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kitkatscabinet · 2 years

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an eye for an eye, a child for a child

Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Summary: Lost to her rage and grief at the loss of her beloved Lucerys Rhaenyra orders the capture of Aemond's pregnant lady wife. Only to find that maybe the two women could come to understand each other more than she thought possible.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: idk characters and their shitty canon behaviour, birth

A/N: Blood and Cheese didn't kill Jahaerys and Rhaenyra was close with Helaena. First Aemond request baby! keep em coming. This turned into a somewhat of a feminist rant lol

Although the circumstances of your occupation on the island weren't pleasant, you could still admit to yourself that Dragonstone held a beauty you readily admired. Your husband had always described the place as incredibly droll and dreary which you could easily see. But truthfully you found it peaceful, beautiful in a way King's Landing could never be. Even if you were confined to your room with Rhaenyra your only point of contact.

Hopelessly alone, terrified of what the blacks had planned for you, you wondered if what you felt was even a fraction of Lucerys's terror when he had been forced to flee from your husband. Tears burned in the corners of your eyes as one of your hands came to rest upon your protruding belly. Lucerys had been a child, and as a soon-to-be mother yourself a large part of you couldn't begrudge Rhaenyra for taking you in an act of revenge.

The creak indicating the opening of the door to your makeshift prison interrupted your thoughts. Turning you were met with the sight of a haggard-looking Rhaenyra. Her hands were empty, causing you to tilt your head in confusion as you watched her cross the space to sit across from you.

Immediately you noticed the darkened bruise decorating her neck, a mark you had often seen left behind on Aegon's victims as they tearfully tried to scurry out of sight. You didn't speak, waiting for Rhaenyra to start, but you knew she had noticed your sympathetic look. Surprisingly, she didn't say anything, just continued to stare at you with a faraway look in her eyes.

"I know my words will offer you no comfort, but I truly am so sorry for your recent losses. I can't even imagine..." you trailed off, wincing as a sharp glare was thrown your way.

"No you cannot" Rhaenyra's voice is filled with all the fury of a mother that has just lost two children.

"I just... I wanted you to know that through all of this, that you had someone on your side" you replied, struggling to find the correct words to truly convey your meaning.

"My side? Your husband killed my son" she yelled, fists balling so tightly you worried she would draw blood.

"He didn't want to" you hoarsely whispered, "he lost control of Vhagar. He is a boy playing at a war he cannot possibly understand. It's a weak defence and doesn't nearly justify anything but... He lost himself to his rage. A rage that we all let fester for years with no consequence. So while my words mean nothing I still wanted you to know that I am sorry, that Aemond is sorry, even if his stupid Targaryen pride will never let him admit it."

"Sorry doesn't bring back my son!" Rhaenyra's chest was shaking with rage that was waylaid into tears. Slowly you raised yourself from your seat, stepping towards the mourning woman to gently bring her into your arms. To your surprise, she didn't fight your actions, instead snaking her arms around to clutch at your back as she finally allowed herself to sob.

"I never wanted any of this" she admitted against your chest, "I had hoped to find a peaceful solution, but now I fear that will be impossible." Her voice was so small, so fragile that it took you a few seconds to reconcile it with the strong woman you had admired for so long.

"We might still be able to," you said, dropping to your knees and taking her hands in your own. "I want Aegon on the throne as much as you do. Aemond doesn't want him either, and I know you and Helaena care for each other. Hells, Aegon himself doesn't want the throne" you rambled a small spark of hope filling you suddenly.

Seeing Rhaenyra begin to pull away from you, you hurried to try and rectify your position. "He tried to run away you know? Aegon. He was going to escape to Essos but Ser Criston found him first on Otto's orders. Please, reach out to Alicent, you loved her once, that must count for something!"

"How?" is all the Queen manages to choke out at your declaration, grief still colouring her features.

"Because I know Alicent still loves you, loves you the same as you loved her in your youth." Though you loved Aemond now, you had not always done so. And as such, you had spent a great amount of time with the Dowager Queen in the early months of your marriage. While all the men in your lives seemed to be blind fools, you were not.

"It was her father that poisoned her against you. A poison that festered due to her bitterness. The men in our lives could never understand how we feel, but you can. You, Alicent, me. We've all been burdened with the task of womanhood, scorned and dismissed on the whims of men."

"Then why? Why has she been so persistent in my torment, in the torment of my sons. I have sued for peace more times than I can count only to be rebuffed at every turn" she scoffed, pulling her hands from yours as she moved to pace around the small room.

"I can't speak wholly for Alicent's reasons" you admitted, taking a deep breath. "But truthfully, I think she was jealous. She never loved your father. Her father has manipulated and trampled on her for her entire life, her children all ignored by their father. She has given her whole to duty, done what was expected of her whilst you trampled all over yours. I cannot excuse all of her actions, but try to see her point of view. Try for the woman that still loves you very much."

Rhaenyra is silent for some time, but you can see your words have had an effect. When she finally does reply it is with a question that takes you by surprise.

"And you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand the question your Grace" you frowned.

"You counted yourself amongst the women scorned at the hands of men."

"I didn't always love my husband, but Aemond demanded my hand" you admit, the truth tasting incredibly sour on your tongue. "Although I love him dearly now, he sometimes makes it very hard to. I suspect you may feel the same." One of the Queen's hands reached up to absentmindedly caress the bruised skin of her neck at your words as she simply hummed in agreement.

A sigh leaves her lips as she turned to face you once more, "Daemon wanted to have Helaena's children killed. In retaliation for Lucerys," you are left reeling at the confession, bile working its way up your throat as you collapsed back into the chair.

"I wouldn't allow it, wouldn't allow sweet Helaena to undergo that sort of pain. But Daemon was persistent, so in order to save her I chose you as the target instead."

You are prevented from replying to her admission by the sudden rush of cramps in your lower belly and back, the pain drawing a gasp and catching Rhaenyra's attention. The woman was at your side immediately, eyes widened as she watched your waters break.

"Fuck!" you screamed, hunching over as a new wave of pain assaulted your body.

"Quickly" Rhaenyra called, pulling you up and supporting your weight as she led you from the room and out into the corridor. Your pained groans were quick to catch the attention of the servants and lords alike as Rhaenyra screamed for a maester.

Daemon, who had arrived to investigate the source of all the fuss was quick to stand in your way, "this is what we wanted" he hissed to his wife, glaring at you. Both you and Daemon are then taken aback by Rhaenyra's fierce reply

"No, this is what you wanted! I am the queen, and I'll have no more of your schemes now move!" There was a power in her voice that you could only admire with a gaping mouth before you were forced on the move again.

To your great surprise Rhaenyra refused to leave your side, only slipping out once when you had begged for your husband through tears.

It was nearing the end of the night, the pain had made it impossible to continue your pacing and as you lay sweating in the birthing bed there was only one though on your mind.

"Aemond. Where is Aemond?" you choked out through cries and gritted teeth, squeezing Rhaenyra's hand as another contraction rocked your body.

"He's on his way sweetling" she promised, "Jace will be leading him back very soon." You couldn't find the strength to reply, head falling back limply against the pile of pillows as you tried to tune out the pain. According to the midwife it was still not yet time to push and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold out.

So lost in the haze of pain as Rhaenyra dabbed at your forehead you didn't notice as the chamber doors were violently thrown open, your furious husband stalking in. His feet quickly came to a stop as his good eye was met with the horrific sight of your pain.

Where you hadn't noticed the interruption Rhaenyra had, and was quick to yell at her younger brother.

"My lord!" one of the maesters interjected in abject horror, "you must wait outside-" Aemond however, was having none of his nonsense and for a second Rhaenyra feared the man's mouth had just cost him his life. Another pained groan from you was his saving grace though, and in record time Aemond was at your side, taking your hand from his sisters'.

"I'm here love, I'm here" he assured, throwing a quick glare at his sister before turning back to attend to you.

"Aemond?" you opened your exhausted eyes, desperately hoping you weren't hallucinating. A sob of relief leaving you once you realised he was really in front of you.

"My lady, you must start to push" your reunion is cut short by the midwife.

"I can't" you sobbed, shaking your head in denial.

"You must!" she insisted, even as you continued to refuse.

"Please love, you must listen to the midwife" Aemond urged, wiping your hair back from your face as he squeezed your hand. Groaning you attempted to sit up, only to immediately fall back as your muscles refused to cooperate.

"Aemond I can't" you protested once more, tears blurring your vision. It is Rhaenyra that ultimately comes to your side.

"Yes you can sweet girl. You must, your Queen demands it so." Her words managed to get a slight laugh from you as you remove your hand from your husband's to clutch at hers once more. "Aemond, sit behind her and support her weight" she demanded, and to your great shock he moved to comply with a complaint.

The hours blur together as you lay with your back against your husband's sturdy chest, Rhaenyra clutching one of your hands in her own as you screamed in pain. You are sobbing and heaving but with the support of your family, you push through. And eventually, you are rewarded with a shrill cry.

Tears of relief pour from your eyes as you demand to hold your child. You hear the hitch in your husband's breath as both of you lay eyes on your child for the first time.

"A girl" you whisper, voice choking with love. Looking back at your husband you can only watch in adoration as his eye refuses to leave your little girl's face, his arms wrapping around you to stroke at the small tuft of white hair.

A silent consensus seemed to be reached for the inhabitants of the room in that moment. The war could wait, the crown could wait. For now you would simply bask in the wonder of new life.

Taglist (crosses indicate an unavailable tag): @targeryenmoony @thelittleswanao3 @thenovelcarnival @yourlittlehoe @chattylurker @etherily @psychwardsiren @mihrimahsultan03 @bbyaemond @krispold @hyperfixated-freak @eudximoniakr @deadstarkblacksoul @weepingwitchofthewest

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader

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oswildin · 13 days

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Mischief’s Daughter (Loki x Fem!Reader)

Summary: It’s Loki’s first time looking after your daughter alone.

Rating: All ages/SFW

A/N: Self-indulgent as hell. I’ve reached the age where the thought of Loki with a baby makes me all fuzzy and warm inside. A rare fem-specific reader from me. Pure fluff.

LOKI MASTERLIST

“Are you sure you can handle this?”

“Am I sure?”

“Yeah-“

“Am I sure I can handle watching our child for a few hours?”

Loki raised a brow, blinking at you as you sighed, putting a hand on your hip, holding his gaze.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You said lowly, lips quirking faintly upwards. Loki rolled his eyes slightly, casually moving to lean a hip against the kitchen counter, folding his arms over his chest.

“Darling, please, I am a God.” He smirked, that smug one he does when he allows some of his arrogance to surface. “I am very much capable of looking after our daughter whilst you go and ‘let your hair down’.” He paused, his ocean eyes flickering over your features. “Natasha is correct, you deserve to unwind a little.” He told you sincerely, knowing how hectic everything had been since the arrival of your daughter over six months ago.

“But what if something happens and I’m not here-“ You tried, brows furrowing in worry.

“I’m a God, remember?” Loki cut you off, raising a brow, shrugging. “Besides, what could possibly go wrong?”

Famous last words it seemed.

Freya had been crying for the last twenty minutes. Nothing seemed to be working. Not even a touch of illusionary magic was doing the trick. It seemed to work for the tiniest of moments, Loki letting out a breath of relief, before suddenly the wailing continued as if she was now offended by his attempt to quell her upset.

Yes, this was the first time Loki had been left alone with Freya - if you couldn’t already tell.

Children of his own was never something Loki had ever considered, but when you came along and time went on… Well, having a child seemed less like a nuisance and more like an adventure. Being on Midgard for the last five years had changed Loki. Sure, he was still very much the God of Mischief, but now, he had an air of maturity about him. Being apart of the Avengers, having somewhere he belonged… Friends… You… Of course, if you had told him this would be his situation years ago, he would’ve laughed and called you ‘absurd’. Yet, here he was.

The God of Mischief… Defeated by a baby.

“Can we not discuss this like adults?” Loki asked rhetorically, a sardonic wry edge to his voice as he bounced Freya gently in his arms, one of his large hands supporting her back. His brows were furrowed, lips parted slightly as he looked at his daughter who was insisting on wailing still. “I mean, really, I think you’re making some… excellent points-“

Another wail.

“Yes, I agree.” His hand at her back patted her lightly as he let out a deep sigh. Freya’s tiny hand found its way to his curls tucked behind his ear as she grasped it, pulling in her little rage. “Ow! No- No, we do not- There is no need for violence.” He moved towards the couch, feeling a headache begin to form. He began to feel slightly self-conscious, worried he was doing something wrong.

He’d read all the baby books possible before she was born, but it seemed even they didn’t have an answer for everything. He’d tried feeding her, rocking her, putting her down for a nap, illusions, change of nappy— Everything that could’ve been the issue. He sat on the couch, shifting Freya so she could sit on his lap, his hands still supporting her, one staying at her back whilst the other held under her small arm. He looked down at his daughter, seeing her blue eyes all glassy, cheeks red and puffy from crying. It was a sight he would’ve once found extremely… well, snotty. But with Freya, his flesh and blood, it only unsettled him, tugged at his heart.

“You certainly are your father’s daughter.” Loki mumbled to himself. “Throwing a fit of rage for reasons no one else seems to understand.” He tilted his head slightly. “Perhaps someone misses their mother, hm?” At that, Freya went silent for a moment, as if she understood. Loki raised a brow, holding his daughter’s gaze. “Oh… Is that it?” He slowly began to realise that he was likely correct. It was the first time she had been without you since she was born, and whilst people underestimated babies capabilities to understand their surroundings, he knew better.

“Well, I’m here.” Loki said lightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And I may even be considered more fun than mum.”

Another wail.

Loki winced at the sound, his smile dropping from his face. She didn’t like that notion it seemed. He glanced at the clock, it had only been an hour since you’d left - although it felt like several.

“Right.” Loki muttered under his breath, before getting up from the couch, once again holding Freya to his chest. “Let’s try something different, shall we?” His hand shifted to cradle the back of her head gently, once more bouncing her softly in a soothing motion. Clearing his throat quietly, he let out a breath before opening his mouth as a low, comforting melody fell from his lips.

“I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene,

Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem,

I eplehagen står møyen den vene,

Og synger: “når kommer du hjem?”

The last note rang out softly as Freya’s cries had ebbed, giving way to a few sniffles. Loki held his breath, waiting to see if the old song had managed to quell his daughter’s cries fully. After a few seconds of no wailing, he let out a relieved breath, feeling a warmth in his chest at the fact he had managed to comfort his daughter. After a few tries, but still. That was being a parent.

“So, it seems someone prefers my singing to my show of powers.” He mused playfully, keeping his tone soft and quiet, scared if he spoke too loud he would send Freya into another episode of tears. “You take after your mother on that one.” He smiled slightly, tilting his head to meet his daughter’s eyes. “Although, sometimes I think she prefers it when I’m completely silent.” His smile widened, seeing how Freya was now giving him her full attention. “Can’t say I blame her.” He whispered teasingly, moving to grab a nearby cloth to wipe away the remnants of tears - and snot - from Freya’s adorable little face. “There. Much better. Can’t have my princess looking like her uncle now, can we? All snotty and bubbling.” He smirked, placing the dirty cloth aside as he began to move back towards the couch. “Not very becoming of her highness.”

Freya made a soft gurgle, making Loki laugh quietly, sitting back against the couch as he kept Freya in his arms, resting against his chest so he could look at her. She was the perfect blend of both of you. His eyes, with raven tuffs of hair, your nose and mouth… She truly was a marvel. “Why don’t I tell you about the time I turned your uncle into a frog?”

—

Letting out a breath, you entered the home you shared with Loki, kicking off your shoes as you paused, listening for any sounds. Silence. Your brows furrowed, glancing at the clock on the wall in the hallway. It was around the time Freya would wake in the night and decide it was time for everyone to be awake with her… Yet, no noise. Creeping down the hall, you approached the doorway of the lounge, peering inside. There you saw it. A sight that melted your heart. Loki had his eyes closed, Freya sleeping on his chest, his hand supporting her head whilst the other held her back. The house hadn’t burnt down, there was no mess, no illusions of frogs or god knows what running about the place… Just… peace.

