#the twins are spoken to like attendants | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellecdc · 5 months

Text

James and Sirius and Remus and Lily and *takes a dramatic breath* you?

this one's for you @enamoredwithbella, thanks for sorting this idea out with me @unstablereader

poly!Marauders + Lily x shy!reader who is so smitten with them

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4 // pt 5

CW: fem!reader, reader has hair long enough to be played with, reader is in Hufflepuff, swearing, consent because it's sexy AF

This was obviously a bad idea.

You’re not even sure how your friends managed to convince you to attend the Gryffindor party, but you swore to every deity it would never happen again.

There were too many people (most of whom you’d never spoken to before), it was too loud (songs you didn’t particularly care for), and the fifteenth time someone bumped into you nearly sent you over the edge.

“Whoa there, sweetheart.” A low voice commented as an arm quickly righted you from your nearly horizontal position. “Y’alright?”

You looked up to see the face of none other than Gryffindor quidditch captain James Potter beaming down at you.

You were ashamed of yourself for the way that smile made you feel.

“Erm, yup! Thanks.” You squeaked, quickly freeing yourself from James’ grasp so fast that you nearly knocked someone else over in your attempt at creating distance between you and the Headboy.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like James. On the contrary; you were rather smitten with him.

Him and his partners - which was nothing short of dense in simple terms.

But you couldn’t help the way you blushed when he held the doors open for you as you walked into classes, or the friendly smile and wave he’d shoot at you when he saw you on Prefect rounds.

You sort of wished he’d stop being so bloody nice to you; maybe then you’d be able to get over this crush that was never going to amount to anything.

But James was taken; three times over.

And what a sodding group they were.

Heart Throb of Hogwarts™ Sirius Black in his effortless style, his devil may care attitude, and his insatiable flirting. Being noticed by Sirius felt like your favourite rockstar singing a song written just for you.

And don’t even get you started on the enigma that is Remus Lupin; the Cassanova of Gryffindor tower. Everyone in your year (and likely the years below you) had at some point or another crushed hard on the quiet Marauder; but it really couldn’t be helped. He was tall, he was handsome, he was kind, and though he was far more quiet than his counterparts, the quips he shared with you never ceased to reduce you to a fit of laughter.

And gods, was Lily Evans ever beautiful. She was the total package; she was funny, outgoing, smart, and stunning. Looking at her even now with her long auburn hair as she threw her head back in laughter; so open and care free in her actions. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be her or being underneath-

No.

No. That was not a nice thing to think about someone who was in a committed relationship.

You let out a sigh as you zoned back into the fact that James still had one of his hands on your elbow and was smiling curiously at you.

“Thanks for the save! I really owe you one.” You chuckled awkwardly and nearly took out one of the Prewett twins in your haste to leave Potter’s vicinity.

Unfortunately, trouble seemed to be following you.

And by trouble, you meant Sirius Black.

“Damn, Hufflepuff!” He cheered as he moved a sultry gaze up and down your body appreciatively. “Give us a spin, dollface.”

You felt all the blood in your body migrate to your cheeks as you fought to keep your mouth from falling open.

Lily, the beautiful angel (or the evil temptress, depending on how you looked at it), swatted at Sirius from her perch on the arm of the chair her boyfriend was currently occupying.

“Down boy; you’re going to scare her away.” She teased with a smirk as she winked at you.

You felt momentarily grateful for her.

And then she spoke again.

“Then none of us will get to look at her.”

Fucking Helga, was it hot in here? They needed to open more windows; preferably one you could launch yourself out of right now, thank you very much.

“That’d be such a shame, really. Sorry doll, you don’t gotta spin - no one else here deserves to appreciate such a view.”

“Okay.” You squeaked and turned in search of your friends.

You know what? Fuck your friends; you were leaving with or without them.

They weren’t….flirting with you, were they?

Surely not.

Of course not.

What a ridiculous thing to think.

But…it certainly felt like they were flirting with you.

Maybe one more glance?

Just as you were about to approach the portrait hole, you turned for one more look at the objects of your affection and your current tormentors and - yup, sure enough - Sirius, Lily, and now James were all standing there smiling at you.

They were watching you leave?!

Okay time to go, that is enough nonsense for one day.

You spun and collided with something tall and solid which thankfully caught your arms as you all but ricocheted off of them.

“Hey there, dove. Where’re you headed in such a hurry?”

Please for the love of gods, don’t tell me…

But of course, you looked up to see the face of one Remus Fucking Lupin smirking down at you.

“You lot are everywhere.” You whispered in awe. The bastard only chuckled in response.

“Come on you guys! We’re going to start a game of truth or dare!” Lily called over to…you (?) and Remus.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to miss that, would we?” Remus murmured lowly into your ear as he steered you towards the growing circle congregating around the various chairs and sofas littering the common room.

And listen, you’re not particularly proud that you were so placid in Remus’ man handling you.

But in your defence…

In your defence, Remus was man handling you.

And to your absolute horror, he plopped you down beside Lily on a large chair that was not quite large enough for two people.

You tried to swallow your heart back down which was attempting to escape via your mouth as you became hyper focused on the fact that Lily sodding Evans was pushed up against you none too casually and- Merlin’s tits, was she playing with your hair!?

You pretended to pay attention as a few rounds passed by; your friend being dared to give you a lap dance being the most brazen thing to have taken place.

Until it got to the Marauders.

Marlene dared Sirius to strip down to his boxers for a whole round which he was all but too eager to do, apparently. Meaning he got to ask the next person.

“Moony!”

Remus smiled down at his lap before he looked over at one of his boyfriend’s mischievously.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl here.”

You’re not necessarily proud of the way your heart plummeted at that; this is what you had been telling yourself all night. They were taken.

No matter if they complimented you.

No matter if they caught you as you fell.

No matter if they snuggled up to you on a chair designed for one.

No matter if one of them made you feel like you leaving the party early would have been truly devastating.

No matter.

“That’s impossible; there’s two of them.” Remus said quickly, causing your heart to ache for Lily.

Who even says that when their girlfriend is sitting right here!?

You kept your head down as the party all ooooh’ed and aawwwweee’d.

James let out a funny high pitched laugh as if he were an over excited kid on Christmas morning. “Guess you’ll have to kiss them both then.”

You really should have left when you had the chance; you weren’t sure you could watch.

It was their business if they wanted to include another, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

“Or they can kiss each other; I think I’d enjoy that just as much.”

“Sounds good to me.” Lily said as she stood; the space she once inhabited felt cold and vacant without her.

“Well? Come on then?” She said as she grabbed your arm.

“What?”

“Come with me.” She said again, wiggling your arm within your grasp, and who were you to deny her, really?

Like a well trained dog you followed her obediently over to where Remus sat before she all but shoved you into his lap.

“You seem like the fidgety type; maybe Rem can help with that, hm?” She said as she shot a wink at Remus over your shoulder.

His arms wrapped possessively around your waist as he rested his chin on the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Is it okay if she kisses you, pretty girl?”

You had no time to be absolutely horrified at the pathetic little keening sound that escaped your lips as you looked up at the red-head now towering over you.

“What do you say, gorgeous?” And though her emerald eyes did shine with some mischief, you could see she was earnest; this was your choice.

“Okay.” You whispered barely loud enough for you to hear yourself over the hammering of your heart.

“Yeah?” She whispered as she knelt in front of you.

“Yeah.” You agreed.

And you only got to see the soft, hopeful smile that adorned her lips for but a moment before her hands were on either side of your face and she was pressing her soft lips to yours.

It could have been hours or centuries but it was also all too soon before she was pulling away from you; a proud smile on her lips though her cheeks were a similar colour to her hair.

You became aware of the hooting and hollering going on around you as Remus’ chest began to vibrate in laughter.

“Beautiful.” He murmured - likely more to himself than to you, but you heard it all the same.

“Do I get a turn?!” James shouted before Sirius roughly grabbed him by the waist and planted him down on his lap.

“Not before me, Jamie.” He snickered as he shot you a wink.

The audacity of a man to still be so confident sitting in nothing but his boxers.

You tried to hide behind your hands though it was all for naught as Remus made a theatrical cooing sound and pulled you further into his lap until you were all but cradled in his arms.

“Maybe without an audience next time, hm?” He asked you as he brushed some hairs away from your forehead.

Not trusting yourself to speak (or to even make direct eye contact with the bloke currently cuddling you in your lap), you nodded with your face still hidden.

“Way to go babe.” James said as Lily went to join the two boys on their loveseat. “You were so good, we’ll even get a next time!”

read about their first date here!

2K notes · View notes

wandaslovey · 6 days

Text

𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗, 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢

➺ step mommy!wanda x innocent!fem reader

wc ~ 2.8k

a/n: the people have spoken! the poll i posted was incredibly close between mommy!wanda w/ readers first time being with a woman and mommy!wanda corruption kink. i decided to just go ahead and combine the two. enjoy!

a/n: so i actually hate this buuut i figured i would post it anyways. any feedback is welcome, just please be nice :)) (im fragile🥹)

*not proofread*

cw: unspecified age gap, stepcest, mommy!kink, corruption kink, somnophilia, cunnilingus (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mild humiliation (sorta?)

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

you were cuddled up in wanda’s arms as you lie on your side, facing the television with some old disney movie playing. she had her arm draped around your torso, holding your body back against hers. you had fallen asleep a little while ago, your breathing slow and even.

it was your last week of being home for summer semester before you had to go back to school. you had debated going back home for break, and not even because you had to face your notoriously neglectful father, but because you had to face your step mother—wanda. it had been a few years now that she had married your father. it was a marriage strictly out of convenience and stability. she had her twin boys to raise and wanted a father figure for them to look up to. what she didn’t expect was to inherit you. her beautiful, precious, innocent step-daughter. you were 18 at the time and a senior in high school. she easily took your under her wing and loved you just as much as she did her own children. her love for you started out innocent, but soon morphed into her own perversion. she loved how perfectly innocent you were—even as the years went by. the way your dressed, spoke and acted all seemed to drive her fantasies into an even more perverted corner.

she would often lay awake at night, touching herself to the thought of you. your soft, small hands squeezing and caressing her breasts. your full, pouty lips pressed against hers or better yet.. wrapped around one of her nipples. she knew you were inexperienced and that only drove her more insane. one of her favorite fantasies was having you in her lap, your little skirt bunched up at your waist as she had her wand vibrator pressed up against your cloth-covered pussy. she would try different settings, taking in your little gasps and whimpers as she takes note of just how sensitive you are.

“oh, does that feel good, baby?”

“mm, mommy loves watching you squirm like this in her lap.”

she would watch in real time as your panties become soaking wet, the material almost see through by the time she was done.

now you.. you were completely and utterly enthralled with wanda. she was so beautiful, elegant and seemed to perform every thing she did with grace. even down to the smallest domestic actions, you found yourself squirming in your seat as she went about doing the tasks. growing up, you never had much sexual interest in boys or girls. once your step-mother came into your life, boy, did that change. you found yourself instantly attracted to her femininity, her kindness, but mostly her nurturing disposition. having a narcissistic biological mother meant you lacked one of the most important female relationships in your life.

you craved her attention. since you were attending a local college, that allowed you to travel home often. you didn’t ever go back to see your dad (of course) but to see her. and if you were being honest, you did love billy and tommy as well. they were the greatest little siblings you could have ever hoped for.

each time you went back to visit, your fantasies and thoughts about wanda became progressively more explicit. it started with her holding you, gently stroking your hair as you were cuddled up. however, you knew your feelings were getting stronger when one day you were passing her bedroom and found the door open a crack. she was dressing into her night clothes and you caught a glimpse of her naked back. you couldn’t walk away even if you wanted to. you stood there gawking as she dressed, seeing more of her bare skin than ever before. there was a growing, slightly foreign ache between your legs as you watched her. you pressed your thighs together, mouth slightly agape as you stared at the sight before you.

from then on, anytime you were home you would make it a point to try and sneak a peak of her nakedness whenever you knew she might be showering or changing. in bed at nighttime, your mind ran wild with so many fantasies. you were innocent, but not clueless. you would imagine her perfectly manicured hands sliding down your bare torso, her fingers dipping into the hem of your sleep shorts. then after teasing you a bit, her pulling them off your legs. she would be slow, soft and gentle with her touches. her voice (which you could listen to all day) murmuring sweet praises as she drew small, tight circles around your clit. her kissing and marking your neck. you would proudly wear her love bites.

her gasping with you as she inserts her fingers into your virginal pussy for the first time…

as the movie played on the screen, wanda found herself unable to focus on the scene unfolding before her. instead, she was watching you—your chest rising and falling steadily. she propped herself up, peeking down at your face to make sure your eyes were closed. her libido was burning hot. your body held firmly against hers was enough to get her mind running a mile a minute. you sigh softly in your sleep, wiggling your ass further against her front. wanda smiles to herself, finding the image of you sleeping so soundly in her arms just adorable. but what would be even more adorable? hearing your little whimpers and moans as she touches you. she had never touched you in a non-innocent way before and honestly—she was tired of being good. she wanted her way with you, and tonight she was going to have it.

she began slowly tracing her fingertips up and down your arm, goosebumps rising in their wake. your skin was so soft under her touch. her hand slid to your torso, her fingers slipping under your shirt and running up your waist. she stopped when her fingertips felt the fabric of your bra. she shifted herself carefully so she was propped up on one arm, her body hovering above yours. her free hand now traced slowly up your knee, her fingers on a sinful journey to your soft, milky inner thighs. she gently squeezed the squishiest part, wanting to do that since she saw a glimpse of them whenever you wore your bikini’s at the pool. your legs parted for her and she smiled at your body’s natural instinct to open up for her.

her fingers teased the edges of your panties and she noticed there was already a small wet patch on the material. oh you were a needy girl, weren’t you.

she quickly became desperate to see more of you, but she didn’t want you to wake—yet. she gently pulled your shirt down, the material bunching just past the middle part of your bra. she then leaned down, pressing slow, wet kisses along the tops of your breasts. her tongue snaked out, dipping behind the material and grazing over your nipple. you shifted slightly, a small whine sounding past your lips. wanda paused her movements briefly, glancing up at your face to make sure you were still asleep. once she was satisfied you weren’t going to open your eyes, her fingers resumed their teasing of your inner thighs and panty lines. she dragged her tongue across your chest to your other breast, this time swiping her tongue more firmly over your pert nipple. the hand that was teasing the seam of your panties finally slid past the material, seeking your now inexplicably wet heat. her finger dragged down your slit, gathering the wetness at your entrance and then swirling it up around your clit. you began to stir slightly, your hips gently rolling up into her ministrations.

she kept you on the edge of unconsciousness, being careful not to rouse her little girl prematurely. once she thought you were sufficiently worked up, she maneuvered herself until she was laying between your legs. she gently lifted one of your legs so it bended for her, your unconscious body seeming to assist her as you rest your foot flat on the couch, your leg leaning to the side for better access to your core. she leaned down, her eyes intent on your face as she didn’t want to miss a single reaction. her warm tongue drew a line up your panty-covered slit. your body twitched at the sensation, a small hum in the back of your throat. she repeated the action, gliding her tongue up and down a few times before she needed the offending garment off your body.

her hands caressed up your thighs before grabbing onto your panties and sliding them off of you. she was mindful to take them all the way off, tucking them away in her pocket for later. returning to her previous engagement, she watched your brow furrow slightly, a small gasp leaving your lips as her tongue parted your wet folds. she hummed softly at the flavor of you and fought the urge to delve in right there.

wanting to see those pretty eyes of yours now that her head was between your legs, she licked a firmer stripe up your slit, her hands squeezing your hips. you began to stir again, a feeling of confusion washed over you as you realize there was something hot and wet against your core. you gasped, suddenly awake all at once as you look down and see your step-mother with her head between your legs, her tongue swirling all over your heat. “w-wanda?” you panted out, confused. while you had hoped for something like this to happen, you didn’t think it actually would.

“hmm, hi sweet girl,” she murmured into your pussy, her eyes gleaming with wicked intent as she looked up a you. her tongue expertly explored your folds and you couldn’t help but whimper softly, the sight before you almost overwhelming.

“what’re you doing?” you whimpered. your hips gently rolling into her face at their own accord.

“shhh, baby. let mommy have her fun, hmm? i promise you’ll like it.” you didn’t really need much further encouragement, so you let her proceed without further protest.

“that’s it, huh? were you hoping i would do this to you? were you hoping mommy would finally cave and eat her little girl’s pussy?”

you moaned, her words only making your head more cloudy. she chuckled and you could feel the vibrations reverberate through your core.

you were getting lost in the sensations when she suddenly stopped. “tell me,” she insisted, her eyes were intent on your face as if searching for the truth.

