#and tbh that is actually one of the reasons why i enjoy reading him sometimes lol

[ravenkings]

i think one of the reasons that a lot of discourse about ~problematic~ or ~uncomfortable~ art sails straight over my head is that i actually enjoy it when the creator of a work of art makes it very clear that they actively hate you and are trying to make you feel bad 🤷‍♀️

[obbystars]

Hello! I was amaze by your sabastian x reader fic especially "it's you!" in the flash back part where sebastian where still alive and talking with reader abt going on an aquarium date soooo I want to request the part where they actually having a date at the aquarium they were talking about? That would would be so cute if you ask me!thank u! c:

(You know what they say. All toasters toast toast!)

(AQUARIUM DATE AQUARIUM DATE AQUARIUM DATE AQUARIUM- sorry. ANYWAY TOTALLYYYY I have been thinking about it lately tbh and I guess this request is kinda a push and my brain is like “OKAY LETS GO IT!” I’m glad you’re liking the fics I’ve been making! I hope you all know I giggle like a maniac whenever you guys say you like them, makes me so happy :)))

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / AQUARIUM DATEEEEE i’ll stop / takes place before the events of Pressure / FLUFFFFFFF / Connected to both It’s You! and Drown in the Deep, can be read as a standalone / Reader and Sebastian are both still in college / Angst because I couldn’t resist / Fairly short, sorry :(

“You are so lucky my sister let us borrow her car,”

You lightly batted his arm with a laugh, “You say that like it’s a bad thing,”

“Because she’ll kill me if this thing even gets a small scratch!”

“Mmhmm, and who was the one who offered to drive us there?”

Sebastian gives you a quick glance, but you still noticed the look he gave, “She wouldn’t even be mad at you if you were driving. She adores you for some reason,”

Your eyes widened, “…wait, really?”

“Yeah, last time we spoke, she would not stop asking me about you and when you two can meet up to talk more,”

Well, you made one hell of a first impression. You’re glad she does at least like you and is looking forward to meeting with you again. You feel kind of flattered and relieved.

“So,” you turn to him, “Why can’t I drive?”

“Because I don’t trust you behind the wheel,”

You stifled a laugh as you turned your attention towards the window. You decided to change the subject.

“You know, I’d love to meet your family again. Classes are a pain though. Maybe when we head back, I could stay for dinner? I don’t have that much work piled up on me right now,”

Though faint, you can see him smiling, “I know my sister will be overjoyed to see you. I think my mom likes you too, she never gave me a clear answer on it though,”

Your face drops slightly. Now the pressure’s on. You didn’t exactly talk to his mom last time you were there besides the introduction part of it. As for his brother, you didn’t get a chance to talk to him which made you assume he was shy. You do remember spotting him and his sister eavesdropping on you and Sebastian. He also caught them and wasn’t very happy about it.

When you two finally arrived and were allowed to go in, Sebastian practically had to hold you so you wouldn’t run off due to being so excited. Sometimes he’d keep you in place, other times he’d let you drag him. When looking at the brochure, you were especially excited about the fish that often liked the dark. He still doesn’t see why, but you’re having fun and he’s been enjoying the time here.

“Oh! Sebastian, look!” You exclaimed, “A mantis shrimp!”

The mantis shrimp was just hiding in its little cave.

“It’s a freaky looking thing,” he laughed.

“It is. I heard that they’re capable of tuning the sensitivity of their vision to adapt to their environment. Isn’t that so cool?”

“What I would give to have something like that…”

“I know!” You smiled, “I kinda wish they had anglerfish though. I heard they’re just generally hard to manage, so you never see them in aquariums,”

Sebastian stands up straight and looks at you, “Aren’t those the fish with the light on their head?”

“Yeah. Only the females have it, and it’s used to attract both prey and a mate. They’ve got a freaky way to reproduce, if you want to hear,”

You see him think about it for a minute.

“I’ll bite. How do they reproduce?”

It’s safe to say Sebastian will never ask a question like that again if the sentence prior was “They’ve got a freaky way to reproduce.” What he heard was not what he expected at all. It was parasitic and the image in his head definitely wasn’t pretty.

You continued to tell him fun little facts of a few of the fish you saw. He mostly only responded with a hum or an “oh yeah” but you still continued. He never stopped you as it looked like you were having a lot of fun.

When you got to the long tunnel with the fish swimming around, you both decided to rest there for a bit. It’s been a few hours anyway, plus it’ll be nice to just watch the fish swim by. There were turtles, stingrays, and many others some you could name while others were unfamiliar. There was even a few sea urchin sitting in one of the corners.

You were about to say something until you turned to Sebastian and took a good look at his expression. You smiled and said nothing as you leaned your back against the glass, following where his gaze was. You wonder if this is what he saw in his dream on the night you two discussed on coming here. Drifting in the water as the fish swam around you, you wonder if he felt cold. He said he didn’t feel like he was drowning, so maybe he actually felt warm.

But when you asked if it was a nightmare, he alluded to it. You wonder what he saw… Or maybe he didn’t see anything. Maybe that’s why it was a nightmare, or at least close to it. The dark abyss is a terrifying place as not a lot is known due to the water pressure and the lack of light. Fear of the unknown, so to say.

Your smile faded slightly. You turn to him and lightly give him a shoulder bump.

“Hey, you having fun?”

He continued to stare up at the fish for a moment before turning to you, “If I wasn’t, you’d know. Why? Are you not having fun?” He teased.

“No, I was just making sure,” you laughed.

“To be honest, it gets a bit interesting when you start to nerd out about some of the fish here,” he then smiles, “But I didn’t think you were THAT much of a nerd,”

“Aha-! Yeah, I may or may have not been watching a lot of videos about fish…”

“You were that excited about this, huh? Were you also trying to impress me?”

“No! Not at all!” You paused, “M-Maybe a little..”

Sebastian laughed when you admitted it, then stands up, “We should keep moving. Aren’t the sharks just up ahead?”