You felt tears well in your eyes as you leaned against the doorframe, heart feeling like it could burst out your chest. After a few seconds, Loki slowly opened an eye, instantly finding you. His brows furrowed faintly, the glow of the lamp reflected in your glassy gaze as he opened his other eye. It took a moment, but then he recognised that look.

“You had a few glasses of wine, didn’t you?” He asked playfully, voice barely above a whisper. You sniffled, straightening.

“No…” You mumbled, tone completely giving you away.

“Hm.” Loki smirked, before carefully lifting his hand from Freya’s head to not disturb her, reaching out towards you. You immediately headed towards him, taking his offered hand as his slender fingers grasped yours. “Your teary eyes tell me otherwise.” He teased softly. “You get emotional every time you have a glass or two.”

“How can I not-“ You drawled quietly, lips pouting faintly. “-when I come back to this?” You gestured loosely towards Freya, referring to the sight that was before you of the two people you loved most in the universe. “And nothing is on fire.” Loki had to hold back a chuckle at that, his lips quirking upwards.

“See? I told you I could handle it.” Loki mused, a hint of his typical smugness entering his voice as he gazed up at you. Besides, you didn’t need to know about the first hour… In the end, it all worked out perfectly and he felt a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment because of it. “Although, she is most definitely my daughter.” He added in a wry murmur, glancing back down at the bundle of sleeping joy on his chest. Your eyes followed his, your features softening even further - if that was possible. After a moment of silence, you spoke again.

“She wailed a lot didn’t she?”

“How did you-“

“Because you also wail a lot-“

“I beg your pardon? I do not ‘wail’, I… express my frustration eloquently like an adult.”

“Uh huh.”

#Loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki imagine #mcu loki #marvel x reader

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hopelessromantic5 · 8 months

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Merlin had been working for Arthur Pendragon for a year when something unusually strange happened.

This wasn’t “life-or-death-vengeful-magical-creature” strange. That happens every day.

No this oddity didn’t even involve Arthur.

The pompous prick had just left in storm of rage because Merlin was once again gone for days at a time and couldn’t give him a good enough answer as to where. Arthur knew Merlin was lying to him, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came to light, and Merlin’s life would be over.

He was still in Arthur’s chambers, in complete darkness. Body folded into a corner, with his arms wrapped around his knees that were being cradled by his chest.

He was sobbing.

Because life was so fucking unfair and he’s allowed to have a pity-party every once in a while. Merlin would say he’s entitled.

His sobs broke off into silence when a single candle lit itself, barely illuminating the room.

Merlin’s head popped up, wide eyed.

There was no one else. Just him.

And that had not been his magic.

Merlin was on his feet and ready for whatever was being hurled their way, this time.

They appeared, out of thin air.

Or she did.

A woman. With blonde hair cascading over over her thin shoulders. A deep green gown, that was beautiful but not embellished or bejeweled. And her eyes were like lakes, blue and too deep to see to the bottom.

Merlin’s breath was snatched from his throat as they stared at each other.

“Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.” She said, her voice was soft and melodic, the way Merlin imagined goddesses would speak.

“Who are you?” He whispered, before correcting. “What are you?”

“You can sense that I am not human?”

Merlin nodded, then narrowed his eyes, trying to put it together, but not quite having all the pieces.

“Every living thing gives off a vibration of sorts…a frequency… you give off nothing. As if you’re-“

“A ghost.” She smiled small but it held a secret joke that Merlin didn’t understand.

“You’re a ghost?” He questioned, further confused. “How are you here? It’s not anywhere near Samhain.”

Then the blonde woman’s eyes turned sad. And she turned to the window looking out at the lightless sky.

“There are some special cases.” She murmured. Then snapped her eyes back to him.

“But that is not why I’m here.”

Merlin’s eyebrows went up in expectation.

The woman’s expression turned to something that Merlin had only ever seen from his mother and Gaius. A sort of pity that’s shrouded in love.

She advanced on him and then settled her hands on his shoulders. Upon closer inspection, he could see the way she wasn’t completely opaque, but he felt her hands as if they were solid, flesh and bone.

“I know who you are, Emrys.”

Merlin practically hissed at the name and began to back away towards the door of the chambers.

“What are you planning to do about it? Tell the king?” Merlin was panicked now. If Uther knew then there would be no chance of saving himself. Or of saving Arthur.

“Calm yourself, dear. That is the last place I would be headed even if I did plan to tell someone.”

Merlin stopped, whispering, consciously aware of the guards that will patrol this corridor at some point soon.

“So why are you here?”

“Because, Merlin, I want to thank you. I want you to know that all that you’ve suffered, all that you’ve sacrificed, has not been in vain.”

What? How could she possibly know…

“I have been here some time, Merlin. Unseen but always watching.” She smiled again. “This was the deal I made. I gladly gave my life if they agreed to let me watch him grow.”

Time froze.

And suddenly everything clicked into place for Merlin.

He audibly gasped.

“You…” he started shaking his head as if it were a hallucination brought by bad wine or mysterious herbs. “You’re her.”

He stared back into those eyes.

Those eyes he’d come to know on a different human. Eyes he’d come to love.

“Yes. I am. And I have been here with him, watching him struggle and learn. Make mistakes.”

She clutched him again by the shoulders.

“Merlin, I want to thank you for taking care of my son.”

He was shaking his head and stuttering incoherently, almost silently, trying to find words to express everything he feels every day.

“You-I-your son is…a great man. And he’s going to be a good King. A kind, just, King.”

She smirked again at him, probably knowing more than he did about everything.

And then her smile turned soft as she replied.

“The Once and Future King.”

Merlin nodded, feeling a little giddy himself at the idea. Arthur sitting atop the throne of Albion and ruling his people in an age of peace, until he turns old and grey. Trusting the next generation to take the reins.

Merlin chuckled a little.

“The gods couldn’t have picked anyone better suited.”

“He will need you, Merlin. Especially in what’s to come. But this is nothing you are not already aware of.” She had a very soft smile, genuine, not one harsh line on her whole face. “I’ve also appeared to you now to say, I think you should be truthful with him.” Merlin’s instincts almost caused him to recoil from her again, but he stilled his body, as she continued. “I see him when you are not here, when he is alone, when he’s with his father. The way that he communicates his feelings are hurtful and he has no clue how to work through them. I am sorry that Uther raised him that way.” Merlin watched transparent tears slide down her pale face. “But you help him. He’s getting better with himself, with others. You are the light in his life, he wants to do better because of you, the way you see him.”

Merlin was crying too. He couldn’t help it.

He didn’t think anyone ever knew what really went on inside this blasted castle, but someone was here, watching him fail and try and try again and succeed sometimes, and keep Arthur and Camelot safe and happy. Someone has been rooting for him the entire time, he was never really alone.

“Hold on. Would he be able to see you?” Merlin whispered cautiously. “Do you want him to?”

“I’m afraid that it’s a little more complicated for people without magic. I was able to appear before you now, because your guard was down while you were crying. Your mental and emotional barriers were lowered and I was allowed to reveal myself. For Arthur and I to talk, I would need a lot of magic and a lot of trust.” She reminded him so much of Arthur in the way she hid her melancholy behind a dazzling smile.

“But that is not the reason I think you should tell him. He might be frustrated at first, but he will be far less angry than he was moments ago. He trusts you and he knows there is something you are not telling him. I think you would both benefit from a little honesty, him just as much as you.” She smirked at the last comment.

Merlin cannot believe that he just got talked into revealing his magic by the Queen of Camelot.

This day is so strange.

Wait-

“What does that mean? What is it that Arthur is keeping from me?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and thought. He knew almost everything about the man. He could probably paint him blindfolded at this point, with every buckle and button in perfect place. He knew his sense of humor, his daily schedule by heart, he knew everything Arthur thought about everyone, and Arthur knew the same of him…almost.

Except for that one-okay, maybe two things.

Maybe Arthur had an exception also.

“You will have to be vulnerable in order to find the answer to your question.” It almost sounds like a riddle of Kilgarah’s but the Queen’s made a lot more sense to him than the Great Dragon’s usually did.

“When he returns, avoid cornering him in the room. He does not do well with-“ the lady cut herself off for the first time, somehow even ghosts were conflicted in their thoughts. Her face hardened, “Uther used tactics like this to intimidate Arthur when he was a boy being scolded. For absolutely nothing at all. For doing things that boys should be doing!” Her voice reached its loudest volume and she stumbled farther away from him, wide-eyed.

“I am so sorry, Merlin. I have not spoken to anyone in so long. I didn’t not mean to get angry.” Tears welled in her blue, blue eyes.

Merlin could not stand it.

“There is nothing to apologize for. You have every right to be angry. I am angry. Sometimes with destiny, or dragons, or evil unknown forces lurking in the dark. But always at Uther. For treating Arthur that way, like an animal raised for slaughter. And for never realizing how much it scarred him. And for never changing, or apologizing. Never once. He is not even human anymore.”

They stood there, locked into each other, sharing in their grief, in their pain for this boy that they love more than life.

And then they heard footsteps, both parties equally startled for different reasons.

“Good luck, Merlin.” Igraine was smiling softly again, as if it had never left, maybe that is what Arthur does for her. What he does for them both. Bring the color and joy back into the world like a breath of clean air. “You will do well.” She nodded, before starting to disappear, back into the invisible ether of the castle.

Then the door swung open to reveal Arthur, looking almost apologetic, but also scanning the room before landing his eyes back on Merlin.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one. Myself.” Another lie. Shit.

This isn’t going well and he’s three words into it.

The prince opened his mouth as if to retort but Merlin stopped him confidently proclaiming,

“Arthur, I need to tell you something.” It was as though Merlin could feel a weight physically lifting off his shoulders as soon as the words left his mouth. “Quite a few things actually. I have not been honest with you. But I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.”

Arthur stood momentarily speechless, surprised at Merlin’s change of heart.

TBC…

#merthur #merlin #merlin and arthur #arthur pendragon #prince arthur #igraine #merthur fic #from the drafts #if I continue it would only be a second part

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sunfyrisms · 1 month

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i think it’s important to ask why the show deviates so heavily from the book. no, seriously, it’s important to ask why the showrunners have so elaborately deviated from the original source material. every change, every alteration, it happens for a reason.

some people, including the very writers of this show, cling onto the justification that fire and blood is a book of propaganda, and even more strangely, fans love to say house of the dragon is a true retelling of the history. which, inherently, is not correct and one of the most dumb things you can say.

the showrunners do not understand that fire and blood is a very nuanced, intricately crafted piece of work. this is a piece of fictional history that highlights that house targaryen was destined to be its own destruction. its power, its unrivaled strength, would be its downfall. part of the mystery of the book it that it is so unreliable. every narrator is saying something different. it is up to the reader to come up with their own interpretation. the dance, as i have said before, was a pointless family war that destroyed the family, the dragons, and the realm.

i understand changes will be made regardless, i do! but you have to ask why. why are these changes made? what purpose does it serve thematically? narratively?

why is alicent made rhaenyra’s age? why is she made a child bride, and humiliated at every turn? why is she so weirdly in love with rhaenyra, after everything that has happened between them? why does she sell out her children, her father, literally every single person she has ever held dear?

why is rhaenyra this stale woman? what was even the point of the last scene of the season one finale? where is her anger and her conviction? why did the showrunners choose a thin actress to play her when she, naturally, gained weight after giving birth to literally six children?

i can give a million other examples, but these ones are already jarring enough to me. where is alicent and rhaenyra’s ambition? their rage? what are the showrunners, unintentionally or intentionally, saying when they make these changes? i think it’s important that we ask ourselves these questions, is all!

#house of the dragon #anti hotd #hotd critical #anti ryan condal #astra.txt #no literally i can think of so many other examples it is not funny #fuck them LMFAOOO

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undergaunts · 3 months

Text

A Long Time Coming

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: aka three times Sebastian is a flirt, one time he gets called out on it, and one time he finally does something about it.

Rating: Teen & up (very light suggestive moment but nothing extreme)

Word count: 5.4k

Read on AO3 or below the cut <3

The Library is almost silent - unusually quiet for a Wednesday afternoon. Only the subtle sound of a ticking clock, and the occasional turn of a page breaks through the quiet. Somewhere amongst the bookshelves, Madam Scribner is ensuring the books are in the correct places, and a couple of first years had run off, upstairs undoubtedly, in an attempt to find a book that doesn’t exist, tricked by second years into believing it does.

In the centre of the room, seated at a wooden bench, heads buried in their homework, were the Slytherin trio, who these days seemed to never leave each others sides.

She’s focused on writing what seems to be a remarkably boring essay for Potions, hair tucked behind her ears as she scribbles away, quill rough against the parchment, cursive writing adorning the tanned sheet.

Ominis is tracing the shapes of words in his book with his finger, frowning every so often when he comes across something so ridiculous that he wonders if throwing it across the room would help him understand it more.

And Sebastian is - well, Sebastian has decidedly given up, doodling various patterns into the margins of his Herbology book. Only when his quill runs out of ink does he groan, rather too loudly, dropping his head onto the page in frustration.

“I’m bored,” he informs his friends, and Ominis immediately shushes him. “Sorry, but this is so boring!”

“I don’t care if you are bored,” Ominis almost hisses, his milky eyes searching in Sebastian’s direction, finger never once leaving the page of his book. “We are busy. I’m sure there’s something for you to do elsewhere.”

Sebastian has been used to Ominis’, what he would call ‘soft rage’ for a long time (he often gets angry at varying things, but he’d never do anything physical about it), but he still flinches a little, lifting his head from the book, before turning his focus to the girl next to him.

She’s still writing, evidently not as bothered by Sebastian as Ominis is. He watches her for a minute or so, marvelling at how quickly she glides the quill across the paper, brows furrowed in concentration.

“I can feel your eyes burning a hole into my skin, Sebastian,” she whispers, momentarily glancing at him, before continuing to write.

He smiles, still watching, as she finally comes to the end of the page, and, thankfully, the end of her essay.

She places the quill down, quickly scanning over the parchment for any mistakes, before pushing it to the side to dry. She lets out a long, deep breath, stretching her neck from side to side, and flexes her hands, shaking out the stress and the aches from the day.

She’s got small hands, Sebastian thinks, even Anne’s hands are bigger than hers.

“My hands aren’t small,” she frowns at him - Ominis shoots them an angered look - and Sebastian realises his thoughts were not contained in his head, but actually said out loud. He’d blame it on his tiredness from studying, but he hadn’t really been studying. He was just an idiot.

“Well,” he straightens his back, coughing a little in an attempt to cover up for the light blush covering his freckled cheeks. “I just mean…no, you do have small hands.”

She scoffs. “They’re not small. They can’t be that much smaller than yours or Ominis’.”

“Ominis’ hands are freakishly large,” Sebastian retorts. It is not entirely true - Ominis’ fingers are long and slender, making them seem a lot bigger than they are, but they’re not freakish. Just a tad strange.

Ominis rolls his eyes, then uses one of those hands to cover an ear so he can continue to read.

“Then they are not much smaller than yours.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, then a hand, palm pointing towards her. “Look. My hands are big,” he says, proudly. “Compare yours to mine.”

She lifts her hand, pressing her palm against his in a quick motion, fingers splaying to rest against his. He can feel the pink on his cheeks spreading further and deepening in colour, so he coughs again.

“Oh,” she laughs. It’s rather obvious - the size difference. Sebastian’s hands are bigger. Not hugely - not in a weird way like Ominis’! - but definitely. He could cover her hand with his, easily. Her fingers could interlock with his, rather comfortably.

“I told you, did I not?” Sebastian smiles. He’s glad he was right, and takes joy in proving her wrong - possibly for the first time.

