#than i am towards the idea of them getting traditional married and having a traditional family and birthing traditional babies. boh-ring

[roobylavender]

you know what would automatically change my hatred to love for sasusaku? If their genders were reversed. Majority of the reason why I hate sasuke and sakura relationship is because the type of environment and the culture I grew up in where it's been fed to women since basically birth to always be faithful to her man no matter how terrible he treats her, even after marriage. The pharse, "Just be patient and he will change", infuriates me to another level. Seeing sakura chasing after sasuke throughout the series after numerous rejections and an attempted MURDER on her by him made me roll my eyes so hard like girl just move the fuck on omfg. And even after their "marriage" sasuke's treatment towards her doesn't get better lmao, leaving her alone with a whole ass child to take care by herself?? BYE sakura's patience for him is outmatch cus I would've divorced his ass for that. Though, the more I mature, little by little I begin to understand the complexity of their relationship after putting my gender issues aside for a second and look deep into them. And especially now, after reading your perspective on their whole relationship, it really did made half of my hatred go away and understand the relationship wholeheartedly. Like yeah, I absolutely love the trope of one person saying they don't deserve the other person's love but the other person keep loving them anyway, that stuff makes me giggle and swing my legs in the air and shit. It's just that the only way this trope would work for me if the person loving them has enough self-respect for themselves AND if it's a girl in the former & the guy in the latter. And honestly, I found naruto being borderline obsessed with sasuke annoying too but the reason why I can digest it more well is because naruto can go head to head with sasuke without backing down. Like, I wanted to see at least ONCE sakura having a heated argument with sasuke, or punch him in the face in the series. I feel like sasuke deserves a punch from her at the very least 🤷🏽‍♀️

Sigh, I really did wanna love their relationship and their journey to love (that scene of him catching her when she was about to fall and then having that iconic eye contact had me feeling butterflies ngl) since it has all the tropes I love but the execution is just so...

i mean if it helps any i absolutely hate post-canon and that's where my primary divide with most sasusaku fans lies 😭 i'm not sure if you read the blue-plums post i reblogged but it's a good dissection of why exactly it fails as a conclusion to both their individual arcs and their relationship arc generally. the post-canon we see is a direct answer to what sasuke's and sakura's dreams are at the start of the series, but the problem with this is that sasuke and sakura are nowhere near being the same people at the end of the series as they were at the start. generally, i don't think post-canon really takes the individual arc of any character into much account. its primary goal is maintaining the status quo with a slight veneer of friendship power draped over it for aesthetics. but nothing at the root is changed despite every traumatic development the characters were relentlessly subjected to. resultantly, you're left with a portrayal of sasuke as a neglectful father who glorifies the lone-wolf hero trope, which goes against everything he could possibly have learned from itachi; and you're left with a portrayal of sakura as someone content to keep house despite the bulk of her character arc being grounded in her ability and desire to take initiative not only at home, but abroad. it's not true to who either of them is by that point and, even more than that, it's a disservice to everything they've put themselves through for the sake of the love they were vying for. so while i love sasusaku as it progresses up through 699, i tend to wholeheartedly ignore whatever comes after and relegate that instead to either my own imagination or blue-plums's in her fics

what i will say about the naruto and sakura distinction is that a lot of people are more comfortable with how sasuke reacts to naruto bc they believe what naruto is doing is right. it's kind of like: if the only thing sasuke will realistically respond to is violence then obv naruto can resort to that violence without dwelling on it too much. but if you think about violence in the context of sasuke's entire life, it's not actually helpful at all beyond its ability to physically bring him to a grinding halt. even when naruto finally breaks through to sasuke, it's not the violence that makes things click for him. it's the words he says after, and it's the words he's always said before that that have stayed in sasuke's mind. violence, in contrast, is a poisonous thing for sasuke bc it's the only thing that has defined the parameters of his entire life. it robbed him of every person he cared about prior to his meeting team seven, and inevitably it intimidated him into seeking out more violence once he realized that he was incapable of saving the new people he'd come to care about as well. everything, at the root, was driven by sasuke's traumatically-exacerbated response to love and loss. the idea of losing naruto and sakura to the hands of anyone else was unbearable. so he decided that he'd rather have killed them himself. it was absolutely irrational. but a twelve year old child put through that kind of successive, relentless trauma was never going to think rationally, and certainly not after being exploited by people like orochimaru and obito (and to an extent itachi) in turn

all of this to say: there is of course a gendered aspect to the fact that sakura's response to sasuke is markedly not violence. but i also think people sort of refuse to dissect her response any further and esp in context of the narrative itself. despite being the hallmark of rationality within the team and perhaps even the series, sakura was inevitably always driven by the value she placed on humanity. it would've been so easy and rational and "right" to kill sasuke bc he was an insurgent, a terrorist, a danger to public safety, etc. but sakura knew it was more complicated than that. even without knowing about the intricacies of the uchiha massacre she'd been a witness to his suffering and struggle and helplessness. she was as much unable to kill him bc of her love for him as she was unable to kill him bc she knew it wouldn't be right. bc really, what would it solve. sasuke being written off or dying would accomplish nothing bc he would become one more person in the long line of victims to nationalism and the military-industrial complex. while naruto's desire to retrieve sasuke was driven by his love for him it was also driven by the fact that he was stubborn and relentless and refused to give up on people. if you won't believe in yourself i'll beat the belief into you. it's a very shounen-esque trait. in contrast, sakura's desire to retrieve sakura, while also driven by her love for him, was significantly driven by her ability to see that sasuke needed help. in fact, that's all she ever wanted him to get: help. and it would be one thing for this to be an isolated desire but when you read it in context of her own goals as a medic and a mental health professional, her unwavering belief in sasuke is a lot more striking. she was the only person in the entire narrative who never resorted to violence as a solution to sasuke's problems. and she was angry, to be sure. much as she loves him the struggle to bring him back and convince him that he was worthy of love and healing left her emotionally exhausted. but they're also children at the end of the day. she could've been angry at him, or naruto could've been angry him, and in the end none of it would've mattered in the face of knowing they'd finally gotten through to him. he had a smile on his face, he didn't have an arm anymore, and for the first time in his life he met a loss with utter peace and content. it was a thing of miracles after six years of relentless grief and sorrow, and nothing else could've been on their mind.

at the end of the day, team seven's love for sasuke isn't rational. the farthest thing from it, really. but that's what makes it so radical in context. if love in naruto was only ever meant to be rational then hardly anyone would survive. love was always written as an act of defiance and for however subtle the depiction sakura exemplified it

#this is already so long i won't ramble any further in the text bc i've gotten across my point #but tldr you're totally valid! like honestly a lot of sasusaku fans tend to take the full scope of post-canon as gospel and it's infuriatin #and it definitely panders to a lot of gendered stereotypes #the relationship is i think way easier to digest if you isolate 1-699 and then pretend none of the rest exists lol #me personally i want sasuke to go on travels and meet lots of orphans and dedicate himself to humanitarian work #and i want sakura to do her mental hospital thing and research and advocacy at the village #before the projects she works on inevitably extend to intervillage endeavors #it's a nice way for both her and sasuke to explore their respective itches while also doing something that overlaps #with what the other person is doing. i am also a gazillion times more inclined towards them adopting an orphan #than i am towards the idea of them getting traditional married and having a traditional family and birthing traditional babies. boh-ring #i have a post somewhere on my old blog but to Me it would be revolutionary for sasuke to separate himself from the idea that the #only real bonds are those borne in blood. bc all that matters is love. i think adoption would be a really good personification of that idea #also occasionally they can come back to konoha and do silly couple things. like go to the farmers market and plant flowers #and harvest tomatoes. househusband sasuke and workaholic sakura. my dream combination truly #outbox

[gabessquishytum]

This Vacation Romance/Honeymoon Suite one set off fireworks in my heart!!: https://gabessquishytum.tumblr.com/post/732821235748225024/dream-is-the-one-left-at-the-altar-too-much-too

I’m incomprehensibly attached to the Accidental Engagement trope — i.e. one character thinks they’re engaged and the other doesn’t realize. ALSO, I have this whole elaborate headcannon about how the Endless have no idea how marriage works because marriage has been SO many things in the billion years/species/cultures of existence. So like what if…

Dream visits Hob sometime after 2022 while he’s trying to make up for being gone/walking out on Hob & he’s agreed to see what this century has to offer. (And maybe his siblings are leaning on him a bit to actually experience the world a bit more — I mean, he’s the only one of them that has an actual very knowledgeable human guide! What a waste not to take advantage, right?!) So Hob — kind of panicking when Dream shows up asking to go on vacation — books the first available all-inclusive resort package Google serves up, and in a few hours they’re on a plane (because transportation is part of The Experience and sand is cheating). But at the front desk, there’s a problem…

Hob: Welp, they’ve double booked us. Damn Expedia! But good news! They’ve got an extra room after some last minute cancellation. It’s the Honeymoon Suite though, so… ah… *shifts awkwardly while yearning to spend a night in the Honeymoon Suite with Dream*

Dream *very seriously accepting this eternal commitment*: Ah, I see. Yes, Hob Gadling… Yes, I… I think I should like this. 

Hob: You sure? I mean, I wouldn’t want to make you feel…

Dream: I am certain. 

Hob: Really, we don’t have to! *really, really wanting to*

Dream *even more into it after seeing how gentle & caring Hob is being toward Dream’s feelings* : I understand. I accept this proposition, Hob.

As Dream follows Hob solemnly up to the penthouse Honeymoon Suite, he thinks about all the different ways he’s seen dreamers bound in union over the eons. This feels a bit abrupt, but it’s hardly stranger than some of the traditions that have existed. What a lucky chance that he should stumble into this experience with Hob!

(It might be Desire more than chance, but they are definitely not telling.)

As they approach the gilded door at the end of the hallway, Dream shyly takes Hob’s hand. If they are married now (and he saw the woman put their names into the computer, so it is done), then surely he need no longer suppress his feelings, so long as Hob is amenable.

And, yeah, is Hob amenable! He’d only imagined maybe getting a touch, even a lingering glance by the end of the week. But Dream melts into him and — though Hob checks in frequently to make sure Dream’s ok with everything — they spend a long, hot week tangled in the bedsheets, sipping margaritas, and getting up only for room service and bathroom breaks.

Back at home, he expects that that’ll be it for a while. Dream must’ve needed to blow off some steam after his imprisonment. But Dream shows up every day that week. He’s very busy, but he makes sure to pull the finest food out of the most renowned chefs’ dreams; he even packs some away every evening to make sure Hob has something to take to work the next day. He reads or sits quietly while Hob does his marking or lesson planning. Then they gently wash each other in the shower, and then Dream slips under the sheets with Hob. 

It’s so great that Hob is starting to get worried. 

Hob *taking Dream’s hand*: Dove, what is it? I’m not complaining, but are you… alright?

Dream (who has been self-conscious as he is still catching up on what husbands want/are like in 2022): It has been many years since I… since I was in this position. Is this not what you wish from a sworn partner?

Hob *sworn partner?*: I… yes?

Dream: When you asked me to complete the Honeymoon Suite rite, I thought of how I had… disappointed those I was sworn to before. As a husband, I have hardly been as thorough in my responsibilities as I have in other areas of my function. And yet, my heart leapt at the chance to try again — even on the spur of the moment — and our courtship had spanned so many centuries, that it seemed to make sense…

It is as Dream speaks, unravelling several millennia of complex emotions, that Hob realizes he has a spouse. Oh, and that he’s been dating Dream for six hundred years?!

This is so wonderful and delightful and I love the dialogue you've written between them SO much like omg it's so soft. The honeymoon suite rite 😭😭😭

Imagine how gentle Hob is with Dream, even while his heart races and he tries to navigate his brain around the idea of being MARRIED. To DREAM. He's pulling Dream in close to his chest and rubbing his back while quietly freaking out. He's so mad at himself for not knowing that they were courting this whole time! No wonder Dream was mad when Hob called him lonely and started banging on about friendship in 1889! Holy shit!

He should have been showering Dream in love, courting gifts, affection and all of that stuff!!! He has SO much time to make up for, he's so lucky that Dream agreed to marry him when Hob has accidentally been the worst boyfriend ever for 600 years...

Dream peeks up out of Hob’s chest and he's like "am I performing my duties as a 21st century human husband adequately? It is very important to me that you should be happy in our marriage." And Hob nearly hyperventilates (in like a good way) and just pulls Dream closer to convey that a) he is a very satisfied husband and b) he intends to be the best damned spouse that Dream of the Endless has ever had <3

#secondjulia #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[cherrycola27]

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and full smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Mastelist Previous Part Next Part

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Chapter 14: Church

"Yes?" Bradley looks up at you to be sure. Afraid that maybe his ears are playing tricks on him.

"Yes, Bradley. I'll marry you." You assure him. He jumps up from the floor and kisses you. You lean forward and wrap your arms around him. You lose your balance, and both of you tumble to the title in a heap of giggles. Hyrda and Cerberus come to see what is going on, looking at the two of you more confused than anything.

"Wait! I haven't shown you the best part!" Bradley shoots up and darts back to your bedroom. He comes back moments later and reveals that he has already bought a matching band for your ring, and one for himself.

"You already bought bands? What if I had said no?" You ask him.

"I guess we'll never know." He replies with a smirk. "I know we can't have a real wedding, but I thought maybe we could go to Lookout Point, say some vows and exchange rings. If you wanted." He looks at you shyly.

"That would be nice, but, actually—I might have a better idea." You say to him. "What, Angel? I'm all ears." He tells you.

"I never thought I would get married, but even so, I always wanted a traditional wedding. In ancient Greece, weddings were a three day event, and technically, according to ancient customs, we are already married because we live together, but I'd like to have a semi-tradional ceremony. Could we do that?" You look at him sheepishly.

