#The Manor Wedding Venue | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellaxgiornata · 6 months

Text

Break the Tension [Chapter Two: "The Rehearsal Dinner"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k

[Full summary and series chapter list can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Enemies to lovers, sexual tension, smut, semi-public sex, light angst

a/n: So this fic won the poll for which one I'll update today! I also feel like this part really sets the tone for this series... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @mattkinsella @danzer8705 @pazii @paracosmic-murdock @xxdrixx

It had been years since Matt had last been around you. Graduation day at Columbia, to be exact. And yet from the moment you'd stepped into Fairfield Manor and made your way down the hallway towards him with Marci at your side, he'd known one thing remained true.

You still drove him absolutely crazy.

Though not in the way you'd probably always thought. Matt truthfully never meant to be the way he was with you–harsh and teasing–but for some reason every time he got the taste of your pheromones on his tongue, his sexual frustration came out in the sharp way he spoke to you. He figured it was a sort of defense mechanism, one he hadn't initially meant to implement. Especially since it made him feel like a ridiculous school boy pulling his crush's ponytail because he couldn't just use his words.

Matt had picked up on your physical attraction to him from the very first day you both had met in the lecture for Critical Legal Thought. And back then, he'd always been terrified that if he flirted with you–even just a little bit–and you became the least bit aroused around him, he'd lose his mind completely. He didn't think he could handle the smell of your arousal mingled with your natural pheromones, not without pathetically throwing himself at you in Columbia's hallways. So he'd been crass and rude instead, still craving your attention but unable to handle you being further attracted to him. But to his surprise, you always held your own against him, which somehow only made you more attractive to him.

But for some damn reason when you'd shown up tonight, he'd found himself initially torn between wanting to keep you at a distance and wanting to finally have you. Admittedly he'd forgotten just how good you always smelled because no one else ever had quite the same effect on him. It was like your particular pheromones were crafted specifically to drive him wild.

You were Matt’s weakness and he so desperately wanted to be yours.

Earlier tonight, back at the venue for the rehearsal for tomorrow's ceremony, things had gone fairly uneventful after the initial interaction Matt’d had with you. Though he had noticed the way you'd reacted to his fingers barely grazing you below the hem of your dress. He had reveled in the way your skin had prickled with goosebumps, your heart accelerating in your chest as your face heated. His cock had stirred awake in his dress pants almost immediately, the faintest hint of your arousal hitting his nose and then his tongue. Your response had shown him that you still found him attractive, possibly even more than he remembered you being back in college, even if you still seemed incredibly annoyed by his presence.

But Matt didn’t care about that. He’d find a way to change your opinion of him this weekend, at least enough so that his presence didn’t frustrate you. Because knowing you still found him attractive after he’d gotten a taste of your pheromones once more ultimately had him deciding that he was going to pursue you over the course of the wedding weekend– relentlessly . Matt refused to end the weekend without ever having a taste of you. Without ever hearing the soft, breathy moans he always imagined you'd make when he dove between your thighs. Without feeling all the soft, sweet lines of your body beneath his fingers– and his tongue. Without burying himself deep inside of you, fucking you so tenaciously that you could barely hold onto him, clawing at him as your your smart mouth moaned his name instead of cursing it for once.

Fuck. If he kept thinking like this he'd be needing to excuse himself to the bathroom just to take care of himself in one of the stalls.

Shifting under the table, trying to alleviate the sudden uncomfortable strain of his dress pants against himself, he attempted to focus on his dinner. On either side of him sat Foggy’s brother along with a few of Foggy’s cousins that were also members of the bridal party, but directly across the table from him was you. And the scent of your perfume mixing with your pheromones wasn't helping his situation right now.

For most of the rehearsal dinner you'd been focused on your own food shortly after everyone had been seated and served. Though you’d chatted with the bridesmaids around you until Marci and Foggy’s parents had given their toasts before the meal. Oddly enough you didn't seem as conversational as he usually remembered you being tonight. Instead, you'd kept your head ducked over your plate, eating your food and occasionally responding to comments.

Frustrated because you’d stayed true to your earlier words, not making conversation with him anymore than you had to, Matt's foot slid forward underneath the table. He knew this would probably irritate you further with him, but he also didn’t know how else to catch your attention. Anytime he’d tried to start a conversation with you this evening, you’d answered in clipped replies, quickly pulling others around you into the conversation when possible so you wouldn't have to converse solely with him.

He noticed your foot tapping anxiously in your heels as he slid his dress shoe forward until it finally bumped against yours. Across the table you stiffened in your seat, your foot halting its movements instantly. Bringing his fork to his mouth, he slipped the bit of steak between his lips as his head rose, his covered gaze focusing on you as he chewed. He could hear the tension growing in your muscles as your head rose marginally from the table, probably looking at him from across it and wondering if that had been an accident. Seconds later your foot slid a few inches backwards from his and resumed its anxious tapping.

Swallowing down the bite of food, Matt’s resolve didn’t disappear. He cut off another piece of his steak, spearing it with his fork and slowly drawing it up to his mouth. At the same time, he slid his foot forward again, bumping his into yours for a second time. This time he heard the way your hand tightened around your fork, your head rising up fully as you looked at him from across the table. He sent you a smirk before he took another bite from his fork.

“Goddamit, Murdock,” he heard you mutter under your breath.

His smirk only grew wider as he chewed, his focus on you while the rest of the table remained oblivious to the silent interaction. Though in that moment, Matt would’ve given anything to hear you moaning out his first name instead while he felt your cunt tightening around his cock.

Entering your room in an irritated huff, you closed and locked the door behind yourself. For a few minutes all you could do was pace the room in frustration, walking back and forth as you ran your fingers through your hair.

Matt had gotten under your skin and you hadn’t even been here a full day yet. And tonight Marci and Foggy were having a fire out in the courtyard for anyone who wanted to join them for the evening. You’d wanted to go, hoping to catch up with some of the girls you’d met through Marci and become friends with over the years, but the thought of running into Matt and dealing with his strange and annoying flirtatious teasing had you considering staying in tonight.

You didn’t understand what had gotten into him. He must’ve heard from someone after graduation that you’d once drunkenly called him attractive and he was now trying to make you admit it. Either that or he’d found out and figured it would be funny to tease you because of it, to make you think that you could ever draw his attention. Either way, you weren’t thrilled with his unwelcome flirting.

But that weird game of footsie he was trying to rope you into at dinner had been so odd. It was almost as if he knew how much it was making you mad. Which was strange considering he couldn’t see your reaction each time he touched his foot to yours.

With a sigh you told yourself you needed to stop thinking about Matt for the evening. You’d just stay in your room, clean off your face, and maybe get to bed early. That way you’d be rested for tomorrow. Admittedly the couple of glasses of wine from dinner were making you a little tired, anyway.

Heading back towards your bed, you picked up the clutch purse you’d brought with you to the restaurant. Opening it up, you reached inside for your phone, but your fingertips only brushed along your lipstick, your ID, and your debit card. Panic shooting through you, you opened the clutch wider and peered inside. Your phone wasn’t there.

A surge of fear raced through you as you tried to recall when you’d last had it. You know you’d used it at the rehearsal dinner tonight, but you could’ve sworn that you had put it back into your purse before you’d left. With a groan you realized you must have left it somewhere at the restaurant, which meant you were now going to have to borrow someone’s phone to call a ride back there just to pick it up.

“Great,” you grumbled to yourself.

Two brisk knocks at your bedroom door startled you, causing you to jump on the spot as the sound broke through your thoughts. Turning, you made your way over towards the door, wondering who it could be and also hoping they had a phone you could borrow. But when you unlocked and opened the door, you were vexed to see Matt standing there in the hallway. That stupid smirk was on his mouth again, too.

"What the hell do you want, Murdock?" you ground out. "I'm sort of in the middle of something right now."

"Oh?" he asked, his brows rising up high over his glasses. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing that concerns you," you answered.

Peering around him in the hall, you searched for signs of anyone else you could ask to borrow a phone from. Unfortunately the hall was entirely empty except for Matt.

"Well, does the something wrong happen to do with you accidentally leaving your phone at the restaurant?" he asked.

Your attention swiftly returned to him, watching as he reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and slid your phone from within it. Relief flooded you instantly at the sight of it, a soft sigh escaping you. Though when that smirk grew on his lips at the sound of your relief, your left hand balled into a fist at your side. You didn’t like that he was pleased at having helped you.

"Heard you'd left it on the table from one of the bridesmaids," he explained. "So I offered to bring it back to you, considering we have rooms next to each other."

"How very gallant, Murdock. Thank you," you said in a clipped tone, accepting the phone from his outstretched hand. "But now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get ready for bed."

Before you could close the door more than an inch, Matt’s hand darted forward. Your eyes widened in shock, staring at his large palm as it spread wide over the wooden door, halting its movements.

"You aren't going to the fire tonight?" he asked, head tilting curiously to the side. "With everyone else?"

“If it means interacting with you? No, I’m not,” you replied bitterly. “Can you please let go of my door now? I think we’re done here.”

Matt said your name, the sound of it coming out low and sultry from his lips. Your hand gripped the door tighter in response, your eyes fixed to the red lenses of his glasses. It was as if his voice had suddenly put you in a trance and you couldn’t look away from him, your heart speeding up just a little faster in your chest.

“Why don’t you just admit it?” he questioned softly, taking a slow, calculated step into your room. “Just admit you want me. That you’ve always wanted me.”

Brows jumping up onto your forehead in surprise, your mouth fell partially open. Taken so off guard by his words and his boldness, you didn’t have the chance to stop him from further entering your room. Blinking rapidly a few times in shock, you took a step back from his imposing form passing through your door. Someone must have told him that you’d once drunkenly admitted to finding him attractive and now he was being an asshole about it. That had to have been the reasoning for his behavior so far.