“y-yes mommy..” you whimpered, feeling embarrassed to have to admit this to your step mother. “yes what, baby?” you squirmed under her scrutiny, not wanting to reveal your naughty fantasies out loud. with your hesitation, she decided to tease you further, her finger coming up and circling your entrance. she teased your opening, dipping just the tip of her finger in and out. you whined, her ministrations pleasant but not enough. “please,” you whined. she persisted with her teasing motions, careful not to give you too much stimulation. “tell me the truth milaya moya..i want to hear your say it.” you swallowed back some of your nerves, your fuzzy mind making it harder to want to hide the truth from her. “i’ve wanted you to touch me like this for so long, mommy..” your voice was breathless, your body became more desperate as her fingers continued teasing you.

“have you? what a naughty girl.. and here i was thinking you were a sweet, innocent little thing.” she cooed, her touch becoming more pleasurable as she rewarded your honesty by drawing firm circles around your clit. you moaned, your eyes slid shut wanting to savor every sensation she was pulling from your body.

“ah ah ah, open your eyes. watch mommy.” her voice was gentle yet commanding; you had no choice but to obey. you opened your eyes and find that where her eyes were once green, they were now almost black with desire. “have you ever stuck your fingers inside here before?” her finger gently prodded at your opening, you body wiggling at the sensation.

“o-once..” while the experience wasn’t entirely unpleasant, you didn’t understand why girls would pleasure themselves that way. it just didn’t feel that good to you. “and you didn’t like it?” she gently probed, the hand that wasn’t teasing your entrance caressing the outside of your thigh.

you shook your head, opting to remain silent to answer her question. “that’s perfectly normal, baby. you know what though? i’ll bet mommy can find that special spot inside of you. will you let me try?” truthfully, she was going to try it regardless of what you said. she knew she would be able to find that sweet, spongy spot to curl her fingers against, drawing white hot pleasure from you. you nodded your head slowly, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth nervously.

with how wet you were, wanda was sure two of her fingers could easily slip inside. she watched you as your eyes were locked in on her hand that was between your legs. when she slipped her two fingers inside your hole, you gasped. there was a slight pressure from the stretch but you found it only added to the pleasure you felt. her face contorted with yours and she mimicked your facial expression, wholly invested in your pleasure as if it were her own.

her fingers moved slowly at first, but soon after picked up the pace. you threw your head back, your eyes shutting once again.

“open your eyes, pretty girl. look at me.” you whimpered, reluctantly opening your eyes again to look into hers. she chose that moment then to curl her fingers up against that spongy spot inside you. your mouth formed an “o,” your brows pulling together as you whined, the feeling surprising you. she quickly picked up the pace, her fingers curling and rubbing up against your g spot with fervor. “that’s it baby. you feel that? you feel mommy inside of you?” you moaned and bucked your hips into her hand, feeling her thumb start to circle your clit.

you felt the pressure building in your lower abdomen, your heart starting to pound in your chest as you get closer to your climax. one of your hands clutched onto her wrist of the hand that was pumping in and out of your wet hole.

“mommy! gonna cum!” your body was writhing and shaking under her touch. you finally become unraveled as she leans down and wraps her lips around your clit, suckling the bundle of nerves into her mouth. the moan you let out was downright pornographic as she helps you ride out your high; her fingers slowing and her tongue giving you little kitten licks until you were fully back down to earth.

you chest rose and fell heavily as you tried to catch your breath. wanda crawled up your body, her legs on either side of your hips as she gently rested her upper body atop of yours. she brushed some stray hairs behind your ear, taking note of your adorably flushed cheeks. your eyes were closed as you gathered yourself and when they peeked open to look at hers, they were met with a sea of green. a small smile was tugging on the corners of her lips.

“hi,” you whispered quietly, your eyes slightly hooded as your orgasm only made you feel sleepy again. “hi, baby love,” she smiled at you, her eyes crinkling and her nose scrunching. you give her back a small smile of your own, your brain and body feeling fuzzy and light. “mmm i feel like jello, mommy.” she chuckled gently at your chosen word to describe how you feel. “yeah?” she leaned in and began peppering light kisses all over your face, relishing in your cuteness. you giggled softly, wrapping your arms around her neck to keep her there. she scooted over, maneuvering herself so she was lying next to you with your body pulled close against hers.

you two lie there in silence for several minutes, just enjoying each others company. “wanda?” you questioned, your voice soft and a little hesitant. “hmmm?”

“how long have you wanted to do that to me?”

wanda smiled to herself which you didn’t see with your face tucked under into her neck.

“a long time.” she said simply.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x you #mommy wanda #corruption kink #somno k!nk

719 notes · View notes

novaursa · 24 days

Text

Where Dragons Dare (2/3)

- Summary: After your declaration to marry Alicent in the small council meeting, the day of the wedding finally comes. And so does your first wedding night.

- Paring: male!targ reader/Alicent Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is twin brother of Rhaenyra and is bonded with a dragon. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: This was requested by @witch-of-letters. Enjoy! ❤️ Battle of the Stepstones is add as a bonus, because I love writing dragon battles. The last part will be posted later tomorrow once it is done.

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: 3

The grand hall of the Red Keep is awash with the glow of thousands of candles. The flames dance across golden tapestries depicting the histories of Old Valyria, but today the storied past pales in comparison to the momentous occasion unfolding before all in attendance. The wedding is one spoken of in whispers and rumors, but now it blooms before the gathered lords and ladies with all the splendor and gravitas worthy of House Targaryen.

You stand at the altar draped in black and red, the rich silk of your doublet catching the light in subtle ways. The fine Valyrian embroidery at the hems speaks of dragons in flight, each thread imbued with dark crimson that shimmers like fresh blood. A black cloak, edged in deep scarlet, flows from your shoulders, fastened at your throat with a clasp shaped like a coiled dragon. Your hair, the silvery-white of pure Valyrian descent, is tied back, letting your angular features and sharp violet eyes take in every gaze, every emotion displayed openly or hidden away. At your side hangs Blackfyre—your birthright as Prince of Dragonstone—its pommel set with a ruby that gleams like a beating heart.

Before you, Alicent Hightower stands radiant in a gown of deep emerald green. The dress, fitted perfectly to her frame, billows out in layers of silk and fine lace, each shimmering with golden accents as she moves. A delicate crown of silver leaves and pearls rests atop her auburn hair, carefully arranged in elegant curls. Her eyes, a brilliant shade of brown, reflect a mixture of pride, joy, and the quiet steel she’s honed under the pressures of courtly life. There is a softness in her gaze, however, reserved only for you as her eyes meet yours—a silent understanding, a shared relief, and a promise of what is to come.

The Septon's voice rings out, leading the words of the traditional vows. Beside you, Rhaenyra is practically glowing with excitement. Her smile is unrestrained, her eyes darting between you and Alicent with genuine happiness, a sister’s joy at seeing her twin brother embrace his own fate. She wears a gown of pale red, adorned with the colors of House Targaryen and a crown of silver atop her flowing locks, her presence radiating confidence as the heir’s sister and a firm ally to your cause.

King Viserys is seated in a place of honor, his face full of warmth and pride. His smile is wide as he watches his only son wed the woman who has become a daughter to him over the years. He has the contented look of a father who finally sees his children happy, a rare expression in a court filled with ambition and schemes. He lifts his cup in a subtle toast to you and Alicent, his eyes misting over slightly with emotion.

Daemon Targaryen, your uncle, stands near the rear of the gathered nobles, his silver hair catching the light as he observes the ceremony. His expression is inscrutable, but those who know him well enough can see the slight curve at the edge of his lips, the way his gaze sharpens whenever it falls upon you. For all his unpredictability, there is a flicker of pride there—a satisfaction, perhaps, that you finally asserted yourself against the forces that sought to control you. Daemon has always favored those who carve their own path, and today you have done just that.

As the ceremony draws to a close, you step forward to place a cloak upon Alicent’s shoulders, the symbol of House Targaryen enveloping her as you claim her as your own. The green of House Hightower blends now with the red and black of the dragon, a union that cements alliances but more importantly binds two hearts that have long yearned for this day. When you lean in to kiss her, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way her lips meet yours, and the hall erupts in applause, though the world shrinks to just the two of you in that fleeting moment.

As the applause dies down, Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, watches with a carefully controlled expression. His eyes flicker between you and Alicent, a mixture of satisfaction and unease buried beneath his calm demeanor. Though this is a victory for him in securing his daughter’s position, there’s a tension in his jaw—he had hoped to control this outcome more closely, but you’ve slipped from his grasp, a dragon untamed. He studies you with the gaze of a man who sees both a rival and a dangerous ally.

At the feast, Rhaenyra approaches you first, practically throwing herself into your arms. "You did it, Y/N! I knew you would," she beams, her joy infectious. "Alicent looks so beautiful, and you—you were magnificent. I’ve never seen the council so speechless!" Her eyes sparkle with mischief. "And Uncle Daemon, I think he’s actually proud of you for once."

You chuckle, wrapping an arm around your sister. “He probably is. But I didn’t do this for him or the council. This was always for her.” Your gaze drifts back to Alicent, who’s engaged in conversation with a group of highborn ladies, her laughter soft and genuine.

Viserys claps a hand on your shoulder. "You’ve brought honor to our house, Y/N. I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become. Your mother would be so proud, too." His voice carries a slight tremor as he mentions Queen Aemma, but it is quickly overshadowed by his joy.

You offer him a warm smile. "Thank you, father. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that this union strengthens our house."

Daemon is the next to approach, a goblet in hand and that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "I didn’t think you had it in you, nephew," he says, voice laced with amusement. "I was beginning to think you’d let others chart your course forever. But you’ve surprised us all, haven’t you?"

You meet his gaze squarely, your own smile more restrained but no less confident. "Some paths are worth fighting for, uncle. Even if they’re not what others expect."

Daemon raises his cup in a mock salute. “Spoken like a true Targaryen. Perhaps there’s more fire in you than I thought.”

The feast carries on with music, laughter, and the clinking of cups. You and Alicent share dances with the lords and ladies of the realm, but every now and then, your eyes find each other’s, and the world falls away again, leaving just the two of you in this sea of people.

When you finally manage to steal a private moment with her in a quiet corner of the hall, she takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “I was so afraid,” she admits in a hushed voice, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “Afraid that we’d never be able to reach this moment. But here we are.”

You brush a strand of hair from her face, letting your hand linger against her cheek. “You’re mine now, Alicent. I’ll fight for you, for us, against anyone who tries to tear us apart.”

A flicker of relief passes through her expression, followed by a warmth that softens her usually reserved emotions. “And I’ll stand by you, no matter the storm we face.”

The words hang between you like an unspoken vow—one more binding than anything recited before the Septon.

The night deepens as the feast continues, a blur of music and the warm glow of candlelight reflecting off the ornate dishes piled with food. Laughter and the sound of clinking goblets fill the Great Hall. You and Alicent sit side by side at the high table, your hands occasionally brushing against each other beneath the table. The touch is small, but each time it happens, there’s a comforting warmth, a silent reassurance between the two of you. Alicent’s soft smile, reserved just for you, never quite fades from her lips.

As you’re enjoying a brief moment of quiet conversation, the sound of footsteps approaches. Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s brother, strides up, his eyes bright with joy. "Sister! Y/N!" he greets, his voice tinged with the exuberance of youth. His resemblance to Alicent is striking, though his features are more angular, his posture that of a man eager to prove himself. "I couldn’t let the night end without offering my congratulations." He gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder, his grin broad. "It’s about time someone put a spark in this old court! You’ve done well, my friend. I’ve known you since we were boys, and I’ve always believed you’d find your way."

You return his grin, reaching out to clasp his forearm in the familiar gesture of comrades. "Gwayne, your support has never gone unnoticed. I’ve always valued your friendship, even when we got ourselves into trouble as children. But I think this time, we’ve both stepped into something greater than mischief.”

Gwayne chuckles. “You certainly have, Y/N. And Alicent—” He turns to his sister, his tone softening with genuine affection. “I’ve never seen you look happier. I’m glad you’ve found this happiness, even if I’ll be the one who has to keep a closer eye on courtly matters with you from now on.”

Alicent smiles warmly at her brother, her hand gently resting over yours atop the table. “Thank you, Gwayne. Your words mean more to me than you know. And don’t worry, we’ll both make sure to keep you busy in your duties, though perhaps with fewer pranks than when we were children.”

The three of you share a laugh, the ease of old friendships and sibling bonds lightening the mood.

Soon after, the familiar figures of Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys approach. The Sea Snake is every bit the powerful figure one expects, his deep blue doublet adorned with intricate silver embroidery resembling the waves of the sea. Rhaenys is resplendent in crimson and gold, her presence commanding yet warm. There’s a certain wisdom in her gaze as she looks between you and Alicent, as if she sees beyond what most do.

“Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent,” Corlys begins, his voice deep and steady. “Congratulations are in order. The union of Targaryen and Hightower is a strategic move, and one I hope will bring stability to the realm. But more than that, it’s clear to see the bond you share.” His eyes linger on you, a hint of approval in his expression. “And perhaps this is the start of a new chapter where the young find their own path amidst the expectations of the old.”

Princess Rhaenys nods, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “It is good to see love and strength walk hand in hand. The history of our houses has often been marked by conflict, but this—” she gestures subtly between you and Alicent, “—this has the potential to change much. You both carry the future on your shoulders now.”

You bow your head slightly in respect. “Thank you, Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys. Your wisdom is always welcome. I hope to earn that respect in time and prove that this union is more than just a political move.”

Rhaenys’ eyes glint with something sharp and approving. “Oh, I believe you will, Y/N. The blood of Old Valyria runs deep, and you’ve shown you’re willing to chart your own course. I, for one, look forward to seeing what comes next.”

As they step away, Lord Tyland Lannister, clad in rich reds and golds, approaches next. His sharp features and keen eyes give away his nature as a man ever mindful of the shifting tides of power. “Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent, it is a joyous day indeed.” His voice is smooth, practiced, yet there’s an undercurrent of genuine intent behind his words. “House Lannister is ever eager to lend its support to the Targaryen line. May your union be fruitful and prosperous. It seems the dragons have found a way to blend strength with the grace of the Reach.”

You nod, ever cautious with Tyland’s honeyed words. “Thank you, Lord Tyland. Your support will be remembered, and I hope our alliance will benefit all corners of the realm.”

He offers a slight bow before moving off, ever mindful of where the winds blow.

The feast begins to wind down, and as tradition demands, there is the looming expectation of the bedding ceremony. The air in the hall thickens with the anticipation of it. Some lords and ladies begin to gather, murmuring and glancing toward you and Alicent with barely hidden excitement. The tension, the ribald jokes, the whispers—it all threatens to reduce the sanctity of this moment to a spectacle.

Before anyone can make a move to initiate it, you rise to your feet, the air of command in your posture silencing the crowd before the teasing can begin. “There will be no bedding ceremony tonight,” you declare, your voice clear and firm, leaving no room for argument. The hall quiets instantly, the murmur of protests caught in the throats of those who thought to see the night end in such a manner.

Daemon, standing with arms crossed at the edge of the hall, lets out a low chuckle, his approval evident in the sharp nod he gives you. “Let the young prince make his own choices,” he says, his voice carrying across the room. “There’s enough spectacle in these halls without turning the most sacred of nights into another charade.”

The crowd hesitates, unsure whether to push the matter. But when you meet your father’s gaze, Viserys nods slowly, an expression of both surprise and respect on his face. Otto Hightower, who had been watching with tension in his eyes, finally relaxes, a subtle sigh escaping him. His face settles into an expression that resembles something close to approval, a rare look from a man who values tradition and order above all.

Alicent looks at you with deep gratitude and admiration, her fingers squeezing yours as she stands. You turn to her, your expression softening as you offer her your arm. “Shall we retire, my lady?” you ask, your voice laced with tenderness.

She dips her head slightly, eyes shimmering with emotion. “Let’s,” she replies, her voice barely more than a whisper as she takes your arm.

Together, you walk down the long aisle toward the doors leading out of the Great Hall, every eye on you both as you leave. There is a certain weight lifted from your shoulders as the doors close behind you, the noise of the hall fading as you enter the quieter, more intimate corridors of the Keep.

As you walk side by side toward your chambers, the echoes of your footsteps and the distant flicker of torchlight create an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Neither of you speaks, the silence between you comfortable, filled with the knowledge that this is just the beginning. When you reach the doors to your shared chambers, you pause, turning to face her fully. You lift her hand to your lips and press a soft kiss to her knuckles, your eyes never leaving hers.