"Absolutely, just tell me what I need to do." Bradley smiles at you.

"Go put on something nice, and get the keys to my Cobra, and leave the rest to me." You tell Bradley. He nods his head and takes off to the bedroom.

Once he's dressed, you grab a scarf and blindfold him. His confused at first, but you assure him that it's in the name of tradition. He can't see you in your wedding attire beforehand. You sit him on the couch before returning to your closet. You go to the back and find the dark garment bag tucked away.

You unzip it and pull out a beautiful black lace dress with long, off the shoulder sleeves. You put it on along with sandals and simple makeup. You don't have a veil, so you find one of your driving scarves that match it the best. You tie it around your hair before going to the kitchen and grabbing a ceramic plate.

Once you have everything you need, you carefully lead Bradley, who is in a black suit with a crisp white shirt to your car.

He spends the entire drive, giddy, and talking to you about how happy he is and how excited he is that you're going to be his wife.

We you turn into Lookout Point, you're thankful that no one else is there. You quickly cast a cloaking charm so that it stays that way. Once you're parked, you help Bradley out of the car and walk with him towards the cliffs.

"Alright. We are here." You say to him. He unties the blind fold and his eyes light up when he sees you. A few tears spring forward, and his breath catches in his throat as he takes sight of you, his bride, his Angel.

"You look—wow." He tells you, unable to find the right words. "Thank you." You tell him with a teary smile.

"I know I told you that I wanted this to be as traditional as possible, and for that to happen, a high priest or priestess has to marry us, so I called in a favor." You tell him.

Moments later, Hecate and Minthe materialize before the two of you.

"Your Grace." Both of them curtsy to you. "Ladies." You acknowledge them warmly.

"My Lady, what a joyous day that it is. And I am honored that you called on me, but—but we are not at an alter of the Gods. Your marriage—it will—it will not be valid in their eyes." Hecate says with concern.

"I've spent too long caring what they think. I do not need them to tell me how to live my life. I love this man, and I intend to take him as a husband. Alter be damned." You tell Hecate. She smiles at you and nods her head.

She and Minthe both look to Bradley, who is beaming at you. "He is a fine man of pure heart." Minthe says. "Yes, yes he is." You affirm.

"Well, then, let us begin. Please join hands." Hecate says as you and Bradley turn to face each other.

Hecate recites marriage verses that have been used since ancient times. Bradley removes your makeshift veil from your hair. Symbolically saying that he takes you to be his forever. The two of you smash the plate you brought to ward off evil spirits and symbolize a new beginning.

Finally, Hecate turns to Minthe. She comes forward, holding a red box with gold stitching. Minthe carefully opens the box, revealing a small obsidian blade with a pearl handle neatly nestled in gold silk.

You could feel Bradley's hands tense in yours as Hecate took the object in her hand.

"Do you trust me?" You asked Bradley. He swallowed and nodded. "Good, give me your palm, and do what I do." You instructed him. Bradley nodded again and stretched out his left palm to face you.

You took the obsidian and made a small cut on his left wrist, not too deep, but enough that there would be a small scar. Drops of his scarlet blood rushed to the surface, and he winced slightly but didn't pull away from you.

You then dipped your fingers in the fresh blood and marked a crimson line from his forehead to the tip of his nose. "Your turn." You told him as you stretched your arm out to him.

Bradley took the blade from you and repeated the action.

Once he was done, you placed the cut he made on your wrist, directly over the one you made on him. "Now say what I say." You told him. He shook his head and before you spoke.

You looked him in the eye and held tightly to his arm before saying, "Eísai aíma apó to aíma mou, kókalo apó to kókkaló mou. Sou díno to sóma mou, na eímaste éna. Sou díno to pnévma mou méchri na teleiósei i zoí mas." Bradley, unsure of exactly what you said, still happily repeated the words after you.

Once you were finished, Hecate blessed your wedding bands before you and Bradley slipped them on. You had experienced many amazing things as a Goddess, but kissing Bradley—your husband, for the first time —was the most amazing of all.

"We are so happy for you, My Lady, and well, My Lord, now." Minthe said as you and Bradley broke apart.

"My Lord?" Bradley asked, highly confused.

"Yes!" You told him. "Minthe, did you bring the other thing I asked for?" You turned to her. "Of course." Minthe replied, producing an object covered with a black silk cloth.

"Perfect." You smiled. "Bradley, kneel." You told him. Still unsure what was happening, Bradley did as you asked and kneeled on the sand. You uncovered the object in Minthe's hands and smiled.

It was just as you imagined it, a crown, fit for a king, your king, your Bradley. It was forged from dark silver, moulded in a perfect circle with seven points around the diameter. Obsidian, rubies, and pearls adorned it, and sculpted into the silver were several beautiful poppies. You picked it up and turned toward Bradley.

"Bradley Alexander Bradshaw. Since I, Hades, Queen of the Underworld, and all its realms have taken you as a husband, and sealed our marriage with a blood oath, I can now bestow upon you a most prestigious honor. By the power of my hand, on this day, I crown you King of the Underworld and all its realms forevermore." You say to him before gingerly placing the crown atop his golden curls.

Bradley looks up at you and smiles. "You may rise, my King." You tell him as you help him to his feet. "Thank you, my Queen." He replies as he leans down to kiss you.

"Well, Your Graces, as much as we would love to say, we must return to the Underworld." Hecate says after a few moments. "I understand. Take these with you. We don't need them right now." You say to her as you had her the crown from your head and Bradley's. "Of course, we will keep them safe until the two of you can join us and wear them on your thrones." Hecate says as she accepts them. Then, just as quickly as Hecate and Minthe appeared, they vanished.

"So I'm King of the Underworld now?" Bradley chuckles. "Yes, but only a consort. I'm the regent. I make the laws. You just sit there and look pretty." You tell him with a smile. Bradley lets out a deep bellied laugh as he takes your hand, and both of you start walking to your car.

"So, I know I told you that I've been working on my Greek, but I didn't understand everything in our vows. Can you tell me what they were?" Bradley asks you.

"Of course." You smile at him. "They said, 'You are blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my body so that we two might be one. I give you my spirit until our lives are done."

"That's beautiful." Bradley breaths out. "And the wrist thing, and this?" Bradley asks as he traces his finger over the blood stain on your face. "In the ancient world, we sealed important promises with a blood oath. What promise is more important than marriage?" You say.

"You're so right, Baby. I can't believe you're mine forever now." Bradley blushes as he pulls you back to him and sweeps you off of your feet. "I was always yours forever, Bradley. I never believed in soulmates until now. But, I believe that we were supposed to find this—us. Even in a different life, you still would have been mine, and I would have been yours." You smile at him as he carries you to your car.

Bradley drives both of you home that evening. And that night, you make love to your husband until you're both too tired and breathless to move.

................

Sunday was a day to be lazy. You and Bradley had nowhere to go, and the only thing on your respective to-do lists was each other.

You wake up before Bradley does. Normally, you're an early riser, never one to be able to fall asleep and stay asleep. But with Bradley, you find more and more how easy it is for you to relax around him and let sleep come to you. More often than not, since you've been together, he's the one who is up before you, very true to his call sign. Though you have a sneaking suspension, his sleeping habits weren't what earned him the name.

You stretch your arms above you, wiggle your fingers and toes, and then turn onto your side. The soft sheets of your bed are loose around your bare skin from last night's activities.

The sun is just peaking through your curtains, casting a golden halo around Bradley. You look over at him. He's sound asleep on his back. Covers low on his hips. He has one hand tucked under the pillow behind him. He left hand is splayed out on his bare chest.

You trace the delicate gold band that live there now, grinning to yourself. You sigh as you admire your husband.

Husband. You husband.

What a beautiful thought. Just as beautiful as Bradley himself. He looks so calm as he sleeps, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. He lets out a small sore every now and then, which he would vehemently deny if you ever brought it up.

You prop yourself up on your elbow and place your hand over his. You smile again as you trace lazy shapes over his tanned skin. Your fingertips grazed over the toned planes of his abdominal muscles through the dusting of hair that covered his chest, permanently bleached from the sun, up to his pectorals and then to his collarbone.

You chuckle as you notice what is nestled right between his clavicles. "Oh, Bradley." You sigh as you trace your hands over the small golden cross that dangled from the chain he always wore. His father had one just like it, and Bradley wore it as a tribute to him.

You laugh to yourself as you push yourself up to place a good morning kiss on his lips. "Good morning, my husband." You breathe out as you kiss his lips, his nose, his forehead, and his cheeks.

"G'morning, my wife," Bradley rasps out, his voice still thick with sleep. He encircles you with his large arms and pulls you flush against him. Be pulls himself to a sitting position and props you up alongside him. "How did you sleep?" He asks you as you lay your head on his shoulder.

"Very well." You reply as you slip your arms around his torso.

You rest your head on his chest as Bradley just holds you there, enjoying the calm, the quiet—the peace that only he can bring. Your eyes are closed as you take a deep breath and inhale the scent of him. You're not sure how he does it, but your husband always smells like sunshine.

When you open your eyes, you are met once again with the sight of that golden cross resting on his tanned skin. You can't help it, but a laugh bubbles out of you. "What's so funny?" Bradley asks you as he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes

"Nothing." You snicker. "It's something. I can tell by that mischievous look in your eye." Bradley presses.

"Fine." You sigh. "I just think it's funny, you knowing what you know about me, that you still wear your cross necklace. Like I get, it's a tribute to your dad and all, but it's just funny." You try to explain to him. Bradley furrows his brows and looks down at you.

"Listen, I know you were probably raised to be a good Christian boy, and you were taught that if you prayed hard enough to God or Jesus or whomever, that you would go to Heaven, well, newsflash, that's not how it works." You say to him.

"What do you mean that's not how it works. Are we all damned to burn in the Underworld?" Bradley asks you.

"No, ugh, the Underworld isn't all flames and screams. It has two parts. Paradise and Purgatory. When you die, your good acts and bad acts are placed on a scale and weighed against each other. From there, I get to decide where you end up." You huff out.

"And all those prayers that people pray about where they want their soul to end up, they come to me. I hear them all—well—I did until I left the Underworld." You sigh.

"So you're telling me that you are the God I prayed to growing up? The one my mom asked to save my soul when I was a wild teenager?" Bradley asks you with a chuckle.

"I know you were expecting someone else, sorry to disappoint." You laugh at him as you sit up and swing your legs over him, the sheets falling loosely to your hips. You grab the thin chain of the gold cross around Bradley's neck, the object that had started the whole conversation, and wrap it around your fingertips.

"Oh, I'm not disappointed by any means." Bradley breathes out as he closes the distance and kisses you. "I just wish I could go back to Saint Greg's and tell my teachers they were wrong." You throw your head back in a breathy laugh. The irony of your husband attending Catholic School as a youth isn't lost on you. You move to kiss him again, but without warning. He flips you off of his lap and drops to the floor. He grabs your ankle and tugs you to the edge of the bed and parts your naked thighs.

"Bradley, what are you doing?" You ask him. You lean up on your elbows to see that your husband is kneeling before you.

"Growing up, I was taught that the best place to worship was on your knees. And, well, I haven't been on my best behavior lately, and it's been years since my last confession, so I came to the alter to repent." Bradley tells you as he leans closer, lips just centimeters from your core.

"Though, I'm not pretty sure this isn't what Father MacKenzie meant when he told me to recite my Hail Marys." Bradley smirks at you before flattening his tongue along your seam.

You throw your head back and gasp as he makes contact with your clit, the feeling sending shockwaves through your system.

Bradley pulls both of your legs over hus shoulders as he feasts on you. That may be a crude way of describing what he is doing, but you can't think of another word to describe it.

His hands find the swells of your ass and grips tightly. pulling you closer to his face as he drinks you in. His nose bumps over your clit with each stroke of his tongue deep into your core.

You grip his curls for dear life and tug at them sharply as suckles on your clit, earning a high pitched whine from you. "Oh Gods!" You cry out as he dines on your cunt like it's a five star meal.

It hurts you to think about the other lovers Bradley had before you, but you sincerely want to thank whichever of them taught him how to do this, because Bradley is particularly attentive when he goes down on you.

You cry out his name again as you feel the band winding tightly in your lower stomach. You're a sopping mess as Bradley licks long, purposeful strokes.

He loves the way you taste, sweet and tangy, like ambrosia on his tongue. From the first moment he tasted you, he knew he would never tire of it. Gluttony may be a sin, but Bradley would glady spend hours on his knees between your thighs if you would let him.

He knows that you're close. He can feel the way your thighs quiver around his head, desperate to close around him and keep his head in place, but he's holding you open.

Bradley takes his thumbs and parts your fold even further, granting him better access to your sensitive bundle of nerves. He takes it between his teeth and rolls it, and that's the final straw.

You cum hard on his face, and he laps up your arousal, drinking in everything you give him. He continues to assault your center, drawing out your high until you're grabbing him by his curls and pulling him away.

You sit up and meet his eyes, one hand still gripping his hair.

You look at him, cheeks flushed, ears tipped pink. His mustache is glistening in the sun, coated with a mixture of your release and his saliva. It's downright erotic the way he looks sitting there in his knees.

Without warning, you surge forward and kiss him, knocking him down to the hardwood floor of your bedroom. Your kiss with him is all teeth and tongue as the two of you grab at each other's flesh, aching to be as close as possible.

You hook your thighs over his, and you can feel just how hard Bradley is. His cock is press right against your ass, dying to be inside you.

"Angel—Angel—" Bradley murmurs against your lips as he pulls back slightly. He takes in the sight of you. Your lips are swollen and slick with spit. Your chest is heaving as you take in air. Your hair is wild, and there is absolutely desperate look of desire in your eyes.