“You did,” she sighs, dropping her hand from his. “You are correct, Sebastian Sallow. For once.”

He’s grinning, oh so proud, and she laughs at him, shaking her head. “Let me just,” he says, grabbing her wrist and pressing her hand against his again, confirming what they already knew. He’d never deny he was a gloater. “You see this, Ominis?”

Across the table, Ominis is glaring, fires almost burning through the white snow of his eyes.

“No, of course I don’t see.” Ominis responds, and this time, the entirety of Sebastian’s face turns bright red.

II.

Sebastian has been watching the door all evening. First, it was the Undercroft gate, then the Slytherin common room door, and now the Great Hall. None of the doors had opened, to reveal the girl he was waiting to see.

Damned doors, and their constant closure.

She’d been gone all day, from the very moment the sun had started to rise, til now, as it was setting. She was undoubtedly doing some good deed for someone she’d never met before, in a hamlet she’d never been to casting spells she’d hardly practised.

Curse her, and her kindness.

Sebastian had had the brilliant idea to save her a portion of the roast dinner they’d been served, but it was getting cold now, and he was getting increasingly worried as the minutes went by. Had she been eaten by an Acromantula? Kidnapped by poachers? Mauled by a pack of dark mongrels?

“I can feel your worry from over here,” Ominis says. He’s sitting across from Sebastian, putting his last pieces of potato into his mouth. “It’s souring my supper.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian responds. He’s not really sorry, but he prefers to sate Ominis’ frustration. “She’s been gone since this morning. She’s usually not gone for more than a few hours at a time.”

“But she is often gone for a long time,” Ominis places his knife and fork, parallel in the centre of his plate, before picking his napkin up to wipe his mouth. “She is the hero of Hogwarts, after all. And a rather busy hero at that.”

Almost as if to cut them off, the dirty plates and empty trays of food suddenly disappear, and then reappear, replaced by dishes of apple pie, sticky toffee pudding and custard. Most of the students hurriedly scramble for their dessert - it’s always the most popular part of the meal.

Sebastian quickly reaches for a portion of the sticky toffee pudding, which is snatched away by Imelda with a sneer. He shoots her daggers, before quickly grabbing another portion, this time successfully. He tries to grab another - to set it aside for his friend when she finally gets back - but it is taken by a third year, before he could even start to reach.

With a wave of his wand, Ominis manages to grab himself a portion of pie, before every plate of dessert has been spoken for.

Sebastian huffs, realising she now only has a cold plate of roast dinner to come back to.

If she ever does.

He returns to the previous conversation, a frown on his face.

“No, she…she should’ve been back by now, she should be-“

It is, at that moment, ironically, that the large doors to the Great Hall open, and she walks through them, perfectly alive. A little windswept, to be sure, a slight rip at the bottom of her skirt, and a tiny cut on her lower lip. But alive.

Sebastian stands up. She spots him in the crowd of people, and immediately smiles, running over to squeeze herself into the spot on the bench next to him.

He can feel his heart go from aching, to relief, to almost beating out of his chest within seconds.

“What a day!” She laughs, sighing as she sits down, Sebastian soon following her. There’s a small smile pulling at Ominis’ lips, and Sebastian allows himself to smile too.

“Sebastian was rather worried about you,” Ominis says, and in that moment, Sebastian wonders, if he leapt across the table, would his hands accurately find Ominis’ neck so he could choke him?

“Only Sebastian?” She asks, and Ominis, this time, smiles a little wider, a slight glint of white teeth showing past his lips

“I was worried too, I am not afraid to admit. But he wouldn’t stop worrying aloud,” Ominis brings a spoon of his pie to his mouth. “It was rather irritating.”

“Oh,” she laughs, side-eyeing Sebastian, who blushes (annoyingly, he’s been blushing far too much lately). He nudges her, in a ‘please-redirect-your-attention-away-from-my-red-face’ kind of way, pointing her to the dinner he’d saved her.

“It’s a bit cold but…”

“Oh marvellous!” She grins, pulling the plate toward her and grabbing a fork, which she stabs into a piece of carrot. “I’ve not eaten all day!”

In the least weird way he can possibly muster (which is still extremely weird, he must admit), he watches her eat, enjoying that she is enjoying her food, glad she is safe and sound. He sighs, softly, allowing himself to relax before taking his spoon and slowly starting to eat his dessert.

Once she finishes her food (which doesn’t take her all that long to eat, clearly hungry from an exhausting day, she takes a long drink of the glass of lemonade that had poured itself for her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

She takes a moment to breathe, pushing a piece of hair out of her face. Sebastian sees her look around a little, at the other students still picking away at their puddings.

“I did try to save you a portion,” Sebastian says, and she looks at him, shaking her head.

“It’s alright. I was very late. And some people,” she glares across the room at Leander, who has two plates of desserts in front of him, alternating bites between the two. “Always take too much.”

But he can see it in her face. She’s a little disappointed. It’s only a silly thing; a dessert, for Merlin’s sake, but he feels guilty.

So he drops his spoon, and slides the rest of his pudding to her. “Here. Have mine.”

She rolls her eyes at him, and pushes it back. “Honestly, you’ve done enough, Sebastian. I could’ve not eaten at all.”

He pushes it back to her. “Please.”

Again, she slides it. “No.”

“I’m not arguing,” Sebastian again pushes the bowl, and holds it there, picking the spoon up and offering it to her. “Just have it. It’ll make me happy.”

“Sebastian-“

“Merlin’s beard,” Ominis mutters. “Just eat the damned pudding, would you? Or I think he might explode.”

She laughs. Sebastian laughs. Ominis glares. Just the way it should be.

Thank the Gods she’s fine.

III.

The weekend Sebastian had spent in Feldcroft was lovely. Perfect, even. Spending time with Anne was rare these days, so to be with her, uninterrupted for forty-eight straight hours was joyous. He really did miss her.

Yet, returning to Hogwarts didn’t make him feel sad. He actually felt excited, for the first time in a long time, to get back. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but he just knew, as he entered the school grounds, that the butterflies in his stomach weren’t just for his return to Transfiguration class.

As he walked the school, he realised he’d missed supper, it seemed, from the hordes of students gathered throughout the corridors near the Great Hall.

Sebastian desperately tried to find a familiar face (or at least one he wanted to see - Leander and Gareth were easily seen with their red heads, but he didn’t fancy talking to Idiot One or Idiot Two).

It took a little while of searching, before he found a group gathered in a more secluded area. He noted Natsai, Poppy, Amit, Ominis, and her.

Sebastian grinned. He hadn’t noticed the smile creeping onto his face at all really. He simply let his feet do the walking, striding over to his friends, and without warning, snaking his arms around her waist and pulling her into a bear hug from behind.

“Oh!” She jumped, but laughed almost immediately, as if she knew it was him just from his touch.

Surely not.

“Hi,” Sebastian smiles, pulling her close to him, resting his chin in the dip of her shoulder, and looking at the group in front of him. “Hi guys.”

For a moment, they all look stunned. Weird, Sebastian thinks, perhaps they didn’t expect me back so soon

“Hello Sebastian,” Natty is the first to speak, breaking what was starting to feel like an awkward silence. “We had just been speaking about you.”

“Oh?” Sebastian raises an eyebrow, glancing between each persons face, all looking a different level of uncomfortable

“We were just discussing how we think you should-“ Poppy starts to say.

“We,” she chimes in, her hands tugging at Sebastian’s arm, pulling him off of her. He’d be offended, but she quickly redirects him, pulling his arm around her shoulders, and tucking him into her side. He feels her arm wrap around his waist, and decides this is possibly better. “We’re thinking you should spend more weekends in Feldcroft.”

“Ah, dying to get rid of me?”

“Always,” she smiles. Sebastian has a hard time tearing his eyes away, wondering how she often looks like she’s glowing. Like sun is emanating from her very soul. It’s addictive.

“We should probably return to our common rooms and rest for a bright and early start in the morning!” Amit chimes in, and Natty and Poppy nod, agreeing.

“Alright,” Sebastian shrugs. He notices Natty tilt her head a little, and before he knows it, his arm is being pushed away, and his side is left cold and empty.

“We’re just trying to work out a charm,” she says, stepping over to Natty. “I’ll see you two in the common room a little later?” She gestures to Sebastian and Ominis.

“Of course,” Ominis finally speaks up. The group disperses, and Sebastian finds himself having to jog to catch up to Ominis, who seems like a man on a mission to get to bed.

“Wait!” Sebastian finds himself laughing as he finally catches up to his best friend. Ominis huffs, which causes Sebastian to reach out, grabbing his arm and stopping him mid stride. “Is something wrong?”

“With me? Oh, no. But I do believe something is wrong with you, Sebastian,” Ominis shakes his head. His brows are furrowed, almost angry, yet he seems more frustrated than anything. “It is almost aggravating. I cannot understand how you are yet to see the issue at hand.”

He’s speaking in riddles, Sebastian is sure of it. The blond was always one to be mysterious, but this is taking it to whole other level.

Sebastian doesn’t respond, which, in itself, is clearly a response enough for Ominis, who turns on his heel, and with a small flick of his wand, is on his way, leaving Sebastian standing in the hallway to ponder whatever in Merlin’s name is going on

IV.

“Sebastian!”

His head whips around, trying to see who or what called his name, but there’s a few too many people outside the Bell Tower to actually see. He stands on the tips of his toes, before he finally sees the culprit - Poppy, who is heading towards him, determination on her face and…a Slytherin scarf in hand?

He frowns - his scarf is definitely back in the dorm, and it’s rare for Ominis to wear his anyway, so…

“Could you-“ Poppy starts.

“Is that-“ Sebastian questions.

“She left it in Beasts class earlier,” Poppy confirms. She’s come to a stop in front of Sebastian, and hands him the scarf, which he takes, gladly. “Could you return it to her? I’m afraid she’ll get cold without it.”

“No problem,” Sebastian nods, and Poppy smiles. She thanks him quickly, before scurrying off. Poppy was weird, always had been, really, but Sebastian guessed they were friends by association, so tried not to judge too much.

He’s left, standing there, holding a scarf. Her scarf. It’s strange, but for a moment he doesn’t know what to do. It’s like his legs won’t move, too focused on this object in his left hand.

He can’t quite understand why.

But luckily he shakes it off, and starts to head for the Slytherin common room. Poppy was right, she might get cold without her scarf. She’s got more, yes, but…well, she probably preferred this one. It’s certainly keeping his hand warm, so it probably good at keeping her warm, and…

It feels like he’s been walking for hours. He’s got a death grip on the scarf, like he couldn’t it bear the thought of dropping it. Losing it. Damaging it. He could buy her a new one if he did. But it wouldn’t be the same, would it? It wouldn’t be hers, it wouldn’t have her name written in ink on the inside, it wouldn’t smell like her…

Before he even knows it, he’s standing in his dorm room, back pressed against the door, keeping it closed. The room is empty, thank the Gods, because he’s still holding the scarf. He can see his, dangling over the end of his bed, and it might seem weird if he had two.

His breathlessness and warm face and open mouth might also be weird.

He steps away from the door, certain it’s closed, then moved toward his bed, where he sits down at the edge, eyes desperately trying to avoid the scarf, but he just can’t do it. He wets his lips, nervous, double, triple checking the room, ensuring no one is there once again.

And, finally, he lifts the scarf to his nose, and inhales deeply.

It smells just like her. Of course it does, it’s hers, but it’s unmistakably so. The scent of lavender and honey, probably from the soap she uses. A little of mallowsweet, and fresh air. It’s intoxicating, and he can’t bring himself to put it down. Even if he suffocates in the wool, it would be a wonderful way to die.

There’s a feeling, that starts in his stomach, that he’s trying so hard to ignore, but it’s getting lower and lower, and his head is spinning. He inhales again, and his eyes roll back a little. His breath hitches in his throat, and he can’t stop himself, he moves his right hand, over the side of his thigh, straight towards-

“What are you doing?”

Sebastian’s head whips round to the door, where Ominis is standing, deadly still, wand in hand, staring straight at him. Surely not? He surely can’t see, can he? No, what a ridiculous notion. He can’t see what Sebastian is doing.

Hopefully he can’t see what Sebastian is doing.

He realises he’s said nothing for an awfully long time, and stutters over his words as he tries to get a coherent sentence out.

“I-I, uh, was just,” he glances around himself, trying to find another object - anything but the scarf - to use as a distraction. His eyes settle on a spell book, he’d left next to his bed. He drops the scarf onto the bed next to him, and quickly reaches for the book. “I w-was reading! Homework, you know.”

“No,” Ominis flicks his wand, ever so slightly, the tip glowing read, as he steps over to Sebastian. “I heard you. You were…smelling something. In a very…odd fashion.”

“N-no,” Sebastian counters. “I…wasn’t.”

Great, that’ll show him!

Ominis scoffs. “What were you-“ he waves his wand again, and the scarf suddenly levitates, floating through the air and landing in Ominis’ hand. Damn him, and his stupidly intelligent wand. “Is this-“

“Ominis-“

“It’s her scarf. Was this what you were smelling? It must be.”

Sebastian shuts his mouth. The two of them are quiet for a moment. Ominis just standing there, and Sebastian sitting, feeling increasingly guilty.

“Don’t tell her.”

Ominis frowns a little. “Tell her what?”

“That I was…doing that.”

“I will not tell her,” Ominis says. Sebastian feels relief for a moment, but then Ominis speaks again. “You will.”

“What?” Sebastian squeaks. His voice has never been that high-pitched before. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t in this situation.

“Are you a fool, Sebastian Sallow?” This time, Sebastian is the one to frown. That wasn’t what he was expecting Ominis to say. Admittedly, he was expecting some extortion, maybe a promise of some kind, but not an insult. “You must be the only wizard alive unaware of your feelings for her.”

He’s suddenly taken aback. He tries to form words, but quickly gives up. His mind is racing, trying to comprehend what Ominis had just said to him.

Because, Merlin’s beard, was he right?

Surely not. She was his best friend. They had fun, broke rules together. They spent hours at Hogsmeade together. They studied together. They visited Anne together. They…they did everything together. Because he couldn’t bear not doing things together.

And of the times she wasn’t there, he just thought about her, wishing she was there. He hadn’t had a class with her since that morning, and all day he’d thought about getting back to the common room and seeing her.

Then there was the butterflies he got when he saw her. How beautiful he thought she was. How he’d often find an excuse to touch her. How he’d look for her in crowds. How he just never stopped thinking about her, because…

Because he had feelings for her.

“Merlin,” Sebastian mutters, the realisation hitting him like a tonne of bricks. It’s all he can say, because how had he not seen it sooner? It was glaringly obvious, and if Ominis was correct, was he the only one who hadn’t realised?

“It’s taken you far too long to realise,” Ominis sits down on the bed, a few inches from Sebastian, placing the scarf in between them. “We’ve been talking about this for weeks.”

“You’ve been talking about me?”

“We’ve been talking about how painfully clear your feelings are, and how idiotic that you have not said or done anything about it sooner.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

Ominis pauses, contemplating whether he should say or not. But everything is out in the open, so why not?

“The usual suspects. Myself, Poppy, Amit, Natsai,” Sebastian nods, and starts to speak, but Ominis continues. “Gareth, Leander, Imelda, I believe Everett knows as well. Possibly some others.”

“Gods,” Sebastian sighs. He’s half tempted to laugh, but he’s still too shocked. “Does she know?”

Ominis blinks. He squeezes his lips together in thought, and then nods his head. “She took some convincing - couldn’t quite believe you’d ever feel that way for her, and I’m still half-convinced she isn’t entirely sure.”

“And does she-“

“She has feelings for you too. Of course she does. Don’t continue to be foolish, Sebastian. Would she let you carry on the way you do, if she didn’t? I certainly wouldn’t.”

