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novaursa · 24 days

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Hour of the Wolf

- Summary: Cregan keeps his promise to you, and delivers Northern justice to the South.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: These events happen right after The Wolf's Flame. To read all parts of this story, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. This is the last part (conclusion) for this series.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The cold wind that blows down from the North seems to follow him even here, into the heart of the South, where the air is usually filled with the warmth of the sun. Yet today, the skies over King’s Landing are heavy with a gray pallor, as if the gods themselves know that justice is at hand. You are not here to witness this, but you are the reason for it. Every step Cregan Stark takes is one of duty, but also of love—love for you, his Y/N, his beloved wife, and the mother of his children.

The streets of King’s Landing tremble under the march of Northern boots, the sight of direwolf banners casting long shadows against the red stone walls. Cregan’s expression is as hard and unyielding as the land he comes from, his gray eyes focused on the path ahead. He is the Lord of Winterfell, the Wolf in the South, and today, the Hour of the Wolf has come.

Outside the Red Keep, the air is tense, the men around him anxious. They know what he is capable of; they know the purpose behind his presence. Justice. It is the promise he made to you, and the promise he will fulfill. Waiting at the gates, he finds two figures—one is the boy king, Aegon, the youngest of your mother’s children, and the other is Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, your grandfather.

Aegon stands tall, but there is a shadow in his violet eyes, a weight that he has carried since he took his place as the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Corlys, too, has the look of a man who has seen too much, but still, there is a fire in him, one that refuses to die despite the years of war and loss.

As Cregan approaches, it is Aegon who speaks first, his voice steady despite the turmoil that surrounds him. “Lord Stark, we have been expecting you.”

Cregan nods, his gaze unwavering. “And I have come as promised. The South will know the meaning of Northern justice.”

Corlys steps forward, his eyes sharp as they search Cregan’s face. “The traitor Aegon II is dead, found poisoned in his chambers,” he announces, his tone devoid of satisfaction, yet also lacking in sorrow. “The throne is now secure, but the realm is not yet at peace.”

For a moment, the air is still, as if even the city itself is holding its breath. Cregan’s expression does not change, but there is a flicker in his eyes—a glimmer of something darker. “The death of Aegon II was too swift,” he says, his voice low and filled with the cold of the North. “He deserved more for what he did to your family, for what he did to my wife.”

Aegon shifts uncomfortably, but Corlys holds Cregan’s gaze, understanding the weight behind those words. “Justice has been served, in one way or another,” the Sea Snake says, his voice carrying the wisdom of his years. “But what of your children, my grandchildren? How are they?”

The question brings a softness to Cregan’s hard exterior, a flicker of warmth that only thoughts of you and your children can invoke. “They are well,” he answers, a hint of pride in his tone. “Safe in their mother’s embrace, in the heart of Winterfell. And Killian, our eldest, has had a dragon hatch from Thraxata’s clutch. A fine beast, worthy of a Stark and a Velaryon.”

Corlys’s eyes widen at the news, and even Aegon’s lips twitch in something that almost resembles a smile. The thought of a new dragon, born of your bonded dragon, Thraxata, the Midnight Fury, a creature of polished obsidian and violet fire, is enough to stir the blood of even the most hardened man. It is a symbol of your strength, your legacy, and the legacy of the children you have borne with Cregan.

The Sea Snake nods, his gaze distant as he considers the future. “A new dragon, a new beginning,” he murmurs. “Perhaps there is hope yet for this broken realm.”

Cregan does not reply immediately. Instead, he turns his gaze toward the towering walls of the Red Keep, a place that has seen too much bloodshed, too many betrayals. He thinks of you, of the letters you exchanged before he rode South, the promises made between you. He is here to fulfill those promises, to ensure that your family, your children, will inherit a world where they can grow without the shadow of war looming over them.

Finally, he speaks, his voice as unyielding as the North. “Hope is something that must be earned,” he says. “And I will see to it that this realm is worthy of the children it will one day belong to.”

With that, Cregan Stark, the Wolf in the South, turns his back on the Red Keep, his mind already turning to the tasks ahead. There is still much to be done, and he will not rest until justice, true justice, has been delivered. For you, Y/N, for your children, and for the memory of your family.

As he walks away, the wind picks up, carrying with it the chill of the North—a reminder that Winterfell, and all that it holds dear, is never far from his thoughts.

The throne room of the Red Keep is a place of power, but also of shadows—of secrets whispered in the dark and blood spilled on the cold stone floor. Today, however, it is a place of judgment. Cregan Stark, the Wolf of the North, stands before the Iron Throne, his presence imposing, his expression as cold as the winter winds that sweep across his homeland. The crown has been secured, the usurper dead by poison, but the realm still bleeds, and it falls to him to stitch its wounds.

He takes his position as Hand of the King with a heavy heart, but with unshakable resolve. Justice must be done, and he is here to see it through, not for his own glory, but for you, his beloved Y/N, and for the future you share. He remembers the words he once whispered to you in the quiet of your chambers, promises made in the stillness of Winterfell: to protect, to avenge, to make the world safer for your children. Today, he begins to fulfill those promises.

Before him stand nineteen men, the accused, each bearing the weight of their sins. Traitors, conspirators, men who played their parts in the bloodshed that tore the realm apart. They are the remnants of a conflict that has claimed too many lives, the final vestiges of a regime that crumbled beneath the weight of its own ambition.

Cregan’s voice rings out in the hall, deep and unwavering, as he addresses them. “You stand accused of treason, of betrayal to the crown, and of crimes that have brought the realm to the brink of ruin. Justice is what I seek, and justice is what you will receive.”

The room is silent, the tension thick as his words hang in the air. There is no mercy in his tone, no room for doubt or leniency. The eyes of those before him are filled with a mixture of fear and resignation. They know what is coming, and they know there is no escape.

Cregan’s gaze moves across them, his expression unreadable as he delivers the sentence. “Those of you who have been found guilty, you will take the black. You will live out the remainder of your days on the Wall, defending the realm you have betrayed. Your lives are forfeit, but the Watch will have your service.”

There is a murmur among the accused, some relief, some despair. The Wall is a harsh fate, but it is life, of a sort. But not all will receive such a sentence, and they know it.

Cregan turns his gaze to the two men who stand apart from the others, Lord Larys Strong and Ser Gyles. They do not flinch under his scrutiny, though they know what fate awaits them. They are men who have accepted their end, men who understand that the blood they have spilled cannot be washed away by mere words.

“For you,” Cregan continues, his voice colder now, “there will be no such mercy. Lord Larys Strong, Ser Gyles Belgrave, you have been judged, and your sentence is death.”

The room is silent again, the weight of his words settling over all who are present. Cregan steps forward, the greatsword Ice in his hand, the Valyrian steel gleaming in the dim light of the throne room. It is a blade that has seen many executions, a blade that carries the history of House Stark in every inch of its steel.

Without hesitation, Cregan raises Ice, his muscles rippling beneath his furs as he prepares to deliver the final justice. The men before him kneel, heads bowed, accepting their fate. It is a grim task, but one that must be done. For you, for your children, for the future of the realm.

The blade comes down, swift and sure, and in a single stroke, both men fall. Their heads roll across the cold stone floor, the blood pooling at Cregan’s feet. The sound echoes in the chamber, a final, resounding note of justice delivered.

Cregan stands over the fallen men, Ice still in his hand, his breath steady. He feels the weight of his duty, the coldness of the act, but also the warmth of satisfaction. It is done. The traitors have paid for their crimes, and the realm can begin to heal.

As he steps back, wiping the blood from Ice with a cloth handed to him by one of his bannermen, a raven arrives. The black bird flutters through the open windows of the throne room, a small scroll tied to its leg, the wax seal of Winterfell visible even from a distance.

Cregan’s heart skips a beat as he takes the scroll, recognizing the seal immediately. It is from Maester Kennet, and he knows what news it carries. He breaks the seal with a steady hand, though inside, his emotions swirl. The paper crinkles as he unrolls it, and he reads the words written in the familiar script.

"Lord Cregan,

It is with great joy that I inform you that Lady Y/N has given birth to a healthy son. Both mother and child are well. The boy has been named Rickon, after your noble father. Winterfell rejoices at the birth of its heir, and we await your return.

Maester Kennet"

Cregan’s heart swells with a warmth that almost overcomes him. Rickon. Another son, another piece of the future you will build together. He closes his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to picture you in the great hall of Winterfell, holding your newborn son in your arms, surrounded by Killian and Alysane. He can see their smiles, hear the laughter that will fill the halls once more.

He tucks the letter away, the coldness of the throne room fading as he turns to leave. His duty here is nearly done, and soon, he will return to you, to your children, to Winterfell. He will hold his son, he will see your face, and he will feel the warmth of home once more.

But for now, he is still the Wolf in the South, the Hand of the King, and there are still tasks that must be completed before he can return to you. He steels himself, knowing that with every step he takes, he is one step closer to home, one step closer to you and the life you have built together.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, its warmth chasing away the chill of the Northern winds that rattle the ancient stones of Winterfell. The room is quiet, filled with a peaceful stillness that you savor, holding your newborn son close to your chest. Little Rickon, barely a few days old, sleeps soundly in your arms, his tiny breaths warm against your skin. His dark lashes rest against his pale cheeks, so much like his father’s, and you can already see the strength in his small features, a promise of the man he will one day become.

You sit in a chair by the fire, wrapped in furs that keep you warm and comfortable. The weight of your son is a soothing comfort, grounding you in this moment, despite the swirling thoughts that sometimes pull your mind southward, toward King’s Landing, where your husband, Cregan, now walks paths that you wished you could have shared with him.

It was a hard decision, staying behind. You wanted to be there at Cregan’s side, to see justice served for what was done to your family. But the weight of your pregnancy had kept you here, in the North, far from the seat of power and the vengeance that now unfolds. You had argued, begged even, but Cregan, in his stern but loving way, had insisted. His duty was there, and yours, he said with a gentle hand on your belly, was here, with the child you were carrying and the children who needed their mother.

You sigh softly, glancing across the room where your other children play. Killian, your eldest, is sprawled on the floor, his dark hair a wild tangle as he wrestles with a small dragon, a hatchling from Thraxata’s clutch. Vexion, as Killian named him, is a striking creature, barely larger than a hunting hound, with scales of deep midnight blue that shimmer like sapphires in the firelight. His wings, though small, are strong and powerful, the membranes tinted in the same shades of violet as Thraxata’s, and his eyes, bright and alert, match the deep purple of her own.

Killian laughs as Vexion snaps playfully at his fingers, his little teeth harmless for now, though you know that one day, they will grow sharp enough to rend flesh and bone. But for now, the dragon is just a playful companion, a symbol of your legacy and the bond your family shares with these magnificent beasts.

Alysane, your daughter, sits beside her brother, her pale hair cascading over her shoulders as she carefully arranges a set of wooden figures. She’s creating a scene, you realize, a miniature version of Winterfell with figures of wolves and dragons placed carefully around the perimeter. Her little brow is furrowed in concentration, but she smiles when she hears Killian’s laughter, her violet eyes sparkling with the same mischievous light that often shines in Cregan’s when he is teasing you.

Watching them, your heart swells with love and pride. These are your children, your future. They are the reason you stayed behind, the reason you now feel a deep sense of contentment despite the ache of being apart from your husband. Here, in this room, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the presence of your children, you find peace.

Rickon stirs in your arms, making a soft, contented noise, and you gently rock him, brushing a kiss against his tiny forehead. “Hush now, little one,” you murmur softly, your voice filled with a tenderness that surprises even you. “Your father will be home soon, and then we’ll all be together again.”

The thought of Cregan’s return brings a soft smile to your lips. You imagine him walking through the doors of the great hall, his face breaking into a rare, warm smile as he sees you and the children waiting for him. You imagine the feel of his arms around you, the strength and warmth that have always been your greatest comfort. You imagine introducing him to Rickon, watching as he takes his newborn son in his arms for the first time, the pride and love shining in his gray eyes.

But for now, you are content. Content to be here, with your children, safe in the heart of Winterfell. You have known loss, grief, and the cold touch of betrayal, but you have also known love, fierce and unyielding, and that love has given you these three beautiful children, each one a piece of your heart walking around outside your body.

“Look, Mother!” Killian’s excited voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up to see him holding Vexion aloft, the little dragon’s wings flapping furiously as he tries to stay airborne. “Vexion’s learning to fly!”

You laugh softly, a sound full of warmth and joy. “He’s doing wonderfully, my love. Just like you.”

Killian beams at your praise, setting Vexion down gently on the floor. The dragon immediately scampers over to Alysane’s miniature Winterfell, sniffing curiously at the wooden figures. Alysane giggles, gently guiding him away from her carefully arranged scene.

You watch them with a full heart, feeling the warmth of the fire, the weight of your newborn son, and the love that fills this room. Yes, you wish you could be with Cregan, standing beside him as he delivers justice, but you also know that this—being here, with your children, holding Rickon close—is where you are meant to be.

You lean back in your chair, closing your eyes for just a moment, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to wash over you. Soon, Cregan will return, and your family will be whole again. Until then, you have this—this quiet, this warmth, this love. And that is more than enough.

The air in Winterfell is crisp with the first touch of spring as you stand at the gates, your heart pounding with anticipation. The sun is low in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard where you wait with your children. The news of Cregan’s return reached you only this morning, and ever since, you’ve been unable to keep the smile from your face. You’ve missed him with a deep, aching intensity, and the thought of having him home again fills you with a joy that’s almost overwhelming.

Killian and Alysane stand beside you, both of them practically bouncing with excitement. Killian’s hand is clutching Vexion’s leash, the little dragon sitting obediently at his feet, though his violet eyes are alert, as if he too can sense the importance of this moment. Alysane’s hand is in yours, her small fingers squeezing tightly as she peers down the road, searching for the first sign of her father.

The minutes feel like hours, but then, finally, you see them: the first of the riders cresting the hill, the Stark banners flapping in the wind, and your heart skips a beat. Cregan is home.

As the riders draw closer, you spot him at the front of the group, his dark hair falling loose around his shoulders, his broad frame unmistakable even from a distance. The sight of him stirs something deep inside you, a rush of warmth and love that makes your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“Father!” Killian’s voice breaks through your reverie, and before you can stop him, he’s running across the courtyard, Vexion darting after him with a playful roar. Alysane releases your hand and follows suit, her laughter ringing out as she races to meet her father.

Cregan dismounts with ease, dropping to one knee just in time to catch Killian in his arms. Alysane is close behind, and he sweeps her up as well, holding both of them tightly against his chest. His deep laugh rumbles through the air, the sound of it filling your heart with a warmth that melts away the last remnants of the cold that had settled there in his absence.

You watch them, your vision blurring slightly with tears. This is what you’ve been waiting for, what you’ve dreamed of during the long nights alone—this moment, when your family is together again.

Finally, Cregan looks up, his gray eyes meeting yours across the distance. For a moment, the world seems to stop, and it’s just the two of you, connected by the unspoken love that has always been the foundation of your bond. He rises to his feet, one arm still wrapped around each of your children, and as he walks toward you, you feel your breath catch in your throat.

When he’s close enough, you close the distance between you, your hands reaching up to cup his face. His skin is cool from the journey, but beneath it, you can feel the warmth that has always drawn you to him, the steady, reassuring presence that you’ve missed so much.

“Cregan,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

He smiles, that rare, genuine smile that’s reserved only for you and your children. “Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice deep and rough with emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

And then his lips are on yours, gentle at first, but quickly deepening as the months of longing and separation melt away. His kiss is everything you’ve needed, everything you’ve craved—warmth, love, passion, and the undeniable connection that has always bound you together. You lose yourself in him, in the taste of him, the feel of him, the way his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as if he can’t bear to let you go.

For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you, lost in each other. You can feel the beat of his heart against your chest, strong and steady, a reminder that he’s here, he’s home, and you’re safe in his arms.

When you finally pull back, your forehead rests against his, and you take a moment to just breathe him in, to savor the feel of him against you. “I’m so glad you’re home,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

Cregan’s hand comes up to brush a strand of silver hair away from your face, his touch tender and filled with love. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he replies, his eyes soft as they gaze into yours.

Killian and Alysane, sensing that they’re witnessing something special, are unusually quiet as they cling to their father’s legs. But you can see the joy in their eyes, the way they look up at him with adoration and love.

Cregan glances down at them, and then back at you, his smile widening as he takes in the sight of his family. “I’ve missed so much,” he says, his voice tinged with regret.

You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “You did what you had to do. And now, you’re home. That’s all that matters.”

He nods, his eyes shining with the same love and pride that you feel swelling in your chest. “I’m home,” he repeats, as if savoring the words. Then, he looks at you, his expression turning more serious. “How is Rickon?”

Your heart swells at the mention of your youngest, and you can’t help but smile. “He’s perfect, Cregan. Just like his father.”

Cregan’s smile softens, and there’s a tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. “I can’t wait to meet him,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, taking his hand and leading him toward the keep. “He’s waiting for you,” you say softly. “We all were.”

The walk to the great hall is short, but it feels like a journey, each step bringing you closer to the home you’ve longed for, the completeness you’ve missed. When you enter the hall, the warmth of the fire greets you, along with the familiar scents of Winterfell. But it’s the sight of the small cradle by the hearth that draws your eyes.

Cregan steps forward, his movements careful and reverent as he approaches the cradle. Rickon is awake, his tiny fists waving in the air, and when Cregan leans down to look at him, you see the wonder and awe in his eyes.

“He’s beautiful,” Cregan whispers, reaching out to gently touch his son’s cheek. Rickon’s eyes, a soft gray like his father’s, blink up at him, and a small, contented smile spreads across his tiny face.

“He looks just like you,” you say softly, stepping beside Cregan and slipping your hand into his.

Cregan shakes his head, his eyes never leaving Rickon’s. “No,” he says quietly, “he looks like us.”

The words bring a lump to your throat, and you lean into Cregan’s side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. This is your family—whole, safe, and together.

You stay like that for a long moment, just watching Cregan with Rickon, feeling the love and contentment that fills the room. Then, slowly, Cregan straightens, his eyes still filled with that soft, tender light as he looks at you.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice full of meaning.

You smile up at him, your heart full to bursting. “For what?”

“For giving me this,” he replies, his hand gently squeezing yours. “For our children, our home… for everything.”

You reach up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against the rough stubble that you’ve missed so much. “We built this together,” you say softly. “And now, we’ll enjoy it together.”

Cregan’s eyes darken with emotion, and he leans down to capture your lips in another kiss, this one slow and full of promise. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel his breath mingling with yours.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers, the words a vow, a promise, and a declaration all at once.

“I love you too, Cregan,” you reply, your voice filled with all the love and devotion you feel for him.

The world outside may be cold and harsh, but here, in this moment, in this place, you are warm, safe, and complete. Cregan is home, your children are safe, and your family is whole. And that is all you need.

Excerpt from Fire and Blood by Archmaester Glyndwyr, Chapter: "The Hour of the Wolf and the Dawn of the Dragon"

The Dragon That Followed the Wolf

In the aftermath of the Dance of the Dragons, the realm lay in ruin, its people exhausted from years of bloodshed and treachery. The Iron Throne, once a symbol of absolute power, had become a seat of sorrow and conflict. Aegon III, the Dragonbane, who had ascended to the throne at a young age after the fall of his mother, Rhaenyra, found himself ill-suited to the demands of kingship. His reign, though marked by attempts at restoration, was overshadowed by the lingering shadow of the civil war and his own deep-seated melancholy.

It was in this time of uncertainty and discontent that voices began to rise among the lords of Westeros, calling for a new ruler—one who could unite the fractured realm and bring about a new era of prosperity. These voices soon coalesced around a single name: Killian Stark, son of Cregan Stark and Y/N Velaryon, a boy of strong bloodlines and even stronger will, who had already shown promise as a dragonrider, bonded to Vexion, a dragon of Thraxata’s clutch.

Killian's lineage was beyond question. As the great-grandson of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon, his claim combined the noble blood of House Targaryen and House Velaryon with the unyielding strength of House Stark. With his mother Y/N, the only daughter of Rhaenyra, and his father, Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, Killian embodied the unity of the North and the Targaryen bloodline.

It was Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, who first championed Killian’s cause. The aged and wise Lord of the Tides, having outlived nearly all of his contemporaries, saw in his great-grandson the potential to restore what had been lost. The Sea Snake's influence and respect among the lords of Westeros were unmatched, and his advocacy for Killian as the rightful heir to the throne was taken with the utmost seriousness.

Corlys's argument was simple yet compelling: the realm needed a king who was not only of noble blood but also one who could command the loyalty of the dragonlords and the great houses alike. Killian, with his Stark resolve and Targaryen fire, was that king. He was a boy with the blood of the dragon in his veins, and unlike his predecessors, he had a dragon at his side—a symbol of the power that once ruled the skies of Westeros. Vexion, though young, was already growing into a fearsome beast, his deep midnight blue scales and violet eyes a reminder of the might of House Targaryen.

The Great Council of 138 AC was convened at Harrenhal, a place chosen for its neutrality, to decide the fate of the realm. The lords of Westeros, weary of war and eager for stability, gathered to debate the future. Among those who spoke for Killian was not only Corlys Velaryon but also his father, Cregan Stark, who had already proven his dedication to justice during the Hour of the Wolf when he served as Hand of the King and dispensed justice to those who had betrayed the realm.

Cregan Stark was a man of honor and few words, but his presence at the council carried weight. It was said that when Cregan rose to speak, the hall fell silent, and every lord in attendance felt the weight of his words. He did not advocate for his son out of ambition but out of duty—to his family, to the realm, and to the memory of those who had suffered and died during the Dance of the Dragons. He spoke of the need for a ruler who could command both respect and fear, a king who could rebuild what had been broken, and a dragonlord who could ensure that the skies of Westeros would never again be darkened by treachery and betrayal.

The lords of Westeros, many of whom had fought in the Dance or had seen their lands ravaged by it, were moved by the arguments presented. They saw in Killian Stark the hope of a new beginning, a ruler who could bridge the divides that had torn the realm apart. The fact that he was a dragonrider only strengthened his claim, for the memory of dragonfire was still fresh in the minds of many, and the power of the dragon was seen as essential to maintaining order in a realm as vast and diverse as the Seven Kingdoms.