“No more performances,” you murmur. “This is just us now.”

Alicent’s eyes shine as she steps closer, her other hand rising to rest against your cheek. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to be with you, like this, away from prying eyes.”

With that, you open the door and guide her inside, the world outside forgotten as the heavy oak doors close behind you both, sealing away the courtly intrigue and the expectations of the realm. In this moment, it’s just you and her, bound together by choice, love, and a shared determination to forge your own destiny.

The chamber is bathed in the soft light of the fire, shadows flickering across the stone walls as the door closes behind you both. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable but full with the awareness of what comes next. For all the warmth you share, the affection that’s blossomed over years of quiet moments and unspoken glances, this is new for both of you. The air is tinged with the sweet fragrance of candles, the soft rustle of fabric as you both stand there, suddenly unsure how to proceed.

You turn to face her, meeting Alicent’s gaze. There’s a nervousness in her eyes, a slight quiver in her breath, but beneath it lies trust, and something more—desire, hesitant but real. You step closer, reaching out to take her hands in yours, your thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gentle, soothing motion. “Alicent,” you murmur, your voice softer than usual, tinged with both affection and concern. “Are you sure? If you’re not ready—”

“I am,” she interrupts softly, her voice a tender whisper in the quiet of the room. Her cheeks flush pink, but her eyes never leave yours. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

You nod, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Slowly, you lean down, capturing her lips in a kiss, tender and delicate. Her lips are warm against yours, the kiss a gentle exploration rather than a fervent rush. You both linger in the simplicity of it, letting it ease the tension from your bodies. When you pull back, you see her chest rise and fall as she steadies her breath, her eyes searching yours for reassurance.

Your hand moves to the clasp of her dress, fingers hesitating for a moment before you look at her once more. “May I?” you ask softly.

She nods, her voice catching slightly. “Yes… I want you to.”

With careful fingers, you undo the clasp and let the fabric slip from her shoulders, revealing the pale skin beneath. The dress pools at her feet, and she stands before you in just her shift, delicate and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker down, shyly avoiding your gaze as you take her in. In turn, she reaches out, her hands trembling slightly as she begins to unlace your doublet. There’s an unspoken agreement between you—a mutual understanding that this moment is as much about trust as it is about desire. You help her with the laces, guiding her hands until your clothing is cast aside, leaving you both bare in the warm glow of the fire.

For a long moment, you simply stand there, your breaths mingling, your eyes tracing the curves and lines of each other’s bodies. There’s a sense of curiosity mixed with reverence, your gazes shyly meeting before drifting again, both of you learning and memorizing the sight of each other.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. Alicent’s breath hitches at the word, her eyes shining as she looks up at you, her lips parting as if to say something, but words fail her. Instead, she just reaches out, fingers brushing over your chest, her touch sending a shiver through you.

You gently take her hand and guide her toward the bed, the furs soft beneath your feet as you lead her down onto the mattress. You lay her down with the utmost care, your eyes never leaving hers, searching for any sign of discomfort. Her lips part as she draws in a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but her gaze is steady, trusting.

You lower yourself beside her, your hand caressing her cheek as you lean in to kiss her again. This time, the kiss is deeper, a gradual melding of lips as you both begin to relax into each other. Your hand trails down, brushing against her collarbone, then lower, until it rests just above her breast. You pause, your eyes flicking to hers for permission, and when she nods slightly, you continue, cupping her breast gently, your thumb brushing over the soft skin. A soft gasp escapes her lips, her back arching slightly as you explore her.

“You’re so beautiful, Alicent,” you murmur against her lips, and she responds with a soft sigh, her hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer.

Your kisses begin to wander, trailing down her jawline, to the tender skin of her neck. You feel her pulse quicken under your lips, her breath growing more uneven as you move lower. When your mouth finds her breast, she gasps, her fingers threading through your hair. You take your time, savoring each reaction, each soft sound she makes as your lips and tongue explore her.

As you move lower, her breath catches, her fingers tightening in your hair when you kiss the curve of her hip. You glance up at her, seeing the mixture of nerves and anticipation in her eyes. She’s never experienced anything like this, and neither have you—not truly. But you remember the lessons Daemon half-teased, half-instructed you on during that one visit to the brothel, showing you the ways of pleasure in a more practical, if unconventional, manner. While you hadn’t partaken that night, you watched, curious, and the knowledge lingers now, guiding your movements.

You press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, and she lets out a soft whimper, her fingers clutching at the furs beneath her. You murmur a line from an old Valyrian poem, the words ancient and filled with meaning, letting the sounds roll off your tongue as your kisses grow more intimate. “Gevives isse tolvie jelevre—beauty in every breath,” you whisper, your breath warm against her skin.

When your mouth finally finds her core, she gasps, her body tensing for a moment before she melts into the sensation, her hips shifting instinctively toward you. Her breath comes in shallow bursts, her hand gripping your shoulder as you apply what you’ve learned, taking your time, listening to the way her body responds. When she lets out a soft moan, her voice trembling with pleasure, you smile against her, murmuring another line from the poem—words of love and devotion that have been passed down through generations.

Slowly, you trail your kisses back up her body, feeling her trembling beneath you. Her hands reach for you, pulling you close, and when your lips find hers again, the kiss is hungry, filled with the taste of her desire and the passion that’s been building between you both.

You position yourself above her, your eyes locked on hers as you ask one last time, “Are you sure, Alicent?”

Her response is a breathless nod, her hand cupping your cheek as she whispers, “I want this. I want you.”

You enter her gently, inch by inch, mindful of her innocence, watching her every expression for any sign of pain. She winces slightly at first, her brow furrowing, but her fingers dig into your back, holding you close as she adjusts. When she finally opens her eyes again, there’s no hesitation, only trust. “Move,” she breathes, her voice barely audible, but full of need.

You start slowly, each movement careful, deliberate, letting her body adjust, her warmth enveloping you. Her breaths come out in soft, quick bursts, her nails dragging lightly across your skin as she holds on to you. The tension in her body gradually gives way to something else, her hips meeting yours in a rhythm that’s both instinctive and hesitant.

As the moments pass, the awkwardness gives way to a deeper connection. The tenderness remains, but passion begins to take root. Alicent’s breath hitches when she wraps her legs around your waist, her hands pulling you closer. You respond to her need, moving with more urgency as she finds her own rhythm, her body moving against yours in a dance that’s both new and timeless.

When she pushes herself up, shifting into your lap, there’s a sudden surge of boldness in her gaze, something wild and free. You guide her movements, your hands steadying her as she takes control, her breathless gasps mingling with your own. The intimacy between you grows not just in the physical connection but in the way you respond to each other’s needs, desires, and unspoken fears. It’s a union forged in trust, love, and the desire to explore the depths of what you share.

Eventually, when the night reaches its quiet peak, you collapse together into the furs, breathless and spent, your limbs entangled as you hold her close. Here, in this moment, there’s only the warmth of her skin against yours, the sound of her steadying breaths, and the knowledge that this is only the beginning of your shared life together.

As sleep slowly claims you both, you press a final kiss to her forehead, murmuring words of love in Valyrian, promising her with every breath that this night is just the start of what you’ll build together.

The sky is a bruised shade of twilight, thick with smoke and ash. The stench of blood, sweat, and salt fills the air as the waves crash against the jagged rocks of the Stepstones. This place is a wasteland—a battlefield stained with the bodies of the dead and dying. For over two years, the Crabfeeder’s men have held these islands, turning them into a butcher’s yard. But today, you intend to end it. Today, the dragons return in fire and fury.

You sit atop Dallax, your black-scaled beast, perched on a ridge overlooking the main encampment of the Triarchy’s forces. His green eyes gleam in the dim light, and his body shifts restlessly beneath you, eager to unleash his wrath. His teeth, hidden within the dark flesh of his jaws, retract only when his rage is stoked—a menace lying in wait. You run a gloved hand along his neck, feeling the raw power coiled within him. “Soon,” you whisper, your voice firm yet laced with anticipation. “We will end this.”

Below, Daemon Targaryen plays his part to perfection. Clad in soot-streaked armor, a white banner clutched in one hand, he approaches the enemy lines. The Crabfeeder’s forces, a mix of hardened sellswords and conscripts, watch from behind their sharpened stakes and crude fortifications, unsure whether this is truly surrender or another of Daemon’s ruses. The Prince of the City moves with a calculated slowness, his steps deliberate, his head lowered just enough to give the impression of defeat. But you know him better. There’s a fire in his eyes—a fury barely contained behind that facade of submission. The plan hinges on this moment, on the Crabfeeder’s arrogance and greed.

From your vantage point, you spot Lord Corlys Velaryon’s forces hidden in the shallows, ready to pounce the moment the trap is sprung. The Sea Snake commands his men with a veteran’s precision, their silence a stark contrast to the braying jeers coming from the Crabfeeder’s ranks.

Daemon finally stops, mere feet from the Crabfeeder’s line, where a grotesque figure emerges from the shadows. Drahar, the Crabfeeder, is a ghastly sight, his face hidden behind a cracked and twisted mask, his skin mottled from disease. He raises a hand, halting the jeers, and for a moment, silence reigns.

Then, chaos erupts.

Daemon’s false surrender is cast aside as he draws Dark Sister in a blur of Valyrian steel, cutting through the nearest soldier in one swift, practiced motion. Blood sprays into the air, catching the dim light as the battlefield roars back to life. The Triarchy’s soldiers charge forward, desperate to claim the prize they believe within reach, but they are rushing headlong into a trap.

It’s your moment.

With a word in Valyrian, you urge Dallax into a dive. His wings unfurl, dark as midnight, blotting out the dying light. The air screams past you as you plummet toward the battlefield, the ground rushing up to meet you. “Dracarys!” you roar, the command slicing through the din of battle.

Dallax responds with a torrent of flame that incinerates everything in its path. The first line of the Crabfeeder’s men is engulfed in a roaring inferno, their screams swallowed by the relentless fire. Armor melts, flesh sizzles, and bone turns to ash in mere moments. You bank sharply, pulling Dallax into another dive, this time focusing on the siege engines positioned along the ridge. The ballistae, meant to keep the dragons at bay, are shattered under the crushing weight of dragonfire and claws. Timber explodes, splinters raining down on the screaming soldiers below as you rip through their defenses with ruthless efficiency.

You catch a glimpse of Daemon, now fully engaged in the melee, his sword a blur of lethal grace as he carves a bloody path through the Triarchy’s forces. He fights with a savage joy, laughing as he dodges and counters, the battlefield his stage. Corlys and his men surge from the shallows, catching the enemy in a brutal pincer. The once-confident soldiers of the Crabfeeder are thrown into disarray, their lines crumbling under the combined might of dragon and steel.

You circle back, eyes locked on Drahar, who attempts to retreat deeper into the labyrinth of stakes and pits his men have constructed. But there’s no escape. You guide Dallax lower, skimming the ground, his claws gouging the earth as you close in on your prey. The Crabfeeder looks up in desperation, his eyes wide behind his mask as he realizes his end is near.

“End him!” Daemon’s voice echoes in your mind like a phantom’s dare, though the words are drowned out by the roar of battle.

Dallax’s jaws snap open, his teeth glinting as they slide out from their hidden sheaths. With a snarl, he lunges, clamping down on Drahar with a sickening crunch. The Crabfeeder’s mask falls away, revealing a twisted visage frozen in terror before his body is torn apart in a spray of blood and gore. Dallax shakes his head, flinging what remains of Drahar’s corpse into the dirt before incinerating it with a final jet of flame.

Around you, the battlefield is a scene of utter carnage. The ground is slick with blood, littered with the hacked remains of soldiers. Men scream, their limbs severed, or burn as they try to flee, only to be cut down by Corlys’s disciplined troops. The cries of the dying are a symphony of suffering, underscored by the relentless roar of flames. Dallax moves among the survivors like a shadow, crushing and burning any who dare to resist.

As the last pockets of resistance are snuffed out, you land amidst the ruins, stepping down from Dallax’s back. You scan the battlefield, taking in the broken fortifications, the piles of charred corpses, and the men who now kneel in surrender. Victory is yours. The Stepstones are won.

Daemon approaches, blood splattered across his armor, a wild grin on his face. “Well done, nephew,” he says, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “I thought I might have all the fun, but you’ve stolen quite the show.” His eyes gleam with shared triumph, the bond between you strengthened through battle and bloodshed. “The Crabfeeder will feast no more.”

You smirk, wiping sweat and grime from your brow. “Someone had to keep you from getting killed. I couldn’t let you take all the glory.”

He laughs, the sound cutting through the dying echoes of the battle. “You’re learning. Perhaps there’s more of me in you than anyone cares to admit.”

As Daemon moves to rally the remaining men, your thoughts drift, carried away on the winds of victory. The image of Alicent appears in your mind—her gentle smile, the way her hand rests on the curve of her belly, swollen with the child she carries. You think of your son, Aegon, barely more than a year old, his bright eyes so full of curiosity. It is for them that you fight, for the future you intend to build, for the family you have claimed as your own.

The taste of blood and ash lingers on your tongue, but underneath it all is the yearning to return to them, to hold Alicent in your arms and feel the soft weight of your son as he rests against your chest. You think of how you will recount this victory to them—how Aegon will listen in awe, his little hands reaching out as if to grasp the tales of dragons and battles. You smile to yourself, imagining the way Alicent will scold you softly for the bloodshed, though you know she will be proud all the same.

“Soon,” you murmur to yourself, the words almost lost in the wind. “Soon I’ll be home.”

But for now, the battle is done, and the Stepstones are yours. The fires burn low as you gaze out over the broken landscape, your thoughts with your family, even as your dragon’s shadow stretches long over the conquered land, a reminder of the price of victory.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd reader insert #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x male reader #hotd x you #hotd alicent #alicent x you #alicent x y/n #alicent x reader #alicent hightower

287 notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 7 months

Text

false god | blaise zabini x reader

song; false god [taylor swift] pairing; blaise zabini x pure-blood!slytherin!fem!reader genre; arranged marriage, angst, hurt comfort, fluff, sort-of-e2l word count; 4,7k timeline; deathly hallows warnings; swearing, references to sex/hook-ups, references to battle injuries, questionable views on muggle-borns summary; you had been betrothed to blaise zabini practically your whole life, and while you moved in the same friend group, he had always avoided you. you tried to understand, you really did, but were you really so undesirable?

happy belated valentine's day!!

masterlist

"they say the road gets hard and you get lost when you're led by blind faith."

——————————————

The ring of plated white gold and emerald jewels had sat comfortably on your left ring finger ever since you had been big enough to wear it. It was worth a fortune, as your parents frequently reminded you, so it would be disrespectful to the Zabini family to not wear it with pride. You obeyed, even though Blaise - your affianced - had not worn his (more masculine) twin ring for as long as you had known him.

Sometimes you would catch the pitying looks of your mutual friends whenever the sun shone just right on the piece of jewellery, catching everyone's attention. They all knew that Blaise avoided you, never spoke to you, but it was an unspoken matter. You did your best to never show your hurt on your face, and be a strong and positive woman, like your parents had raised you to be.

You just wanted to make them proud.

It's not that you were in love with Blaise, not by any means. You would have to have actually spoken and bonded with the man to reach that stage. Regardless, rejection hurt, especially when you had no part in the arrangement of your marriage either. You were in the same position as he was, yet he acted as if you were at fault for the situation he found himself in.

You weren't a bad person, and you were at least decently attractive - was it really so bad to be betrothed to you? Why couldn't he just make the best of a bad situation and try to get to know you?

***

The Hogwarts Express had never been colder, even the warm red seats looked sallow and grey, reflecting the sullen looks on everyone's faces. You let out a sigh, pulling your thick jacket tighter around you and sinking into the cushions. Pansy was sat next to you, chewing on her lip thoughtfully as she stared at the water droplets cascading down the window. You hadn't said a word to each other apart from a greeting.

In fact, everyone on the train seemed to be sitting in silence.

Slytherin was the only house with almost full attendance from its students, as even the families who didn't support the death eaters felt confident in the safety of their children thanks to their blood status. The same couldn't not be said for the other houses, which had lost a good chunk of their students due to parental fears. Especially the muggle-borns - every single muggle-born you knew in your year had not shown up to catch the train.

It wasn't a mystery as to why: showing up to the school that was now overseen by Voldemort as a muggle-born was a death wish.

Despite its pure-blood status, your family didn't support Voldemort. That's not to say that they didn't have prejudices against muggle-borns, or that they would let you marry one, but they certainly didn't wish death upon them and would likely be okay with you befriending them. Just as long as you kept your bloodline pure.