Sebastian laughs - a sudden, chesty laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, which in turn makes Ominis laugh - a rare sight.

“Am I truly that oblivious?” Sebastian asks through his laughter. “I mean, I’ve never felt like this before, so I just assumed it would be clear when I liked someone.”

“Not everything is clear,” Ominis reassures him, then, “But you are simply an idiot.”

The two of them laugh again. Sebastian looks at the scarf next to him, before sighing loudly.

“I’m going to have to tell her, aren’t I?”

There’s a gentle touch on his shoulder. Ominis nods (he’s not one for touching others, but he clearly feels Sebastian needs reassuring). “And sooner rather than later, hm? We’re all dying to see the two of you together.”

He’s been avoiding her, like she was the Black Death, and he curses himself for doing so. He’d managed to return her scarf (thankfully, because he was certain he’d do something he’d regret if he didn’t), but for the rest of the week that was it. He’d eaten early, returned to his dorm early, pretended to be engrossed in conversations during classes and very busy after them.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her. Quite the opposite, in fact, but he was still trying to wrap his head around the whole thing, and come up with a beautiful string of words that would explain how madly in love with her he was, and why exactly she should be with him.

And it was proving to be a lot more difficult than expected.

Ominis, may the Gods bless him, had agreed to keep their conversation a secret - at least for the time being. Sebastian was sure that the others had noticed that something was up, though, as they seemed much more concerned about him than they usually did. But he didn’t allow himself to be perceived by them for too long. He would dodge conversation, and keep to himself. Every waking moment seemed to be consumed by thinking of how exactly he would confess.

Ominis had said she felt the same, but was he sure? He’d said he was sure, yes, but was he truly sure? Sebastian was not sure, about any of it. He also wasn’t sure that sure was a real word anymore

The following Friday, he’d been invited to Hogsmeade for Butterbeers, but made a big fuss of how much homework he had to do. It was true, he did have a lot of homework, but his mind was not on that now.

Instead, taking advantage of a mostly empty common room, as most students had headed out for the evening, he sat himself in front of the fireplace, legs stretched outward, arms crossed against his chest. It would be the perfect opportunity to just think. Staring into the fire, he hoped an answer would appear. And he stared, for a long time, trying to decipher something in the flames.

“Sebastian?”

He almost jumps out of his skin, scrambling a little to sit up straighter. Because there she is, standing beside him, a gentle smile on her face.

“Hi,” he looks up at her. She looks extra pretty this evening, he thinks. Hair pulled back with just a few pieces framing her face, a gorgeous, flowing teal dress framing her figure perfectly. “I thought everyone was heading to Hogsmeade?”

“We were,” she says. She sounds sad, as she sits down on the armchair next to him. “But then Ominis said you weren’t coming, so I came back.”

There’s a flutter in his stomach, and a little voice in his head, that says see, she does like you.

But he can’t let her spoil her fun, and most definitely not for him

“Go,” he tilts his head towards the stairs. “I’m sure you can catch up with them. I’m quite alright on my own.”

He watches her glance over to the stairs, and ponder for a moment, before she shakes her head. “You’ve hardly spoken to anyone all week. I’d rather know you’re well and not moping about alone.”

“Not moping,” he chuckles. “Just…been thinking.”

She studies him for a second, then places her elbow on the arm of the chair, and rests her chin in her hand. “A knut for your thoughts?”

Sebastian turns his attention back to the fire. It eats away at the logs, just like his thoughts had been eating away at him. Ominis’ words ring in his ears: She has feelings for you too. Of course she does.

He tries to form some words. But they still evade him. Still run from his tongue and his mind, teasing him with the very possibility of being with her, yet being unable to, due to the annoying fact that he just cannot speak.

Her voice is almost a whisper, but he can see the way her face crumples a little. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“Hey, no,” he says. “I’ve just been…in my own head, that’s all. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

She nods, but looks like she doesn’t quite believe him. She joins him in looking at the fire, and they sit in silence for a few moments.

He steals a glance at her, and she looks like she wants to speak, but she’s holding back. Their silences are not often awkward, but there’s a tension in the air, and he wants to cure it, somehow.

It’s only when he decides he must say something, that she clears her throat, and stands up from her chair.

“I’ll let you get back to your thoughts,” she smiles ever-so-slightly at him. It’s half-hearted and almost makes him wince. “Good night, Sebastian.”

He’ll see her in the morning. She’ll go to bed, as will he, and he’ll see her over breakfast, or catch her in the hallway.

He’ll see her, so why do his feet carry him, following her, as if he won’t?

“Wait,” he says, only a step behind her. They’ve stopped in the middle of the common room, looking each other, her body in an awkward half-turn, from where she’d been leaving. “I think I should probably tell you my thoughts.”

She frowns. “You should?”

“Yes,” he confirms. “It’s been plaguing me all week. And I’ve been putting it off but-“ a deep breath. “I should probably get it off my chest.”

She looks beautiful in the shimmering moonlight and rippling waves of the common room. He traces her with his eyes, taking her in. If he hadn’t been certain about how he felt up, he most definitely was now.

But he had been certain. It had just taken a while for him to see it.

“Look, I,” he starts, eyes dropping to the floor. This time, without realising, he lets his heart do the talking. He doesn’t hope his brain will find the words, instead he lets all of his heart and soul spill from his mouth. “I haven’t told you the truth. Mostly because I didn’t know the truth, until quite recently, and it seems everyone but I knew. But now that I do know, and I’m entirely sure it is the truth…”

She’s frowning. So is he, a little. He’s not really making sense, so he tries again.

“All my life, I assumed love - I mean, having feelings for someone - would be obvious, glaring, and heart wrenching. I never realised it could be subtle, or slow, or easy. I also was never sure I’d actually find it. I thought I’d be waiting my whole life, if ever, to find it. It’s why I didn’t realise, for a long time, until now, that…I have feelings,” he pauses, then clarifies. “For you, I mean.”

She looks shocked. Her eyes wide, mouth open, trying to search him for some kind of proof he’s just jesting. Just toying with her emotions.

But he’s not. He’s not one to cry, but his eyes well a little. He wants to step forward, to envelop her into a hug, to hold her in his arms, finally, in the way he’s always wanted.

“Are you,” she eventually speaks. “Are you quite serious?”

He can’t help but laugh. Her brows knit together, concerned at his joking manner.

“More than serious,” he confirms. “Deadly.”

She gasps, very softly. It is her that steps forward, closing the large gap between them. Only a few inches apart. So close he could reach for her, if he wanted.

So he does.

He reaches for her hand - which are just the right size for his, as he’d previously confirmed - and brings it closer to him, squeezing it gently.

“Sebastian,” her bottom lip quivers. “I also,” she pauses, to find her words. “Feel…feelings. For you.”

Their eyes lock. He doesn’t think he’s seen eyes as pretty as hers. Merlin, he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone as pretty as her. And here she is, standing in front of him, hand in his and heart open, ready for him to take care of it.

It’s almost silent, aside from the crackle of the fire and the patter of their hearts.

Sebastian does not think he can take this longing for one more second, so does what he has always wanted to.

He kisses her, and in that moment, finds all he has ever wanted.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #Sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #ominis gaunt #hogwarts fanfiction #fanfic #hl fanfiction #sebinis

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aereasrage · 3 months

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The Favorite pt. 5

summary: a trapped damsel promised to another, kidnapped by a conniving prince. wait…why does that sound so familiar?

cw: mentions of sexual assault and kidnapping (though no one has become a victim of either), r , l & r if they slayed, NSFW, incest, oral (reader receiving) and piv while the whole red keep mad af

notes: don’t let your nephew’s murder stop you from having sex with your other nephew

word count: 3.2k

Helaena walked slowly into her mother’s bedroom, sinking to the ground with Jaehaera in her arms, silent. When prompted to speak, all she could say is: “They’ve killed my boy. I went to her room…she’s left.”

The ensuing frenzy was madness. A queen and the heirs she’d given the king had been kidnapped, moreover, Jaehaerys had been killed. There were no heirs to succeed Aegon should he fall in the war. There was an urgent scatter to find whoever had stolen the queen away but all that could be found were the murderers of Jaehaerys sent on Prince Daemon’s orders. All that they knew was that there were other about the keep that night looking for the new queen consort and that she must surely be alive as she was beloved of Prince Jacaerys, coveted of him too. And that was all Aegon needed to know to understand that his wife and children had been taken by his rivals.

That was enough in and of itself to send him into a rage. “My wife was kidnapped and where were you?” He asked of Criston, turned suspicion of everyone and everything.

When Criston had no answer, Alicent stepped in. She had been awake since the previous night, biting her nail-beds bloody as she realized her daughter’s complete disappearance from the safety of her grasp. And what was she doing? She wasn’t with her, when they came for her. She should have died trying to keep her. “If they say that she is alive, we must move most carefully to avoid her being tormented. Whatever their demands—”

“My wife is being raped by the bastard prince as we speak!” He yelled at her. “And you speak of demands! There are no demands! He wishes her to be his own!”

Alicent flinched at that. She’d held fast to the thought that her daughter would not be harmed, Rhaenyra was not cruel and Jace, though a covetous boy born of lust with more of it in his own heart, showed no love of misery or violence. She could only pray that her foolishly optimistic heart was correct and no one was hurting you. But right then, the prognosis was grim considering there were no demands offered, nothing seen or heard of you. You could have been long dead and all her hope for nothing at all. The possibilities were overwhelmingly dreadful, they forced her to quiet and let Aegon have his histrionics.

Everywhere she turned, her abject fear was ignored. She needed somewhere to confess that your absence was her penance, needed something to do which would please the seven and bring you back to her. But there was no succor to be found anywhere. She had gone into your room, even, to observe the place in which Helaena had realized your absence. Her hands had gently soothed across that dip in the sheets, her fingers collected the hairs left on your pillow. She stood there as if caught in the same trance which had gripped your sister the night you left. She found herself staring at the absence of you, for what? To punish herself perhaps and perhaps simply because a childish part of her hoped your return could be as easy as wishing.

She had to go to Helaena eventually although she had not even the strength to pretend that interacting with her while they were both…the way they were, was anything but exhausting. Helaena, her eldest daughter, reminded her of the absence of her youngest. And Alicent, no doubt, reminded the mourning mother of her missing sister who abandoned her in her greatest hour of need. What had she done that this was written into her fate irrevocably? Why did she have to lose a son and a sister all at once? Had it been because always she had taken the sweet comfort you provided for granted even knowing what the future held? She’d have given whatever she had left to make you reappear.

Alicent had come to deliver the news of the funeral procession. When she was sure Helaena had accepted the inevitability of it, she found it within her to utter one comfort. “The realm will see your sister’s absence. They will win our war and bring her back to us.”

Helaena shook her head. “She abandoned me. She- she went on dragonback to—”

“Helaena.” Alicent said sharply, grown impatient with the implications. It was a tone she hadn’t used with Helaena before and the girl flinched. “How can you slander your own sister? She wouldn’t do that. She hasn’t done that. She’d not betray us willfully. She has been kidnapped. Do you understand? You are not to speak of such…lies to anyone. She would never have left us.”

Helaena went limp, sitting ungracefully on the edge of her bed. She knew the situation only for what she saw of it. And no matter what her mother told her, all she could think of was the dream she’d relied on. She knew it to be the truth.

───── ✶

On Dragonstone, you lay with your legs slung over Jace’s shoulders and his mouth sucking at your clit. All the anxiety and fear softened down to a desire to be with him. You didn’t want to deny him anymore, you didn’t have the strength. It should have driven you apart but being separated from your mother only made you more in need of his affections. Now here he was, his sweaty skin on yours, his tongue doing things that made you think of the Sept where you conceived all your children. He’d told you it’d make all of them blessed by the seven. You weren’t sure you believed that, but it’d been hard to think with him inside you.

It was hard to think now, with the vibrations of him moaning as he sucked your clit making your hips edge off the bed. Your fingers tangled in his hair and the feel of it was heaven, a glimpse of the past. A muffled moan sounded from his lips again as you tugged at his curls. You had yet to be dressed in the hours you’d been at Dragonstone, you’d had a bath drawn for you but not the opportunity to dress because Jace was not even been willing to wait for you to step out of the tub. You hadn’t even spoken to Rhaenyra. Maybe it was better this way.

Jace slid his fingers inside you quite suddenly, causing you to gasp as he continued on undeterred, latching to your clit as though the cure for all grief lay in your cunt. You writhed beneath him, squirming until his hand ran up to your hip to still you with a grip so tight it would leave a bruise. You called his name, no longer watching your volume, letting the servants out in the hall hear you clearly. This was clearly what Jace sought to do to you on a smaller scale, to have everyone know exactly the ways in which you were his. Intimately, to the remotest detail, he believed you were his. And he’d have you every which way to prove it.

Half undressed and half humping at the bed, he listened to you intently, letting your sounds guide him. He’s quick to learn about your body, which parts of you he can suck, touch, lick to make the sounds he loves so much. You can feel his calloused fingers fondling and rubbing at your clit, gathering up the much coveted wetness to rub against you with an eagerness he’d not experienced in the days following the funeral. Even after you’d cum, it seemed he’d no intent of letting up on you.

It all still felt illicit to Jace, just like the thrill of stealing away to the sept to have you. He finally lifted his head, crawling up your body to slip inside you, returning back to where he had first found an intoxicating madness which he staked his life on. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth as his body slowly tensed with the unmitigated pleasure of your cunt. The familiar sting of him inside you is enough to overwhelm you to the point of tears. Clawing him closer to you is the best control that you can manage. Jace’s calloused fingers brushed away tears from your cheeks. He joined you in your noisiness, choking out variations of your name, fragments of possessive declarations. Where before he was eager yet languid, he was merciless then, the wooden frame of the bed shuddering beneath you as he pounded in and out unyieldingly.

He’d lost all patience and all sense it seemed. When the familiar sensation returned, making your back arch and your mind cloud over, you turned yourself over to him completely. You let your head fall back, your mouth fall open as you wept his name to his immense and immediate satisfaction. He pushed his hips tight against yours and before you could even manage to come down, he was spilling into you.

All of the comfort in the world was in that room, with Jace’s slack body laying against yours. Outside was where the storms brewed.

Eventually, when Jace left for his mother’s council, you returned to a warm bath. Afterward, you finally dressed in a gown brought by a servant, soft black fabric adorned with red embroidered dragons here and there. It gave you pause. It had been so long since you’d worn your house colors. It meant, at the moment, that you’d betrayed your family. You admired yourself in the mirror, as you settled again into dark thoughts of what might have befallen your family in your absence and what they’d think of you now. Which of your brothers had the men roaming the keep killed? And what did your family make of your absence? Did they see it as having a hand in his murder? Did they cry that you were a kinslayer? You were so desperate to know anything that had occurred outside of the castle.

You roamed the castle, searching for your children when you heard the echo of your half-sister’s commanding voice. Her words were only half clear but you thought you could make out “Jaehaerys” along with some other morbid words, some chatter about Helaena.

It clicked then. You thought back to the night you left, how the man who sent you fleeing had warned of more dangers. Someone sent to steal your brother’s life, whichever one of them, and the lives of anyone who would stop them. Your stomach sank and you stalled in your footsteps, stunned. Baela walked up to you, you hadn’t noticed her footfalls from the ringing in your ears.

“Cousin,” she greeted, reaching out for your arm, her eyes gazing at you warmly as though greeting a close friend again at a feast. “Are you alright?”

“I…do you know anything about Helaena? What has happened to her?”

Baela’s eyes flitted away just as you looked up. “…I know not, all that I know of Princess Helaena is that she remains at the red keep. More than that, you must be missing the babes. Let me bring you to your children.” She looped her arm around yours and whisked you away down the hall before you could respond. For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to question her further, the naked guilt in her avoidance frightened you. You wanted to see your children more than you wanted to know what horror befell your family this time.