“Oh yeah,” you take out the brochure, “It looks like we’re almost done too. We haven’t had lunch yet either. You hungry?”

“A little. Didn’t we pass the food court already?”

“We did… How about we go back and grab something then?”

“As long as you’re paying,”

“Ugh! Fine,”

Sebastian grabbed your hand and pulled you up to your feet. He didn’t let go as you two walked down the hall. You perked up and decided to throw another factoid at him.

“Hey, did you know you can really just redirect a shark by just setting your hand on their nose and gently pushing them the other way?”

He looks at you, not exactly believing you, “It can’t be THAT easy,”

“I’m serious! It is that easy! Maybe it’ll be harder when it’s a great white shark though,”

“Obviously, those things are massive,”

You continued to talk about sharks with him until you two made it back to the food court. Sebastian ended up paying for your food as long as you paid for his.

Sebastian stares out into the dark abyss beyond the glass. It was usually empty, but sometimes the many-eyed shark was there. And sometimes she’d notice him. He wondered if she recognized him as the one who freed her. He wondered why she stayed when freedom was right there for her. Revenge, perhaps? That he can understand. What he was doing was for the same reason.

Just then, he sees a familiar green glow of the shark passing by. She was close enough to notice him, and for a second, she did look at him. She never really stayed around, nor has he ever heard her speak in his head. He remembers how you spoke of sharks all those years ago. He wondered if you’d think she was a beautiful shark despite what they’ve done to her.

Unexpectedly, she lingers around for a while. He doesn’t pay her any mind as she swims back and forth, occasionally looking at him. He continues to just stare out the window, looking at nothing in particular.

How would you react to him? Would you even recognize him? Remember his voice? Ten years is a long time, after all. Though, he doubts there is even the smallest chance you two could meet, let alone in this facility. He hoped not.

It’s quiet.

He never thought he’d hate silence. It was almost never quiet when you were with him. You always had something to tell him, no matter how small it may have been, and he’d always listen. Even when you don’t think he’s listening, he was. No matter how long you went on and on about something, he was always listening.

Even if he were to be freed from this place, what then? What home does he have to return to?

[captainuranium543]

Ft headcanons nobody wanted part 2

-natsu will occasionally get genuinely jealous over his friends owning appliances for heating. Why should they need those things when they have him, if they just call him over her do a way better job then any of those stupid gadgets. He finds out gray owns a hair dryer and immediately becomes a jealous ex girlfriend. He confronts Lucy in her apartment one night acting so serious he she doesn't even get mad that he broke in, then just goes "care to explain this?" And puts a lighter on the table.

- Wendy is very very quiet. Creepily so. Not elaborating but I think you can imagine the kinds of situations this leads to.

- Mira's eyes glow in the dark and it creeps everyone the fuck out

- erza has the worst hoarding problem. Her dorm room is entirely piled floor to ceiling with boxes of meticulously organized random items she refuses to throw out for some reason

young Mira: "alright this is ridiculous why do you even have this"

Young erza: "say what you want but when you need 746 packets of Mcnolias sweet and sour sauce and find your supply baron I'll be laughing"

- levy is one of the few members of the guild who actively sought it out to join. Before fairy tail she was an orphan and a student studying magic. She left to join fairy tail to learn more about magic in general from real world experience.

- laki will sometimes build creepily realistic wooden statues of her guild mates and leave them around in inconspicuous places so when you find them they scare the shit out of you. Sometimes she hides them too well and it takes years to discover them.

- Lucy has actually written several unpublished novels and the only other person who's ever seen them is levy. Lucy thinks their crap but levy carefully annotates every single one.

- laxus used to occasionally be forced to go on jobs with erza and Mira when they were young both to help and to make sure they didn't kill each other and he hated it.

- I think I might have said this before but I firmly believe levy, Lucy, freed and jellal later on all form a book club because they love reading, the problem is they all have vastly different tastes in book so they can never decide what to read each week and usually just end up playing Scrabble and talking shit about their various teammates

"please guys trust me this one's good"

"I am NOT reading Colleen Hoover Lucy and that's final"

- this one's based on city hero but I personally believe erza and Erik find a shocking common ground over motorcycles. Erza likes vehicles in general and Erik took up bike racing as a hobby, since discovering this is the longest they've been able to be in the same room together without someone throwing a punch.

- Wendy visits lamia scale regularly still to hang out with chelia. she usually brings romeo and they all go out to do whatever dumb kid stuff they want. (Tbh I just like her having friends her own age)

-lucy sometimes randomly lets her rich girl's heritage show in random conversation and it's always jarring. You'll be having a normal chill convo with her and then she'll look you dead in the eyes and ask you what colour your personal carriage was growing up.

- Natsu is genuinely a really good cook he just has a terrible taste so nobody wants to eat his food. For reference he only ever cooks his food because he enjoys doing it to him it tastes fine either way.

- if you had asked the fairy tail guild who the scariest guild member was in early season 1 the answers would have been erza, guildarts, laxus etc all the usual suspects. Once season 2 starts however the answer is unanimous. It's juvia. Juvia is fucking terrifying when she gets mad. You don't realize how scary water can be until it's filling your lungs and as your vision blurs until all you can see is her merciless stare.

- Mira and freed can drink blood for demon reasons. gray can too after getting devil slayer but he thinks its gross. Surprisingly so can gajeel because of the high iron content.

- gray the type of guy who's bed has only the smallest thinnest blanket on his bed and usually it's on the ground cuz he gets too hot

- meanwhile erza is the type of girl to have so many pillows, blankets and plushies on her bed you wonder how she fucking sleeps in it. Mf has a NEST.

- Lucy isn't even surprised anymore when she finds people in her house, she doesn't know how they keep getting in and honestly she doesn't care anymore she's to tired to deal with it.

- freed plays a lot of really fucking weird instruments. Idk it just seems like something he would do.

- bixlow can speak most languages and it's always really surprising when he randomly says smth like "oh yea I can speak ancient nirvid no prob" like that's totally normal

- if laxus and freed ever did get together (in my heart it's cannon) evergreen and bixlow would be their biggest haters. Yea they love them and they're happy for them but also EW. GROSS. GET A ROOM.