“I’ve always thought you were a conceited asshole, actually,” you shot back.

You hoped he hadn’t caught the tremble in your voice as he continued to close the small distance between you both. For some reason you found him more attractive than usual advancing on you like he was; you couldn’t exactly explain why it was beginning to turn you on. He looked intimidating and strong with those broad shoulders tugging at his suit coat, the buttons of his dress shirt pulling beneath his tie which was askew along his chest. He looked good–better than he ever did at Columbia–but you did not want to be feeling that way. Not for Matthew Murdock. Because he was an asshole .

“And I think you should go,” you ordered, finding your voice again.

“Is that what you really want?” he asked, voice dropping an octave to something deeper as he took another step towards you. “Because I’m not buying it, sweetheart.”

Matt continued to gradually stalk towards you, one hand reaching out behind himself and pushing your door closed. It shut with a soft thump and your heart stuttered in your chest at the sound. Because you were alone with him in your room now, and for some reason that was having an effect on you that you’d rather never admit to him.

“I think,” he continued in that gravelly, deep tone, “that you’ve always wanted to know what it would be like with me.”

“That’s what you think, is it?” you questioned weakly.

“Mmm,” he hummed out, lips curling upwards. “Mhmm.”

Unable to move, your eyes fixed on his smirking lips, Matt closed the remaining distance between the pair of you. His hands very gently landed on your hips and your breath hitched in response, catching in your throat under his touch. In all the years you’d known Matt in college, he’d never once touched you. Not once. Not until that brief graze of his fingertips along your thigh earlier at the rehearsal. But right now it felt like the heat from his fingers were searing into your skin beneath the thin fabric of your dress, burning you from the inside out. It felt far too good, especially when his hands tightened further on your hips, gripping them more firmly as he balled your dress in his fists, pulling the fabric higher up.

Still transfixed by his face, you could see the sharp flare of his nostrils as he repeatedly expelled harsh breaths from his nose, his chest lightly heaving each time. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as his head tilted to the side, almost like he was studying you in the silence that had fallen. Even behind the dark lenses of his glasses that he wore you could see that he was focused on you.

And that’s when a thought struck you as you took in the sight of him, trying to keep your knees from quivering at his proximity. He didn’t seem like he was remotely teasing you right now. This didn’t feel like the Matthew Murdock you’d known in college who’d taunted you and made jabs at you. He wasn’t here doing any of that.

No, it seemed like he genuinely wanted you.

Something stirred low within you at the thought, a heat beginning to grow inside of you. One you’d never anticipated when it came to this particular man, no matter how attractive you’d found him over the years. Because he’d always been such an asshole to you. But yet…

“Except,” you found yourself saying, surprising even yourself with the way your tongue had been loosened by the glasses of wine you’d had with dinner, “I’m pretty sure it's the other way around. Because looking at you right now, Murdock, I’d say you’re the one who wants to know what it would be like with me.”

You saw the moment his jaw clenched, the muscle jumping agitatedly in his cheek. He bit down harder on his bottom lip, his shoulders tensing at your voice.

A jolt of curiosity sparked inside of you at his reaction, your nerves dissipating. Had that been it all along? Had Matthew Murdock actually wanted you back then? Was that why he was being an asshole to you now, coming into your room uninvited and making these flirtatious advances? Because he still wanted you?

Oh that was an unexpected twist indeed. One you were going to enjoy in more ways than one this weekend. Because maybe you’d thought about fucking Matt in college, back before he’d become quite so mean to you that you couldn’t bear the sight of him, but now you considered taking what you wanted from him. Maybe you’d find out if he really was as great in bed as everyone praised him to be, but that’s all you’d do. Take what you wanted from him. And you weren’t going to make this easy on him in the slightest–he was far too cocky to begin with.

Consider it payback , you thought. You beautiful asshole .

When he hadn’t denied your comment outright, you figured now was as good a time as any to test your theory. You took a step closer to Matt, leaving the pair of you now only inches apart. Immediately you heard a rumbling within his chest at the movement, the noise something almost animalistic that sent a shudder straight up your spine. A pleased smile grew wide across your lips when he fisted the fabric of your dress even tighter in his hands.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” you murmured, tilting your face up towards his. “Tell me, Murdock,” you whispered, bringing your mouth closer to his as you spoke, “how often did you think about fucking me?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you, sweetheart,” Matt shot back.

“And how often have you thought about it on you, hmm?” you countered.

Matt’s bottom lip rolled out from beneath his teeth, his lips twitching as they thinned out along his face. It looked like he was struggling before you, torn between making a snarky comeback or fighting the urge to kiss you. Especially with how you’d leaned up towards him, your mouth only the slightest distance from his. You could feel his warm breath brushing over your lips as you stood there, the rush of adrenaline from having such an unexpected effect on him easily going to your head–and your cunt.

Almost as if in slow motion, Matt dove forward to press his mouth to yours, but you abruptly stepped back from him. He immediately froze in place, head canting to the side as his dark brows knitted together beneath his glasses. His lips pressed firmly together as his expression shifted to one of confusion, and the sight left you grinning in satisfaction once again.

Reaching out, you placed your hand against Matt’s chest, noticing the way his lips parted and a faint whine barely spilled out between them. With a gentle push, you nudged him backwards. Surprised, Matt stumbled back a step, his hands releasing their hold on your dress. The fabric unbunched, sliding back down your legs.

“I’m not going to kiss you, Murdock,” you stated.

“Oh come on, you clearly want to,” he snapped. “I may be blind, but I can’t be the only one seeing the sexual tension here. Just admit you want me. That you want me to bend you over your bed and fuck you senseless here and now.”

Eyes narrowing, you shook your head. “No,” you answered.

“No?” he questioned, surprised.

“No,” you repeated. “I don’t want that, Murdock.”

He huffed out a laugh, that stupid, smug smirk spreading back across his lips. “Now, I’m not going to believe that for a second.”

“Believe what you want, sweetheart ,” you replied, tone intentionally condescending, “but if you want me, you’re going to have to beg for it.”

Matt openly scoffed, shaking his head as he let out a humorless laugh. “Absolutely not. I’m certainly not one to beg, and I sure as hell won’t beg for you ,” he ground out. “You’ll change your mind real soon, sweetie. I can tell you want me. Then you’ll be the one coming to beg me to fuck you and it’ll be that much sweeter .”

“Tell yourself whatever you want,” you told him. “Just do it out of my room that your desperate ass barged into. I need to get ready for that fire.”

He pulled a face at your words, his mouth opening and closing for a moment. The sight almost had you laughing but you bit your tongue, trying to fight it back. He somehow looked even more confused.

“I–I thought you said you weren’t going to that?” he asked.

“I changed my mind,” you answered with a shrug. “Might be fun to watch you squirm now that I know what you’re really after.”

Matt shook his head, turning around and heading back towards your door. You almost offered to help him as he felt around in front of himself for a second, but then he’d grabbed the door handle and twisted it open. He took a step out into the hall, grabbing his cane that he must’ve rested against the wall out in the hallway. Before he left, he turned over his shoulder back towards you.

“You have absolutely no idea what I’m after,” he told you.

You watched as Matt unfolded his cane, making his way next door to his own room. Standing in the middle of your room, you were left staring out of the open door wondering what the hell he’d meant by that.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock angst #matt murdock

234 notes · View notes

wordsofhoneydew · 1 month

Text

fic rec time!! lfg

here i compiled a list of 11 amazing fics under 500 kudos!! you have angst, smut, fluff, pinging, grief, hurt/comfort. you fucking name it, it’s here.

happy reading!

Invisible by @nocoastposts [100, G]

For the Brownstone Discord Server's weekly drabble prompt "invisible".

Total Eclipse by @myheartalivewrites [1k, T]

Alex is not sure what the fuck is happening here.

“And if you only hold me tight…”

A man—probably the most beautiful man he has ever seen—is up on stage in this karaoke bar, absolutely murdering Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart and he’s pretty sure the guy is crying and it’s one of the most horrifying things he’s ever seen and Alex cannot. Look. Away.

Be Mine (And Be Yourself) by @itsmaybitheway [9k, E]

It starts with a misunderstanding, the way it always does with them.

Early on in their relationship, when there wasn’t even a relationship to speak of, the misunderstandings used to feed the animosity.

Then they’ve turned into something softer when their relationship turned into something softer. Purposefully misunderstanding each other just to take a jab, messing around for the fun of it or turning an innocent comment into a filthy innuendo and watching the other squirm.

But this? Oh a misunderstanding has never been this delicious, this appetizing. This one feels like the door to fucking sexy Narnia and Alex can not wait to eat those delicious Turkish delights

OR Henry just wants to be Alex's pretty little princess and Alex will make sure he gets his wish! AKA my Valentine's Day fic with housewife!Henry

it's so hard to get to heaven with my head in my hands by @anincompletelist [6k, M]

His mother would have a fit if she could see him now, taking comfort he isn’t owed from men he shouldn’t want it from. But Henry wipes his tears with the back of his hand and Alex begins singing the dulcet tune of a Spanish lullaby and George feels, perhaps for the first time in his life, like he belongs.

the tragic flaw is that they hide the truth (that you’re enough, you’re enough) by srrafoxjournals [6k, NR]

Alex has been staring.

For weeks now, actually.

Henry had originally chalked it up to Alex being, well, Alex. But lately, Henry can’t help but take it in as more than just his boyfriend's usual oddness.

Or: After gaining some weight, Henry feels self conscious. Alex however, loves his tummy.

blurred lines. by seafloor [5k, E]

Henry is a lovesick writer; Alexander a charismatic bartender. They’re still fated to fall into bed at some point.