Thus, it was decided by the Great Council that Aegon III, whose reign had been marred by personal tragedy and political strife, would abdicate the throne in favor of Killian Stark. Aegon, who had always been more comfortable away from the throne than upon it, accepted the decision with grace, retiring to Dragonstone, where he would live out the remainder of his days in relative peace.

On the first day of the new year, in 139 AC, Killian Stark was crowned as King Killian I of House Stark and Targaryen, the Dragon-Wolf, first of his name. His coronation was a grand affair, attended by lords and ladies from across the realm, each of whom pledged their loyalty to the new king. As the crown of Aegon the Conqueror was placed upon his brow, Vexion let out a mighty roar, his wings unfurling as he took to the skies above the Red Keep, a symbol of the new age that had dawned in Westeros.

The reign of King Killian I was marked by a period of reconstruction and renewal. With his parents by his side—Cregan Stark as his most trusted advisor, and Y/N Velaryon as the queen mother—he worked to restore the realm to its former glory. The North and South were united as never before, and under his rule, the great houses of Westeros found a new sense of purpose and loyalty to the crown.

During their marriage, Cregan and Y/N had more children, each of whom played a role in the continued stability of the realm. Their eldest daughter, Alysane Stark, was married to the heir of the Vale, further strengthening the bonds between the North and the South. Their younger sons, Rickon and Jory, were given lordships and served as key figures in the court, ensuring that the realm remained united and strong.

King Killian I’s reign saw the rebuilding of many of the great castles and cities that had been destroyed during the Dance. The Targaryen bloodline was secured through alliances with the other dragonlord houses, and the power of the Iron Throne was restored. The scars of the past were not forgotten, but they were healed, and the realm once again prospered under the rule of a strong, just, and wise king.

In the end, the Dragon-Wolf proved to be the ruler that Westeros needed—a king who could command both the loyalty of his subjects and the respect of his enemies. His reign ushered in a new era of peace and prosperity, and his legacy would be remembered for generations to come as the king who brought the broken realm back to life.

Thus ends the account of King Killian I, the Dragon-Wolf, and the legacy of House Stark and Targaryen.

#house of the dragon #hotd x female reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #cregan x y/n #hotd cregan #cregan x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark

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zweetpea · 2 months

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so please imagine if you will…

CW: Babies

Imagine You and Gojo as teens. Him being a total player and you being his “innocent” chaotic junior by a year.

Imagine you’ve got a bit of a rivalry going on. Him with all his... stuff... and you with... let's say with a Nullifying cursed Technique.

Imagine you guys grew up together. You always had an edge on him in a fight up until he unlocked his reversed curse technique during his second year at Jujustu Tech.

Imagine that somewhere in your studies you and Gojo had a heart to heart about your futures. It's late... maybe you guys are pulling an all-nighter. He reveals in a moment of what he perceived as weakness his insecurities being the next head of the Gojo clan brought him. How he didn't feel like he'd ever fall in love. How he knew felt like the higher ups would push an arranged marriage onto him. How he was scared that he wouldn't be a good husband or father. And his biggest fear that any child he did bring into this world would have to face the same hardships he did only without the six eyes to back it up. How he felt guilty for taking that opportunity away from them.

Imagine shifting his head onto your lap in that moment and proposing a deal to him. If you both were single by the time you hit 25 you'd marry each other. That way he wouldn't have to worry about whether or not he'd be a good partner. Or how strong his kids could be. Or what kind of woman the higher ups would try to force him to be with.

Imagine after that day he never went on another date for a decade. waiting for the day you'd get married and he could finally have babies with you to keep the Gojo legacy alive.

Imagine him sabotaging any dates you get over the next decade. Being jealous and possessive of you in front of any guys who might find you attractive. (In his mind it's all of them)

Imagine him never telling you any of this You probably already know

Imagine after a while you move away to pursue a career somewhere else because of how clingy and obsessive Gojo has gotten. Completely forgetting about the promise you made and coincidentally not being able to pursue a real relationship because of being a sorcerer.

Imagine on your 25th birthday you get a text from a random number asking you a bunch of strange questions. "Red velvet's still your favorite cake flavor right?" "Is royal blue and rose gold tacky?" "Is rose gold still your favorite color?" "Out of these options which dress is your favorite?" They're all very short cocktail wedding dressed.

Imagine obviously ignoring this stalker. Going about your day. Maybe getting a few drinks with some friends after their work days were over. And when you uber home a bit tipsy you find someone waiting for you in your living room.

"Sweetheart! You're home! And you're wasted!" Gojo held you and kissed your temple. "Come on let's get you cleaned up and get you to bed."

"Gojo? I'm not drunk I'm just a bit buzzed. How and why are you here?"

"Come on, babe. Call me Satoru! I'm here to celebrate your birthday and our engagement!"

"Huh?"

Imagine how sweet he could be as he picks you up in a princess carry and takes you to the bathroom. Carefully getting you cleaned up and reminding you about your deal, and of course asking if you got his texts. You merely laugh and kiss his cheek.

Imagine how the next morning you wake up and roll over in bed only to come face to chest with him.

"How'd you get in my bed?" You'd smile at him.

"I carried my lovely wife here last night, after she got drunk off her ass."

"I thought I told you to sleep on the couch."

"I was lonely." He'd whine and press his cheek against the top of your head.

Imagine how he'd take care of most of the wedding preparations. (except the dress cause ain't no way you bout to look like some hooker barbie on your big day) And him giving you his mother's wedding ring. Just the two of you and a few close friends having a small, intimate ceremony.

Imagine "Forgetting" to tell the higher ups about the union so they call him in to have a meeting with him telling him that they've selected a woman to be his wife. He laughs in their faces as he pulls out his phone and pulls up a photo of you pregnant with his baby.

Imagine his smirk when they all start to freak out and protest. And oh boy...

Imagine how that smirk falls when one of them suggests that the baby isn't his...

Imagine him coming home all bloody. His smile as wide as ever as he informs you that "It's not mine" or his rather. And how you just hand him some new clothes and push him towards the shower.

Imagine how thrilled he is when he finally gets to hold his baby in his arms. The silent vindication he feels seeing as the baby looks exactly like him.

"I spend 12 hours squeezing you out of my body and you have the audacity to look like your father. You really are a Gojo."

Just please Imagine it all for me if you will

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endless-ineffabilities · 4 months

Text

But Daddy, I Love Him (chapter one)

Daemon Targaryen x f!reader

synopsis : the reader is a daughter of the Lord of House Arwen - ever so dutiful and mild-mannered. Slated to be the lady wife of some highborn Lord, someone who is noble and decent. Not the volatile Rogue Prince. Not Daemon Targaryen.

in this chapter : The Rogue Prince and the reader meet. Their fates entwine. A fool is made out of a Lady.

themes/warnings : Daemon being Daemon is a warning in itself, Daemon has a superiority complex, highborn!reader, House Arwen is my own creation (name inspired by lotr!)

series list : chapter one - chapter two - chapter three

word count : 2k ▪︎ masterlist

a/n : the title and the series concept inspired by the TS song ofc <3

Dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid. Tendrils tucked into a woven braid...

Your chambers. The Godswood. The library.

Every day is the same. The mornings start with your ladies in waiting helping you prepare for the day. Running your bath, carefully pressing your frocks, lacing you up in your bodice. Making sure each lock of hair is in place, the right amount of rouge dabbed against the apples of your cheeks.

You were once a perfect little girl, now a perfect little lady.

Soon a perfect little lady wife.

This is your story, already woven, already told time and time again. The same story for all ladies of your standing.

All you have to do is to be good. And so you are.

Thank the gods for the stories you read, enabling you jump into different lives. Adventures and romances you know you will never have, not truly. But you are happy to play the fool with every page turned.

The library has become your safe haven, your home within your home. Nestled high in the sprawling castle of House Arwen. Nothing can disturb you here. No one.

Or so you thought.

The very first words you hear Daemon Targaryen say to you come across as rather rude. You will find in time that he does not mean to be rude. Not all the time, that is. This is just how he is.

"I have always found that story rather dull. Amusing how you seem to be so engrossed in it, my lady."

"Excuse me, but I will you have you know - " you raise your head, taking in the visitor. Or intruder.

"Prince Daemon," you rise from your seat, offering a well-practiced curtsy. An instinctive move of obeisance for a lady like you.

He barely acknowledges your gesture, his face flat and impassive. "That book. I was forced to read it in my youth. Our Maester all but shoved it down my throat."

You immediately do not take to his approach. That book is one of the most famous tales from Old Valyria. He should know, being of Valyrian blood and all.

"I believe there is much to like about this book, my Prince."

"Such as?"

"Well, it depicts a warrior knight of Old - "

"Some warrior knight," Daemon scoffs, not even letting you finish your statement. "He gave up his powers for the love of a wench he knew for just a fortnight. He had every chance at glory but he squandered all of it away. For what?"

"For... for love?" comes your response, though you know he did not really want one.

For someone who claims to dislike this story so much, he sure knows it well.

He mindlessly taps his fingers on a nearby shelf, eyes lazily reading the titles. Drifting through the room with the unmistakeable disdain of someone who is used to having so much, the world practically by his feet, but is disinterested with it all.

You think that you could fall dead right then and Daemon wouldn't care. Wouldn't even bat an eyelash. He rolls his eyes at your mention of love, and it does not help your impression of him.

"There are only two things worthy of love in my eyes, my lady, and that is power and blood."

"Blood? Well, my prince, family is one of the most important - "

"Blood is not the same for me as it is for you. My blood carries a legacy of fire and magic, being of Old Valyria. You would not possibly understand how I hold my blood in high regard."

Oh may the gods strike him down now.

Your hands clench into fists, pressing against your skirts, but you don't have it in you to notice the unladylike gesture. All you can think of is letting him have a piece of your mind. "A family can have a flock of sheep or a horde of dragons, my prince, and it makes no difference to me. Your family is your family, your blood is your blood. But whether you choose to love them does not solely depend on blood."

It is as if he sees for you for the first time then, the moment you show that you have your own voice, and that you will not simply cater to his whims.

He turns eager to press you further, make you break, make you cave in. "What of you, my lady? What is it that you find worthy of love? Family, I presume, from your poorly formed argument? What about a lord husband?"

"I do love my family," you nod. "And when I do wed, I am sure I will love my lord husband just as dearly."

He walks closer, but does not stop in front of you as is the polite thing to do in conversation. He circles you, and you feel exposed by the way he openly takes you in. "Oh, but how will you know? You do not have a choice, do you? How can that be love?"

You do not answer right away, for the prince has just voiced one of your biggest fears. What if you do not find love in your lord husband? What sort of life would that entail? One which you have been preparing for since you entered womanhood, one you always thought you would be willing to accept. It is your duty, after all.

So you say just that. "It is my duty, and if I am able to fulfil my duty, then I am certain that will bring me happiness."

Daemon scoffs, his lips forming a self-righteous sneer. "In the story, do you then think that the warrior knight would have been better off fulfilling his duty and abandoning his love?"

"It is not the same."

"It is exactly the same."

"No," you emphasize, "because he had a choice. I do not."

He had stopped right in front of you, a bit too close for comfort, almost as if he needs to lean in to scrutinize you fully. "Love is the death of duty, my lady. Take my word for it, you would be far better off playing your role. If you truly wish to honour your family, you would not fall in love at all."

He's so close that you can feel his breath fanning your face. If you didn't know any better, you would believe that simply being so near Daemon Targaryen is the reason why your body feels like it is on fire. He gives off heat like a furnace, like a dragon.

Maybe he is a dragon. Is that not what they all say about Targaryens?

You open your mouth to take a breath, lest your throat also burns from the dry warmth, your stomach curling adding to your nerves. It prompts you to ask, "What about you, my prince? Has duty stolen every chance you have at love?"

His eyes draw downward to your lips, and his faint blonde lashes catch the light. The Rogue Prince does look otherwordly. Everything you have heard about him has been inadequate.

His violet eyes meet yours once more. "I would not bother with such frivolity. As I said, my lady, power and blood are all there is."

"Perhaps so. Perhaps true love only exists in the stories that I read."

"You are learning," he nods, and offers what might be his first genuine smile to you.

"Nevertheless," you step away from him, and carry your book back to the shelf. "I do not fault the warrior knight for choosing love over glory. I would choose as he had done, if that were a possibility."

His response is glib, but not meant to offend. "Then you are a fool, my lady."

"I wish I were a fool, my prince," you smile, lowering your gaze. "Aren't all fools happy?"

"You wish nothing more than to be mere mummer who has found happiness in love."

"If only," you say. It's surprising how easy you're finding it to engage in conversation with him. It feels like you have known him for many moons and not only for this moment.

The Rogue Prince, of all people. Which begs the question, what is he doing in the library of House Arwen?

"Pardon me, my prince, but why have you graced us with your presence this morning?"

He turns serious, almost bored, that he has to acknowledge the reason for his visit. "My brother, the King, has sent me to relay an official decree to your Lord father. He is to accept the position of Master of Coin for the small council."

"He... he is?" you swallow. This would mean that you have to go with him and live in the Red Keep. This also signals that your betrothal to Tyland Lannister is afoot. Your father had recently paid a visit to Casterly Rock to arrange for your marriage to Tyland or Jason Lannister. If it is to be with Jason, you would be sent to Casterly Rock. If Tyland, your father would take the offer to be part of the small council. You are to accompany him and begin courtship with the Master of Ships.

At least it will be Tyland and not Jason.

"Yes, I am supposed to meet your Maester here in the library to deliver the royal decree," Daemon replies, the task so insignificant to him, unaware that he has just delivered news that determines the course of your life.

Not that it makes any difference. Your father has always wanted to join houses with either the Lannisters or the Baratheons. Forge a true Westerosi alliance. It seems that he will finally get his wish.

Your thinking gets the better of you, and you stand unmoving, the weight of duty suddenly feeling too much to bear.

Daemon's face scrunches in what can misconstrued be concern. But surely he isn't. He must only be uncomfortable at your sudden silence and blank expression.

"Is something the matter? Are you not pleased that your father is graced with an opportunity such as this?"

"Of course. I am sure that he would be delighted."

"You do not seem to be."

No, you aren't. While you have met Tyland Lannister before, there was never any attraction there. From your side and his. Yours would be a marriage of convenience, for the benefit of both Houses.

How I wish I was the warrior knight.

"It matters not how I feel, my prince."

There is movement by the doors, and the old Maester rushes in all out of breath.

"My prince!" He calls out immediately. "My deepest apologies that I have kept you waiting."

Daemon pays him no mind. His attention is solely on you. Conscious that the Maester observes the exchange, you clear your throat. "I shall take my leave, my prince. The Maester will see to you now."

You tilt your head and curtsy in farewell. As you pass by Daemon, your hand brushes against his, the pads of his knuckes rough against your own. The first and likely the only time your skin will come into contact with his, you strangely think with regret. Still, it catches you off guard and you feel a sensation like needles pricking all the way up your arm.

"My lady," he greets, and under his breath, making sure the Maester cannot hear, he adds, "my lady fool."

Another smile is shared between the two of you.

Love is the death of duty, he had said. Sooner rather than late, you will find out just how it rings true.

Supper with your Lord father is but another constant. You have always been grateful for it, especially since the passing of your late mother.

He is the only family you have around, with your elder sister already married off to some Lord in the Riverlands. She has already done what was expected of her, securing an alliance for House Arwen and bearing children for her Lord Husband.

The mantle has been passed on to you. It was never something to ponder over, as it is not something in your control.

Do your duty. Play your role. Pray that you never fall in love at all, Daemon said.

But might I fall in love with Tyland? Should that not be what I aim for?

"I heard that you encountered Prince Daemon this morning," your father says. "I trust that you acted accordingly as befits his station."

"Of course, father."

"Though it matters little to me how that rogue prince fares." The derision in his tone cannot be contained. Your father has never held Prince Daemon in any regard, viewing him as a waste of his titles.

"The Prince was gracious enough to exchange pleasantries with me."

Pleasantries. Never mind how he mocked your story, your family, and by extension, you.

"Careful, daughter. Prince Daemon is never loathe to chase after the nearest skirt that catches his fancy. I feel for his newly betrothed, the Lady Laena Velaryon. Far too good for him, that one."

"Daemon is betrothed?" you ask, unable to hide your surprise. Last you heard, his wife Rhea Royce passed in a tragic hunting accident. You also heard the whispers that she perished by her husband's hand.

After finally meeting him, you would not count it as an impossibility. But some part of you does not want to believe that he could be capable of something so vile.

"Yes, Prince Daemon has been betrothed once more. No doubt the most fruitful union for their Houses," your father confirms. With all this talk of betrothals, you already know what is coming, but your stomach sinks all the same when he adds, "as will be the union of House Arwen and House Lannister, dear daughter. You should consider yourself highly fortunate. I have toiled considerably to bring about your betrothal to Tyland Lannister."

"Of course, father." The words are empty, worn through, forever echoing in your ears.

Of course. I will do my duty. What is love after all, but a passing fancy, mere fiction entombed in between pages?

The red scales of the infamous Blood Wyrm glisten under the bright sunlight.

Caraxes lets off an ear-splitting screech as Daemon guides him across the skies.

"Daor tolmiot sir." The Valyrian smoothly comes from Daemon like a song. Not far now.

Not far from the seat of House Arwen in the Westerlands. His destination, for some unknown reason.

Just the seventh day after he was sent to deliver the decree, he finds himself returning once more. It is the day that your Lord father, yourself, and the rest of your envoy are set to ride for King's Landing.

And Daemon has decided to extend an offer to you, the Lady Arwen, one that might infinitely expedite your travels.

There were a myriad of justifications floating around in his head. He found out that you are betrothed to Tyland Lannister and his actions on this day would no doubt ruffle the preening lion's mane.

Anything to needlessly anger a Lannister, Daemon would enjoy.

He would revel in the pleasure of bespoiling such a prim and strait-laced Lady such as yourself. It would be like sport to him.

It must also not be forgotten that this would rouse the ire of your Lord father, who has never held any love for Daemon and vice versa.

All these reasons make complete sense to Daemon. All but one which he does not allow himself to entertain.

That he wishes to see you.

Who are you, if not just another proper wench with your honour and your faith for the Seven Gods up your arse? Daemon has much more discerning tastes, from dragonrider to tavern whore, but never one with your disposition.

You are nothing to Daemon. No one.

But that does not mean he will refrain from indulging in the pleasure of causing chaos.

The clouds part as Caraxes dips lower, revealing the outline of your meagre castle.

"Sepār ilagon konīr." Daemon refers to the inner courtyard where a line of carriages await, precious possessions being lugged onto them by footsoldiers.

Caraxes dives down with precision, his wings casting a shadow over the courtyard as he suddenly descends, leaving everyone startled.

Daemon's boots heavily crunch against the gravel as he jumps down, and he scans the wary crowd for his prize.

Soldiers rising to attention, bowing their heads to their prince. Ladies-in-waiting openly ogling him as he draws nearer. The Maester and his apprentices approaching him with rushed greetings springing from their mouths.

And then, there you are.

Standing just behind the small crowd, whispering hurriedly to your companion. You shush when you spy Daemon heading right for you.

"My prince." You perform the usual curtsy. Daemon thinks the movement does not suit you. He much preferred it when you were getting riled up at his remarks back at your library.

"My lady," he greets. "Lovely weather we are having, is it not?"

You appear confused, your eyes narrowing and nose scrunching for but a brief moment, and Daemon relishes in prompting such an unguarded expression. But it reverts back into your polished smile.

"Yes, it... it is, my prince. Forgive me, but I was not aware that we were expecting you."

No. Of course not. "Let me rephrase that. It is lovely weather for dragonriding, and I am inclined to think that you would enjoy the journey to the Red Keep."

"I am afraid I do not follow."

Daemon gets right to the point and his next words ring true, leaving no room for doubt as to his intentions. "My lady, I would like for you to ride with me."

Your posture becomes slack, and you gape at him like he has grown a second head.

"That would be inappropriate, my prince."

"No," he sneers. "It would be inappropriate if I take you for myself right there on the dragonsaddle, my lady, but I merely wish to offer a ride."

Your companion blushes profusely at his words. Apparently the image affects her so much all she can do is stare at her feet.

You, on the other hand, are unyielding. Your eyes blazing right through his own violet. A nagging voice in Daemon's mind insists that this is what he came for. Nothing else.

You finally say, "It is unbecoming of me to even entertain that notion, Prince Daemon. My Lord father and my betrothed would surely not approve."

Daemon takes a step closer, and the two of you stand nearly toe to toe. "But do you not wish it? Do you not wish to fly on dragonback? Much like the heroes in your stories I would wager."

"Those are just stories. It would be foolish of me."

Daemon laughs dryly, "My lady, is that not what you are? A lady fool who dreams of adventure and love?"

You frown when he has you cornered, your thoughts whirring in that foolish head of yours. Daemon feels the need to run his thumb over your pursed lips.

Perhaps I am the foolish one.

The Maester interrupts, breaking the impasse, nervously looking between the two of you.

"My prince," he says, "if you came to speak to the Lord Arwen, he is still in his chambers. He should be on his way down shortly."

You glance at the Maester then back to Daemon, awaiting his response, but he has none to offer.

You tilt your head disapprovingly at his outright discourtesy until he extends his hand to you. "My lady," he says with sincerity, "you shall be made a good lady wife soon enough, but today I invite you to be foolish with your prince."

It is the Maester who speaks, "My prince, the Lady Arwen must not - "

But you rudely interrupt, a newfound fire blazing in your eyes. "Is it as exhilarating as the stories say?"

"Enough to please a fool," Daemon replies.

With a smile, you fit your hand right into his, consequences be damned.

I may not write for him as often, but Daemon just might be my favourite to characterize and the most fun to weave stories with 🖤

This is a fixed miniseries, with a more or less fixed story, so it will only a three-parter.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #matt smith #hotd

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wileys-russo · 7 months

Note

Leah, London Colney, “I may aswell just retire”

legacy II l.williamson

"lee! baby we've gotta go in five have you packed her bag?" you yelled out from your daughters bedroom, sat on the bed with the three year old on your lap as you quickly braided her hair so it would be out of her face all day.

“i have snacks, her blanket, her mini ball, her teddy, her inhaler, her water bottle, her headphones, her beanie, her rain jacket, a change of clothes and a story book.” leah recounted as she burst into the room with the bright red backpack in hand.

"gunner!" mila chirped as you tied off the second braid and your wife looked like she could have exploded with joy. "yes you are, mummys little future gunner." leah cooed, tickling her stomach as you rolled your eyes.