[ventique18]

Malleus book recommendations (⚠️ Warning: Adult novels)

Are you a MalleYuu simp? Are you tired of their endless pining that never goes anywhere? Are you frustrated and just want the Yuu♀️ to bed the Malleus? Well you're in luck because I've sacrificed my sanity to comb through heaps of trash just to feed my brethren's delusions!

If your fave is his temper tantrum: Rurik - The WitchSlayer. This is only one book, but very cute and satisfying. Not very heavy on the plot; more on a fantasy slice of life between a dragon shifter and a sweet part-dragon witch.

If your favorite is the playful in Malleus: Rhysand - A Court of Thorns and Roses Series. Note: Do not stop reading until you get to Book 2, at least. It's the actual start of the series.

If you like both Malleus and Silver and want to merge them into one person: Creon - Fae Isles Series. IMO the best out of all of them.

If you like Evil Malleus: Valroy - Maze of Shadows Series. From the most well-written book out of all of them, but requires the most open mind. This is a dark novel with an evil hero. When I say evil, he is EVIL.

Some rankings below:

Note that all of these are personal preferences.

Ranking the best boys:

1. CREON (Fae Isles). He's THE best hero out of all romance books I've read so far. He's complex. He's devilish. He's thoughtful. He has a unique feature about him that no one else possesses. You'll understand.

2. Rurik (The WitchSlayer). He's annoying, has a bad temper, grumpy most of the time, but he's very cute. He's a literal dragon. He's also smart and actually thinks things through to actively resolve misunderstandings because he understands that feelings can muddle the truth.

3. Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses). He's perfect. That's all. Sometimes a bit too perfect, but he's much better than many fictional male leads.

4. Valroy (Maze of Shadows). This does not mean he stinks. He's literally just extremely evil, which in itself makes him very interesting and better than most cookie cutter heroes.

All of them are great characters. They're the main reasons why you would read these novels.

Ranking the stories:

1. Fae Isles. Its magic system is unique. A lot of it is unique. Just excellent all around and definitely my favorite.

2. Maze of Shadows. DARK romance. Toxic. But very interesting and a refreshing read for those who have the strength to stomach it and remind themselves that this is only fiction.

3. The WitchSlayer. Just a one-shot so you can't expect much, but its pacing is unique in that the conflict resolves fairly early, leaving enough room to tackle what happens after the big bad evil has been defeated. It also has a cute epilogue! Definitely read this if you only have time for one of these. You won't regret the sweet dragon moments, both in his tiny form and his giant form.

4. A Court of Thorns and Roses. I generally just enjoyed it for Rhysand tbh.

Do you know other stories with Malleus clones? Let me know because I need it 👀

[bunnwich]

Say Bunnwhich, I'm kind curious...

What got ya to love Lil Lion Leona in the 1st place? :3

WHY DO I LIKE LEONA???

Sorry for the long yap as usual but, I feel like every once in a while ppl ask me this very question and I feel like I have been in twst hell for so long it’s like ancient history now. VGBHNJMK

TBH I very strongly disliked Leona's character when he came on screen when I first started to play twst. I found Chapter 2 to be very flat compared to Chapter 1 and I had very little sympathy for him and his backstory. To me, it was clear he was just the "hot, brooding character" archetype and I had no interest in him whatsoever.

HOWEVER, when I became more active in the fandom, my friend @comingyourlugubriousness and others began to ship my Yuu with him as a joke bc of my said dislike. And, yeah I begin to write lil scenarios where they’d interact and challenged myself to make a logical way he would even be interested in my Yuu in the first place? 

THAT GOT ME THINKING and I saw how he used to be characterized in fics and stuff and I really just didn't agree??? Even to this day, I feel like some ppl go in two extremes with him. 1.) Where they wash down his personality in order for him to fit in into this “prince charming role" OR 2.) They make him the worst bastard ever, which can lead into certian problematic connotations.

When I went to write my own fics I had watched all of his vignettes and understood better what his true personality is. The main story does not do much to make him likable to a general audience sometimes IMO. And so I became interested in how and why so many ppl interpret his character so wrong?? (My opinion ofc)

And so my journey began as prob one of the biggest Leona apologists ever.

To answer the question better I guess. What do I LIKE about him?

I like him bc in order to enjoy him you really have to read between the lines and do your own work as a fan to find the intriguing parts of him! It's just fun!

I actually find him very relatable, his burnout and seemingly ultra competitive but still “work smarter” not harder attitude is something I gel with and feels very realistic for someone his age.

YES, I think his design is nice but honestly it's the least interesting thing about him to me. I will always enjoy long hair on men that's no secret. According to some friends I "have a type” but eh.

I like that he uses his sorta rude and grumpy ruse to scare ppl off. I  personally subscribe to the idea that underneath all that sass he's just a lil cantankerous grandpa stuck in a  20 year old’s body, who likes to yap about chess and dead languages. 

He’s a nerd and likes books.

He's a true hater. 💚

I feel like he'd never judge your appearance, for eating too much or being lazy.

I feel like he's a caretaker and would always look out for you.

I think he'd be a good teacher and big brother and a lot of his more amiable qualities remind me of my own S/O who is so, so smart and charismatic and who I love very much! 

I say "I think/feel" on a lot of this bc TBH the headcanons I have made for him over my time in the fandom are probably 80% the reason I like him, yk?

SO, if I had to sum it up that probably why! I could say more but I’ll spare ya’ll. 💚💚💚

[juyeonszn]

REFLECTIONS

PAIRING jacob bae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.07k

GENRES smut lol

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, fawn writing about jacob bae yet again but i swear this time was necessary!!!, porn without plot but also if u squint there’s a little bit of plot, roommates/best friends with mutual pining, i mixed so many tropes in here tbh, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (pls be safe), mirror sex, soft? dom!jacob, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY the two times jacob bae derails your saturday night plans.