I will/I will/We will by @tintagel-or-cockleshells [6k, T]

Alex's wedding planning business is going from strength to strength, but if he never has another wedding at Mountchristen Manor it will be too soon. He just can't get along with Henry, the venue coordinator, and the feeling is mutual. But when push comes to shove, the couple's big day has to come first.

I’ll be with him again soon by mymistakesweremade4u [3k, T]

It's sometime in mid-January, just a couple of months shy of his 95th birthday, when Henry finds himself surrounded by family in his and Alex's bedroom.

Or, Alex and Henry grew old together.

beg you on my knees (to stay) by @littlemisskittentoes [13k, E]

“Up.” Henry keeps the tone low. Controlled.

Alex is often frantic to follow commands, his limbs falling over themselves in his haste to obey. There’s no sign of that rushed need now. He takes his time, unfolding himself leisurely.

“You’re bold,” Henry monotones. He takes calculated steps forward, punctuating each slow stride with the unbutton and roll of his shirt sleeves. “I’ll give you that.”

“You’re only now realizing? Thought you were brighter than that, baby.”

keep me up all night / i wanna scratch your surface by @firenati0n [1k, M]

They step inside, greeted by moonlight streaming through the windows, illuminating their living room in a dreamy light; it’s enough to see outlines and shapes, enough to keep everything just a little bit secretive, a little softer around the edges.

Henry moves his hand to flick on the kitchen light, and Alex’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist. Henry looks down at him questioningly, blue eyes sparkling even with the absence of light. Alex always feels a little off-kilter around him, Henry both his center of gravity and his reason for vertigo. He’s stabilizing, and dizzying, and everything.

Alex’s thumb and index finger circle Henry’s slender wrist, exerting the slightest pressure. He feels Henry's pulse jump under his thumb.

“Get on the couch.”

don’t let me get drunk again by @getmehighonmagic [3k, E]

Alex had never wanted to cancel plans as much as he had while watching Henry pull a pair of light wash, tight jeans over his stockinged legs and bare ass.

Christ, he’s getting hard thinking about it now.

127 notes · View notes

devine-fem · 18 days

Note

What about Jondami's marrige? 😏 What do you think happens? Their families reaction?

I love the idea of Jon showing up at Wayne Manor and being so formal with Bruce with all the “Mr. Wayne” and “yes, sir” he can throw in and being so timid because he HAS to get this blessing in order for everything to be perfect because Damian “deserves no less” and poor Bruce has his arms crossed and is torturing this poor guy, being as vague as possible and throwing him through multiple loops to test Jon and if he’s actually worthy of Damian but more selfishly it’s all because he wants to feel secure in their relationship. Jon is SWEATING… he takes everything Bruce is saying dead serious and he’s being gaslit to hell like a drill sergeant… he does eventually get that blessing and a heart to heart with Bruce.

Talia is actually quite easy because she’s materialistic and selfishly I like to think that even adult Jon would be mature enough to get along with Talia or at least try because they’ll be in laws and so Talia tells Jon what sort of proper ring he should get Damian and what he’s to do if he wants them to have a fortunate and healthy marriage but he eventually gets a heart to heart with her as well, making him promise that he’d do whatever it takes to keep Damian safe and happy.

THEN when he actually does propose its infront of so many heroes and Damian is freaking out but more at the fact that he’s internally panicking about the fact that someone is actively trying to marry him and he’s begging Jon to stop embarrassing him but Jon is just continuing to go on and on about how happy he’s been with Damian. The batboys are freaking out to the point they are almost as stressed at him, the girls are gawking and clark’s wishing he had his phone.

Damian says “Yes, jeez! If that’ll make you stop this!” and so they’re engaged.

but also, there’s angst because they’d be the only two in the family that has successfully gotten married and Damian would be terrified of this and really in his head about the whole concept of marriage and the fact that… he’s really committed to this whole “life partner” thing…

Jon’s stressed out to the point he almost builds the wedding venue himself because he needs everything to be perfect but clarks there for him.

Conner is Jon’s best man and Dick is Damian’s. Steph and Kara as flower girls and when I tell you that this wedding venue would be AWESOME! it’d be so cultural and visually stimulating and don’t even let me get into how I could go on and on about how their wedding suits could match their cultures as Al Ghul and kryptonian.

anyway, dick’s sharing all their couple fights and all the embarrassing parts of their relationship that they confided in him once he gets a mic in his hand, jason doesnt expect it but he cries with dick. tim is shit faced drunk and clark and bruce are cracking as many in law jokes as they possibly can.

now imagine the most domestic husbands ever. these two are the most embarrassing and annoying married couple you will ever meet but they also dance in their kitchen to absolutely no music and cook each other breakfast in the morning every day so its not all going to be bad.

#jondami #super sons #damian wayne #jon kent #supersons #jonathan kent #dc comics #damijon #bruce wayne #asks

99 notes · View notes

wttcsms · 1 year

Text

fault / lines , ominis gaunt ;

[ prologue ]

pairing ominis gaunt x f!reader word count 1.5k content contains arranged marriage, summer before first year, scenes involving throwing up

[ series masterlist ]

Ideally, you would not be throwing up in the second floor lavatory of your family’s home on the day you are to meet your betrothed.

Your mother is horrified, naturally. How absolutely unbecoming of her young daughter to represent the esteemed Malfoy Family in such an undignified manner. In her eyes — a shiny silver that resembles that of a steel blade — you’re acting no better than a filthy Mudblood.

Her disparaging comments, however, do nothing to stop you from dryheaving over the basin, and all she can do is make an irritated noise from the other side of the door before calling for one of the house-elves to assist you.

“Young Mistress Malfoy,” a squeaky voice appears from your left side, but you don’t bother turning around to acknowledge Lucky, the young house-elf who had been practically assigned to you since birth. “Lucky is here to get her young mistress all cleaned up so’s she can prepare to meet her—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Lucky.” You shut your eyes, fingers curled around the basin so tightly to the point where your knuckles are beginning to turn white from the pressure. “Please.”

In the world of Pureblood society, early engagements that have been contracted since childhood — sometimes even before the births of the children — are as a common as grains of sand on a beach. It’d be more of an anomaly not to have one, and as a daughter belonging to the Malfoy family, it was only a matter of time before the inevitable marriage contract would be formed. In just a few weeks’ time, you’ll be heading on a train to begin your first year of school with a fiance by your side.

Engagement. Betrothed. Fiance. Each word only makes your stomach feel weaker, but after refusing to eat breakfast this morning, there’s really nothing left for you to hurl.

Your older sister, Venus, is about to enter her fifth year. She’s set to marry one of the Rosier sons, and as a result, has been stressing over French lessons this whole entire summer. Apparently, he finds the weather in his family’s hometown in France much more agreeable than the perpetual grey clouds that hang over Wiltshire. The eldest and only son, Orion, is entering his final year at Hogwarts. He already has a Ministry job waiting for him upon his graduation, and your mother has been running around the manor, obsessively making sure that the estate is ready to accommodate the high volume of people who will be coming over to what will surely be the most anticipated wedding of the summer. Orion’s betrothed, the oldest daughter in the Greengrass family, is in Venus’s grade.

Somehow, the idea of entering one school year a teenage girl and entering the next as a wife is a very frightening concept.

Perhaps it’s your young age that makes you so opposed to the seemingly restrictive nature of marriages. You know that some students, students whose families are not a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, have the freedom to court whoever they please. What fun it must be, you think, to catch the eye of a stranger and know that you could pursue them if only you have the courage?

Your parents would be quick to remind you that courage is just praised stupidity. There is no reward here for being brave.

Which is precisely why you’re fine with locking yourself in the lavatory. If you had an ounce of bravery in you, you would find it easier to stand straight with your chin held up high and the strength to walk out of here and boldly look your future husband in the eyes.

But you are not brave. You are eleven years old, and you don’t quite want to face the harsh realities of entering a society that praises tradition and reigning supreme above all else.

If it isn’t courage that is praised, at least your family values duty. Venus surely is not in love with the Rosier boy, but she is absolutely committed to bringing pride to both families by being the best wife she could possibly be. Orion has never once been outwardly affectionate to anybody, and yet, you know deep in your heart that he will at least be kind to his wife. If your siblings can face these respnsibitlies without letting so much as a grimace slip through their perfect, Pureblood masks, then surely you can, too.

And so, like a dutiful daughter, you allow Lucky to clean you and fix your dress before you stand straight, head held up high, ready to face your future.

He would surely never hear the end of this.

Standing in the foyer of the massive Malfoy Manor is not on the list of things Ominis Gaunt is particularly happy to do. Nearby, his father is speaking to Aleksander Malfoy, the man set to be Ominis’s father-in-law.

That is, if you ever decide to make your appearance.

He can hear the familiar low cadence of his father’s voice, and the deeper still, rumbling tone of what must be your father. They’re too far for Ominis to catch the specifics of their conversation, which is saying something since Ominis can hear much better than most. The feeling that he shouldn’t even be here only continues to fester in the pit of his stomach and the cracks of his heart as he hears a woman’s voice — presumably your mother — speaking to his own.

“She’ll be out in just a minute! The poor thing’s agonizing over making a good first impression. She wants to look her best for your son!”

Ominis wonders if that’s true; if so, he feels awful for all the supposed extra effort you’re exerting on his behalf. If your goal was to impress him by looks alone, you’re going to be vastly disappointed in him.

Perhaps it’s for the best, then. Maybe his family can just head back home, and this can all be some sort of sick memory that he spends the rest of his life trying to forget. Let the Malfoys send off their daughter to someone more deserving, someone who will be able to appreciate your beauty.