The children slept soundly in their beds, still exhausted from the chaos of the night. You caressed their little faces, lingering for a moment at Viserra’s, remembering how Helaena was so fond of her since before she was even born. Helaena. You wondered how she was, what she made of your absence. If she’d ever forgive you for leaving her behind. You thought of your mother, if she was safe and well, you should have asked Baela about her but you had the sense you wouldn’t get an answer. She couldn’t be well, not when she didn’t know where you had gone and that likelihood dredged up a primordial sadness, one of having to leave her.

“You should be asleep too.” You turned to head Jace’s voice as he entered the room. “You have scarcely rested.”

You stood, coming close enough to Jace whisper without being heard by your oblivious, sleeping children. “What has happened? I heard talk of my sister and her son.”

Jace hesitated, trying to discern whether he should deceive you or tell you the truth. “Prince Daemon had asked for your brother’s head. The one who killed my brother. Faulty as a paid killer can be, the men he sent instead took the head of his son.”

You gasped, your hands over your stomach as a sudden wave of nausea hit. “And you had a part in this? You knew…”

“I only knew he sent men to the red keep for Aemond, the details remained with Daemon. I had no part in anything but your escape.” Jace reached out for you, tilting your head up so that you’d look at him as tears sprung to your eyes. His expression was resolute and sincere. “I will not apologize for wanting you at my side.”

You turned your face away from him as the tears slipped down your cheeks. “You had me abandon my sister to mourn alone. You knew this would happen.” You couldn’t keep the pathetic sadness and panic from your voice even as you tried to sound stern. You’d been astride Jace likely before Jaehaerys’ body went cold. While your sister cried for him.

“What would you have had me do? Leave you there?” He asked, incredulous. “Just how long were you intending to let Aegon believe my children were his?”

That wasn’t fair, he must have known you’d only done what you felt necessary for their safety. “It wasn’t a matter of love for him that made me act as I did. What was I to do? Leaving my mother of my own will would have been unthinkable to me and I’d still no idea of how the war would turn.” You stepped away from him, biting your nails as you looked toward the beds where your children slept. “No matter which banners raise for whoever, no matter which houses declare for whoever, all my concern was in keeping my children where they were thought on kindly, as heirs to the throne.”

“My heirs. They are thought on kindly here, unconditionally. Do you really think you can play both colors at once forever? They are only heirs in the eyes of the greens for as long as you can hide how much they look like me, don’t you realize? Everyone knows, save for Aegon. One loud allegation of bastardy from Aegon or his council and what would become of them? If your…husband was forced to open his eyes to who sired his supposed children perhaps he’d spare you somewhat but what of them? He’d want them gone. You and I know it.” His eyes were dark, full of fervent warning, turning you back toward him. “And his court is full of men who want their daughters for Queen. It would only be a matter of time before you and our children became an insult to them.”

You instantly rejected that notion mentally. Your mother would not see it happen. Aegon would never believe a rumor over you, over what he felt was your adoration of him. But still, you couldn’t deny that none of your family’s best intentions would spare you from the machinations of the men who practically ruled Aegon because they held the keys to his reign. Perhaps, in the end, you could agree logically that it was better for you to be at Dragonstone but you couldn’t get past what you’d been forced to leave behind. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not in blood.

“I’m frightened, Jace. For my mother,” You murmured, suddenly exhausted. A figurehead of this war, it was only a matter of time before something befell her like it did Helaena.

“As I am for mine,” he replied, wrapping his arms around you. “But Alicent would be no safer for you being at her side.”

Perhaps not safer but maybe more at peace. What did your mother think of you being gone? You’d taken your dragon, did she think you ran away of your own will? Maybe she believed you’d sold them out, that it was you who let in your nephew’s killers. That possibility sent a chill down your spine and you could feel bile rising in your throat at the thought of being dubbed a kinslayer. You laid your head on Jace’s chest, feeling the thump of his heart beating and taking comfort in him as you continued to dwell in thoughts of the family you left behind.

“All I wish for…is to spare you all of this,” Jace murmured into your hair.

You let his honeyed words console you. All you had to rely on was him, even as wary and distressed as you were, you could not bring yourself to mistrust him. He was…the only certain thing you had before you. Home was left behind, your family’s feelings for you in obscurity.

───── ✶

At the red keep, a hatred brewed in Aemond that could not be revoked. It had always been there, that animosity between brothers, but it had reached fever pitch when he returned to the keep to find that Jaehaerys was killed and you were stolen. Aemond felt that it was yet another curse of their birth order. Had it been you that he married, he’d have been home that night and he’d have taken off the heads of Blood and Cheese before they could harm either of you. Had it been he who was wed to you, he thought, never would Jace have had the opportunity to breathe in your direction. He was no idiot, he saw how much your children resembled the dark haired prince. But he counted it as another of Aegon’s faults for he’d been the one who allowed you to be seduced away.

He said nothing of your children's true paternity, of course, but the fact that his elder brother had wed you and had apparently neglected you so was yet another thorn in his side. He could never have broached the subject for fear of the repercussions it would bring you. Now, mourning the loss of his only son, all he could think was that if his mother had only been fair and just wed the two of you, none of it would have ever happened. All of that grief and the rage of your absence culminated in a most monstrous hate. Aegon, as he saw it, had finally robbed him of everything. You were being held at Dragonstone and subjected, no doubt, to the desires of the bastard prince. Even for knowing that Jace had fathered your children, he did not believe it was ever a wanton act on your behalf. Jace had manipulated you, who was naive and married to a whore who went to bed with you drunk and debauched. It couldn’t have been your choice to begin an affair, nor to leave your family behind. But not a single one of them could save you just yet, they’d no choice but to leave you captive for gods only knew how long. Every day of waiting for that moment brought his hatred for Aegon closer to treason.

#hotd x reader #platonic yandere #alicent hightower x reader #alicent x reader #platonic yandere x reader #jacaerys x reader #jace x reader

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sguidwards-bestfriend · 7 months

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So apparently pitchpearl is a thing, I've been on tumblr for a while and if you know any history then you understand why selfcest doesn't surprise me in the slightest

Anyway...

dpxdc Misunderstanding that becomes reality fic: 1.5k

part 1

Warning: I plan on a very melancholic ending, its a good ending but also kinda sad

...

When Danny moved to Gotham, he really had thought he wouldn't continue his hero work in this dimension.

But there was a little girl in the street that almost got hurt during a rogue attack.

But some kind of gas went off at the cafe he worked at and it's not like he really needs to breath and there were so many people.

But his University, Gotham U, was in a lock down from a random winter storm that definitely wasn't natural.

So he did what he could when he saw it and kept off of the news when he was doing class work, letting the other "vigilantes" pick up where he couldn't.

However, after a few more months of class, work, and being a vigilante (the news station that first showed him used the correct name!!), he was right back where he had been in Amity before he'd managed to close the portal.

Exhausted and failing at everything other than hero work.

The year after he had graduated high school he stayed in Amity and was able to make amends with the ghosts, being the crown prince definitely helped. He thought the ghost attacks stopping would have lessened his pa- Jack and Maddie trying to catch one. In reality they only became more and more frantic to catch the last ghost, "Mini Phantom".

Revealing he had a daughter, that that daughter was half ghost, hadn't gone well in the slightest.

The one shot Maddie managed to hit had almost destabilized her. He had grabbed her and ran into the portal. He wasn't sure how he'd done it, but in a fit of blinding rage he had destroyed both sides of the doorway to the Ghost Zone.

Frost bite had managed to get her to retract into her core. She'd need some time before she'd have a physical form again, and she'd need Danny to keep her stable for some time, but she would make it. She'd be fine in the end.

It felt weird to have two cores in his chest, but other than needing to take ecto shots it wasn't a huge change.

The last time he'd been to frostbite Ellie's core had some sort of shake to it. It could have been nothing, but a halfa was rare enough. A halfa making a never-born hadn't even been thought of. Add on, that that never-born could possibly be born a halfa was... concerning.

So here he was, in an entirely new dimension, nervously chewing on the end of his stylus, waiting to hear back from Frostbite. His study sessions lately kept being interrupted by thoughts of her. If she really was okay.

Then there was an earth shattering BOOM, that shook his entire building.

As he floated upwards and through the wall he caught a glimpse of something he had never seen before in his afterlife.

A daemon. An actual daemon with red skin and horns and a flaming tail crawling out of the ruble that used to be his front door.

Danny could sense immediately that the being wasn't from the ghost zone, but it held just as much power as one of the stronger ghost.

He transformed and landed in front of the being, "Hey! That was my front door! What gives, Rudolf?"

The daemon shook the dust off his head and looked at Phantom, then at his chest, and back at him. "I do not fight those that carry child."

"Oh... uh." He was not expecting that. "Are you okay?"

It was the daemons turn to look perplexed. "I am fighting a hellblazer, he owes me something. Refuses to pay."

"That's annoying." He looked around to see some guy in a trench coat at the end of the street. The yet to settle dust cloud making it hard to figure out any other features. "I can help if you-"

At that a massive blast of magic hit him and the daemon, sending them careening farther down the street.

Danny's vision went double and he thought he was going to throw up. All he could focus on at first was the pain as he tried to stand on wobbly legs, then it was the emptiness in his chest.

Ellie.

He closed his eyes and dropped back to the floor. He focused on her core. He found it quickly, checking it over, turning it every which way incessantly until he heard someone groan in front of him.

When he opened his eyes he was looking at two much smaller daemons, one a bright red, the other a darker wine red, sitting in a massive indent in the road. One he very luckily was on the very outskirts of.

The two immediately started to bicker, swatting at each other, but not actually fighting.

He heard footsteps on the wreckage behind him, some magic words were said and the daemons' were hand cuffed and poofed out of sight.

"Hey kid, you okay?" Trench coat asked him, not bothering to give him his hand.

"No thanks to you, you ass."

"I just saved your life." He said with a blank expression.

"The daemon wouldn't have done anything to me. Unlike you, they have a moral code."

Trench coat huffed, that seemed to ruffle his feathers. "And what would those morals be exactly?"

"They pay their debts, for one. And two, they don't magically attack people carrying children." Danny stood up and wavered. Trench coat grabbed his arm to steady him.

He stared at Danny for a few more seconds, "You're not human." It wasn't a question. He sucked in a breath, "You're not fully human."

"Ding, ding, ding." Danny tried to shake of the hellblazer's grip. "Let go of me."

"I know where to get medical attention for non humans. You need to be looked over." He said, starting the motion to make a portal.

"Nuh, uh. No. I'm fine." Danny said, patting the hand still wrapped around his arm. Trenchcoat let go and shoved him lightly, Danny felt the world twist around him as the pavement came up to meet his face.

Before he hit the ground he stopped in mid air, not by his own volition, and was gently propped back up.

"That blast spell is designed to not affect humans. You shouldn't have felt more than a breeze." Trenchcoat went back to opening up a portal, it glowed an eerie red. "Come on, well check the little one too."

Danny let himself get pulled through the red portal, it quickly closed behind them.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

His head was pounding.

"wha/t- morals- exactly?"

Talking.

"debts- two- atta/ckp/eo-ple- children."

Two voices. Two people.

"not human."

He feels empty.

"Letg/oof me."

He's hurt. His other half is hurt.

"You need to be looked over."

He opened his eyes, a man was holding his other half. His other half and his daughter.

"Nuh, uh. No. I'm fine." His other half swatted at the man.

The man pushed his other half to the ground.

He tried to reach out but his hand was barely a shimmering outline.

His other half didn't hit the ground.

There was ringing in his ears. The man would pay.

"Come on,- the little one too."

The man pulled his other half through a portal.

A sickly looking portal. A bloody color.

He floated up. Sped to the closing portal.

It closed too fast.

He wasn't fast enough.

...

It took Phantom 20 minutes to get his thoughts in order and another 10 before the ringing in his ears stopped.

He had been split in two before, but the ghost "dream catcher" the ecto-scientists made years ago had split his ghost half and his human half entirely. This was different.

He still felt a bit of his humanness. Transforming would suck though, he felt too low on ecto to do that.

His other half was in his human form when he looked. He still had Ellie nestled up against his core. But his core looked off. Although the silhouette was of a full sphere, he couldn't help shaking the thought that he saw some parts missing.

When Danny had been split before only his ghost had kept the core, it was what nearly killed them both. What made them promise to never split again.

Maybe if they both had bits of a core they'd be fine until they could reunite.

He tried to focus on his core but it made his head pound.

He'd have to hope his other half could manage as he tried to organize a rescue mission.

Although he'd managed to get a message from the Ghost Zone to Sam and Tucker, he wouldn't be able to get one dirrectly to their dimension.

He knew even trying to make a portal with his ecto as low as it was wasn't a good idea. And would be a waste of the ecto shots he had just chugged.

There was really only one hope of help he had left, one he really didn't want to ask.

A new friend he had made at the cafe.

Tim Drake-Wayne, son of Brucie Wayne. The very same Brucie Wayne that was definitely funding Batman's weird night life.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wow this got away from me, honestly was planning on like 500 words. I want to continue this, but if anyone wants to pick it up and play around please feel free to add stuff in the reblogs! I adore reading peoples additions to posts

(As always please please please help me writing tags i never knwo what to do with them, the lack of structure here compared to ao3 confuses me)

#pitch pearl #bad parents jack and maddie #dpxdc #my writing

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rnelodyy · 2 years

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The Owl House And Restorative Justice

At the end of Season 1 of The Owl House, it is revealed that Lilith, the main overarching antagonist of that season, was the one to curse her sister Eda, one of the protagonists, to win a tournament when they were teenagers. This information causes Eda to fly into a screaming rage and attack Lilith, and understandably so.

Eda’s curse is essentially a chronic illness, one that, in Eda’s own words, has ruined her life, being the reason she’s considered a social outcast and why, before meeting King and Luz, she hadn’t gotten close to anyone in years. In season 2, it’s revealed that the curse is why she pushed away her partner Raine to the point that they broke it off with her, and that during a particularly bad flareup, she accidentally maimed her own father, leaving him half blind and with permanent nerve damage to his hands, making him unable to continue working as a Palisman carver. The curse has ruled Eda’s life for decades now, so to Eda, this is the ultimate betrayal.

In the first episode of Season 2, Lilith has defected from the Emperor’s Coven, split the curse between Eda and herself to mitigate the symptoms for her sister, and has moved in with Eda at the Owl House. While Lilith herself still feels guilty and feels she has to make it up to Eda, everyone else, Eda included, has seemingly either forgiven her or chosen to look past it. Eda even makes fun of her for feeling bad about cursing her, and Lilith’s guilt is seemingly absent for the rest of the series.

The response to this was… Less than stellar, shall we say. A lot of people were angry, saying Lilith got away with her crimes without even a slap on the wrist, and that Eda’s forgiveness of her was far too sudden.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen this kind of critique. Amity spent years bullying Willow after her parents forced her to break off their friendship, and when she began trying to mend that relationship, the response from fans was that Willow should have been a lot more angry at Amity, and that they went back to being besties far too soon. I’ve even seen this criticism leveled at Hunter for the things he did while working for Belos, at Vee for impersonating Luz for months to trick her mother, and at Luz for hiding the fact that she helped Philip find the Collector from her friends. And it does seem strange for the show to keep tripping on this same point again and again.

Except, it’s not really. Because I think that, when viewing this show from a different angle, those supposed flaws are actually symptoms of something very important to understand – The Owl House operates on a system of crime and punishment that is very different from our world’s.

More specifically, our world mostly utilizes retributive justice. The world of The Owl House utilizes restorative justice.

So first, what do those terms mean? Broadly, they’re two different forms of handling interpersonal disputes, or dealing with crime.

Retributive justice is the one our current justice system uses, where the focus is primarily on punishing the perpetrator. Retributive justice can mean detention, suspension, expulsion, jail time, monetary fines, some kinds of community service, exile, or in more severe cases, corporal punishment or the death penalty. It’s the lens most people view the world through, where if someone hurts you, hurting them back is the correct response.