MORE FAWNTOBER DAY 2 IS A GOOOOO 😈 i’m actually doing pretty well timing wise and as far as im concerned, i’ll actually pull this thing off 😭 anyways.. enjoy!! pls remember to reblog if u liked what u read! and stay tuned for the rest of the fics coming out this month <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble

If it were up to you, you would just stay home for the evening. You’d kick your feet up into the ottoman and put on a random movie, latched onto Jacob’s side like a little leech. You were lucky your roommate was just as much of a cuddler as you were. It’d be kind of awkward if he wasn’t.

Unfortunately, your Saturday night plans would have to be postponed.

“It’s gonna be fun, N/N, I promise,” he tries to convince you, hands clasped together. “Sangyeon even said he’d pay your tab.”

“But I’m tired, Cobie,” you pout, knowing full well that your puppy dog eyes would always be his weakness, even if he’d never admit it to himself. “I don’t wanna go out tonight.”

He must’ve really been looking forward to going out and meeting up with the guys if not even your guilt-tripping face worked on him. He goes off on a tangent about how you always stay in, and despite loving that to an extent, sometimes he wants to enjoy a night out. You were still confused as to why he didn’t just go by himself. Why did he have to bring you along with him?

It’s not like you were dating or anything. You were just roommates. Really close roommates. Roommates who cuddled every other night. Roommates who often found themselves sleeping in the other’s bed rather than their own. Roommates who were so undeniably attracted to each other but masked it by pretending they weren’t.

Couldn’t you have been sucked into a different trope?

“I just think you’re not giving the idea enough credit,” he raises his hands in surrender. “Besides, wouldn’t you feel left out? Wouldn’t you get major FOMO?”

You sigh. He had a point. Even if you didn’t really want to go clubbing, knowing all of your friends were there without you would make you sad. Imposter syndrome came way too easily for you. “Fine, I guess I’ll go.”

Jacob fist bumps the air, dragging you from the couch to your bedroom so you could start getting ready. He knows you take a while and the arranged meet up time was two hours from the current time. You move as quickly as you can, because even if you were only interested half heartedly, you didn’t want to be late. Especially because Jacob had a knack for constantly being punctual.

You kiss your teeth as you stare at your closet after you’ve finished showering and doing your hair and makeup. You felt like there was nothing good enough to wear. This wasn’t just a bar that you usually frequented, so you couldn’t dress casually. But it also wasn’t so fancy that you had to go over the top either. And for some reason, none of your clothes could fall into the perfect in-between category.

There was one dress.

You hadn’t worn it in a while, mostly because you never found the occasion to and it brought bad memories. It was a confidence booster, that was for sure. A tight black dress that stopped just below your ass and showed the perfect amount of cleavage. The moment you put it on, it’s like you’re a new person.

Staring back at you is someone you haven’t seen in a couple years, someone you shoved into the recesses of your subconscious. She used to party every night until she was black out drunk, making out and sleeping with random strangers until she was satisfied. She was stuck in a loop until she became friends with Jacob Bae, eventually moving in to get away from that lifestyle.

You never tell him how grateful you are. Part of you wishes to keep your past buried, hidden from the light of day so you never have to face your mistakes again. But at the same time, you could never tell him thank you enough. For saving you in a way, for helping you close that chapter of your life.

There’s a knock at your door, and you call out a “Come in” before your brain catches up with you. You make eye contact with Jacob in the mirror, watching his expression shift slightly. It wouldn’t have been noticeable if you were anyone else, but you knew him almost as well as you knew yourself. Maybe better.

He walks up behind you, brushing your hair behind your shoulder with a featherlight touch. “I haven’t seen this one on you in a long time.”

He’s so close to you, it’s kind of driving you crazy. You bite the inside of your lip, trying to keep your voice steady. “Should I wear it?”

His fingers start at your waist, trailing down to the hem of your dress. His knuckles skim across the bare skin of your exposed thigh, provoking your body to shudder. “Hmm, I’m not too sure,” Jacob rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror. “Seeing you in this is making me rethink going out tonight. Kinda wanna keep you here, all to myself, like that night at Hyunjae’s party.”

Okay, so perhaps you might’ve skipped a tiny detail in the retelling of your first encounter with Jacob Bae.

The reason you two became friends was because he actually happened to be one of those random strangers you slept with. It was a stroke of luck that you kept in contact with him after that night, considering he was supposed to be nothing more than a nameless face. But he was cute and he was funny, so when he asked to hang out a few days later you couldn’t help but cave in.

“Jacob…” You breathe, chest rising and falling rapidly. “D-Don’t you wanna see the boys?”

His lips press to the juncture between your neck and collarbone, a soft kiss that already packs your head with cotton. He hums into your skin, hands bunching up your dress around your hips. Someone was impatient. “Not important. We can reschedule.”

You didn’t want to reschedule. You wanted to get out of this apartment, fully clothed, with an excuse to ignore the hammering of your heart in your rib cage and the fluttering down there. If you stayed here any longer, Jacob would successfully charm his way into your pants. (Dress?) And you didn’t want to think about the consequences that may come with.

But it’s not like he gives you much of a choice, invading your headspace with every nip and suck of your jugular and jaw. His slender fingers run a line down the front of your panties, a small groan leaving the back of his throat when he feels how wet you are for him. With heavy eyelids, you watch the entire thing in the mirror, lips parting with a gasp at the sight.

“Fuck, baby,” he curses in your ear, pulling you backward so the two of you are sitting on the edge of your bed, still facing your mirror. “You want me just as bad don’t you?”

You whine, squirming as he dips his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, collecting your slick and smearing it all over your lower lips. He helps you shimmy out of your panties and dress, leaving you completely nude for him. His fingers resume their previous activities, easily pumping the ring and middle digits in and out of your cunt. His free hand grips your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on his movements.

“Cobie,” you whimper, spreading your legs wider to give both of you a better view. “Feels so good…”

His thumb circles your clit, mouth beside your ear to whisper all the filthy things he wants to do to you. Your toes curl at the same time his fingers do, brushing that sweet spot in your pussy. A strangled moan escapes you as you hit your climax, walls tightening around his fingers and back arching into his chest.