“Terribly sorry for the delay.” A soft voice cuts through the growing tension in the foyer. With his keen sense of hearing, Ominis can nearly pinpoint from what direction the speaker is standing, but he doesn’t make an effort to face you quite yet. “Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt, please forgive me for my lack of punctuality. I see that in my efforts to ensure I would not disappoint you, I only became an inconvenience.”

His parents both laugh off your formal apology, probably just relieved that there’s a strong chance of this marriage still going through. Not many families would be too happy about marrying off their daughter to someone like Ominis, but it appears that even a family as prestigious as the Malfoys has a price. A side effect of being a Slytherin, no doubt.

You make your way to the young boy standing closest to the front door. Neatly parted hair. A bit taller than you, so at least you’ll still be able to wear your heeled loafers. But the most interesting observation you make of him is his eyes — a stunning shade that fuses blue and green together yet is covered by an almost milky film. It makes him no less handsome. You think he might even have a shot at being one of the most handsome boys in your year.

He senses your presence and waits until you come to a standstill before introducing himself.

“I’m Ominis. Ominis Gaunt. It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

You give him your name in reply, unsure of what to make of the boy standing in front of you.

“I apologize for the lengths you felt you needed to go through for our meeting. I’m sure you’re very beautiful.”

There’s a high likelihood that this Ominis boy does not mean a single word he’s saying. Chances are, he’s every bit his parents’ puppet as much as you are with your own. Still, he’s not an absolute oaf, and with both your families watching the two of you interact, you swallow back any teasing remarks and remain polite.

Your future is right ahead of you, and it takes the form of a boy just barely older than you with beautiful, cursed eyes. As you allow him to take your hand, you come to terms with the fact that this is the day everything changes.

The official binding contract is created; your fate is essentially signed, sealed, and delivered in blood in its purest form and wrapped with ancient magic that ensures this vow cannot be broken.

From this point forward, your life is now tied to Ominis Gaunt.

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x mc #one shot #drabble #imagine #hogwarts legacy #arranged marriage au #fic series: fault / lines

472 notes · View notes

wisteria-blooms · 8 months

Text

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (1/?) pilot

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

A/N: Pilot chapter of the Charlie Weasley version of 'long hair & tattoos.' Hastily edited before work so I'll fix things up as I go. I hope you'll like it!

CHAPTER 1: When Lucius threatens to bring Goyle over with the intent of courtship, you fight back. Malfoys never lose, right? 1.9k words

CHAPTER 1: 23, STILL CRAZY

Before you knew it, September had fallen over the Malfoy Manor.

Now, what did a September dinner look like at the Malfoy Manor?

It looked like a long dining table engulfed by the even larger room it presided in. It looked like a warm and gorgeous chandelier, embedded with thousands of crystals, that hung overtop the middle of the table. It looked like the rattling of leaves, threatening to redden and the brown, outside in the rolling gardens. It looked like the velvet sun seeping into the windows, casting frightening shadows on the patriarch’s face.

With every second that ticked by, you felt the last of summer slip through your hands. In a few weeks, it would get darker earlier and earlier until you were dining with your family in darkness.

“Genevieve’s wedding really was beautiful,” your mother, Narcissa, remarked for the third time today. And the tenth time this week. But who was counting?

You nodded blithely. Of course, it was beautiful. Anything Malfoy money touched, despite how little thought or meaning was put it in, was stained beautiful. Truly, it was something, watching your eldest cousin, Genevieve, marry on the cliffs overlooking the French Riviera. She wore the most gorgeous dress, and her hair was done to perfection, not a strand out of place.

You were happy for her but you had to wonder: wasn’t your own happiness what mattered the most? When Genevieve was holding Maximillian’s hand, saying vows that were too pure and sweet to come out of her mouth, you were sat alone watching. Your eyes would drift everywhere. First, at Draco, beside you, who had brought Astoria. You watched your two littlest cousins, Charlotte and Clara, holding each other and tearing up at Genevieve’s vows. Then, to your cousin, Claude. Claude was Genevieve’s older brother and was clasping his girlfriend’s hand that was perched on his lap. She was probably a soon-to-be-fiancée after this event. Genevieve’s picturesque romance sparked a fever in everyone, including yourself.

And you trudged on alone the rest of the night, nursing your champagne, embraced by only the sweet sea air.

Everything was perfect from start to end. They had perfect weather (cloudless blue skies and sunshine), the perfect people in attendance, the perfect vows, and the perfect dinner, the perfect wine, and—

As much as you hated to admit it, it was bitter to be alone.

Really freaking bitter.

“You should consider a location for your own wedding, (Y/N),” Narcissa, always the optimist, continued. “These venues book up quite fast. Susan’s daughter has been on the waitlist for her choice venue for a year now.”

“The booking isn’t the hard part,” Draco, your little brother by two years, added. “The hardest part is (Y/N) finding a man that can actually tolerate her.”

“That’s true,” you said in agreement, much to Draco’s chagrin. “I don’t think any man is suitable for my standards.”

“Maybe the men aren’t the problem,” Lucius, your father, said through gritted teeth. You had probably evoked some bad memories of you abandoning the gentlemen he’d tried introducing you to at the country club.

“That’s just it, they are the problem,” you shot back. “Money or status doesn’t better a person make.”

“You won’t be holding onto that belief when you inevitably end up alone,” Lucius stated.

“Father, I may have a solution to (Y/N)’s predicament,” Draco piped up. A devious smile spread across his face. “Dear sister, you remember my friend, Goyle, don’t you?”

All that came to mind when you heard Gregory “Goyle” was a sweaty and stout boy with a forehead bigger than the rest of his face. The size of his noggin clearly housed nothing because the thoughts that came out his mouth were puzzling. And any chance of Goyle nurturing his intelligence or academic pursuits was shot down whenever a pretty girl walked by. At least he had quidditch to fall back on. He was definitely a decent beater by strength, rivalling your best friends, Fred and George Weasley. They often complained to you about his dirty tricks on the field.

“I wish I didn’t,” you lamented.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “His father and I are acquaintances,” he mused. “He would be a decent choice of a partner.”

Goyle? That was the best your family could come up with for you? How low could they go now?

But still, you looked at your father in bewilderment. “You’re not serious, are you?” When Lucius didn’t answer, you continued. “Kiss any chance of intelligent children in your bloodline goodbye,” you quipped, swirling your wine glass around. “Wasn’t like Draco was going to propagate that trait anyway.”

“I would do a better job than you!” Draco retorted, slamming his own glass down. You smiled a bit; you’d broken him with that remark. “If I recall correctly, dear sister, there were some classes you didn’t fare well in, leading to mother and father having to visit the Headmaster personally.”

You flushed red. It was true, everything he said. It wasn’t your fault that it was just one class you couldn’t do well in, no matter how hard you tried.

“Well, if you spent more time reading than sucking off Pansy’s face in the library, maybe you would’ve graduated with distinction, too.”

“At least someone wanted to date me. Or were you snogging both of the Weasleys when I wasn’t looking?”

“That is enough!” Lucius bellowed. He was loud enough to shut both of you up. “(Y/N), this is despicable conversation and I will not have this at my dinner table.” Of course, this was all your fault. And likely, your father’s head was imploding at the thought of you having relations with a Weasley. Any Weasley.

“Yeah, (Y/N),” Draco whispered. “Don’t be indecent at the table.”

“Shut up,” you whispered back, taking a slow sip of wine to regain composure.

“I will personally extend a dinner invitation to Gregory and his family. We will dine here in a fortnight,” Lucius announced.

“What?” you blurted out. You thought this whole thing was a stupid joke. “For what purposes will you have him here, father?”

“I reckon it’s long overdue that the Malfoys officially make allies with the Goyle family,” Lucius stated. “And I’ve been left with no choice.” He was referring to all the times you’d rejected his friends’ sons.

The look on his face was stern. And for once, you couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

“If even Genevieve can find a partner to spend her life with, then so can you,” Narcissa cajoled. You would’ve laughed at her veiled insult towards your cousin, but the situation was too dire for humour.

Your father couldn’t possibly want you to romance Goyle. You were envious of Genevieve’s fairytale wedding, but you didn’t want that if Goyle was your betrothed.

You felt acid at the back of your throat. You clenched your jaw. Anger was burned your face, anyone who couldn’t see it would be a fool.

“I won’t have it, father,” you stated coolly. You weren’t going to let Lucius, who never lost at anything, win this one. “If the purpose of the dinner is for me to entertain Goyle.”

The tension in the room was palpable; the atmosphere had taken a complete nosedive. Narcissa and Draco remained completely silent.

“You don’t get to choose everything you want to do in your life, (Y/N),” Lucius gritted through his teeth. “You’ve made a fool of me a million times over because I let you do what you wanted.”

You slumped back in your chair and huffed. Whatever your father wanted, he got. But what if there was a way to circumvent that? The wheels in your head began turning. What if it was improper to have Goyle here in the first place because—

“I’m not sure how my boyfriend would feel about that, honestly,” you said, swirling your wine nonchalantly like you hadn’t told the biggest lie in the world.

And with that, three heads swung around and fixated on you.

“What did you say?” Narcissa asked, her curiosity visible on her face. “I’m not sure I heard correctly.”

“That I have a boyfriend and I’m not sure how he’d feel if he found out my father was trying to set me up with another man,” you responded.

“That’s impossible,” Draco stated. “You just said there was no man suitable for your standards.”

“In general, yes, of course,” you said. “But he’s different.”

“Who is ‘he’?” Draco asked, trying to get you to perjure yourself.

“Why wouldn’t he have come to the wedding?” Narcissa asked. You were lucky that her sudden interest superseded any of Draco’s questions.

“I wasn’t sure how well-received he’d be around such uptight people like Uncle Theo and the rest of our family,” you said. “And he’d would’ve drawn all the attention off Genevieve, which would’ve been disastrous given her constant need for it. Maybe you could meet him in a more intimate setting, like at this dinner father is suggesting we have.”

