect the dots and figure out that it was really him. He helps his animal friends get home safe and sound before his stepfamily gets home.

Yan GB Cinderella who daydreams about the dance with you. His stepbrothers noticed his hazy look in Elias's eyes. They didn't give it much thought, however, when Lord Tremaine came with news that the king is looking for the boy that had danced with his child. The stepbrothers were so excited. They wasted no time in getting ready. Neither did Elias.

Yan GB Cinderella who tries his best to be discrete. His mannerisms changed. That much was noticeable to his stepfather. Elias was caught when he was humming the tune you and him had danced too. Hr was dancing around the attic space as if he was right back in that moment with you. His mice and bird friends watched with joy. That joy was snatched away when Lord Tremaine locked him in the room.

Yan GB Cinderella who begs to be let out of the attic room. He sobs to his animal friends as they watch his woes. They make quick work of trying to free him. Two mice run down the stairs and through the door cracks to get the key from the evil man. As the animals break apart to set their plans in motion, he is drowned in tears. He just wants to be with you. He just wants to be happy.

Yan GB Cinderella who, even tired with tear stains on his cheeks, still holds onto the hope that he'll be set free. As he gently cradles the other glass slipper, the mice, and birds bring him the key. He shoots up and fumbles with the key. Eventually he unlocks the door, bolting out of the room and down the seven flight of stairs. Placed delicately in his pocket is the other glass slipper.

Yan GB Cinderella who sees you trying to take the slipper away from one of his stepbrothers. He tackles you into a tight hug, sobbing against your shoulder. His stepfamily and the Grand Duke were both shocked by his sudden appearance. You calm him down like you always do. It was something you were amazing at doing. You helped him into a seat, get down on one knee and slide the glass shoe onto him. It fits and the moment it's on he falls onto you, giving you a kiss.

Yan GB Cinderella who is so happy that he's finally out of the abusive home he grew so used too. He can finally be happy. Happy with you. The royal wedding was large, all his animal friends were invited, and, best of all, you were right there with him. You let his animals move into the palace stables and gardens. He finally has his happy ending and the love of his life by his side. Nothing will ever take this away from him.

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Property of @secretcoralgarden! Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[witchofhimring]

The Princess and her Knight

Elia Martell x Reader

Ps: reader is born from a previous marriage making the Stark siblings her half siblings.

Elia Martell had always dreamed of being someone's princess. Y/n Stark always wanted to be a knight.

In very unusual circumstances a viper and a wolf find themselves intertwined.

note: simply wish fulfillment for Elia to get the crown she deserves 😤

She was the Princess of Dorne. Descended from Nymeria and Meria Martell. You had heard these stories from the cradles. On cold winter nights Nan would tell you of far-off places where there was no snow and the days were hot. They unnerved your brothers, who felt that women had no business wielding a sword or holding power. But you were utterly transfixed. More than once you and your sister Lyanna would sneak off, swords in hand. When everyone was asleep, the two of you snuck around, pretending to be Nymeria on her journey to Westeros. As the oldest child, you were expected to set an example. Well, that would explain why Lyanna and Brandon were so wild. The three of you were fresh young wolves, eager for a taste of life. Those days, however, were short-lived. One day a message arrived from Kings Landing. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was going to marry Elia Martell of Dorne.

You wondered what this Princess was like. Was she fierce like Meria? Alive with unquenching fire like Nymeria? They called her youngest brother a snake. Perhaps she was one too. Half expecting to find a woman with slits for eyes and fangs, a normal woman was slightly more surprising. She was smaller than imagined. With bundles of silky black hair and warm brown eyes. Sun-kissed skin was draped in flowing orange garments. She smiled as you curtsied. And a warm hand touched your cheek.

Elia Martell knew little of the north. It was a cold distant place, quite unlike home. She heard of the Northern Kings, the great walls and mysterious creatures known as the Others. Born sickly, Elia spent most of her time reading. She was encouraged to read books with filled with history and numbers. At night, when Oberyn finally left her room, she pulled out the other books. These were not books her family approved of. Not that they belittled her for it, but a Dornish Princess was expected to be more practical. “We are Princesses of Dorne, not some silly little southern girl. We are descended from warriors, not maids.” Is what Elia’s mother told her. She knew her family loved her dearly. But she wished they could understand. She wanted a world where she could be loved and love back. The stories where love conquered all. Her favorite was Aemon the Dragonknight and Princess Naerys. Even if the Targaryens were their centuries-old enemies, the story of Aemon loving his sister so fiercely it a fire in her. Of course, she was loved. But Elia wanted someone to hold her dear, just as Aemon held Naerys. So even as Elia got ready to marry Prince Rhaegar, there was an ache.

The Stark Banners flew over the procession. Like your sister Lyanna, you chose to ride on horseback. It was the day of Rhaegar’s marriage to Princess Elia. The procession was an endless line of Westeros’s greatest houses. “Look!” Lyanna pointed to a minstrel show on the side. It was a reenactment of Prince Aemon crowning his Naerys the Queen of Love and Beauty. The sept of Balor was packed to the brim. The crowd roared outside. Luckily, as the eldest daughter of House Stark, you had the honor of seeing everything in person. Elia was just as small as you remembered her. Rhaegar looked as though he could dwarf her.

Your next interaction with the princess was during the dance. Dancing had never been your forte. So as your father and oldest brother were busy, you slipped away. Eddard sat glumly in a corner as Lyanna and Brandon made themselves the life of the party. They could take care of themselves. You moaned in relief as you loosened your corset. A warm wind came up from the city. Your place on the balcony allowed you to see every light below. “Thank the Gods.” You sighed.

Elia was relieved to take a break. She loved dancing, but could only take so much of it. Oberon had offered to accompany Elia, but she refused. She needed to be alone. Every woman knew what was expected on their wedding night. Elia was ashamed to find tears behind her eyes. She was supposed to be the perfect lady, the perfect princess. But she was so scared. This act would be the last bit of her childhood stripped away. Oberon would leave, and she would be Elia Targaryen. The dark halls offered a brief comfort. It was a blessed moment out of the glare of court. Up ahead she saw a balcony. Quickly, Elia picked up her pace. Being a lady be damned she was going to get air.

“Thank-” She was not alone. A woman dressed in blue straightened her posture. Elia was stuck. There was a sort of wild beauty about her. It was so unlike the ladies at court, or even her own. But something so free and spirited. The girls h/c hair was let loose to her waist. E/c eyes, wild as the free forests beyond the walls. Maybe these thoughts were overly romantic. But Elia couldn’t help feeling them. “Your Grace.” She quickly jumped into a curtsy. “May I inquire about your name?” “Y/n of House Stark, Your Grace.” “Well, Y/n of House Stark, would you accompany me to the gardens?” The girl looked shocked, but not displeased (much to Elia’s relief). Y/n offered her arm, much in the way a knight might to his lady.

“It must be a very long way from Dorne. Do you find it cold here?” “Not much. Dorne is not always so hot. Do you find this too warm for you?” “A bit. It has been a cold winter.” The two of you had walked to the Weirwood Tree. Elia walked towards the tree and placed thin fingers upon its branch. The bark was like nothing she had felt before. It was both rough yet soft to the touch. “Isn't it beautiful.” Y/n’s fingers brushed the leaves. “Are there many of these trees up north?” Elia asked. “They're not all that common. You know we have one up at Winterfell.” A longing look passed over the girl's face. “Is everything well Lady Stark?” “It's just that this tree looks so lonely here. Weirwoods belong in the north.” At that moment, Elia knew this girl was as homesick as she herself was.

You had only been back at Winterfell for two months when Queen Rhaella sent for you. Lyanna had snuck up some lemon cakes from the kitchen. Benjin, Lyanna, and yourself were quite happy to finish. “Do you think we should share these with Brandon and Eddard?” Benjin took a bite out of the cake. Lyanna shook her head vigorously. “They’re too old for lemon cakes anyway.” Said you, older than Eddard and Brandon. That was when it happened. All three of you heard your father's footsteps down the hall. “Quick!” You covered the lemon cakes and shoved them under the bed. Not a moment later Lord Rickard Stark burst in, pride all over his face. “Y/n, you have been summoned to serve Princess Elia.” All three of you stood there, thunderstruck. It was Lyanna who burst out first. “What!?” She howled. Richard sent her a look and focused on you. “Y/n, may I speak with you?” It was with ill grace that Lyanna and Benjin left. Your father took a seat by the fireplace. You followed his example. “Y/n, as much of an honor this is, I want to make sure this is alright with you.” Lord Richard had always intended to sow roots in the south. But giving his eldest daughter to that pit of dragons, known as the Red Keep, made him pause. This was to be expected. You always knew one day you would leave. The court was stifling. You didn’t want to go. But you also didn’t want to let down your father. And then there was Princess Elia. She seemed sweet the last time you met her. “If it is your wish, so be it.”

Elia didn’t know why she was fussing over her appearance. Today she wore a Targaryen red. Elia didn’t like the colour. She wanted her oranges, yellows and whites back. King Aerys had a habit of giving unwanted comments regarding her Dornish style. She sat on a throne-like chair in her quarters, surrounded by her ladies. Among their numbers were Ashara Dayne, Malaria Sand and Nymeria Martell. At least she had been allowed to keep three of her friends. The doors swung open and Y/n entered. This time, her hair was done up. She wore soft blue fabric with wolves along the edges. “Your Grace.” You dipped into a curtsy. Elia stood up. “Lady Y/n, it is a pleasure to see you again.” Elia’s lips touched Y/’s cheek. It was cold as ice.