“That was so hot. You did so well for me,” he praises, thumb rubbing lazy patterns into your clit to bring you back down. “I just need you to do that on my cock. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod, hands reaching behind yourself to free him from his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper in your haste. “Need you inside of me already.”

You hope Jacob doesn’t have high expectations for you since you came so quickly with just his fingers. You’re not sure if he’s anticipating you to last longer with his cock. From what you remember, he wasn’t the longest, but he was definitely the thickest, and that’s what scared you the most. You were afraid of how full he’d make you feel.

Once the clothes from his bottom half are removed, you risk a glance at his dick in the mirror, your pussy clenching around nothing. Despite not knowing if you’d be able to take him without turning into a blubbering mess, you really wanted to try. You wanted him to fill you up like a plug in a bathtub drain.

He takes his girth in one hand, sliding his dick through your folds languidly, lubricating himself with the wetness of your cunt. He groans in your ear again, squeezing your hip to steel himself. “You ready for me?”

Your head bobs up and down quickly, patience wearing thin. He chuckles before impaling you on his cock, both of you moaning from the feeling of one another. The stretch burns, but it’s fucking heavenly, your pussy feeling so stuffed you can barely think. (Not that your thoughts were coherent beforehand anyway.)

“You’re— oh god, Jacob— you’re s-so deep,” you mewl, hands supporting yourself on his thighs. “I feel so full.”

He keeps his grip on your waist, fucking up into you as slowly as he can as to not disrupt your adjustment to his cock. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, lips parted with a gasp every time he thrusts into your tight pussy. He shakes his head, urging you to stay upright.

“I need you to keep your eyes on the mirror, baby. Watch me fuck you until you can��t take it anymore.” Jacob commands, voice as deep as his dick inside of you.

You comply, hooded eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when you take in the sight of him bouncing you on his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, lip splitting from the force in which you’re biting it. He looks so hot, focused on getting you both to that peak you desperately need to reach.

It’s such a stark contrast to the sweet Jacob Bae you’re used to, this one pounding into you without mercy, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. That first time you had sex, years ago, was pretty vanilla thanks to you both having a little too much to drink that night. You don’t even think you remembered most of it. Had you known he was such a freak, maybe you wouldn’t have pretended your attraction to him was nonexistent. Maybe this would’ve happened a lot sooner.

You don’t dwell on that regret much longer, Jacob yanking your attention back in by rubbing your clit with his middle finger. The amount of overstimulation fogs your vision, voluminous, pornographic level moans reverberating around the room. The words bubbling past your lips don’t make any sense, reduced to babbling until an encouragement is uttered into your ear.

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,”

A cry is ripped from your vocal cords, your body writhing above him and continuing even after he’s orgasmed inside of you, fucking his cum into your cunt as he calms you down. You whimper when he grasps your jaw once more, egging you on to stare at the mixture of your cum running down your legs.

You both look absolutely feral, skin sticky with sweat and chests heaving up and down as if you’d ran a marathon. Jacob makes no move to pull out, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck, back and shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut as a wave of exhaustion rushes over you.

“I think you’re pretty close to succeeding in your mission,” you say hoarsely. “I can hardly function right now.”

He laughs, such a melodic sound it almost doesn’t belong in your current setting. “Yeah? Do you wanna help me pass it?”

And in spite of being on the brink of passing out, who are you to deny such a promising offer?

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[torialefay]

Be it by astrology, your own opinion, or a mixture of both, how do you think Chris would react if his s/o has his brand or a dupe of his brand of jealousy?

This has been on my mind for days like would he enjoy knowing that his s/o craves his attention (bc i doubt he wouldn't pick up on how they feel) or would he find it lowkey annoying and/or frustrating thinking that they don't trust him(they probably do, but the brain do be insecure like that sometimes)? Would he purposely try to make them jealous from time to time bc he liked their reaction? Would he be self-aware of his closeness to others and avoid situations that could worry his s/o? Obviously, there's a limit to the intensity and frequency of how jealous someone can be before anybody would get annoyed, but yknow generally speaking in relatively somewhat reasonable jealousy ensuing situations where he got a bit too close with someone, or he or the other person got a bit too touchy, etc.

Thank ya💖💖

I love this question!!! Before I answer, I want to link some astro-based posts I’ve made on Chan’s jealous tendencies, how he can respond in fights, as well as his overall manifestation of his love (this one is just smut lol read at your own risk, 18+). I think these are some pieces that preface why I have the opinions that I do on this hehe <3

• just point blank, Chris loves knowing that you are jealous over him. It feeds into his scorp venus energy for sure, but tbh it also goes along well with his libra moon and his deep NEED for validation. He absolutely LOVES feeling like he is the most important thing in your life. He will definitely pretend that “it’s okay baby, calm down. There’s no need to be jealous,” but he secretly EATS THAT SHIT UPPPP. He craves it. It makes him feel like he’s finally found someone that will obsess over him the same way he could possess you.

• He definitely has a sort of power kink as well. I want to say it isn’t CRAZY, but I do think he has these almost manipulative tendencies without even realizing it? I think he would definitely do subtle things SOMETIMES (not often) to maybe get a little reaction out of you. He likes seeing you jealous over him & he likes knowing the power he holds over you… to be able to get you more & more crazy over him. Strokes his ego a little bit lol.

• But also in a way, this has a lot to do with the fact that he so badly craves passion in a relationship. And he knows that if he envokes that emotional response out of you, it keeps that burning for him alive. He wants to feel so fucking connected to you that he could read you like a book. And to be honesttttt, he’d probably actually prefer it if you didn’t outright tell him you were jealous, but rather that you tried to hide it and he “picked up on it.” He loves feeling like he can read his partner better than even they can. He likes knowing that even as you are trying to suppress it, he just “knows you too well” and “has that effect on you.” Like if you are silently burning up about something, but don’t say it, he can come over later and tease you about it, but also putting your thoughts to rest.