"she means the dinosaur einstein." you pointed to the bright green mascot sat on the desk as leah turned.

"you are so mean to me when we have early morning training darling, i've half a mind to tell jonas you aren't allowed to train until eleven." leah sighed with a shake of her head as you stood and hoisted mila onto your hip.

"you love it mrs williamson." you grinned, pecking her lips and breezing past as she followed suit with the backpack in hand. "maybe only a little mrs williamson." you stiffened as her hand smacked against your ass.

"leah! the baby." you hissed in warning, your daughter in a critical parrot phase as you'd both lovingly dubbed it, repeating nearly everything and anything she watched either of you do or say.

and with your wifes potty mouth and tendency to gossip it had gotten the pair of you into hot water more than once in the last few weeks.

like just yesterday when leahs mum had tried to put her down for a nap and was promptly told to fuck off, something mila had heard leah shout at the tv while watching a premier league game when you both thought she was asleep in bed, not hovering by the doorway with eager little ears.

"im not a baby!" mila protested with a scowl that was scarily similar to the blonde standing behind her. "yes you are, you could be forty and you'll still be my baby." leah shrugged as your daughter huffed and you cleared your throat.

"our baby." leah corrected with a charming smile as you hummed, taking your daughters backpack out of her hand and grabbing the car keys as leah made sure to take both of your gym bags as the three of you headed out.

"shark song!" mila cheered as you buckled her into her car seat and leah slipped into the drivers side after tossing all the bags in the back. "bubba isn't there any other song you'd like?" leah asked hopefully with a pained winced as you closed your door and sat in your own seat.

"shark song! shark song! shark song!" the three year old chanted pumping her fists and kicking her feet out as if she'd just won the world cup and you grinned, phone connecting and clicking play on baby shark as leah groaned.

"i'm going to murder kyra." leah stated bluntly toward the culprit behind milas obsession with the overtly catchy kids tune, shifting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway as you leaned across the console and kissed her cheek.

"just look how happy it makes her baby." you chuckled nodding behind you as leah glanced to your daughter who was wiggling and dancing in her seat, screaming along to the lyrics.

"she's lucky she's cute." leah shook her head, smile tugging at her lips as she faced forward and sped onto the main road.

"well she gets that from you."

"leah! there is no way she's going to eat all that." your eyes widened in disbelief as the blonde placed down your daughters breakfast plate in front of you before sitting on your other side with her own.

"mama i'm a growing girl!" mila protested, echoing leahs exact words from dinner last night as you shot your wife a filthy look who wasted no time pecking your lips apologetically.

"me!" mila craned her head back as leah grinned, attacking the three year olds face with kisses as everyone at the table visibly melted at the sound of her giggles echoing around the room.

"hey mila can aunty beffy have some bacon pretty please?" beth asked with a smile from across the table. "good luck." leah mumbled with a shake of her head. "no! my bacon." mila frowned and covered her plate protectively.

"well if there was ever any doubt she's leahs, thats squashed it." kim shrugged as your wife grinned and pushed her playfully. "but mila im so hungry! i might fall off my chair from starvation." beth groaned dramatically, collapsing into her girlfriend who looked down at her unamused.

"didn't ask don't care." mila chirped your own words from dinner last night as leah choked on her eggs and kim whacked her on the back. "that ones on you!" your wife warned as you blushed, mumbling a gentle reminder to your daughter about manners.

"hey mila can aunty wally have a piece of bacon please?" lia asked from your other side as mila nodded, pushing her plate closer and wiggling herself up from your lap as you hurried to steady her as she stood on your knees.

"mila!" beth gasped in betrayal, lia scooting her chair back as your daughter clambered over to sit with her now instead, seemingly more than happy to share her breakfast with her godmother who gave the blonde across the table a victorious smirk as she bit down on a piece of bacon.

"i play now?" you looked down with a smile as a tiny body clung onto your leg, mila recognizing the sound of the whistle to mean she was now able to run around the pitch freely with her aunties as training was over.

"you play now. who do you wanna kick with today bubba?" you squatted down and brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face. "aunty lessi!" your daughter held her arms up at your best friend whose face lit up.

"now how could i ever say no to you?" the blonde picked her up right away before tossing her in the air and catching her, pulling a face and making mila giggle. "careful less." you warned sternly, the girl waving you off as she grabbed a ball.

"whose on the other team?" alessia whispered to your daughter as a few of the girls lined up, mila frowning as she looked them over. "lots, steffy, mummy and kimmy!" mila decided, simply naming all four girls who lined up making everyone grin.

"okay. remember what we practiced at our sleepover?" alessia placed mila down and squatted to her level, hands on her shoulders as your daughter nodded. "no mercy!" mila yelled making a few of the girls snicker.

"that was aunty mary, not me." alessia teased, pulling down mila's beanie over her eyes as she whined and quickly fixed it as her ball was placed by her feet. "okay. go!" alessia clapped, jogging beside her as your daughter gave it a kick.

one by one she kicked past her defenders, the girls all falling dramatically to the ground making her giggle as alessia continued to coach her forward, now only leah standing in the way of the goal.

"leah!" you called out in warning, recognizing your wifes competitive drive ran deep and she had no problem teaching your daughter 'how to lose gracefully' despite the fact it wasn't a lesson you'd say leah actually knew herself.

though if the blonde defender heard you she didn't acknowledge it, smirk on her face as the girls all cheered for mila who had an adorably concentrated frown on her features now.

"shoot shoot shoot!" alessia encouraged with a clap, mila kicking the ball as hard as she could and you held your breath knowing it had been a long morning and with your daughter due for a nap soon it wouldn't take much to set her off if leah chose not to let her have this goal.

though you breathed a sigh of relief as the ball rolled through your wifes legs and she fell to the ground with a dramatic cry, a soft smile on your face as mila jumped on top of her with a cheer.

"goaaaalll!" alessia cupped her hands over her mouth and cheered, scooping the tiny blonde up and hoisting her on her shoulders, sprinting around on a victory lap and assuring she held on very tightly.

you grabbed a bottle of water and made your way over toward leah who sat up, accepting your hand as you helped her up and were quickly drawn into her hold.

"does it still hurt she's following in my footsteps and not yours?" you teased, squealing as leahs cold hands crept up your top and she playfully bit your neck.

"with a goal like that under her belt i may as well just retire." leah sighed, arms wound around your neck as she gently swayed the two of you side to side, both of you watching on fondly as your daughter raced around with her auties.

"shit its past her nap time isn't it?" leah realised, training having had a delayed start due to a sprinkler malfunction as you nodded and your wife groaned, seeing mila was still very much so wide awake which would throw her off her regular schedule.

"oh she's going to be a nightmare to get down tonight."

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #leah williamson #engwnt #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader

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froggybells · 3 months

Text

Sign of the Times (2)

part 1 —> here!!

Kyojuro Rengoku x wife!reader

a/n: guys i am so sorry i am so angsty lately and harry styles is also just stuck in my brain!!!! there is a spoiler warning in place and this chapter is a bit short. idk if a part 3 is needed but ive been thinking about this 😭😭😭

word count: <800

we can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here

The infinity castle was, well, infinite.

The stories passed down within your family really didn’t depict the magnitude of the situation.

Going into this battle, you had one thing in mind. Well, two things. Your son, who was nestled safely in the company of the former Flame Hashira. The old man grew into an amazing grandfather, after realizing the mistakes he made with his own children.

The other thought was of your husband.

‘What would Kyo say if he were here?’

In all honesty, you wanted nothing more to go home to your son. A living reminder of the beautiful life you once had.

So as you lay on the floor of the Infinity Castle after defeating Muzan, you look up to the ceiling.

You’re sure you can hear Tanjiro calling your name, or maybe it’s Giyuu? Definitely not Sanemi, as you two constantly clash. Then again, you have been getting along lately-

Your thoughts are stopped once you see a figure hovering over you.

The unmistakable yellow-red eyes and corresponding hair.

You blink once, twice, and a third time, yet he is still there.

Surely, you must be dead? Why else would he be here?

“K-Kyo?” You say as you sit up. You look around at the battlefield before you. Destruction is the best way to describe it. Observing the people in the distance who seem to be frozen in time, you turn your head back to your husband, standing there in all his glory.

“Kyojuro? Is this death?”

The man let out a hearty laugh. “No my dear, I’m afraid you aren’t ready for that yet!” You couldn’t stop the tears as they started flowing.

“I want to be ready! I want to be with you again!” Broken sobs come out of your mouth. “I know it’s selfish! I know our son is at home waiting for me! I don’t think I can do it without you, Kyojuro! I-I’m struggling so much and I need you to come back to me! Please come back to me!”

The man kneels forward, and gently places a calloused hand on your cheek. “My gorgeous flame. I understand what you are thinking. Your eyes meet, and for a fleeting moment, everything else seems to vanish. You lean into his hand and savor his warm touch, feeling as if he were really there with you.

“I’m so scared, Kyojuro.”

“Y/N,” you’re shocked by the sudden movement of him pulling you into his chest, “You are the bravest, and strongest fighter that I ever had the pleasure of knowing. You completed our goal, my flame. You kept the fires burning long enough to support your allies. And they are going to need you after this. Our son is going to need you.”

Having your ear up to his chest, you swear you can hear a faint heartbeat. “What about what I need?! You- You left me! Alone!” You began trying to escape his grasp, which only got tighter.

“And I will forever hold that burden, Y/N. It wasn’t an easy decision, but for our son to know his father died protecting others is enough closure for me.”

“Where is my closure?” You say, looking up at your husband. He smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m right here. I needed you to know how proud of you I am. Watching you play with our son and grow as a mother has made me swell with so much pride.” You sniffled into his uniform.

“Y/N. I am so grateful that you are the one to carry on my legacy. You have so much love to give in this world, and I will be waiting for you in the next one.”

Kyojuro finally let go, and stepped away from you.

“Be brave, and be strong. I know you can. And once your time comes, I will be there.”

“Please don’t go yet!” You scream, hand stretching out. He swiftly turns around and pulls your lips to his. His skin is just as warm as you remember it to be, and he rests his forehead on yours.

“It’s time for me to go. But remember my words, Y/N. I’ll always be here for you, even if you can’t see me.”

#demon slayer rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #kny angst #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer angst #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader

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moutainrusing · 2 months

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pen pals

943 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

On the other side of town, there was a hospital, where children in need of long-term care spent their days and nights. On this side of town, there was a boarding school, where children in need of discipline spent their days and nights.

As an act of further discipline, the Headteacher, Professor McGonagall, had decided that the students of Diagon Academy should write a letter to a patient in Pomfrey’s Hospital, and forge a new friendship, become pen pals for life.

According to Sirius, she was delusional. But he still wrote a letter.

- - -

With his incredibly bony, stick-like, shaking fingers, Remus wrote a letter to someone in the rich, stuffy boarding school, who would apparently become his pen pal for life. (Unlikely.) Firstly, he was Remus. No one wanted to be his friend. Even if they weren’t in their right mind, he was a sick, frail loser, unable to do anything except stutter and sit in awkward silence.

Secondly, the people at Diagon Academy were judgemental snobs. Posh and pretentious and loaded. Why would he befriend that?

- - -

Minerva and Poppy sorted through the letters in companionable chatter, pairing a student with a patient in a match they hoped would lead to a long-lasting friendship.

Once the pairs had been made, the children could keep addressing letters to their pen pal; the school Prefects and hospital wardens would be able to deliver the letters by reading the name on the envelope, ensuring the children got the privacy they needed to open up to each other.

Minerva wanted the slightly troubled (okay, very troubled) students at her school to learn how to care for someone who didn’t live in their narrow-minded world, and Poppy wanted the minorly self-loathing (okay, very self-loathing) patients at her hospital to open up to the possibilities of the world around them. Together, the couple had come up with the idea of pen pals, and together, they wanted this to work so badly.

“I think we’ve found the perfect pair,” Minerva commented as she held Remus’s and Sirius’s letters side-by-side.

Poppy grinned. “I bet those two’ll end up more than friends.”

- - -

Dear pen pal (for life, apparently; I think the nurse may be barmy, but she’s well-intentioned and she’s my favourite and I want it to be known that I am doing this for her. So if I make an embarrassment of myself, it was for her. And I’ll never even get out of this hospital, so I don’t care if you think I’m weird.)

I’m supposed to write about myself. I’m fifteen. I’m a boy. I’ve been sick for as long as I can remember and I look like undercooked pastry. I like reading. There’s not a lot you can do in hospital. But you do get stickers. I’m actually fond of my sticker album. You get a sticker for every injection you take, and when I was younger, I used to get stickers for talking, because I was and am an anti-social freak. I’m really selling this.

Anyway, I’ve organised the pages of my sticker album because I have nothing better to do. There’s a page for leaves from deciduous trees, animals that specifically live in the savanna, fruits which are FRUITS and that includes tomatoes, and a lot of other fully sorted pages. This is my legacy. I might die any day but I still made this impact.

Look, if you’ve read this far, I’ll have to assume you’re as weird as I am.

Yours,

Remus Lupin

Sirius traced over the wobbly penmanship of his pen pal with a grin on his face. Remus was funny. And nice. Those seemed like such simple adjectives, but Sirius meant them to such an intense degree.

He got to writing back about how he was so much weirder than Remus. Although Remus must already know that from Sirius’s introductory letter.

- - -

Dear pen pal,

Minnie, our lovely Headteacher, and my future wife, even though she’s resistant to my charms at the moment (I don’t know why, I’m literally the hottest hunk of meat in this school I’m kidding sorry too soon) (also it may be because she’s gay and so am I) anyway, Minnie came up with the fanciful idea of pen pals. She really hopes this will mean something, and I don’t wanna let her down now, do I?

I mean, I also hope this means something because she has POISONED my brain with these delusional fantasies, and so has my best mate. James really believes this will benefit the country or something from the way he talks.

So, about myself. (It may seem I like talking about myself. I hate it. I’d rather show people who I am.) So, I’m not gonna talk about myself! I’m mysterious like that. Oh-so-interesting.

Like, yesterday, James and I put bouillon cubes into all the shower-heads and the boys ended up smelling like chicken broth (us included). It was fucking GROSS. And fucking awesome. Minnie immediately knew it was us though. My mystery works on everyone but her (another reason we’re soulmates, I should tell her).

LOTS OF LOVE

SIRIUS BLACK, EL AMOR DE TU VIDA

Remus actually snorted. He’d been worried, initially, to see ‘POISONED’ glaring at him in swirling cursive when he cast a cursory glance down the letter, but then he saw ‘THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE’ in Spanish, and found that Sirius was a hyperbolic little shit.

He proceeded to write a letter to tell him exactly that. Oh, and another prank idea, because why not? It wasn’t like he’d be suspected. Maybe he could help Sirius and James with an original idea that couldn’t possibly be pinned on them.

#marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #remus x sirius #microfiction #wolfstar microfic #minerva mcgonagall #poppy pomfrey #professor mcgonagall #madame pomfrey #minerva x poppy

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trillscienceofficer · 1 month

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from Cinefantastique Vol 28 #4/5, November 1996

TABOO BREAKER: Another Trill gender bender, “Rejoined” echoes TREK's legacy of exploring the nature of love.

By Dale Kutzera

Thirty years ago STAR TREK broke a long-standing television taboo by presenting the first interracial kiss—a fact Gene Roddenberry often boasted about. Early in DS9’s fourth season a similar taboo fell. Though not the first lesbian kiss—LA LAW and ROSEANNE have done it, as did PICKET FENCES (albeit with the lights out)—it was certainly the most passionate. For 15 incredible seconds, Jadzia Dax and the wife of a former host kissed. And not a closed-mouth kiss, turned away from the camera as between Kirk and Uhura. This was passion.

The writers did not set out to create a “gay” show with “Rejoined.” The original story involved a male lover of one of Dax’s previous hosts and how their renewed attraction broke a Trill taboo against relationships with lovers from past lives. “We had talked for a long time about doing the show about Dax and a former spouse,” said staff writer/producer Robert Hewitt Wolfe, “and we always suspected that was a Trill cultural taboo. But how do you make the audience understand that even though Dax is doing something they would find acceptable, it’s against the norms of social behavior for her society? The story came before the decision to do the same sex couple. It was always an analogy to the way homosexual relationships are treated in our society. Trills have no reason to be against same sex couples, but what a better way to show that they are a totally different, alien society than to see them reacting in self-righteous indignation just because they were lovers in a previous life? That society should dictate who you should and should not love is a sad thing and that’s what the show is about. We didn't sit down and say ‘Lets do a gay show.”

Credit Ron Moore with taking Rene Echevarria's story and re-shaping it by making the past lover a woman. “Initially it was a man, she was a woman, and here they are,” said Moore. “I remember reading the story and thinking about it. Literally, I was on my way home and started to think this would be a much stronger story—it would really be a stand-out episode of the series—If this was a woman. Play it as a woman and really go for it. I called Ira from my car and he was receptive and the next day we just dumped it on the staff. It got batted around and there were reservations here and there and then everybody signed on board.”

“Ron is the one that made it happen," said Echevarria. “People had talked about doing a so-called lesbian angle in other contexts. Ron is the one who brought it together and said this is the show. The taboo was Michael Piller’s idea and Ron merged it, saw how they tracked and said, ‘We will do the show and never even mention the fact that these are two women. This taboo tracks with our own taboos or many audience members’ taboos about homosexuality and the argument will track straight down the line and it will be great.”’

Realizing that, as in any story of rejoined lovers, it would inevitably lead to a passionate kiss, Moore wrote a memo to Ira Behr and Rick Berman justifying what could be DS9’s most controversial episode. “We knew it was going to be a controversial episode if we went for it, so we clearly had to go to Rick and the studio,” said Moore. “Rick questioned us. He wanted to make sure we knew what we were doing and why. He focused in on it and then he went to the studio and their reaction was the same: “Why? How is this going to work? How are you going to handle it? Is this going to be just salacious? Is this going to be tasteful? And how far are you going to go?’”

The studio was concerned that some viewers may infer that the two women were having sex, and worried that some affiliate stations would not air the episode. “It really boiled down to how far are you going to go and how are you going to handle it?" continued Moore. “The fact that this show was not known as NYPD BLUE and was this shocking the audience and taking them by surprise? I think we pushed it in the kiss scene. That is a powerful, amazing scene. You can’t get around that. That is the show stopper. It was not a gratuitous scene—I thought I would have done it if that character had been a man. So I didn’t think we were doing it to grab attention. It was the right thing to do in the story and it’s going to hit you in a more powerful way. One of the arguments we used was this is part of our franchise legacy. The original series prided itself on TV’s first interracial kiss. We've been priding ourselves on that for 30 years, so why not take the next step and be true to our ideals and convictions. STAR TREK has a point of view, a not completely middle-of-the-road view of the future. This is part of our view.”

Before proceeding, the general premise was run past actress Terry Farrell. “Ira called me last summer to say Michael [Dorn] was on the show and would I mind kissing a woman?" said Farrell. “At the time I said, ‘As long as she’s beautiful.’ I was just being silly. Then I thought as soon as you get the script I want to see it, because if it is anything sensationalized or a joke I don’t want to do it. [Ira said], ‘No it will be a love story with integrity.’ And I thought it was.”

With the green light given, Moore and Echevarria began work on the script. “This was a love story and the trick was to write it as a love story and forget the fact that she was a woman,” said Moore. “The backstory helped in that they were married once. They were husband and wife—write them that way. Two people who really shared something. One of them died. They never got to say good-bye and years later, in different bodies, they run into each other again and play that out. The thing with the Trill taboo was a perfect metaphor for issues of sexual tolerance and intolerance and we played that taboo without really playing our taboo."

The writers tried not to focus on the fact that both lovers were women, and simply wrote the story as a straight romance. “It’s easy to do on paper because the name Lenara is not one you really associate with women anyway,’’ Moore said. “We made it up. So on paper it’s easy to forget and just write this love story and this taboo is what we’re dealing with. It’s not until you’re sitting in the room watching casting sessions that you got two women playing these scenes and you go, ‘Wow, this is really going to hit you in a different way when you see it.’ But we tried to stay true to just telling the story and not going for the easy shots.”

“I was excited, because they were brave,” said Farrell of the writers. “If I were to change the names to Frank and Sara I totally believed that love story. It didn’t matter what the names were, these two people were in love with each other. I was so happy that I was the one who was willing to fight for the love. I knew people would relate to me. And at the end I was so sad. No matter what anybody else says, it made me really proud.”

For Farrell the episode also offered her an opportunity to express on film her off-screen respect for Avery Brooks. In a moment of critical decision, as Dax contemplates breaking the Trill taboo and throwing her future into chaos, Sisko advises her against the hasty decision, but vows to stand by her whatever her choice may be. “I didn’t even need to do homework on that scene. I just used my relationship with Avery. The first year was very difficult to adjust to the dialog. People got impatient with me, other directors and other actors. I was 28 years old. but I felt like I was 18. I lost my confidence. I must have driven them nuts, but Avery was always very supportive and strong. He really helped me build my confidence. He’s strong and silent. I don’t know anything about him personally, but he’s been incredibly giving to me emotionally. We cried a lot on that scene. A lot more than you saw. It felt weird not crying too hard, but holding back. It helped to have a director [Brooks] you trust. I needed his opinion on that.”

Director Brooks had Farrell and gueststar Susanna Thompson (who earned thepraise of everyone involved in the show) rehearse the critical scene up to the momentof the kiss. The actual description of the scene in the script was general, leaving it up to the actors and director to stage. “I said it was a kiss they have been waiting a hundred years for. It’s a powerful moment, let them do their magic on the set,” said Moore. “Avery and the two actresses staged it and pretty much it was left as Avery, Terry, and Susanna wanted it.”

“It described I was touching her face and whispered in her ear—her husband said it turned her on,” said Farrell. “We rehearsed up to the kiss then stopped. I thought it was great Avery directed it. because he was really into being honest and telling the truth, trying to pretend we’re not aliens in outer space, and being honest in the emotions. Avery talked about being passionate and sensuous. What was really hard for me was it starts out in my close-up, then a two-shot and the kiss. She said one word, then gotcha. We wouldn’t dissect this. If I were kissing a man we would say, ‘No tongues? Okay, no tongues.’ Avery didn't want them to cut it down too much. We wanted to make sure that didn't happen. You don't go through telling that kind of story and then say, ‘We can’t be very brave.’”