Despite how cold Y/n may have felt, everything else about her was warm. There was something about her voice, eyes and gentle hands that reminded Elia of the warm wind rolling over the sand. She was quiet, rarely voicing her opinion. But there was a tenderness Y/n showed that Elia had rarely felt. Perhaps it was the way Elia was used to being treated in Kings Landing. Y/n seemed to know what she needed. What she wanted. It was the small things. Like Y/n brushing her hair after a hard day, or making her a crown of Weirwood leaves.

Elia had never enjoyed rude health. That was what Nymeria Martell had told you. Though Elia tried to hide it, you could soon tell. She got exhausted quickly, sometimes had a delicate stomach and every month her period nearly made her collapse. Despite this all, she kept strong. That was what you admired about her. She truly embodied the words of her house. Unbowed. Unbend. Unbroken. She was a true lady. But you could tell that Elia wished for something more. One time, you had been training when Elia chanced upon you. At first you thought her angry. But you came to realize it was a longing. A longing to not be so constrained. So one day you decided to take her out for a ride. The rest of the ladies watched nervously as you helped Elia onto a steed. You had chosen a big northern horse. One that was stable and wouldn’t bolt. You got on behind Elia. Elia relaxed against you, black hair let loose. The wind whistled past you. Elia giggled as her fingertips brushed the leaves overhead. “Can you take me to the meadow?” “I am yours to command.” A laugh passed your lips. Just beyond this forest was a meadow owned by the royal family. “Over there!” Elia pointed to a warm spot with soft grass. Elia sat on the blanket you laid down. “I do think we have lost the rest!” It was another few minutes before the rest galloped into the clearing.

Later that night Elia found herself alone with Y/n, yet again. Elia, feeling better than most days, went for a walk with her. With laughter on her lips, Y/n gushed over the thrill of horse riding. Elia’s head rested against your shoulder, tired-eyed. Y/n sat down under the tree, bringing Elia with her. “Thank you Y/n.” Elia tangled her fingers with Y/n. “Would you like to do it again?” Elia nodded. Suddenly, she shivered. A wind had blown from the north. Not used to the cold, she shivered against Y/n. Immediately Y/n tossed off her cloak and put it over Elia’s shoulders. Her fingers went over the fine needlework. Despite their differences, one thing both girls were good at was sewing. On the back was the head of a dire wolf, the sigil of House Stark.

Elia’s first birth had been hard. You were woken by the feeling of something warm and wet against your thighs. At first, you thought Elia simply had an accident. But the metallic smell that reached you told a different story. Quickly you lit a candle and pulled back the sheet. Blood pooled between Elia’s legs. Gently so as not to alarm her, you woke Elia up. Before you could say anything Elia clutched her pelvis and moaned. You shook awake Lady Ashara and she in turn woke the midwife. Soon the room was bustling where once it had been quiet. You weren’t sure how long it lasted. Elia clutching your hand all the time. She bore the pain remarkably well. That was the price one paid with Elia’s condition. The midwives had Elia walk from one end of the room to the other. The sun was well in the sky when the midwife laid Elia down. “Y/n… if I die..” Your hand smoothed her black hair back. It burned to the touch. “Don’t say that. You’ve done so well.” Under your breath, you muttered old Northern prayers. Even a few to the Seven and Mother Royne. Finally, the baby came. A little girl, small and perfect. The midwife placed her in your trembling arms. “Elia, you did it.” Too weak to hold her baby, Elia touched the baby's chubby cheek. For one blessed moment, it was just you and Elia. Together in your world with the baby. Your serenity was broken. Rhaegar burst in. “My daughter! It’s a girl, right?” Relief swept through your veins. At least he would not be disappointed. Rhaegar took her from your arms. “We shall call her Rhaenys.”

Was it alarming how quickly Rhaegar had chosen the baby's name? Elia liked Rhaegar, perhaps even loved him. She took pleasure in their couplings, and he was kind. But recently something dark had settled over their lives. He spent more time at his desk reading rolls upon rolls of paper. Elia had tried to help, but he rejected any attempt. Rhaegar naming Rhaenys without her consent was the most startling. While most wives did bend to the will of their husbands. But even so, to make a decision like this without so much as consulting her was worrying. It also tickled her pride. Was she not his wife, a princess, and future Queen? Elia didn’t voice her frustrations, but the beginnings of resentment were starting to take root.

Elia had been absolutely bedridden. While Elia slept, you took Princess Rhaeneys outside to the courtyard. A wet nurse and nanny followed in your wake. The baby was swaddled in layers of soft fur. The baby took after Elia the most. With delicate features and short black hair. “Aren’t you the cutest little thing, hm?” Your finger brushed her forehead. “Lady Stark.” It was the King. The three of you sunk down into a curtsy. “Lady Stark, how is my wife?” “She is getting better, your Grace. Though still very tired. Would you like to hold your daughter?” You held out the baby. Rhaegar pressed himself very close. So close in fact that his nose was just inches from yours. Uncomfortable, you stepped back.

The Prince Who Was Promised. It was the prophecy passed down from ruler to heir for three hundred centuries. One day the Song of Ice and Fire would come, and the night of darkness driven away. He had correspondents in the North. And things were not looking peaceful beyond the wall. In fact, events progressed alarmingly fast. Wildlings were starting to form groups, and corpses rose where the sun did not dare shine. He needed the three heads of the dragon. He needed the Prince that was Promised. Elia had done well to fall pregnant quickly. And better yet, it was a girl. From the delicate look of her features and gentle purple eyes he knew her to be a Rhaenys. But there was always one part that bothered him. It said the Song of Ice and Fire. The fire aspect came in. But where the ice? Perhaps it would be his future Aegon’s wife, an ice bride. But could they wait that long? Would the Song of Ice and Fire come true in time? It had been another long night of scroll searching. After only a little sleep, he set out. The cold hair did well to rouse him from exhaustion. Rhaegar was strolling in the courtyard when he saw her. He recognized the lady as Y/n Stark, eldest daughter of Lord Stark. The second their eyes met, Rhaegar's chest contracted. Now this was a Visenya. With a wild, harsh beauty and muscles defined by years of training. Almost without thinking he walked up to her. He didn’t even hear what she had to say. This was ice.

Rhaegar was visiting more frequently. It was sweet to see him hold his daughter and sing to her. He even spent time with her ladies, dancing and singing to them. At first, like many, you found this change quite nice. Who wouldn’t want to be sung to by a prince? But Rhaegar had an ulterior motive. You never liked the way he gripped you. It was like vines over brick. Like he might bind himself to you. At first, you convinced yourself it was all in the head. But Rhaegar had a habit of suddenly popping up in unexpected places. Before, you had hardly exchanged a word. Now, he seemed to be everywhere.

“I hear blue roses grow in Winterfell.” Elia had gone to change for bed, leaving you and Rhaegar in the same room. He had stopped you from leaving. It was awkward to say the least, sitting here so closely to the Prince, a married one at that. “Yes, they grow in our greenhouse.” You replied. He was looking at you so intently. “And I assume they are very beautiful.” “I think so. My sister likes to make them into crowns.” “Tell me about your sister.” “Lyanna has only just turned thirteen. You saw her at the wedding, brown hair and gray eyes.” “And does she use a sword like you do?” “Yes, and horse riding is a passion of hers.” Suddenly, Rhaegar’s hand came up to your face. He brushed strands of hair out of your face. “I wouldn’t mind bringing blue roses to Kings Landing, My Lady.” Your heart dropped.

You now knew what his intentions were. Despite your lack of romantic interaction, it was obvious. And why in the name of the Old Gods did it have to be you! Rhaegar, unlike most previous Princes, had the reputation for being faithful to his wife. So why is he focused on you?! Your greatest fear was that Elia would find out. Would she hate you? The thought made you puke.

Elia was pregnant six months after her ordeal. That was when Rhaegar had the brilliant idea that the best place for Elia was Dragonstone. And my Gods was it the worst place you had ever visited. It was damp and cold. Elia spent most days bundled under the furs of her bed. For once her work remained undone. Elia had truly hit her limit. One night, you had finished singing a sleeping Elia a Roynish lullaby, when Rhaegar came in. Your hands tightened. “Lady Y/n, I see my wife is asleep.” “Yes.” You hoped he would leave. Instead he walked over and sat on the bed. You didn’t know whether to leave or stay. “I hear you are unmarried, My Lady.” You knew where this was going. “My father intends for me to marry Lord Baratheon.” You wanted to squash any ideas he might have. “You need not marry him, or is that your wish?” Was he serious!? Of course you would! At that moment it became too much. “Please Your Grace, I am very exhausted and am unable to entertain you any longer.” Your voice trembled with suppressed fear and rage. Something in Rhaegar’s Valyrian purple eyes changed and he gripped your hand. “Meet me in the caves, tomorrow after breakfast.”

Breakfast was hard to stomach. You could feel Rhaegar's eyes on you. It became too much. You vomited. That was all you could do after breakfast. Stumbling to the lavatory you hunched over. “Y/n!” Elia caught you by the arm. Steadying yourself against her, it was hard to walk. She walked you out of the room. Unfortunately, someone followed you. “Lady Y/n, I’ve been seeking your company.” Of course, it was Rhaegar. Because he couldn’t help turning up at unpleasant moments. “I think Y/n better rest.” Elia lead you away. “Wait.” Rhaegar had seized your arm. What happened next shocked you. The second Rhaegar had you, Elia tore his hand off. “She is unwell.” There was a steely bite to her voice. Before Rhaegar could do anything more, Elia led you away.