• BUTTTT one final point! Everything that i’ve said up until this point i think is true IN MODERATION. Overall, he likes someone who is confident and independent. He knows that he’s a flirt (even though he lies about it), and he needs someone who can handle it. So he likes someone that is usuallllly not always jealous, but CAN get like that from time to time. We can’t forget that he has a Sagittarius mars, which does give him a need for independence. If he’s with someone who is constantly jealous or insecure over what he does (and gets super down about it), he would probably get annoyed and burnt out by it. He doesn’t like feeling like he necessarily HAS to coddle people… what he does like is thinking that someone is so “strong” on their own that he WANTS to give into them and care for them. But if he feels like he’s being boxed in by someone who is always worried about him going out and cheating, i think he could get a bit flighty.

[ravenwitch45]

Do you mind doing where Crimson has a Imp husband who is also his sugar daddy? (Weird idea ik lol)

Oh my! XP Weird Idea indeed but oddly fitting considering Crimson was kinda struggling finacially, why the wedding plan happened and all. Sure thing! I like writing Crimson being humbled and all.

Crimson with an Imp Husband Sugar Daddy S/O

It just kinda happened after the wedding plan was a bust. He needed money, so he ran into you at some fancy club, noticed several details hinting you were rich (Also had his men to read up on you cause he didn't want to be a sucker again) He offers a deal, you add the condition of him being your sugar baby, which flusters him greatly btw.

He swallows his pride after you explain the situation, though a day later cause he doesn't want to seem too desperate and bam, Crimson has a sugar daddy XP

Your very respectful to him, never treating him like a toy or servant, only asking if he could come over like once a week or sometimes visiting him but you take the no if he refuses, which he rarely does, still trying to treat this like a basic business deal so he's trying his best to fulfill his end.

You find it adorable how he tries so hard to be stonefaced even though he blushes like crazy doing stuff like kisses and cuddles, grumbling a lot. You often politely ask him for affection and stuff, but when he does it unprompted, you get all blushy and tease him on it, having him yell it doesn't mean anything as you kiss him on the cheek.

He's very rigid at first, a lot like Blitz is with Stolas, but after you make it clear you actually want him, and not just a person to fuck, he cools off, for a while it's more friends with benefits then anything, you chat and sometimes kiss and fuck (Which he won't admit he enjoys a lot more then he expected) but neither really consider yourselves truly dating.

You don't want to push him, and He's takes a while with his multisexual awakening, realizing he actually likes you, confessing to you drunk which you find adorable before bringing him to bed so he can sleep before the hangover in the morning, and then you discuss and get on the same page. Him blushing at how happy you seem about it, never really having that really, for good reason but still.

And after that it's a nice domestic relationship for a good while, he's a lot more relaxed with his empire going smooth with your funds added, and going to you as the day winds down to relax, you two going on dates and experimenting with stuff as couples do. You usually just bringing up his sugar baby status to fluster him.

C:Y-Y/N! You know I don't like you calling me that in public...

Y/N: Okay! Hey everybody this is my sexy boyfriend Crimson!

C, pulling his hat down with a blush as you put arm around him:

Y/N: You cute little grump~

C:I hate you...

Eventually one time you casually call him your hubby or husband, and he kinda freezes. He really likes you and the last person who called him that... well she didn't have a great time. And for a while he kinda closes himself off as he rakes his mind over it.

A few weeks after that he treats you to a surprise fancy dinner and proposes. Coming clean his last marriage didn't go well and it was his fault entirely, but he wants to do better with you, more then anything and he'd love if you'd give him that chance.

The hug and kiss he takes as a yes as he slips the ring onto your finger. Hugging and kissing you back, holding you closer then any wealth he's gained through this relationship, loving you with all his heart.

Okay there you go! Know it was more meeting to fiancé then actual hcs on the husbands relationship but this is long enough I feel. I enjoyed this one, never wrote a relationship like this so sorry if it's off, though I'll never get tired of writing Crimson's Queer awakening tbh XP Hope you enjoyed and thanks for sharing!

[iamnmbr3]

hi there! During some weeks i've really become a fan of your drarry posts(sometimes daily;))..they're so detailed and convince one in a way that they can't say "nah, you're delusional..drarry doesn't exist!(platonic or romantic)"..and tbh i agree with 98% of your opinions( 2% is in little details lol)

I have some things to say:

-in room of requirement scene harry asks draco whose wand is this in his hand and draco replied his mother's [i love how he answers with honesty here bc mostly he doesn't answer straightforward..it's obvious to me how much he changed and how exhausted he is:(] then harry laughed, admitting that situation is not funny at all(as far as i remember)...do u think why harry laughed?the only reason in my mind is he missed bickering with draco hahaaaa:)))

-in shrieking shack voldemort told lucius that perhaps draco's decided to befriend harry(i love voldy for this^^)...do you think he told it to terrify lucius or despite draco's fear, he actually saw any sign of draco being inclined to harry and his side and seeing that courage in him to change his side?

-In your last meta you told "I think he definitely doesn't want to admit that there's something in Draco that he's drawn to." This is also about harry describing draco's appearance..there are some ppl that are actually gorgeous( either according to other ppl or harry) like tom riddle, cedric, cho ginny etc & there are some that look ugly(harry makes it quite clear lolll)..and some average face which harry does not bother to describe much more...as far as we're told draco is some sort of average(ofc you can think of him as handsome like i think but he's not that type of handsome that everyone agrees on like cedric..that's what i think)but harry tells good things about his appearance in a very weird way...it looks like he knows he looks good but he doesn't want to confess that directly...

Thanks for reading, keep going!💙

Thank you for this lovely ask! It truly made me smile so much to read your kind words. I'm so glad you've been enjoying my posts! And for the record I never mind if people disagree with me (as long as it's polite; and if it's not, it's the rudeness I mind not the disagreement). Discussion and respect for different opinions is what fandom is all about.

I think you raise some really fascinating points here!