"Bradley—I need you." You state. "Will you have me?" You plead with him. "Yes—yes I'll have you." Bradley assures you.

You waste no time rising up to your knees and gasping his firm length. You guide the head of him until it's perfectly lined up with your dripping center. You sink down on him with ease. You hiss at the stretch once you are full seated around him.

Bradley's hands quickly find your hips to help guide your movements. You start out slowly, barely rising up before dropping back down.

Once you're comfortable with your rhythm, you speed up, lifting almost all the way off of him each time and circling your hips as you do so. Your clit catches against Bradley's pubic bone with each connection, heightening your pleasure.

Bradley groans as he leans up, causing him to shift deeper inside of you.

"Fucking floor is killing my back." He says as he tightens his grip on your waist. "Oh, can you not keep up with me, old man?" You tease him. There is no malice behind your words. "Who are you calling old?" He teases right back. And he isn't wrong, but you still enjoy picking on him, even in moments like this.

You roll your eyes as he hits a particularly deep spot inside you, causing your his to stutter and your breathing to falter. "That's what I thought." Bradley smirks at you as he does the same movement again before leaving forward and taking a nipple in his mouth with a cocky grin.

You rolled your hips faster and pushed your chest against Bradley's warm, welcoming mouth. You sighed. Everything felt amazing, but you still needed more.

One of your hands anchored itself at the back of Bradley's neck. You could feel the cool metal of his golden chain between your fingers. You weren't sure why you were so fascinated by it, but you couldn't help yourself.

Your fingers twisted around it and and you pulled it taught against his throat. Bradley let out a gasp of surprise and pulled off your chest. You both froze. You quickly let go of the chain as you searched Bradley's eyes, afraid you'd gone too far. Neither of you had really discussed your thoughts about choking during sex. You worried that you'd crossed a boundary.

"I'm sorry—I—I don't know what came over me." You apologized as you waited for your husband to say something.

"Do it again." Bradley replied. "What?" You looked at him confused. "Do. It. Again." He punctuated each word with a snap of his hips as he grabbed your hand and returned it to its previous position.

You rolled against him before wrapping the golden metal around your fingers and pulling it again. Bradley growled as you tightened your grip.

"Oh, fuck baby, that's it." Bradley gasped out as the chain dug into his skin.

"You like it when I choke you? Yeah, you do. I can feel your cock trembling inside of me when I do." You moaned out. You let go of his necklace before bringing your hand to wrap around Bradley's throat.

Your thumb and forefinger settled over his airway before pushing him back to the floor with a thud.

You them swatted his hands away from your sides before stilling completely. A needy whine escaped his lips. You leaned down and placed your mouth close to his ear. "Tap my thighs twice if you want me to stop." You breathed out before sitting back up. Bradley nodded in understanding.

You smiled at him before tightening your hand and riding him.

You rode Bradley in earnest, keeping just the right amount of pressure on his throat to make it pleasurable, but also to let him know that you were in charge. He planted his feet on the ground and used that leverage to thrust up into you.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through your bedroom and mixed with the scent of sex that hung thick in the air.

You looked down at Bradley and admired just how fucking pretty he looked under you. "Oh, Love, you have no idea how good you look under me like this." You praised him before letting go and bracing both of your hands on his thighs as you continued to ride him.

While you were telling Bradley how good he looked, he was mesmerized by how ethereal you looked on top of him. He wishes he had a camera to capture how you look right now. Head thrown back, neck arched, and body flushed. You were every bit a Goddess in this moment, and Bradley felt so lucky to see you like this.

He loved watching you use his body, taking from him just as much as you were giving. You were close, and he could tell. One of your hands snaked its way to were the two of you were joined.

You drew tight circles around your neglected nub as Bradley continued to meet your thrusts. He couldn't help it, but his eyes were glued to the sight of you touching yourself.

He felt the beginnings of your second orgasm. Your walls fluttered around him before gripping onto him like a vice as the waves of pleasure cascaded over you with a cry of his name. Bradley only lasted a few more moments before his cum painted your walls white.

You collapsed on his chest. Hot, sweaty, and satisfied. Bradley would have loved to have stayed there with you all day, but he wasn't kidding about the floor killing his back.

After much protest, he got the two of you up and into the shower.

Both of you spent the rest of the day curled up on your couch with Hyrda and Cerberus.

"Angel, what are we going to do about work tomorrow?" Bradley asked you later that evening.

"What do you mean?" You asked him. "I mean, we can't show up with wedding bands. People will ask questions." Bradley explained. There was a beat of silence before you answered him.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it. I've been forging paperwork for centuries. If anyone asked. We eloped over the weekend." You smile at him as you hold up your wedding rings to admire them. Bradley looks at them with you, but he notices something new, just peaking out from under yours.

"What's this?" He asks you as he takes your hand and slides the rings up to reveal a neatly tattooed "B" on your finger.

"Oh." You breathe out. "So, I only tattoo things that are important to me on my body. You're the most important thing to me, Bradley, so I wanted to have one for you." You say shyly.

Bradley sits there speechless with a few tears in his eyes. "When—when did you even have time to get this done?" He asks.

"I can't go to a tattoo shop and get them done. Mortal objects can pierce the skin of Gods. The blade we used at our wedding was a specially forged one. I give myself the tattoos. I just think about what I want and where I want it, and then touch that place and it appears." You tell him.

"Does it hurt?" He asks you. "No, it doesn't. See for yourself." You say as you touch his ribs. Bradley lifts up his shirt, and a neat spray of poppies is now etched on his ribcage.

"Wow." He gasps. "It is pretty cool. Don't worry, I'll take them off." You assure him as you reach forward to touch the area again. But Bradley grabs your hand and stops you.

"No, don't. I want to keep them. And can you—can you put an "H" on my ring finger too?" He asks you. You nod your head, and soon the black ink appears.

..............

On Monday, both you and Bradley head to Maverick's office first thing in the morning. You have your neatly forged wedding documents tucked away in a folder under your arm. Both of you are waiting when Maverick's comes down the hallway with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Oh no." Maverick groans when he sees the two of you.

"Whatever fuckery you have brought to me this morning, can it wait until after I've had my coffee?" Maverick asks the two of you. You and Bradley both shake your heads. "I was afraid not. Come in." Maverick sighs as he opens his door.

He takes a seat behind his desk. You and Bradley sit across from him. You open your mouth to speak, but he puts a hand up to silence you as he takes a long sip from his mug.

"Alright, Bradley, what did you do?" Maverick asks him. "Why do you assume that I did something?" Bradley defends himself. "Because I know you, Kid. I've known you your whole life. You've given me almost every single one of my grey hairs." Maverick says with a matter of fact tone.

"Actually, Captain Mitchell, we did something." You say.

Mav looks from you to Bradley several times before swallowing thickly. He inhales deeply before letting out a sharp breath and standing up.

"Bradley, I made your mother two promises before she died. Two! I failed at the first one, and now, if I have failed at the second one—I— Bradley Alexander Bradshaw, so help me, God! If you have gotten Commander Kolasi pregnant out of wedlock, your mother is going to come back and haunt me. I don't care if you are almost thirty-six. It was the only other thing she asked me!" Maverick rants before flopping back down into his chair and covering his face with his hands.

"Mav, I'm not pregnant." You tell him. "And even if I was, Carole Bradshaw wouldn't come back to haunt you." You tell him. "What do you mean?" Maverick asks as he slowly slides his hands down.

You and Bradley both hold your left hands up as the look on Maverick's face goes from one of horror to surprise.

"You two—you got married? When? Where?" He asks as he leans over his desk.

"Over the weekend. I had a couple of friends who were coming into town, and one of them is ordained. Bradley set everything up. He proposed to me over breakfast Saturday, and we got married at sunset. Here is all the paperwork you will need, as well as an official submission to change my name from Kolasi to Bradshaw." You slide the folder over to Maverick.

"It's that your mom's ring?" Maverick asks Bradley as he takes a look at your hand. "Yes, sir." Bradley nods his head.

Maverick smiles, obviously trying to fight back some tears.

"You did good, Kid. They'd be proud of you." Maverick says as he gets up to hug both of you.

The rest of the squad takes your news very well, and you and Bradley spend the first week of your new lives together as husband and wife in wedded bliss.

All was well in the house of Bradshaw. The two of you didn't seem to have a care in the world when you laid your heads down Friday night after celebrating at the Hard Deck.

What a shame that the two of you didn't realize that the stroke of midnight brought with it the first day of spring.

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#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #tgm #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw smut #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #tgm smut #top gun 2 #top gun rooster #lt. bradley bradshaw #false god #Spotify

[roonilwazlibimagines]

annoying - d.m x female!reader

Blurb: draco will never beat the annoying allegations, because he is annoying, but he is also romantic or the three times draco was annoying but the three times he made it up to her or just like really fluffy draco malfoy stuff

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: I FORGOT TO SAY THAT THIS IS NOT SMUT BUT IT IS VERY SUGGESTIVE AND INVOLVES NUDITY IM SORRY BUT LIKE VERY MUCH 16+

A/N: this started as a list of things i thought draco malfoy would do as a boyfriend but it turned into this and i made them married because they're traditional!! and they would not live together before marriage!! and i wanted them to live together for this!! in hindsight i could have written around it but i wrote this by the pool and it didn't occur to me then!! i will not change it now!!

ps. in my mind this is with potter!daughter but there was no mention of other potters so i didn't force it, but if you would like to read draco x potter!daughter please check this tag or come talk to me about them because i am obsessed with them!

Masterlist

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“I’d say,” she tapped her finger to her lip, noticing the blonde boy hanging on her every word, “annoying,” she said with a confident finality.

“What?” She had to stop the amused expression she would normally wear, trying to convince her astounded husband that she was being serious. “You’re so full of shit.”

She gasped.

“You’re literally proving my point.” He rolled his eyes and manoeuvred his body to grab onto her hips and pull her towards him.

“Take it back.” He was peppering kisses all over her neck making her let out a traitorous giggle. But she refused to deny it.

It had started less than five minutes earlier. It was well past eleven at night and the young, newly wed couple were still in that stage where neither necessarily wanted to sleep, still fascinated with the idea of being married and wondering what differences came with it.

Draco was reading a new book that she had bought because the blurb sounded like something he would like and she was writing something down in her notebook, being extra careful not to get ink in the bed. Again.

When she suddenly put her quill down, a thump eliciting from the force of it landing on the paper, Draco didn’t even finish the sentence he was on before he dogeared the page he was on and put the novel on his lap to look at the pretty girl slouched next to him.

“If you could describe me in one word, what would it be?”

“Beautiful,” he replied without an ounce of hesitation. She rolled her eyes, copying his actions with her own notebook and placing it on the bedside table with the quill that managed to keep its ink where it was meant to be.

“You’re flattering me,” she turned her head back towards, “tell me the truth.”

“I am,” he insisted, also placing his book on his side so he could reposition himself to look at her properly. Her pyjamas were hanging loosely over her body and she had various strands falling out of her ponytail framing her face that was ever so slightly starting to puff up due to the late hour. But Draco was telling the truth.

“Alright, well give me another.”

Draco thought about this one for a second, trying to find a word that suited her but would also appease her interest.

She stared up at him as he hummed to himself. His hair was dishevelled and his t-shirt clung onto his biceps in a way that forced her to focus on the words leaving his pretty lips.

“Strong-willed.”

“Interesting,” she hummed, having a feeling that he was trying to say something to get a reaction out of her. Well, a reaction was what he was going to get.

“Well, if I had to describe you in one word,” she paused noticing how he quirked up slightly at that, “I’d say…” and that was how she ended up being trapped by his arms, victim to his kisses and fingertips digging into the flesh on her sides.

“I’m not annoying, love.” He said, finally loosening his grip on her, but when she made no effort to move he kept his arm draped loosely over her hips, keeping her back pushed against his chest.

“Lies,” she basically hissed the word at him leaving him with a cocky smirk that she had to strain her neck to see.

Because he was annoying.

It was literally just this morning that he had annoyed her.

“Draco,” her voice echoed throughout the house and Draco put down his spoon to yell back, “What?”

He was at the dining table, eating a second breakfast, and he swallowed his cereal as he heard her footsteps thundering down the stairs.

“Did I leave my lip balm down there?” Her voice was slightly less loud as she made her way to him, confident she had left it on the table when they ate breakfast together. Or, Draco’s first breakfast together.

Draco’s eyes didn’t take long to land on the cylinder, stood up right in front of where his pretty wife had been sitting minutes ago. He quickly snatched it into his hand, securing it in his palm before she appeared in front of him.

“Haven’t seen it,” he mumbled, grabbing his spoon in his free hand to shove more cereal in his mouth, hoping it would prevent him from giving himself away.

“Really?” She asked, making her way over to the kitchen, “I could’ve sworn I left it here.” He could hear her moving around various objects and sighing when she gave up and moved to the living room.

“It’s literally just a white cylinder, are you sure you haven’t seen it?” She made her voice louder to reach him from the other room where he could hear her rummaging around the lounge, no doubt seeing if it had fallen into one of the many crevices. Why? He wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been there this morning.

“I know what your lip balm looks like,” he replied moodily. He heard her huff and when he looked back up from his bowl she was standing in front of him. Good to see she could be quiet when she wanted to be.

“You have it.”

“What?” Draco dropped his spoon again, said lip balm burning a hole through his palm.

“You have it.” And within seconds she was directly in front of him. But Draco was quicker and he had risen to his full height, putting his traitorous hand behind him as his chair made a loud scraping noise against their floor.

“Show me your hand.” She moved to grab his hand hiding behind his back but he turned so she couldn’t reach.

“You need to work on your reflexes, babe.”

“You need to stop acting like a child, babe,” she mimicked.