The writers and cast were pleased and a bit surprised that the kiss was kept almost intact through the editing process. “We saw the kiss and thought, ‘Boy how is Rick going to edit this,” said Echevarria. “We were just so gratified and thrilled to see that he did not pull back on the emotion of the moment. He allowed it to happen. It's by far the most passionate gay kiss I've ever seen on television.”

The reaction to the episode was predictably mixed. Some affiliates did not air the episode. Others excised the scene with the kiss. Mail to the writing staff was heavier than for any other episode they had been involved in, and much of it negative. "My idea that sci-fi fans are socially far-thinking, that they are in many ways liberal, leftist, humanist, whatever, was totally blown apart by some of the incredible comments we received,” said Behr. “There’s a strong conservative strain in the American soul and maybe it’s there in sci-fi, too. I don’t think we were saying anything that was that extraordinarily out of line, but maybe we were and that's pretty sad.”

Not all the mail was negative, however, as Echevarria remembered. “I would say it was ten-to-one pro—saying thank you very much and you don’t know how important this was. Letters from teachers, counselors, groups that counsel gay teens—saying how important something like this is. My mother was just scandalized. For the first time ever she culled me and said, ‘I can't believe you did that. It's so bad and so bad for the children of America.’ I couldn't have been happier.”

“It was a challenge emotionally for me to have a relationship with a woman,” said Farrell. "It wasn't anything I ever thought I’d want to do in my career. I've taken jobs to pay the rent. It was a great feeling to get to do a show that was that special as an actress. A lot of people go through their whole career and don’t get to do something that controversial or with that artistic integrity. I’m very proud of that.”

#ds9 #trek magazines #cinefantastique #ep: rejoined #terry farrell #ron moore #rene echevarria #ira steven behr #OH SO THAT'S WHERE 'I ASKED HER HUSBAND WHAT TURNED HER ON' COMES FROM #i love interviews with farrell because #1) she will hype up avery brooks and #2) she will candidly admit to the WILDEST things...........#i love the can do attitude of some straight women tbh. inspirational.#jadzia dax

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starogeorgina · 1 month

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬

Pairing: Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

1.06

Gwayne searches your face until he meets your eyes. You offer him a reassuring look, then glance back up at the ceiling. His panting becomes heavier as he quickens his thrusts. Gwayne wasn’t a bad person; there was just no passion or love between the two of you. Laying together was nothing more than an act of duty.

“Gods,” he groans.

Seconds later, Gwayne drops his body down on top of you. He pecks at your cheek before pulling out and rolling onto his side. You lick at your dry lips, then get to your feet, and immediately start pushing your nightgown down. Gwayne appears to have enjoyed himself a lot more than you did, then again he got to reach his peak, which was disappointing considering you used to enjoy having sex.

“Do you want me to escort you back to your chamber?”

“No, but thank you for the offer.” You pull the thick robe that resembles a coat on and tie it at the front, making yourself more presentable to walk through the castle halls. “Gwayne, are we going to address what your family is saying?”

Sighing, Gwayne gets up from his spot on the bed, his body bare for all to see, and begins pouring himself a goblet of wine. “If you are desperate to have another babe I’m sure the gods will grant you one.”

“I am not desperate to have another child. Pregnancy and childbirth are both horrid experiences; it’s a matter of performing our duty. The weight of having a child weighs more heavily on me than it does on you. The blame always falls upon the woman. It will be me they will whisper about and call a failure.”

“Dear wife,” he says. Shaking his head, Gwayne walks over to you with a small smile pulling on his lips. “I do believe there is a way to make this more simple. The unspoken issue is the fault may lie with me, but you can bear another child, so if needs be, a possible solution is you seek out the company of another.”

“Are you suggesting I take a lover to impregnate me?”

His jaw clenches ever so slightly, but Gwayne nods. “The babe would still have the last name Hightower. I would fiercely claim them as my own.”

“Would you be able to love them if they were from another?”

“Love,” Gwayne inhales sharply, “a foreign concept to some. I’m not suggesting we stop trying, but just explore other ways of getting what we both want.”

“I would be breaking the vows I made at our wedding.” A man could break his vows and nobody batted an eyelid, but seven hells rain down on any woman who did. “I know this is not a match we made for ourselves, but I didn’t think you would be so eager for me to bed another.”

“I also have my father breathing down my neck, continually insisting our family legacy continues. Not to mention all the snide comments from my sister.” Sighing, Gwayne swirls his drink. “I’m just saying if you thought laying with another would improve your chances of having a child sooner, it wouldn’t be an issue with me.”

“It would not?”

“No.”

You didn’t know what else to say; your mind was racing trying to process everything he just said. "Goodnight, husband, I have much to think about.”

—

You are so lost in thought you almost walk by Ser Criston and into your chambers without even acknowledging him; it’s not until he opens the door and speaks that you come back to reality.

“Goodnight princess.”

You spin on your heels and speak quietly. “Can I ask you something? The other night... do you judge me for what I did or said?”

He thinks about it before answering, “No, I don’t.”

“...thank you, Ser Cristion.” You want to say more, but taking in the knight's appearance, you can see exhaustion weighing him down and decide it is best to leave it for another time. “You can retire for the night. Another member of the king's guard can take over. I shall see you in the morrow.”

—

You hear your daughter wail before you see her. Her cheeks flushed red as she cries hysterically while Raya holds her.

“Meera, my sweet,” You tuck the thick book of your family's history under your armpit and hold your arm out, taking your daughter from Raya. “What is the matter?”

The moment she’s in your arms, Meera clings to you. You had gone to the godswood to read while it remained dry outside. The feeling of your warmth and soft voice soothes your daughter, and soon she starts to calm down. You look to Raya and quietly ask, “What has upset her so much?”

“They were talking about houses and their sigils during her lessons, and when they mentioned House Stark, she got upset.”

You sigh. Meera misses her father, and unfortunately there wasn’t much you could do to remedy that pain. “Your cheeks are awfully warm.” You place Meera back on the ground and take her hand. “Come, let’s get you back inside.”

You briefly lock eyes with Ser Criston; there hadn’t been a chance for you to have a private conversation with him yet, as there was always someone else nearby. The godswoods may have been your chance, but there was now a more pressing matter.

“Do you want me to do anything else for her?” Raya asks.

You nod, “Have a cool bath prepared; hopefully that will stop her from being so flush. Thank you.”

As you walk back towards the halls of the red keep, serval lords and ladies have looks of disgust on their faces as Meera continues to sob. At the heart of the congregation of ladies sitting by the archways is Alicent, with an almost mocking smile pulling on her lips. You felt judged, as if your daughter crying somehow made you a bad mother.

“Princess,” Ser Criston’s voice is softer than usual. “Pay no mind to their glances. Most ladies at court children are raised by handmaidens; I doubt many of them would be able to say what brings comfort to their child, let alone enjoy spending them with them.”

“Thank you, Ser.”

—

As you leave your father's chambers, Rhaenyra links her arm with yours and whispers, “I’ve been thinking about your situation.”

“Which one?”

She giggles, “aōha valzȳrys's suggestion hen ao taking another naejot bed.” (Your husband's suggestion of you taking another to bed.)

“Rhaenyra!”

“Shhh,” she pulls on your arm tighter and continues the conversation in High Valyrian. “I know there will be no shortage of men who would be honoured to bed you, but I definitely think I know the one.”

“Who?”

She subtly moves her eyes in the direction of your sworn shield, who was walking not far behind you beside her own. You pray to the mother that neither of them had secretly learnt High Valyrian.

“A man who takes a vow of chastity values honour above all else.”

“He’s swore an oath of loyalty to you, sister. The way he looks at you goes beyond duty.”

“Enough of that. I value—” you pause before saying his name out loud. “Him too much. Besides, if I was desperate, I’d ask Daemon.”

“Gods no...” Rhaenyra rolls her eyes. “Daemon has probably slept with all the whores in the keep.”

“Yet, there are still some who would find themselves drawn to him,” you say teasingly. “I would do no such thing. The temptation to rub it in Otto’s face would be too great for him.”

She nods in agreement. “I am being serious though; your shield would be willing if you asked. Also, father wishes for him to join you in your travels.”

You swallow thickly. Your father had reluctantly granted you leave from the keep to return to Winterfell with Meera for a short time; however, you had no intention of having a full party of knights and handmaidens accompanying you. Flying on Dragonback would be much easier for everyone.

As you reach the far end of the royal quarters, you switch back to English. “Let’s speak no more of this. I’d rather visit my sweet nephews in the nursery before Meera finishes her lessons.”

—

The rain was relentless; each gust of wind would have threatened to unseat you if you weren’t strapped into your saddle so tightly. The wind whips your unbraided hair into a tangled mess that sticks to your face. Despite the heavy downpour, Lady pressed on, knowing that every moment spent in the sky was another moment of freedom for you both.

You’re ready to wait for the passing storm to end, but as lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the darkness, Lady plunged down towards the forest floor, sheltering herself under the thick trees.

While landing, she knocks over a few small trees and is boisterous while doing so. The spot was near the cave she had claimed and had begun showing signs of nesting behavior. You couldn’t see any knights, but you could hear the sound of rhythmic galloping getting closer.

Climbing off Lady, you say, “Ao sagon ȳgha kesīr.” (You’re safe here.)

Lowering her head for her customary sniff, she nudges you with her nose, and you embrace her, resting your forehead against her damp peach scales.

“Princess!”

“Don’t come any closer, Ser Criston,” you call back. “Be careful not to startle Lady; she’s very protective.”

In High Valyrian, you speak in a soothing tone to Lady, lovingly rubbing your hands over her scales until she retreats back in her cave. When you mentioned she had made a den for herself outside the dragonpit, your father had ordered knights to guard the cave at all times, so there was some light in the darkness of the forest by the torches hung up against the trees.

“Ser Criston?” You glance around, trying to figure out where he was.

Hearing the snapping of branches, you spin fast and are taken by surprise seeing his is so close to you and stumble backwards. You find yourself in the arms of the knight as he catches you before you hit the ground.

Instead of wearing his armor, Criston was dressed in his own clothes, with a thick black cloak shielding his body from the rain. “Your shift was finished hours ago, Ser, why did you come?”

“I saw the weather was worsening and was worried. I wanted to make sure you returned safely, princess.”

You hold his gaze; there were more than a dozen knights on guard; any of them could have been your escort home. “Don’t speak half-truths.”

Criston leans into you, his breath warm against your ear. “You have not been yourself of late. And in truth, it made me nervous knowing you are out here, in the storm with so much on your mind.”

“Scared I’d fly away and not return?”

He laughs, “The king would most definitely have my head if you did. I was worried you’d get hurt.”

Your heart races as you feel the knight's strong grip on your arms. With a sudden movement, your lips met his. Criston’s lips were warm and firm against yours, sending shivers down your spine. As you pull away, you couldn't help but feel a longing for more. “Forgive me,” you say as you step out of his grip. “That was inappropriate; I should not have done that.”

“There is no forgiveness needed.” Criston’s hand rests on the side of your neck, his thumb tracing your jaw. “What is troubling you, princess?”

“I’ve found myself in a position I thought I’d ever be in. Gwayne wants me to bed another so that we may do our duty to our houses.”

“To bed another?” He repeats this while guiding you to gain shelter underneath a tree. You were thankful the night was so dark that even with the torches, no other knight would be able to have witnessed what you just did.

“Yes, and I just—I understand his trail of thinking, but I cannot expect another to go along with a lie like that.”

“I’m sworn to you, princess. My sword and shield are yours.”

“Ser Criston, I cannot ask you to—”

“Love you in secret?” Criston presses into you until your back hits the tree. Your noses gently brush together, and his lips lightly ghost over your own. “I’m afraid it may be too late to stop that from happening.”

You give in and lean forward, kissing him. Tangling your hands in his damp hair, his fingers caress your ribcage. “This is wrong,” you whisper. “We should stop.”

“Tell me to stop, princess, and I swear we’ll never mention this again.”

“No, Criston, I don’t want you to stop. And that is what’s wrong.”

He kisses you again, but this time it becomes more heated and all doubt disappears. You move his hand that’s resting on your ribs up to cup your breast, silently signaling you want more for this to go further.

Criston moves his leg to open yours further and presses his knee against your core. “Do you want this, princess?”

“Gods, yes.”

Your breath hitches in your throat when Criston repositions himself and grinds against you, his lips pressing into the sweet spot on the side of your neck. He bunches your skirts up, giving him easier access; he spits on his fingers before rubbing circles on your clit. After a few moments, he steps back to lower his trousers enough for his cock to spring free.

Wrapping his arms around you, Criston lifts you high enough that your legs hook around his waist. “You’ve no idea how badly I desire you, princess.”

Desperate to feel him, you pull your skirts and small cloth to the side and line the head of his cock against your cunt. Criston muffles your moans with a kiss when he pushes inside you with ease.

“Fuck,” you whine against his lips.

“Shh,” he starts to thrust slowly. “Nobody can see us, but if they hear us, they will come looking.”

Biting your lower lip, you bury your face into the side of his neck. Doing your best to not make any more noise, as all primal urges take over. You dig your nails into the back of Criston's, keeping him close as he thrusts into you amongst the wind and rain.

#house of the dragon #criston cole fanfic #criston cole x reader #ser criston cole x you #criston cole x you #ser criston cole smut #ser criston cole x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon smut #criston cole smut #the blood between us #house of the dragon fanfic #ser criston cole #ser criston cole/reader #criston cole #the blood between us 1.06 #HOTD smut

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 year

Text

Love Flames

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Female OC

summary: Daemon Targaryen simply loves his wife.

Word count: 2,8K

Warnings: Smut, Cunnilingus, movement restrain, slight body worship

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

The morning sun bathed the chambers of the Red Keep in a warm, golden light. Marleina Harroway moved gracefully through the opulent halls, her footsteps echoing softly on the polished marble floors. The Red Keep, home to the Targaryen dynasty for generations, was a place steeped in history and power.

As she made her way toward the private chambers where her sons were receiving their lessons, Marleina couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence for the ancient fortress. The Red Keep had seen the rise and fall of kings and queens, and now it was her family's home.

Entering the room where Maester Elyas was instructing her three sons, Marleina's presence commanded attention. Aenys, Maegon, and Baelon, the Targaryen princes, looked up from their studies, their eyes brightening at the sight of their mother.

"Good morning, my lords," Marleina greeted them with a warm smile. Aenys, the eldest and the spitting image of his father Daemon, nodded respectfully. Maegon, with his dark hair and keen intellect, acknowledged her with a nod as well. Baelon, the youngest and most spirited of the three, practically bounced in his seat.

Maester Elyas bowed respectfully. "Lady Marleina, a pleasure, as always."

Marleina returned the gesture before focusing on her sons. "How are your studies progressing, my loves?"

Aenys spoke first, his voice steady and assured. "We are delving into the history of the Red Keep, Mother, and learning about the responsibilities that come with our lineage."

Marleina's violet eyes gleamed with pride. "A worthy subject, Aenys. The Red Keep is a symbol of our house's enduring strength and legacy."

Maegon chimed in, his analytical mind at work. "I find the intricacies of court politics intriguing, Mother. It's like a never-ending game of strategy."

She nodded approvingly. "Indeed, Maegon. Understanding the game is essential in the world we live in."

Finally, her gaze turned to Baelon, who was practically bursting with enthusiasm. "And you, Baelon?"

Baelon's eyes shone with excitement. "I want to ride dragons like Father one day!"

Marleina's heart warmed at her youngest son's dream. "One day, my sweet Baelon. But for now, remember that knowledge and wisdom are the true sources of power."

As Marleina watched her sons absorb the lessons imparted by Maester Elyas, she knew that their upbringing within the Red Keep would shape them into formidable leaders of House Targaryen. In the heart of the Red Keep, surrounded by history and tradition, her family's destiny was being forged.

Daemon Targaryen, her husband and their father, was a man of ambition and charisma, but it was the love and guidance they received from their mother that would prepare them for the challenges that lay ahead.

Marleina was determined to ensure that the Targaryen legacy endured, even within the formidable walls of the Red Keep.

After ensuring that her sons were settled into their lessons, Marleina decided to check on her husband, Daemon Targaryen. It was unusual for him to be absent from his morning training sessions with the sword. Daemon was known for his unwavering dedication to honing his combat skills, even in times of peace. His absence from their shared chamber was a rare occurrence.

As she approached the door to their private quarters within the Red Keep, Marleina's steps grew cautious. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. With a gentle push, she entered their chamber, her eyes immediately falling upon Daemon.

He sat by the window, bathed in the soft morning light, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city of King's Landing below. His usual armor and weapons were nowhere in sight. Instead, he wore a simple robe, and his long silver hair cascaded down his back in disarray.

"Daemon?" Marleina's voice was filled with concern as she approached him.

Daemon turned his head slowly, as if pulled from deep contemplation. His violet eyes, so like those of their sons, met hers, and there was a weariness in them that Marleina had rarely seen.

"Marleina," he said softly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he rose to his feet. "I didn't expect you back so soon."

She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek. "Is something troubling you, my love? You've missed your training this morning."

Daemon's shoulders slumped slightly, and he sighed. "I needed some time alone, to think."

Marleina studied her husband's face, her concern deepening. "About what?"

He hesitated, then took her hand in his. "About the future, Marleina. About the burden of our name and what it means for our sons."

Marleina knew that the weight of the Targaryen legacy was a heavy one. The realm was always watching, and the expectations placed upon their family were immense. But she had never seen Daemon so affected by it.

"Daemon," she said softly, "we will face whatever challenges come our way together. Our sons are strong and capable, and they have a mother and father who love them dearly."

Daemon nodded, his grip on her hand tightening. "You're right, Marleina. I mustn't let my worries consume me. We have a duty to our house and our people."

Marleina leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "And we will fulfill that duty, my love, as we always have."

As they held each other close, Marleina couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of determination. The challenges of ruling the Seven Kingdoms as House Targaryen were formidable, but they had faced adversity before and emerged stronger.

Daemon being himself couldn't keep up the intimate image. His arms tightened around her waist pulling her closer to his body. Their marriage may have not been one of love in the beginning but now it surely was.

"Daemon" Marleina warned. Her words went straight over his head and captured her lips silencing her. His kisses were always rough and passionate.

"Shhh, dārilaros" Princess. Daemon shushed her. His calloused fingers slowly began undoing the bodice of her dress. Marleina ceased complaining, she never truly hated the idea of bedding him, even from their first night he showed her nothing but pleasure.

"I'll take good care of you, dārilaros" Daemon whispered against her ear. Marleina basically melted in between his arms at that point.

In minutes Daemon had her fully naked on their bed. His eyes wide and pupil blown with lust. Marleina guided his head closer to her, kissing him straight on the lips. Daemon moved his head down needing more than the taste of her lips.

Marleina's head fell back with pleasure when he took one of her nipples in his mouth. Daemon was anything but gentle, he was a monster in bed. His teeth sank into the flesh earning a cry of both pain and pleasure from Marleina. She enjoyed the pain he inflicted on her way too much.

Daemon pulled away from Marleina to watch her reaction. She had her eyes closed merely enjoying his touches. Daemon smirked and moved off the bed completely. Marleina whined disappointed with the lack of his touch.

Her eyes flew open when she felt him grab her wrist and tie something around it. She looked down to find a silk like rope in his hand. He raised his eyebrow when their eyes met. He held open his palm for her other hand.

"What are you doing?" She asked confused. Daemon wiggled his fingers asking silently for her other hand. She hesitantly gave him her other hand. He tied her wrist with the other one before raising them above her head.

She squealed in surprise. He tied the rope to the head board of the bed chuckling darkly at her reaction.

"Shhh sweet dārilaros" Daemon placed a finger on her lips. He pushed it into her mouth. Marleina sucked on his sole finger in her mouth. Daemon groaned at the feeling.

"Dirty girl, probably imagining my cock" Daemon smirked when she nodded her head. His cock twitched in his trouser. This woman was everything to him, she was his wife, she was the mother of his children, children he intend to have more of from her.

He moved to climb on top of her, slowly pressing kisses to her neck, teasing her. His lips trailed down, completely ignoring her breast much to her annoyance, she was just too sensitive there ever since she had their first child.

His lips continued their way down her navel, pushing her legs open Daemon wanted to dive right into her soaking cunt but held himself back. His lips littered the inside of her thighs with kisses, sucking and marking them, He wanted to devour her if possible.

"Daemon" Marleina cried, growing even more annoyed with his neglect.

"Patience sweet dārilaros, let me love you, let me love your body" Daemon placed a hand on her belly and pushed down when she attempted to push her hips in his face.

Daemon trailed kisses up from her knee to the corner of her lower lips. Marleina's breath got caught in her throat, heart beating faster with anticipation.

Daemon finally placed his lips on the area that was crying for his touch. A loud moan escaped Marleina's lips when his lips placed a small kiss to her pearl. He took it between his lips sucking gently, her whole body shook at the feeling.

"Taste so good" Daemon prasied. His tongue ran through her foold, maoning at the taste of her on his tongue. Marleina's back arched when his tongue pushed.

The feeling of his wet muscle teasing her inner walls sent shock waves through her body. She wanted to claw at her own flesh, she wanted to claw his flesh but she couldn't her hands were tied.

She tried to fight against the restrains, she wanted to escape. Her wrists began to hurt with each tug but to no use they wouldn't come out. He was a soldier, he knew how to make a good knot, one that would never unravel, he know how to restrain movement.

"Bad girl" Daemon delivered a quick slap to her pearl when she tried pushing her cunt closer to his face. Daemon's demeanour changed and he dived in with all he god.

"Fuck, your body is perfect" he whispered. Hand running up her side, feeling every curve, every extra layer of skin from each pregnancy. She was an angel, she was just perfect for him.

"Daemon, please" She pleaded, hips trying to rock into him. He climbed back up to lay on top of her.

"Shhh" Daemon nuzzled his nose against hers. She didn't notice him reaching down to grab himself. She didn't see him place his tip against her entrance, too deeply concentrated on the kisses he was placing on her neck.

Her shocked gasp tickled Daemon's lips from their closeness, the way her eyes widened was comical to Daemon who chuckled. The second he pushed his cock in, he pushed the entire thing, he just shoved it inside of her.

It was painful, painful as hell even with preparation, but Marleina loved pain, loved his pain. The mere move of him shoving himself inside of her sent her spireling down a hole of shakiness, her orgasm moving through her body along with her blood.