Lucius’s lip quirked. “And to what—”

“Advantage you’ll have? If you’re looking to better our family name, I assure you he will do a much better job than the Goyles ever could.”

You were so cool despite your frantically-beating heart that you were impressed with yourself. Who knew that deep-down, you could be a stone-cold Malfoy, too? Fred and George surely wouldn’t be impressed with that revelation.

“Fine,” Lucius finally ceded. “Invite him over in a fortnight. But I must warn you, (Y/N), if you do anything to embarrass the family name…”

“I understand, father,” you responded with your hands in the air. You knew the lecture by heart. “I’ll renounce the trust put in my name, and allow Draco inherit it instead.”

“And we’ll invite the Goyles over with the intention of courtship.”

Lucius thought you’d be upset about that, that it was a good enough threat to put you in line. But you didn’t care. You had the wealth of your own savings and the knowledge that Draco would always be your family’s favourite child. If your parents had it their way, Draco would inherit everything and he wouldn’t have to split it with their failure of a daughter. He was brilliant and golden; you were the runt. Empty threats like that meant nothing to you.

“You’re a liar,” whispered Draco from beside you.

“I would never,” you shot back. “Just wait and see.”

“Oh, I’m just aching in anticipation,” he said. “To see how badly you’ll embarrass yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, and adjusted your posture on your seat as the main course, salmon and asparagus, was served by Dobby.

When dinner concluded, you ran up the stairs without a look back. When you were certain you were alone and that every single sound-proofing charm was cast on your room, you frantically opened your drawer. You pulled out a directory and slammed through the pages. Names of old classmates and acquaintances whipped past your vision, but no one seemed to fit what you were looking for: a fake boyfriend to get your parents to sod off for the rest of your life.

You were going to wage another Wizarding War if you asked your male friends who were dating or engaged to other women. And any of the boys you danced off at the country club certainly weren’t going to be on your side.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, slamming the directory shut.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back again the bed. You would figure this out tomorrow, if Fred and George could carve out some time for you.

>> NEXT CHAPTER

<< CHAPTER DIRECTORY

#charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley fic #bill weasley x reader

168 notes · View notes

sweetpandorabox · 7 months

Text

Blood Purity - Draco Malfoy x Female Reader (Part 1)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨sweetpandorabox୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…⋙

Synopsis: Keeping your family's Blood Purity and having high values when it comes to Intelligence and wisdom, is a duty and a sacred tradition all your family members of all generations have to follow. Getting sorted into Ravenclaw proving your worth, and following in your ancestor's footsteps, and keeping an Outstanding grade all the way through in Hogwarts kept your parents happy and proud, but not yet joyful. After 7 years of your Hogwarts journey coming to an end, they expect you to marry into a powerful pure-blooded family. As they take matters into their own hands your parents arranged a marriage for you based on a deal, to a boy who came from a powerful and pure-blooded family who you've despised for years.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Story Setting: The story is set in the year the 2000s, 2 years after the Battle of Hogwarts takes place, you and Draco were born in the 80s which would make the two of you around 20 years old in this Fanfiction. (anything in italic and bolded is a flashback scene btw)

Terms 📖:

Y/N - Your name

Y/H/C - Your hair color

Y/E/C - Your eye color

Warnings⚠️: Forced Proximity, Arguments, Bullying, Swearing and Slight Sexual Themes.

A/N: Hey cuties, sorry I've been gone for a while but I'm finally back, I wanted to start writing for Draco Malfoy because I actually love him, he's my 2nd Favorite Harry Potter boy and thought a forced proximity trope would be good and it would fit so well with the life he had in the Harry Potter books, but yeah I hope you enjoy this one I'm not used to writing something with a darker atmosphere and a more mature fanfiction here but I'm trying lol. love you. xx

Word Count: 1,959

The warm fireplace distributes its warm heat throughout the Malfoy Manor's dining hall, saving you from the cool winds of spring outdoors. The sounds of a crackling fire, quiet chatters, and sounds of cutlery being used against the delicate china plates plastered with grey floral designs played harmonically in your ear as you kept your eyes glued down on your plate of food, putting on a somewhat neutral face toying around with the contains you've been served without taking a single bite. "Y/N, at around 11pm tomorrow, you'll have to meet me and Narcissa at Sinclair's Weddings at Diagon Alley, it's for your dress fitting" your mother mentioned with a proud smile peeking through her lips, you raised your head up, and face to your right with a confused look watching your Mother takes a bite of her food, "But Mother, we've only been engaged for two weeks?" you asked with suspense trailing behind your voice, "Oh don't be silly Y/N, you and Draco are perfect for each other, it isn't worth waiting any longer," she replies sharing a smile with Narcissa from across the table as Narcissa did vise versa, "And besides everything has been taken care off, like the official date, venue, the food, the guest. You and Draco will love it" she continued. As silence roams back to the dinner table everyone continues to eat, you take a moment to pause and shift your gaze across the table to the blonde boy, focusing his pair of striking grey eyes solely on his food keeping his mouth shut and his head low.

You watched as he eyed down his food, showing no interest in anyone else taking a mouthful bite. Draco Lucius Malfoy goes far beyond your earliest memories of Hogwarts, known to be a bully and a Slytherin prince he paints a picture of himself as a snob and vile evil person, yet cowardice who enjoys taunting others for his own amusement, he gets anything and everything he wants no matter the circumstances as well. You kept to yourself most of the time during your Hogwarts years as a quiet and reserved Ravenclaw, having friends from all 4 houses and not favoring one over the other, you treated everybody equally, overlooking their blood status despite your family's belief, in 4th year however you've taken fond of Ronald Weasley who came from a pure-blooded yet poor family, you started dating him for 2 years but you don't find it easy in the slightest, as constant tournament form Draco swarms over you and Ron, he'd make snarky comments about you and the blood traitor as he calls him. Regular filthy stares came from Draco if you and Ron would show any amount of affection towards each other, because if it wasn't the harsh/shameful comments or filthy stares, Draco always finds another way to break whatever the two of you had.

"So I take it you'll be coming to my manor tomorrow night, make sure you put on that royal blue slip-on dress you always wear, you know the one with the sweetheart neckline, I find it quite alluring" Draco commented as he circle you with his minions chuckling, giving you a smirk and a playful wink. Ron stares in confusion between the two of you, realizing what had just happened you hold on to Ron's wrist, dragging him away quickly from the trio making sure you master up the dirtiest look you can give to the blonde boy, bumping his shoulder as you walk past fiercely drowning the sounds of wicked laughter behind you down. After the past event, Ron grew suspicious and demanded answers to what Draco meant earlier, not wanting to argue with your then-boyfriend you had no choice but to reveal a secret that nobody else knew about, "Ron, please just listen to me... The Malfoys and The Callahan have always been a close-knit group due to their mutual obsession over blood purity. Malfoy's mother and mine happen to be best of friends ever since their Hogwarts years, we have dinner parties with the Malfoys once every fortnight, that's all he meant by that...and since Christmas break is coming up, Draco and I will be home so it seems to be the perfect opportunity to have one in awhile... that's all I promise," you pleaded with guilt. Learning that information made Ron angry, as he decided to keep himself from you for days after that.

3 days have passed since Ron has last spoken to you, growing tired of his ignorance, you march up to the Slytherin table angrily, you scan the Slytherin table for a bleach-blonde head full of hair, and as you spot him you dash right over "Can I talk to you for a minute?" You ask, crossing your arm in frustration, matching the facial expression you displayed. Draco smirks, wasting no time and trails behind you as he leaves his group of unbothered Slytherins. You both settled outside the quiet hallway, leaving the great hall behind before you converse, "Malfoy, I really don't appreciate the comment you made 3 days ago... I mean, what are you honestly trying to do? Can't you see I'm happy?" you huffed out in frustration looking up at the tall figure, as his grey eyes pierced down at your small frame, he paused taken aback by your frustration before scoffing "What am I trying to do?... What am I trying to do? you're really asking that Callahan? he's a blood traitor. You can do so much better than that filthy Gryffindor... when are you going to realize your family would never accept him for who he is" he commented, without realizing how close he was getting to you, you backed up into the stone-cold wall, keeping eye contact with him, as he rests one of his hand on the wall by your head pinning you down.

Tensions spike up high between the two of you as your body comes closer and closer together. "When are you going to realize that your happiness could be right in front of you this whole time?" Draco blurted leaning his soft face closer to you and tilting his head, your cheek changed its shade into crimson red before you broke eye contact hearing footsteps walking away to your left cutting the tight tension, you watched as your loving boyfriend stormed away from what he'd seen, You panicked as he kept going never to look back at you, "Ron...Ron come back" you pleaded, pushing Draco away from you as you run after the Weasley boy leaving Malfoy on his own. The next day Ron breaks it off with you quick, for the very first time you feel as though you aren't worthy of any happiness as your heartbreak drives you into despair, you miss out on meals, frequently find yourself sobbing, and eventually watch as Ron fell in love with Hermione, from that day on you swore to yourself that you despise and hated Draco Malfoy and you will never change your mind about him. The sudden flashback made you fidgety as you smoothed out your old silky royal blue, slip-on dress. The one you've had since you were a teenager not having grown much physically making it fit you like a glove. After dinner has ended, you join your family in expressing their gratitude for the delicious meal and farewells to the Malfoys, completely ignoring Draco as he seems to do with you anyway. You embrace your future mother-in-law Narcissa warmly as she does vice versa and give your future father-in-law Lucious a firm yet polite smile as he smiles back and nods to show his understanding.