The L/N family had remained a neutral party during the First Wizarding War, and were doing the same now during the second.

"Have you seen Draco?" Pansy asked, not even looking at you.

"I think I saw him at the platform at one point."

She hummed, and the silence fell again.

You began biting your nails.

***

The reign of Severus Snape as headmaster of Hogwarts had officially begun, casting an even more intense shadow over the school. As a Slytherin, this was actually quite good news, but you weren't so selfish that you could disregard the wellbeing of the other houses. Plus, the subject changes like Defence Against the Dark Arts becoming simply- the Dark Arts- were quite jarring.

"Can someone pass me the roast potatoes?" the emotionless voice of your fiancé rang out, signifying that he was talking to you. Normally, when talking to your other friends, he would smile, say please, even laugh. But when he was talking to you, he would do so indirectly and without emotion.

Sure enough, you were the person closest enough to the roast potatoes, but you decided to hold back in fulfilling his request, instead locking eyes with him. "Say please."

His eyes bored into yours for a few moments, before he scoffed and said, "Please."

"Was that so hard?" you mumbled, passing over the potatoes. Your friends had gone silent during the exchange, some of them sending pitiful glances your way. You were sick of being treated this way, both by Blaise and your friends, even if your friends did have good intentions.

You resumed your meal, aiming to at the very least enjoy the food of your last ever welcome feast at Hogwarts.

***

All you knew about Blaise was what your parents and friends had told you.

He was a pure-blood, and the son of a beautiful witch who had been widowed seven times under suspicious circumstances and become richer every time. As far as you could tell, it was highly likely that one of these dead husbands was Blaise's father. Admittedly, it made you nervous to marry into such a family, so perhaps it was a good thing that Blaise was so unwilling.

But your mother had told you that you had nothing to worry about, as Ms. Zabini only ever married bad men, and used it as a means to eradicate them.

"A noble cause."

Still, you had the rights to be nervous.

"Back to school party tonight," Millicent bounced up to you and announced, "Just us Slytherins."

"A party?" you had forgotten that such an event existed, given the misery of the world.

"I mean, yeah, we all need a pick-me-up," she shrugged, "It'll be in the common room. Bring firewhiskey."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but ultimately decided that drunkenness was just what the doctor ordered.

***

In your defence, you had started off slow with the drinks, mixing with lemonade and gradually sipping over a long period of time. However, once that system had (slowly but surely) gotten you drunk, all bets were off.

"Shots!" someone had shouted, and next thing you knew you were downing your sixth shot, after however many mixed drinks you had.

You stumbled away from the dancers to where some of your friends sat chatting, having the sudden feeling that you weren't too far away from passing out.

"Pansy..." you slurred, flopping on to the sofa next to her.

"Salazar, Y/N, how much have you drunk?"

Ignoring her question, you mumbled, "I feel amazing."

"A little self-control next time, yeah?"

You waved her off, no longer feeling like you were about to pass out so stumbling to your feet. You looked around the room with your eyes squinted, deciding that another drink was an excellent idea.

As you were on your way over - your friends calling after you - your vision became blurrier, until you bumped into a hard chest.

"What the fuck?" you cursed, narrowing your eyes and looking up at the person who inconvenienced you.

"Zabini," you muttered.

"Should you be getting another drink?" he asked.

You blanked him, "Does it kill you to be nice to me?"

He said nothing, biting on his inner cheek.

That was when the feeling of passing out returned, only this time in tenfold, making you drop forward. Your eyelids were heavy, you had to close them, and your body was heavy too, too much effort to remain stood up...

The only things you remember seeing after that were flashes of the stairs down to the dormitories - but you weren't walking, so how was that possible? And then throwing up in a toilet bowl, with your hair for some reason out of the way.

And then cushions, and quilt. But not yours: they smelled gorgeous, so you nuzzled your head into the scent and sighed dreamily.

***

When your eyes slowly peeled themselves open the next morning, your head was pounding and you were quite disoriented. Initially, you seemed to be tucked up in your own bed, but upon closer inspection you realised that the forest green decor was not in the usual place of the Slytherin seventh year girls' dormitories. In fact, this was a room that you had never seen before.

"You're up."

Your eyes shot towards the entrance to the connected bathroom, and every limb in your body froze as you laid eyes upon Blaise Zabini, already showered and dressed even though it was a Saturday.

"What- I-" you stuttered, sitting up in bed. You were relieved to see that you were still in the party clothes from the night before: you weren't opposed to a hook-up, but you would've liked to remember it.

"Relax," he sighed, "You blacked out last night. Carried you down here because I can't go down the girls' stairs."

You nodded slowly, trying to piece together the events, "Right..."

He said nothing, moving over to the dresser to spray a fragrance on his wrists. He truly was your typical classy rich boy. You took this opportunity to look around at the other beds in the room, seeing that the curtains were drawn around one in particular.

"Your beloved Pansy is in there."

Salazar, had she and Draco had sex while you were sleeping in the same room?

"At the very least they put a sound-proofing charm on," Blaise confirmed that thought, and you couldn't help but remark that this was the most he had ever spoken to you.

"Where did you sleep?" you had to ask.

This time, Blaise blanked you, his dark oak eyes void of emotion.

"Next to you," he eventually said, making your breath hitch. "Like we're not engaged, L/N," he scoffed, making you scowl.

"Since when have you acted like it?"

He didn't reply, and you decided that if you let it escalate to an argument, you might wake up the others. So, you forced yourself out of bed, picking up your shoes and leaving without another word.

Walk of shame, here you come.

***

Typically, if one of the girls in your dorm stumbled in the morning after a party in their clothes from the night before, there would be immediate questions of what happened and with who. But, when you entered your dorm, you were met with silence. Partially because half of the girls were still asleep, but mainly because the girls who were awake avoided looking at you.

Daphne was the only one forward enough to say something. "I saw Blaise carry you down."

To be fair, that would explain the lack of questions about hook-ups. They hadn't suspected that the two of you had sex. You simply hummed in response, just wanting to strip yourself of your clothes and makeup and crawl under your own duvet.

But Daphne still wasn't forward enough to ask if that meant your engagement had become a less cold one, as that would be entering the territory of the unspoken agreement to never mention the elephant in the room of Blaise's unwarranted disdain for you.

So, you were able to settle into a new slumber unhindered.

***

The party had been a pleasant but unfortunately temporary distraction from the miserable atmosphere that was Hogwarts. Learning the dark arts made you feel dirty, unclean - like you were announcing to the whole world that you were a death eater. You knew you weren't, and that you would never receive the Dark Mark, but you couldn't help but feel like a bad person.

You knew, however, that being a Slytherin meant the other houses looked at you with disdain, and also that many of your friends weren't entirely opposed to the Dark Lord's cause. It was something that made you sick to your stomach, yet you refused to voice these thoughts to anyone.

Not even Christmas could cheer you up, when before the colourfully decorated castle walls had filled you with a joy like no other. It didn't even feel like Christmas, it was as if all the saturation in the world had been lost, leaving behind a cold, dull grey hue. You had never been so sure of the fact that you would go home for Christmas than you were that year. At least your home wasn't shadowed by the rule of Voldemort, even if it was a tad cold and empty.

"I'll see you in the new year, yeah?" Daphne said to you, pulling you into a hug, "Have a good Christmas."

"You too," you returned the embrace, "And happy new year."

She smiled at you, and that was when you caught sight of Blaise in the corner of your eye. You hadn't spoken since the events of the Slytherin party, primarily because you had avoided him. But, he was walking towards you.

"Merry Christmas," he said monotonously, and Daphne took that as her cue to disappear.

"Merry Christmas," you said curtly back, picking up your trunk as you prepared to get off the train.

"Our families are having dinner together over the holiday."

You hesitated in your movements upon hearing that, but decided against replying, instead leaving him stood there with an expressionless face.

***

It wasn't that your parents didn't love you or care for you by any means, you knew that if you refused to marry Blaise Zabini they wouldn't disown you. But, they were raised with certain values and customs, and you had been raised into them as well. You wanted to make them proud - you just wished that the husband they had picked for you was a more willing participant in the arrangement.

So, when Blaise Zabini and his recently widowed (for the millionth time) mother arrived on your doorstep, the smile on your face wasn't entirely false. There were some truth to your emotions, despite the current state of the world.

"As you know, Blaise and Y/N are in their final year of Hogwarts," Ms Zabini spoke proudly once you were all sat around your dining table, "I believe it's time we start planning the wedding."

"I couldn't agree more," your mother replied, "It should be an elegant affair."

"That goes without saying."

You chewed on your lip.

"Y/N, what colour theme would you like?" your mother asked.

Your breath hitched, as you tried to scrape together a daydream of your dream wedding.

"Maybe pastel green?" you suggested timidly, "Since we're both Slytherins."

Ms Zabini nodded her head approvingly, "Is that agreeable to you, Blaise?"

The man shrugged, "Whatever Y/N wants."

"That makes things easy," the widow said, "It shall be a wonderful event."

***

After dinner, your collective parents had left you and Blaise to your own devices, suggesting that you show him your room. Part of you was surprised they were allowing a boy into your bedroom with no supervision, but you supposed some formalities were wavered due to your engagement to be married.

Blaise snorted when he entered your room: covered in moving posters and animated Lego sets, your four poster bed being pink and frilly with enchanted butterfly decor all around the wood.

"It's a bit mismatched," he said simply.

"It's home."

He raised an eyebrow at that, and silence consumed the both of you. The tension that hung in the air was thick, making you feel like you would go insane if you didn't say something.

"I'm not that bad, you know."

Blaise turned to face you from where he was sat at your desk, meanwhile you had perched on the end of your bed.

"I get that being tied to someone not of your choosing is a bit suffocating - believe me, I know - but you could make it easier for yourself by actually trying to get to know me."

"I do know you."

You rolled your eyes, "You know what I mean, Blaise," his first name was a foreign taste on your tongue, "You could have a worse wife than me."

He appeared to ponder your words for a while, stewing in the dampening tension of the atmosphere meanwhile you anxiously awaited his response. It was as if every action he took was intentional in making your nerves spike.

"The truth is, Y/N, I resent you."

You sat, stunned.

"My freedom to choose has been taken away from me."

Your blood boiled, making you stand up, "And I'm to blame for that? I'm in the same situation as you are, you knobhead."

He said nothing.

"I wasn't the one who made the decision. Stop acting like you're the only one here who's having a hard time."

Blaise went to open his mouth, but you carried on.

"Not to mention, there are people out there dying in the war right now," you vaguely gestured towards the window, "You should count your lucky stars that the biggest problem in your life is having to marry me!"

You scoffed, watching as he stared wide-eyed at you. After you realised he had nothing to say, you left the room to head down to the kitchens. Salazar, you needed a cup of hot chocolate after that whole ordeal.

***

The dark grey clouds cast a grim shadow over the once buzzing atmosphere of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and they only seemed to get gloomier by the day. It was all you could do to stand on the sheltered bridge as you watched rain pour down, even though it was meant to be Spring. The mood of the wizarding world had always had a strange effect on the weather.

Your gloveless fingers were beginning to grow numb in the cold, but you didn't move, nor make any attempt to warm them up. You just wish that you could say that your low mood was for something as selfless as the current danger muggle-borns were in. But, no, you were egotistically thinking about your own qualms - i.e. your upcoming wedding with a man who hardly looked your way.

Ever since the argument at Christmas, he had gone back to disregarding your existence, apart from the few occasions you would catch him staring at you when he thought no one was watching. Aside from that, both your mother and his were frequently owling you about decisions for the wedding, which was making the whole ordeal seem a lot more real than it did before.

"L/N," the last voice that you expected to hear called out from beside you.

Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to turn around, as if you were paralysed.

"You'll freeze to death out here," he spoke again, this time closer to you, "Everyone's wondering where you are."

Slowly, you turned your head to look at Blaise Zabini, your sallow eyes boring into his.

"They're looking everywhere for you."

"Tell them I'm fine," you eventually spoke.

"I don't think you are, though," he sighed, "You look like you're one minute away from hypothermia."

You shrugged, "Nothing magic medicine can't fix."

Blaise rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand, "Fuck, you're like ice."

That was when he started dragging you back to the castle, and you didn't have the energy to resist at all.

"What are you doing out here, anyway?"

You scoffed, "Like you couldn't guess."

He didn't reply to that statement, instead saying, "We're getting you warmed up."

He sat you in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room, wrapping a forest green blanket around you and placing a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hand. Your friends gathered around you, asking questions about where you had been and if you were okay, but you replied to none of them. Eventually, Blaise urged them all to give you space, letting out a sigh in the process.

Your heart twisted, and you attempted to suppress the pain by sipping on the drink.

It burnt your tongue.

"Careful," Blaise murmured, sitting on the sofa behind you.

You didn't even have the energy to scowl.

"We have our NEWTs soon, you have to take care of yourself."

That wasn't the only thing you had soon.

"You don't have to pretend like you care," you eventually forced out between chattering teeth.

You paused - waiting for him to say something. Anything. Part of you was praying to the gods above that he would say he wasn't pretending, that he did truly care. Instead, his silence was deafening, and your heart twisted and turned all that more. Why couldn't you just hate him?

Who would have thought it would be such a curse to have feelings for your fiancé?

***

Dust swarmed your senses, wrenching at your lungs and causing you to cough horrifically like you were a seasoned chainsmoker; you could barely see a metre ahead of you, and it was all you could do to shield your eyes with your arm as you progressed forwards. Through the crumbles and cracks, you could hear yells of Latin, thrown aggressively and with raw passion that had your blood spiking.

As far as you could tell, you were still in the dungeons - but you needed to get out of them, as they appeared on the verge of collapsing. You hadn't particularly engaged in any duels yourself, both because you were a coward, and because you lacked duelling skills. However, you had aided some students against the death eaters here and there on your progression through the castle.

You couldn't take a completely neutral stance like your parents.

You coughed harder, spluttering as your feet found stairs and began to climb up them - stumbling, but not falling.

"Help," a strained voice called out, making you assess the situation around you as best you could. As you inched further towards the left, you could make out the figure of someone stuck under rubble halfway up the staircase. You moved even closer.

"Blaise?" you croaked out.

A groan.

"Fuck," you mumbled, quickly muttering a spell to lift the rubble off of him. You saw the blood staining his clothes and gasped.

"It snapped my wand," he said, wincing as he tried to move.

You did your best to help him up, letting him rest his weight on your shoulders as you continued to push up the stairs.

"The dungeons are about to collapse," you said, carefully navigating your way around the corner once you finished the stairs.

"The whole-" he groaned, "-castle is."

You grimaced, "You need a healer."

But getting to the makeshift hospital ward without getting caught up in a duel would be quite a challenge. Then, it suddenly hit you.

"Which side are you on?" you quickly asked.

He scoffed, "Which side do you think? I'm still here." He then hunched over with an even louder groan than before, you swiftly moved to support his weight more.

Most Slytherin students who were either neutral or on the side of the death eaters had abandoned Hogwarts instead of staying to fight. You were a coward, but you would never have been able to forgive yourself if you had left. Instead, you found yourself stuck in the dungeons, some way, somehow.

"You stayed to fight," you murmured.

He went to say something, but another sharp pain coursed through him.

"Fuck," you cursed.

***

By some miracle, you reached the hospital ward with minimal further damage, and managed to get Blaise seen to instantly. You were amazed that they didn't question two Slytherin students being on their side, but you supposed it made sense: they were the good guys.

As you watched them take his shirt off to assess the damage, a glimmer of something against his chest caught your eye. It was connected to a thin silver chain that dangled around his neck, showing slight signs of wear and tear, implying he didn't even take it off when showering. When your vision cleared, you realised that the shimmery object along the chain was none other than the white gold band of green jewels that was the matching pair to the ring on your finger.

A lump caught in your throat, "You're wearing it," you choked out.

Blaise's eyes were shut, but he smiled tiredly, "Always."

Tears pricked at your eyes.

***

Eventually, what would be known as the infamous Battle of Hogwarts ceased fire: Lord Voldemort had fallen at the hands of Harry Potter. But there weren't cheers.

There was only devastation.

The wreck that the once majestic Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had become, and the subsequent deaths of thousands of kind-hearted people who had so much life to live. It was the epitome of bittersweet to watch people going around clearing up after the battle. You were grateful to be among the living, sat next to Blaise as he slept restlessly on a mat on the floor.

There wasn't really anyone else for you to talk to in the aftermath after all: Slytherins were quite isolated from the other houses, and hardly any Slytherins had stayed.

You allowed yourself the luxury of taking Blaise's hand in your own and squeezing it gently, letting a solitary tear cascade down your cheek. Was it relief? Was it hope? Was it happiness? Or was it sadness? Melancholia? Regret?