"So tight" Daemon's head fell back at the feeling of her walls contracting around him. Her legs rose to wrap around his hips, locking above his bottom pulling him even closer.

"So perfect, Daemon, so full" Marleina whimpered in his ear. Daemon with his face buried in the crook of her neck, hand trailing up to hold the knot he made around her wrists, the other hand holding her thigh in a bruising grip, began moving his hips.

No rocking, no gentle movement, straight to slamming into her. Her screams of his name echoed around the room bouncing against the walls in a race with his own groans and moans of pleasure.

"Daemon! Please please please, more" She cried. Daemon's finger hooked around the knot pulling at it releasing her wrists free. He wanted to feel pain, he wanted her to scratching, hold him and scream in his ear.

Hands free went straight to wrap around him, scratching down his back, definitely drawing blood. Daemon groaned in her ear at the feeling, he loved so much. His hips moving in a pace no one could imagine, she just felt so good around his cock.

"I'm coming" She warned. Daemon pulled away from her neck leaving behind bruises that she will surely be mad about once her head was clear again. He looked down at her face, eyes tightly closed hiding eyes rolled back, mouth open letting through screams of his name and warnings of her coming soon. Tears rolling down her cheeks he leaned down to kiss away loving the salty tang in his mouth from them.

"Come for me, come on my cock, let your perfect cunt come around me" Daemon sat up on his knees, hand on her hips raising them to the same level as his cock letting it reach new depth inside of her.

"Daemon!" She screamed, whole body going into another dimension, shaking and spasming in his arms.

"Fuck" Daemon groaned, her orgasm made her walls the tightest they could ever be. He felt his whole body going numb at the feeling, falling on top of her, balls deep inside letting his cum shoot deep inside of her painting her walls white.

"Fucking hell" She cried too oversensitive. Her hips squirming under him trying to get away from him but all the movement did was make her feel even more pleasure, pulling a quick second orgasm for herself without even meaning too.

Daemon chuckled pulling out of her gently and rolling to lay by her side, cock softening. She immediately rolled into his arms, head on his chest and arms circled around him, one leg draped around his waist. Daemon wrapped his arm around her, finger trailing down to her bottom giving it a quick squeeze before continuing down to her cunt, touching it from behind, feeling his spend leaking out of her and gathering some. She whimpered at the feeling of his fingers on her wiggling a little. Daemon pulled his fingers back up and shoved them in front of her face, she didn't waste a second to take them into her mouth sucking them like the good girl she was.

"Perfect wife" He praised, kissing her forehead gently. She giggled snuggling deeper into his embrace.

Nine months after that fateful night, the Red Keep was filled with the joyous cries of a newborn. Marleina had given birth to a daughter, and the entire Targaryen household celebrated the arrival of little Visenya. The baby girl was a bundle of energy and happiness from the moment she entered the world, her cries echoing through the castle like a song of hope.

In the chamber where Marleina held her daughter for the first time, Daemon stood by her side, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and tenderness. Aenys, Maegon, and Baelon gathered around, their faces filled with awe as they beheld their little sister.

"Her name suits her," Marleina whispered, her voice filled with affection as she gazed at the tiny girl in her arms. "Visenya, the princess of our hearts."

Aenys, being the eldest, was the first to reach out and gently stroke his sister's cheek. "She's beautiful, Mother."

Maegon nodded in agreement, his analytical mind already considering the implications of a sister in their lives. "What does this mean for our family, Mother?"

Marleina smiled at her sons, realizing that this new addition would indeed bring changes. "It means that you now have a sister to protect and cherish, just as you have each other."

Baelon, who had been eagerly waiting his turn, finally got a chance to hold Visenya. His eyes sparkled with delight as he cradled the baby in his arms. "I'll protect her with my sword when I'm older, just like Father."

Daemon knelt beside Baelon and ruffled his hair affectionately. "That's the spirit, my boy. But for now, you must protect her with your love."

Visenya, oblivious to the discussions about her future, continued to gurgle and coo, her tiny fingers reaching out to grasp at the world around her. In her presence, the worries and responsibilities of the realm faded away, leaving only the pure and unbridled love of a family united by a new life.

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, Visenya became the heart of the Red Keep. Her laughter echoed through the halls, and her siblings doted on her endlessly. Marleina and Daemon, despite the challenges of their position, found solace and joy in the innocence of their youngest child.

With Visenya's arrival, the Targaryen family was more complete than ever before. The boys, once an army of brothers, now had a little sister to protect and guide. The Red Keep, filled with history and tradition, had a new princess to grace its ancient halls.

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readychilledwine · 17 days

Text

Love In The Kennels

Eris Week - Day 2 - Childhood and Legacy

Summary - Loving her was the easiest thing Eris had ever done, and a surprise meeting with his "least favorite" Illyrians let's him relive that.

Warnings - Formal dog breeding terms and briefly touched mentions of it, sexual tension, Beron being creepy, Liz's headcanon that Autumn is mote feral, therefore females have heat cycles, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pinning, mentions of fxf smut, mentions of injuries, possibly missed errors

A/N - Happy Day two of @erisweekofficial! I've had his hidden in my docs since Eris week last year, but I was so nervous to post it dur to the formating. It seems that wasn't a huge issue. A heads up, this is very similar to my Tarquin x reader Runaway Love fic. There are italized moments that are flashbacks as Eris and Artemis tell the batboys their story. I also took some inspiration from my absolute favorite Eris fanfiction in how Eris and Artemis constantly say each other's names back and forth. It is almost 6k words, so maybe grab a snackie?

Ps - can you guess with children's princess movie I based their relationship off of?

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Eris needed to get Rhysand and his hounds to leave his cabin, and quickly. The sun was starting to set, and Eris knew his wife would be returning home soon. He had come too far to risk her. He already had too much hiding in this cabin due to this surprise interrogation. She was not something he was willing to put at stake.

"The hour grows late, Rhysand," Eris paused as one of his hounds stood and began to pace at the door. "I believe we can discuss this at our next scheduled meeting."

Rhysand smirked in front of him, noting the way Eris passively stated he was not thrilled about their sudden appearance. "So eager to get rid of us, Eris? I thought you wanted our help."

The heir of Autumn scoffed slightly as he continued to watch his hounds growing anxious with the excitement of their mother coming home. "I do," he said calmly. "I just do not wish to discuss this topic at length again."

"The topic of how you left Mor for dead in the woods?" Eris found himself raising a brow at Azriel as he spoke. "I do not believe the shit you fed Nesta and I would like to hear it in person."

Eris rolled his eyes and froze as the first whine happened. Rhys turned to the 3 hounds Eris had brought into the cabin with him. All three of them wagged their tails, constantly readjusting their paws on the wooden floors and staring up at the door. "Are you expecting company, Eris?" Rhys watched as Eris's jaw tightened. Another whine came. It was followed by a sad huff as the male hound lay on the ground.

Eris moved to the cabin door, all three hounds perking up as he did so, "Do not jump. Am I understood?" The smoke hounds whined as he gave them his serious father-like face. "Go." He opened the door, and Azriel watched in silence as the three of them quickly took off into the clearing and waited at the center of it.

"I didn't leave Mor. I caught her in the middle of-" Eris paused thinking of how to word his story to the male who had chased after his ex fiancé for years. "I caught her in the throes of passion with one of my friends. When I asked Morrigan about it, she told me her preferences sexually leaned towards females. We made an agreement. She fucks someone to get out of the marriage, I fake outrage, she's free." Eris looked out into the clearing. The beer he had been nursing appeared in his hands as he waited and watched.

"We hadn't planned on what to do once Keir found out. We figured she'd be sent off to whoever she fucked and then be done with it. When she showed up with the letter nailed into her and beaten, I tried to get her to let me help. I offered to bring her here then get her to the Winter Court. I offered to help. She refused." Eris felt the shift in the clearing and saw his wife and mate off in the distance. 9 other hounds began to howl and whine appearing from out of nowhere before rushing her.

"What is happening out there?" Cassian moved the window by Eris. "Who is that?"

"My wife." Eris said plainly. "I left Mor after getting her to a place she knew you'd be able to find her, Azriel. I waited until you had her to leave. If you didn't come to get her, I was going to bring her here, to a safe cabin, until we could figure something out. Even if she hated me for it.”

Azriel and Rhys had also moved to the window in shock. The last part of Eris's story was buzzing in Azriel's ears as soon as his eyes landed on the figure of the female in the clearing. She was the one who had healed Cassian after he was gutted. The Autumn Court healer they couldn't find to thank. She was laughing as she was being chased around in her burgundy dress, dark hair flowing in the wind as she did. She was holding a bag up from the dogs as they jumped to try to grab it.

Eris sighed softly before moving to the door and reopening it. "No jumping! Let your mother come inside. Don't you all have rabbits to chase?" The hounds all slowly disburse as she patted their heads one by one. The three that had been in the house flanked her. Protecting her as she bounced up the steps to the cabin.

"Hello sugar," Eris said softly. "We have company." He watched her make a small face and laughed slightly before taking her hand.

"I'm mad at you," she said. She moved inside as he stood and processed the sentence. "High Lord. High Lord's friends." She greeted them softly before moving into the kitchen.

"Artemis?"

"Eris?'

Cassian chuckled slightly at the two of them as he watched Eris narrow his eyes at the female. "What exactly did I do to earn your anger?"

"Well, Husband," Rhys laughed this time at the sarcastic tone she was using. "Shall we start with the fact that you left me with your father all day, hmmmm?" She rose a brow at him and set her hand on the counter before also placing one on her hip.

"Or shall we start with the fact that I've been tugging this useless bond for HOURS begging you to come save me? And then I finally get to come home, after your father questioned me about everything under the Gods damned sun, by the way, and I find you drinking beer and having a grand old time."

Azriel covered laughter with a cough as he watched the Autumn female’s chestnut waves dance with every bob and move of her head. She clearly wasn't actually angry with Eris. Just very annoyed. He watched as she slammed down the bag she had been carrying.

"And to really top it off, husband."

"Please, do top it off, wife." Cassian threw his head back at Eris leaning in the doorway with a smirk. “You know I do adore you topping things.”

The female Artemis gave a serpent like smile before cocking her head, deep chocolate eyes playfully glaring at Eris, “When you do finally tug back, it's to ask me to break into your father's office-" She pauses motioning to the bag. "And copy all of THIS!"

Azriel's wings flared as she pulled out copies of the paperwork the Night Court had asked for. He walked to the table instantly, maintaining eye contact with the beautiful female in front of him. "The only reason you are alive right now, Eris-"

"Oh fuck, tell me why I'm alive, Artemis." Eris had grown slightly predatory as the Illyrians slowly realized the husband and wife were flirting with each other.

"The only reason I did not slit your throat when I walked through the door," she paused giggling slightly at Cassian's shocked face as Eris groaned and smiled, "is because that one," she pointed to Azriel, "is handsome and I do not wish for him to see that side of me. Plus your cock serves some purpose. Maybe.”

Cassian lost all composure then, a loud laugh seeming to shake the small cabin they were in as Eris's jaw fell, not realizing she would be so bold in front of the other males in the room. Artemis was rarely subtle though, her freckled face had subtitles. Something Eris had to remind her of frequently when she'd make looks of disgust openly.

"Artemis."

"Eris?"

"I love you." The laughter in the cabin stopped as Eris moved to his wife and kissed the top of her head. "And I'm sorry I wasn't there today."

She continued glaring at the papers in front of her, "You should have let one of them stab you. I might have had sympathy then."

"I could not allow that to happen, wife," Eris said into her hair, "We put knife play on the exclusive to us list.”

She smirked softly before turning to Cassian. "You healed nicely, general."

Cassian made a confused face as he tried to place how he knew her. "Have we met?"

"She's the healer who stitched you shut and spent herself magically so you'd heal as quickly as possible." Rhys said softly looking over the papers again. "Then she disappeared, never to be seen again."

"I didn't disappear. I went back to hiding. My oh so lovely high lord did not clear me to come. My arrogant husband refused to have a cold bed, though." Eris nodded from behind her, sipping his beer again. "He snuck me into you, though. Now I know why."

They watched as she turned and placed a hand on Eris's chest. "I am so proud of you, husband." Eris's smile dropped as she smirked ferally at him. "Who would have known you were capable of making friends?" Eris shut his eyes and bit his inner lip to stop the laughter threatening to spill out.

"Gods why did I marry you?" He looked up to the ceiling. "Wicked, cruel, ruthless little thing you are."

"You sir," she finished pulling out the copies of documents Eris hadn't asked her to steal but she had anyway and handed them to Azriel, "Are the one who forced me into a drunken bargain and then sabotaged my relationships to ensure I would have to marry you."

Cassian opened four more beers as the female poured herself wine. "Now this is a story I need to hear." He settled next to her after handing the beers to the other males. "What exactly happened, little fox? I want to know everything about you and our dear friend, Eris."

Eris growled as Cassian stared down at his wife. "Everything? It all started when Eris and I were like 8."

"I was 12. You were 8." Eris corrected. "We had gone to her family's home. They breed hounds and rumors lead us to believe they had smoke hounds. Beron had beat me for the first time and a puppy was his apology.”

"Artemis!" The young female faeling froze as her father yelled her name. "You need to go bathe, child. The high lord is coming with his son."

Artemis was sitting in the kennel with the new litter of smoke hounds her dog had just birthed almost a month ago. She was covered in dirt, and had fur all over her leggings and tunic she wore while cleaning and working with the hounds.

"Papa! Look at what Scout can do!" She allowed the largest of the male dog to sniff her hand before leaving the kennel and hiding the fabric she was holding in another hounds enclosure. She had dug it deep into the hay and dirt and scent of that hound.

Unknown to her, The High Lord and his son had appeared and were watching as her mother and father apologized profusely. "Scout!" She yelled from the hallway. "Find it!"

Beron watched in silence as a male puppy exited the kennel he was in, sniffing the ground the little female had run all over before locking in on a specific trail. His tail was straight up, shoulders, neck, and head low as he slowly made his way to the part of the run she was nowhere near. He sat and indicated that he had found what he was looking for by barking once as his tail began to wag swiftly.

"I believe we know which hound we want. Your daughter made that quite easy. Right, Eris?" The high lord looked down at his son to find he had locked eyes with the female near his age. Something the princeling wasn't used to.

"Papa?" The girl hid behind her father. "Can I go hide?" Artemis had never seen another child. Not in the seclusion of their farm on the outskirts.

The master of the kennel shut his eyes and whispered another apology. "Of course, baby. I'm sorry. She's not used to seeing anyone other than her mother and I. She's not normally out here when we handle sales. She's very shy."

'So she doesn't want to play?" Eris did the best he could to hide his sadness. He crossed his small arms and hands in front of him.

"I am not sure, my Prince." The older male kneeled down and pointed to the little shed near the kennels. "She probably ran in there. If you'd like to ask. The high lord and I have some paperwork to go over."

"So fucking Eris, comes into my playshed. Without knocking. And asks if I want to play with him. Guess how he responded when I said no?"

Eris smirked, "I commanded her to."

Azriel was invested in the story deeply. He sat and was leaning his head on one hand as Rhys and Eris also took a step and got comfortable. This was the exact information Azriel had actually wanted. Eris in his most intimate moments. The Eris only Cassian and Nesta had grown to know.

"Then she called me a bully. We played for hours. In the creek. In the kennels. In the flower beds. Your mother's food garden."

"Is that when you struck the bargain," Rhysand asked. “Children have been known to do that by accident.”

Eris shook his head. "We were closer to 50 when that happened. We became rivals after we met right away. I couldn't train the hounds the way she could."

"I couldn't use a bow the way he could"

"I had no healing magic the way she did."

"My fire Magic skills weren't coming in as quickly due to my half dawn court heritage."

"She had higher marks in school."

"He had more friends."

"Our birthdays were the same day."

"Our names both have origins with the Gods and we were teased for it."

"She's always been beautiful. I was an ugly brat."

"Accurate." Eris flipped her off and she blew him a kiss.

Rhys paused looking at the two of them. "So you two hated each other?"

She nodded while he shook his head. "I've loved her since we were children. I just wished she'd teach me the things she could do that I couldn't."

"I hated him," she said boldly, causing a rare laugh to come from the shadowsinger. "That was our childhood, though. A constant back and forth of competition."

Eris sighed softly, "And then I realized I wanted her when I had turned 54, and she was 50. We were at a stupid ball my father was throwing in her honor since our families became very close due to the hounds."

Artemis laughed as Eris twirled her again. Her dress swished behind her as he did so. Eris had not allowed another male besides his and her father near her all evening. He had told her it was because it was technically both of their birthdays and what kind of male would he be if he allowed another male the opportunity to dance with the most beautiful female in the room.

Their friendship, if one would or could call it that, had become tense as they approached adulthood. Their hormones from their teenage years had left them both burning for each other. Not that Artemis would ever admit that.

She curtsied as he bowed at the song's end, "Eris."

"Artemis." He immediately interrupted her in the same fashion he always did when she said his name.

"Can we get a drink, please?" Eris took in her flushed face, her labored breathing. He had her out here for almost two hours now without a rest break or beverage.

"Of course, my lady." He offered her his arm as they made their way to the wine table. "Have you had wine yet, or will this be your first time?"

"My first time. What do you suggest, my prince?" Eris handed her the Autumn court golden wine saved for celebrations and special occasions.

"Shall we?" He held his glass to hers.

"We shall." Eris and Artemis drank way too much that night. Giggling and joking with each other as their ambitions fell to none.

They stared off the balcony at the dark orchard in front of them, "Make me a deal, Artemis."

"Depends on what it is, Eris."

The heir smirked at the hiccup in her voice as she leaned into him. They were so far gone. Drunk on each other, happiness, and wine. "If I am not married by say….. 550, let's marry each other."

Artemis paused suddenly sober on his shoulder as they turned to face each other. "What do I get out of that?"

"Me?" The heir seemed offended as he stared at her. "A higher station? All the pretty dresses you could want?"

She scoffed lightly. "My family has the second highest station in this court. My father is your father's right hand. My brothers both have high positions in your armies and command their own legions." She turned back to the Forest. "What of love, Eris? What do you have to offer me there?"

The heir paused before moving to cage her body between him and the balcony. She felt so right in his arms. Like she was made for him. "I can promise you you'll never be alone. That you will feel safe and wanted every day. That you would be my equal in every way. We would make any decisions we needed to make together." He took a deep breath and started again.

"I can promise to warm you bed, magically sugar, every night so you are never cold. That you will be showered with gifts, compliments, and treats." She hummed at the mention of sweets, causing Eris to chuckle. "I promise to take you to every court. To always dance with you."

She whispered softly again. "But what of love, Eris?"

He leaned into her ear, knowing she would not remember the soft confession he was about to whisper to her. "I have loved you since we were children, Artemis. And I will love you long after this world takes its last breath."

She sealed the bargain by crashing her lips onto his. Their first kiss. It was sloppy. Messy. Tasted heavily of honeyed wine, but Eris was too happy to turn it away as matching leaves appeared on both of them.

"I had no clue what the fuck this was from. I was absolutely wasted," Artemis said as she held her left ring finger up. A small fall colored leaf graced the skin right above her wedding band and engagement ring. "He had to tell our families what happened the next morning."

"Father beat me for weeks after that." Eris shrugged as Azriel's jaw dropped. "Fuck him."

Cassian pulled her small hand closer to his face, "Your bargain tattoos look so life like?" Rhys undid the glamour he had on his own Autumn court bargain. An acorn stood out, clear as day, on the wrist joint.

"It's honestly become my favorite." The high lord admitted. "I have never had a seasonal court bargain. I find it unique that their's are symbols instead of runes spelling the conditions."

"I want one." Cassian said. "We'll think of something." He pointed to Eris, who laughed softly.

Azriel was the only one deeply confused as he listened to the love story between Eris and Artemis. One would almost describe his investment as childlike wonder as he flicked his eyes back and forth between the two of them. "So you were in love with her the whole time?" Eris nodded to the shadowsinger. "So why didn't you just marry her?"

"Because his engagement to Morrigan was a- interesting hangnail that left lingering tensions. Even after he told my parents what happened." Sadness was clear in her voice, “That whole thing was a shit show.”

"You contributed to that, my love."

The three illyrians snapped their heads back to the Autumn Court Female. Flush had spread across her chest and cheeks. "I didn't exactly know what she meant when she asked me if I wanted to try that, Eris. She offered a demonstration, I innocently said yes."

"This is true. You did say "penis" to me once before you learned bedroom talk." Cass covered his mouth as she sighed and stared at Eris.

"You're making it sound like we have tons of sex when that's never happened. I said it as a joke, not realizing the real joke was the use of the word "penis." She glared at Eris.

"You two haven't?"

"Nope," They said together.

"Contraceptives do not work on Autumn Court females. Our blood burns too hot. I won't risk it until his father kicks the bucket."

Azriel looked at her, "So you fucked Mor instead?"

"Um-" She began to blush again. "I let her do things after we had discussed how I had never done said things. Yes."

"And then I walked into her guest room thinking I was about to kill some male for touching her, and guess who's there instead with her head buried between my mate's thighs? Morrigan." Eris chugged his beer before grabbing another. "Guess who hasn't gotten to be between his mate's thighs? Eris."

"Cry me a river, Vanserra."

Eris responded by raising a single finger to his wife. Rhys interrupted their impending flirting, "So we know what happened with Morrigan? What led to this?" He motioned to their rings.

"I began to sabotage every relationship she had. Anytime I found out a male was trying to court her, I dueled them, threatened their station, their business, their lives. Or I'd just simply invite myself on her dates." Eris shrugged as he switched to the scotch he hid for special occasions. Everyone had moved to the living room, Eris holding Artemis tight by his side.

"I disappeared for a hundred years though to be transparent," she said softly. Eris hummed before kissing her head.

"You had a valid reason, sugar."

"Eris, please," Artemis was pleading with the male as she braided her long hair. "I really like him."

"He enjoys your company as well." Eris paused as he took in her cream dress and tall dark leather boots. "And by that, I mean your tits. It's all he would talk about at training today." She sighed softly. Eris moved to help her finish her braid.

The scent of toasted sugar and roses clung to her like a second skin now that she had gone through her first heat, and it slapped him in the face. He growled softly in her ear, and she whimpered back. Leaning her head over, she exposed her neck to Eris. "Sugar," he growled in warning.

Protecting her in the Forest House had been nearly impossible during her heats. His brothers and father had nearly slaughtered each other while he stood guard with her brothers.