Restorative justice is a very different approach, where you instead focus on helping the victim recover from what happened, and rehabilitating the perpetrator to prevent this from happening again. Restorative justice can look like verbal or written apologies, monetary compensation for costs and trauma, therapy for both victim and perpetrator, education for the perpetrator, mediation between victim and perpetrator, a restraining order, etc.

When viewed through a retributive lens, The Owl House lets its characters get away with a lot of shit. Lilith cursing Eda, Hunter rounding up Palismen knowing they’ll be killed, Amity tormenting Willow for years, it’s all stuff that, in a retributive environment, they should be punished for, and they’re just not. Eda is only genuinely angry at Lilith for two scenes, Amity and Willow fix their relationship very quickly once Amity starts making amends, and Hunter isn’t punished at all.

However, I believe the story of The Owl House is best viewed not through a retributive lens, but through a restorative lens.

Let’s look at the Lilith-example again. Lilith’s offense was cursing Eda, which she did because she wanted to win a spot in the Emperor’s Coven. Knowing Eda was better than her, she cast a curse on her, thinking it would only last for a day. But when the time came, Eda forfeited the match, soon after which she transformed into the Owl Beast and was pelted with rocks until she ran. The curse turned out to be very permanent, and Lilith spent the next 20 years trying to fix her mistake by working for Belos to try to capture Eda, since he promised to heal her curse.

However, when she finally succeeded, Belos went back on his promise. Instead of healing Eda, he ordered her to be publicly executed. When Lilith protested, Belos essentially told her to shut up, that it was the Titan’s will, and left her there.

So, having realized her method of fixing her mistake has gone real bad, Lilith sneaks down to the Conformatorium to free Eda herself, but arrives too late and finds Luz instead. After a brief fight they end up teaming up, and Lilith leads Luz to the elevator, but they are captured by Belos and Lilith is thrown into the cage with Eda. There, she restores Eda’s partially petrified body, and after fleeing with her, Luz and King, uses a spell to split Eda’s curse evenly between their two bodies.

From a restorative justice point of view, Lilith has done pretty much everything she reasonably could do to fix things. She’s denounced the Emperor’s Coven, returned Owlbert to Luz, helped Luz find the elevator to the execution platform, saved Eda from petrification, apologized to Eda, and while there’s no way for her to cure Eda’s curse entirely, she took on half of the curse at great expense to her own health, in order to ease Eda’s symptoms.

Eda isn’t angry anymore because in her eyes, Lilith has already fixed things with her. Punishing her more at this point is pointless. What more could Lilith do, really? What other lessons could she learn? The only thing that punishment would bring at this point would be more suffering.

Let’s look at another example: Amity and Willow.

Amity’s offense was breaking off her friendship with Willow because she was a late-bloomer, bullying her for years, and allowing her friends to do so too. Willow is left with horrible self-esteem issues because of this, and combined with her failing grades, turned her into a horribly shy and withdrawn wallflower (no pun intended). After she’s moved to the plant track she starts actually getting better, but Amity and Boscha especially continue to torment her. While Amity’s bullying of Willow does peter out over time, Willow is clearly still extremely resentful of her. In an attempt to make Willow forget their friendship, Amity accidentally sets most of Willow’s memories on fire, leaving her confused, amnesiac, and unable to grasp basic concepts like that chairs are for sitting in.

Luz pushed Amity into fixing Willow’s brain by going into her mind together and piecing her memories back together. There, the Inner Willow revealed what happened to Luz and the audience.

At this point, Amity shows her that her parents were actually the ones who forced her to end the friendship because they didn’t think Willow was a suitably powerful or influential friend, threatening to make sure Willow would never get accepted into Hexside if Amity didn’t force her to leave. Amity then apologizes to Willow for going along with it, and for the bullying, and vows to make sure her friends never mess with Willow again.

Willow accepts her apology, but also makes it clear that, while it’s a start, she’s not yet ready to accept Amity in her life again. Restorative justice has not been fully attained, because to Willow, Amity hasn’t fixed everything – Boscha and her squad are still bullying her, and still consider Amity one of them. This changes two episodes later, when Amity tells Boscha to grow the fuck up when she starts bullying Willow again, and joins her and Luz’s Grudgby team despite her personal issues to get Boscha to back off. Willow doesn’t make a grand gesture of forgiveness in this episode, but it is after this point where the two become comfortable around eachother again.

Did Willow forgive Amity too quickly for years of trauma? Maybe. If she had chosen to continue keeping Amity at a distance I certainly wouldn’t have blamed her. But in the end, Amity fixed the mess she caused as best she could, and has proven herself to want to be a better person, to want to be Willow’s friend again. She worked hard to prove herself to be a person worth trusting, and Willow decided to give that trust a chance again.

And while they did become friends again, that friendship was clearly still affected by what happened, which led to bumps that the two of them had to work through. Like in Labyrinth Runners, where Amity’s overprotectiveness over Willow makes Willow feel like Amity thinks she’s incompetent, and still only sees her as the helpless person she used to be.

Willow continuing to be mad at Amity and punishing her for what she did wouldn’t be an unreasonable reaction, but it wouldn’t have fixed anything. It would certainly have an impact on Amity, seeing her former best friend rejecting her attempts to make up for what she did, but the hurt on both sides would have continued festering, because deep down, Willow missed Amity too.

In Hunter’s case, there’s the question of whether he can even be held responsible for his actions. The Palisman-kidnapping in specific was explicitly done under duress – if he failed he would face verbal and physical abuse, and be threatened with his nightmare scenario: getting thrown out of the Emperor’s Coven.

And that’s not an empty threat either. Hunter has no magic, and Belos has drilled it into him that witches without magic have no future. Without the Emperor’s Coven, his only future prospects would be starving to death on the streets or wasting away in prison. Either way, Hunter would be alone, without family or friends, without a job or job prospects, without anyone to turn to for help. Any child would be terrified of that. Hunter wasn’t always acting on direct orders – in fact he defied direct orders to stay in his room in Eclipse Lake to go look for Titan’s Blood, and then again in Hollow Mind to arrest the rebels. But he made those choices based on the idea that Belos wouldn’t want him if he was a failure, and that he needed a chance to prove that he could still be useful.

And contrary to popular belief, Hunter does know right from wrong. He has a very strong moral compass, he’s just been forced to ignore it in favor of doing whatever the Emperor wants. To shut up that little voice telling him he’s doing the wrong thing, he uses what’s called a thought-terminating cliche, a statement that feels so fundamentally true that the argument need not continue. In Hunter’s case, that statement is “It’s for the greater good.” Sure, kidnapping his new friends and abducting Palismen to feed to the Emperor and threatening someone who’s been nothing but kind to him to take the portal key from her girlfriend and justifying terrorism makes his stomach feel like he swallowed a cactus and saying it out loud makes him sound like a horrible person – but it’s for the greater good. He’s doing it to serve Belos, and Belos knows what’s best.

So by the time Hunter is out of active danger and able to rest and recover from what happened to him… what would further punishment accomplish? He already knows that he did fucked up shit while working for the EC, and he’s proven time and time again that while he’s not fighting for Belos’s approval, he’s actually a genuinely kind-hearted kid. Punishing him now would likely cause him to react very poorly, because he’s been at the wrong end of that stick so often that he’s developed severe PTSD because of it.

And if you think restorative justice is still in order – Hunter is currently hyperfixated on making sure Belos can never hurt anyone again, and for the long term, he has expressed that he wants to become a Palisman carver when he grows up. While it won’t bring back the Palismen that were killed, it will help the current Palisman population recover and reintroduce Palismen to witches who may have had to give up theirs.

When viewed through this lens, the writing of The Owl House starts to make more sense. As a show, it is extremely forgiving towards its characters – they’re still held accountable for their actions, but as long as they’re willing to grow and learn and fix the damage they caused, they are very quickly forgiven.

However, I do understand why these writing choices can be… controversial, so to say. Because it doesn’t feel very satisfying, does it? When someone hurts you on purpose, your first impulse would be to try to hurt them back, that’s just how people work.

That’s the hardest thing to come to terms with when you become an advocate for prison abolition for example – you’re not just arguing for freeing a guy who got 5 years because a cop found weed in his pockets, you’re arguing for the release, and most importantly, the humanity of some of the most vile, disgusting people this planet has ever produced. Even now, when someone commits a truly awful crime and gets sent to prison for life, my first thought is “Good, I hope they rot in there.” But that’s not justice. That’s just revenge. And revenge is not something we as a society should want to build our justice system on.

It’s not satisfying to see Lilith go from using Luz as a human shield in her fight against Eda to sleeping on the couch in Eda’s house within 2 episodes. It’s not satisfying to see Willow let Amity back into her life when Amity has hurt her so badly before, or to see Hunter become romantically involved with Willow after he literally abducted her the first time they met. But that satisfaction isn’t really the point. Revenge is satisfying in the moment, but an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, and if someone shows a genuine willingness to change, it’s often better to give them a chance to.

However, my final point is about what happens when this approach fails. Because not everyone is willing to change. Some people, when faced with the consequences of their actions, decide to dig their heels in and refuse to admit fault, or blame the victim(s), or use those same thought-terminating cliches that Hunter used to justify their actions, “I was just following orders” being a big one.

And thus, we come to Belos.

If Belos showed a willingness to change, a genuine one, not an attempt at manipulation, should he be given the chance to? That vengeful part of me is VERY empathetically saying no. But logically, reasonably, he should be given that chance, if only because he’s a human being and no human being deserves to be mistreated. That doesn’t mean his victims are obligated to forgive him or be around him again, in fact I think that, for the sake of Hunter’s mental health, Belos should stay as far away from him as humanly possible. But he should be given the chance to start over, to truly better himself and do something good with the rest of his life.

But Belos isn’t willing to change.

Belos is a product of a bad environment and grew up with a cult-like mentality and hatred for witches that he had to adopt for his own safety. It’s hard to break out of that mentality, but not impossible. Case in point: Caleb. The tragedy of Belos’s character to me is that he had so many chances to change, so many people to help him make that leap, but all of the people who offered him that help ended up dead by his hands because he couldn’t handle the idea that he may have been wrong.

At this point, Belos is stuck. Changing would mean not only giving up on his life’s work, but acknowledging to himself that everything he’s done, mutilating his body, killing his brother, slaughtering thousands and installing himself as God-Emperor of a population he despises more than anything in order to facilitate a genocide, was completely pointless.

He can’t admit that to himself. Especially the thing about Caleb’s death. He’s sunk-cost-fallacied himself so far into a corner that all he can really do when faced with opposing viewpoints is dig his heels in even deeper and lash out in a rage at anyone who challenges him. Even now, when his body is literally falling apart at the seams, he’s still trying to commit witch-genocide, because it’s all he has.

Restorative justice doesn’t work in this case, because the perpetrator needs to be receptive to it. Logically you would assume the show would default to retributive justice, and characters like Willow and Camila do take a very vengeful glee in imagining themselves beating the snot out of Belos. But right now, the primary motivation of the Hexsquad and Hunter in particular when it comes to Belos is to end the threat he poses. As long as Belos is alive and free, he will continue to hurt and kill people, and if he can’t be talked down, he needs to be either contained or killed to prevent him from causing more harm.

The Owl House provides, in my opinion, a very nuanced take on restorative justice. It shows how it works in action, how different situations impact what it looks like, and what happens when it’s simply not an option. It’s not the most satisfying story to tell your audience, because when someone hurts our babies we want them to suffer, no matter how sorry they say they are. But in this case, I think that sacrificing that bit of audience comfort is worth it to tell the story like this.

#the owl house #the owl house meta #toh meta #toh lilith #toh amity #toh hunter #toh belos

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sonolynn · 2 months

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What the Fates Allow-C1

summary | You were used to your routine. Tending to drunk men and then the drunken prince, but what happens when he comes to you with an offer.

pairing | Aegon Targaryen x Bastard!Reader

tags | mentions of overconsumption, drunkenness, talks of "whores", not proof read

w.c | 2.0 k

note(s) | I don't think I've mentioned this, but I'm definitely making this out of cannon.

____________________________________________

You stood aimlessly behind the bar, humming softly to yourself as you cleaned the dirty pints in front of you. This was how you spent most of your mornings; cleaning the dirty cups, trays, tables, pints etc etc, only to fill them up later and throw them in the hands of extremely intoxicated men. But, every night came with the same routine.

Drunk men.

Filling and empty pints.

Cleaning tables.

Aegon.

That was the order in which your night always seemed to go. And you always looked forward to when the drunken prince would stumble his way into the brothel and make his way over to her. There were times when Aegon would find himself in the bed of one of the ladies, but he would always make a point to walk his way over to the bar, sit down, and have a “pint”.

In truth the pint was just water, because you did not wish for him to get sick.

And, in truth, Aegon knew this, but he indulged you nonetheless.

“A moment of your time?” Aegon asked softly, a goofy smile on his face as he slid two dragon coins over to you. You rolled your eyes, accepting the coins.

“And what would you like to discuss today, my prince?” You smiled at him, leaning over the edge of the bar, tilting your head slightly in Aegon’s direction. You had always found him captivating. The premise of how someone could look like they washed their hair in straight olive oil and yet look devilishly handsome always made the gears turn inside of your head.

“Well…My mother is a raging cunt,” Aegon frowned gently, shrugging as he reached over the bar and grabbed himself a full pint, “and she seems to not like it when I have fun.”

“You do spend half of the Targaryen wealth on this particular brothel, my prince.” You smiled softly as he drank the pint, knowing you were in for a long night.

“I do not understand her. She says I ought to be in the library. Studying.” At his words, your eyebrows furrowed. Aegon? With his head inside of some books? That was like asking him to stay sober for more than three hours at a time.

“For what exactly?”

“That,” Aegon said while pointing his pint straight at you, “Is exactly what I said. She wants me to study, and yet she will not tell me why. She wants me in the training yard for a war that has not happened in a decade, she wants this, she wants that! It is sickening how much she expects of me, really.” You listened carefully as Aegon spoke. It was often that he would come in and spew his disheartening thoughts about his mother. You had grown to expect it honestly; if it was a day in which Aegon did not come in and rant about his mother, then perhaps it was a good day.

“She is your mother, my prince-”

“Aegon.” He corrected. He had a habit of doing such-correcting you in the middle of your thoughts.

“Aegon,” You spoke teasingly, before bending down and grabbing a dirty tray. “And you are her firstborn. Such things are natural for a mother.”

“And you would know?” Aegon spoke with annoyance, but his face softened slightly as he realized what he said. “Fuck. I’m sorry I-”

“I’m not offended, Aegon. You are right; I do not know what it is like to have a real mother,” You leaned forward, your eyes gazing into his own as you smiled softly. “But what is common knowledge is the fact that mother’s only wish the best for their children. Hence, perhaps, why she has such high standards for you.”

Aegon went silent at that. He didn’t wish to correct you. You did not know Alicent like he did, obviously; She was his mother, and he lived with her. Yet, it never felt like she had his best in mind. More so, he thought quietly to himself whenever you would say such things, or when his mother would berate him, that she only had survival on her mind; Only thinking of her best, no one else's.

“Sometimes, I think these standards are too high.”

“What if you are just not reaching far enough?”

“Everytime I try to grab at or even meet her standards it is like she raises them!” Aegon angrily slams his drink on the table, his face now slightly flushed. “She does not let me get to these standards of hers. And I do not think I ever will.” His voice faltered, and when you looked up, you noticed the glossy nature of his eyes. You frowned softly and you placed your hand over his, a comforting gesture that wasn’t remotely comforting in a situation like this.

“Aegon-” “Dont.” He spoke more harshly than he meant to, but you didn’t take offense. You never did.

“I did not mean to hurt you.” You spoke softly, as if a slight infliction or raise in your tone would set the gates flooding open.

“You didn’t. You never do.”