Dobby the house elf clicked his finger towards the grand, wooden double door to open it revealing an exit point for you, and your parents finally departing away from the Malfoy manor as you Apparate back to your own mansion, located not far from your fiancé's, ending the night in a blur as you quickly try and sleep it off in order to mentally prepare yourself for the dress fitting your mother and your mother in law has so wonderfully booked and plan. After the battle of Hogwarts took place in 1998 you went back to Hogwarts to finish your 7th year around the same time as Hermione Granger did, making sure you have all the qualifications needed to find the best job that the Wizarding World offers, even if a job isn't necessary for you to have because of the amount money your family has inherited over generations. During the battle of Hogwarts, you weren't actually present at all, since Narcissa warns your mother about the secret attack and plans that the Dark Lord schemes for Potter and how dangerous this war is, so she advised your mother to keep you home and not let you return for your 7th year, and although Narcissa isn't supportive of the Dark Lord at all she is supportive of her Husband and Son, so she has to be present there, but it doesn't mean she can't warn her best friend, your mother, and her family to stay safe and not partake in the war whatsoever and to let it pass you. So that's what your mother and father agreed on doing, keeping you home after explaining the circumstances to you.

Your eyes started to glimmer as salty tears started to fog up your vision, you were distraught by the news and realized that the people you care about over at Hogwarts like your friends and some of the professors who had made a real impact on you might potentially lose their lives over this war. You wanted to help badly, you wanted to be there to protect the ones you care about, but your parents will never allow it as they fear the worst and might end up losing their one and only child, so you slump and cry over it for days in your grand mansion until you've heard the news a week later that most people have survived the war including the Malfoy's and that the Dark Lord was finally conquered. It took a while, but Hogwarts was rebuilt soon after that, and once September rolled back around Hogwarts was ready to bring in young witches and wizards who were ready to embark on their early education, and even welcome those who were not able to finish their last year back with open arms. You studied hard and kept very much focused on all your classes to the point where your NEWT marks show only Outstanding grades all across, simply showering your parents with great pride and joy to have you as their daughter. This time around you sort of hated the idea of leaving school after graduating, Hogwarts was a nicer and much simpler place without some knucklehead like Draco Malfoy running around taunting people or trying to pull your pisser almost every day to annoy and ruin your schooling experience.

You enjoyed your time at Hogwarts without him, but you do tend to wonder if he was alright, or how he's doing or coping after the war. Your mother and father haven't gotten in touch with the Malfoy for a couple of months now as they went into hiding in their own mansion and kept quiet to themselves, laying low in order to keep them from trouble with the Ministry as they potentially find out the ties that the Malfoy family had with the Dark Lord, so for a while, there weren't many connections between the Callahan's and the Malfoy's, a period of time where you enjoyed life as it is because the one person you truly despise and hated is gone from your life, just like you wanted it too.

Taglist : @igncrantbliss @milivanili99 @nighttimemoonlover @el-de-phi

!Click here for part 2!

103 notes · View notes

gaytravelinfo · 1 year

Text

Wyndhurst Manor & Club - Lenox, MA

Wyndhurst Manor & Club | 55 Lee Road, Lenox, MA 01240 | 1-877-781-7125 Perched on a hilltop in Lenox, MA, Wyndhurst Manor & Club is a unique haven for exploration, spectacular views, and tailored experiences in every season. Create memories with family and friends with spectacular cultural attractions, outdoor recreation, local shopping, dining, and historical…

View On WordPress

#Berkshires #Berkshires gay friendly hotels #Berkshires gay wedding venues #Berkshires wedding venues #gay Berkshires #gay Lenox #gay travel blog #gay travel information #Lenox gay friendly resorts #Lenox Massachusetts #Lenox wedding venues #Miraval Spa Lenox #Miraval Spa Wyndhurst Manor #The Berkshires #Wyndhurst Manor #Wyndhurst Manor and Club

1 note · View note

tintagel-or-cockleshells · 6 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

Oh good lord. @kiwiana-writes, @sherryvalli, you don't know what you've unleashed. @clottedcreamfudge does, though. For shame.

So @clottedcreamfudge jokingly told me she was going to come up with some AUs because my wedding was at a very picturesque place. We did not realise that actually an AU would bloom due to my wedding coordinator flippantly mentioning that she's never liked by venue staff.

And... yeah, okay, my wedding coordinator saw me nude about three times getting me ready, it's unlikely to be a man, but to be organised and really good at your job even if it pisses people off? That's an Alex trait.

Without futher ado:

Alex is always happy to help a panicked bride and groom. Or bride and bride. Or groom and groom. Gender isn’t something he fusses over when it comes to those seeking his services, which is about making sure two people enjoy their wedding day. And things were going so well with Sophia and Killian. He’d found himself actually laughing with them, making a genuine connection - right up until Sophia said their big day was booked at Mountchristen Manor. He’s a professional: he doesn’t let his distaste show. But venue staff hate wedding coordinators, and the staff at Mountchristen are worse than most. First there’s Mary, whose idea of a good wedding is full 1950s: receiving line and a polite tea-dance, absolutely no deviation from the norm. Catherine, who’s disorganised and scatty and has forgotten to cue the first dance before. Philip, who’s a stick in the mud and not a fan of plans changing, and Beatrice, best of a bad bunch. But his number one nemesis is Henry.

I am tagging: @cha-melodius, @dumbpeachjuice, @rmd-writes, @welcometololaland, @orchidscript, @celeritas2997, @everwitch-magiks, @cheesecurdsgravyandfries, @three-drink-amy, @indomitable-love and anyone who wants to join!

#wip wednesday

78 notes · View notes

bellaxgiornata · 7 months

Text

Break the Tension [Chapter One "The Arrival"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: When Marci first asked you to be the Maid of Honor at her and Foggy’s wedding, you'd already been forewarned that your old college rival from Columbia, Matthew Murdock, would be Foggy’s Best Man. And while you'd expected a long weekend filled with tension between the pair of you, you hadn't anticipated all of the sexual tension–or the sex.

Warnings/tags: 18+; Enemies to lovers, sexual tension, smut, semi-public sex, light angst

a/n: This is a short series (planned for seven parts) and I just really needed to get the idea out of my head. This is definitely not my usual Matt x Reader dynamic nor the usual cocky Matt in an enemies to lovers fic; you'll see why even more in chapter two. Let's just say Matt needs the smug wiped off his face and I wanted to see him desperate. Feedback is always appreciated! The chapter list can be found here!

Tag list: @mattkinsella @danzer8705

The taxi driver hefted your suitcase out of the trunk of his car, setting it onto the circular gravel driveway beside you with an audible huff of exertion. You watched as he wiped a hand across his forehead, one hand still holding the hanger of your dress high above your head so the white garment bag wouldn't drag along the ground.

“Thank you,” you said, arm already growing tired from holding up your dress.

The man closed the trunk of the taxi, turning around and sending you a friendly smile. “Of course, miss,” he replied. “I hope you have a lovely weekend. Certainly looks like a nice place you’re staying at.”

You laughed lightly in return, wishing the man a good day before he turned and headed back to the driver’s side of the car. Lifting up the handle of your suitcase that you'd brought for the weekend, you turned and focused on the grand building before you. It was easily two levels tall with trails of ivy growing along most of the stone exterior between the numerous large windows. The manor itself was impressive with two wings branching off either side of the main building. The front driveway you were currently standing on led up to a walkway that wound between an impressive garden of hedges and flowers. In the center was a large fountain, and the peaceful sound of the water spewing forth met your ears once the taxi had finally driven off behind you.

The venue was massive, boasting quite an expansive plot of acreage that it was nestled inside–or so Marci had told you during all the wedding planning. A long, winding road encompassed by trees on either side had led up to Fairfield Manor, and not too far behind the manor you'd spotted what looked like a forest when the taxi had pulled up. You were positive if you consumed too much alcohol this weekend and wandered outside past sunset, you'd surely end up lost.

As much as Marci had shown you photos of the place, gushing over it repeatedly to you about how perfect it was for her and Foggy’s wedding, the photos certainly hadn’t done it justice.

Beginning to make your way up to the entrance of the manor, you walked towards the winding path which led through the stunning garden out front, carrying your dress and toting your luggage behind you. Seeing the place in person had left you wondering how Foggy and Marci had afforded this venue for an entire three days. You figured Foggy’s firm must’ve been doing well because Marci’s salary alone couldn't possibly have paid for everything. Though with how extravagant it was, it most certainly screamed Marci.

This weekend the entire bridal party, along with Marci and Foggy’s immediate family, were staying here for the duration of the wedding festivities. Tonight you were practicing the rehearsal for the wedding ceremony here at the venue before heading to a nearby restaurant for the rehearsal dinner. Tomorrow was the big wedding day itself, which meant an early morning start for hair and makeup during breakfast, followed by an incredibly long day and probably a drunken evening. Then on Sunday Marci had scheduled a late morning brunch before everyone departed the manor, allowing a bit more time to visit before the newlyweds left for their honeymoon.

Coming to a stop before the large, ornate wooden door that seemed to tower over you, you released the handle of your luggage long enough to push it open. Immediately you were met with the sound of voices and loud, boisterous laughter coming from a hall to your right as the door swung wide into the foyer. Though as you began to pull your suitcase into the building, still juggling your garment bag in your other hand, your ears picked up on the sound of a familiar voice. One you hadn't heard in a long time.

One that instantly set you on edge.

It was annoying that he was here. Of course you'd expected it–Marci had warned you ahead of time–but actually seeing him again this weekend was going to be another story.

Matthew Murdock. The cocky fuck boy of Columbia who thought he was smarter than you, always going out of his way to show you up and point out your every mistake because one time you had embarrassed him by correcting him in class. He was an asshole, always so irritatingly ethical for a man who slept around without a care for anyone's feelings. Though of course he'd never flirted with you , always choosing to argue with you instead. And when graduation day had come, he'd certainly rubbed it in your face that he'd been top of the class.