The bond snapped when he took her in food the second day of that long week. She had been naked in a hot bath, whimpering softly as she desperately tried to ignore the pain growing between her legs and in her stomach. It was a curse only Autumn females experienced. It was a plague to ensure the population stayed high here.

That scent became a warning. He used to dread the first signs of it. Now, years later, it was one of Eris's favorite things. He'd drown in her scent if she'd just allow him to.

"You smell delicious, little bunny," he whispered into her ear. He watched with feral eyes as her breath hitched. "When is your next heat?" She whimpered as his large hands took her hips in them. Grabbing the skin there. Massaging softly.

"It's not supposed to be for another week," He hummed as his mouth grazed the shell of her dedicated pointed ear. He ignored her words, nipping softly at the pointed top. "Eris, please. I need to get ready."

"No, you don't," he paused. "You can stay here and read with me. We can head back to your family estate and check the new litter early. You do not have to go on this date with this unworthy male."

Eris paused as a knock came on her door and went to hide in her closet. He nodded for her to open the door once he warded his scent and sound from whomever was entering the room.

"Enter," she said softly as she began applying soft makeup. "Oh, High Lord, what a pleasant surprise."

Eris watched as his father studied Artemis. "Are you going somewhere, dear one?"

"One of the generals is taking me on a walk, my lord," she replied softly.

"You really must learn to aim higher, Lady Artemis. A general? You could be pursued by much higher ranks."

"I am sorry. I do not know what you mean?" Eris watched as his father walked slowly to his mate. He held back a growl as the hand that had beaten him countless times touched her delicate face.

"You can do much better, Artemis. Surely you know my bed is always open to you." He watched as Artemis looked at his father in shock. "You have come to realize why we keep you here during your heat cycles, haven't you, dear girl? It's in hopes of one of my sons, or I, will put a babe inside of you."

"You wish to make me your whore?" Artemis whispered softly.

"I wish to make you my son's wife, but if the idiot will not take you himself, so I see nothing wrong with another of us trying." Beron touched her neck and collarbone gently. "You smell like your heat is about to set in. Think about my offer, pretty girl."

"I never went on a date that night." Azriel was stiff across from her. His hand clutched. Artemis reached over and held his scarred hand in hers.

"She never went on a date ever again after that. She winnowed home without saying goodbye." Eris found his hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on his wife's back. "I hunted her down before we all ended up under the mountain. The bargain timing was coming to a close. I asked her to marry me in secret the night before we all fell into her trap."

"Artemis," she felt her skin erupt into goosebumps as a familiar voice rang through the smoke hound kennel. "Ah, there you are."

Eris watched as she stood slowly, a pup in her arms, "Eris."

You realize we are both unwed and our birthday is in 2 weeks. Correct?"

Artemis closed her eyes, "I can't go back there, Eris."

"So you'd rather we both die?"

"I've always been fine with you dying." Eris chuckled softly from the spot he stood at as she presented the pup she was holding to him. "This is Archie. She's proving to be a wonderful hunter."

Eris took the pup from her arms and held her. "She has a wonderful build," he examined her carefully. Checking her ears, teeth, eyes. "Who are her bitch and sire?"

Artemis motioned towards the kennel, "Rammie and Rainy." Eris nodded. "She comes from a long line of prize-winning hunters. We picked the two of them to go together after buying out the last other breeder. Less inbreeding among their stock now is making an interesting change."

"Congratulations on the success. We're getting married tonight in secret." Eris dropped the bomb casually on her as he continued to scratch the pup behind her ears. "This little beauty shall be my wedding present."

"You have got to be joking," Artemis said slowly. "No."

"Yes. I do not intend to die over a decision we foolishly made when we were drunk. Get ready and meet me in an hour, or I'll drag you there in your leggings and tunic."

"For all you know," she pointed to the hounds in the kennel, "They were a courting present from the kennelmaster of-."

Eris laughed lightly. "Not his style, princess. He would have just stolen you. Get ready. Now."

"So you two married in silence?" Azriel looked between them. "And you didn't even get to have a mating ceremony or honeymoon because of her. Did you go with him under the mountain?"

Artemis pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. "No," she said softly. "Eris kept me here. I-" She looked up and sighed softly. "The bond hadn't snapped for me. So, I spent 50 years trying to help maintain Autumn with the fewlordss that were left. I regret not going."

"I don't regret leaving you here," Eris ran a hand through her hair, pulling her back into his chest. "She would have killed you."

Rhys nodded slowly, "I wasn't the only one Amarantha played with," the high lord sighed. "If she would have known Eris had a wife, a mate nonetheless, she would have had Artemis pulled under the mountain and her womb ripped out in front of Eris."

Cassian felt sympathy set in for Eris. "So, when did the bond snap?"

The couple both smiled. "When he came home," her eyes were on him and him alone as he raised her hand, kissing it.

Artemis was cleaning kennels as she prepared for her newest litter. There wasn't much she could do as the Autumn thunderstorm raged on outside. She had hoped cleaning kennels would take her mind off her husband, but it hadn't.

She sighed softly at the amount of hounds she currently had. They had wonderful lives. They were enriched, allowed to roam, trained, well fed. It just broke her heart not to see a Vanserra or other noble laying claim to them, though. She had sent a few over the border to Spring once. Lucien had almost cried with joy as the three pups found him. She had sent them with his favorite Autumn treats and her love. Lucien sent her frequent updates on them until they passed.

Eris had approached her slowly, rain dripping down his face and hair as he froze at the sight of her. He wanted nothing more than to see his wife, his mate. She was deep in thought as she picked up blankets and put them in a basket to change them out.

"I know, baby," she leaned down and patted one of the hounds. "You're almost there. Let momma get you some new water and blankets.'"She moved to pick up the basket, looking down as she turned towards where Eris stood. He cleared his throat softly, wanting her attention but not wanting to startle her.

Artemis looked up instantly at the noise. They locked eyes the second she did. Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she stood in silence before dropping the basket.

She ran to him. Jumping in his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. Their lips were on each other instantly. He kissed her deeply as the rain poured on them.

Her hands tangled in his hair. She knew she was crying. But she couldn't bring herself to care. She had missed him. Missed his laugh, his voice, his hands. And Gods, after 50 years apart, she knew. She knew without a shadow of doubt that she was truly, madly, and deeply in love with Eris.

"Eris," she whispered. She opened her eyes, looking into his again. Then she felt it. She felt her gravity shift. Her heartbeat quickened, then slowed. She felt a deep snap radiating through her, and a sob tore through her. "Mate."

Eris let out the soft sob he was holding back. "Mate. I love you."

"I love you," she repeated. He carried her like that into her parent's home where their families waited for them.

Eris had told his parents the second they arrived home in Autumn of the bond. He wanted to truly marry her in front of the whole court. Their fathers had agreed instantly. This benefitted Beron, and for her father, it put Eris one step closer to ending the tyranny.

Azriel truly looked like a child right now. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he rested his chin on his hands. "And now we're here?"

Eris nodded, "And now we're here." Cassian watched as Eris kissed Artemis's ring and softly whispered that he loved her.

Rhys was processing everything slowly. "But Nesta?" He finally said.

Artemis laughed lightly as Eris smirked, "If you're going to dangle a treat in my face, Rhysand, I'm going to try to take it. She would have had to settle for being my consort."

Artemis shrugged, "Or my wife. I technically only have a husband."

Cassian started laughing again. "Oh Mother, if you can survive Eris for almost 500 years, I cannot imagine you and Ness together."

"We got along fine when she sat with me while I healed you. We like the same books, wine, and both enjoy long baths."

Cassian looked at her. "You're the one she keeps asking about then." Artemis looked shocked at Cassian. "She doesn't have a lot of friends."

"Because she's blunt and abrasive? That's why I liked her." Artemis shrugged. "She would have fit in well here. Also-" She turned to Rhysand and smiled. "We're even."

The high lord nodded, "So you don't want me to bring you thousands of gifts?" Eris growled slightly looking at the High Lord.

"She receives PLENTY of gifts. Thank you."

"You could bring me Lucien," she whispered softly. "I miss him."

“Or kill my father,” Eris muttered silently. “Then she could have her baby.”

Artemis released a dreamy sigh, “A little baby to grow with all the love in the world. No Beron. No violence. A new beginning.”

Azriel held up the papers she brought. A silent confirmation that was what they were for. Eris only looked at her, continuing to drink his beer. She knew now. Knew the dangerous reason the 3 of them were here.

“So the legacy begins,” she turned to Eris. “You're ready for things to change?”

Eris only nodded, “I'm ready for change.”

“Then change we will make,” Artemis said as if he was the only being in the room. He was the only one that mattered to her now. She stared at him in pride for a moment before turning to the shadowsinger and pulling out one last paper she had hidden in the corseted bodice. “A map. Of the Forest House.”

The males all moved to the table as she unfolded it, and the discussion began, Artemis at Eris's side. Their future was the only thing on her mind. The new era that her mate would bring to Autumn.

It was time for the narrative to change.

And Artemis knew Eris was a world shaker.

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Text

Harwin Strong - In the Name of Love

Summary - Married to Laenor Velaryon, she finds herself in a union far from ordinary. As Laenor's vulnerability meets the lure of a forbidden attraction, she must decide between loyalty, desire, and the dangerous pursuit of a love that breaks all boundaries.

Pairing - Harwin Strong x Baratheon reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!)

Word count - 2571

Masterlist for Harwin • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"We can keep trying," he insisted, his voice trembling with a desperate kind of hope.

I shook my head slowly, reaching out to wipe away the lone tear that traced a path down his cheek. His vulnerability in that moment was like a knife to my heart.

"I hate that the gods have made me this way," he murmured, his voice thick with frustration and sorrow. He leaned into my embrace, and I instinctively began to rub his back in slow, soothing circles, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin.

"I do not," I whispered, my words barely audible, as I cupped his face gently in my hands. His eyes, filled with a mix of shame and longing, met mine.

"You do not deserve this," he said, his voice cracking as he continued. "You deserve someone who can give you the love you so selflessly offer. Someone whole. Someone... different from me."

"Laenor, my love, it is okay," I said softly, though my heart was shattering under the weight of his words.

I could feel it breaking apart like brittle glass, each piece falling away. But I kept my voice steady, trying to convey a comfort I wasn't sure I believed in.

Laenor Velaryon and I were bound together not by choice or fate, but by the careful calculations of our parents. His mother, Princess Rhaenys, with her Baratheon blood, saw the value in uniting our houses.

A Baratheon and a Velaryon, the match seemed ideal on the surface, a union of strength, power, and legacy. But beneath the veneer of perfection lay a truth that only we knew.

My husband preferred the company of men, a truth he had confessed to me in a moment of honesty before our union had been sealed. And yet, even knowing this, I had felt powerless to stop the arrangement.

I chose to accept it, understanding that perhaps he would be one of the few men to treat me with kindness, despite everything. And he did. In his own way, he did.

But now, as I held him in my arms, his heart laid bare before me, I realized the cruelty of our situation. We were both caught in a web of expectations and obligations, yearning for something we could not have, and bound by something neither of us had chosen.

"Love does not always come in the shape we expect," I whispered, stroking his cheek. "But that does not mean it is any less real."

He closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into my touch. In that moment, I held him not as a wife clinging to a fractured marriage, but as a companion who understood the burden of living a life that was never truly ours to decide.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

"It does not feel right," I murmured, bringing the teacup to my lips, its warmth seeping into my hands as I took a tentative sip, the hot liquid burning a path down my throat, mirroring the unease burning within me.

Across from me, Rhaenyra sat with a thoughtful expression, her eyes narrowed in contemplation.

"Laenor has granted you permission to do so, and it is out of love," she argued gently, her tone both insistent and coaxing. I sighed, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily on my chest.

"He knows it is unfair," she continued, her gaze steady on mine. "But he wants this for you. He wants you to feel pleasure, to have that connection we all crave. It's a kindness, in his own way," she finished, her voice softening.

It was true, no one could deny the whispers that trailed behind me wherever I went, like shadows clinging to my heels. The talk of my union with Laenor had spread, the most pressing concern being the glaring absence of an heir.

An heir that everyone knew was not just expected, but necessary, as if my womb were a vault holding the key to the future.

Laenor, ever thoughtful in his own way, had urged me even before our wedding to consider taking a lover, fully aware of the complexities that entangled our marriage.

He had spoken of it with an almost painful tenderness, acknowledging that he could not give me what I might need. And until now, I had dismissed the idea, reluctant to consider it. But here I was, sitting with Rhaenyra, the thought taking root.

To reach out for another's touch... would it be freedom or betrayal.

"Who would I even choose?" I asked, setting my teacup down with a soft clink.

Rhaenyra's face lit up at my words, a slow smile curving her lips as she realized I was finally contemplating this possibility.

"It would have to be discreet," I murmured, more to myself than to her. "Someone I can trust, someone who understands the need for secrecy... but also someone I would want to be with."

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on me.

"Ser Harwin," Rhaenyra declared as if it were the most obvious choice in the world. My eyes snapped open, a mix of surprise and curiosity flickering through me.

"He is sworn to you, he also has Baratheon-like features. No one would question the legitimacy of any child born from such a union," she explained, her voice brimming with confidence. "And it is no secret that he is quite taken with you."

I bit my lip, turning her words over in my mind. She made it sound so simple, yet I knew there were layers upon layers of complexity to such a choice.

"But what if he does not want to?" I asked, my voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. The thought of such rejection, of laying my intentions bare only to have them cast aside, was daunting.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, a playful exasperation colouring her features.

"Oh, just ask him and see what happens," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Men are not nearly as complicated as they pretend to be. Show him a hint of what you want, and he'll fall over himself trying to please you."

I nodded slowly, picking up my teacup again, the porcelain warm against my palms. As she continued talking, offering tips on how to approach the matter, on what to say and what not to, my thoughts drifted.

Could this truly be a solution?

Could I truly allow myself to want something more than what I had settled for?

The questions buzzed around my mind like restless bees, but I knew one thing, change was inevitable. And perhaps, it was time to embrace it.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

My palms were damp with nerves as I walked briskly through the dimly lit corridors, the doors to my chambers looming closer with every step. Ser Harwin followed a few paces behind, his footfalls steady and familiar, as was his usual practice.

Yet today, his presence seemed to weigh on me more than ever.

"Are you alright?" he asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

I jumped, startled, and turned to see he had closed the distance between us. His face was etched with concern. I nodded quickly, unable to summon a coherent response, and turned back to my chambers, pushing the door open with a shaky hand.

Inside, I could still feel his presence just beyond the threshold, his silhouette visible through the narrow gap in the door as he stood guard. I began to pace, my mind racing with half-formed sentences and discarded ideas on how to approach the subject.

Everything seemed tangled, every possibility too bold or too foolish.

"Ser Harwin," I finally called out, exasperated with my own spiralling thoughts. The door creaked open a crack, his eyes peering in with caution.

"Could you please come inside?" I asked, my voice softer now, tinged with an urgency I couldn't hide. He hesitated only a moment before stepping in, closing the door quietly behind him.

I fidgeted with the ring on my finger, a wedding gift from Laenor. It was a beautiful silver band adorned with two gems, one blue and one yellow, each representing our houses. The colours caught the light as I twisted it back and forth, a small distraction from the pounding of my heart.

One of the gems had a hairline crack, something I hadn't noticed before. My thumb traced over it, feeling the imperfection, a small flaw that seemed to mirror the fissures in our marriage—fractures that had begun long before this moment.

Harwin's eyes flicked to my hands, noticing the nervous motion.

"How can I be of assistance?" he asked, his voice calm but curious. His gaze was steady, but I could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as they darted between my face and my restless hands.

"I wanted to ask you something..." I started, but the words caught in my throat.

I could feel my composure slipping away under his steady watch, my hands moving from my stomach to my forehead as if I could somehow press the words out of my mind.

"Shall I call for a maester?" he asked, his concern deepening. I shook my head quickly, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

"No, no, it's not that," I stammered. There was a long pause, the silence between us thickening like fog. I could feel the weight of my own hesitation bearing down on me, pushing the words out before I could stop them. "Do you think I am... pretty?"

The question hung in the air like a held breath. For a moment, he simply stared at me, his eyes widening in surprise. I watched his face, searching for any sign of discomfort or amusement, but all I found was stunned silence.

"I..." he began, his voice trailing off as he tried to find the right words. His eyes softened as he looked at me, truly looked at me, and I felt my heart skip a beat. "My lady, you are more than pretty. You are... radiant."

His words were careful, almost hesitant as if he feared saying too much.

My breath caught in my throat at the sincerity in his voice. I hadn't expected such an answer, and I found myself momentarily disarmed.

"I mean," I continued, feeling the need to fill the silence that followed, "if you were... if you were given the choice... would you want to be with someone like me?"

His brows furrowed slightly, not in confusion, but in contemplation.

"I would consider it an honour," he said quietly, his voice deep and unwavering. "But I would also consider what such a decision would mean—for you, for your reputation, for everything you hold dear."

I nodded, his response more thoughtful and kind than I had anticipated.

"I don't want to cause trouble," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I want something... something more than this arrangement I find myself in."

The words were like a confession, spilling from a place deep within me that had long been shrouded in silence and doubt.

He took a step closer, his presence steadying me in a way I hadn't expected.

"If it is more that you want," he said softly, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine, "then you should not settle for anything less."

His words settled over me like a blanket of reassurance, stoking a fire that had been smouldering inside me for too long.

"Good," I murmured, my voice trembling with a mix of nerves and desire. And before I could second-guess myself, I surged forward, capturing his lips with mine in a kiss that was both frantic and desperate, a release of everything I had been holding back.

Harwin responded almost instantly, his lips moving against mine with a hunger that matched my own. His hands slid up to cradle my face, his touch firm yet tender, as if I were something both precious and fragile.

I could feel his breath hitch as our mouths moved together, the heat between us building like a storm.

My fingers fumbled at his armour, my need to feel him—every inch of him—driving me to pull away the layers of clothing that separated us. His hands were quick to follow, helping me shed my garments until we were both bare, exposed before one another.

"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, his eyes searching mine for any hesitation. His breath was hot against my skin, sending a thrill through me.

I could only nod, the words tangled in my throat, my body pulsing with a need that I could no longer ignore. "I want this," I whispered, my voice raw with longing. "I need this."

With that, we moved toward the bed, our limbs entwined, and I fell back against the sheets, pulling him down with me. The anticipation coursed through my veins like liquid fire. His body was solid and warm above me, his weight a comforting pressure as he settled between my legs.

He wasted no time, his lips finding mine again as he positioned himself at my entrance. And then, in one smooth motion, he entered me. A gasp escaped my lips at the newness of the sensation—a stretch, a fullness that was foreign and overwhelming.

He began to move inside me, slow at first, allowing me to adjust and then gradually building in pace. As he did, a wave of pleasure unlike anything I had ever known surged through me, and I clung to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Seven hells," I moaned, my mouth finding the curve of his shoulder, my teeth sinking into his skin as I tried to muffle my cries.

The rhythm of his thrusts quickened, and I could feel the tension coiling tighter within me, each stroke bringing me closer to a precipice I hadn't known existed.

"Gods, you feel perfect," he murmured against my ear, his breath hot and ragged as he drove into me with a renewed intensity.

His voice, thick with desire, sent shivers racing across my skin, adding fuel to the fire already burning inside me.

I could feel myself unravelling beneath him, my body responding to his with a fervour I had never experienced before. It was almost too much—this overwhelming pleasure, so sharp and deep it nearly brought tears to my eyes.

I had never felt so alive, so utterly consumed.

"I'm close," he panted, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. I nodded frantically, my own voice reduced to breathy moans and gasps, unable to form coherent words.

"Let me feel you," I managed to whisper, my voice thick with need.

It was all the encouragement he needed. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside me, and I felt his release—a warmth spreading within, mingling with my own pleasure as I shuddered beneath him.

He collapsed beside me, his chest heaving with exertion, his body slick with sweat. I turned to look at him, our eyes meeting in the dim light, a sense of satisfaction and peace settling over me like a soft, warm blanket.

For the first time in a long time, I felt truly seen, truly desired, truly alive.

As we lay there, breathless and spent, I knew that something had shifted between us. The world outside these walls might remain unchanged, with its expectations and whispers, but here, in this moment, I had found a connection that went beyond duty or obligation.

It was raw, unguarded, and real. And for now, that was enough.

A/n - This genuinely consumed me I wasn't even halfway done and realised I had like over 3k words so I had to reel it back but omg I love it!!

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marymary-diva17 · 3 months

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Starting a new life (2)

bridgerton x reader

The chance of starting a new life was something one shouldn't take for grant. Using this time to discover more about themselves, they had haven't seen before as their past selves. When it comes to start over a new life there are times, they might lose their old selves on their journey.

y/n " ....." you are walking around the manor that you have been calling home for a very long time, a place that you had made new memories with Tristan who is still your beloved husband.

maid " good afternoon ma'am"

y/n " good afternoon do you know where can find that husband of mine"

maid 2 " in his office viscountess he has also been wondering where you, have been as well"

y/n " thank you" the maids soon left as you soon went to your husband office, the door was open as you walked inside.

y/n " hello my dear husband it good to see you and I feared I wouldn't, see you today"

Tristan " hello my beautiful wife I'm sorry I missed dinner I was, called to meeting at was very important and I couldn't get out of"

y/n " I understand but it good to have time with you now" you soon kissed Tristan forehead, making the man laugh as he stopped doing his work.

Tristan " I can't believe it has been a very long time since we came here, after all that happened in London"

y/n " yes it has been a very long time"

Tristan "true words my wife and I will not disagree with you"

y/n " yes you are now a viscount/lord after your uncle had passed you down the inheritance, and we got to live for a long time with him here until he had left this world" Tristan had inherited his uncle land and titles after his death, he had been loved by his uncle and aunt who raised him in Scotland for sometime. They had reworded their wills leaving everything to him and his future wife, which was you. There was enough time for you to get to know the couple before, they left this world.