She had her hands folded across her chest, hoping to catch him by surprise when she made to move again.

He was looking down at her with a horrid smirk, her squinted eyes and downward curve of her lips only serving to make it stronger.

“Give it to me,” she whined, suddenly making a move to grab it. Draco had let his guard down ever so slightly, distracted by her pretty face and this time when she went to grab it, her fingers brushed his knuckle.

But Draco needed to make sure she couldn’t reach it so this time, his arm went above his head and he knew it was the right move when she whined once more, “Draco.” She dragged out the last vowel of his name and made a slight movement that looked like her stamping her foot in the ground in annoyance.

“Why are you like this?”

Draco only shrugged his shoulders, making her huff as she brought her arms around her chest once more.

When he didn’t say anything, she continued.

“I’m not going to beg for it.”

“But you sound so pretty when you do.” She scoffed at him and his stupid smirk and his stupid lanky height that meant there was no way for her to reach it without jumping. And even that would be a stretch.

“Draco Malfoy, I swear-“ but she never finished because he got an awful twinkle in his eye when she said his full name and she wasn’t having it. She took a step towards him and reached to the very tip of her toes to try and grab it.

Her hand only reached his wrist.

“You’re such a child.” She groaned, straining to reach even further. Draco brought his head back slightly to look at her determined face trying to and grab the lip balm, still secure in his palm.

She gave up trying to reach and instead wrapped her fingers around his wrist and tried with all her might to drag it down.

She let out a soft groan that made Draco chuckle.

“Maybe if you’d ask nicely I’d give it to you.”

Draco was sure the devil himself had taken the place of his pretty wife with the dirty look he was on the receiving end of.

“Draco,” she said, dropping her hold on his wrist and taking the tiniest of steps back.

“Yes, my love.”

“Can I please have my lip balm?” Her voice was steady and Draco knew that she was fighting her own mind not to scream and shout until she got her way.

“Well, because you asked so nicely.” He dropped his hand, but still put it behind his back as he lent down to press a soft kiss to her pouting lips.

When he pulled back she was giving him an impatient look, her palm out, waiting for him to give it back to her.

Still smirking, he put it in her hand, quickly pulling his hand away when her fingers wrapped around it and she snatched it away. Huffing as she made her way back up the stairs.

“A thank you would be nice,” Draco yelled out, going back to his soggy cereal and chuckling when a string of profanities floated all the way to his ears.

She was quick to remind him of this incident now that they were in bed and Draco still stood by the fact that he was not annoying.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that was annoying,” he argued, with her back still against his chest. She rolled her eyes, grateful that he couldn’t see.

“I would.”

“I was just teasing,” he insisted and she scoffed. “You know I would’ve given it back to you.”

He was partially right, he did like to tease her, but teasing her was annoying.

It was only that weekend that that had gone to a house party with some friends from high school. Everyone was taking advantage of the summer months, and most of them were sitting outside, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon without the sun blaring down on them.

She had been inside for the last hour or so, trying to avoid any red flesh and catching up with some old friends, but when the noticed the guilty star had left the sky, they started to make their way out.

She noticed immediately that there weren’t going to be enough chairs, so she happily made her way over to Draco and sat on his lap.

He was halfway through a conversation with someone and even though he didn’t explicitly acknowledge her presence, he still manoeuvred his body so she could make herself comfortable. And once she stopped wriggling all over him, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

She was happy sitting there, sipping her drink, laughing at whatever her friends said, and enjoying the way the scent of her boyfriend overtook her senses.

Halfway through one of their stories she felt something crawling on her arm and with a quiet groan she twitched in Draco’s lap, flicking the intruder away.

“What’s wrong, lovey?” Draco bent down to whisper in her ear so as not to disrupt the conversation and draw attention to them.

“The bugs are eating me alive,” she huffed, repositioning herself so she was half draped over his lap.

“Can’t blame them,” he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, “you taste so good.”

She gave him an unimpressed look and the edge of his lips quirked up in a familiar smirk before their attentions went back to the conversation.

Every now and then she’d twitch whenever a crawling trespasser appeared on her skin. Each instance followed by a huff and a sigh from the pretty girl resting on Draco’s lap.

Draco was trying his best to defend his girlfriend, removing his hand from her waist to wave it around anytime a bug even dared to look at her and keeping a loose arm around her so she could wriggle and swat away whenever she pleased. But for some reason, the bugs had chosen his pretty girl to annoy tonight, and no one was as in tune with her annoyance as he was.

That’s why he thought what he was about to do was risky. She was already annoyed, but it wasn’t at the hands of him, so he figured he’d do it anyway.

When the conversation had started to die down and people turned to the others around them, starting their own private conversations, Draco turned down to his wife and started a conversation with her.

She was happily chatting away, and Draco was listening intently. He promised. But when she got towards the end of her sentence and took a breath, Draco purposefully furrowed his eyebrows together.

He noticed immediately the increase of diameter of her pretty eyes and the way she froze ever so slightly in his lap.

“What’s that?” He asked, flicking his head up in the direction of her own.

“What’s what?” Her voice had risen an octave and Draco was glad the rest of the group were talking over each other loud enough to drown her out.

“That,” Draco said again, subtly taking his hand away from the valley of her spine. “I think,” he paused and got the desired effect with the look of fright she was giving him, “there’s a,” she was frozen on his lap, “a bug on you.” And as he finished the world’s longest sentence his fingertips found her neck and a tiny squeal left her lips as she contorted her body into his, naive to think she’d find safety with him.

She could feel his whole body shake as he let out a strong laugh, his arms returning around her waist and locking her into his grasp as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I hate you so much.”

Draco could feel her pulse and he almost felt bad for causing her such annoyance, but when she strained her neck to frown at him, a hard crease between her pretty eyes, he couldn’t help the boyish smirk that enveloped his face.

“Liar,” he retorted, not missing the way she clung to him when she thought there was danger.

“I apologised for that,” Draco whined, now in bed. Similarly pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she recalled just how annoying his teasing was.

He did feel bad for it. He didn’t think it would upset her that much. He just wanted to upset her slightly.

“Still annoying,” she grumbled, refusing to look back up at him.

“C’mon,” Draco continued, a tinge of a whine tainting his tone, “you love being teased.”

She rolled her eyes at his poor attempt of a double entendre.

But this time he was telling the truth.

It was only last week when this had occurred.

They had only been married for a couple of months after almost a year of being engaged, but their house was in the works the second Draco proposed to her so they would have somewhere to go when a permanent gold band rested where their fourth finger on their left hand came in contact with the knuckle.

Draco was at her house, going over the plans to ensure she was happy with anything. She was listening. Partly. She trusted Draco.

"Oh," he added as well, knowing that he didn't have her complete attention, "we also have to decide if we want a pool."

"Obviously," she scoffed, knowing by the way that the corner of his mouth tugged upward that he was just trying to get her involved.

Because Draco knew he wanted a pool, and he was glad for it when they woke up to the sun peaking through their window, waking them up and inviting them to join it outside while they played in the pool.

Draco was already in, unbothered by the wait of his pretty wife who took slightly longer to get ready. And the wait was worth it when she came out in a two-piece which Draco really thought was an overstatement considering how little of her was covered.

She swayed her hips on purpose, noticing the slight part in her husband's pretty lips, doing a faux pose when she reached the pool that made Draco clear his throat.

"You look good."

"I know," she beamed at him cheekily, throwing her towel on the chair next to his and tying her hair up in a high bun. "I'm not in the mood to get my hair wet today, I'm too lazy to wash it."

Draco didn't say anything, but she didn't give it a second thought knowing that his eyes were preoccupied.

Draco floated over to the stairs as she made her way in, letting out a little squeal as her feet touched the first step.

"It's so cold!"

"You can't be serious." Draco let out a small chuckle as she placed her weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm very serious, Draco," she whined, finding the courage to go to the next step.

It was up to her calves, and she was going against the water as she kicked her legs out, trying to acclimatise to the new temperature.

Draco, already knowing he consequences of his actions, placed his hands in the water and flicked it over at her.

"Draco!" She had put her hands out in a poor attempt to save herself from his attack and bent a leg up towards herself in some sort of defence.

He laughed.

"Stop being such a baby." She gave him a pout that very much reminded him of a baby.

But she took no note of her husband’s rude comments and instead put her hands in the water to splash him back. 

“C’mon, yours was much bigger than mine.” Draco rolled his eyes, running a hand through his now wet hair and putting his hands back in the water. 

“Draco Malfoy if you dare-”

She was already folding in on herself, but she never felt the splash or got to finish her statement because Draco had cut her off. 

“C’mon darling, I promise I won’t splash you if you just get in.” 

She put her hands down slowly, not sure how much she should trust the blonde haired boy giving her a sly grin. 

“I don’t trust you,” she said, her actions betraying her words as she took another step down. It reached just above her bottom piece and Draco heard her take a sharp breath in as a couple of goosebumps erupted on her lotioned skin. 

One more step to go.

“I promise I won’t splash you.” He had an odd look of sincerity on his face, but she made sure to keep eye contact with him as she placed her hands in the water and brought them to the tops of her shoulders in an attempt to let her body become familiar with the cool liquid.

She went to the next step. She took in a shaky breath, moving on the spot in a hurried motion to try to bring some warmth to her body. 

“One more step, love, c’mon.” Draco opened his arms in an attempt to get her into his embrace. 

“I swear, Draco, if you splash me,” she trailed off, letting her foot fall off the last step and pushing her body towards his arms. 

He grabbed onto her, his hands roaming around her hips as he bent his head down to press a kiss to her pretty lips. 

“Yeah,” he said, pulling away with a slight breathlessness, “you’ll what?” He lent back to kiss her, unashamed, he knew he was in trouble the second he saw her enter the backyard in her little bikini that didn’t leave a lot to his imagination. 

“I-I’ll,” she forced herself to pull away even though she wanted nothing more than to kiss her pretty husband until their skin shrivelled from the water. But Draco had other plans, because when she was looking at him, a soft look in her eyes from the way he had kissed her, he decided this was the perfect time.

His fingers locked around her waist and the last thing he saw was her pretty eyes widen as he pulled her under the water with him.

He knew he’d never hear the end of it the second he brought them to the surface and she let out a couple of dramatic coughs.

“Are you trying to kill me?” She shrieked, blinking the water out of her eyes and pushing his shoulders ever so slightly with the butt of her palm. His arms were still locked around her waist and he had no intention of letting go.

All he did was laugh in response, flicking his blonde hair out of his eyes and leaning down to pepper kisses all over her slimey face. All he could taste was her sunscreen and she kept twisting in his grasp and trying to pull her face away from him, but he continued his attack bravely.

“Hey,” he said, letting out a chuckle despite the grumpy look on her pretty face, “I only promised not to splash you.”

She wanted to scream. Instead, she splashed him back.

“Well, I never promised not to splash you.” She said indignantly in a way that reminded Draco of a child.

“Ah,” he said, much too arrogantly for her taste, “is that how you want to play?” He removed his hands around her waist to splash at her, but even though she knew what was coming, she didn’t step away from him.

“Nuh uh,” she whined, turning her head to avoid the water coming into contact with her face, “you promised you wouldn’t splash me.”

“Well, I take it back.” It was then she decided that she hated Draco’s height. She used to admire it, loved how he towered over almost anyone in any room. But now, she came to realise that his arms were much too long, because before she even got the chance to splash him back he had reached out and grabbed onto her hips, pulling her closer to him and bringing her with him under the water once more.

This time she gave him a good shove on the shoulder while they were under the water, but she wondered if Draco even noticed with the way his hands were squeezing her hips and grabbing at her flesh.

It was only when he brought them to the surface that she realised he was trying to find the string keeping her bikini bottom up and once again, she cursed his long fingers for quickly untying the double knot.

“Draco!” Her hands left his shoulders to grab onto her swimmers before Draco got any other ideas, but Draco was quick and in one swift movement he grabbed both of her hands in his.

She wriggled against him, but movement only made the swimmers pull away from her skin so instead she gave him a defeated look.

He was laughing manically, his chest rumbling at her predicament and the pretty pout that was gracing her pretty lips.

In another swift movement he turned her around so her back was against his chest and her hands were still locked up in Draco’s large hand jail, but the movement was not her friend because with his other free hand, Draco had grabbed the traitorous bottom and thrown it out of the pool, quick to bring it to the front and give her top the same treatment.

He was taking his time, kissing all over her neck, trying to get her to succumb to his pleasures, but she was strong-willed and it was only the way her voice gave a slight tremble at the end of her sentence that gave her away.

“You’re so annoying.”

Draco was now kissing her neck in a similar fashion, but she wasn’t going to give in.

“Thought you liked it then?” He teased, his voice low from the late hour and soft due to their proximity.

“I mean it was alright.” Draco could tell by the slight quiver of her voice and lack of comeback that his little neck kisses were getting to her.

“Do you want to try another word, darling?”

But while the kisses may have softened her, she was still able to respond with, “romantic.”

Because he was.

The only reason she was looking for her lip balm was because he was taking her out for lunch.

And when she came down, all dressed up for him, she twirled on the spot, loving the soft look in his eyes compared to the mischievous twinkle he had worn trying to get a reaction out of her.

They were sitting across from each other and when she rested her hand on the table, Draco took it in his own and neither arm was strong enough to move from its position.

While they waited for the server to come over, she used her free hand to rifle through her bag and when she found the desired lipstick and started putting it on, Draco squinted his eyes at her.

“What?”

“I want to ask you a question.” She gave a seconds pause before putting her lipstick away and facing her pretty husband.

“I’m scared.”

He disregarded her comment and asked, “what’s in your bag?”