Fire and Blood. The famous saying of house Targaryen. But what of House Martell? Was their sigil not the sun? Perhaps Rhaegar was under the assumption that the blood of Martell was not as hot as his. Well, he was about to discover otherwise. Rhaegar had been reading his scrolls when Elia burst in, without ceremony. Never in her life had Elia felt so enraged. For the first time it was impossible to bottle her feelings up. Her fingers itched to tear at his face. She actually hated him. Elia had noticed a change in Y/n’s demeanor as of late. Where once she had been happy and cherrful, now Y/n was like a shadow. How when Rhaegar visited Y/n shrunk away. Every time Rhaegar approached Y/n, which was alarmingly often, she recoiled from his touch. The day when Elia had fallen asleep in her arms, she woke to Rhaegar storming off. Y/n, still clinging to her, sobbing openly. Something akin to jealousy stirred up in Elia’s chest. But much stronger like a storm. It had a grip on her heart. It kicked at her stomach. This was a different sickness. Instead of being laid low, it made her want to rage “You keep away from her.” Elia’s hands slammed into the table, fingernails piercing its surface. “Whom do you speak of?” Rhaegar looked up at her coolly. “You know who. Do not play a fool with me, Rhaegar Targaryen.” Rhaegar set down the scrolls. “Elia, the purpose of this matter is much greater than you and I.” Elia let out a derisive snort. “Getting your prick wet is hardly a great matter.” “I believe it is time to tell you. Elia, I must tell you the Song of Ice and Fire.”

“He’s as mad as his father.” Elia lay awake that night. Did he truly need Y/n for this “prophecy”. No wonder the Targaryens went mad, if they all followed this. Elia turned over to where Y/n lay. This past year Y/n had been the one to sleep beside her when Rhaegar was nose-deep in scrolls. While it was not required, Elia hated being alone. Y/n turned, facing Elia. She looked so calm, so peaceful. Elia held her cold hand, she then moved closer. That night, Elia swore nothing would ever happen to Y/n.

And so Elia kept her word. She always had someone report on Rhaegr’s whereabouts. Elia’s first thought had been to dismiss Y/n. It would be painful, but Y/n would be safer there. Perhaps Rhaegar would forget about her and one day Elia could invite Y/n back. But Rhaegar would never let her. There was one alarming change. Rhaegar was now letting Elia in on his research. How there would be a great Prince to vanquish the Others. Elia hated thinking about it, but at least she knew what Rhaegar was up to.

“Elia look!” The morning you received a gift from your sister. Lyanna had taken blue winter roses and tried them, pressed between two pieces of glass. The picture was lovely.

Sister,

I hope you are well. I hope these roses find you soon. Given you are stuck on Dragonstone. There are many this year. When you visit, there will probably be more. Dad has currently grounded me because I poured wine on Brandon’s head. Which was unfair because he was making fun of me. The only satisfaction I have is that Brandon can no longer visit the whore houses, at least for the next week. But I don’t see why I need be punished.

Everyone is doing well. Benjin is still annoying, father and Eddard send their love. Ps. There are socks for the Princess Rhaenys.

Love,

Lyanna Stark

You pulled out a pair of socks. They were actually quite nicely sewn.

“Your sister wrote to you? What did she say?” Elia looked over. “She sends me her love. And socks for the Princess.” “Well I am very grateful. I shall send my thanks.” Elia picked up the Princess from her colt. “Shall we?” The two of you liked to take walks by the ocean. It was nice and soothing and briefly banished all your troubles. You had taken off your shoes, sand between your toes. “Would you like go to back to Winterfell?” Elia asked. “I do miss home. Father may call me back for my marriage.” You said. But you wondered if Rhaegar would let you. While he had left you alone, it was still scary. The fear that Rhaegar might resume his advances was frightening. “If at any point you wish to.” Normally you would have not thought twice about saying yes. But something didn’t sit well with you. Why was Elia so eager for you to leave? Usually, Elia was hard put to have you leave her side. And the timing was suspect in itself. You finally voiced your fears.

“Rhaegar’s been confronting me as of late.” You had to get it out. As much as you loathed it. The secret was banging against your chest, begging to get out. “I know.” Elia sighed. Your legs buckled, tears bringing themself to the surface. “I didn’t want it.” You sobbed. Your shoes dropped as tears spilled over. Your hands clutched at your chest as if that might alleviate the pain. Your body fell to the ground. Elia came down with you, one arm around your shoulder. Her lips brushed against you hairline. “I know my dear, I know.” But you couldn’t stop crying. The relief you felt was enormous. As stressful as the situation had been, at least you knew Elia didn’t blame you. The sea crashed in the distance and seemed to come to a standstill as you rested against Elia. You cried into her shoulder for what felt like ages. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotten my tears all over your dress.” You sniffed. Elia laughed and pulled you further into her embrace. “It’s just a dress, you're more important.” Baby Rhaenys cooed between you two. Elia ran a finger down the bridge of her nose. “I think Rhaenys needs to go inside.” Both of you stood up. “Elia, could I have a moment alone?” Her hand stroked your cheek. You wanted some time alone. Your emotions were so on edge you might explode.

You watched Elia walk back inside. It was only when Elia went inside that you continued on your way. Getting cold feet, literally, you slipped on your shoes and went to the cliffside. The wind whipped around like a tempest. You allowed the wind to ruffle your hair. Maybe this is why Targaryens came here. There was a sense of peace you got from the elements. It was as if the wind might carry your pain away. Your eyes closed, letting emotion take over. You fell, fingers digging into cold, tough soil. Your nails cried out from the strength in which they were forced into the ground. A cold, hard breath left your body, carried away by the wind. Throwing your head back, you sent a prayer to the wind. Only the gray sky above was witness to your cry. Or so you thought.

“Lady Stark.” A cold, shaking hand clasped on your trembling lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. He came closer, one footstep after another, the ground giving way to his wake. Legs became stiff as lead. A strong hand seized your shoulder. “Lady Stark, please turn.” Only doing so when he put pressure on the shoulder that you unwillingly turned. Acid rose up in your throat. “Your Grace…please.” Tears fell freely. You didn’t care about dignity anymore. Right now all you knew was exhaustion and fear. “Y/n, I know this is unprompted, but there is information I must divulge.”Rhaegar’s eyes looked desperate and wild. There was a flame in those dark purple eyes. It was like you could feel the heat emanating from them, like wildfire. “Elia is not ice. I need a child of fire and ice." “You’re Grace, the Princess has already given you a healthy daughter. And it would be beneath my honor to have a bastard.” “Not a bastard My Lady, a prince.” A wild laugh burst from your lips, arms breaking free from his grip. Alarmed, Rhaegar stepped back. You must have looked mad yourself, hair freely flying behind you, eyes wide and savage. “Make no mistake My Prince. You will never have me or my love if that is what you are after. And when I bear a child it shall not be with a dragon. Dragons do not fare well in the cold.” “Ice is just what I desire. The Prince that was Promised, the Three-Headed Dragon. Elia can not give me that.” You feel to your knees, angry tears tearing at your skin. “You would…… you would abandon your wife for what!? You are mad!” Rhaegar knelt down to your level, hand on your chin. You broke. Rhagar howled as sharp teeth drove into his pale skin. You were thrown to the ground with the state of blood overcoming the scenes. “So this is how it is. I shall leave you to your own devices then.” He spat. Rhaegar walked away.

The next few days were spent in silent terror. You had harmed a Prince, treason. Even the daughter of Lord Rickard Stark was not immune to the rules. Hiding under the covers at night, you expected guards to come in at any moment. But to your surprise and delight, Rhaegar had left you alone. However, that didn’t mean this was the end. Elia suspected something was wrong. She was constantly by your side, more than usual. In public you were side by side, arms linked. But soon news came that caused a flurry of excitement. A tourney was being held at Harrenhal. Soon everything was being packed up and ready to leave that dreary rock. Maybe you would feel better once off Dragonstone.

Arriving at Kings Landing was a blessed relief. Even the tall red walls were better than windswept Dragonstone. Two days later, your family arrived. “Lyanna!” Forgoing courtesies, you left Elia’s side to hug your sister. Since you had last seen her, Lyanna had gotten taller. Her dark brown hair was long and tidy, cheeks a rosy glow. Lyanna practically jumped on you in her excitement. “Y/n! I’ve missed you so!” One of Elia’s ladies made an “ahem” noise and the two of you quickly broke apart. “Princess, this is my sister, Lady Lyanna Stark.” Lyanna curtsied, you noticed she had improved. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lyanna. Your sister tells me much.” Lyanna blushed. “Good things, I hope.” Elia laughed at the jest. “Very. Now how about we enjoy these lemon cakes and you tell me stories about Y/n when she was younger.” The rest laughed as you groaned.

The mood in Elia’s solar was pleasant. Lyanna seemed to enjoy eating cake and telling ever embarrassing stories about your childhood. “And then she fell right into the pigpen.” Lyanna laughed. “Only because you pushed me.” You snorted, giving her a gentle swat. Elia looked happier than she had in a long while, baby Rhaeneys situated on her lap. For that short time, no one had any worries. Until Rhaegar arrived. Elia’s smile faded and the sun was put out. The rest of you shrunk back as if confronted by the plague. The only person who seemed to be unfazed was Lyanna. “Your Grace.” She said and then sat back down. He walked over and pressed a kiss to Elia’s cheek. “My Love, I hope you are well.” But Rhaegar’s eyes were not on you, but Lyanna's. “Fire and Ice.” You had not known what Rhaegar meant by those words. It was only now that he was looking at Lyanna did you realize. If he could not have you, he would have her.