Tristan " yes I still miss him and my aunt to this day I wish they saw what, I have done to legacy they left me"

y/n " they are still by everyone in the house and the lands, but everyone knows you are right to be their heir no one else they are proud of you"

Tristian " proud of us they both loved you and knew you are the right lady for me"

Tristan " speaking our families and everyone else from the ton... minus Eloise and lady danbury"

y/n " I would say yes and no they are still stubborn and think less of you and me"

Tristan " well I love Scotland and I have my respect for lady whistledown for keep her working going, your sister is still a fan of her work"

y/n " yes still a fan of her work we talk about her article here and there, but doing some sister talk as well in letter... lady danbury has also been writing as well"

Tristan " yes and when the day comes we are called home or anyone finds the truth what should we do"

y/n " face it my husband as individuals and as a married couple"

Tristan " Then I will follow your lead my wife"

y/n " speaking of family if the time comes will it be be fine for Eloise to come stay with us, she will love to see more of the world and with her here it will be good for us and household"

Tristan " that sounds wonderful and if your younger siblings wish to come, they can come as well our home is always welcome to them"

Anna ( head maid) " excuse me graces a letter had arrived for you both, it about lady whistle down"

Tristian " thank you we will read it"

y/n " it most be important to be here sent by it self but how does lady whistle down know we will leave"

Tristan " she has her way some of her gossip has been sen here, day or weeks later" the butler soon handed you the column and soon left right away saying nothing else.

Dearest gentle readers,

It has come to this writer's attention after some investigation on my part, and whispers of others that the Lady y/n and Mr Tristan have been, victims of hurtful rumors of the ton. The awful gossip about Lady y/n has been proven to be misunderstandings and Greedy mamas, her relationship with Lord Christian son had ended on good terms as the man had feeling for other women confused to y/n who told him to follow his heart which he had done. The awful gossip of her flirting with other man has been false, as it was told she was talking about sports among the man that sparked her interest along with talking about other young ladies on marriage market. It seems like lady y/n was being helpful after seeing, previous years of marriage season. The only thing she had been reward by others was gossip by the ones she tried to help, and being outcast by ton society. Her meetings she had attended with older women of the ton were nothing nut friendly, finding ways to help London society for all the classes. Now regarding Mr Tristian it seems like all the news we had heard about him, had been made by his jealous no good cousin and no classmate, who which to bring down the young man from his life and standing. It seems like ton society had succeed on breaking the young lady and young man, as lady y/n had been sent away from her home by her own brother the viscount Bridgerton. It has been brought to my attention that viscount had some not good words, towards his sister that had been spoken by his other siblings as well.

Sadly the poor lady y/n had been report to leave that evening to help rebuild her family reputation, and not to ruin any of her family future of marriage and life. There have been some reports she had left that evening to stay at family friend home, and leave in the morning but it has been also two years since we have last seen the young lady after she was sent far far away from the place she called home . I myself feel sorrow for the young pair as they have been surrounded, by hypocrites from the Bridgerton family if we look back on their love stories along with many of other houses of the ton. Now we look towards lady y/n sister Eloise Bridgerton who been now facing the same fate of her big sister ever soon, will we be seeing Eloise leaving as well and never seeing her along with her sister ever again. The only thing that this author hopes is that lady y/n has been able to find some goodness, in her life far from the Ton. It seems like the shame should be on us all, for the treatment we had done on young pair let hope we never make the same mistake again.

Sincerely,

Lady whistle down

Tristan " it seems like truth out now"

y/n " yes now that is out more of the rumors that had been speed about us, will come out soon as well"

Tristian " it no time we will be receiving letters from your sister and lady danbury, your brother will come to country side looking for you to see you are not there"

y/n " well then I think we should pay a visit to London my dear husband"

Tristian " I love that my wife we have been having the my uncle old home there attended to, while we have been here and lady danbury those have the paperwork that makes me viscount like my older but different then him"

y/n " yes she will need to show the queen and court about the changes of work, but it will be good for us in the end"

Tristan " along it will help us save your sister form the ton as well"

y/n " if need I will be bring her with us and anyone else who wishes to escape the ton, vipers most of them have become”

Tristian “ it will be good to have more family in this house, as it seems like we have lacked in kids ourselves”

y/n “ family will come soon for the both of us, my dear husband now let’s tell the staff of our trip so we can get our affairs in order”

Tristian “ yes my love” The staff leaders had been called and told of the news, plans were made right away for the trip back to London. as You had sent word to your sister and lady danbury as you read over the, newest lady whistle down report.

y/n " I think I found out who lady Whistle down and I'm proud of her" you knew who was lady whistle down and smiled, as for ready to leave Scotland back to London. The couple left the next morning after speaking with their friends and the provinces leaders, as well everything was good and everyone wish them luck.

Tristian " are you ready to face everyone again"

y/n " yes I'm ready to face them as the new me and having you by my side, will make everything better" Tristan had nodded his head as the pair took off towards London, to facing everyone after being gone for so long. Some of the reunions will be heartwarming while others will be ice cold. The ton should be ready to face the new viscountess and viscount, because they are no longer the same individuals everyone had outcast as they were ready for defend themselves. The ton had thought lady whistle down had ripped them a new one, they had yet to see that couple had prepared for them. A new life does make a new person.

#eloise bridgerton #bridgerton #colin bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #antony bridgerton #colin bridgeton #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #Bridgerton x sister reader #bridgerton sister reader #bridgerton reader #bridgerton x sister!reader #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton season 3 #daphne bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #benedict bridgerton

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ackerfics · 10 months

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my love is mine all mine ch 2 | toji fushiguro x female reader

part one of to the girls who are failed by the narrative series.

series summary:

'the glorified womb', 'the heir bearer', 'the blessed flower of the jujutsu society' — they are just some of the titles given to the women of your mother's clan, and all of them eventually fell to you, the prodigal firstborn who has the misfortune of birthing someone who will be stronger than their predecessors. with the fate of someone's clan on your shoulders, there are only a handful of things told to you while growing up; be as demure as you can be, never open your mouth and squash your thoughts, sit with a posture befitting that of a lady wearing an invisible yet heavy diadem. but the one that rings the most goes like this: your only purpose in this world is to be a silent wife to a man who will give you the opportunity to carry the next generation of powerful sorcerers. you remember all of these as you walk toward zen'in ogi in your uchikake, the constricting material around your waist akin to the gripping hold of your cursed technique.

and in fate's funny little ways of fabricating legacies and stories, you forget them when you are spirited away by the man who always welcomes the coming of the seasons with you without fail.

chapter title: in our circle of green

warnings: objectifying women, misogynistic beliefs, pregnancy, miscarriage, stillbirth, death

Toji already figured that the Zen’in clan was cruel the moment he could understand words.

Some say that the birth of his older brother marked the downfall of a clan so revered they were supposed to be placed on a pedestal alongside two families in the jujutsu society. Born with a cursed energy that didn’t make the shadows dance, Jinichi is the first ink blot on a pristine scroll of names. Their father, ever the people pleaser and the self-proclaimed heir of the clan, tried to appeal to the elders and the head who are all a bunch of stoic people whom Toji didn’t have the mood to list because they are so withered and grey they are almost unforgettable. Zen’in Ichiro begged them to give him another chance to prove that the Zen’in clan still had the potential to carry on the technique that spoke of them being shadow puppeteers.

And then came him.

While his brother earned cursed energy, Toji did not.

His life ended the moment it started.

He is used as an excuse for blows and barbed words. The scars littering his back and upper arms are just some of the few inflicted on him, the others healing with time. When they saw that his resolve wouldn’t easily break, all of the bruises and wounds went to his parents.

The family finally drove his father insane; and with his father spiralling, the suffering of his mother begins.

Then, came the blaming.

His mother, a woman so kind that she even smiles after receiving the end of his father’s verbal daggers, became a target for the elders. With the veins on her hand visible to the naked eye from how pale she is and the purple bags under her eyes from lack of rest, the wife of the assumed clan heir loved her second son despite being the one thing the Zen’in loathed. Dry hands cupped his chubby cheeks often, her chapped lips murmuring sweet nothings to his ears. She told him she prayed to the gods to make him just the way she was—normal and untainted by the world they were living in. They were words that would remain meaningless to him for they rang with false promises. He never understood her spending more time with him when he was younger. Until he saw her getting dragged by the hair after refusing to lay with him for another child that would become another failure. For the months that his mother endured, just this one rippling event made her take her last breath.

The reason for the death of his mother was him—the boon of the Zen’in clan.

All unlucky things revolved around him.

At least that’s what he was told when they pushed him into a room full of cursed spirits to test his strength.

There is a certain air of unparalleled dignity when covered by the rooftops of the Joushou clan compound, the potent air of purity ringing through the pillars holding it together. Compared to the Zen’in clan residence, those who bear the Joushou family name all lived in a small village in Kyoto, a space barricaded by so many barriers that Toji felt like it’s too much for a clan that isn’t within the triad of the Jujutsu society.

They are going to attend a funeral, his grandfather said. There was no mistaking that when the old man announced that everyone should be on their best behaviour, he was directing the words to both sons of his failed firstborn, specifically him, the boy they threw into a room of cursed spirits and the one they left scars on. When the creaking old man finally retreated to his chambers after the announcement was made, Toji could finally roll his eyes at the absurdity of the situation, the action never unnoticed by his older brother, judging by the low snicker Jinichi made.

Now, they are hiking toward the main house, a parade of black under the canopy of green and slivers of light. The chosen members of the Zen’in clan who were honoured (he wants to barf because it was exactly what the ancient old man said) to attend this funeral walked for about an hour; the compound of this family of purity or whatever they are called is that expansive. Toji swallows the complaint rising in his throat the more he feels his feet straining against the straps of his geta, choosing to keep quiet instead. He doesn’t begin to comprehend the complex layout of this clan compound. Why can’t it be a single house like theirs? With all the talk his uncles make about their family, one would think that the Zen’in clan is the epitome of perfection in the jujutsu society. It’s both bewildering and funny that they don’t hold a candle to the opulence boasted by the Joushou clan.

“Hey,” an annoying voice buzzes in his ear like a fly.

Toji stops giving the gravel his attention and places it on his ugly brother. “What?”

“You notice it?” Jinichi asks.

He keeps on looking at the dimwitted boy with hooded eyes. “What?” he repeats. Toji is not a repeater of his words but when it comes to Jinichi, he tends to do it a lot. His older brother has this habit of never fully explaining the context behind his words, one of the many reasons why Toji’s patience sometimes runs so thin it’s almost like a piece of thread now.

Jinichi rolls his eyes. “The barriers; it’s the twelfth now. ” A second of haughtiness passes in his eyes and he jeers at Toji with an air of superiority over him. “Oh, I forgot — you can’t sense anything.”

“Get to the point,” he grits out.

With a concealed smile, his older brother basks in his simmering irritation while gesturing around the towering woods with his chin. “Do you remember the stories that circulate about Father and Uncle Naobito? How they nearly went ballistic because of a woman so beautiful she managed to ensnare the Gojo heir as well?” Jinichi huffs a laugh, his eyes boring through the backs of their grandfather’s eldest sons. Toji’s eyebrows meet on his forehead at all the stalling. He is about to walk ahead when Jinichi continues talking, “That woman has a daughter and she’s about the same age as us. The barriers around this compound are all for her.”

That piece of information is anything but relevant to Toji. All he knows about the clan they are attending a funeral for is that they are so revered because of their strength that they can walk through someone’s Domain Expansion unscathed. This is the first time he has heard a member of his family mention a woman in this kind of light, almost worshipping with no shred of degradation and discrimination. His brother was talking about this girl with a tone similar to that of his uncle when he found the perfect woman to ruin. Toji doesn’t hold back the sneer on his lips, the scar pulsing with a phantom pain that lays out the image of grotesque humanoid creatures crawling on blackened walls and ceilings. He looks away from his brother and fixes his eyes on the nearing building ahead of them. Too bad there are no pockets in his black kimono. He would have buried his hands hours before.

“What’s that supposed to mean, aniki ?”

Jinichi cracks a chilling smile. “That means she could be offered as a wife to me.”

Toji snaps his neck to give the older boy a look painted in incredulity.

“I am the clan heir’s heir; it is imperative that I have a wife as bewitching, alluring, and docile as a woman born from the bloodline of the Hanamo clan. She will bring a new age of Ten Shadow users to our family and the Zen’in name will be stronger than it was before. With twelve—oh, thirteen—barriers protecting her from the outside world,” Jinichi snickers under his breath, “she must be a treasure.”

“Like I care about her.”

“Of course, you don’t,” his older brother scoffs. “You will never deserve a girl with that kind of calibre—you and your title of the clan’s disappointment.”

A vein nearly pops in his forehead. There is enough of the badmouthing Toji gets from the adults in the clan, he doesn’t need any more of it from his older brother who is a kid himself. “Do not test me, aniki. ”

“What are you going to do about it—grovel?”

“I will tear you to shreds like I did to the room of curses they threw me in,” Toji blandly replies with wide eyes. He notices the slight flinch making Jinichi’s shoulders rise but that is not enough to brew satisfaction into his body, which is already catching up to the older boy even though he is two years Toji’s senior. “So, you can shove your fantasies of marrying a wife made for carrying children right up your hairy ass before I do it for you.”

It takes Jinichi a couple of moments to answer, cold sweat dripping over his brow. “You don’t scare me, you little shit. You are just a fucking bug to me—amounting to nothing. Know your place as the outcast before spewing bullshit like that.”

Toji’s voice is kept within his throat, only choosing to look at Jinichi for as long as it takes until his older brother has enough. Jinichi walks past him, remembering to knock his shoulder against Toji’s. The impact feels like a breeze that only brushes on a piece of fabric. Even the force his older brother has to exert will never make him falter, which is why he is the perfect piece to twist in the puzzle that is their clan. How Fate laughs at him, he thinks; the strength given to him by the deities walking on clouds is the reason why he carries blemishes on his skin like battle armour.

He nearly lets out a scoff. All this is because of a faceless girl so fragile that she should be protected by how many barriers the sorcerers of the Joushou clan can produce.

Yet this faceless girl is anything but ordinary, living up to the hearsays passing around the halls of their residence.

She is small and the kimono covering her figure is embroidered with outlines of red flowers. It is the first time Toji has seen something so bright even with her hair covering the side of her face—practically blinding that he looks at the flower arrangements around the small coffin over her shoulder instead of her miserable face.

For someone who should be mourning for their little sibling, the girl never gives a glance at the displayed body in the middle of the room. Instead, she is tugging on the sleeves of her mother’s kimono, calling for her attention, which in turn attracts all those who are present. Toji can hear the murmurs of the adults around him — curious, unwarranted things that should not be said regarding children. There are whispers of her blooming beauty (how she will grow up to become the next bride touched by the fingers of Izanami) and the suffocating yet pellucid air of her cursed technique (calling to the flowers near him); they are all comments made by men who are older than her father.

Then, she turns around to fix her eyes on him and suddenly, Toji finds himself at a standstill—eyes blank and breathing stagnant as the flowers in her irises bloom with curiosity. She blinks and Toji can see that they touch the skin underneath her eyes.

It is only when she faces her father that Toji can breathe again.

He shakily lets out the sigh lodged in his throat.

A memory surfaces.

In the Zen’in residence on a certain day, there are dolls lined up in the main receiving area, all dressed in elaborate kimonos with the sound of their accessories twinkling from a single gust of wind from the open window. Toji remembers transfixing his attention on these dolls when he was four years old, his curiosity pulsing through his undeveloped mind to touch one of them. His fingers reach out and the tip of his toes carry him closer to the girl wearing a headdress that can tangle with a single nudge. The doll is almost calling to him—the crinkling eyes closing because of the smile on her face, the folds on her attire devoid of creases, and the platforms possessing patterns that match her partner. But Toji also remembers feeling a hand crack against his skin, pushing him from peeking through the edge of the display area and to the ground below him. He remembers the pain that erupted after his head roughly bumped on the hardwood floor. There was no time to whimper in pain because the hand gripped the tendrils of his hair in between their fingers. His eardrums nearly burst as he closed his eyes to accept whatever punishment the hand gave him.

The doll gives off the same feeling as the girl walking through the door. He is itching to reach out to make sure she is real but he knows once he does that, the hand will come back again.

“Man, she is perfect for me,” Jinichi muses beside him.

Toji never takes his eyes off the doorway where the main family of the Joushou clan disappears, answering, “Keep on dreaming.”

“You don’t think so?” Jinichi scoffs. “What? Are you planning on taking her? Don’t—you’ll only soil her holiness with your curse or the better lack of it rather. She will give birth to my heirs and the possible holder of the Ten Shadows cursed technique, mark my words.”

He makes no sign of using his voice. Toji flickers his eyes to the body of the little boy that will be burned later on in the ceremony. If the Hanamo clan can bring forth life with their wombs, why would the mother of that girl give birth to something dead? The doll-like girl then comes into mind—her fluttering eyelashes, the plushness on the apples of her cheeks, her eyes that seem to carry an entire flower field, and her air of only existing in dreams. Will she suffer through the weight of carrying death inside her? Will she assume that lifeless look her mother donned?

“What will you do?”

“What?”

He keeps on talking to Jinichi, “What will you do if she becomes her mother?”

“You mean to test our bond as brothers?”

Stupid. “If it comes to a point that she is not who our world tells us she is—giving birth to dead babies. Will you still accept her? Be faithful and not take any mistress like our father did?”

“Father is a coward,” Jinichi answers. “The women who have the privilege of being offered to us are the cream of the crop as the elders have been saying. We are told that they are the perfect women to breed children into and I will do everything in my power to make sure they will bring life instead of death. The Joushou girl is not an exception.” Toji feels his skin crawl at Jinichi’s smile. “In fact, her womb is the best reason to try and try again, am I right? I bet her father will do that to her mother tonight. Have you seen the look on his face?”

All Toji can offer as a response is silence.

“It’s the look of someone with a goal in mind. Maybe the next time we visit the Joushou compound is for a festival, not a shitty funeral for a dead kid.”

It’s another funeral—this time, not for a dead kid, but for the esteemed Lady Joushou instead.

The previous one was not as suffocating as this one and Toji is not an idiot to detect the miasma of tension surrounding the entire compound. With the Lady gone, the clan is in chaos—if the rotting smell of flowers drifting in the air is any indication. He can hear the elders of both the Jujutsu society and this family urge the head to find potential women to replace the one they have lost. It’s not a surprise to him—older men telling leaders what to do with the future of their clan, having lived in the most grappling environment he knows in his life—but it repulses him that they are outwardly discussing it in the Lady’s funeral.

The funeral rites have ended, the ashes are gathered, condolences are given, and Toji leaves it all behind to enter the withering gardens of the Joushou main residence. He may not have the capacity to feel cursed energy but he can tell that this decay is caused by the Lady’s death. With no one to educate him on the many clans in their society, Toji learned everything by himself. One particular scroll has been hidden away in the library of the Zen’in residence and they entail the history of the Heir Makers. It was only a year ago that he was curious enough to learn more about the doll’s familial lineage. Of course, the Joushou made a name for themselves with their impenetrable cursed technique but it is the Hanamo clan that made the doll’s birth possible. Just like their name, they have something to do with flowers and something about the manipulation of their souls—befriending them to follow their bidding. All of these are overlooked by the fact that just like flowers, they represent the essence of life—fertile wombs and precious beauty above all.

While he walks in this grey scenery, Toji is silent on his feet. Not a single sound emanates from his footsteps. The heavens are not that cruel—they still blessed him with an advantage against those who can sense cursed energy. There is no symphony of birdsong here, almost like they feel that their voices shouldn’t tarnish the melancholy dome around the compound. Toji blends in with the silence. His eyes roam around the dropping shrubs and the raining leaves, his hands nestling inside the sleeves of his black kimono.

A splash of green on the stiff grass catches his attention. He follows it. They form a line, stepping stones even, toward her.

The doll is crying in the middle of a pond of grass, her back turned from him. Her hair is pinned close to her head, her black funeral garb once again embroidered with red outlines of flowers that seem to bring colour to this eternal void. Even without facing him, he can tell she is crying from the way her tiny shoulders shake. Of course, she won’t notice him, nobody can, so Toji takes this time to watch her silently and let her heart cry for her mother. The sight in front of him calls all of his attention for her tears bring a solitary flower to sprout from the ground. It’s oddly beautiful, he finds himself thinking. He expects her to grow more flowers from her grief.

What he doesn’t expect is her looking over her shoulder to zone in on him, those flower fields for eyes arresting him in place and rendering him motionless.

The pounding of his heart echoes through the chambers of his heart, alerting the tingles in his stomach to flutter their wings. It’s different from the paced heartbeat he experiences whenever someone pushes him into the mud in the Zen’in estate. This particular reaction from just her making eye contact with him pushes the heat to climb to his face, dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It’s the first time he feels embarrassed about being noticed.

She is as pretty as her cursed technique.

“Who are you?” her voice carries through the dead garden.

Toji nearly jumps in place but he covers it with a cough from behind the sleeve of his kimono.

She cuts him off from answering. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Her eyes cut through the open shoji doors behind him.

“And you’re supposed to be out there,” Toji nonchalantly remarks with a thumb pointing behind him.

The doll blinks, her eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings on her skin. She looks away from him and blue washes over her tiny figure. “I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t want to be there either, which is why I’m here.”

Annoyance flickers on her face as she juts her bottom lip in a pout. Toji blankly stares at the unwarranted gesture—cute. She really is like a doll; so fragile, dainty, and tiny that nobody has the right to touch her, including him. The distance between them will remain as is; something he will never lessen through weathering seasons. This girl’s existence is everything he is not and she is worth more than him, way more than his family can offer. She breathes life in her tears—who knows what she will bring with her touch. “The elders won’t like it if you’re here,” she finally fills in the silence.

“I don’t care what the elders have to say. I stopped caring a long time ago.”

She thoughtfully brings her attention back to him. “I remember you.”

Toji can’t help but wear shock on his face.

“You’re the boy who looked friendly two years ago. You were at my,” she chokes up, “brother’s funeral two years ago.”

So he did leave a lasting impression on her. For whatever reason, Toji doesn’t know.

“I think you’re the only one who looked friendly, that’s why I remember you.”

Him—friendly? He is described as looking like a demon spawn by many. Not to mention that he inherited his family’s signature harsh look, narrow eyes, and face always set in a scowl without trying. People will say otherwise if they heard what came out of this princess’s mouth.

“Hey, princess, I’m anything but friendly.”

“The flowers aren’t afraid of you, including this one,” she nods at the flower swaying in the wind, the only witness to their exchange and the first one to many to come. There’s no smile on her face but her tone suggests something that douses Toji in a foreign feeling. Nobody has given him this kind of attention before and it’s getting hard not to look away from her. “You’re not like the rest of your family.”