You didn't know, you simply allowed the feeling to wash over you.

"I didn't stay to fight," Blaise said out of nowhere, his voice gruff and quiet.

"Hm?"

"I stayed because you stayed."

Your heart jolted at his words, "Really?"

"Of course," he peeled his eyes open, "'Til death do us part."

You squeezed his hand again, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you act like you hated me?"

He sighed, appearing to be gathering as much energy together as he could, "I resented you, yes, but I- I was also scared of hurting you. You know what everyone thinks of my mother - that she's a-" he coughed, "-serial killer. Killing her husbands."

You admired his smooth face, despite its cuts and gashes.

"I was scared of becoming her, and I didn't want that to be your fate."

You reached out a hand to graze his prominent cheekbone, letting the tiniest of smiles tug at your lips.

"We'll be okay, Blaise," you murmured softly, "You're not like her."

He smiled slightly, wincing in the process. "No arranged marriages for our kids?"

You nodded, "No arranged marriages for our kids."

***

Your parents walked either side of you as you made your way down the grassy aisle, the summer heat blazing down on to the prettily flowered meadow. In your hands was a bouquet of white and pastel green peonies, and on your figure was a gorgeous princess ball gown that cost a small fortune. All your family and friends were stood up from their seats, gazing at your every move. Blaise, proudly stood at the altar in a black suit with a mint coloured waistcoat, was no exception. His eyes were trained into yours, making your heart flip tenfold.

Meeting him in front of the officiant, you passed your bouquet off to Pansy before allowing yourself to truly smile in your fiancé's presence. He took your hands into his and squeezed ever so slightly, as the officiant began to speak.

It felt like forever before the vows.

"I, Mr Blaise Zabini, promise to take Miss Y/N L/N to be my wife, and to love and cherish her, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part."

He slipped the ring on to your finger, where it settled above your engagement ring.

The attention was then on you.

"I, Miss Y/N L/N, promise to take Mr Blaise Zabini to be my husband, and to love and cherish him, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part." You pushed the larger ring on to his finger.

"I now, by the power vested in me, pronounce you husband and wife."

Blaise swooped down to kiss you warmly on the lips as cheers erupted from the crowd, and you found yourself smiling into his lips.

"I love you," he whispered. Words he had never spoken before.

"I love you too."

'Til death do us part.

—————————————

masterlist

written; 27/12/2023 —> 15/02/2024 published; 16/02/2024 edited; —/—/——

207 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 10 months

Note

i watched spto and i'm down bad for matthew patel now so uh- can i request platonic matthew patel x reader where reader works at gman media and they become friends with him after he realizes just how out of his depth running the place and just like breaks down to the nearest person that he has no idea what he's doing?

Oufh I gotta admit the same thing-

......

Being a custodian at G-Man Media certainly wasn't the job you hoped for, but at least it was a job that paid well...better than anything McDonalds could have provided.

And of course, that's only because it used to be run by gazillionaire Gideon Graves.

Yes. Used to.

There was a huge change in management that literally happened overnight--as your boss was defeated in battle by Matthew Patel, and he became the CEO of pretty much everything the former had.

The two record labels, fourteen animal shelters, movie studio, etc. etc. were now all his for the taking.

Never in a million years would you imagine that this theater-obsessed punk who was Ramona's first evil ex-boyfriend would be able to overthrow the G-Man himself.....and yet he won.

Of course, the aforementioned battle they had resulted in some serious damages and a lot of repairs having to be done in several rooms and floors. But if anything you were just relieved Matthew chose to disband the League of Evil Exes. You didn't have to clean up all their messes or fix anything Luke, Todd, or the twins' robot might have broken.

Even better was that Gideon wasn't around to nitpick at every little thing anymore.

That was a huge upside for you.

On the downside, however...your new boss was somehow both better and worse than him.

Matthew was thrown into such a tough role so quickly, and while he seemingly had everything under control with his demon hipster chicks becoming his agents.....sometimes he just looked lost.

Sure, he seemed to like shouting out orders and getting escorts in fancy helicopters, but when it came down to actual business stuff, he kept asking his employees about different things--even painfully obvious things.

You've never talked to him much even before this, although you usually keep to yourself and don't really speak unless spoken to. But you can tell he's struggling to maintain his image.

Still, you don't wanna say anything that might anger him or get you fired.

And besides, he had mystical powers that were ten times cooler than anything Gideon ever had, so pissing him off would be most unwise.

.......

It's late in the evening when you're heading to your final stop before getting to go home: Matthew's office.

He didn't say anything in particular had to be repaired, although you figured there was no harm in double-checking things. For all you know, the TV's wiring might need to be fixed or a screw in the table might've come loose.

Hopefully he didn't mind. You're usually in and out of there by the time he returns from whatever business trip he attended.

Yet upon entering his office, you stood in your tracks upon seeing that he was there, sitting all alone....apparently brooding and monologuing to himself. You were used to seeing him doing that sort of thing.

But this time something seemed...off.

Even his demon agents were concerned and looked grateful you showed up, immediately stepping aside so you could walk in further, hearing his mumbling become more coherent.

"What am I doing with my life? This isn't what I went to college for..."

"Mr. Patel, sir?" You called out cautiously. "Is everything okay?"

"....no, actually. Everything is NOT okay!" Slamming his hands onto the table, he stared up at you from across the table, taking a moment to identify you. You could see how exhausted and bloodshot his eyes were, along with his eyeliner looking more smudged. "You're the custodian, right...[y/n], was it?"

You blinked, surprised he remembered your name. "Correct. I was just-"

"Look, [y/n]..I've been feeling really awful lately and I just need to....get some stuff off my chest. And since you're the only one here right now, you get to listen to me." He then pointed to a chair near him. "Sit, and don't you dare tell anyone what we've discussed, capiche?"

Even though the clock was ticking close to the time you went home, concern over your boss' mental stability took priority over everything else at that moment. So you listened to his demand and took a seat, remaining silent and patient.

As Matthew slumped back into his chair, his whole expression shifted into one of sadness, as though he just lost his best friend. "I'm....not cut out for this job..." He confessed. "This isn't what I envisioned myself doing."

"I imagine it's been difficult. But for the record, you've only been doing this for-"

"I've already lost this company billions of dollars."

You blinked. "Billions, sir?"

"Yes, billions! You know, I-I only defeated Gideon Graves in battle because he would have taken my life if he won. And for a while it felt good to have all of his fame and fortune.......but now it....i-it just sucks! The paperwork never stops, I can barely catch a break, I don't know any of the computer passwords, and I don't even like wearing this stupid suit!!" Laying his head on the table, he banged his fist against it, choking back tears. "I'm a theater major..not a business major, damn it!"

'Poor Matthew..' You frowned slightly. "If all of this is so overwhelming, maybe you could-"

"No." He quickly sat up, his face darkening with a deep scowl. "I am NOT giving anything back to that lying scumbag! Besides, we have a legally binding contract that states all his properties are mine! That means permanently! Forever!"

"My apologies, sir..i-it was only a suggestion." You put your hands up, feeling tense especially as his demons were now frowning at you. "I know you've been under a lot of pressure lately...and there's no shame in admitting that."

Matthew blinked. "You've noticed?"

"I have." You nodded. "I mean..a lot of people go to college for one thing and suddenly wind up in an entirely different field. I know my opinion may not matter much, but...I think you're doing a great job despite your lack of experience."

He shrunk back, no longer looking angry but rather...guilty?

"Thank you.." He sighed. "I'm sorry for never saying this, but you've been a huge help cleaning up after all our messes when we had the League of Evil Exes. So..you better give yourself a little credit, too."

Now it was your turn to be flattered, as you smiled and chuckled. "Thank you, Mr. Patel. I appreciate that."

"Uh-huh..and there's something else, too.."

"And what would that be?"

"....I only refuse to throw in the towel because this company can give me the funds necessary to make the Scott Pilgrim musical a reality." He confessed.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow. "A musical based off of that guy you killed?"

"Yes. But apparently he's alive. Ramona told me."

"....I see-"

"BUT as soon as the production takes off, I may or may not return some of Gideon's empire to him. I'm sure that asshole is scheming to reclaim it as we speak..." He grumbled, his attitude turning sour again.

You thought about what you could say to cheer him up without patronizing him...but fortunately that wasn't too hard to figure out.

"I wouldn't worry about him. May I ask who you'll be starring as in the musical?" You rested your arms on the table, smirking as you saw the way Matthew's eyes lit up.

"Why, of course!" With a wide grin, he jumped up onto the table, dramatically posing. "I will be the main character: Scott Pilgrim!! I vow to delight and entertain people everywhere!" He laughed, before he stopped and stared down at you. "[Y/n], may I show you a presentation of my many one-man shows? They've all prepared me for this moment and I'd love your opinion on them."

"Sure." Shrugging, you smiled and leaned back in your seat. "I'm getting paid overtime for this, right?"

His face fell flat. "...I'm supposed to give you guys overtime?"

"Well...Gideon never did, but--nevermind." You shook your head. "You can roll the footage."

His grin returned as he snapped his fingers, causing the room to darken and the TV to come to life, showing off one of his many recorded performances.

It was a two hour long video, but entertaining nonetheless. You recognized a lot of the songs and were impressed by all his method acting.

It's no wonder he made such a convincing CEO.

After that, he finally allowed you to go home with a promise to give you overtime....although not before he exchanged phone numbers with you as thanks for being his unofficial therapist for the day.

He claims it's so he can update you on the musical's progress and "other business stuff", as he put it.

But he kept calling you on your days off to talk, insisting you referred to him as Matthew instead. "Mr. Patel" was slowly starting to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

You didn't mind it, though.

At this point, you accepted the fact that you became your boss' first (and possibly only) friend.

Maybe after he surrenders the G-Man empire for good, that friendship can continue.

#clanask #anonymous #scott pilgrim x reader #scott pilgrim takes off x reader #spto x reader #matthew patel #matthew patel x reader #platonic

167 notes · View notes

ace-touya · 7 months

Text

Present Mic Family Headcanons!

I headcanon that Hizashi’s parents got a divorce when he was in middle school, his mum got custody, and they moved house and he moved schools.

It was in that new middle school where he met Oboro, who was his first friend in a long while because he was kind of a loner in his previous school too because people found him annoying and weird.

He has two older twin sisters, Setsuko and Sara. All threw of them have really bad eyesight and wear glasses. They also all have the Voice quirk, and inherited from their dad. Their mum, whose quirk is being able to see colours that humans can’t see, sees a lot of her ex-husband in her children - especially Setsuko, the older twin.

Sara is the younger twin but she’s more mature. She’s a hopeless romantic, had a job as a waitress when Hizashi was a teenager, and was parentified, taking care of her siblings a lot. Her and Hizashi are inseparable, and he gets his sense of humour from her.

He gets his fashion sense from Setsuko, who was a lot less responsible than Sara, despite being older. She was kinda the problem child and moved out as soon as she got the chance, cutting contact with her mum and only keeping minimal contact up with her siblings. She’s the lead guitarist in Deep Dope, the band Kyouka likes.

Hizashi’s quirk is the strongest out of all the Voice quirk users in his family as he’s the only one who put effort into training the ability.

Setsuko and Sara both met Shouta and Oboro, and attended Oboro’s funeral with Hizashi. Sara absolutely adores Shouta, and cried at their wedding. Setsuko isn’t a particularly big fan of Shouta but she’s glad Hizashi is happy with him.

They’ve both met Hitoshi, and both adore him. Sara’s contact name for him is ‘Mini-Shou’. It was actually Hizashi’s idea to adopt him. Setsuko hasn’t met Eri yet, and all she knows about her is the very minimal amount of information Hizashi’s spoken about on his podcast and radio show, which is just really small stories - he hasn’t even revealed her name online.

On his podcast Hizashi has also mentioned a third child, one who isn’t his biologically or legally, but is his kid emotionally. Setsuko has no idea that he’s the same child who she’s seen news headlines about - the ‘UA first year kidnapped by the League of Villains’, or the ‘Middle Schooler survived Sludge Villain’. Sara’s met him in person though, and Katsuki’s anger issues reminds her a lot of her twin.

#hizashi yamada #present mic #erasermic family #rooftop trio #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #mha headcanons #eraserhead #shouta aizawa #erasermic #oboro shirakumo #hitoshi shinso #eri mha #bnha #mha

80 notes · View notes

tideswept · 3 months

Note

(gently opens your door)

Have you ever written the *gasp* "OH NO THERE'S ONLY ONE BED" trope? Absolutely biased, because this is my favourite trope of all time. 😇

I haven't! And I'd like to hear what makes it your favorite trope! Never been one that caught my eye, honestly, but, HMMMMMM if I were to write it...

ohohoho. I got it.

I'd make Anakin and Obi-Wan ex-lovers. Divorce AU. They have to attend the twin's graduation (the twins live with Padme) and Anakin was already going, of course he was, those are his children, he's so proud of them, but UNBEKNOWNST to him, the twins think the whole situation is sad and plead Obi-Wan to come, too.

Since it's a last minute thing for Obi-Wan, but like hell he's going to miss this, he tries to get a hotel room but ooops! everything is booked SOLID in town.

So the twins appeal to Padme who goes "I gotchu babes" because she ALSO sees that Anakin is just a sadsack pretending to not be a sadsack even three years after the divorce, and puts them in the same room. Where they have to share a bed.

Anakin: What Padme: Well, you always told me it was a civil separation. Can't you be civil and coexist in one room for a couple of days? For your kids? Anakin: I know what you're doing and I'm going to get you back for this. Padme: :) :) :)

So there they are. Probably haven't seen each other in person since the last day in court. Haven't spoken in over a year. (Padme purposefully gives them the SMALLEST room in the house, so one of them sleeping on the floor isn't even really feasible.)

And there's lots of stiff nods and hellos and awkward silences when they're finally alone together, away from the party and shouting and the laughter. Obi-Wan has more gray in his hair, more lines around his mouth; Anakin just got his first gray hair, which he ripped out instantly, but now, looking at this beautiful man that used to be his, he feels foolish about it.

To their credit, they manage to successfully walk on the eggshells long enough to get into bed, both of them starting off at the very edges. It hurts, because it reminds them of how the last few months of their marriage went. The cold wall of silence.

(By morning, they're sleeping so tightly wrapped up in each other that it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.)