Your maid had just finished brushing your hair when a knock sounded at the door. “Who is it?” The maid called out. “It’s me.” Lyanna’s voice called out. “Let her in.” The door opened and a muddy, flushed Lyanna stumbled in, a grin wide over her face. “Prince Rhaegar let me join in on the hunt.” Your blood froze. Even breathing took great effort. “Please leave us.” The maid curtsied and departed. It was only when her footsteps faded did you speak. “Lyanna, what exactly did he do?” “Well, I was in the courtyard practicing my archery when he saw me! Honestly, I thought he would tell me off, but instead, he let me hunt some stag! It was so much fun!” Poor Lyanna. At fourteen, the girl did not realize the Prince’s intentions were not so innocent. “Lyanna, I believe he is trying to court you.” Your insides squirmed at the words, but she needed to hear them. The thought of Rhaegar taking advantage of your innocent sister made you physically ill. At first, Lyanna laughed. But when she realized you weren't jesting, those laughs turned into sobs. You pulled your sister into a hug, hand brushing her hair. "I swear I didn’t do anything.” Her tears stained your nightgown. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you one bit.” You let Lyanna sleep in your bed that night. After a cup of hot milk and honey, she went to sleep. But you stayed awake all night, thinking about what to do next.

Lyanna was in your presence at all hours. However, your duties conflicted with your plans. During dinner, you had to leave with Elia. Ever since her second pregnancy quickened her breasts had been swollen and red. You had only left Elia when she was in bed. You’d gone for a walk when Lyanna ran into Y/n. She was pale with red eyes. Wordlessly she flung her arms around your waist, fingers clutching the fabric. “Has Rhaegar bothered you again!” “Yes, yes he has! I was riding by myself when he came up to me. I tried to shake him off when he caught up and insisted we ride together.” “Did he do anything?” “He touched my hand. “And that is all?” “Yes, I promise.” Relief. At least he had not taken her maidenhead. But that did not mean you weren’t angry. “Go to bed Lyanna, I will deal with him tomorrow. It was time for the dragons to realize wolves too had fangs.

Requesting a meeting with the Prince terrified you. But Lyanna being in danger was far more horrifying. So that was why on a cold night, you stood in front of Rhaegar’s large oak door, the three-headed dragon carved into its surface. The torches gave the entrance an eerie atmosphere. You heard him call you in. Into the dragon's den, you went.

You had never been to Rhaegar’s solar before. It was a quiet, mysterious place. The circular wall was lined with shelves. The only light came from the fireplace, above the mantel held a curved blade. “Lady Y/n. I admit, I had not expected you to request an audience.” Dangerous. That was the only word you could describe his voice. Each syllable dripped off his tongue like poison. A predator ready to strike. “I wish to speak to you regarding my sister, Lady Lyanna.” Your fingernails dug into your palms. “ Yes. Your sister is quite lovely. A credit to your house.” A slight smirk made its way onto his face. “I am aware, My Prince. But I worry that your attentions may be taken as…..something more than they should not be.” Rhaegar’s eyes flashed something fierce and a malevolent smirk stretched over his lips. “So now that another has my heart you want me?” Flabbergasted. Was Rhaegar so enraptured by the prophecy that he could not see sense?! “My Prince, she is my sister and engaged to Lord Tyrell. If you pursue her Lyanna;s prospects will be ruined.” Rhaegar’s purple eyes hardened as his elbows rested on his knees. “Lady Y/n, if you accept my proposal I would not need to pursue Lady Lyanna.” You seemed unable to breathe through your mouth. Lungs barely able to circulate air. Rhaegar got to his feet, walking towards you. His large hands placed themselves on your shoulders, his lips inches from yours. Warm breath hits your chest, the skin heating up. “Please…..she’s so young.” You clutched his hands imploringly.There was not even room to cry, every organ in your body was ice. His hand cupped your cheek, getting closer. You could now taste his breath. Before Rhaegar knew it, you had fled.

A snake and a wolf lay together in the darkness. The heaviness of your situation suffocating. “Lyanna needs to go back north.” Elia’s hand held yours. “I know. The tournament will be over tomorrow.” Elia attempted to console you. “But what if he tries to harm Lyanna before then?!” Tears choked your lungs. Elia hushed you gently and wrapped her arms around you. The snake coiled herself gently around her wolf.

It was only by pure chance that you figured out Rhaegar’s plan. You had woken early that morning, clad in a simple blue dress and shawl. This morning had a cold touch in the wind, reminding you of Winterfell. Oh how you would like to go back to those days. Harenhall still bore the marks from Aegon’s attack all those centuries ago. A man whose belief in his divine right to rule was so strong he took over six kingdoms. This castle was just a remnant of this pride. Targaryen's had always been this way, taking what they want. You walked out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Looking down below, you recognize a familiar curtain of silver hair. With haste, you made to disappear before he might look up and see you. That was until something caught your eye. Rhaegar had in his hands a crown of blue winter roses. Roses that only grew in Winterfell. This did not sit right with you. He must be making it for the tourney today. But why would he go to such lengths to get blue roses for this one occasion? Most would believe that this was a touching gesture from Rhaegar to Elia. But why winter roses? Why not flowers from Dorne? Rage choked you. How dare he. How fucking dare he! You wanted to claw his eyes out and feed him to the wolves. No matter what, Rhaegar would pursue his desires. He was a dragon. A dragon you wanted to defang. You looked down at the young prince. Had he cared to look up, Rhaegar would have seen a she-wolf staring right down at him.

You had gained sickness when Elia woke up. The sad look on her face made you ill, but this needed to be done. Once everyone was gone, you slipped out of bed and hurried to Benjin’s room. Only Benjin and Lyanna knew what you were up to. “I think this will fit you.” Lyanna held up a breastplate. Benjin helped put on your armor as Lyanna handed him pieces. “All done!” Benjin admired his handiwork. You ruffled his dark hair. Lyanna was rummaging under the bed. “Lyanna? Everything alright?” “Yes.” Lyanna grunted. She hauled out a shield and turned it over. On its surface was a Weirwood tree. “Shall we start?” Lyanna asked. Grimly, you and Benjin nodded.

All that could be heard were the horse's thundering hooves. All your energy was put into defeating this latest opponent. Though you had jousted before, never had your limits been pushed thus. Your left arm was screaming in pain. Every time the pain became too much to bear, you looked up to Elia, Lyanna and Benjin. Only Lyanna and Benjin knew the truth. Yet the way Elia’s eyes followed you made you think she knew. Finally, you made it to the final round. In all honesty, you hadn’t expected to make it this far. But this was it. This was why you had entered the arena and this fight. “I announce, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen!” A roar louder than the waves against Storm’s End came up from the stands. He was clad in true Targaryen armor, making him look like the dragon he was. But even dragons were not invincible. The Dornish had brought down Meraxes, and by all the old Gods you would take down this one. Your lances lowered, it had begun.

You and Elia saw under the Weirwood Tree. Elia’s head lay in your lap while you made a crown of weirwood leaves. You told her the story of Aemon the dragonknight and his love Naerys. Whether it was romantic or the love a brother had for a sister was unknown. But it comforted you to think that the sad Queen Naerys had someone by her side. The path of a Queen or princess was lonely, as you had witnessed. Elia had always been a princess from the day of her birth. In Dorne there were the vipers that never harmed their precious princess. The same could not be said of Kings Landing. Elia opened her brown eyes and smiled at you. “What's this?” She asked, eyeing the leaf crown. “Something for the tourney.” “For Brandon?” You gave her a sly smile. “Not so your grace.” If the vipers could not protect Elia, then this lone wolf would.

It all happened in one moment. People in the audience were not even sure what had happened. Two great beasts had launched at each other. In the end, it was the mysterious Weirwood tree knight who remained standing. And then a shriek arose from the crowd. Of shock, surprise, excitement, and wonder. This knight with no name had unhorsed the prince. The knight's white stallion trotted over the squire who handed her a crown of Weirwood leaves and orange Dornish flowers. And went right up to the Princess. Elia stood on the balcony. Instead of shock or horror, her face held something no one but the princess and her knight knew. Their eyes met and at least for that day, as Elia set the crown upon her brow, everything was right in the world.

[angelyuji]

smart, genius yanderes making their obsession feel stupid and dumb so they rely on them for everything???? bimbo reader is one of my fav tropes becuz... i am stupid :)

tw // yandere content, emotional abuse, just being mean, yandere stuff u guys know the deal

constantly belittling you, demeaning you, as a way of lowering your self-esteem. making you second-guess everything you do as a way of making you depend on them for the simplest of tasks. snapping at you and immediately turning around and comforting you.

"don't be stupid. you should know better than that." he snaps, snatching the pen from your hands.

"what? what did i-" you feel your face heat from embarassment.

"(y/n), this is a job application." he snatches that paper from your hands.

"i know what it is..." you try to reach for it, but he holds it away. "i just want to help you."

"help me? i don't need your help, (y/n)." he grabs at your hair, pulling you off your chair to the ground. you yelp in pain as his fingers tangle in your hair and yank at your scalp. "why would they hire you? what qualities do you have that they would want? you're an idiot, a fucking idiot. you can barely cook a decent meal without my help." his voice was laced with venom. you feel tears slip down your face.

"i'm sorry." you meekly whisper. "you're right, i'm too stupid." you choke out a sob. he smiles before shushing you, letting go of your hair. he sits down next to you and pulls you into a hug. you melt into his touch.

"it's okay, that's why i'm here. to take care of you."

definitely: spencer reid (post-prison), bruce wayne, tony stark, 707, elias bouchard, gojo satoru

maybe: dick grayson, sam winchester, charles xavier, jason todd

[meo-eiru]

A new expression

[tsuutarr]

The Hero has destroyed the world for you.

The world is in disarray, with only you and the “Hero” remaining. He was never one for many words, so your mind is still reeling from what little he’s told you. The world ended because he is unwilling to let you become a sacrifice. But…

You can hardly agree with his choice, not when so many people have died – when all you can see is ash and ruin.

Perhaps you should’ve expected it – seen the signs of his spiraling mental state. You think back to the first time he had scared you.