1) In the Room of Requirement scene I think Harry's bitter laughter also kind of parallels Draco laughing humorlessly when they run into each other in book 6 when Harry's on his way to the Quidditch match. I think partly Harry's also just relieving tension and laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation and how they always come back to each other. And yeah I also love how Draco responds honestly to Harry.

Also very notable that when Harry asks why the three of them aren't with Voldemort, Crabbe and not Draco is the one who says that they're going to be rewarded and that they hung back to capture Harry. Draco, who has no problem answering Harry's previous question (about his wand) or his next question (about how they got into the Room) is notably silent here. (I wrote more about his motivations in this scene here btw).

2) This is such an amazing point about the shrieking shack scene that I never thought about. But wow. You're right. Great catch! This bit is actually so interesting. So Voldemort says:

"If your son is dead, Lucius, it is not my fault. He did not come and join me, like the rest of the Slytherins. Perhaps he has decided to befriend Harry Potter?"

This is such a strange and specific thing to say. Sure it could be him just messing with Lucius. But he could've done that in so many other ways. He could've just threatened to kill Draco. Or questioned his loyalty more generally. Voldemort doesn't even say something like "perhaps he has deserted me and fled" or speculate that Draco has betrayed him and joined the flighting against him. He suggests that Draco has "befriended" Harry specifically.

Also in this scene Voldemort is thinking about other things and not really paying attention to Lucius or particularly trying to torment him. Lucius is the one who brings up Draco and this is Voldemort's response to the topic.

We know Voldemort can read minds. Despite Draco's best efforts (which given that he's alive despite saving Harry in the Manor, must have been pretty good) to shield his thoughts something must have leaked through, something that gave Voldemort pause. When Lucius says that Draco would never befriend Harry, Voldemort just gives him a noncommittal response and says: "You must hope not." Which sounds to me like he isn't buying it. And indeed, where does it turn out that Draco is (clearly without orders or permission from Voldemort)? With Harry. And I've already discussed in my other meta why I don't think he was planning on killing Harry or handing him over, despite what Crabbe and Goyle thought.

Voldemort's comments are especially interesting given that right after the Room of Requirement scene Draco is attacked by another Death Eater who also seems to think he's not on their side, despite the fact that Draco's name is well known and he has a Dark Mark. So...what happened to make him think Draco wasn't on their side?

3) Yeah I absolutely think Harry thinks Draco is good looking but tries to ignore it. I think they are both exactly each other's type.

[sasukesun]

do you have nsfw headcanons for sns?

yes, sorry it took a while to answer this. i actually have posted a few nsfw headcanons previously. you can read here, here and here. but here we go.

missionary so we can continue our argument from before. jk. but i do think they prefer to look into each other’s eyes and kiss when they have sex.

naruto really gets off on sasuke’s pleasure. it’s so obvious that he does. one of the reasons why he prefers to have sex while being able to look at sasuke it’s because he likes to see sasuke’s reactions. he also loves to see sasuke losing it.

naruto also gets carried away easily, not that he would hurt sasuke, but he doesn’t think much if it’ll leave a bruise, he’ll bite if he wants to, stuff like that.

actually naruto would look at a mark he left and go “oh i marked you” and sasuke would be like “don’t pretend you’re worried, i know you like it” and yeah… naruto feels smug about it, possessive and all…

they both kinda like a bit of pain/roughness, they can’t help it, it’s the sparring memories k.

sasuke is louder. he just has tried for too long to suppress what he felt so actually being able to let it out to naruto is freeing.

but naruto blabbers sometimes when he’s a certain level of horny. it can be “nonsense” but he can’t help escaping some praises and i love yous. depending on how emotional it is, sasuke gets overwhelmed.

i think more than the i love yous, the thing that overwhelms sasuke the most is naruto saying stuff like “you’re so good to me”. something something sasuke realising at vote2 naruto always saw how good he was something.

sasuke can be bossy, he is like that in their relationship so.

sasuke has a very sensitive spot in his neck behind his ear.

i don’t see them as super kinky but i see naruto getting experimental (clones) and wanting to try to do new stuff and sasuke agrees with it. but also- some light bondage is not off the rails tbh i can see both of them tying the other up and enjoying getting tied up.

but i also think they both enjoy sasuke getting tied up the most. something something the obsessive part in naruto dealing with having sasuke all for himself, even though naruto knows sasuke could easily untie himself no matter how good the knots are yet he still lets naruto do that and have his way because he trusts naruto (and this thought makes naruto very horny). something something the trust sasuke has in naruto actually allows him to relax. something something the part of naruto that gets off on sasuke’s pleasure being able to pleasure sasuke while sasuke can do nothing about it. there are so many layers.

the first time naruto sucked sasuke off that little rivalry voice in his head was like “can’t believe you’re on your knees for the bastard” but naruto actually felt “powerful” in that position.

naruto is very enthusiastic about giving head and eating ass tbh.

sasuke pining naruto’s hands down with only one hand ever thought about that.

they have competed to make the other come first, obviously. sasuke’s dirtiest trick was saying “i love you” to naruto.

sasuke putting his finger on naruto’s mouth and telling him to be quiet and naruto biting and sucking the finger. sasuke hated how hot it was.

i like to imagine sometimes sasuke thinking he has everything under control just for naruto to pull the rug from under his feet and be honest and unexpectedly sexy and make him lose it, which is actually great for sasuke because he is able to relax more. kinda like this fic here.

i also think naruto likes teasing sasuke, verbally especially.

for example, when naruto proposes clones for the first time he goes “you can chicken out if you want”.

of course sasuke doesn’t accept the teasing quietly, he bites back.

tbh one time naruto and his clone got jealous for having to share sasuke. just once.

the first time they did something sexual, sasuke used the sharingan to learn how naruto jacked off, since he never did that before. naruto would say that’s cheating but he’s not really complaining.

sasuke does use the sharingan to have naruto’s sex face perfectly etched on his memory forever and ever.

i honestly see sasuke opening up more after sex. naruto appreciates those moments very much.