#asks #dark--whisperings #obikin #look i had to get my angst in #you know me #why did they break up?#no idea #maybe obi-wan worked too much and anakin got antsy and immature about it #widening gap #miscommunication #resentment #all of that

44 notes · View notes

bumblesimagines · 2 years

Text

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 8

Request: Yes or No

~~~

The dark gray skies and cold weather greatly reflected the somber mood hanging over everyone. Sunlight peeked through the clouded skies, shining down on those gathered but more specifically on the stone casket of the beloved Laena Velaryon. There was no body, however, as the young mother had screamed for her dragon to save her from the very fate that befell Queen Aemma and thus had been reduced to ashes. But Lady Laena hadn't been the only one (Y/N) Hightower and Rhaenyra Targaryen mourned.

In an almost cruel joke, Ser Harwin Strong and his father had also been reduced to mere ashes in their very home. And while (Y/N) and his sons wished to attend the funeral, Rhaenyra rejected the idea as it would only bring more attention to them. (Y/N)'s departure with the princess had fueled more rumors at court despite Queen Alicent planting her own seeds and their father's return to court as Hand of the King. The last thing Rhaenyra wished for her family were more rumors, more doubts seeping into the minds of her young children.

"We join today at the Seat of the Sea to commit the Lady Laena of House Velaryon to eternal waters, the dominion of the Merling King where He will guard her for all days to come. As she sets to sea for her final voyage, the Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore." The uncle of the late Laena, Vaemond Velaryon, spoke softly as the casket of his niece was prepared by knights, gaze settled solely on Daemon. The Velaryons, apart from Vaemond who wore black and gold, were clad in dark shades of blue and black. Laena's daughters, Baela and Rhaena Velaryon wept in the arms of their grandmother. Continuing, Vaemond turned his sharp gaze onto Jace and Luke. "Though their mother will not return from her voyage, salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin."

Giggling from Daemon broke the solemn silence, eyes turning in his direction as his shoulders shook. The Velaryons glared at him but nonetheless remained silent, looking back at the casket as the knights pulled on the ropes to push it toward the ocean. "My gentle niece. May the winds be as strong as your back, your seas as calm as your spirit, and your nets be as full as your heart. From the sea we came. To the sea we shall return." Vaemond finished as the casket plunged into the depths of the dark water.

Finally breaking his gaze away from the waves, (Y/N) turned his head and met his fathers' eyes. Otto hadn't changed much over the years other than his ever-so-slowly graying hair. There were more wrinkles on his face but his deep-set frown and hardened eyes remained. (Y/N) couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to his father but he knew the conversation had been far from civil as always. However, it didn't stop a certain longing from developing in his chest. It'd been many years since he last felt the comforting touch of a parent and despite his age, he wished for nothing more than to collapse into the arms of his mother or father. But (Y/N) hadn't been granted the unconditional love of a father, far from it. His father's love changed as quickly as tides and (Y/N) had long stopped caring about meeting his expectations.

The crowd began to disperse with the funeral officially over. King Viserys had been given time to depart first with his wife and Hand, followed closely by the Velaryons and the others. Guests scattered around Hide Tide, sipping on drinks and eating the few snacks provided whilst they chatted or lingered around alone. (Y/N) joined the others on a large balcony overlooking the sea and looked out at the distant waves. He could feel stares burning into the back of his head, most likely his father and sister, but the chances of them approaching him in public were low. He'd betrayed the Hightower name by having bastard children and then dragged it through the mud by abandoning his twin sister.

"Uncle." A soft voice greeted from behind and (Y/N) turned, facing his nephew. Aemond offered a small timid smile and stepped closer, peering over the stone to take a glance at the sea. "Mother misses you terribly, Uncle."

"I miss her as well, Aemond." (Y/N) sighed tiredly, looking toward his sister and meeting her gaze.

"Then, come home. You can return with us when we depart."

"I'm afraid the Red Keep is not my home." (Y/N) responded, looking back down at the silver-haired prince. Aemond's pale brows furrowed and he tilted his head, fingers toying with the side of his dark green hood.

"Mother says you were raised there."

"Yes, we were." The older man confirmed with a nod, reaching out a hand to brush his fingers through Aemond's hair. "But the place you were born or raised in does not have to be your home. A home is somewhere, or someone, that makes you feel safe and loved, and wanted. The Red Keep has never felt like home for me and that's perfectly fine."

"Then... You're my home." Aemond looked up at his uncle and (Y/N) chuckled softly, patting the top of his head before dropping his hand to his side. Noticing the way Aemond's eyes followed his hand, he glanced down and spotted the ring the boy eyed. With a small smile, (Y/N) crouched down and slipped the ring off his finger, offering it to him. Aemond blinked, glancing between the ring and his uncle before hesitantly taking it into his hands.

"It's a sapphire." (Y/N) murmured. "One of my favorite gems."

"I can have it? Even if it's your favorite?"

"Consider it a gift from your favorite uncle." (Y/N) answered playfully, hearing Aemond giggle softly. The boy slid the ring into his pocket and stepped forward, arms wrapping around (Y/N)'s neck. (Y/N) rubbed his nephew's back, leaning back when Aemond pulled away and watching him weave through the crowd to show his mother his new ring. The Hightower stood up, looking away from the two when Alicent looked up at him. (Y/N) briefly met Daemon's gaze, a smirk toying on the prince's lips despite having just lost his wife.

"Have you seen Laenor?" Rhaenyra's voice reached his ears as she appeared at his side, momentarily eyeing her uncle. She turned her back to him and looked at her lover, a hint of worry swirling in her light eyes. The setting sun casted a warm glow on her face.

"He's just lost his sister, Nyra. He's most likely drowning in wine somewhere in the castle."

"Even more so a reason to find him," Rhaenyra muttered quietly, attempting to avoid drawing even more attention as she glanced around at the other guests. "You know how he is when he's had too much to drink."

"Well-"

"Retrieve your patron." Corlys' voice hissed through the crowd and when the couple turned, they spotted him with a hand tightly gripping Ser Qarl Correy, Laenor's lover. Releasing his hold after being coaxed by his brother, Corlys glared down at the knight and watched him leave to find Laenor before he could rain fury down on them.

"Problem solved. If you'll excuse me, I'm going for a walk. I've had enough of people's stares for today." (Y/N) exhaled heavily and stepped away from Rhaenyra, making his way through the crowd and toward the stairs, but before he could reach them, a body stepped in front of him. One glance at the pin proudly resting on their chest told him enough.

"Father."

"Son." A stoic exchange between the two but neither had expected tears and hugs at their inevitable reunion. Clasping his hands behind his back, (Y/N) tilted his chin up and finally looked at his father up close after the many years that had passed. How he wished the old man had remained in Oldtown. But Otto would be a vulture until his death, searching for power wherever he could find it and with the death of the Strongs, the position for Hand had fallen right back into Otto's lap. (Y/N) had no doubt Alicent helped convince the king.

"I see you've left King's Landing. I was surprised to hear you did so without telling your sister. Were you afraid she'd convince you otherwise?"

"Queen Alicent wasn't informed because her husband was and I assumed he would've eventually informed her of this. It appears he chose not to until we were already at Dragonstone." (Y/N) answered, giving a light shrug. Narrowing his eyes, the older man opened his mouth to speak but (Y/N) moved around him and headed down the stairs, sparing a glance at his eldest nephew who lay at the bottom of the stairs with a cup in hand. The stairs took him to the beach and he walked alongside the water, feeling the sand tug at his legs with every step, not that he noticed when his body had grown sluggish over the days. Every time he tried to sleep, he'd be plunged into a sea of memories and reminders of what he'd lost.

"Fuck." (Y/N) cursed, feeling the tears prick at his eyes. Feelings of regret and guilt erupted in his chest, his mind cursing at him relentlessly. He knew if his sister hadn't planted the rumors at court, their beloved Harwin would've lived. And as much as he wished to cast the thought away, he knew she had something to do with his death. How he desired to turn back time and properly say his goodbyes to Harwin. But as he climbed the sandy hills and reached more sturdy ground, he knew there was no point in wallowing in the 'what ifs' that plagued his mind. Being pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his name being called, he turned his head and looked back at Rhaenyra as she clumsily climbed the hill.

"I know you are angry with me." Rhaenyra breathed, releasing the sides of her black dress walked closer to him, a frown present on her face. "I know you wished to attend their funeral-"

"I know why you forbade it, Nyra. I am no fool; I'm aware there weren't only just whispers of you and Harwin." (Y/N) interjected, resuming his walk but slowing his pace to allow Rhaenyra to walk alongside him. The princess sighed, gazing out onto the hills of sand and grass, the wind whipping back her hair and dress.

"I wished I had kept Harwin at court, (Y/N), I do. I wish I had decided on Dragonstone sooner and saved him from that dreaded curse."

"There is no curse, Nyra. Only scheming and coins."

"Do.." Rhaenyra swallowed, glancing at him before shaking her head. "I do not believe your sister capable of cold murder."

"I believe her capable of trusting the wrong people, as she has time and time again. I know my sister is not innocent or an inherently good person but I know she would not want to cause such harm. She relies on people who only wish to use her for one thing or another. But I did my duty as her brother. I tried to be there, I tried to shield her, I tried to teach and guide her but she refused to listen. I am aware that underneath her now cold exterior is the Alicent I once knew... But I am afraid that when she finally becomes her again, it'll be far too late. This path was chosen for her but she's never made any attempts at straying off it or turning back." (Y/N) spoke, voice nearly cracking. The emotions he'd held back for so many years came crashing down. Coming to a stop, the man turned toward the sea and stared out at the dark water.

"You said it yourself, my love. You tried." Rhaenyra whispered, reaching out to take his hand into hers, gaze softening as she stared at him. "And for the most part, you succeeded. I've heard Alicent during council meetings and I see so much of you shining through. You've taught her well but you couldn't guide her forever. And I believe she knows that too, even if she refuses to admit it. When you are trapped... It is sometimes better to accept your cage rather than escape it."

"I wish to see her happy... Just one last time. I cannot even remember the last time I've heard her laugh or seen her genuinely smile." (Y/N) exhaled, fingers gently wrapping around Rhaenyra's hand. The princess stepped closer, bringing his hand to her face and delicately kissing it before she pressed his hand against her cheek.

"You are a good brother. And a good father, even if the boys don't know it." Rhaenyra pressed her chest to his and reached up with her free hand, placing it on the side of his neck and stroking the skin with her thumb. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against (Y/N)s', leaning her forehead against his. "I wish we could be together now."

"Laenor does need you, Nyra. Despite his flaws and albeit childish nature." (Y/N) sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he basked in her presence and comfort. Rhaenyra softly grunted, dropping her head to his shoulder and wrapping both arms around him. While they weren't able to mourn publicly, they could mourn privately and in the safety of each other's arms. (Y/N) rested his chin on her head and looked back out at the waves, their soothing song calming the storm in his mind and heart. Harwin wouldn't wish for them to grieve forever. He'd want them to be strong for the boys, to celebrate his life rather than weep over his death.

The sound of wings and a low rumbling sound pulled the two apart. They turned their attention to the sky as a large dragon passed overhead, flying through the clouds and diving down toward the water, skimming it with their wings and legs. There were only three dragons as big as the one flying and one had died long before either of them had been born. The other one resided on Dragonstone which left only one dragon and her rider had been put to rest that very day.

"Were you aware Vhagar was claimed so soon?" (Y/N) questioned, turning toward his lover. The surprise on her face answered his question and he brought a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning softly. Turning toward Hide Tide, he watched Vhagar land near the castle to presumably drop off her new rider. (Y/N) could only pray to the Gods above that her newest rider wasn't one of his mischievous sons.

Taking Rhaenyra's hand, (Y/N) tugged her toward the castle, quickening their pace once the surprise wore off. By the time they arrived at the steps, Vhagar had already taken off into the skies. They hurried up the steps and entered Hide Tide, following the sound of voices until they reached the throne room and entered the crowded room. Knights, a few servants, the Velaryons, and Targaryens had gathered in the room. Sweeping his gaze over the room, he spotted why. In a chair near the crackling fire sat Aemond with a maester and a crying Alicent at his side whilst (Y/N)s' eldest sons stood on the other side of the room, bruised and dirty. Even Daemon's daughters had bruises on them.

"Jace? Luke!" Rhaenyra rushed to her sons, crouching down by Luke and gently prying his hand away from his face to look at his nose. "Who did this?"

"They attacked me!" Aemond shouted, whirling around in his chair to look at his older sister with a sneer. (Y/N) winced upon seeing the injured side of his face. His eye had swollen shut, a long cut trailing from his forehead down to near his jawline had been stitched closed. The children began shouting and arguing, accusing each other of attacking and protesting. But despite the loud bickering, (Y/N) heard the cause of the fight; Aemond had claimed Vhagar as his. (Y/N) sighed heavily, hearing Daemon snicker from his spot against the wall and King Viserys attempting to quiet the arguing.

"Silence!" King Viserys shouted, voice bouncing off the walls and effectively quieting the children. Exhaling, the old man leaned against his cane and began approaching his son, all eyes turning toward the king. "Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened. Now."

"What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."

"It was a regrettable accident." Rhaenyra quickly insisted, wrapping her arms around the boys and glancing in (Y/N)s' direction. The Hightower remained by the doors, gaze flickering between his lover and his sister. Both mothers with injured sons, both women he loved dearly, both women he vowed to protect who were now publicly arguing.

"Accident?" Alicent repeated with a scoff, brown eyes glittering with tears at the brutality her son faced. "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son."

"It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves!" Rhaenyra shot back at her, voice raising considerably. "Vile insults were levied against them."

"What insults?" King Viserys asked curiously, turning to his eldest daughter with furrowed brows. (Y/N) swallowed when Rhaenyra glanced at him once more, her lips pursing slightly as she gently took Luke's hands into her own. All too familiar insults, he assumed.

"The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question."

"He called us bastard." Jace piped up quietly, face caked in dirt and blood. A heavy silence fell over the room as King Viserys absorbed the information whilst Alicent lowered her gaze. Others exchanged uncomfortable or knowing looks, some eyes flickering over to (Y/N). The young man kept his head up despite the stares from Daemon, Otto, and the Velaryons. He could only watch unless he wished to risk the wrath of either woman or even the King.

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons." Rhaenyra continued, taking a step forward and watching her father closely, pleadingly. "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders." She finished, lifting her eyes to meet Alicents' teary-eyed ones. The brunette stared at her former friend before she turned her head toward her brother, betrayal etched all over her face.

"Over an insult?" She breathed with raised brows, looking back at Rhaenyra and motioning at her injured son. "My son has lost an eye."

"You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?" King Viserys questioned Aemond, leaning downward toward his son and tightly gripping his cane. Aemond kept his gaze on his lap, fingers digging into the armrests of the chair.

"The insult was training yard bluster. The lot of boys. It was nothing." Alicent alleged desperately for she knew the answer but her husband merely glanced in her direction, unconvinced by her answer.

"Aemond... I asked you a question." Aemond swallowed, nervously peering up at his father as King Viserys spoke, tone shifting into one of impatience.

"Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys' father?" Alicent attempted again when Aemond couldn't provide an answer, turning toward those present in an attempt to rouse them and push the attention away from her son. "Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."

Her attempt worked, seeing as King Viserys looked upon his daughter. "Yes, where is Ser Laenor?"

"I do not know, Your Grace. I... I could not find sleep. I went out for a walk." Rhaenyra answered, clearing her throat and averting her gaze as (Y/N) avoided Daemon's knowing look. The prince smirked from his spot, eyeing the lord before he turned his attention back onto his brother and young nephew.

"Entertaining his young squires, I would venture," Alicent muttered, drawing glares from Corlys and Rhaenys. Ser Criston smirked and bowed his head to hide it but (Y/N) caught sight of his reaction and felt a wave of irritation wash over him. With his interest in Laenor's whereabouts quenched, King Viserys returned to Aemond.

"Aemond, look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?" King Viserys demanded and Aemond swallowed, shrinking back into his seat and looking toward his mother. Alicent tensed, breath hitching as King Viserys and the others turned to her.

"It was Aegon," Aemond finally answered.

"Me?" Aegon breathed, staring down at his brother wide-eyed. Aemond relaxed when King Viserys looked away from him and instead focused on his older brother. The old man stepped toward his son, lip curling.

"And you, Aegon? Where did you hear such calumnies?" King Viserys questioned, patience beginning to wear thin. When his son didn't answer, he leaned toward his face and shouted, "Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!"

"We know, Father," Aegon spoke quietly, slowly turning to look at his father. "Everyone knows... Just look at them." He whispered. Rhaenyra tensed, desperately glancing in (Y/N)'s direction as she pulled Lucerys closer to her body, her own eyes beginning to water. King Viserys glanced back at Alicent, falling silent when he looked at (Y/N). The Hightower averted his eyes, digging his teeth into his bottom lip.

"This interminable infighting must cease!" King Viserys spat, slamming his cane into the ground and facing the people gathered. "All of you! We are a family! Now make your good will and share your apologies to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!" Slamming his cane once more, he exhaled and shook his head, unable to meet his wife's eyes as he walked by her.

"That is insufficient," Alicent protested, staring at her husband. King Viserys sighed softly and faced his wife. "Aemond has been permanently damaged, My King. 'Good will' cannot make him whole."

"I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye."

"No, because it's been taken."

"What would you have me do?" King Viserys asked, voice bordering on desperate and exhausted.