With a final swing of his sword, blood spilled out onto the withering grass, painting the ground with a crimson hue. It was a complete bloodbath and you could only tremble as he stood among piles and piles of bodies – bandits that had tried to kill you. 

Silently, he looked at you, eyes empty.

It scared you. 

Yet, slowly, the vitality in his eyes returned as he approached you.

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” he murmured, gently cupping your cheek. “I’ll protect you.”

At the time, you thought that his response was… understandable. The bandits were aiming for your life, after all. An eye for an eye and all that.

Oh, but how wrong you were.

There were many, many other signs of his declining mental state – all of which you had failed to notice. Or maybe you chose not to notice. So, now, all you can do is stare at him, unsure of what exactly you should be feeling. Just how long has he been this way?

“I’m not sure,” he responds, placing a warm bowl of soup in front of you. Despite the destruction of the world, you find yourself tucked away in a cozy cottage in a pretty forest. You’re not sure how this place escaped ruin, but your mind doesn’t want to think about it. “Maybe I’ve always been this way. Maybe I wasn’t.”

You look at him silently as reaches over to grab your hand, his eyes empty with anything but love.

“But it doesn’t really matter now, does it?” he squeezes your hand, “I have you now, after all.”

[incognitonoggin]

Hi wondering if you could do them together? If not do separate and what you feel comfortable with 🙏🏼

Yan proxies with an s/o that tried escaping and failed-nsfw if you can-again only if ur comfortable

SJSHSJEHEH ANON I LOVE YOU TY FOR THE ASK!!

YANDERE PROXIES WITH A S/O THAT TRIED TO ESCAPE

NSFW . MINORS DNI

GN! READER

Includes: “Ticci” Toby, Masky/Tim, Hoodie/Brian

TOBY

• You seriously thought you’d get away? How cute.

• The second you had kicked ‘em off of you and began to run, he was quick to yank your arm back and have you shrinking under his gaze.

• You could immediately tell he was kind of pissed, but you’re his sweetheart! He has to be patient with you.

• … Doesn’t mean he’s going to be gentle though.

• Will drag that same arm to the nearest flat surface (be it a wall for Christ’s sake) and off to pound town you go!

• Sex will be full of.. I guess.. Claiming???

• He’ll go on and on about how you’re his and how your hole(s) belong to him and how you’ll never amount to anything without him and you’re better off stuck with him (in a positive way, I suppose…)

• You’ll be left with dozens of marks afterwards and he wont hesitate to be passive aggressive and rough😭

HOODIE

• Have fun with this man!

• He’ll pull you back tightly by the waist, and drag you on into his lap

• Will yank your pants off right then and there, just barely giving you the time to process everything.

• “You want to leave? Really? How about we change that.”

• As i said in a different fic, he will be silent but you can tell by his never ending glare that if you fuck up he will NOT hesitate to get violent.

• Very fast and roughly paced. Gonna have your eyes stinging and your lips moving in a repetitive motion as you mumble your pleas

MASKY

• Why would you run away from this man WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU /HJ

• He’s running up behind ya and covering your mouth with his hands like he’s got chloroform or something on them

• It’ll feel suffocating at first, but similarly to Brian, he will just throw you down and start fucking torturing you 😔

• It’s worse compared to the others, he’d be VERY cocky (ha, get it?) about it and mock you whilst you beg.

• Lord, the repeated slamming into your hole while he yanks your hair back (damn near breaking your neck) must be so violating 😟

[quintinh43]

Fucking Canada | Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke is out with an injury, Y/n is on break from school. Obviously, the only logical thing is for them to head down to Vancouver to visit Quinn.

Pairings: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Meantions of Anxiety, Drinking (drink responsibly kids), Some light suggestive content. Use of the name Mariana. Let me know if I missed anything!

Wc: 4.9k

This one's for @toasttt11, stay awesome 🫶🏼

---

Luke had been been out with an injury for a week. And it was driving him insane. He had begged and begged the trainers to at least allow him on the ice with the team. He'd batted his long eyelashes and given them puppy dog eyes and the famous Hughes pout, yet somehow they resisted and firmly told him he was not to touch a pair of skates until after his two-week check up.

And that was only if his check-up came back all ok. So in his boredom, he flew down to Michigan to spend time with you, and then decided that as soon as your break started he was flying both of you down to Vancouver for the week, because fuck he missed his big brother.

He rolled his wrist around in its brace, and you smack him in the chest. "Stop doing that. You're gonna aggravate your wrist and make it worse."

"Baby, I swear its fine," he whined, "The trainers don't know what they're talking about."

You snort, and grab his arm, pinning it beneath your torso, being careful to ensure that the strained part of his wrist was not under you.

"Baby, please," he whined, tugging his arm gently. "Let me up,"

"Only if you promise to stop rolling your wrist." You glare.

"I promise" Luke mumbles shifting towards you to run his lips along your jaw. Your stomach flutters, pink dusts across your cheeks, and you let him go immediately. He leans on his elbows and kisses down your neck.

"Luke" you whisper breathlessly.

"Hmm" he hums, nipping at the sensitive skin along the column of your troat.

You bite your lip, debating telling him off. But kissing Luke is much much better than studying physiology, and you haven't had a break in a while. You slam your textbook shut, and all but kick it off the bed.

"You're such a menace," you huff, he wraps his uninjured arm around you, and drags himself fully on top of you, kissing gently down your neck.

"You know you love me," he grins.

"You're lucky I do, Hughes. Now get back to kissing me,"

"Yes ma'am," he chuckles, lips dancing along your collarbones.

There's a knock on your door and before you can tell whoever it is to fuck off, your roommate and best university friend; Mariana barges in.

"Enough sexy time, kids!" she says, ignoring the murderous glares both you and Luke throw her way, "If you still want a ride to the airport, we are leaving in ten." She walks out, leaving the door open. You sigh, nudging Luke with your shoulder, to get off of you. He pecks one last kiss to your cheek and rolls off you, pulling you to your feet so the two of you can get all your things together.

You slide your laptop into your bag, grab all your chargers, and make sure you have an extra set of headphones. Because God knows the worst thing that could possibly happen is being stuck on an airplane with no muisc. After double and triple checking that you have everything, Mariana ushers you out the door hurriedly.

The ride to the airport is nothing special. You and Mariana sit in the front while Luke is banished to the back. You stretch an arm back to hold his hand, and he leans his head on your seat to be closer to you.

"Have fun in Vancouver Babe," Mariana says giving you a tight parting hug, and kiss on the cheek.

"Better take care of my girl Hughes, or I'm coming for that other wrist" She threatens, giving Luke a hug. Luke laughs, patting Mariana's back.

"You know it, Mari," he grins, winking at you.

"Text me when you land, ok?" She says, squeezing your shoulder.

"I will. Thanks for the ride, Mar." You hive her one last squeeze goodbye and take Luke's hand as you head through the airport.

Everything goes smoothly, thank God, and soon you and Luke are boarded the plane. It's a fight over who takes the window seat. You think Luke should have it cause he has longer legs, and Luke thinks you should have it because you deserve the best seat.

After convincing Luke that as long as you're sitting beside him, you do have the best seat, he reluctantly takes the window seat. And makes sure to tell you that if you want to switch at any time, just tell him.

You nod, knowing that you absolutely won't be doing that, but what Luke doesn't know won't hurt him.  You're set to arrive just before Quinn's game tonight, which means that the two of you won't get to see him until later. After going through your mental checklist, making sure everything is organized, you stick your headphones in and rest your head on Luke's shoulder and promptly pass out.

Luke is shaking you awake gently when it's time to get off the plane. "Wake up, Baby, it's time to get going," he says softly.

You sigh, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, "Alright lets go,"

You grab all of yours and Lukes belongings from the overhead compartment, much to his dismay. "Baby, let me help,"

"Luke Warren, I swear if you touch any of this luggage with that wrist, I'll chop it off," you say sternly. You hand him his backpack, and he slings it over his shoulder with a pout.

You grab his injured hand gently, lacing your fingers together as best as you can with his brace on, and head off the plane. As you step into the Uber, both your phones buzz with a text from Quinn.

Q: I left a key for you guys with the front desk, Luke just has to show some ID.

Q: You guys are coming to the game right?

Luke: Yep, excited to see you Q

You: Were just heading to your place now, to get settled and then we're on our way. See you soon!

Q: Excited to see you guys too.

You arrive at his apartment, and Luke shows his ID to the front desk, and they hand over the key. Quinn's apartment is nice, but it's so clean. It looks like a place out of a modern decor magazine, except for the photos of his family scattered here and there.

There's a two jerseys folded neatly on the bed with a sticky note that says 'Don't be a little bitch' on top. "Nope" Luke says as he immediately lays eyes on it, "I'm not wearing that, nither are you."

You roll your eyes at him, but don't argue. It makes sense that he wouldn't wear it. Players have a thing about not wearing another franchises merchandise. He unzips his suitcase and pulls out two black hoodies with white stitching that says Hughes 43 on the back. Except if you look carefully, the devils logo is stitched on the sleeve.

You shake your head with a smile and take the hoodie from him. "Let me just change into something better, and we'll head out."

Luke nods, digging around for a pair of jeans for himself.  The two of you make quick work of changing, and then you're on your way to the game. Quinn, smartly left the tickets under your name, lest someone spill the beans that Luke Hughes is in Vancouver to watch his brother play.

Your seats are right by the glass. When Quinn notices you, he skates over, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Bitches" he mouths with a smile, as he takes in the lack of Canuck blue in your outfits.

You grin and flash him a heart with your fingers while Luke flips him off, making sure he can see the devils logo on the sleeve. Quinn shakes his head at Luke and skates off to finish warm-ups.

Thankfully, no one really takes note of the interaction. Luke has a cap pulled low, so unless someone is really looking for Luke Hughes, then he shouldn't be recognized. The atmosphere is electric. Canadian hockey really hits differently.