___________________________________________

Aegon sat in his chambers later that evening, his mind reeling with the words you had spoken. He thought to himself over and over again about the way your words felt.

“What if you are just not reaching far enough?”

In truth the words stung, they hurt like hell and even though he knew them to be true, he never once thought that they would come from you.

As he sat, and pondered, he made a silent promise to himself.

He would make everyone around him proud. He would reach as far as he could, strive to be the best. If at all to make you recant your words. Or, he would give up entirely, perhaps run away and sail as far as he could.

In Aegon’s mind, he seemed to enjoy the latter. The idea of running away and starting a new life with a new name in a new place was seducing beyond comprehension. But, how would he do it?

___________________________________________

Eat, clean, wash, repeat. You told yourself. You were ready for another boring, dull day. One just like the others, and only continuing the next day. As you were cleaning, Aegon walked in, a set determination on his features. You had never seen him look so determined in the multitude of years that you had been by his side. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you opened your mouth to speak but Aegon shook his head.

“I have a proposition for you.” He spoke hurriedly. That's when you noticed his attire. The hood around his face, and the shitty clothes that he wore. You had never seen Aegon so dressed down, and never had you expected to see it.

“A proposition?” You spoke softly, cleaning the mug carefully as you eyed him. His determined face didn’t falter, and before you knew it, Aegon grabbed your hand, and dragged you towards an empty room. Once inside the room you stumbled back, giving him a look.

“Aegon what is this about? You cannot just drag me away from-” “Run away with me.” He spoke hurriedly, like time was chasing him, which, in truth, it very well could be. You stared at him for a while, your mind refusing to actually comprehend the fact that a Taragryen Prince just asked you, a barmaid, to run away with him.

“You jest-”

“Maybe before but not now.” Aegon walked closer to you, gently taking your arms in his calloused hands as he stared you down. “What you said yesterday made me realize that I would never be enough. Not for my father, nor my mother, nor anyone. But you..” He trailed off, staring into your eyes. His heart skipped a beat, at least he thought. He did not know truly.

“But me..?” The words that came from Aegon’s lips confused you like none other. He had many drunken rants before, but this, even though a “sober” thought, was hard for your mind to comprehend.

“You think me better than what I was made for.” His voice dropped, and he placed his hands on your face, cupping your jaw with the utmost tenderness. “You are my one true friend.”

“I do not see how this correlates-”

“It does! I swear to you it does.” His voice dropped, a pleading and pathetic sound. You didn’t seem convinced.

“Aegon you’re drunk-” You moved to get away from him, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him.

“Not this time.” He spoke, his eyes piercing into yours. “You’ve always said your life, as it is now, is just as strenuous as it is boring. It needn't be! Not anymore!” “Aegon, this is ridiculous! You speak nonsense-”

“I have enough money to pay for a ship, or-or a carte ride! One that will take us as far as Winterfell or as far as Dorne.” “The..North? Dorne? Aegon this is madness! You speak of giving up your luxuries, your pleasures-”

“Pleasures and luxuries be damned, I wish to be free!” He raised his voice slightly, but only a bit. He whispered your name, his eyes softening and his hands itching to touch you. “Free, y/n. Just as you do! If we run away we would never need to know boredom again.”

You listened to his words, because oh did they sound tempting. Running away with your one friend to a new land and masking new identities. It was thrilling, and it was risky beyond comprehension but you couldn’t shake the feeling of excitement that laced through your veins with every word that he spoke. But, even with the excitement came logical reasoning.

“Money and coin do not last forever, Aegon.” “ I am a prince. I can get us enough coin to be comfortable for the first couple months. Then, well, then we may work, and trade, just as the common folk do.”

“You? Work? That is more unbelievable than the notion of running away.”

“Do not jest with me! Now is not the time for you to jest!” He stared at you, watching you as you mentally went through all the downsides and upsides to running away with him. But, the longer you took the more restless he got. “I am leaving tonight, late in the evening around the twenty-third hour. I will be waiting at the docks. If you come you come, but if you don’t, we will never see each other again.”

And with that, Aegon gave you one more look over before he rushed himself away, clear on his intentions.

You stood, absolutely shocked. How dare he? He comes to you whilst you are working and demands that you make a decision in less than a mere few hours? This was a life altering decision, one that very well could get you killed if you were found.

Maybe it was the adrenaline of getting caught, or the idea of living a life of comfort with your dear friend. Perhaps the latter, perhaps both. But which ever it was, caused you to start packing your bag, taking a few changes of clothes and a necklace, the nicest thing you owned.

You gave yourself a once over as you threw the hood over your head, staring at the mark on your chin. You ran your finger over it for a moment before you turned, grabbed your bag and left your brothel room for the final time.

___________________________________________

Aegon stood at the dock, placing two gold coins in the crewmate's palm. The crewmate bowed, a small “thank you, my prince”, before he rushed off. The hour was almost at the twenty fourth, and with a reluctant sigh Aegon tried to mentally prepare himself for the trip alone. But, then he heard your voice. He immediately turned, smiling widely as he saw you.

You ran up the dock, panting softly as you stood in front of him.

“I cannot possibly let you drink yourself to death. At least, not alone.”

___________________________________________

AHHHH I have so many fun ideas for this now 🤭

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #house of the dragon #aegon x reader #king aegon #hotd aegon #aegon fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd s2 #hotd x reader #aegon x you #what the fates allow #sonolynn

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saiscribbles · 4 months

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Lily is correct. She doesn't make rage bait. You'd have to be at least a little clever and actually plan out your video scripts to do that.

Lily's opinions are just so off-base, so deranged, so childish, so wrapped up in her own personal bullshit and delivered in that smug ass Ben Shapiro "I'm so right and smart and logical" style that it just stabs painfully into the brain of anyone with sense who hears them.

And aside from this strange deficiency she has when it comes to understanding narrative, she doesn't seem to fully watch or play anything she ever talks about!

Utena? Clearly didn't see it. She didn't even know the name of the villain. If she had watched it she'd have been screaming about the tone and either praising or deflecting on the three sibling relationships of varying degrees of incestuous in it.

Steven Universe? I doubt she's rewatched it since it aired. She constantly gets things wrong or is surprised by things that are in episodes. And the movie? I doubt she watched it beyond just a few clips. She went by a bunch of edgy Reddit fan theories, didn't know what any of the songs were actually about, and then kept disgustingly saying reset Pearl being a Pearl to Greg was gay conversion therapy and cut out Opal's entire existence to maintain that narrative.

Even Kingdom Hearts? Well mah boi Crim from my supporter Discord went over that one. Lily, supposed big mega fan of KH, tells you to just skip a bunch of the games. We now wonder if she's actually played them or only watched cutscenes.

youtube

#Lily Orchard #Lily Posting #I'm gonna post art soon I swear guys #Youtube

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coco-loco-nut · 3 months

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How Did It End?

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: charles can’t shake the reputation of not being able to hold a relationship

masterlist ttpd masterlist

—————————

Sure, Charles dated around, but he was in his 20s, and it wasn’t like those relationships were super short. He thought the reputation assigned to him was unfair. So when he met you, he thought things would be different. How did things die so quickly?

He was used to the scrutiny at that point, so he did his best to protect you, like you were a flower that he needed to take care of. Maybe that’s what let a disease sink in.

“Charlie, we can’t hide. I don’t care what people say, I want everyone to know how much I adore my boyfriend,” you begged.

“Mon amour, they are ruthless. I don’t want you getting attacked because you are with me,” Charles frets.

“Charles, I can’t keep hiding,” you say, moving away from his touch as he reaches for you.

That became more and more frequent. Charles wasn’t wrong, the attention you got from the media was overbearing at times, but you were happy to be with him.

Charles could tell you were subconsciously pulling away. You shared love language is touch, and it was less and less frequent. It started to feel foreign rather than comforting.

That’s not to say that it was all bad. You and Charles truly believed that you were it for each other and this was just a low spot to work through. You were blind to what was to come.

The downfall really happened during a post-race party. You and Charles had been separated from each other, and people decided that that was the correct time to plant seeds of doubt in both your minds.

“God, Pierre. I don’t know what to do. She deserves better than me, I think things are ending,” Charles says on the phone with his childhood best friend, running a hand through his hair. Little did he know that you were having the same conversation with some of your friends, asking for advice.

“I think it’s time to call it off,” you and Charles get the same reply. As much as neither of you wanted to, the seeds had been planted, and that comment was like a good rain that helps it grow.

Not even a week later, you are moving your things out of Charles’ apartment and back to your apartment in London. You thought you had some peace and quiet at the start of your separation, but then the gossip pages got pictures of you and Charles. You were out shopping, feeling absolutely lost without him, you didn’t even realize that

Charles could hear the hungry voices around him, vultures waiting for the next bit of gossip. Former friends sending him pictures of you shopping and looking miserable, people whispering around him when walking around Monaco. It was all too much, and it was always the same question.

“How did it end?” like his life was a circus, and he was reaching his breaking point. The more he is asked that question, the more he can’t hold onto his PR filter.

“I can’t pretend like I understand how it ended. She was my everything, we had dreams together. It feels like her ghost and I are sitting in a tree, like that nursery rhyme. D-y-i-n-g,” Charles rants to Max, one of the few people to not offer the fake sympathy.

Charles was miserable attending Silverstone. Knowing you were so close but so far, it was torture. He just wanted to hold you in his arms, show you off to the paddock.

“Mate, he looks awful. What happened, where’s Y/n?” Lando asks Carlos, observing the Monégasque driver.

“Didn’t you hear? They called it all off,” Carlos says as Lando’s head whips over to look at Carlos in shock.

“How did it end?” Lando asks. Charles wants to rage at everyone and everything. It’s never asking how he is doing, only how it ended.

“I don’t know,” Carlos shrugs.

Charles knows how it goes, if he tells someone what happened, they will promise to keep it to themselves but end up telling all of their friends. It’s a spectacle, every time a failed relationship of his makes light.

You show up to the race in disguise, having been dragged out of your apartment by your friends.

“He looks miserable,” you say, watching Charles on the screens. It’s not too noticeable to anyone who doesn’t know him well.

“The same as you. Maybe you should reach out,” one of your friends suggests as you stand at the front of the barriers for the Ferrari fan zone.

“I, I shouldn’t. We broke up for a reason,” you tell her, not noticing Charles’ gaze on you.

“Maybe so, but it seems like you two need to talk,” she says and you look up at Charles who holds your gaze for a second.

“Maybe,” you can’t help the slight blush that appears on your cheeks. After the event, you see a text from him in your messages. You never blocked Charles’ number, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

You meet Charles at a park nearby, and it’s starting to feel like a bad idea.

“I’m sorry for all the media attention that came with the breakup,” Charles starts and you feel anger flare up.

“That’s what you are sorry for?”

“No! Well, yes, but I’m also sorry that I never publicly showed you off. All I could think about the past few weeks is how much I wanted you by my side. I love you, you are different than anyone I’ve dated before,” Charles corrects himself.

“Charles, don’t say that. Of course, I love you too, but I know how this goes. You will try and change, and things will be okay for a little, but then they will revert to how they were,” you sit on the bench nearby.

“No, they won’t,” he rebuts, but you don’t believe it.

“I hate seeing you miserable, but I can’t be in a relationship that makes me miserable in the long run,” you say, grabbing his hand.

“Y/n,” he trails off, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t opt in to be your odd man out, Charlie. I was going down with the ship. You said you loved me but where were the clues? You never showed me off, I was stuck at home while you were out,” you go on a slight tangent.

“I never meant to cage you, I just wanted to keep you safe. I realize how wrong that was, now. I put the weight of the relationship on you, I’m so sorry,” Charles begins to realize you won’t budge, that you need to protect yourself.

“I’m just getting color back into my face, and you will too. You and I will find someone who meets our needs, and this will be just a small blip in your life,” you smile ruefully, removing your hand from his.

“I’m not the one,” Charles exhales, and you shake your head. You know what’s bothering him and why he’s fighting for you now.

“Ignore them. Those who truly know you don’t believe the reputation the media has spun of you. I’ll be cheering for you, Charlie. Maybe we can be friends one day,” you stand up, taking in the sight of him one last time. Charles watches as you walk away.

Neither of you saw the camera trained on you, but Charles took your advice. When the photo was published with the caption “how did it end?”, he ignored it. And when he finally met the one, he realized you were right once again.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #the tortured poets department #formula one x reader #formula one imagine

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velocesainz · 10 months

Text

You're mine

(LN04)

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist | Taglist

Summary: Lando joins you in the motogp paddock to support you but overhears some of the other drivers talking about wanting you to ditch Lando for them. What is his reaction?

Warnings: smut, degradation, minors dni

Pairing: Lando x motogp!racer!reader

Lando POV:

I walked into the moto gp paddock in Valencia. Since us, f1 drivers, had winter break I decided to join my girlfriend y/n to support her.

"Lando I have to go for the PR meeting, shouldn't take more than an hour. You can hang around the paddock and explore if you want" y/n told me awaiting an answer.

"Yea of course, I know how to take care of myself you know" I replied slightly amused by how worried she was to leave me alone.

"That's debatable but anyways, see you later babe" y/n said and skipped away.

Damn. I really love her.

I was walking around the paddock when I stumbled outside the Ducati hospitality noticing y/n's friends, Augusto and Fabio, why not say hi?

As I got closer I guess they didn't notice me, they seemed too engrossed in their own conversation.

When I got to hearing distance I caught a glimpse of what they were talking about.

"I know right she's so hot! I wonder why she's single" I heard Fabio say.

Who were they talking about?

"Y/n's not single dipshit, she's with that landi, landa- whatever his name is" Augusto corrected.

"I honestly don't understand what she sees in him. He sounds like a chipmunk and looks like a kid trying to look cool growing a goatee. Look at us! We're literally like god's compared to him" Fabio laughed.

"Honestly though, she's the hottest girl I've seen in my life, and on top of that she races in motogp? Oh! she has my heart. I bet I could satisfy her needs much better than he could. I bet he's like 3" Augusto adding smiling.

"You know, seeing her winning and smiling around the paddock I just want to grab her and just take her right then and there. She's just so irresistible. Did you see her Calvin Klein shoot? I swear I use some of those photos to masturbate" Fabio replied.

"Such a pity. She is so fucking beautiful. Maybe in the future we can share her after stealing her from that dumb spoiled brat boyfriend of hers. Really wish we could stop pretending to not want her every second" Augusto laughed, Fabio laughing with him.

I had heard enough. How could they say that? I thought they were supportive of our relationship. I thought they respected y/n.

I guess not. They clearly wanted her for themselves, they were so disrespectful. How could they say such vile things about their fellow driver?

I left the Ducati hospitality walking back to the Yamaha hospitality to wait for y/n to get back, but in complete fury.

Y/n POV:

I got back from the PR meeting and the rest of my media duties for today were finally done.

I can now spend time with Lando. Poor thing must've waited so long.

I made my way back to the hospitality to find my boyfriend sitting on a chair with his head in his hands. That's odd.

"Hey babe, you ok?" I asked cautiously, maybe he was sleeping? Lando is known after all to sleep in the most random places in the most random positions.

He looked up at me and I saw an almost unrecognisable emotion. Anger, rage mixed with lust?

He grabbed my hand harshly and took me straight to my driver's room.

I saw Fabio and Augusto right next to my room as they were chatting, I waved at them and they waved back giving me a weird look.

Lando threw me into the room and closed the door locking it in the process.

"What is wrong with you Lando?" I asked confused, what had gotten into him all of a sudden?

"Take your clothes off. Right now." He demanded in a cold tone. That was really hot but I wanted to find out what was wrong with him.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong" I said adamant.

"God you're so stubborn. I guess I'll have to do it myself then." He said as he came closer and pinned me to the wall.