“My bag?” She gave him a confused look, losing the warmth of his palm as she grabbed her bag for a second time. The very expensive bag Draco had bought for her only a month or so ago because she had made a trivial comment about how pretty it was when they first walked past it.

She opened it and showed it to him, he was her husband, she had nothing to hide.

Draco liked what he saw. Lipstick, a little mirror, the perfume she usually wore in a small cylindrical glass, and the lip balm he had teased her about this morning.

“What if I forgot the card at home?” he chuckled, his smile only intensifying at the confused look on his pretty girl’s face.

“The credit card?”

“What other card, darling?” The smirk on his face told her he was telling a fib, but she still asked, “did you?”

She never got her response though as the server politely interrupted the conversation, causing her to close her bag back up and listen to Draco repeat what she had told him she wanted from the menu.

The fact that he was ordering told her all she needed to know about the card situation, but she still continued the conversation as if there had been no interruption.

“In all honesty, I stopped bringing money with me after, like, our second month of going out.”

This made Draco let out a laugh that was an inappropriate volume given their surroundings, but the couple didn’t notice.

When Draco calmed down, he put his hand back on the table and she reached out to hold onto it.

“Good,” he said, bringing their intertwined hands towards him to press a row of soft kisses along her knuckles.

When he had frightened her over the bug situation, he kissed and doted on her the rest of the afternoon, feeling bad that he had upset her so greatly.

When her cup was empty he placed her on his seat and went inside to fill it back up for her. Lifting her back onto his lap when he returned.

When they arrived home he had her silk robe waiting for her the second her foot stepped out of the shower and he happily had her sit on the edge of the bathtub as he completed her skincare.

“You know,” she said, giving him the saddest look she could muster, “I was so scared when you pretended there was a bug on me, it really tired me out, I don’t think I can do my skincare.” He let out a large scoff, even though she was still frowning, giving him a faux innocent look with her silk robe wrapped tightly around her.

“C’mere,” he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub but reached out to grab her fingertips, bringing her closer to him so he could sit her on the edge next to him, “you big baby.”

And even after he played with her pretty hair until she fell asleep, he still felt bad. He let out a sigh as he begrudgingly got out of the comfortable bed and once he was outside of their room he called for the house elf and instructed him to get a bunch of her favourite flowers before they woke up.

Draco found that he fell asleep quite easily after he had settled that matter and his arms were wrapped around the waist of his pretty wife.

But he was disgruntled when he woke up hours later to find said pretty wife sitting on the edge of the bed, a small white card in her hand that he assumed belonged to the bunch of her favourite flowers that the house elf had delivered.

He lazily trailed his fingertips down her spine, enjoying the way she jolted at his touch.

“Come back to bed, lovey.” When she put the card down and turned around she found Draco’s arm sprawled out to the side from where he had let it linger on her skin. His eyes were still closed and his hair was sticking on his forehead.

She leant over to smooth it away from his pretty face and when he brought his arm back up she gingerly found her way back to him, his arm coming back down the second he was satisfied she was comfortable.

And it was after they christened the pool that she started to whine about her wet hair.

“I told you I didn’t want to wash it.” Draco wished he had a couple more minutes before her attitude came back, but was quick to remember he was the reason she was in a mood and so he kept that thought to himself.

She was behind him while Draco swam to the edge to receive the two pieces he had meanly thrown out of reach.

“I’m not getting them,” she had scoffed at his reply when she said she needed her swimmers back to which Draco pointed to the edge of the pool where they were sprawled haphazardly. “I’m naked,” she whispered as if it was a sin worse than what had just occurred in their own swimming pool.

“I’ll wash it for you,” he grumbled throwing her swimmers at her. She wasn’t quick enough to grab them so they floated on the surface of the water. She picked up the bottoms and started tying the knots in the appropriate places.

“Really?” She asked, Draco already swimming back to her, picking her top up and redoing the knots he had cruelly untied moments before.

“Of course my love.”

And that was how she found herself sitting in between his legs, warm water filling their bathtub with rose petals tickling her calves and the smoke of a coconut candle making its way into her nose.

She let out a hum as Draco’s fingertips circled her scalp. She let her head fall back so she could look up at him and he was quick to place a quick kiss on her forehead before gently pushing her head up so he could continue his service.

“You spoil me.” Draco liked when she whined and pouted and screeched whenever he found a new way to annoy her, but more than anything he loved the content in her tone knowing that he would always look after her. No matter how much he annoyed her.

“Romantic sounds better,” Draco hummed, leaning down to press some more kisses along her jaw.

But she was brave and she pulled away so she could turn around and face her lovely husband.

She ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in a way that brought a grin to what Draco thought was her precious face.

How lucky she was, really, to have such a beautiful husband. Who, despite his teasing, made sure that she was treated like royalty. Who would never let her worry about a single thing if he had his way and who made sure she knew he loved her, even if he liked to annoy her. Who called her beautiful even when she called him annoying.

“And handsome,” she whispered, bringing her hand to his soft cheek, not missing the way he leaned into her touch, “so handsome.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy blurb #draco malfoy fluff #dm #dmi #dmf #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fluff #harry potter blurb #hp #hp imagine #hp blurb #hp flufff

[twilightcitysky]

My daughter is four. She came home from school and told me she was playing a game called “Princess Gets Rescued From a Tower”. The kid of two feminists, living in a liberal city in a blue state, at the age of four, has internalized the idea that princesses need rescuing. 

I did four years of residency in ObGyn and three years of residency in Psychiatry. I am an MD and a practicing psychiatrist. I don’t have the bandwidth to look at the numbers right now, but I will tell you from personal experience with hundreds and hundreds of patients that women are the strong ones. Most of the babies of teen girls I delivered had no support apart from their own mothers. I wrote “father of baby not involved” in the chart more times than I can count. Most of the pregnancy terminations I performed were for girls and women on their own. Nothing made me feel like I’d made more of a difference than providing a desired termination for a teenager and placing her IUD. Now that girl gets to continue her education, develop her frontal lobe, and decide who she wants to be and what she wants to do. She doesn’t have to be a baby trying to raise a baby. She doesn’t have to be another cog in a system that perpetuates the cycle of poverty in order to keep women and people of color from working towards equality, equity, fairness and real change. 

Make no mistake. The overturning of Roe vs. Wade today is not about saving the lives of the unborn. It is about control of women’s bodies and agency, particularly poor women without the resources to travel out of state for a pregnancy termination. Women are meant to be property. Don’t believe me? How many letters have I received addressed to “Mrs. Husband’s First Name – Husband’s Last Name” instead of “Dr. My First Name – My Last Name”? How many people think my kids have their dad’s last name, because he’s the man and when you get married you’re supposed to give up your identity? Yes, it’s only a name. Yes, it’s tradition. But try speaking up against it— even that one, small thing— and see how much resistance you run into. 

Now women want more than our own names. We want to be paid the same as our male colleagues. We want our voices to be heard in legislation and government. We’d even like to be the president someday. At bare minimum, we’d like to decide the timing and circumstances of when we become parents, because women still carry the majority of responsibility for raising children today, with rare exceptions. We are on a tightrope with no safety net, because there’s so little in the way of institutional support for people who end up with a baby to support and no way to put food on the table. 

People who are thinking about how to get from one day to the next aren’t in the streets protesting. People who are terrified that they’ll be beaten or raped by their partner aren’t rallying for change. People who are trying to raise a child on a minimum wage salary with no parental leave benefits, without any sort of support, aren’t getting an education. People who are working two jobs to keep a roof over their heads aren’t voting. 

And that’s the goal. 

The princess in the tower may need a rescue now, but ask yourself who put her there. Ask yourself who robbed her of the tools to escape, because she’s strong and capable. If you’re a woman, stay safe. If you’re a woman of privilege, help your sisters. If you’re a man, speak up for us. And if there’s any part of you who feels that this is a move that will help any human beings at all, including the unborn children who are the proposed beneficiaries, I cheerfully invite you to get fucked. Nobody wins when women are forced to have kids they can’t or don’t want to support. Not them, not the kids… and not you. 

#roe v wade #roe versus wade #roe vs. wade #current events #news #abortion rights #reproductive rights #reproductive freedom #womens rights #unbelieveable #the backlash is here

[pinkydevil16]

Aemond targaryen x targaryen reader: part 7

Viserys watched his family with a content smile, everyone laughing and enjoying themselves. Even his beloved Rhaenyra and his wife Alicent were smiling at each other, his grandson Jacaerys dancing with his daughter Halaena. Aemond was enjoying himself, Y/n speaking to him as they used to, leaning closer to him but still an appropriate space between them expected of a Lady. Aegon watched them closely, before standing.

"Dear niece will you dance with me?" Y/n smiled standing and taking Aegon's outstretched hand, making eye contact with her mother who gave her a smile. Aegon pulled her close, his hand on her lower back and holding her hand, her chest against his in the closeness although the song was not slow. 

"Uncle don't you believe us to be slightly too close, it is a little inappropriate" Y/n breathed out and moved her face away from his, slightly pulling back as his grip eased. Laughing Aegon simply kept dancing, his hand rubbing up and down her back, each time getting lower when he faced her towards Aemond. Jace quickly took notice and spun Halaena the same way, before switching with Aegon before he could stop him. Smiling down at his sister who instantly broke into a smile and laughed at his brotherly protectiveness. Aemond couldn't help but feel angry as he watched Aegon and then Jace spinning his Y/n around. When a pig was placed in front of him and Lucerys laughed to himself Aemond stood up causing everyone to turn to him. Raising his cup he spoke whilst staring at Jace and Y/n.

"A toast to my nephews, you have shown that you are truly brave and...strong men. And to my Niece you are the most stunning woman in the whole of Westeros." Y/n held Jace back as Aemond made the strong comment, trying to upset her brother. Smiling she bowed and thanked Aemond for his compliment. He smirked before continuing.

"Father, as you want the families to be together once again i have a proposition to bring us all closer. An alliance of sorts." Rharnyra sat up straight, Daemon opening his mouth to stop what he knew would be said however the King was faster. 

"What is your proposal son?" Alicent reached her hand across and grabbed Visery's hand quickly standing stopping Aemond from answering.

"Hearing of the return of Rhaenyra and her children we had been wanting to mend our previous disagreements by the joining of Aemond and Y/n in the traditional manor of our great houses." Y/n turned back towards Aemond who smiled at her, putting his hand out for her to take and join him. 

"That is a wonderful idea Alicent! Rhaenyra do you agree?" The king spoke taking his daughters hand with a smile on his face.

"It is not my place to agree to my daughters hand, it is hers." Rhaenyra said staring at Alicent, Daemon stood before an answer could be given from his daughter. Grabbing her and pulling her towards him.

"You want my daughter to marry a man who has belittled my wifes sons and called them bastards? You insult me brother." Daemon spoke as he pulled Y/n into side and held her close, his dark eyes glaring into Aemond's whose nice facade slowly cracked. 

"I will treat her better than any other man in the kingdom and keep our bloodline pure." Daemon scoffed rolling his eyes and turning to his brother.

"Your son has wanted Y/n since they were children, he has a sick want for her and i will not allow her to be married to him." Viserys stood weakly, bringing Rhaenyra closer to him.

"Daemon our family may be healed, she will be loved and taken care of well. I am only asking out of politeness and respect for my daughter and granddaughter. It is not for you to say on her behalf now, Y/n what is your decision." Everyone turned towards Y/n as she backed out of her fathers grip. Her eyes darting between the people in the room, Alicent smiling softly at her hoping to sway her opinion. Her mother giving her a loving look wanting her to be honest, Daemon scowling demanding with his eyes she reject the proposition. She didn't dare look at Aegon or her brother Jace, Aegon would have too much hunger in his eyes and Jace would show too much betrayal for her to stomach. Her eyes slowly went towards Aemond, his hand still outstretched and silently begging her to be his. Behind his gaze she could see the obsession, the need for her to take his hand and become his. She had felt it all night, the nagging voice from her childhood louder in her head the more she watched him. The slight twitch in his smile at her lack of response, his hand by his side opening and closing as he kept himself composed. 

"I, i would like the night to, um, to sleep on this proposition if possible grandfather, it has been a long day filled with lots of excitement and i feel quite dizzy." Y/n could not come up with a quick enough excuse before she dropped her weight against her brother, only Jace could tell it had been fake by the way she dropped so Lady like. Viserys shouted out her name, concern written on his face, Aemond rushed towards her but Daemon and Jace announced they would take her to her room.

"I apologise for my daughters womanly fall, women's emotions can run so high." Daemon spoke as he lifted her, her eye twitching open to look in his. If Aemond hadn't been so afraid when she fell he would have instantly seen through the mask.

"You truly are my daughter." Daemon whispered as they were out the room.

i did think about being like yay she chooses him, but that's not as fun as a full blown war

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond the kinslayer #daemon targaryen #queen rhaenyra #aegon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon

[drakaripykiros130ac]

RANT: How exactly are the writers biased towards Rhaenyra and the Blacks?

This has just got to stop. Greenies are embarrassing themselves.

On the one hand, they say that Rhaenyra is clearly sooooo bad (for who knows what reason. Disliking her as a person is not a good reason. I can give you a list to touch the floor of crimes committed by the greens this season. Rhaenyra has literally done nothing so far. That’s right, she really is a victim.)

On the other, they say that Rhaenyra is portrayed better by the writers on the show, and it is not fair (boo hoo).

Aha, so you admit that Rhaenyra is clearly better than the greens…you just don’t like the idea. Boo hoo.

So, which is it? Contradictory much?

I seriously believe that the people who support the greens have certain issues in relation to privileged people, such as Rhaenyra.

Guess what? Rhaenyra was born a Princess, she is privileged and that is not her fault. If you are jealous of her, that is your problem.