The game is nerve-wracking, and for most of it, you and Luke are on the edges of your seats, grabbing at eachother hands, and slapping eachothers knees in excitement whenever something particular exciting happens. And when Quinn picks up a goal, the two of you are jumping and screaming.

The game ends with a canuck win, and as you two make your way down to the locker room to greet Quinn, you're chattering excitedly about all the good plays that were made. Especially Quinn's. He picked up a goal and three assists, making him the top point scorer of the game.

As he walks out of the locker room, he can't keep the smile off his face as he lands eyes on you and Luke. As much as he doesn't mind being on his own, seeing his family is always the best. You've been around the Hughes boys since you were growing up. From Toronto to Michigan. Your family's were really close and still are to this day.

He pulls you into a hug first, "Good to see you Y/n" he says, patting you on the back.

He goes to hug Luke, and in true brotherly fashion, he can't help but make a jab at him as does so. "I swear to God, you get taller every time I see you." Rather than standing on his tip toes to throw his arms around Lukes neck, he hooks his ankle around the back of Luke's knee and Luke's knees buckle.

Quinn catches him in a hug before he can hit the floor. You and Quinn are laughing, while Luke grumbles. He snatches Quinns hat off his head, making his hair stick up in every which way and holds it as high as he can. Quinn rolls his eyes, not taking the bait, and starts to walk.

Luke huffs and throws his hat back at him. "How did y'all get here?"

"Uber," you say, throwing an arm around Luke's waist as you walk. He drapes his arm around your shoulder, fingers brushing patters against your shoulder.

"The team is going out to celebrate. Do you guys wanna join, or do you want a ride home first?"

"Well, come with," Luke smiles, "Good game, dude, you made some nasty moves."

Pink dusts Quinn's cheeks, and he changes the conversation. "How's the wrist?"

Luke rolls his eyes, and before he can roll his wrist, you glare at him. "It's completely fucking fine."

"It's not" you say

"The trainers don't know what they are talking about." He mutters.

"They do" You add poking luke in the side.

Quinn scoffs, "Yes, im sure the people whose literal job it is to treat your injures don't know what they are talking about."

Luke pouts, "I can't believe my girl and my brother are ganging up on me like this,"

"Well, maybe if you weren't so stubborn." You and Quinn say simultaneously, looking at each other with a grin.

Luke grumbles unintelligiblly and Quinn throws his bags in this trunk. Luke takes the front seat, and this time, he's the one reaching his arm back to hold your hand. You smile, lacing your fingers together. Quinn rolls the eyes at the two of you with a smile.

The drive to the bar is filled with the light chatter of the three of you catching up about life. Unsurprisingly, Quinn has nothing interesting happening in his love life. The man eats, breathes, sleeps, and lives hockey. Luke teases him about becoming an old spinster while he glances at you lovingly. No doubt envisioning the magnificence that your lives will be together.

The bar is absolutely packed. Not surprisingly. It's a Friday night and the Canucks won. Some of the team is already there, in a roped off Vip area. They wave Quin over urgently. He grabs your hand and you grab Luke's so as not to get separated in the crowd of drunk people.

Quinn greets his teammates with hugs and back slaps and inside jokes. Some of them grin at you and Luke, wiggling their eyebrows at you and dragging Luke into hugs.

"So why are Mr. And Mrs. Huggy Jr. Here?" Brock asks, swirling the liquid in his glass.

Luke smiles at that, tracing his finger over the back of your left ring finger. "Luke is out injured, and I'm on a break from school," you shrug, playing with Luke's hand in yours.

"I'm going to get a refill," Luke hums, kissing the tip of your ear as he detangles himself from you, "want anything?"

"I'm good for now, baby," you say, kissing him on the cheek. When you turn back to the guys, they are all leaning close to you, batting their eyelashes like a group of High-school girls waiting to hear the latest drama about your crush.

Petey is the first to speak, "So when is he proposing?"

Millsy slaps him in the back of the head, "How is she supposed to know when he's proposing dumbass?"

"That man is so fucking whipped for you," Brock smirks, and you can't help the blush that colours your cheeks.

"You guys will have some cute babiess," Garland grins, just the slightest bit tipsy.

"Alright, alright, leave her alone. That's my sister-in-law you're bullying" Quinn says, coming to your rescue. He throws an arm around your shoulders, squeezing gently.

"You ok?" He asks quietly, the guys already forgetting the previous topic of conversation.

"Yeah, thanks Quinn," you smile, squeezing his hand back.

"Well, I'm absolutely beat, so I'm gonna go home. Do y'all wanna stay, or are you ready to head home?"

"We'll stay I think, me and Lukey are having fun, and I have yet to drag him to the dance floor. Are you ok to drive home?"

"Yeah, I haven't been drinking," Quinn says, smiling softly at your concern for him. "Sorry to leave y'all hanging."

"Don't worry about it, Quinn, we'll see you tomorrow. You played a good game, go get lots of rest," you smile, wrapping him in a quick hug.

He hugs you back and turns to address the guys. "I'm heading out if anyone wants a ride," Before the sentence fully leaves his mouth, Petey is practically throwing himself at Quinn. He stumbles into the two of you, and you both reach out to make sure he doesn't eat the floor. "I drank too much," he mumbles.

You laugh, patting his back, as Quinn stabilizes him. "I'm making you do bag skates next practice," Quinn says with entirely too much joy, as he practically half carries Petey out of the bar.

With Quinn gone, you dip out of the Vip section to find Luke, you spot him sitting at the bar, cheeks flushed, empty shot glasses littered suspiciously close to him. He's holding another glass that looks like soda, and there's a girl leaning much to close to him. He's leaning back slowly, looking very unimpressed.

Until he spots you. His megawatt lady killer smile appears as he all but pushes the other girl out of the way, and practically sprints to you, as well as someone can sprint in a crowded bar. Your hands rest on his arms, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Luke, are you ok?" You ask concerned, eyes flitting across his face, "have you been drinking?"

"Y/n!" He is way too giddy to be sober, "I know we said, we weren't drinking, but then I was sad about my wrist and someone said that the alcohol would make me feel better, so drank a little teeny tiny shot, and then another one cause somone got me another one, and then this group of girls asked me if I wanted to do shots with them, and I was gonna say no, but then they already ordered the shots and then-"

You cut off his drunk rambling, your voice laced with concern. "Luke baby, do you remember how many shots you took?" You ask, the calmness of your voice not giving way to the absolutely disastrous thoughts swimming in your head.

"Four, I think!" He grins, trying to count the glasses that were littered on the bar top in front of where he was sitting. There were five. Your eyes widen almost comically. He was barely gone for half an hour. He took five shots of straight alcohol in less than half an hour. Fuck.

Now it wasn't as if Luke hadn't drank before, undoubtedly he had. But definitely not that amount of alcohol in that span of time. Plus, it wasnt really recommended for professional athletes to drink anyways, so the amount of alcohol he'd consumed since the beginning of the season probably didn't even equate the amount that he'd drank tonight alone. Double Fuck.

And on top of all of that, Quinn had already left. "My wrist feels so much better!" Luke says happily, "I can take off my brace!" As he reaches for straps on his brace, you grab his hand.

"Absolutely not Luke." You lace your fingers with his to keep him from taking off his brace while you try to figure out what to do. Before you know what's happening, there's another full shot glass in front of you, and Luke is knocking it back. Triple Fuck.

"It burns," he pouts, shaking his head like he just ate something sour.

"Luke, how did you even get alcohol? we're underage!" The disbelief is evident in your voice.

The bartender hears your statement and decides that he'd better clear up that misconception before he gets into some kond of trouble. "No ma'am," he says, leaning over the counter. "I checked his ID, says he's twenty, that's legal"

Suddenly, you are very pissed that the bartender is telling you how old your own boyfriend is. Just as you're about to snap at him for clearly not being able to to his job correctly, if he thinks twenty is legal, you remember that you're no longer in the States.

You're in Canada. Fucking Canada. Racking your brain, you try to recall the legal age in British Columbia. You feel so stupid. It's nineteen. Ninteen year olds are legally allowed to drink in B.C. Luke is twenty. Fuck fuck fucking fuckitty fuck.

Before you sprial into a full-on panic, you take a deep breath. Luke is drunk out of his mind, and he needs to get home now, and you panicking will not help the situation. You slap your card down on the bar top and tell the bartender to close Luke's tab.

You don't trust Luke to be left to his own devices, so you sling his arm around your shoulder and half drag him to where you left your phone and purse with Brock. You gently guide Luke to sit on one of the chairs. He does so shakily and wraps one arm around your chest, pulling you flush against his body.

His knees are squeezing your hips, his fingers are tracing over your collarbones, and his face is tucked against your neck.

"Woah! is Huggy Jr. drunk?" Brock asks, grinning madly as he hands you your phone and purse.

"In the span of time that he disappeared, he took six fucking shots" you grumble, as you order an Uber to get home.

Brock almsot chokes on his drink. He stares wide eyes, "oh so he's fucking blackout," he takes his phone and snaps a photo of you and Luke. The glare that you send him is so murderous that if looks could kill he'd be six feet under.

"Sorry," he shrugs with a shit eating grin that says he's not sorry at all, "I need some proof of this for when he wakes up hating his life tomorrow."

"Alright, well, at least send it to me." You grumble, Brock laughs, and your phone buzzes with a notification from him immediately after. "And hey, please don't tell Quinn anything right now. He's probably home and in bed by now, and I don't wanna stress him out unnecessarily."

Brock nods, "Don't worry, kid, my lips are sealed." He sighs like an older brother, "if I was sober, i'd be driving you home."