"There is a debt to be paid," Alicent croaked with a trembling voice as she stared her husband in the eye. Clenching her jaw, the brunette turned toward Rhaenyra. "I shall have one of her son's eyes in return." She demanded, murmuring spreading through those present as Rhaenyra pushed her sons behind her, eyes widening in fear. Finally moving from his spot, (Y/N) quietly moved down the stairs.

"He is your son, Viserys!" Alicent implored with a whimper, her bottom lip quivering when she faced her husband once more. King Viserys stepped toward her, shaking his head.

"Do not... allow your temper to guide your judgment." King Viserys stressed, glaring at his wife for voicing such an idea. His cane tapped lightly against the ground when he turned away from her again, resuming his walk back to his room. Alicent's fingers curled into fists and she inhaled deeply, glancing at her son.

"If the King does not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston... Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon." She ordered the knight, the desperation that had previously coated her voice now placed by coldness. The knight stared at her in return as Corlys protectively took the terrified Luke into his arms. "He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son."

"You will do no such thing!"

"Stay your hand." King Viserys quietly ordered Ser Criston.

Scoffing, Alicent raised a hand to her chest, pointing at herself. "No, you are sworn to me!" She shouted, turning her furious glare onto the knight when he made no attempt to move. Ser Criston swallowed, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, the metal of his armor clinking together.

"As your protector, My Queen." He reminded softly. Alicent's brows raised, arm dropping to her side as her face went blank with defeat. (Y/N) turned to look at Rhaenyra and the boys, noticing Jace looking at him fearfully. (Y/N) sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

"Alicent, this matter is finished. Do you understand?" King Viserys sneered, getting close to his wife. Alicent reeled back, lips parting as she met her husband's glare. King Viserys leaned back and stepped away from his wife, gazing over the crowd. "And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons should have it removed." He settled his gaze on his wife, shaking his head at her disapprovingly and turning away.

"Thank you, Father," Rhaenyra murmured, turning around and crouching down to inspect her sons once more. Striding forward, Alicent retrieved King Viserys' dagger and turned toward Rhaenyra, making a beeline for the princess as shouting and shoving commended. Frightened screams escaped the children as Rhaenyra whirled around and quickly caught Alicent's arms, a circle forming around the women.

"Alicent!" (Y/N) shouted for his sister, moving forward to push through the crowd. A blur of silver ran at him but before Ser Criston could reach the lord, Daemon put himself between them and shoved the knight back. (Y/N) paused, staring at the two men until Daemon nodded for him to separate the two women. (Y/N) pressed his lips together and looked away from the prince, forcing his way through the crowd and spotting the two.

"You've gone too far!" Rhaenyra shouted, arms trembling as she attempted to hold Alicent back, looking between the blade and the girl she once loved as a sister.

"I? What have I done but what was expected of me?" Alicent wailed, the tears slipping down her cheeks. "Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you wish!"

"Alicent, let her go!" King Viserys demanded but it fell on deaf ears.

"Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It's trampled under your pretty foot again!" Ignoring even Otto's demand, she continued. "And now you take my son's eye, and to even that you feel entitled."

"Exchuasting, wasn't it?" Rhaenyra sneered. "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are."

Grunting, Alicent and Rhaenyra shoved each other away, but not before the blade was brought down and sliced skin. A silence fell over as the women were caught before they could fall, the sound of dripping soon filling the quiet. Rhaenyra slowly looked down at her hand, extending her fingers as blood slipped between them and onto the floor. Upon seeing the blood, Alicent's breath hitched, the dagger falling to the floor with a clatter. (Y/N) approached his lover, gently taking her arm into his hands.

"Enough of this foolishness!" (Y/N) snapped, lifting his head to look over everyone "All the children must and will be punished for all of them behaved inappropriately. There was no need for their disagreement to escalate to violence, much less to bloodshed. Behaving in such a manner is below their stations as princes and ladies. They are no brutes, no savages. This matter could've been resolved peacefully in the presence of an adult. It is severely disappointing to witness such behavior from a bunch who I know were raised better than this." The children lowered their heads at his words.

"Lord (Y/N) is right but let us put this matter to rest for tonight." King Viserys spoke, finally being allowed to return to his bedchambers without interruption. Alicent followed after some coaxing from Ser Criston and he escorted her out of the room. Corlys and Rhaenys exchanged tired looks before urging their granddaughters back to their room. (Y/N) made brief eye contact with Daemon, giving him a thankful nod as the prince took his leave as well.

Escorting Rhaenyra to her room with the boys and maester, (Y/N) replayed the events of the night in his head. The first time Alicent and Rhaenyra had clashed so publicly, so openly. Sure, the two argued occasionally but neither ever dared raising a hand to the other. His sister had never been prone to such violence. (Y/N) made himself occupied by retrieving a bowl of water and having the boys clean their faces with a wet rag. The maester tended to them first before focusing on Rhaenyra and stitching her cut. The princess winced and hissed, flinching every few seconds. By the time he finished, the sun had begun to rise.

"I must prepare for our departure." (Y/N) muttered, giving Rhaenyra's shoulder a gentle squeeze and exiting the room. His legs took him to his room and he quietly thanked the maids already there, folding and packing away things. He picked out a fresh set of clothes and changed, retrieving a warm coat and watching the servants take away the few belongings he'd brought along. (Y/N) left his room, wandering the halls of High Tide until he reached a balcony and stepped out, looking out to sea. The cold wind nipped at his nose and cheeks but he didn't mind it. Eventually, he spotted the ship his sister and her husband were on, the dragons following not long after.

"I spoke to Laenor," Rhaenyra spoke from behind him, approaching his side. "And Daemon."

"Should I be worried?" (Y/N) asked, a hint of both playfulness and seriousness to his tone. Rhaenyra's silence only amplified the concern forming in his stomach. She stared out at the boat, fingers rubbing against the bandages wrapped around her arm.

"I must know, (Y/N)... Who do you side with? By blood, you are a Hightower and it would not be fair of me to ask you to turn your back on blood."

"They are not the only ones I share blood with, Nyra." (Y/N) murmured, turning his head to look at her. "You are the mother of my children and I have been by your side long before their births. The moment I devoted myself to you, I stopped being a green."

"Then, let us bind our blood. My claim may not be so easily challenged with you as my husband and king consort. Tonight, you proved to have the wisdom of a good king and you know the greens better than I ever could." Rhaenyra spoke firmly, determination laced into her voice as she faced the Hightower. (Y/N) studied her face, his face unreadable to the woman who knew him since childhood. Swallowing, she continued, "Since I was young, I always knew you and I were destined for many things. Together. Let us fulfill that by joining together in marriage once and for all."

"What of Laenor? You cannot marry unless he dies."

"I know. I sought out my uncle for a reason." Rhaenyra cupped her hands together, gazing back out at sea. "He claims to be a queen, my subjects must love and respect me. But they must also fear me. . It will cost Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys their only remaining child and the realm will whisper that we were somehow responsible. They will fear us. But Laenor will be dead to everyone but us as he will be living a free life across the sea. What do you say?"

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Lifting the dragonglass blade, (Y/N) sliced her bottom lip, a droplet of blood slipping from the cut. Gathering the blood with his thumb, he lifted his hand and dragged his thumb down Rhaenyra's forehead. The silver-haired princess adoringly stared up at him, using the blade to cut his lip as well and mark his forehead before she cut her palm and handed him to blade. (Y/N) winced slightly, dragging the blade down his palm and taking Rhaenyra's hand in his, binding their blood together as a priest spoke. Their children along with Daemon and his daughters watched on.

Bringing the cup to his face, (Y/N) felt his bottom lip sting as he drank from it. He handed it to Rhaenyra and watched her drink, the cup being set down beside them. Once the priest finished speaking, Rhaenyra smiled and cupped her husband's face, stroking his skin with her thumb before they leaned in. (Y/N) could taste their blood, lip stinging from the pressure but he ignored it. Rhaenyra pulled back, her bottom lip smeared with blood and saliva. She rested her forehead against his. And now, before the eyes of a priest, they were united. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.

"Avy jorrāelan, (Y/N)."

"Avy jorrāelan, Rhaenyra."

493 notes · View notes

starryschoolgirl · 10 months

Note

I'm in love with your au Baby Love!! I assume since it's an au it won't be an issue if I ask if kids are ever on the docket for Elvis and Cosette? And if they do have kids, how many would they have? Or how many have you got planned at the moment? Again, love it all so much and I'm very excited for the next installment!!

Oh what a lovely question! I will take this ask as an opportunity to make the introductions for the Baby Love au children!

Baby Love Family Tree

Cosette & Elvis' 5 children, & how they came to be

First a small clarification! The children, their attitudes, their behavior, and their views on life are heavily influenced by the old-money Chevalier side of the family. This is because for the majority of their childhood Elvis was quite busy with work, so Cosette was almost entirely raising them on her own views which are heavily influenced by her family's views.

Vacations and getaways from 1969 to 1980 were often with the Chevalier side and Elvis' side was too busy caught up in show business. So if you read their profiles and wonder why their attitudes/aesthetics stray from their father's so much, it's due to that lack of connection in childhood despite all the love that Elvis could and would give.

//mention of SIDS (sudden infant death syndrome)

Now, onto the little darlings!

Out of all the Presley children, Manon is most like her father personality-wise, which has led to a bit of clashing with her father. She is the first born, right before the spring of 1969. She's named after her mysterious aunt, her mother's sister who is rarely ever spoken about. She's also been dubbed her paternal grandmother's middle name.

Manon was only 12 or 13 when the Yuppie culture of the early 80s began to skyrocket, being the modern girl she is, she of course wanted to take part in that culture. To be a yuppie was to be educated with a solid job, to achieve that she remained on top of her studies, and when it finally came time she graduated overall salutatorian of her class, just one rank below her boyfriend whom she would unfortunately have to end things with.

After graduation, she followed in the footsteps of her uncles and went to Yale, staying with some Chevalier cousins in Connecticut where most of her maternal family is. During her time at Yale she would attend numerous parties as she's a girl with connections, and through those parties she would meet her future husband, Sergey Petroff, 4 years older than her and a new stockbroker. The two of course hit it off as she herself is studying finance.

She's definitely a mommy's girl, but that's just because her and her father are so alike that there are times that the two can't stand each other, but that's not to say she doesn't absolutely adore her father.

The twins. The spoiled rotten princesses of the Presley family. Born just 32 minutes apart on a cold winter day at the very start of 1970.

The two, out of all the children, had shown the most interest in their daddy's career. While Celine was more interested in the business side of it, as a little girl even listening in on her daddy's meetings, Delphine was more interested in the flashy bits.

And she always got her way. All Delphine had to do was point her little finger at something and moments later it would be paid for and in her hands.

With both their interests in show business, or rather just the high life in general having been obvious since birth, they were allowed to start their own adventure, in modeling at the age of 17. After begging since the age of 13, Cosette and Elvis finally gave in, and only allowed them to start modelling with longtime trusted family friend, Jerry Schilling as their manager.

Delphine absolutely loves the life of modeling and loves doing it with her sister. But Celine has always felt a slight emptiness from it all, she'd much rather be one of the people behind the scenes, making up the contracts and making the money.

Julie Jesse Presley, the first born son. He was born in early 1971 after a long and hard pregnancy.

His daddy had teased his mommy for giving him such an effeminate name, but she loved it, and said it suited him, he had this angelic beauty about him. He was also of course named after a dear angel in the family, Elvis' stillborn brother, so there were no qualms about it.

Unfortunately he passed away from SIDS only 23 days after his birth.

He is missed terribly and always remembered. There was a point in time however that little confused Manon hated him, as his death was a turning point for the family, and shed light on underlying issues in Cosette and Elvis' marriage, which would eventually give way for divorce.

The youngest Presley child, Memphis Michael Presley. Born in '74, amidst the divorce of his parents no less. But his birth is sort of the saving grace of the Presley-Chevalier union.

After learning of her pregnancy, and of course needing to tell the court, the court would not approve the famed divorce dispute to be finalized until after the birth of the son.

Had the divorce not been drawn out those extra months, the Presley-Chevalier union would've ended in those rainy, windy months

Despite the fact that he was supposed to be the glue to the family, he grew to have a rather stressed relationship with his father.

Memphis followed in the footsteps of his older sister and maternal side of the family by attending Yale on a football scholarship. The sport is one of the few things that could bring Elvis and Memphis together.

The tension in the relationship stemmed from Elvis' fame. Hearing stories about how his father had treated his mother for a point in time of course filled Memphis with a little bit of frustration when he went from being a little boy who looked up to his daddy, to being a man who felt the need to look after his mama.

Memphis often felt that if his father wasn't famous the two of them would be closer. Fame took his father's time away from him growing up, and now his father's fame overshadowed him as no one took his interest in being involved in politics seriously. All because people were too busy staring at the shadow of his father that staggered over him.

It's also to be noted that out of all the children, he took after the ideals and attitudes of the Chevalier side the most, which at times clashed with his father's own ideals and attitudes.

And that my dear friends, are the Presley-Chevalier children. What do you think? I personally am enamored with all of them, lovely little ones.

I'm very happy to get this out, so now people will have context when I post later installments of the Baby Love au!! I had so much fun making all their little profiles and backstories, I'm so excited to explore them more!

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x oc #Baby Love

103 notes · View notes

ourtearsofrain · 5 months

Text

Slow It Down (D.R.W/S.F.K)- Chapter 1

Summary: Almost three years after escaping to New York for college, Danny finally returns to Frankenmuth for the summer, welcomed with open arms by all his family and old friends. All but one. With Sam’s apparent hatred of him, Danny must try to get through the summer with him hanging over his life like a storm cloud, darkening each day spent with their families.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Genre: ANGST, brotherly fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: none for this ch? Some shit between Danny and Sam is alluded to but not addressed fully. Also day drinking lol

A/N: I’m so excited to share this new series with y’all, I hope you like it. The series as a whole, as well as specific dialogue/comments/thoughts, are based off a handful of angsty heartbreaking songs that I will post an “unofficial playlist” for, so look for that at the bottom of a masterlist post for this series soon! Make sure to fill out the taglist form in my bio if you want to be tagged in any updates for this or future works! Thanks for reading!

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

June 19th, 2020, 5:07 pm.

It had been two years, ten months, and 15 days since Danny had spoken to Sam. Two years, ten months, and 15 days since he had felt fully whole. And two years, ten months, and 15 days full of regret. But who was counting, right?

Danny was. He had begun counting the second he boarded that plane with a one-way ticket out of Frankenmuth, headed straight for “The Big Apple” to start his life over. Away from his family, away from his high school friends and the worst of all, away from Sam. Thankfully Josh had already moved to New York the second he graduated, studying Film Production at Columbia University and practically adopting Danny the second he got there, making sure he was adjusting to the city well and spending as much time with him as their schedules allowed. Coincidentally, Josh’s former roommate had decided to move out right before Danny made the choice to go to New York, leaving the second bedroom of his apartment open for him to fill.

As the distance between Sam and him increased, Danny only became closer to the twins. Even though they had treated him like he was their younger brother ever since he moved in next to the Kiszka’s at age seven, living with Josh who called Jake on facetime every day truly made them the older brothers he had always wished for.

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

Danny removes his forehead from the cool glass of the plane window, turning to see a flight attendant standing expectantly in the isle with a too-sweet smile. “Oh, uh no I’m ok, thanks.”

“Alright then. Just letting you know we should be landing in about 20 minutes, so could you please fasten your seatbelt?”

Danny glances down, realizing he hadn’t re-buckled his belt after he had gone to the bathroom to stretch his legs and pull himself together as his family would surely be waiting for him at the luggage return. “Of course, my bad.” He re-buckles it before leaning his head back against the seat as she walks away, closing his eyes and praying that the next few months of his life would pass quickly.

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

Grey suitcase, purple tag. Grey suitcase, purple tag. Grey suitcase, purple tag. Shit, there it is. Danny rushes to grab his bag, feeling claustrophobic as the luggage return fills with more and more people. Go out the door, find the car. Out the door, find the car. Drive home and pray he’s not there. It takes him mere seconds to find his parents’ car as his mom frantically waves from across the lot, grinning as she darts between the traffic the instant she sees Danny.

She tackles him in a hug as she rocks them back and forth, her grip on him crushing as he tries to keep his balance. “Oh my god you look so good, how was Junior year? Have you been eating enough? Getting out and having some fun right?”

“Hey mom.” He locks his arms around her, hugging her just as tight as he smiles. “It was good, yes I have, and yes I do. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She pulls away teary eyed, still smiling wide at him. “Oh, I know, but that’s my job. And you haven’t been home for so long, how else am I supposed to know how you’re doing?”

“Yeah… sorry about that. You know how it is, between school and work it’s hard to find the time to get back to Michigan for a long visit.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She waves her hand in the air as if she were shooing away his apologies, taking Danny’s suitcase in the other as she leads him to the car. “You’re in college, I get it. You have better things to do than visit us. Like go to parties. And date. Meet any cute girls recently?”