Getting away with things? What exactly has she gotten away with? Are we beating the same old horse concerning her first three children? Just stop, seriously. Let’s see what you would have done in her situation.

The greens, on the other hand, my God, they outright killed sooooo many people and they have irredeemable assholes in their group. Not to mention that the Hightowers have been plotting to steal the throne from the Targaryens since the beginning. And now I am supposed to feel sorry for usurpers? Did I miss something? They brought it on themselves.

Alicent Hightower, a bitch certain people love to portray as the Virgin Mary, is a hateful and jealous shrew because she is low-born and didn’t have privileges, like Rhaenyra did. Boo hoo! Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. If you want someone to blame, how about your power hungry, manipulative snake of a father? Are we all to start civil wars when we are married to old men who can’t give us an orgasm?

I would have sympathized with her, if she had acted a whole lot differently. She is a low-born young woman who was pushed and also seduced her way in the highest position of power for a woman at the time (queen consort). She should have been thanking the Gods for her undeserved luck. There were many better young women who didn’t have such good fortune. Yea, it was her father who forced her, bla bla bla. Fine. I’ll give her that.

But if I were in her position, I would have acted with dignity and been quiet as a mouse, not intent on causing trouble left and right. Because she doesn’t deserve what was given to her. She never did. She wasn’t a mouse. She decided to abuse her power, as if she has always been entitled to it. She wasn’t. As much as she wants, she will never be Rhaenyra. She spent all her time sticking her nose in Rhaenyra’s business when she should have been teaching her pride and joy not to rape servant girls and act his age. Rhaenyra’s children are just as much Targaryen by blood as the Hightower spawns, but unlike them, they are well-educated and show kindness. That’s because Rhaenyra didn’t give a damn about Alicent’s life and spent her valuable time caring for and educating her children.

So, by putting all cards on the table, this was never about honor and decency for Alicent. She wanted to stick it to Rhaenyra and take away her throne because she is jealous of her, for having love, for having solutions to her problems, for not being stuck in a position she can’t get out of, for having more freedom than her. She should just admit that this is what it’s all about. She was close to admitting it when she snapped and attacked Rhaenyra in episode 7 (showing her true colors).

Hatred and jealousy towards a former friend, whom she screwed over when she started seeing her father behind her back.

Male over female monarch on the Iron Throne is a tradition and followed due to precedent. It is not stipulated in any law!

By royal decree, Jaehaerys named Viserys his heir because the Lords wanted it. He wasn’t forced to listen to them. But he did, because he wanted to avoid upsetting them (the coward).

By royal decree, Viserys named Rhaenyra his heir. A King’s decree is law, even if it doesn’t correspond with tradition. Rhaenyra was set to inherit the throne. It is hers by royal decree. Period!

You know how the situation would have looked like in modern times? Picture this:

Your best friend, whom you have known your entire life, starts to secretly see your rich father behind your back after your mother passes away (I don’t give a damn that it wasn’t her decision. She chooses not to tell you.). Then, your father springs on you that he will marry her. After your father dies, your former-best friend and her gold-digging family take away your inheritance for themselves. Would you still be rooting for them?

Bottom line:

Stop whining about how the writers make Rhaenyra look good. The book is very subjective and inaccurate. GRRM himself said to pay attention to the show, not the book. The show indicates what parts of the book are false and which aren’t.

Also, need I remind you that the greens are given a pass on screen on all the crimes they committed up until now? You don’t see me whining about how unfair that is, because in the book they didn’t kill people “accidentally”.

This is GRRM’s story and he is involved in the production. If he decides that the Blacks are the anti-heroes and the Greens are the anti-villains, that’s just how it is, and no amount of your “critical thinking” is going to change that.

In case you haven’t noticed, GRRM does not treat usurpers too nicely. He wipes out their entire line, because that is a little something called justice.

1. Maegor

2. Aegon II

3. Robert Baratheon

That is exactly what is going to happen to Aegon Hightower and his mother will have a front row seat.

Alicent Hightower is a clear example that hatred and jealousy doesn’t get you far in this world. You need to mind your own damn business and if she and Otto would have done so (and not tried to usurp the throne from the rightful ruling House) they wouldn’t have had such horrific (and totally deserving) fates.

There are no good and bad sides here, sure. However:

The Blacks: anti-heroes

The Greens: anti-villains

So, who you root for is your business but stop trying to make it easier for yourself to root for someone you shouldn’t be rooting for by blaming the writers. It’s your decision. Live with it!

#house of the dragon #anti greens #anti alicent hightower #anti otto hightower #team black #queen rhaenyra #pro team black #anti team green #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd #black queen #viserys targaryen #anti green stans #pro house targaryen #house targaryen #pro rhaenyra #princess rhaenyra #daemon targaryen #anti criston cole #hotd daemon #house of the dragon season 2 #rhaenys the queen who never was #corlys velaryon #aegon iii targaryen #viserys ii targaryen #lucerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon #prince daemon targaryen #anti alicent stans #anti aegon ii targaryen

[interlagosed]

Please expand on the arranged marriage au 👀

like. okay.

everything is the same. after decades of cold war, relations between hiberia and anglosax thaw, and eventually they declare a proper alliance against galla. adam and carlos sr decide to formalize it by arranging a political marriage between the heir-in-obscurity and prince carlos. since it's a political marriage, carlos sr waives his right to actually be introduced to the heir-in-obscurity (he jokes that it wouldn't be the best start to their alliance, to contravene anglosaxon tradition just to look at a child).

in other words: carlos would have married oliver. And THEN oliver gets called to the weave! it doesn't matter too much, since the mantle of heir-of-obscurity passes to lando, and as long as the heir isn't devastatingly younger than prince carlos, they agree it's fine.

so...lando, at the age of 10, finds out he's betrothed. he rises to the challenge of being heir-in-obscurity in every way except this one. he resents carlos, stubbornly refuses to learn anything about him, and that resentment slowly turns into a resentment towards hiberia. he only respects hiberia to the extent that it stands against galla, but no more and no less. carlos doesn't factor into that. carlos is a future inconvenience to be kept at arms length. whenever anyone brings up his betrothal, lando scowls so aggressively that everyone drops it. the only people allowed to talk to him about it are adam and cisca—and even still, they end up sighing with exasperation and telling lando he's going to have to deal with the prince at some point in his life.

and so tsor begins: lando seething at the idea of having to finally meet this man he's hated since he became the heir-in-obscurity, expecting the absolute worst despite what everyone says about carlos. and then, slowly, having all his assumptions dismantled. slowly, slowly, beginning to respect carlos. and then, eventually, realizing the awful truth:

he's in love with his fiancé, his fiancé seems to be in love with him, but his fiancé doesn't know who he really is. and lando is too afraid to do anything about it.

things follow the normal narration of tsor, except that after a kiss at yule that lasts too long, that lando runs away after, they don't pursue the matter further. they both independently decide to focus on the heretic threat. on one excursion (impromptu; they were going on a ride to Talk about things and then accidentally join up with a group of soldiers who claim they're patrolling the coast, but they end up being heretics), they're attacked, and carlos gets horribly injured. there's a reversal of the moment when carlos becomes the rising sun (which he still is here), where lando singlehandedly dispatches all of the ambushers.

lando gets carlos on dawn, which carlos still buys for lando here, and gets him back to the palace. carlos is pale, losing blood, and lando's screaming at him "you're not dying, you're not fucking dying prince carlos, i'll kill you myself!"

carlos only has enough consciousness to laugh at him, and that incenses lando even more. they get back to the palace and lando carries carlos through the palace walls, screaming and barking orders at people. someone tries to take carlos from him and lando snaps at them to back the fuck off. a pretty big crowd has formed at this point. he's told "know your place, squire," and lando wheels around and yells, "i know my place! i am the heir-in-obscurity, and this is my fucking fiancé, and he's not allowed to fucking die, so either you get me a medic, or i tell two kings that you let my fiancé die."

the silence that falls is immense, broken only by carlos wheezing, "you're joking."

"YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP. YOU GET ME A MEDIC. AND YOU GET OUR HORSES SOME SUGAR CUBES."

this spurs action, finally, but lando refuses to be parted from carlos—and when, finally, carlos is fixed up, and when, finally, carlos says to him, "this all could have been avoided if you had learned how to stitch a wound, prince lando," lando takes carlos' hand and sobs over it.

#hibi answers #tsor #tsor arranged marriage au #more on request lmao this is already super long

[rongzhi]

Hi wawa i wanted to ask you your take on this; what is your opinion on people having chinese (or any other "foreign" culture) elements in parties (i.e a wedding)? Like not having any background with the culture but really liking many aspects of it and wanting to implement them in the celebration. And also in your opinion, how could it be carried out respectfully?

Generally speaking, I think people should err on the side of caution when it comes to cultural elements that are not their own.

Of course, it depends on what specific elements are being implemented and how you're presenting the incorporation.

Using your example of a wedding:

I'm of the opinion that if you're a) not Chinese, b) not marrying someone Chinese, and c) didn't grow up in China/surrounded by the culture, you have NO business holding a traditional Chinese wedding ceremony, wearing Chinese wedding attire, or otherwise implementing Chinese aesthetics or practices (for the sake of it being ~Chinese style~ Ooh! Exotic!) into your wedding. That would be a pretty obvious case of cultural appropriation to me. Best case scenario, if you really like all that stuff and want to implement it after a lot of research and personal reflection, you'll just look super goofy from the outside, especially if you're non-Asian.

And just know, no matter how much you research, even if you know more than me (which would not be a trait difficult to achieve), I personally, as a Chinese person, will still think you look like a twit at least 98% of the time.

That said, if it's elements like party/bonding games before the wedding or a having an MC'ed banquet/reception or something structural like that, I think that would be fine because that sort of thing is just a preference of event style. Ultimately it's your wedding (in the example) so if you want to have more games or something, it's up to you and that's not specifically a Chinese element anyway. Likewise, although I can't really think of what other elements you might be talking about, if there is something whose significance you enjoy the meaning of, there's probably a way you can incorporate the idea without just importing it as some Fascinating Chinese Thing™.

-

Lastly, admittedly, I am Chinese diaspora, so my view on these sort of matters is more conservative, which I think tends to be the case of most diaspora. Chinese people living in China typically do not think much of cultural appropriation as long as it ~looks nice~ but unless you're having these hypothetical celebrations IN China, indifference from the motherland does not goddamn matter (imo). Ultimately, you need to take more consideration toward the matter of whether or not the elements you want to incorporate are appropriate to your actual environment and context.

Broadly speaking, if, while you are doing something or thinking about doing something, you have immediate and lingering worries that it's not appropriate or will hurt or offend someone in a foreseeable way, just don't do it. You may not get your personal satisfaction from doing what you wanted to do, but at least your conscience will be clear.

#text #answered ask #long post

[illfoandillfie]

after Javi moves back to Texas, betting your friends that you can get the infamous man’s number at the bar, but getting a lot more

Blurb Advent 2023: Day 10

Another great prompt! Hopefully I've done it justice

Warnings: suggestive themes and talk of sex but nothing explicit, minimal editing.

The first Friday night of the month meant it was girl’s night out. You and your best friends would get dressed up, head out, and drink and dance until the early hours of the morning. In the past you’d all used it as a chance to find hook ups but things had changed a little since both Katrina and Larissa had actually met guys worth dating. It left you as the only single one but they both acted as your wingwomen, helping you pick out the best of the club goers to flirt with. But, tradition stated that the night should always begin at a small local bar, a little on the seedy side but not too gross. It catered to a different clientele than the clubs you’d head to later so it was rare to meet anyone there who you might want to pick up, but the drinks were reasonably priced and you could get a plate of fries or wings if you wanted to fill up a little. If you were lucky there’d be one or two men you could make eyes at across the room or convince to buy you a drink, help you get into the groove of flirting and give you a little confidence injection before you moved onto the big leagues. But it wasn’t often you were lucky.  

“No hotties here tonight,” you sighed, reaching for your quarter full glass.   “Hey that one guy who offered to buy you a drink was kind of cute,”  “You just think that cause he’s your boyfriend’s twin.”  There was laughter round the table as Katrina nodded guiltily.  “Don’t worry Y/N, we’ll get you laid. Although I still think you should give that guy you work with a chance.”  “Ugh no, too awkward. I want to meet someone the old fashioned way – grinding on them to club music and only learning their name aftrer we’ve fucked.”  You all laughed again and fell into a conversation about where you’d head once you’d finished your drinks. But you quickly stopped listening. Your eyes had been drawn to the door as someone new arrived. He headed straight for the bar and you watched him sit down and order, a bottle of beer placed in front of him.  “Well hold on girls, things might have just changed.” You nodded towards the man who was looking around the place. You got the impression he was new to the area.   “Isn’t that that Peña guy?” Katrina said, shooting a look at Larissa.  “No way, Javier Peña? is he back?”  “Yeah arrived a couple of weeks ago, doesn’t look like he has any plans to leave from what I’ve heard.”  You had no idea who Javier Peña was, but you did know he was hot.   “You can do better,” Katrina said with a shake of her head, her disapproval evident.   You looked over to the bar again, “I bet his moustache would feel good between my thighs.”  Larissa laughed and Katrina shot her a look.   “He’s a dick Y/N. Everyone says so.”  “Yeah,” Larissa added reluctantly, “Apparently he’s a total womanizer.”  “I don’t mind if he wants to womanize me for a night.” At the look Katrina gave you, you snorted and added, “Am I the only one with eyes here? He’s fucking hot.”  “He left someone at the alter.”  “Do I look like I want to get married?”  “I heard he’s been with hundreds of women, and half of them he paid.”  “That sounds like an exaggeration,” you rolled your eyes, “But even if it’s true, a hundred women can’t be wrong.”  “No way, you cannot be into him still,” Katrina laughed, “He’s totally infamous for being a man slut.”  “Stop selling him I’m already interested,” you laughed, waving aside her arguments. 