"Oh Brock, don't worry about it. You guys had great games, and you deserve to celebrate. We'll be fine, I promise," you smile. Your heart melts a little, you've only met the canucks a few times but from the instant that you did they treated you like family.

"Alright, alright, just let me know when you're home safe, I'll feel much better."

"You got it, Brocky," you smile, standing on your tip toes to give him a friendly kiss on the cheek. Brock grins like a school boy who just got a kiss from his crush. Thankfully, drunk Luke doesn't decide to make an appearance. Otherwise, he might have absolutely decked Brock in the face.

Not that he would've succeeded, based on how drunk he is. You're almost sure he's fallen asleep. Until his lips start moving against your neck. Quadruple fuck. You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning out loud as he nips at your throat with so much care you'd think he was fully sober.

His fingers start to make patterns along your collarbones, dipping lower toward the curve of your breasts. You don't want him to stop.

"Luke," you whisper desperately, laying your head atop his gently.

His hum of response reverberates against your skin, and pleasure melts down your spine, stomach fluttering.

"Luke," you try again, voice strained as his teeth screen against the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, "not here baby, we're in public."

" 's go home" he murmers into your skin, "wanna fuck my pretty girl."

Your cheeks go red faster than you thought possible. What a time to find out Luke is a horny drunk.

"Luke," his name is a prayer on your lips. The fingers of his injured hand burn as they press into your waist.

" 'm starvin for you baby," he mumbles, the tips of his fingers brushing under the waistband of your jeans.

Heat coils in your stomach, and you bite your lip to keep a whimper from spilling from your lips. As if some Devine power is on your side, you get a notification that your Uber has arrived.

"Our ride is here." Your voice is practically a squeak.

"Want you to ride me." Luke says, and you can feel his lips turn up into a smirk against your skin. You have to cover your mouth with your hand. Luke chuckles darkly. "Pretty girl has to cover her mouth so everyone doesn't know what a dirty girl she is." he hums nosing at your neck. If you're here any longer, you might actually combust. You make sure you have everything because you can quite literally never return to this bar every again.

You help pull Luke out of his chair and drape one of his arms over your shoulder. You wrap your arm around his waist to keep him steady. "Gonna eat you up when we're alone," he mutters, his grin all teeth. He's so fucking beautiful it makes your troat go dry.

You're blushing like a school girl as you help him out of the bar. He's leaning most of his weight on you while he whispers dirty things in your ear. You're surprised that you even manage to get him out of the bar on your own, mainly because his comments are making you weak in the knees. And partially because he's a 6'2, 185-pound man.

You successfully get him into the backseat and give the driver Quinns address. Thank God he lives close. A ten minute drive at most. But unfortunately for you, it feels like hours.  Because Luke had been very perceptive as to how his advances were making you react and continues them with no mercy.

"So pretty f' me" he mumbles, hand trailing up your thigh, lips fluttering over your neck, "gonna let me fuck you pretty girl?"

"Not here, Luke," You whisper, grabbing his hand. You kiss the back of his knuckles and looks at you with such desire in his eyes it takes every ounce of self control not strip and let him fuck you in the back seat of this random car. Your eyes flick to the driver and you swallow the nervous lump in your throat, and say a prayer for forgiveness as your lips trail up his hand.

You close your lips over two of his fingers, and he groans, his head falling against your shoulder. "Gotta be quiet, baby," you murmer, squeezing his knee with one hand before closing your lips back over his fingers.

"m' quiet, m' quiet," he murmers against your neck. Then he's grinding his hips against yours, and there's a whimper caught in your throat. The car comes to a stop in front of Quinns building, and you are hopping out of the car like it's on fire and dragging Luke out behind you.

He stumbles into your back, an arm wrapping around your waist, his lips reattach to your neck, and you can't help the moan that slips out. As soon as the elevator door shuts, Luke pins you to the wall with a knee between your legs, and you drag him down for a desperate kiss.

He tastes like alcohol and cinnamon and home. And you never want to let him go. Then he's hissing with fire, a yearning, pleading fire as he grinds his hips against yours. All you want to do is let him have his way, but he's so so drunk. And no matter how many years the two of you have been dating, and how many times you've slept together, you made your decision way back at the bar that you wouldn't go further than kissing and grinding.

The elevator opens on Quinns floor, and the two of you stumble out. You pat your pockets for the keys to his apartment, and fuck- they aren't there. They must have gotten left in his car on the way to the bar.

You knock on the door nervously. One hand wrapped around Luke's waist, and the other braced against his chest. His uninjured hand is tracing up and down your side and in a way that makes it hard not to squirm as he places tender kisses along your jaw.

Quinn opens the door, looking oh so tired, a toothbrush hanging half out of his mouth. Clearly, he didn't expect you back so soon. His eyes go wide at the sight in front of him, and he resists the urge to gag, lest his toothbrush fall out of his mouth.

"Whad da fack!" He exclaims, spitting into the kitchen sink and closing the apartment door behind you. "Is he drunk?"

"Yes, just let me get him into bed, and I'll explain," you say urgently.

"Only going to bed if you're coming with me," he murmers, squeezing your hip, "need m' pretty girl."

"Do you have advil?" You ask Quinn, ignoring Luke's statement, Quinn wisely chooses not to comment as he grabs advil and a glass of water.

You deposit luke on the bed, huffing from his weight. He pulls you down with a smirk. "Wait, baby, let me get your clothes," you say quickly.

Luke wiggles his eyebrows and lets you undress him. You strip him of his jeans and t-shirt leaving him in his boxers. "Be good and drink this for me," you say, sliding the advil into his mouth.

"I'm good for you, baby," he mutters after he swallows.

"So good for me," you assured as he slipped under the blanket. As soon as his head hits the pillow, his eyes are fluttering. " 'm tir'd."

You stroke his hair back from his forehead softly. "I know, baby, I know,"

"Still want you," he pouted.

"I know, baby, and you'll have me tomorrow. It's sleep time now, ok?"

"Mm'kay," he mumbles, barely audible. You stroke his hair and mutter sweet nothings to him as he falls asleep. You change into a pair of sweats and one of Luke's devils' hoodies before shutting the bedroom door with a quiet click.

Quinn is sitting on the couch, with two mugs of steaming tea. You flop onto the couch, leaning your back against the armrest and tucking your feet under his legs. He hands you a mug of tea, and you take it gratefully, holding it close to your face and letting the steam warm you.

"So what the fuck happened?" Quinn questions.

"After you left, Luke still wasn't back and I went to find him, I don't know what really happened on his end, but he said he was sad about his wrist, and someone convinced him alchool would make it better." You sigh, taking a sip of your tea.

"Anyways, by the time I got him, he had had six shots in the span of a half hour."

Quinns eyes practically bulge out of his head. He looks like he's running calculations in his head, and his jaw drops. "I know," you grimace, "I'm sorry, I should've watched him better, I knew he wasn't happy about his wrist, and I let him -"

"How did he even get drinks?" Quinn asks, "He's not 21."

"Hush, Y/n, it's not your fault. He's a big boy he knows what he's doing." Quinn says softly, drawing you into his arms.

"Quinn, you don't feel bad either, ok?" You say softly knowing Quinn is beating himself up on the inside. He sighs, purses his lips and doesn't say anything for a long minute.

"It's Canada," you mutter like that explains everything. And to Quinn, it does explain it all.

"Fucking Canada" he mutters shaking his head.

---

Hi guys!! I was very excited while writing this, so I hope y'all like it. Comment comment comment! I love comments, I wanna hear all your thoughts! They always make my day a bit brighter.

On that note, I'm going on a bit of a writing break for a week-ish cause schools getting a bit busy with midterms and final papers and whatnot. I'll still be active, tho (unless i feel like it's distracting, then I might fall off the face of the earth for a bit).

Anyways, with that, I hope y'all have a lovely, lovely evening. Love Soph ♡

[gisellaaa]

i look at you wondering where your mind is at; you’re the first choice in my heart always

bb6 | being selected as a celebrity captain along side your brothers for the nhl all stars games was a situation you never thought of. leading up to the games, you made jack and quinn promise that brock would be the first pick. but after a small fight the morning of the games, you decide otherwise.

a/n this was fun to write and i love brock so much so if you guys want more bb6, please send some requests!! i’ll write a more smutty part two at the request of you guys :)

There were many things you loved that you had to give up due to your brother’s successful hockey careers. Your parents were already stressed out with three boys who all loved hockey, but you added stress on top of that. All your life, you never really enjoyed playing hockey. You played one year, just to prove to your mom you didn’t enjoy it. Ellen took the news with a heavy heart, but decided to give you options of what to pursue next. That’s when the entire Hughes family pinpointed your special talent. It wasn’t hockey, or volleyball, or golf even. It was singing.

After the realization, Ellen quickly found the best talent coach in Michigan for you. Moira, your singing coach, helped you develop the skills necessary for being the next big pop star. Fast forward to now, 20 years old, and you were jumping the charts. After opening on the Era’s tour for Taylor Swift, then the release of your first album Emails I Can’t Send, you were the next big thing. The media loved it all, they ate the news for breakfast.

Every single Hughes child was successful. Ellen and Jim got tons of recognition for raising successful children.

Currently, you resided in Vancouver with your older brother Quinn. Throughout the past years of living with him, you grew to adore his teammate Brock. What started as a friendship between two people who would confide in each other during tough times, blossomed into the dream healthy romantic relationship.

When you received the invitation to be a celebrity coach for the NHL All Stars game, you quickly accepted under one circumstance. That you’d coach alongside your brothers. Of course when the news was released, everyone went wild. On top of that, you got to join one of your close friends Tate as a coach. Tate had reached out one drunken night, asking for either your brother or Brock to fight Cole during a Canucks vs. Blue Jackets game. Since then, your friendship with her was as thick as thieves.