Though what he hadn't known was that you'd spent most of your time busting your ass working at a coffee shop just to try to pay what the scholarships wouldn't cover of your tuition while your mother was struggling with a cancer diagnosis. Thankfully she'd gone into remission not long after you'd graduated, but still, Matthew Murdock had made college miserable for you on top of everything you’d had going on. And you'd despised him for it.

So you certainly weren't excited to see him this weekend.

Setting your luggage down and turning back around to close the heavy door after yourself, you forced yourself to take a deep breath and remain calm. You were here for Marci, after all. This weekend was a big moment for her and you were excited and grateful to be a part of everything. She was one of your best friends. And truthfully you'd never had issues with Franklin Nelson. He had at least always been cordial and friendly to you.

So you weren’t going to think about him .

The moment you’d shut the door with a solid thud , you heard your name being excitedly called from behind you. Spinning around with a smile already plastered across your face, you spotted Marci with outstretched arms racing towards you across the foyer. Her short, flowy white dress fluttered around her legs as she nearly jumped on you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“You’re finally here!” she exclaimed. “I was wondering when you’d show up!”

"Sorry, I got caught up at work," you told her, squeezing her just as tightly back the best you could with your dress still in hand. "Had some details to finalize before I was gone for the weekend and you know how Sheridan gets."

Marci pulled away from you, rolling her eyes at the mention of your boss.

"I do, in fact," she answered. "But you're here now so let's not talk about work! Come on, let's get your things to your room. It's almost time for the rehearsal."

Grabbing your luggage handle you followed Marci down the hallway, wheeling your bag behind you in one hand and now no longer as concerned about the garment bag dragging along the floor in your other, your arm tired from holding it above your head for so long already. As the pair of you walked, you could see a group of others that you assumed were the bridal party already congregating about midway down the hall, drinks in their hands and dress clothes on. The sight was a reminder that you’d still have to change quickly before the events of the evening because you hadn’t wanted to stay in the dress slacks and blouse you had worn to work earlier for the duration of the evening.

"I take it I'm the last one to arrive then?" you asked Marci.

The sound of both of your heels clicking along the marble floor echoed around the elaborate hallway as the pair of you walked. Your eyes scanned each painting lining the walls that you passed, noticing each one was a beautiful watercolor of a picturesque scene. Overhead you noticed the ornate chandeliers hanging down, the crystal glinting in the light. Truthfully this place was stunning.

"Yes, but that's alright," Marci answered, waving a hand. "I appreciate that you sent a text as a forewarning though. But," she continued, glancing at you over her shoulder and wincing before she leaned in to whisper, "that also means you're the last to pick a room. So you sort of…don't get to pick."

Shoulders sagging, you shot Marci a flat look. "What's that supposed to mean? Is the heat not working in it or something? Or it's haunted by a hundred year old ghost?"

Marci shook her head, a sheepish smile on her face. "No, it just means the only room left is the one…next to Matt’s," she answered softly.

You came to an abrupt halt, stopping dead in your tracks and closing your eyes. Your first instinct was to turn around and call that taxi back to see if you could catch a ride back to the city. It was bad enough you'd have to be cordial to Matt this weekend, but you certainly did not want to interact with him more than necessary.

But you were here for Marci this weekend, you reminded yourself again. It was only for a few days that you’d be staying here and having to run into him, and then you'd go back to never running into him again in the city. And it would be heaven. Inhaling a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your face as you focused back on Marci.

“I know you both never really got along but–”

"It’s okay," you replied slowly, shaking your head. "So our rooms are next to each other for a few days? Not a big deal," you said, trying to convince yourself just as much as Marci. "Doesn't mean I'll have to talk to him. Or see him. Or anything more than necessary."

"Right," Marci agreed, nodding quickly. "Exactly. You two only need to interact for the wedding and the rehearsal a bit.”

With a sigh you grabbed your luggage, continuing to make your way back down the hall with Marci at your side. But as the pair of you began to pass the group of bridal party members already loudly conversing with Foggy, you heard them call out to Marci, begging her to stay and join them. Attention shifting to the group, your eyes almost instantly landed on Matt standing just beside Foggy. Your jaw clenched at the sight of him, your hand tightening around the handle of your luggage as your back stiffened.

He was dressed in a nice pair of slacks, a white dress shirt with a dark red tie, and a dark suit coat. He'd apparently switched out those black rectangular glasses he always wore in college, exchanging them for some round ones with red lenses. Admittedly they looked good on him, which only annoyed you further. Because of course he'd grown more attractive in the years since you'd last seen him–he even seemed broader and somehow more muscular under that fitted suit coat with the buttons of his dress shirt straining at the seams. Though you had a strong feeling he was probably still the same flirty asshole you remembered him as, maybe even worse now since he could throw around that he had his own law firm. And the stupid smile on his face as his head turned in your direction only irritated you.

"I'll be back in a minute," Marci told the group. She said your name, telling them you'd just arrived. "I was going to show her to her room. Help her get settled first."

"No, that's alright. Go on," you assured her, gesturing your head to the group. "I can find the room on my own. I need to change anyway and then I can join everyone."

"You sure?" Marci asked carefully, focusing back on you.

"Yeah, don't worry about me," you replied.

And that’s when you heard it. Matt saying your name, the sound of it on his lips causing your eyes to narrow as your head turned slowly back towards him. It had been so long since you’d heard him say it, yet it still had your blood boiling almost instantly. The smug smirk that quickly grew on his mouth wasn't helping, either.

"Showing up late?” Matt teased you. “Even after all these years, you still need to make everyone wait on you?”

You bit back the comment forming on your tongue. This was not the time nor the place and you certainly weren’t going to let him openly get a rise out of you in front of everyone. Though it didn’t escape your notice when Foggy nudged Matt’s shoulder, leaning in and whispering something to him.

“Some of us had work to finish, Murdock ,” you countered briskly. Turning your attention back to Marci, you told her, “I’ll get changed fast and be right out. I won’t keep you waiting on me.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand,” Marci told you, shooting Matt a glare that you know Foggy saw. “We’ll be here a bit longer before we head down to the ceremony location out in the courtyard. And your room is just at the end of the hall,” she continued, pointing down the hallway. “Room twelve. On the right.”

You thanked her before continuing the rest of the way towards your room, fuming internally because you’d been here a matter of minutes and Matt was already getting under your skin. It didn’t bode well for the rest of this weekend.

You stood with your arms crossed over your chest and your focus fixed straight ahead on the wedding coordinator who was currently running over details about tomorrow’s ceremony with Foggy and Marci. The rest of the bridal party had been paired and lined up at the back of the courtyard behind you, all of you patiently awaiting instructions on what to do next.

There was a lot of chatter coming from the group behind you, too. All of the other bridal party members were taking the time to get to know their partners, animatedly talking to each other. Unfortunately you being the Maid of Honor when Matt was the Best Man meant you two were stuck together for the wedding events this weekend. Currently you were doing your best to ignore his irksome presence beside you as he continued to tap his cane against the stone pavement, the repetitive sound causing you to grind your teeth back and forth. It didn’t help that you were forced to stand so close to him that you could feel the warmth of his body along your bare right arm, the heat of it raising goosebumps. But it was only because it was early fall and a little chilly outside; you couldn’t help it that the bit of warmth happened to feel good.

“So are you just planning to ignore me the entire weekend?” Matt asked softly, leaning slightly towards you as he spoke.

“I would prefer to, yes,” you answered simply.

Matt laughed bitterly, shaking his head. The gesture caught your attention and you glanced at him beside you through narrowed eyes.

“What?” you asked him.

“Just can’t believe you haven’t changed after all these years,” he replied.

Eyebrows shooting up onto your forehead at his comment, you gaped at him. Was he serious ?

“That’s funny coming from the self-important asshole who upon hearing I’m here decides to immediately make a rude comment,” you shot back. “Pretty sure you haven’t changed one bit, Murdock.”

“And you’re apparently still stuck on using my last name,” he quipped back, his head turning towards you as that smirk you hated tugged at his lips. “Why is that, I wonder?”

He leaned over just a bit, his mouth gradually lowering beside your ear. You felt a shiver run up your spine when his warm breath grazed your neck. You told yourself it was due to the chill of the evening and not whatever effect he thought he had on you.

“Is it because you’ve always been afraid that you might actually enjoy saying my name? That you might like the taste of it on your tongue, sweetheart?” he purred in your ear.

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed back, your hard stare focused ahead of you once again. “I’m not like those other women, Murdock. Don’t use that patronizing pet name of yours to lump me in with everyone else that bullshit works on. Because your so-called ‘charm’ doesn’t work on me.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, straightening back up beside you. “You sure it doesn’t?”

A second later you felt his fingertips lightly brush against your thigh, grazing your skin just beneath the hem of your dress. You sucked in a breath and held it, your eyes falling shut at the warmth of his calloused touch. Matt had never flirted with you before–and he’d certainly never touched you before. You’d only ever seen him try to work his charm on other women, so what the hell was he doing right now? Was he actually interested in you?

Though when he chuckled softly beside you, your eyes immediately flew open again. Your heart began to pound hard in agitation as opposed to whatever it was that had sped it up a moment ago. Because the cocky asshole had done that on purpose . He was fucking with you, just like he’d always done in college. Except this time it felt significantly more embarrassing because, for the briefest of moments, it had felt good when he’d touched you.

“Seems like it might, sweetheart,” he whispered back.

“Use my name if you have a need to speak with me, Murdock,” you ground out between clenched teeth, your cheeks heating. “Though I’d prefer if we kept our interactions limited this weekend so we don’t ruin things for Marci and Foggy.”