“Can you help me out here?” Katrina shot at Larissa who’s spent most of the back and forth laughing and egging you each on.   “Oh sure,” she turned to you, “What makes you think you could even pull him?”  “Excuse me?”  “Don’t encourage her,” Katrina pleaded.  “You heard me.”  “Um, bitch! Have you seen me?”  “Why don’t we finish up here and find a club instead?”  “Oh stop worrying, Trina. He sounds like the harmless sort of sleaze.”  “No one’s leaving. Except me. I’m gonna go to that bar and get his number.”  “I don’t think you will but good luck.”  “Alright lets make this interesting.”  “Seriously guys?” Katrina threw up her hands in exasperation.  “I like the way you think Y/N. Alright, loser has to buy the winner’s drinks for the rest of the night.”  “You’re so on.”  Katrina just sighed. 

When you got to the bar you stood close to where Javier was, pushed yourself up on your toes and leaned on the counter to order a new drink. You hoped it would draw attention to the short length of your dress. And it paid off because out of the corner of your eye you saw him turn to look at your ass before he slid some money across the bar and announced your drink was on him.   You smiled sweetly, “Thank you, that’s awful kind. Are you new around here? Don’t think I’ve seen youround before.”  “Not new. But it’s been a while.”  You were pleased you had an in and began making polite chit chat finding out he’d been in Colombia, asking if it was as nice as everyone said.   After about a minute he stopped you, “We don’t have to play this game.”  “Umm, what game?”  “I know I have a certain reputation around these parts. The way I left, of course I do. But let’s just call a spade a spade. You wanna come back to mine?”  You were entirely taken aback. His forwardness was not at all what you’d expected, nothing like what you were used to. But he was right, that’s what you wanted. You would have settled for his number to win your bet but the minute he’d walked in you’d wanted more.   “Well?”  “Give me a minute to tell my friend’s I’m leaving and then I’m yours.”

#my writing #my blurbs #blurb advent 2023 #javier pena x reader #javi pena imagine #gonna go ahead and apologise skfksjfkfjf idk that i really wrote javi particularly well/in character #like maybe he comes off a little more jack 🤷‍♀️ #idk its been a hot minute since i watched narcos or read any javo fics

[lesless]

Some thoughts on marriage

Growing up I never really understood the idea of marriage. My mom had me at 16 or somewhere near that, & was only married briefly as a result of being pregnant with me & having a less than ideal home life, which she wanted to get out of. My dad has been married or engaged 5 or more times, though now he’s old enough not to lure in underaged girls or young women & is now happily married to a woman who I really like. My great grandparents, who I grew up with, were married over 50 years, & though they bickered I understood that they had committed to each other & my great grandpa took care of my great grandmother through her senility, hiding it until it was noticeable to all.

So, I have mixed views on the topic. On one hand, it seems insane to me to enter into a legal contract for a relationship especially considering I’m not religious in the traditional sense. On the other, I find it incredibly romantic & a statement of devotion.

I my early 20’s the only person I remember breaking up with me (who really just beat me to it, bc I was unhappy & didn’t want to be with him really) told me that the reason he didn’t want to be with me is that he “couldn’t imagine marrying” me, which to me felt stupid & I was fine with at the time (& still am, he was a mess). When I met someone I was infatuated with, he talked about how he was “going to marry that girl” in reference to the last girl he dated, during the first 6 months we were together, which really bothered me. They were together for a year or less as far as I can gather. He later admitted it was because her family had a lot of connections in the film industry, which made me feel a little disgusted by his intentions of marriage if I’m being honest.

Personally, I’ve driven hard lines in the ground with people I’ve dated. Either I’m with you or not, & with you means I’m in 100%. I’m not going to leave unless there’s some seriously extenuating circumstances, such as, my last partner had a serious alcohol problem & got really scary & mean before I decided it was safer for me to leave than stay with them.

Nowadays, I’m with someone I adore & I feel adores me back. We have been together 5 years in a few weeks, which will mark the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. Simultaneously, our family is mentioning marriage (& have been for years).

& im at this crossroads. I think both of us have some doubt about the whole concept of marriage, our families respectively having a long history of divorce & the mess that entails. But also, is that something I actually want? I’m not sure.

By now I did imagine myself with kids of my own, though I love my freedom & ability to do what I want. Marriage feels like the end of that freedom to a certain extent, but also feels like the agreement on a future, & security. We haven’t talked about it, truly. Sometimes I think my partner is working towards a more secure future for us before that, & every time he talks about the future he says US, which is also reassuring.

If he asked I would say yes, but as time rolls on & my experiences & friends get hitched after only a year or two, I do wonder if I’m just not the kind of person someone would want to marry, as that long buried ex said. Or, are people just stupid & rushing into things? Are people just agreeing to things based on their circumstances & ideology? The people I know who have gotten married, largely, also became very institutionally religious. Which, good for them, but that’s not where I am.

I suppose I’m curious what readers think of marriage. What are the criteria? What is the deciding factor? Do you just know?

I’ve also known people happily not married with children in 10+ year relationships. I suppose theres no universal right answer to any of this. Just something I’m pondering after some deeply itchy nightmares.

#me

[unohanabbygirl]

Okay but that anon was onto something with that fmbh au. Luke announcing to court “I am no maid and so I must marry one.” Thinking he’s forcing Viserys and the courts hand at breaking the betrothal because he must now marry a woman (ie Rhaena). Only to have Otto and Alicent conspire otherwise. This au would be so angsty because Aemond would be forced to reconcile with seeing his grandfather and mother commodify his body the same way they were about to use Luke’s. This au being even spicier because it’s got more f&b Alicent which means her evil stepmother vibes will all be directed towards Aemond instead of Luke when a child is still not produced from their union. I’ve seen a lot of fics where Luke has been on the receiving end of Alicent’s anger and misogyny, but to see Aemond experience it after being told his whole life to be masculine and hide his body. Being told that it was unnatural and that the Hightowers were the morally upright stock compared to the blacks, only for one court session to see his family change gears and tell him to wear a dress and spread his legs. This au would be really interesting because I think while Aemond and Luke would still hold a lot of anger for each other, Aemond wouldn’t have his family to support him when he bitches about Luke. Instead, it would be necessary for his well being to stay at Driftmark with Luke because Luke doesn’t say shit when Aemond dresses with masculine presenting clothing. His only safe space is with the person whose actions lead to this situation in the first place (and in an usual Aemond style he refuses to realize that his treatment of Luke is what lead to Luke being desperate enough to announce he wasn’t a virgin). And of course Aemond would refuse to have any sex other than being on the bottom because his fear of failure is so ingrained in his personality. He’s so starkly confronted with the fact that it was never about morals for his family when it came to Rhaenyra and her ilk, it was about power and whatever route got them to the throne, including whatever way to use his body was most convenient to get Hightower green on the Velaryon sigil.

I love this idea sm because it forces Aemond to reconcile with how disastrous and downright gross and degrading his mother’s actions in her and Otto’s pursuit of power is. He’s always seen her logic as morally right and a no brainer in a sense that duty needs to be done regardless. However it’s very easy for him to feel that way since he’s not the one being forced to give over his body in such a life changing way by acting as nothing more than a walking womb with constant expectations of birthing male heirs, or at least in this instance heirs that will grow to fit in with Westeros idea of traditional masculinity in both looks and self-expression. Even with Helaena, though he sympathizes with her for the way Aegon treats her and the children he can see why the marriage and her having those children so young was “necessary” Actually being put into a position where he’s the one being made to pursue that role would flip his idea of everything, including his mother upside down.

Alicent knows how much Aemond values his masculinity, loves the thrill of fighting and pushes away from anything having to do with his biology. It’s so bad that she didn’t even know he got his first period until years after it first began, and even when she found out Alicent didn’t acknowledge it. Just tellings Measter’s to make sure they kept up with administering the tea for his pain before retreating back into her little bubble. So for her to do a complete 180 and starting telling him of how to go about pleasing Lucerys so that he’ll give him a child, talking about his moon blood, urging him into dresses, barring him from swords and striping Aemond of everything that makes him who he is while attempting to create a proper bride who Luke will lust over is enough to stunt him into a panic attack.

Suddenly his mother is telling him ways to act docile and feminine, more of an order than a suggestion at that. Snapping at him when he attempts to wear breeches and quickly angers whenever he hesitates to fall in line. Even Cole acts differently around him when just yesterday he was treated no differently from any other respected man. Finally coming to see how awful this box women have been forced into since day one truly is. Can finally see everything they’ve put Rhaenyra through isn’t because shes a spoiled whore but for being a woman who dared lived as she pleased in what few ways she could. And now he’s being treated the same. Now he’s the one who’s hearing whispers that something’s either wrong with him or his womb since Lucerys hasn’t put a babe in him yet.

His body is being treated as property. Something to be used no different from how he would’ve used Luke’s own in the name of the very duty which is destroying him brick by brick.

I feel that Luke’s company and living on Driftmark overall which used to be a place filled with so much trauma becomes his own safe haven is so life changing. Luke doesn’t care if he trains or wears masculine clothes whereas his own mother and grandfather do. Luke doesn’t bother him by asking for sex (Aemond’s actually the one who tries to initiate as Otto’s demands are playing on that fear of failing) Luke doesn’t just treat him like a man but as an actual person rather than something he owns, better than his own family. A true nightmare come to life.

But the hard part about this is that he can’t see why Luke sees him the way he does. Too blind to understand that how he likely would’ve treated Luke is why he’s now in this position at all. After all, Luke revealed he wasn’t a virgin for shits and giggles, but as a way to avoid a pain filled future.

#asks

[myst867]

Drabble | Omegaverse | Harmony | NSFW

\*\*\*NSFW as it moves towards the end- a series of interrelated drabbles from Twitter Prompts\*\*

McGonagall looked, if possible, even more uncomfortable than Hermione as they sat facing each other in the Headmistress’ office.

“Let me get this straight. Harry is not going to be starting as an Auror because through standard entrance testing, the Ministry has determined he’s a what?”

McGonagall cleared her throat. “The Wizarding World calls them Alphas. It's considered quite a boon to magical families as it usually means they’re going to have many children… Which, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, is usually quite a problem in wizarding families…”

Hermione waved that away impatiently. “Yes, I actually thought that was due to an unfortunate penchant for inbreeding. And so what this means for me…”

“When an Alpha is identified, we have rituals which determine his Omega. They are usually born within a few years of each other… and well, according to the Ministry… it's you.”

“Impossible. We’re friends! I mean, Harry has always had a very predictable crush on Ginny Weasley.” Hermione muttered a little more quietly to herself. “A quidditch player, of course.”

“Well, that's all nice and well, but there’s no escaping this type of magical bond. The Weasleys are a very old wizarding family. Once they hear what has occurred, I have no doubt they will encourage you two to obey your magical destiny. Many would consider you married, or at the very least, in an unbreakable engagement.”

Hermione’s hands fisted in her lap. “Look, with all due respect, Professor, I am completely over the idea of any sort of magical destiny influencing my life and I am certain Harry will agree.”

With an almost wince, McGonagall interjected. “Miss Granger, it's always been traditional for Omega’s refer to their counterparts as Alpha, it's a title of respect as one would use Professor or Lord. In fact, when he arrives for his eighth year, the staff will address him as Alpha Potter.”

“You cannot be serious. I am NOT. Under any circumstances, referring to Harry James Potter as Alpha!"

━━━━━━☆ﾟ.\*･｡ﾟﾟ.\*･｡ﾟﾟ.\*･｡ﾟﾟ.\*･｡ﾟﾟ.\*･｡ﾟﾟ.\*･｡ﾟ☆━━━━━━

Intellectual curiosity fought with desire as Hermione stared at her best friend. The alpha hormones had caused changes in her friend's body. He was more muscular, his shoulders wider...his hands...

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

They stood awkwardly on either side of the repaired bridge outside of Hogwarts, both a little afraid to get closer to the other.

"So for you.... what does it feel like?"

She saw the subtle flexing of his arms, as if he was digging his fingers into the rail behind him. His voice when he spoke was deeper, huskier. It seemed to vibrate all her nerve endings.

"It feels like..." He paused, swallowing, and she watched his throat work as his Adam's apple bobbed. How could a throat be sexy? His eyes, which had been looking everywhere but at her, suddenly met hers.

The heat of his gaze was intense, almost like a physical touch. "It feels like...you're magnetic." His hands released the rail behind him and he took a step towards her. "It's impossible to stay away from you when I see you..."

He was barely an arm's length away. They both took a deep breath. She loved the way he smelled.

"I love the way you smell." He whispered as if reading her mind, his hands reaching for her. He drew her slowly close until they were flush against one another.

Harry so close... the heat of his body...his hands around her....

She could feel her panties getting wet, her body getting ready for him, and he breathed deep again, a low growl vibrating between them. "We shouldn't have gotten so close, Harry."

He nuzzled the side of her face, his head dipping low so his lips were against the curve of her neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" His hands had lowered and as he spoke he cupped her ass, lifting her slightly so she was pressed against his hard cock through their clothes.She wrapped her arms around his neck, struggling with her answer.

"Maybe I'm a magnet for you, too." He said. His hands were now under her robe and she felt the hot press of his bare hands against her ass.She couldn't speak, shuddering, feeling his hands flex on her ass.

"Hermione....." he drew out her name as his hands wandered under her robes. His head moved higher, his lips against her ear. "Tell me you want this as much as me. Tell me you want to be under me, taking me."

She moaned as he caressed her and nodded impatiently. "Yes, please."