He roughly started taking my clothes off "You wanna know what happened? Your so called "friends" who are standing outside this room, were saying absolutely disgusting things about you like how they would take care of you better than I could, how they wished you were their little slut, so they could use you. Let's get you to scream out loud so they can hear how much I satisfy you so don't hold those noises back love" he purred into my ear

At this point my panties were completely soaked, and he noticed

"Already so wet huh? Hearing that her friends want to fuck her so bad makes the slut so needy" he whispered into my ear making my knees go weak.

He took off all of my clothing and proceeded to take off his as well, his body is just so sexy I can't stop looking at it.

"I don't think I can wait for any foreplay. Let's cut to the chase yeah bitch?" Lando said as he kissed me.

All I could do was nod feverishly, not being able to form any words.

He quickly aligned his cock with my pussy and bottomed out in one harsh thrust causing me to let out one of the largest moans I've ever let out in my life.

He keeps thrusting hard and fast into as curses and moans keep leaving my mouth.

"Such a dirty little bitch, showing everyone how much I please you. Beg to cum little whore." Lando whispered.

I just couldn't resist his touch

"Oh Lando please give me your big, fat cock, please please let me cum!" I begged with the most innocent look on my face.

"Such a good whore. Cum, cum with me" Said Lando satisfied with my begging as he continued to thrust into me hard and fast as we both reached our highs.

He groaned lowly and I nearly screamed as we both came together.

I heard shuffling outside

"That ought to tell them who can please you and who can't eh?" Lando said in a husky voice

"You're mine, love, only mine."

#f1 #f1 smut #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #formula 1 #formula 1 smut #motogp

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readychilledwine · 7 months

Text

Lost Bonds pt 3

Summary - After the second war, an unexpected bond with Y/n Archeron, and repairing all he's lost, Tamlin is shocked with news from the very female Rhys has been protecting from him.

Warnings- alcohol use, implied affair,implied smut, sex magic/sex pollen

A/n- Everything will be explained to y/n and wrapped in a mostly pretty bow in Part 4 on Tuesday 💚

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 4

Tamlin sat in silence, nursing hard alcohol as Rhys reappeared before him hours later. “It explains a lot,” Rhysand said softly as he sat. Tamlin pushed the Winter Court Scotch Rhysand's way. “I swear we didn't know, Tamlin.”

“So Feyre admitted it?” Rhys nodded, staring into the bonfire Tamlin had going. “She's not truly happy anymore, Rhys.”

“We know. She hasn't been happy since she watched Cassian and Nesta fall in love and their mating bond grow, then Lucien and Elain, then Amren and Varian, Eris and his wife. Mor and Emerie.” The High Lord threw back a heavy drink. “Then Azriel found his mate. And now she feels like she's an obstacle to his happiness, he feels she's a burden but refuses to let her go. He wants both."

Tamlin hummed, ignoring the flaring anger at the idea of his mate being treated like a second choice, like a burden. “How did she end up in Spring?”

Rhys sighed and looked down. “She wanted to get away from Azriel. They had gotten into a fight while he was training her. She wanted to go somewhere she'd be loved and safe unconditionally.”

Rhys paused, eyes locked on the stars. “It's funny, you know, Feyre painted their dresser drawers to fit their personalities and they've predicted their mates too.” He drank heavily again, eyes watering slightly. “Feyre painted the night sky on hers and became the stars eternal. Nesta's was bathed in flames so red the closest match we could find to recreate the dresser was Cassian's siphons, and we watched that scene during the war with that so called God, silver flames blazing and reflecting the red of my brother's armor. Elain's danced with sunlight and flowers. Her and Lucien the heir of the fucking Day Court,” Tamlin couldn't help the laugh that came with that sentence, nor could Rhys. “They live in Helion's largest garden in a cabin.”

“And y/n?”

“A raging storm and blooming trees.”

“And yet you all keep her there. Where she isn't destined by the Mother to be and where she is screaming for freedom.”

“Feyre isn't prepared to forgive nor forget.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes, purposely pushing every moment he had done something to make up for what he had done into Rhysand's mind. “I believe I have more than atoned for my sins against the female that started this all on a lie. The female who ended my curse should have been my mate, Rhys. That's why I fought so hard. Why I protected her even if my methods were ideas from my father and blind trauma. Did you not explain that to her?"

Rhys avoided answering, torn between the part of him that knew Tamlin was correct and the mating bond screaming to protect and defend inside of him. “I'll start sending her to you as an emissary. If the bond snaps on her end, we go from there. And Tamlin,” the High lord took his former friend's chin into his face. “Be grateful. Be grateful you didn't hear y/n's neck snap, that you didn't watch her be tortured for 3 months. That-”

“I watched the woman I loved go through all of that. Then I watched my mate be forced into an ancient world creating pot because i trusted the wrong female,” Tamlin took back the Scotch, drinking enough to burn his throat. “I think we understand each other more than you are willing to believe.”

Rhys nodded, looking away. “Y/n likes her bed made with 3 blankets so she can sleep with the window open at all times. She thinks white flowers are the prettiest. She likes chocolate way too much for a normal person.”

Rhysand's jaw tightened before he continued. “Do you remember how my sister use to scrunch her nose really hard when she was thinking?”

Tamlin chuckled softly into his hand, picturing her little face so clearly. “Y/n does the same thing.” It was a quiet confession, one that could have came with an apology, but the two of them has accepted the words “I'm sorry” would never be passed between them many years ago.

“So you've kept her from me because she reminds you of Stella?” Rhys just nodded before winnowing away.

Tamlin felt his lip twitch when you first appeared two months later. Rhys was either stupid, or fatherhood had made the male forget to look at a calendar. You were here for a 3 day weekend visit to discuss trade between Spring and the Night Court.

A 3 day weekend that fell on Calanmai. Tamlin was shaking as he led you to the chambers he had built just for you. Chambers his Lady would reside in when or if they were choosing to sleep in separate beds.

He realized he would have to keep you in the manor tonight, but excluding a guest from a court's most important holiday was considered a major offense. He thought about calling for Rhys, calling to remind him what today was, but he knew, at least he thought he did, that you would stay inside. It had worked with Feyre, after all. He had stopped searching for her when she wasn't easy to get to. Surely it would be the same for you. The magic would switch and call to another. He'd be able to ignore the scent of lilac, gooseberry, and fresh parchment.

He pushed open the door and watched your face with a deep breath held in his chest. “Tamlin, this room is too nice. This is clearly meant for someone with high standing. It's across from yours, I can't-”

“These are guest quarters for a high-ranking guest,” the lie came so smoothly. “You are a high-ranking guest. Get settled. I'll have a handmaid come get you for tea.” He shut the door behind you, going back to preparations and letting the kitchen know he needed tea made.

Your guest room was fit for a queen, not a guest. A large walk-in closet sat willed with dresses, an island in the middle with drawers for jewelry. A standing mirror with ornate patterns of florals and vines sat unused, untouched. The bed was massive, possibly larger than the one you shared with Azriel, and it had soft satin sage green sheets, a fur throwing blanket lining the foot. 4 posts came off the bed, a light cream colored fabric and curtains creating a canopy and optional privacy. A vanity sat, empty and waiting for its lady to fill it with oils and lotions.

He had clearly put you in a Lady's quarters. A safe place for her to be away from her husband. Something you had asked Azriel for since his bond with Gwyn snapped, and you two had begun drifting apart. Something he continued to deny you as tensions grew between you two.

You entered the door opposite of the closet and felt your heart begin to dance. The bathroom was stunning. White and grey marbled floors, a sunk in tub large enough for two, accents of that same soft green and gold. It was what the tub overlooked that made your heart truly flutter, though. It overlooked a garden and the forest. Elain would have killed for this view, but instead, you sat on the ground, crossing your legs, and you took it all into yourself. Hogging the moment and soaking in it.

Nightfall came quickly, and Tamlin had warned you of what would come. You had made the choice to stay inside even though a pang of jealousy reared its ugly head.

You had no claim to him. No ownership over his body, his choices. It didn't change the emotion, though, as you laid your hands over the edge of that tub and watched fire make shadows dance across the leaves.

He had warned you that you may feel tugging, a pull urging you to come outside. He had asked that you ignore it, and Cauldron, you were trying. You were ignoring that growing warmth in your stomach, the haze setting into your mind. You tried to focus on thoughts of the fight you and Azriel would finish when you got home. Of the way you would crawl into a separate bed from your husband as soon as he fell asleep, still smelling like Gwyn. You tried to focus your thoughts on your marriage and how it was slowly crumbling below you after his actions.

But those tugs were growing stronger, aching in your chest with desire and need. You jumped as the door to your room slammed open, and Tamlin growled. He seemed more beast than fae, mind lost in whatever this ritual had done to him. “Tamlin?”

Your voice shook him enough as he kneeled down in front if you, broad chest exposed and covered in swirling paint. “Y/n,” his voice was strained as he struggled to keep his eyes on your face. “Should have sent you back.” He was grounding out each syllable. “Fucking Rhysand.”

You felt it again, a harsh tug on your chest before warmth and dedication flowed into your body. You gasped at how close it felt and his eyes grew wide. “You can feel it?”

“Feel what? That tug?”

He nodded almost desperate as he lifted you out of the water and searched for something. He came back with your robe, wrapping you in it before trying to lead you somewhere. “Tamlin, where are we going?”

“The Cave.” His voice wasn't his own, but another tug came. That ancient echo spoke again, making you shiver.. “I won't allow this vessel to settle for less than his mate.”

His mate. You almost froze, making whatever held Tamlin's body stop and throw you over his shoulder. “Close your eyes, and feel,” it commanded as it walked you out the front door.

The cave was filled with the sounds of sex, the scent of magic, arousal, sweat. Tamlin laid you on a bed at the center of it, eyes blown with lust. You felt it then, that string binding your souls, holding you together like missing pieces to a puzzle. He was himself again now, looking down at you with hesitation. “I will let you go if you ask, little rose.”

Your body was humming, mind lost as your eyes began to water staring into his. “It's just mindless sex,” you repeated words you'd heard since Azriel's bond snapped. “It means nothing to you.”

Tamlin's brow knit, those green eyes aching with sorrow for you. “It means everything. You mean everything to me," and he crashed his lips down onto yours.

General Taglist:

Lost Bonds Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish

@impossibelle @fxckmiup @applerubyy @awkardnerd @sleepylunarwolf @macimads @esposadomd @stormhearty

#acotar #acotar x reader #tamlin #tamlin x reader #tamlin x y/n #tamlin x you #tamlin acotar

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knavesflames · 4 months

Text

Hi! Remember this?

I decided to finally make a part two. Unfortunately, no, there isn’t a happy ending. I tried and tried but couldn’t find anything that would let them be happy. The quality of this is also not as good as the first one, I fear. Alas, it is here. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1147

Contents: bro just sadness

utc!

Arlecchino doesn’t come home for hours. The night ticks on and for the first hour, you just sit there in tears, your outfit not at all matching, though that seems to be the least of your problems. By the second hour, your eyes and throat burn, and you feel like it’s almost impossible to stop crying, and you wonder if you ever will. You drag yourself out of the bed, the bed you’ve made love on so many times, the bed she has laid you on as she coaxed our every single orgasm you’ve ever had. The tangled bedsheets and what’s remaining of her imprint from her body is a cruel, painful reminder. A reminder that you are not the one she’s been in love with this entire time, that you were just a replacement.

You wander the halls of your home, a gigantic, lavish home. Much larger than it needs to be, really, but Arlecchino always loved to show off her wealth. You don’t look towards the walls, you know that you’ll only see many, many photos of you and Arlecchino. Ones you that you hung there, and you remember the grin on your face when they were in place. You remember how your smile faded slightly when Arlecchino replied with a simple “that’s nice, dear.” You assumed she was only tired. Every single thing you remember but ignored comes crashing onto you, and all you can do is stare at the floor like some pathetic dog being scolded for doing something they shouldn’t have. You feel pathetic, or worthless, or angry. You can’t really tell which when they all blend together. You pad around the hallways aimlessly, a hollow, miserable look in your eyes.

You find yourself in the bathroom, and one look at yourself breaks the dam and your eyes fill with tears again. You can only see her, yet you look nothing like her. Therein lies the problem, you realise. Your hair is not red, nor do you have her white headband. You stare at yourself, muttering hateful words until yourself is not yourself. Your reflection is just a blur and you can’t tell what you look like. Your fist clenches, and you understand you have to leave the bathroom before the mirror shatters over the floor. Sombrely heading towards the living room, you’re met with pure rage at the sight of the lumidouce bells. A scoff is heard from you as you notice the picture of you three right next to them. Yet again, it went unnoticed, or perhaps, ignored. In a fit of impulsivity, the photo frame crashes to the floor with a guttural scream of “I hate you!” And of course, the vase topples to the floor too. You give no fucks as to the fact it’s four in the morning, or that the neighbours will probably complain. Let them complain, you think.

Arlecchino finally comes through the door at 9am. Your face is so swollen and puffy she wonders if you’re even the same person. You hear rustling and look towards her. There, in her hands, lies a bouquet of lakelight lilies, and yet it stings more than ever before, being the second choice. But doesn’t it fit so well? Perhaps too well. You quickly look away to avoid the sixth batch of tears.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

A bitter laugh leaves your throat before you can even stop yourself, your gaze refusing to even glance in her direction, your voice practically a sneer.

“What, did they run out of my favourite?”

“Stop that. Please. You know I love you.”

How are you so angry, so hurt, yet your heart still beats for her? Her lips come to your forehead in a kiss, and there’s a whimper before you burst into quiet sobs again.

“You admitted you don’t. What am I to you? A friend, a lover, the way I thought we were? Or some sort of sick rebound?”

Arlecchino has a tendency to stay silent when someone is correct and she does not want to admit it. Maybe because she won’t can’t admit it to herself, maybe because she can’t see you cry anymore.

“You are a cruel woman, Peruere. You use me all these years, you pretend I am someone I am not, you ruin me, and yet I find myself choosing to wait for you to want me like a dog with a bird at the door. A stray dog chasing after any sort of attention you will give me, don’t you realise, you stupid woman? I whine for you and your affection and you choose to muzzle me and leave me at the side of the road to favour someone who died so long ago. Is that what I am to you? A mutt, waiting and ready for you to kick when you’re down?”

Your outburst is unexpected, the usually stoic and unfearing woman flinching at the sheer desperation in your words. Her lips begin to form your name, but you snarl, cutting her off.

“Call me for who you think I am. Strays and mutts cycle through names anyway, so why does it matter? Say it.”

When she doesn’t respond, your anger explodes, and you push the lilies out of her hand, trampling on them and shoving her over and over again as you demand that she calls you the name you know she’s been secretly calling you. If anyone were to push and shove her the way you’re doing, they’d be ash, a new spirit to haunt her in her dreams. Yet, she withstands it with a blank face, her eyes swirling with regret and sadness.

“Shall I bark for you, Peruere? Get on my knees and beg for you to pay attention to me? Would that make you feel better? Or shall I dye my hair red and buy a white headband, and wear that damned necklace I know you keep?”

Eventually her eyes close, and she mutters a word so quiet you almost can’t hear it over the sound of your rushing heart and your ragged breathing. Your eyes burn again, but you only wish you could burn her in her own flames until she herself becomes a spirit.

“Clervie.”

That seems to do it for you, barking out a harsh laugh that’s anything but happy. You move towards the door, sliding whatever shoes you can find on.

“Oh, my poor, mad, cursed knave. You live up to who people think you are, after all. When you’re dying in the war that will occur when your precious god gets what she wants, I hope you scream for me. I hope I’m there to watch.”

With your final words, you slam the door so hard it almost comes off of its hinges, leaving a stunned, hurt Arlecchino Peruere to clean up the mess of what she had caused, both physically and mentally, though she wonders if she ever could.

#knavesflames #Ayo sorry I am not happy with this #arlecchino #arlecchino angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact #arlecchino genshin #arlechinno genshin #arlechinno x reader #arle #genshin fanfic

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