Toji scoffs. “Of course, I’m not—”

“I can tell you have more heart than them.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

“If other people from your family found me here, this conversation wouldn’t be the same as the one we’re having now. They will tell my father and he will scold me like he scolded Mother. Or worse, they’ll pick me as a bride.”

He remembers his older brother asking their father about his possible betrothal to the treasure of the Joushou clan but Jinichi was instantly shut down by a drunk remark, saying that he will never be good enough for something precious as the girl. Toji also remembers Jinichi letting out his frustrations and anger at him in the dead of the night when the servants were asleep and the night was cold, pushing him out of the residence and forcing him to lay on the garden’s pebbled path as if it’s his fault for ruining a potential alliance—Toji is bad luck as Jinichi stated.

After gaining sentience and understanding, Toji hates everything that his clan stands for. So, he should also be hating this girl. She is the pinnacle of jujutsu and every special case is something to be revered at. However, looking at her right now, how can someone suggest that they marry someone younger than the youngest member of the Zen’in clan?

“You’re too young to marry anyway,” Toji replies while scratching his head. “What good would marrying a kid give to the old geezers I know?” He then sighs, “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be playing with dolls at this age? Why are you already talking about marriage?”

She looks away. “Because my mother is dead.”

“Hah?” he exclaims. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Her eyes dim a little and Toji curses himself for not thinking before speaking. “Father needs good alliances for ruining the one he has with my mother’s family. I’ve heard him talk.”

“And he’s what? Selling you to my clan?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Well, that sucks.”

The doll nods.

Toji clicks his tongue. “If they keep on pestering you to be their wife, you might as well just run away.”

She tilts her head, making her look like an adorable stuffed toy hanging on stalls in festival games. “Mother told me that would be the worst thing to do. Father would be angry and I would be chased.”

Something becomes stuck at the back of his throat. How will those words influence you when your mother is dead, is the unsaid thought lingering in his mind. He chooses to let them bubble inside him. Instead, he says, “If I were you, I would have run away from the moment I heard my father arranging marriage proposals. It sounds like an escape that I would want from everything if I’m being honest. And now that I’m thinking about it, marrying into the Zen’in clan will mean that you will become either my aunt or my sister. I don’t know which of the two I prefer.”

“I don’t think I’d prefer any of that either.”

Toji watches as she fiddles with the petals of the carnation resting on her palm. Hesitation keeps making him twitch, from the tips of his fingers to the shuffling in his feet. The distance between them lessens as he follows the trail of green toward her. His hands are still hiding in his sleeves and he paints a picture of nonchalance on his face, one that doesn’t betray how his heart is racing at the thought of being in the same circle as her. The doll he was reaching for when he was young is finally within his reach. He plops on the spot next to her, far from her and the flower but not that much to warrant any awkward air around them.

“Toji.”

“Hmm?” The girl doesn’t even flinch in surprise at his proximity.

He fixes her a glance, almost grumbling, “That’s my name—Toji. Figured that if you want my help in running away, you should know it.”

She finally smiles, a tiny one but still noticeable within the monochromatic background they are surrounded by, and his hands become sweaty at the sight. The girl doesn’t even know the power she has while doing it. A piece of hair falls from her elaborate hairstyle, draping itself over her shoulder, with Toji’s hand itching to push it behind her ear. What is wrong with him? He feels his face heat up while looking away from her. Unwarranted thoughts circle the caverns of his head, all concerning the girl beside him. Regretting his decision to sit with her in the only vibrant area of the withered garden, Toji covers the bottom half of his face with one hand, finding the gentle swaying of the breeze among the grey leaves entertaining.

“[Name].”

“Huh?”

“Nice to meet you, Toji-san,” she once again offers a small smile that reaches her eyes. “I’m [Name]. Thank you for talking to me.”

He clicks his tongue. “It’s nothing—just thought that you could use some company because everyone seems to be fawning over your father.”

She doesn’t reply, simply looking down at her lap like she is taught.

No words are exchanged between the two of them. The silence is not palpable to push them into creating meaningless chatter.

It’s just the two of them—a boy who has nothing to his name except for being part of a family he wants to escape from and a girl who starts feeling the strings dictating her every move.

As the funeral rites go on behind them and as the afternoon makes way for the sun to peek through the cloud formations, the colour spreads from where they are sitting, and in the space between them, Toji notices a small bush of hydrangeas* touching the tips of his wooden slippers.

taglist (send an ask or a reply if you want to be added !! )

@booblikerlhc @sugutoad @sakuralikestars @fandomfloozy @the2ndl @silent-sondering @idktbhloley @ruizrei @m0nsterzl0ve

#— rory's passages 🌼#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x you

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berzahoes · 10 months

Text

i’m cool enough | johnny knoxville

summary: johnny and the reader’s daughter thinks her dad is cool unlike her brother.

an: silver foxville supremacy!! also the daughter has a random name, if you’d like to change it, you’re welcome to do so <3 btw i’m going to use johnny instead of pj for this fic

warnings: mentions of vomit

“and how is the family? you’ve got two teenagers?” jimmy kimmel asked. johnny was a guest on the tonight show since he was promoting ‘jackass forever’.

“yeah, i have a son and a daughter. mason and olivia,” johnny nodded. “they’re great kids.”

“and do they care that their dad is johnny knoxville? i saw a clip from steve-o’s podcast the other day and you said your son has never watched any jackass stuff?”

johnny laughed. “that’s right. he hasn’t watched any of the movies because one, he doesn’t like seeing me hurt and two, he thinks it’s lame.”

“and your daughter? has she seen anything?”

“she has watched some stuff like the lamborghini tooth pull, but she loves it when i’m the one doing the stunts like the bull roller skating stunt.“ he explained. he remembers the first time olivia had ever seen a jackass stunt. she was ten and it was the toro totter stunt where he mentioned many times that he had won since he was the last one standing.

“so you have one kid who thinks you’re the coolest dad on the planet and another kid who thinks it’s time for retirement.” jimmy chuckled along with the audience.

“mason is just there to keep me humble.”

“does your wife like olivia watching your stunts? i’m guessing she doesn’t want your daughter even attempting a stunt.” jimmy was right. you made both mason and olivia promise that they would never ever try a stunt. they kept their promise so far. you dreaded the day when olivia or mason (especially olivia) came into the house with a broken arm or missing teeth because of a stunt they tried to do.

“she doesn’t mind the kids watching, just as long as clothes are on and there’s no vomit. my wife hates vomit. she will not enter a room if she hears someone say that they feel like they’re about to vomit.” johnny explained. “she also doesn’t want the kids doing stunts, which i agree, we don’t want our kids getting hurt. i tell them ‘leave the stupid dangerous stuff to me!’.”

“so no jackass legacy?”

“my wife will kill me if one of my kids ends up with a tiny scratch.”

#johnny knoxville #jackass #jackass forever #johnny knoxville x reader #johnny knoxville imagine #johnny knoxville fluff

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empress-simps · 4 months

Text

Self-Destruct [One]

Pairing: James Potter x Fem! Reader, Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Y/n Holstein tends to self-sabotage when something good happens, such as James Potter who came into her dark and dreary world like a ray of sunshine that she never knew she needed.

CW: Family pressure and hints of abuse by Walburga (3.1k words)

Note: The ending is cute guys don't worry! Welcome to the first chapter, enjoy!🫶🏻

The Burden of a Legacy

It was always like this.

You felt like your feet were planted to the ground; hearing your mother’s thundering voice inside your father’s study was the glue that kept you in your place as you stood outside the seemingly enormous dark oak door that separates you from them.

“Must I tell you again and again to be careful with your words, Ludwig?”

Callista thundered, her dark green dress swaying as she marched up in front of him.

Ludwig looked up from the documents he’s currently reading, his cold and emotionless gaze is a stark contrast to his wife’s fiery glare.

Taking a long drag from his cigarette, he replied, “You spoil her— coddling her too much. You give in to her every whim, which made her soft.”

You bit your lip, your stare almost burning a hole in the door. Feeling the all-too-familiar prickling sensation in your eyes, you tried to hold it in. After all you’ve done to prove yourself— to please him, it still wasn’t enough?

“She is just a child!” Callista scoffed, “Are you hearing yourself? That is your child-“she was interrupted by Ludwig.

“That is precisely why I do this for her, my love. It’s for her own good.” his eyes turned steely, “I am simply preparing her.”

“For what?! What is it that you must prepare her for just to excuse your behavior towards your own child?!” she yelled exasperatedly.

Ludwig paid no mind to his wife’s antics; he calmly sets his cigarette down the ash tray; the billowing smoke fills the air with a faint hint of tobacco.

“It may seem simple in your eyes, my love.” He starts, clearing his desk before clasping his hands together, “It is much more than her attending Hogwarts to have fun, make friends, or study— She’s already far off compared to her peers; Our child is gifted, destined for greatness.”

He nods to himself, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “She is there to make connections— form new alliances.”

"She is just a child, yet you burden her with expectations that would weigh heavily on the shoulders of even the most seasoned wizard!" Callista cried out, her voice a mixture of despair and fury.

"You see her as an extension of us, an extension of the family legacy! Like she is a mere pawn in the chessboard of wizarding politics, but she is more than that, Ludwig. Y/n is more than just the heir of our house."

Ludwig stood, his height towering over Callista. “Yes, she is more, and that is why she must be strong. Our world is not kind to the weak, nor does it spare the naive. She must be ready to stand against the tides that would seek to sweep her away.”

Callista's eyes softened, "At what cost? Must our daughter grow up before her time, robbed of the joys that she should experience?" She saw how Ludwig falter, a rare glimpse of conflict was plastered on his face for a split second before turning impassive, yet again.

“The cost is high, indeed. But the cost of failure, of weakness, is far greater. She must not only survive; she must thrive. She must lead.”

The room fell silent, the tension hanging thick as the smoke from Ludwig’s cigarette. Callista knew her husband’s resolve was unyielding, but she also knew the love he has for their daughter. It was a love entangled in fear and hope, he wants their daughter to surpass him, to surpass everyone else.

In that silence, they both understood the burden that was placed upon their child, the only heir of their house. A burden of greatness, of expectations, and of a legacy that must be upheld. The path would be difficult, but it was the path they had chosen for her, and one day, she would have to walk it alone.

Dearest Sirius,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have already received my Hogwarts acceptance letter, I am assuming you also did, so congratulations. However, I still need to purchase a wand and other necessities, would you like to accompany me? Mother is also coming with us if you do wish to join.

I will be waiting for your reply.

Your friend,

Y/n Holstein

You set the parchment down and let it dry for a minute before folding it and have your family owl send it to 12 Grimmauld Place. Not long after, the owl came and was perched in your window, tapping the glass with its beak as a letter was tied to his foot.

“Oh, that’s quick…” You quickly untied the letter and gave the owl a treat and some pets before it flew away. Sitting at the foot of your bed, you ripped the wax seal open and read Sirius’ elegant handwriting— not that you would admit it, of course. His ego is higher than the Eiffel tower, it’s immeasurable.

My beautiful bride,

You are already aware how it is for me here, so why bother asking? Of course I would love to go with you! I have already informed mother and she surprisingly agreed, we will be there in the morning. Mother will accompany me through the Floo network to your manor. I cannot wait!

Your oh-so-loving future husband,

Sirius Orion Black

Your face scrunches in annoyance at the nickname; Sirius isn’t wrong though; you actually are betrothed to the Heir of the house of Black. Once both of you reach the mature age of seventeen, you are to be married to each other.

Carefully setting the letter down, you exited your room and searched for your mother in the vast gardens of your estate.

After a couple minutes of searching, you sighed. “Cinder?” Calling out, you heard a pop in front of you almost immediately.

“Young mistress?”

“Where is my mother, Cinder? I have to speak to her.”

“Mistress Holstein is in the gazebo.” Cinder replied, you hummed, “Alright. Thank you, Cinder.”

Just like that, the house elf nodded and disappeared with a pop.

You started to walk towards the gazebo, reaching it in under five minutes. As you neared, you noticed she wasn’t alone, she was conversing with Druella Black, Sirius’ aunt.

“My darling girl, care to join us for tea?” Your mother asks, greeting you with a smile. Smiling back, you replied, “It’s alright, mother. Good day, Mrs. Black.” Druella offered you a polite smile.

“Good day to you too, miss Holstein.”

Callista sets down her teacup down the table, placing her elegant perfectly in her lap as she raised an eyebrow at you, “Now now, it’s unlike you to join your poor mother for teatime. What seems to be the problem, my dear?”

You try to hide the blush on your face as you heard Druella chuckle quietly, “I just wanted to let you know that Sirius will come with us tomorrow.” Callista smiled, clapping her hands together. “That’s wonderful!”

“Going on a little date, perhaps?” Druella grinned, looking at you as she sipped her tea. Your cheeks turned a shade brighter, “We will shop for school requirements tomorrow, I don’t think dates will happen anytime soon.” Callista chuckled.

“You never know, they will be attending Hogwarts soon.”

“I’m sure that young Sirius is a refined gentleman, Walburga teaches her sons well.”

The air became heavy as Druella tried to hide her pursed lips, “Yes, she does.” she uttered before taking a long sip, which went unnoticed by your mother.

"Sirius." Walburga's voice thundered, going down the staircase with Regulus behind her.

Sirius' smile was wiped from his face as he stood up from the couch to greet his mother, his hair combed neatly to the side, and not a single speck of dust in his clothes.

"Mother." Sirius greeted, Walburga walked towards him with an unreadable expression before kneeling down his height and digging her fingers into his shoulders.

"You listen to me well, Sirius." She warned Sirius. He tried his absolute best not to whimper since he knows that the punishment will be worse. "If I ever heard you misbehave or do something that can tarnish the family name— you know what entails."

Regulus looked at his brother worriedly, twiddling his thumbs. He truly wanted to protect his brother, to stand between him and their mother but Sirius told him to not get in the way under any circumstances. Sirius cannot risk his brother being hurt by anyone— they need to get through him first.

Walburga didn’t wait for her son’s reply before practically pulling him beside her and flooing to the Holstein manor. Regulus looked, a small twinge of jealousy as they disappeared, wishing he could also escape this suffocating household for just a short while.

Callista chuckles, shaking her head lovingly as you practically looked at the fireplace of your manor every ten seconds.

“My my, is someone impatient?” She nears, making you widen your eyes and stiffen your body. Ah, caught red handed, weren’t you?

“I am simply just waiting for Lady Black and Sirius to arrive, mother.”

She gave you a knowing smile, “Hm is that so?”

“Yes, mother.” The blush on your face says otherwise, but your mother decided not to tease you any longer as the fireplace roared to reveal Walburga Black holding Sirius who looked excited.

You nearly jumped out of your seat, rushing over as Callista follows you behind, hiding a smile directed at you and Sirius as she greets Walburga.

“Lady Black, it is such a pleasure for you to allow Sirius to come with us.” You saw your mother offer a polite smile to the pale and beautiful woman in front of her.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Holstein. After all, our children will wed when they come of age, so it is ideal for him to spend time with his future wife.” Walburga hummed, turning to look at her child. “Isn’t that right, my darling?”

Sirius could only nod as his blush overtook his features, it took him a few seconds to actually utter out a response. “Yes, mother. Good morning, Lady Holstein.” He bowed in greeting, his stance is perfect, and his movements were fluid. He is one of the picture-perfect pureblood heirs in the wizarding world after all.

Callista smiles and greets him back, you took it as a sign to greet his mother too. “Good morning, Lady Black. Thank you for letting Sirius accompany me.” You curtsied.

Walburga hummed approvingly, observing you. “Good morning to you too, miss Holstein. Very well, I’m afraid I must go, Lady Holstein. My younger son, Regulus, might be looking for me.”

You didn’t miss the grimace Sirius did, Callista chuckled, oblivious to his reaction. “Ah, of course! I wouldn’t want to keep your child waiting.” Walburga smiles politely, shooting a discreet look in Sirius’ direction before walking towards the fireplace, the roaring flames engulfed her form and transport her back to their home.

“Look! Aren’t those the Holstein’s and Black’s heirs?” Someone gasped.

“Merlin, so it’s true then? They’ve arranged a marriage between those kids…”

“They’re powerful enough, why do they even need to marry each other?”

“You know how the Blacks are… and the Holsteins always wants the best.”

“Look how they’re holding hands! Quite rare to find young love in those pure bloods, eh?”

Whispers surrounded you as soon as you stepped foot into the streets of Diagon Alley. You can feel their eyes follow the three of you while walking beside your mother and Sirius. “Do not mind them, children.” Callista took yours and Sirius’ hands as you entered the first shop that marks the start of your shopping trip; Ollivanders.

The bell above the door of Ollivanders tinkles as you step inside. The air is thick with the scent of aged wood and magic. Your mother, sensing your nervousness, squeezed your hands in assurance.

The sound makes Mr. Ollivander stop and peer to the entrance of the shop as he was currently arranging boxes of wands. He widened his eyes in recognition and abandons his task at hand as he greets you and Sirius. “Ah, Ms. Holstein and Mr. Black! I must say, I’ve been waiting for you both.” He says, with a noticeable twinkle in his eyes.

You weren’t quite sure what to say, luckily, Callista conversed with the man. “Mr. Ollivander, lovely to see you.” She nods politely.

Ollivander quickly goes to his shelves full of wands and takes out two boxes, placing it on his desk and revealing two beautiful wands. He then gave a wand each for you and Sirius.

You gently held it in your hands, staring in wonder. The wand felt warm in your hand, seemingly tingling with magic that is waiting to be released by the right wizard. You bet Sirius’ expression’s the same as you heard him suck in a breath and admire the sleek fancy wand in his hand.

Ollivander grinned, “Well? Go on, give it a flick! You may go first, miss Holstein!” You bit your lip and flicked the wand pointing at the direction of a bookshelf. You watched it quiver, books falling down and opening, the books spewed out papers all over the place at a fast rate. It made you quickly place the wand at the table, and took a step back, near your mother and Sirius, cringing as you felt eyes on you.

Another mistake. Stupid girl, stupid Holstein.

“Oh my! Not the one apparently…” Ollivander murmured, flicking his wand to restore the bookshelf's original state. Sirius noticed your reaction and reached for your hand, squeezing it gently.

“No need to worry Miss Holstein! Happens all the time.” Ollivander shot you a kind smile before motioning Sirius to do the same. If you weren't so embarrassed, you would've let out a chuckle as Sirius sets the same bookshelf on fire. Merlin, the damn shelf must've been so traumatized already.

Ollivander hummed, flicking his wand as he willed the fire to disappear. "Hm, definitely not." He grabbed both wands and went to the back of his shop, mumbling to himself and picking out a few boxes for you and Sirius to try out.

After a few unsuccessful attempts from you and Sirius, (nearly blasted the windows of the shop and made one shelf collapse) you were finally presented with your wands— at least, what you'd like to think, you can't handle another embarrassing accident happening inside the shop. Just what will your father think?

"This might just be the one," Ollivander took out a wand from its box and placed it to your unsure and hesitant palms.

"Eleven inches, holly with a phoenix feather core. Quite a powerful one, if you ask me. Picky too, been sitting in my shop for a long time." He nods thoughtfully, mumbling as he studied you and the wand.

You gulped inaudibly, great— another chance for embarrassment.

Although, it wasn't like the previous wands you've tried. This feels... light? It also molds into your hand, as if it was exclusively made for you, strange.

You gave it a flick, expecting something to get destroyed, but you were pleasantly shocked as it illuminated a glow. Ollivander smiled in approval and Callista lets out a soft gasp.

"It seems that you were the witch the wand was waiting for all along." You felt immense pride as you admired the wand in all its beauty.

Sirius then tried his next, a sleek ebony wand. instead of it glowing, a sudden gust of wind out of nowhere suddenly danced around him, messing up some lf his wavy locks in the process.

"A match as well." Ollivander hums approvingly. Grinning, he takes the wands and proceeds to pack it.

"Fourteen galleons for the two wands." Ollivander smiled, Callista then proceeded to give the money before getting the wands and leaving the shop with you and Sirius in tow.

"Where to next, mother?" You asked, walking alongside her and trying to match her pace as you three navigated the bustling streets of Diagon Alley.

"Flourish and Blotts, my dears. You both have your lists, correct?" Callista asked as they neared the famous bookshop. Sirius replied, "I have them memorized, Lady Holstein."

Callista grins at him, patting his head. "Even better." You huffed, looking at Sirius who grinned at you teasingly. "Show off."

Upon entering, you were greeted with shelves upon shelves of parchment, quills, and spell books one might need in their education at Hogwarts. Sirius picked up a book titled “The Standard Book of Spells” while you grabbed “A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration.”

“Excited?” Sirius asks, his gray eyes locking onto yours. His cheeks flush, and you wonder if he’s thinking about more than just textbooks. "You can say that."

After successfully shopping for books, you all agreed to have lunch as it was already afternoon. Callista turned towards both of you, "Where would you like to eat, my dearests?"

You hummed, deep in thought as Sirius shuffled around a bit awkwardly. "Erm, mother don't usually let us eat outside our home, Lady Holstein." Callista raised her eyebrows in surprise, "Is that so?" She turned to look at you, it seems like you can't pick. "Well, how about I choose for today? Will that be alright?"

You both agreed, as you both followed Callista, you felt a random kid almost knock you over, luckily, Sirius was there to prevent you from an embarrassing fall. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't see you!" The boy apologized, picking up his fallen glasses beside your feet as you stared him down. It seemed like he's around your age and most probably shopping for school supplies as well. His face isn't that familiar to you, is he perhaps a half-blood or a muggleborn? "I suggest you get your glasses checked, it's quite alarming as you already have one on and is still having difficulties figuring out if you are walking towards a person or not." You replied, quite annoyed as you dusted off your clothes.

The boy frowned as he adjusted his glasses on his face and stood on his full height. It seems like he's almost the same height as Sirius, just a bit taller. "That's not nice." The urge to sneer was becoming more impossible to control. "Your body slamming into me isn't all that pleasant too."

Sirius frowned, looking at the two of you. "Come on, Y/n." He pulled you away, not wanting to get into any fights. "Your mother is waiting." You finally relented, looking at the corner of your eyes as you slowly walk away to see his gaze fixed on you before his mother calls out to him, effectively breaking the eye contact shared between both of you. What a weird and quite annoying encounter, like a jinx out of nowhere.

#james potter #james potter x y/n #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black #james potter x reader #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #remus lupin

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