Harry maneuvered her, so she was pressed between him and the rail. He slid his hand along her thigh, urging her leg up around his waist, the other still on the ground spreading her open for him. He ground against her, the pressure and rough feel of their clothes against her wet pussy electric.

"Yes, what?" His voice was demanding.

She could barely choke it out. The sensations overwhelming her. His heat. His hands. Her lust glazed eyes met his.

"Yes Alpha."

━━━━━━☆ﾟ.\*･｡ﾟﾟ.\*･｡ﾟﾟ.\*･｡ﾟﾟ.\*･｡ﾟﾟ.\*･｡ﾟﾟ.\*･｡ﾟ☆━━━━━━

A thump echoed through the room as Harry yanked on the ties on his wrists, causing the leg of the bed to partially lift.

The bonds on his hands and feet had been reinforced with strengthening charms to make sure he wouldn't break them.

And he really fucking wanted to break them. It had made sense when a worried Hermione had talked him into getting tied down. Talked him into letting her charm the bindings. But neither of them had realized exactly how hard the heat hormones would hit Hermione.

His best friend watched him with dazed eyes as she rubbed herself against him, her wet pussy sliding along his thick cock.

His heart was pounding in his chest and his muscles in his arms and abdomen flexed as he fought for control.

Hermione purred at the feel, her hands gliding up his chest. "My Alpha."

"Untie me. Now."

It had only taken one look from those anxious brown eyed and he had given in. Next time, he was tying her down.

They had both been a bit worried about his reaction as her Alpha during her first heat. What else could he do for his best friend and the love of his life?

How the fuck was he supposed to know that the omega hormones would basically drive her to rotate between sucking or rubbing her pussy against his cock FOR FUCKING HOURS?

His voice was hoarse and guttural as he tried again. "Hermione. Baby. Omega. Untie me."

Her head jerked up from where she had been licking at him with a whimper, crawling forward up his body. He shuddered at the feel of her hard nipples against his chest.

Her little nails dug into his shoulders as she pressed her lips to his, her tongue licking at his lips.

"I'm going to break this fucking bed, Hermione, and then I'm going to knot your little pussy." He promised against her lips.

She shuddered. "Yes, please Alpha.

#hp harmony #harmione #harmony #harry and hermione #harry x hermione #harry potter #harry james potter #hermione granger #hermione x harry #microfiction #microfic #hp microfic #drabble

[wordsandrobots]

I’m sitting here wondering what it says about me that the first time I’ve really engaged with romance/slash-fic (in the sense of making it the backbone of a massively long series of stories), I chose to skip the build-up entirely. You know, the will they/won’t they, comedic misunderstandings, drawn-out pining and so forth. Pretty much skipped any actual dating too (I have in fact repeatedly made characters unsure if what they’re doing *is* dating) and plunged straight into ‘navigating crises and complex emotions while being in a relationship’.

Part of it, I suppose, is that in this particular slash pairing, the pining etc already takes up the bulk of the canon interactions. Yamagi’s character beats in Iron-Blooded Orphans revolve around him falling for Shino like a dropped rock and Shino taking forever to notice. Coming into that afterwards means the groundwork is already done and I can get straight to their various issues causing ructions and lots of extremely enthusiastic sex (read this sentence however you like; it’ll still be correct).

But even so. I think I’ve always tended towards skipping a lot of the ‘standard’ preparatory work for romance. In my Fullmetal Alchemist fics, my mental label for how I wrote Ed and Winry getting together was ‘like an exhausted sigh’. Bear in mind this was based on the 2003 anime; I came at it from the idea of this being two people who cared about one another, had been through the wringer, and who never expected to see each other again. When they finally got the space to click, they simply did. I didn’t end up writing much emotional drama between them because I honestly did not see much room for it (again, bear in mind 2003!Ed ends up significantly more dour in temperament than his Manga counterpart).

There’s also Mustang and Hawkeye, who I am incapable of writing actually ‘getting together’ because the alternative is far more interesting. Their relationship wasn’t pining so much as expressing itself entirely in the dance of their professional lives. I think I wrote them as essentially married already and while those fics do start with a very atypical bout of Hawkeye getting pissed-off enough to sock Mustang on the nose, what I found most interesting to write was how in-sync they were, how much trust they placed in each other.

And I don’t know if that means I don’t care for the build-up in romantic stories, if I don’t consider it important, or if I simply don’t have enough real-life experience of ‘normal’ attraction/dating etc to think I can convincingly write it. I certainly don’t seem especially drawn to exploring it. I am drawn to writing different ways in which people can interact around sex and relationships. Wishing On Space Hardware is low-key an effort to see exactly how queer I can make one of my stories within the handicap of my very plot-focused approach (I cannot control my reflex to weave together dangling threads into new patterns. Like, at all).

It simply occurred to me that I’ve never really cared to focus on long, drawn-out crushes in my writing. Either I focus on established relationships or I skip to the part I enjoy, which is how two or more people interact within the boundaries of ‘being together’. Mostly this occurred to me because I’ve just finished drafting a fic that focuses on two characters I do in fact show getting together, only it’s in the sense of a casual relationship growing into something stronger. It’s very much not the . . . traditional route, so to speak (and I don’t just mean because of the polyamory).

I don’t disdain the traditional approach at all. I’ve enjoyed it immensely in all shades and stripes. This isn’t me saying ‘I don’t write it cos it’s bad’. I just started dwelling on my utter lack of desire to write it in the first place and wondered what that meant. Quite possibly, it simply means I am old and don’t feel like I have much to say about an approach usually applied to teenagers. But I didn’t feel like writing it much when I was younger, either, so . . . yeah.

I don’t know.

#fanfic #My fic #writing #character writing

[ddagent]

If you're still accepting prompts,

I'm dying to see that idea you had where John is super anxious about meeting Delenn's parents.

John/Delenn Summer Promptathon | Read at AO3

As he paced the length of the empty arrivals gate, John Sheridan couldn’t help the stew of nerves simmering inside of him. He’d led fleets into battle, declared independence from his own government; hell, he’d faced down a Minbari war cruiser. And, yet, he felt like he was going to be sick. All because he was meeting Delenn’s parents for the first time.

Sitting patiently on one of the hard plastic seats, his fiancée was the picture of serenity. “John,” she soothed, her hand catching his sleeve on his eleventh pass across the gate. “If you do not stop, your legs will go straight through the bulkhead.”

“I know.” He stilled – for all of five seconds. Then his hands were pulling at his jacket sleeves, running through his hair. Delenn had to physically stand and take his hands, pressing them firmly against her hips, for him to actually stop. But even then, John’s hands did not remain motionless for long. They cradled his fiancée against his torso, one hand lifting from her waist to lift her chin closer to his mouth. “We should probably stop. I don’t want your parents to get the wrong impression.”

Delenn chuckled. “I am carrying your child, John Sheridan. I think they have all the impression they need.”

At that reminder, John immediately pulled away and began pacing. What the hell were Delenn’s parents going to think of him? Probably some crude Human caveman who couldn’t wait until they were married – as per Minbari tradition – to have sex. But it was the end of the Shadow War and between Z’ha’dum and the engagement ring, they had fallen into bed as easily as they had done everything else together. Shortly after her trip back to Minbar, Delenn had discovered she was pregnant. Both of them had been ecstatic: they wanted a home, a family. But in their jubilation, John hadn’t considered the cardinal sin of knocking up one of the most eminent leaders of the Minbari Religious Caste.

“They’re here.”

Well, here goes nothing. John crossed the arrivals gate to instantly stand beside Delenn, struggling to place his hands until his fiancée yanked his arm possessively around her waist. His thumb brushed the first hint of a bump – their child – that would make it clear to those who knew Delenn well that she was expecting. John wasn’t sure whether her parents figured into that category yet. Both had seen Delenn during her recent visit to Minbar but she had not gone into any details other than it was good to see them both again.

And suddenly there was a male Minbari, about as tall as John; stick-thin with wire framed glasses upon his nose. He waved eagerly at the pair of them, before crossing the arrivals gate with a quickened pace. Immediately, he gathered Delenn up into his arms. “You’re looking well, Te’fi.” Delenn’s father, Derimer, greeted. He then looked towards John and thrust out his hand. “You must be John!”

“Yes, sir.” Derimer’s grip was firm, but not unpleasant, as he shook John’s hand so vigorously, he thought he was about to have it torn off. “Delenn’s told me a lot about you; it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And yours, John. Now, my daughter tells me that you have an interest in Earth history.” Derimer adjusted the glasses upon his nose. “So do I. I’ve been fascinated by your people since Delenn first started investigating you for the Grey Council. I have a thousand and one questions for you.” John chuckled until he caught sight of Delenn’s look and realised her father was not kidding. “Now, where do I want to start. What do you know about dinosaurs, John?”

Before John could describe the plot to Jurassic Park, Delenn’s mother arrived. She had her daughter’s regal bearing, her miss-nothing eyes. Her head inclined in favour of both John, Delenn, and her husband. “Thank you for meeting us both. It is good to see you again, Delenn, and to meet you, John. Our daughter has written often of you.”

Beside him, Delenn flushed. John just grinned but tried not to act too cocky, knowing there was a stack of letters back on Earth that described, in vivid detail, just how amazing Delenn was. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you both as well. Delenn’s told me that you are with the Sisters of Valeria. Were they okay with giving you some time away?”

Madrenn simply nodded. “They were. Of course, it helped that I told them that if I did not get to see my daughter and her new family, I would reveal certain secrets that the Sisters have kept secret for a thousand years. They quickly understood.” Delenn slid her arm around her mother’s, and the pair led the charge. “Shall we go?”

Derimer simply patted John on the shoulder as they hustled to catch up. For some reason, that stew of nerves had just hit the boil. Thank God Delenn is on my side.

#john x delenn #babylon 5 #dd: fanfic #dd: prompts #ship: john x delenn #so I have lots of thoughts about how delenn's mother has been portrayed in fanfic #and it's clear from canon that Delenn does love and miss her mother #so I've created Madrenn with this notion that she has a duty but she also misses her daughter and husband terribly #and Delenn's father is just the Minbari version of Arthur Weasley

[artemisia-black]

does Sirius have a type? I’m curious because one could read his pull towards Aeliana as one that is - sorta digging into his hurt regarding his mother. I’ve read it somewhere- the idea I think is that if a guy who has had a bad past with their mother goes after someone who has key similarities to their mother (not identical, just key ones), that if they’re successful in getting underneath the surface, it’s like them saying ‘you’re wrong I can be loved for who I am’ because because he “won” (1)

2) the affection of said girl in question? Also the idea of “fixing” his relationship with his mother through girl with key similarities to her by proxy. Though the only similarity it seems Aeliana has witb Walburga is that she’s haughty. But that’s a pretty key trait Imo. (Just contemplating theories here! 😊)

OMG OMG ANON, thank you so much for this question, I have been dying to ramble about this, because Sirius’s complex relationship to his background/family really interplays with his relationship with Aeliana (and it is why she is in both my WIPs). And while I hope I’ve written her as a female character that doesn’t just exist to serve the male, she is a mirror to Sirius’s shadow self and the parts of himself he denies. 

So when I first sat down to write Pietas I decided several key things:

Leaving home wasn’t a decision he made lightly- as I’ve talked about before, Sirius is deeply wounded by his family - to the point where he’s still bitter about Regulus being the ‘much better son,’ despite Reg being dead and Sirius having endured Azkaban.

He is far more of a Black than he’d ever admit - I think I’ve said this to death, but the language he uses to dehumanise Peter, echoes Walburga (I have a whole meta pending about Sirius and unacknowledged privilege).  

I think Walburga’s portrait is a caricature of a woman in the midst of grief, that over emphasizes her worst traits. Although I don’t think she was a ‘nice’ or ‘sweet’ person, I don’t think she was shrieking at everyone (I have a meta about the sexist undertones to her portrayal). I wrote my dissertation on the mechanisms of stigma and it is entirely about social power. Often an ‘elite’ group picks a characteristic and represses those with that characteristic. And the choice is often utterly arbitrary. Also the vast majority of discrimination (the mechanisms through which stigma is enacted) operates through institutions and isn’t simply people screaming epithets.So under normal circumstances I imagine Walburga as proud, haughty, comfortable with institutions protecting her heritage, fashionable, cutting when she wants to be and generally the Regina George of the British Pureblood scene (and this does sound like Aeliana). 

Side note: Aeliana is half Egyptian/half Italian and although she and Sirius are different nationalities they are both purebloods. And within this society  it’s blood status and not race/nationality that is the qualifier for social status.  

So when coming up with her character, I did write down generic traits I think a character like Sirius would be attracted to. She’s intelligent, isn’t a pushover (a very key need when dealing with Sirius), she can be very loving and has a wild streak. Also in D&D she’s sexy/sexually confident as I imagine Sirius having a strong sexual side.

But Aeliana is  also an elitist, and while not a deatheater she is comfortable with institutional discrimination (through blocking the building of a magical school) and is comfortable within her position in society and takes pride in her name. 

And this comfort is what I imagine Sirius is describing when he says that his parent’s thought Voldemort had the right idea but weren’t keen on his methods. She is far more embedded in the pureblood world than Sirius is, but she does chafe against parts of it. 

And yes part of his attraction to her in Pietas, is the acceptance of his family if they marry. Plus the fact that she appears (at least to Sirius) to come from a traditional family where love and fondness is shown. She is friends with Slytherins and is an approved match from his family, so at least subconsciously he knows her views about things. 

In D&D, she pulls him back into the world he’s been running from and holds a mirror to the things he’s suppressed. 

IMO Sirius’s fatal flaw is his failure to recognise his privilege and how shaped by his upbringing he is. So yes his attraction to Aeliana is rooted in the part of him that is very much a Black. 

#Sirius black #my writing #lovely anon asks