The morning of the All Stars draft had been going smoothly. You made Quinn and Jack to promise to pick Brock first, and they listened. You knew of their planning schemes with some of the other coaches, practically planning the draft before it happened.

You sat on the hotel bed, shoving cereal into your mouth. Brock was showering, getting prepared for the red carpet he had to attend before the draft. He came out, dressed in black pants and a white sweater. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, a curious look forming.

“What happened to your other outfit?” You asked, setting the cereal down on the bed side table. Brock quickly looked up at you, then looked back in the mirror. “Decided not to wear it.” Brock nonchalantly answered.

“Oh?”

“Don’t be like that, doll. It’s not anything crazy. Just figured I’d look more professional.” Brock explained, walking to sit on the bed. You scooted further away from him, a glare settling on your face. “So your first outfit wasn’t professional?” You asked, eyebrows raised.

“Why are you making it a big deal?” Brock’s voice came across aggressive, causing you to scoff. “Because it was your idea? And I was excited to see you wear it.” You stated, quickly getting off the bed.

Brock watched as you gathered your makeup bag and other things needed to get ready for the entire day. You started to head towards the door when you heard his voice again. “Where are you going?”

Your hand clasped the door handle, pulling to door open. “To my brother’s room. I don’t want to deal with you or this right now. Just know you upset me and I’m angry.” You stated, leaving the room quickly.

Quinn and Olivia’s room was a few doors down and you were convinced you’d enjoy being around them more than Brock right now. You knocked loudly, hearing some shuffling before Quinn opened the door. Before he got a chance to speak, you shoved past him, setting your things down.

“What are you doing?” Quinn asked, shutting the door behind him. “Or do I even want to know?”

“Brock made me upset and I don’t want to be around him. I figured Olivia would enjoy having a friend to get ready with.” You answered, looking around for her. The bathroom door quickly opened, Olivia standing in a robe with curlers in her hair. “Y/N!” Olivia smiled.

“Hi Olivia, Brock made me mad. Now I’m here.” You greeted her, a smile on your face. Olivia gasped, crossing her arms. “What did he do?” Olivia questioned. You glanced up at Quinn, who was definitely more curious than Olivia.

“He changed his outfit, so now he isn’t wearing his special shirt.” You stated, shrugging. Olivia’s eyes widened, a scoff falling from her lips. “You mean the shirt he paid like $80 for? The shirt that has your face on it? The one he specifically bought for this?” Questions quickly fell from Olivia’s mouth as disbelief spilled through her tone.

“I’m going to Jack’s. You guys have fun.” Quinn left the room, hearing enough from the story. “Yes that shirt! He said he wanted to be more professional.” You exclaimed, a sad look forming on your face.

“What an asshole!”

You and Olivia finished getting ready, but you had to be at the Scotia Bank Area sooner than her since you were a coach. When you arrived, you were immediately swarmed and overwhelmed by the girls wanting pictures and autographs. You tried your best to speak to everyone and at least hold a conversation with them. Your agent, Thalia, stayed close by. She ensured you were making good time. For one moment she stepped away for a phone call.

“They want you for interviews now, sweet heart.” Thalia informed, ushering you forward. You were led to a room filled with reporters, players, the other celebrity coaches and captains. Once you were spotted by Tate, she quickly ran over to you.

“Oh my gosh! You look so good.” Tate gushed, pulling you into a hug. You smiled, quickly reciprocating the gesture. “Thank you, you look great yourself.” You replied, pulling away.

“I was surprised when Brock was brought back here without you. Are you guys okay?” Tate asked, her voice quiet as reporters were currently interviewing Auston, Morgan, and Justin.

“Got in an argument this morning, so I’m not speaking to him.” You shrugged, ignoring his stares from across the room. “Guess he should be reminded that even though the draft is planned, I can still have a little fun.” You added, a devious smirk on your face.

“You are evil. I love it.” Tate giggled, pinching your shoulder softly. “Oops, gotta go, it’s my turn.” Tate waved, walking over to Cale and Nate. You moved over to your brothers and Elias.

“Pst. Can we wait till after we draft the last Goalie to pick Brock?” You whispered, the plan already forming in your head. Quinn, already knowing of the argument, rolled his eyes. “They got in an argument over his shirt.” Quinn quickly explained.

Elias had a confused look on his face, but let out a sigh. “I guess, but don’t you think that’s mean?” He asked, his eyebrows pinched together. “Mean? Sure, but I could be writing a song about him so what’s a little harmless fun?” You answered.

All four boys stared at you, then looked at each other. “If you don’t do it, I’m going to tell mom.” You spoke harshly, staring directly at your brothers. “You know how upset she gets when her brothers don’t listen to her only little princess,”

“Fine, fine. He will go after the goalies. Just don’t tell mom.” Quinn shook his head, slightly annoyed at his sister’s antics. “She’s got a point. Shouldn’t we be sticking up for our sister?” Jack agreed, gesturing towards you.

The rest of the interviews went well, except for when a reporter requested for you to do an interview with Brock. The interaction was tense, only short answers given from the both of you. You were sure the clips would quickly be on Twitter from your fan base, but oh well.

The draft started quicker than ever, the Hughes team getting the chance to pick the first player. You already told Brock that he was the intended first pick, but after deliberating with your brothers and Elias, Nikita Kucherov was going to be your first selection. You requested to be the person to announce it, just to see the look on Brock’s face.

“Team Hughes, are you ready for your first pick?” Jamie asked, looking at the group of four. Everyone nodded, agreeing on their final selection. You took a small step forward, a smile on your face as some fans cheered. “We chose Nikita Kucherov from the Tampa Bay Lightening,” You announced, eyes quickly locking to Brock.

Brock rolled his eyes, running a hand down his face. J.T. Miller nudged him, a curious look on his face. You shook Nikita’s hand, letting him go grab his jersey.

Quinn ended up picking most of his team, along with Brady Tkachuk, Jesper Bratt, and Cam Talbot. After a commercial break, the choice was back to the Hughes Team. You took a step forward, waiting for Jamie to give you the go.

“I guess, we are picking Brock Boeser. Even though he didn’t wear his shirt with my face on it, then was mean to me.” You scrunched your face, watching as Brock skated up while shaking his head.

You held your hand over your microphone as he pulled you into a hug. “You are in trouble, doll.” Brock mumbled in your ear, then promptly skated off to receive his jersey. You had a small smirk on your face, clapping as he received his jersey.

The rest of the event went smoothly, thankfully. Now you were pilled into Uber’s that were driving you to the bar that Auston Matthews rented out for the night. You were squished in between Brock and Elias, uncomfortably squirming in the seat at some of the potholes in the road.

Brock’s arm hung loosely behind your seat, his hand occasionally tugging at loose strands of your hair. To which you’d return a nudge at his side, and he would always react with a low chuckle.

“Scoot over, I know you are uncomfortable.” Brock leaned over to whisper in your ear. Jack was blasting music loudly in the Uber so it wasn’t hard for Brock’s voice to get drowned out by anyone but you.

You glared at Brock, but still scooted over to sit in his lap. “You still mad at me?” Brock continued to speak quietly, his hand squeezing at your exposed thigh.

You nodded, continuing the fun ignoring game you liked to play when you were mad. Brock hated it, despised it actually. Yet, you still did it because Brock would always find a pleasuring new way to deal with your attitude.

“Come on, don’t act like I don’t know what you did. I’m sure you loved convincing your captains to switch the draft order, all over a silly argument.” Brock spoke, tugging at another strand in your hair.

You looked at him in confusion, wondering who snitched to him. “You think Pettersson would keep it from me?” Brock now had an amused expression on his face.

Thankfully the conversation was put on pause as you arrived to the bar. Brock tapped your ass as you pushed open the door. Tonight, your plan was to continue to be angry at Brock, just to catch a reaction out of him. And boy, would it be a fun night.

[goldfades]

"i'll fill you up to the brim" and "I love the way you look when I'm inside you" with either quinn or luke

𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 | qh⁴³

♡ ─ word count | 327

♡ ─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion. p in v, mention of cum, praise

♡ ─ ev's notes | i decided to do quinn because no one has been requesting for him :( ALSOOO i didn't use the exact prompt but it's kinda like it, hope you enjoy it nonetheless lmao

"Fuck, sweetheart." Quinn's groan filled the room as he slipped into you slowly, making your entire body shake with pleasure. His voice was rough as he slowly bottomed you out, your cunt clenching around him. The stretch burned but you knew the pain would subside as you got used to his length. You moaned at the feeling of being so full, you could swore you could feel him in your guts.

Quinn's head fell back as he bottomed you out, "Shit. Gonna fill you up, huh sweetheart?"

You nodded quickly as he began to fuck into you, his hands holding down your hips so you couldn't move. As his thrusts grew deeper and faster, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The sound of your moans combined with the sloppy noises in between was music to Quinn's ears as he kept his pace fast and deep, the way you liked it.

One of Quinn's hands clasped your neck in an effort to ground himself as he rammed into your cunt roughly, he didn't wanna cum so quick. But as he felt you clench around his cock, he knew you were close too.

"Love the way you look when I'm inside you, baby. You look so fucking good." Quinn rasped as his mouth attacked your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

"So close, Quinny, so close." You whimpered out as your fingers gripped his hair roughly, your head falling back into the pillow.

"Cum for me, princess. You can do it, come on." Quinn praised as he kept thrusting in and out of you, not slowing down as he felt you clench around him.

"Fuck, I'm cumming!" You cried out loudly as you shook, letting the orgasm wash over you. Quinn was close behind you, keeping his pace quick as he felt his own orgasm coming.

"Me too, baby." He finally spilled into you, letting his cum drip outside of your cunt as he pulled out.

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