“Oh you’ve grown so much more bossy ,” Matt teased in delight. “That makes ignoring what you want that much more fun, sweetheart.”

As the wedding coordinator began to make her way back towards the bridal party still lined up, you expelled a sharp breath from your nose. Your hands balled into fists as you hugged your arms tighter over your chest, your nails biting into your palms. This weekend was going to be far worse than you’d imagined. Initially you’d hoped that Matt had grown up since graduation, willing to let whatever it was that made him a prick to you go for a few days for the sake of his best friend’s wedding.

But instead he was still so… Matthew Murdock . Had he really not grown since college? Matured into an actual adult? Why the hell was he like this? Because you’d only ever seen him treat you this way, and it was infuriating.

“Alright ladies and gentleman,” the wedding coordinator announced.

Stopping just a few feet before you and Matt, she clapped her hands together to quiet the group. A smile spread across her mouth when the chatter came to a stop and you placed all of your focus on her and not Matt, though you could see that smug smile on his lips out of the corner of your eye.

“You’ll be starting the processional inside, just past those doors behind you, for the actual ceremony tomorrow,” she continued, gesturing to the French doors you’d all come out of a few minutes ago before lining up. “But for the sake of time we’ll start out here. You’ll be paired up with whomever you’re walking down the aisle with, moving one at a time down the aisle that’ll be here tomorrow when the chairs are set up. Then the pair of you part before the stone steps for the ceremony just there,” she said, turning at the waist and pointing to where Foggy was already standing and looking nervous. “Once the couple before you parts, the next one proceeds down the aisle. So let’s practice that for now, shall we?”

The woman had turned, making to get out of the way of the line for the processional, but then her eyes caught you and Matt standing beside each other. Her brows creased as she abruptly came to a stop, turning back around and pointing a finger between the pair of you.

“You two–Best Man and Maid of Honor–you need to link arms while you walk down the aisle,” she said. “Go on, just like the others behind you.”

At her comment, Matt’s arm rose up beside you, brushing against your own arm as he offered it out to you. You looked over at it, your lip pulling back in slight distaste. You did not want to have him escort you down the aisle now or tomorrow. And that sentiment was made all the more true when your gaze slid up, noticing Matt was smiling down at you in sheer amusement. He was clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Matt urged. “Let me escort you.”

Rolling your eyes in annoyance, you slipped your arm through his before grabbing onto his bicep. But as soon as your fingers lightly curled around his suit coat, you could feel the thick muscle of his arm beneath your hand. Swallowing hard, you pushed that observation as far from your mind as you could. It wasn’t a fact you needed to remember about him.

But as the pair of you began to make your way towards the stone steps where the ceremony would take place tomorrow, Matt’s cane lightly tapping along the stone as you led him there, you couldn’t help but notice his head had turned a bit towards you. And unless your eyes were deceiving you, it looked like he was focused on you behind his red lenses.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock angst #matt murdock #daredevil

319 notes · View notes

violetlunette · 6 months

Text

Horrortober Day 31: “I can make you feel better.”

(Inspired by the ride Phantom Manor)

“You look wonderful, Silver,” Lilia complimented as he helped his son dress for his wedding. “You look like a Prince out of a fairy tale! Are you sure I can’t get you to ride the white stead down the aisle?” Silver felt his face warm at his father’s praise, his heart aflutter at the excitement for this day.

He couldn’t believe this day had finally come. There had been struggles along the way, especially last week when his fiance told him of a job opportunity that would require them to leave Briar Valley. Silver, however, didn’t want to leave his family, so they came to a compromise where they could have both.

“Thank you, father. I hope you’re right; I want to look my best today,” Silver replied, nervously playing with his sleeve. Lilia tutted at his words.

“Do you doubt my judgment?” he said in a mock pout. Then his expression softened. “I can’t believe my little boy is getting married today. It seems like just yesterday you were trick or treating in the woods near our cottage, practicing swordplay… now look at you. All grown up.” His voice started wistful but cracked near the end. Silver instinctively reached out but Lilia stopped him.

“No, no. I’m fine, really,” he assured the other. He wiped a stray tear from his eye before beaming. “I’m proud of you, Silver. You’ve grown to be a fine young man, and I can’t wait to see how your future unfolds.” Silver nodded as butterflies fluttered around his stomach.

“Same here,” he murmured. At this point, there was a knock at the door. “Ah! Come in…” Silver’s voice trailed off when he saw who entered. “Lord Malleus…”

A tall, pale man with eyes of green flame and hair of midnight stepped into the room, ducking so his horns didn’t scratch the door frame. In his hand, he held a tall green bottle of wine.

Lord Malleus was the Lord of Phantom Manor and had been like a brother to Silver all his life. As such, they were quite close. However, there was tension as of late.

When Silver told Malleus that he was getting married, the latter had been furious and even tried to forbid it. It took Silver’s desperate pleas and Lilia's stern scolding to get the other to calm down. Malleus apologized and even offered the mansion as a venue. For a while, it seemed things were fine between the two. However, this past week Malleus had been distant and closed off.

Silver shifted on his feet, like a small child, as his eyes darted away. Had Malleus come to try and talk him out of the wedding again? Or something else?

Lilia seemed just as suspicious as his eyes narrowed at the other.

“Malleus…” he said in a low tone as he stepped between the two, warning the other not to start anything. Malleus may have been the Lord of the manor, but Lilia had a great deal of influence as well, having served his family for three generations now and being the power behind the family. Malleus held up a hand.

“I’ve only come to see if Silver needs anything,” he explained calmly. “And to speak with him alone.” Lilia folded his arms.

“Haven’t you had enough ‘talks’ alone?” he scoffed, recalling the many fights and arguments that had occurred, one that nearly got Silver tossed down the stairs.

Malleus glanced away in shame, lips pressed under a frown at the accusation. Silver’s heart went out to the man. Silver knew Malleus wasn’t a violent person, but ever since they opened that gold mine on Dwarf Hills, he had been acting—odd, and far more aggressive. There were even rumors that Malleus had been possessed by an evil spirit. Even Sebek, who was the most loyal supporter of the Lord could not justify or defend all his actions as of late.

Even so, Malleus was still someone very dear to Silver, and he wouldn’t turn him away for any reason.

“It’s okay Father, I don’t mind,” Silver said to Lilia. Seeing Lilia look unsure, he repeated himself, “It’s okay.” Despite how Malleus had been acting, Silver knew him, and he knew that the Lord would never do him any serious harm. The incident on the stairs had been an accident, he was sure of it and had told Lilia just as much. Lilia pressed his lips and then sighed.

“Oh, alright! But hurry; there’s not a lot of time before the wedding starts!” he said, smoothing his green suit out. He then floated up to kiss Silver’s forehead. “I’ll see you later to walk you down the aisle, dear.” Then, after shooting Malleus a look of warning, the fae left.

The silence that soon fell after his departure was thick. Neither were men of words, so neither knew what to say. Finally, Malleus spoke;

“You look beautiful, Silver,” the Lord said softly. Green eyes were glazed over with several emotions as he looked the silver youth over.

Silver forced a smile, his pleasure at the words drowned by a sense of dread that something bad may happen. He pushed the feeling aside. “Thank you.” Malleus stepped forward, and Silver held his breath as the other reached out a hand. Gloved fingers brushed against his temple as Malleus pushed a lock of hair behind his ear.

“Are you anxious?” he asked in monotone. Silver nodded, swallowing a gulp as his senses screamed at him.

“A little,” he admitted, telling himself that the emotions he was feeling were wedding jitters and had nothing to do with his Lord. “It is my wedding day, after all. My whole life’s gonna change after this.” At the reminder Mallus’ face became as hard as stone, his body just as tense.

“Yes. You’re right,” he said, voice tight. Then his voice shifted, becoming distant. “After today, everything will change.” Silver stiffened at his words, which sounded more like a threat than a thought said aloud.

“Lord Malleus?” But before he could question the man, Malleus turned away.

“I can make you feel better.” As he said this, he held up the bottle he brought in his hand. Malleus didn’t drink, nor did anyone else who lived in the manor, but Malleus kept some liquor for guests and parties.

“I...I don’t think I should,” Silver said, feeling uneasy, his palm sweaty. “The wedding will start soon…”

“One glass won’t hurt. In fact, it’ll help calm your nerves,” Malleus insisted. “Besides, this is a way for me to apologize… for everything.” His eyes drifted to the side at this, and his grip tightened on the bottle. Seeing his anguished features, Silver ignored the warning bells in his head and nodded stiffly.

“Alright,” he agreed. “One glass should be fine.” Malleus hummed.

“One sip will be all it takes.” The Lord poured two glasses of wine, which reminded Silver of freshly spilled blood, a sight he witnessed as a child due to a mistake during sword training. Malleus had bandaged him that day. Despite the rough time they’ve had since Malleus started working in the mine, Malleus had looked after Silver his whole life. He would never do him harm.

Silver took the offered cup, and Malleus held his own above his head.

“To your—new life,” he toasted. Silver nodded and thanked him before gulping the cup, his nerves getting the best of him.

At first, he felt fine. Though the taste was off and tasted of iron and something else--

Silver stumbled into the tray beside him, spilling the contents. His world became hazy as he tried to steady himself. His breathing became hard as his throat tightened like something was strangling him.

‘What in the world…?’ “Malleus…?” Silver’s legs gave out and he fell forward. Two strong arms caught him before encircling him in a tight grip.

“I’m sorry,” Malleus' voice said softly into his ear as he stroked the moonlight hair. “But I won’t let you leave me. Not now, not ever.” Silver’s head fell against Malleus' chest.

“Malleus...” Darkness overtook Silver.

The last sound he heard was Malleus’ heartbeat.

44 notes · View notes