His heart sinks at the question, trying to keep his smile from faltering as they reach her car. “Too busy to try and date right now, mom.” He takes the bag from her, easily sliding it into the trunk as she watches him.

“Bullshit. C’mon, you’re a young, attractive guy. You must have some girls in your lectures throwing themselves at you.”

“You know me, I’m too focused on my studies to pay attention to that. It’s fine, I promise. I’m doing good in New York, living with Josh has been great, I’ve made some good friends. Dating just isn’t at the top of my priorities right now.” He hopes that his explanation will be enough for his mom to drop the topic as they get into the car, her prying being in good intention but only resurfacing old wounds.

“Oh! Speaking of, Karen and Kelly are having a barbeque tonight to celebrate you, Jake and Josh coming home for the summer. Your dad would have come with me to get you but he’s at their place right now helping set up.”

“Great, that’s great. Can’t wait to see everyone again.” Not everyone. Danny tries to keep his mind away from him as he listens to his mom talk throughout the drive, the pit in his stomach only growing as they turn down more and more familiar streets. A small weight lifts off his shoulders when he doesn’t see him in the front yard as they pass the Kiszka’s house, pulling into his childhood home’s driveway, his thoughts louder than his mother’s voice as they get out of the car.

“Danny?”

“Hm?”

“I said, do you want to go settle in and freshen up before you head over?”

“Oh, yeah that’d be great. Sorry, didn’t hear you, must be jetlagged.”

“You’re ok, it’s alright if you need to take a nap before tonight, everyone will completely understand. It took Josh a day to sleep off the travel.”

Danny snorts as he extends the handle of his suitcase, closing the trunk with the other hand. “Yeah, I bet he did. I swear, he gets tired from taking the subway for 15 minutes, can’t imagine him traveling on a plane without at least two naps. Should be alright though, thanks.”

“Of course. Alright, I’m going to go over to the Kiszka’s and let them know you’re here, see if they need any help and all that. The fridge and pantry are stocked up if you need a snack, and your room’s just as you left it.”

“Thanks, mom. Love you, see you in a few.”

“Love you too, Daniel. Don’t take too long.” Her tone is light, joking as she spares a glance behind her to smile before disappearing into the backyard.

It’s just a few hours, it’ll be fine. I can avoid him all night, there should be enough people to do that easily. Just a few hours and then I don’t have to see him all summer. Except he lives next door. And his older brothers are my closest friends and roommate. And our parents are friends. Should be easy to avoid him, right? God, I’m fucking screwed.

The second he reaches his room, he faceplants into his bed, nearly toppling off the edge of the twin after getting accustomed to his queen bed in New York. Rolling onto his back, he finally takes the room in. It was exactly how he left it the last time he visited, unchanged from when he lived there, like everything had frozen in time as he continued on. Everything in his room reminded Danny of a simpler time, of him. Of laying side by side on his too small bed, talking for hours as they stared up at the soft yellow of the Neil Young Harvest poster hung on the ceiling. The old acoustic guitar in the corner they would trade back and forth on his floor for hours now sat dusty and unused. The singe mark on the wood of his windowsill from the time they got too high and let the end of their joint burn out on it. He was everywhere, in everything. Danny could never escape him no matter how far he went, everything always circled back to him. He could grow and change and learn, but Frankenmuth would forever be there to remind him of everything that once was.

Might as well get up and get the party over with instead of sitting here feeling sorry for myself. At the thought, Danny slides off his bed, landing hard on the ground before forcing himself up to find something to change into. After travelling all day, he was eager to get out of his loose jeans and sweatshirt, knowing it was too nice of a day to be comfortable wearing that outside.

He opens his suitcase unenthusiastically, hoping that he had remembered to pack at least one pair of shorts. Thankfully, he had, and he finds his (quite short) yellow shorts and his Howlin’ Wolf muscle tee in no time, changing quickly and slipping into his old, slip on vans before trudging down the stairs and out the front door, heading straight for the Kiszka’s backyard.

“DANNY!” The second he walks through the side gate, Danny only sees the blur of Jake before he slams into him, knocking the wind from his lungs as he loses his footing, falling backwards and pulling Jake down with him.

When he catches his breath, Danny wraps his arms around the other man with a grin as they lay on the soft grass. “Jake! Great to see you, man. Missed you.”

Jake loosens his grip before getting up and offering Danny a hand to pull him up. “Missed you too, it’s been way too long.”

“DANNY!” This time it’s Josh who slams into him, practically jumping into his arms as Danny catches him. “I’ve missed you so much, it’s been way too long since we’ve seen each other.” He fake sobs into his neck, pulling out everything he learned from the years of theater he did in high school to put on his act.

“We live together, Josh. I saw you three days ago.” Danny’s voice is flat, but he can’t help a smile from creeping onto his face as Josh pulls away from him grinning.

“Yeah, I know, but I still missed you.” After Danny makes his rounds of teary hugs with his dad, Karen, and Kelly, he looks around the yard, hating himself for noticing his absence.

“Sam’s inside cutting some watermelon, he’ll be out soon.” Karen says with a smile, picking up on what he was looking for and thinking her comment was helpful.

“Oh, great. That’s great.” They don’t know. He never told them.

“C’mon Danny, Josh and I started day drinking an hour ago, you gotta catch up to us.”

“Jacob!” Karen swats his arm as he passes her, already on his way to start making a drink for Danny.

“What? He’s 21 now, it’s legal.”

Danny’s smile is wiped clean off his face as he hears the back door slide open, turning to see Sam standing frozen in the doorframe with a large bowl of watermelon in his hands. Say something. Say something or it’ll be weird. “Hey Sam.”

Sam’s expression is as flat as his voice when he speaks. “Daniel.”

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

taglist: @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #daniel gvf #sam gvf #sanny gvf #greta van angst #greta van fluff #sam kiszka x danny wagner #sam kiszka #danny wagner

32 notes · View notes

risetherivermoon · 4 months

Text

the oak-swallows-garcia's at the time of the epilogue!! this is also me working on revamping some designs..stay tuned, im planning on doing this with all of the families! tho idk if ill get to it...we'll see

i feel like hero looks a lot like the twins where norm looks a lot like rebecca, especially as she got older, i need to revamp my design for her or at least make a proper one lol, as well as one for s2 hero

started with these guys because i have not stopped thinking abt them since the finale, like oh my god...this family man.

(HUGE descs of post-canon/epilogue hcs below cut, as well as closeups!)

first off: Hero! (i posted a wip/close up of her a bit ago but that was before i realized i got the ages wrong,) she's 40, working for NASA after going to college, she's currently single, living with her two best friends she met in college and their cat, Momo. She's living her best life, still in therapy, and is finding it to be very helpful. She hasn't spoken to the Twins and Rebecca in about six or seven years, but keeps in contact with Normal regularly, after everything that happened while she was a child and years of therapy she decided it was best to go no contact with them, they respect her decision. Her and Normal call every few weeks just to catch up.

Normal! not too different from what was already described in canon, he's 38, living alone outside of California, he attempted to go to college after graduation and ended up dropping out in his Sophomore year, after a mental health crisis got him way off track. Now he's working a retail job in Boston, while attempting to go back to school and graduate. He hasn't exactly put in the effort to keep in contact with the rest of the teens, though Scary and Linc call or text him every now and then. Normal was at there wedding, and attends every one of Gerry's birthday parties. He's in contact with his parents, though mostly only Rebecca. He's in therapy, but he's still struggling. He is also still talking to Henry, and he visits Oakvale every now and then, just to say hi to him and his Aunt Birdie. (screw yall shes real to ME)

Rebecca! At 60, She and the twins are still living in San Dimas, she's only just now retired officially, though living comfortably with the money from Swallow's ice cream. Her marriage with Sparrow has always been rocky, but they're at a point where it's easier to live together and stay married. Though they more so are living as friends other than a married couple. Her relationship with Lark has always been weird, though she'd consider them good friends as well. She texts with Normal practically daily, because she worries about him a lot. After she died for a brief amount of time, she started to rethink a lot of things in her life, one of those things being the amount of time she spends focusing on her kids and making sure they're alright. If Normal was anyone else he'd probably say she was being too clingy. Shed attempted to revive her dying relationship with her daughter as well, but inevitably respected her decision once Hero decided to go no-contact. She still asks Norm about her though.

Sparrow!! this one is interesting! At 31 (pre-s2), he hits a specific point as a druid where he gains the Timeless Body ability, where his aging slows as he gets older, Sparrow wasn't aware thats what was happening until he realized around his mid forties that he wasn't looking any different. After a long conversation with Henry, he figures out that's what's happening. He doesn't tell anyone besides Lark for a while until it's too noticeable to hide. at 59, he's living at home with Rebecca and Lark still, and is spending most of his time gardening and painting, or attempting to keep his mind off of...everything. Sparrow isn't living happy or comfortably, though it seems that way from an outside point of view. He finds himself trying to ignore everything going on around him, the fact his life is in shambles, and the inevitable of his loved ones dying before him. He throws himself into his art, to the point where Rebecca has to drag him out of their art studio (their garage) to eat and sleep. He barely leaves the house, because people around town had already started to notice how young he looks.

Lark!! agghgh if you thought my sparrow description was a bummer get buckled. Lark never really recovered from the aftermath of The Doodler and Code Purple, he had really been solely living off of his dedication to fixing everything. So once everything was fixed, he crashed. Badly. For about seven months no one knew where he was, he ran off to the other side of the country and basically went on a self destructive spree, driving around aimlessly. Once he came back home, Sparrow and him had their first heated argument. Sparrow wouldn't let Lark out of his sight, and pushed him to do something other than wallow in self hatred. So Lark started working at a mechanic shop down the road, and without his usual purpose, he threw himself into the work.He worked there for 12 years before an accident involving his right knee happened, leaving him immobilized (hence the mobility aid/cane). Sparrow forced him to leave the job behind after that, at 59, Lark's basically been in a weird stasis, waiting to die.

22 notes · View notes

legendary-defender-of-fandoms · 4 months

Text

YOU’RE KILLING ME, BUG MAN!!!!!!

Sigh, so I just learned that my local theater has a thing called TheaterTalk where theater professionals talk with the audience members after a Thursday matinee. And they’re going to be hosting one of these talks while Beetlejuice is in town. TheaterTalk is free with the price of admission to the Thursday matinee.

Now, HYPOTHETICALLY, since I’m working from home that day, I COULD put in for a half day, see the show, and annoy ask the TourJuice cast questions that have been burning in my mind for ages (like how Beetlejuice gets ON Big Sandy, and how that process could risk one getting a career-ending concussion, or if the Handbook for the Recently Deceased ever missed its mark & bounced into the orchestra pit).

But I’m already seeing the show on Tuesday by myself & Friday with my (indifferent to regretting-their-life-choices) family. And I’m also planning to go to California to see Cinderella’s Castle (a new Starkid musical, not the Disney attraction that I KNOW is in Florida!) in July, and possibly attend Twin Cities Con in Minnesota in November (unless a certain guest at the con hosts another streaming/signing thing between now & then that doesn’t conflict with my current social calendar).

Please, I need advice! And possibly a shrink.

#beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice #bjtm #Beetlejuice the musical the musical the musical #this is for science #poll #bjtmtmtm #betelgeuse #beetlejuice tour #justinjuice #I don’t know if it’s good or bad to be obsessed with the fictional demon & not the real people in the cast #please send help

24 notes · View notes

alaynasansa · 1 year

Text

Her empathy

Sansa was too well bred to smile at her sister's disgrace

The rasping voice trailed off. He squatted silently before her, a hulking black shape shrouded in the night, hidden from her eyes. Sansa could hear his ragged breathing. She was sad for him, she realized. Somehow, the fear had gone away.

The silence went on and on, so long that she began to grow afraid once more, but she was afraid for him now, not for herself. She found his massive shoulder with her hand. “He was no true knight,” she whispered to him

Of course, Jeyne had been in love with Lord Beric ever since she had first glimpsed him in the lists. Sansa thought she was being silly ; Jeyne was only a steward's daughter, after all, and no matter how much she mooned after him, Lord Beric would never look at someone so far beneath him, even if she hadn't been half his age.

It would have been unkind to say so, however, so Sansa took a sip of milk and changed the subject

She had always imagined the Night's Watch to be men like Uncle Benjen. In the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. But this man had been crookbacked and hideous, and he looked as though he might have lice. If this was what the Night's Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon

“I'm certain your father is well,” Sansa told her when she had finally gotten the dress buttoned right. “I'll ask the queen to let you see him.” She thought that kindness might lift Jeyne's spirits

Sansa dried her own tears as she struggled to comfort her friend. They went to sleep in the same bed, cradled in each other's arms like sisters

They all laughed then, Joffrey on his throne, and the lords standing attendance, Janos Slynt and Queen Cersei and Sandor Clegane and even the other men of the Kingsguard, the five who had been his brothers until a moment ago. Surely that must have hurt the most, Sansa thought. Her heart went out to the gallant old man as he stood shamed and red-faced, too angry to speak

Sansa heard herself gasp. “No, you can't.”

Joffrey turned his head. “What did you say ?”

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad ? To tell him no in front of half the court ? She hadn't meant to say anything, only... Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he meant no harm

Sansa found herself possessed of a queer giddy courage. “You should go with her,” she told the king. “Your brother might be hurt.”

Joffrey shrugged. “What if he is ?”

“You should help him up and tell him how well he rode.” Sansa could not seem to stop herself.

Prince Tommen sobbed. “You mew like a suckling babe,” his brother hissed at him. “Princes aren't supposed to cry.”

“Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon,” Sansa Stark said, “and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound”

Halfway along the route, a wailing woman forced her way between two watchmen and ran out into the street in front of the king and his companions, holding the corpse of her dead baby above her head. It was blue and swollen, grotesque, but the real horror was the mother's eyes. Joffrey looked for a moment as if he meant to ride her down, but Sansa Stark leaned over and said something to him. The king fumbled in his purse, and flung the woman a silver stag

“I want the man who threw that !” he shouted. “A hundred golden dragons to the man who gives him up.”

“He was up there !” someone shouted from the crowd.

The king wheeled his horse in a circle to survey the rooftops and open balconies above them. In the crowd people were pointing, shoving, cursing one another and the king.

“Please, Your Grace, let him go,” Sansa pleaded.

“If I'm not betrayed by my own guards, I may be able to hold here for a time. Then I can go to the walls and offer to yield to Lord Stannis in person. That will spare us the worst. But if Maegor's Holdfast should fall before Stannis can come up, why then, most of my guests are in for a bit of rape, I'd say. And you should never rule out mutilation, torture and murder at times like these.”

Sansa was horrified. “These are women, unarmed, and gently born”

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear

Sansa went to Ser Lancel and knelt beside him. His wound was bleeding afresh where the queen had struck him. “Madness,” he gasped. “Gods, the Imp was right, was right...”

“Help him,” Sansa commanded two of the serving men.

One just looked at her and ran, flagon and all. Other servants were leaving the hall as well, but she could not help that. Together, Sansa and the serving man got the wounded knight back on his feet. “Take him to Maester Frenken.” Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead

The Hound had turned craven, she heard it said ; at the height of the battle, he got so drunk the Imp had to take his men. But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared

How can I let my sister marry Joffrey ? she thought, and suddenly her eyes were full of tears. “Margaery, please,” she said, “you mustn't.” It was hard to get the words out. “You mustn't marry him. He's not like he seems, he's not. He'll hurt you”

She did not want Margaery to suffer as she had, but she dreaded the thought that the Tyrells might refuse to go ahead with the wedding. I warned her, I did, I told her the truth of him. Perhaps Margaery did not believe her. Joff always played the perfect knight with her, as once he had with Sansa. She will see his true nature soon enough. After the wedding if not before. Sansa decided that she would light a candle to the Mother Above the next time she visited the sept, and ask her to protect Margaery from Joffrey's cruelty

When Sansa turned, the little man was gazing up at her, his mouth tight, his face as red as her cloak. Suddenly she was ashamed of her stubbornness

He is as frightened as I am, Sansa realized. Perhaps that should have made her feel more kindly toward him, but it did not. All she felt was pity

Sansa had been wary of Tyrion's squire at first ; he was a Payne, cousin to Ser Ilyn Payne who had taken her father's head off. However, she'd soon come to realize that Pod was as frightened of her as she was of his cousin

He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing

Robert did not need to know that, though. He was only a sick little boy who'd loved his mother

Robert had spindly arms and legs, a soft concave chest and little belly, and eyes that were always red and runny. He cannot help the way he is. He was born small and sickly. “You look very strong this morning, my lord.” He loved to be told how strong he was

A few moments later and the big man sprawled dazed in the dust with his helm askew. When his squire undid the fastenings to bare his head, there was blood trickling down his scalp. If the swords had not been blunted, there would be brains as well. That last head blow had been so hard Alayne had winced in sympathy when it fell

Ser Wallace reddened. “I am no more a s-squire, my lady. My n-nephew knows full well that I was k-k-kni-k-k-kni—”

“Dubbed ?” Alayne suggested gently.

“Dubbed,” said Wallace Waynwood, gratefully

After that Ser Roland Waynwood swept her up and made her laugh with mocking comments about half the other knights in the hall. His uncle Wallace took a turn as well and tried to do the same, but the words would not come. Alayne finally took pity on him and began to chatter happily, to spare him the embarrassment

Sansa Month 2023 : day thirty - your favorite sansa trait

#sansa stark #alayne stone #source: a game of thrones #source: a clash of kings #source: a storm of swords #source: a feast for crows #source: the winds of winter #sansamonth2023 #sansastarkappreciationfest2023

135 notes · View notes