[its-actually-minicika]

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 3;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader x bookcanon Aemond;

Warnings: all of them tbh, it's Harshest Winters we're talking about;

Word Count: 10k+

Author's Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE!! I'm honestly overwhelmed by the love this fic got in the span of so little time 😭 I hope you guys enjoy this part as well! Thank you so much for being so patient with me <3

Also, this chapter is FILTHY. I'm talking actual smut for the first time in my life, which makes me both nervous and embarrassed to be posting this lol

I know that the people who read this particular series are already used to the graphic content ahead, but consider this your fair warning :"))

PART 4 IS OUT NOW <3

As night swallows the world of Westeros, four beating hearts must get through the challenges that arise in the absence of sunlight.

Desire is the death of duty - fear pushes against the voice of reason.

Dreams really are the window to the soul sometimes.

One… Two… Three… Four.

Aemond’s breathing came and went in slow and labored pants. Whatever the man was dreaming about must have had quite the effect on him, and the lady scoffed to herself, while pushing down a disdainful huff.

Slowly, yet surely, her head rolled to the side. She could still see him in her periphery - the deep creases that adorned his forehead, a permanent reminder of his relentless character; the way his chest heaved each exhale, as if constantly pained by an unknown affliction.

Good, she thought to herself, At least his dreams should torment him, if his psyche won't allow it.

In… And out. In… Out.

Three weeks had passed since her brazen attempt to escape with Cain. Three weeks, since she left the wounded knight in the cave: to rot or to crawl back by himself.

Back.

Back to where?

Back home? That much was impossible.

Back to the Saltpans? And from there on… what?

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed to account for her life back in Harrenhal. Three weeks of sleeping in the same bed as him, three weeks in which her only waking thought was to grab a pillow and smother him with it as he slept soundly by her side.

Goosebumps crawled over her skin, leaving the lady restless and aggravated. She’d twist and turn more times than she could count - she’d curse herself and her current situation: her weakness, her inability to kill Aemond then and there.

She had to live. She had promised Jace that much, and she would honor her word.

There would be a time for Aemond to meet his end. And it would be by her hand.

Jace.

If he were here, he’d know what to do.

Her thoughts turned sporadic. For a few moments, the girl clenched her fists so hard that her knuckles turned white - squeezing harder as her anger built up. Each of her fingernails bit into the softness of her palm, and she could feel herself draw harsher breaths, in and out: all in a desperate attempt to calm herself down.

Her heart beat loudly, and her body trembled in unquenched rage.

She could still kill him now; Gods, how she wished nothing more adherently than that. And why not kill him - for his death would avenge Jacaerys, Luke… Cain.

Indeed, here she was, laying down next to the Kinslayer, one step away from wrapping her small fingers against his throat and pushing down with an unrivaled force and fury.

Before she could fully process her own actions, (Y/N) slowly rose from her resting place. The wide bed made a deep creaking sound, which echoed throughout the room for a couple of moments.

One, two, three seconds she allowed herself to wait.

The girl remained unmoving, as she took in a sharp breath, and held it in the back of her throat.

Her weary eyes skimmed over Aemond’s sleeping form, and her whole body stiffened in anticipation. When she noticed his lack of a reaction, a soft sigh parted from her rosy lips, and a deep scowl settled over her fair features.

Reason fought with ire and, eventually, the former succeeded in its quiet assertion.

Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, and the lady of Riverrun shut them tightly; it was Jacaerys’ voice that then rang in her ears.

‘You know what your only fault is?’ He let out a roaring laugh while engulfing her back with his stronger arms. She turned around to face him, abruptly so, and her hands came to rest over his broad and shaking chest. 'I remember a boy who once said I had no faults.' The lady laughed with him, whilst rubbing small circles in the cuff of his sparring vest.

He kissed the top of her head with a wistful smile, and glanced at her with a boyish glimmer in his hawk-like eyes. 'Please accept my humblest apologies, my darling love. I merely meant: do you know what the only thing that’s too good about you is?’

(Y/N) let out a soft giggle, mirroring Jace’s look of full, unadulterated love. She furrowed her brows comically, before tracing his jaw with her free hand. ‘Enlighten me, then, My Prince…’

Upon hearing his title cascade from her plump lips, the Prince of Dragonstone dived in to press his forehead onto hers. He took in a shaky breath, and gently cupped her cheek to kiss her. ‘You are far too loyal for your own good. You care too much for the people you let in. It makes you angry and brash - it makes you take too many risks.’

The threat of a sob was forming on her wobbly lip. (Y/N) bit it harshly, and sucked in another breath. Her tight hold replaced the tender meat of her inner palm, with the silky sheets of their shared bedding. A lone tear parted from her shut eye, rolling over her face, and staining her cotton nightdress.

‘It makes me quite jealous - your fearlessness and devotion.’ Jacaerys muttered against her ear, whilst pampering her with chaste, soft kisses. ‘When I make you my Queen, I might just make it so that you can only see and take care of me.’ He jested lightly, eliciting a chuckle from the laying girl.

Her hand reached for his soft, curly locks, and she twirled each strand against her slim fingers. ‘Should you make me your wife, Jace, I don’t think I’d ever part from you again.’

His eyes held a fire in them; the Velaryon prince reached for her tangled hand, and took it in his own, pressing it against his waiting mouth. ‘You will be my wife. My Princess.’ His voice was laced with naught but determination and love. ‘One day, we’ll both be crowned before the masses: and you will be the most beloved Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.’

‘When we marry, you will be mine, as I already am yours.’ He pledged with a final, delicate caress.

With each palpable reminder of him, her jaw clenched tighter and tighter. The suffering that erupted from deep within her chest both fueled and exhausted the lady and, soon enough, the girl found herself laying down again, wetting her pillow with endless rivers of tears.

The chastising fires of sleep licked at her conscious mind, and, although strained by her lover’s swift reminder, the woman fell into a deep sleep.

Oh, and how beautiful the dream was.

Although it wasn’t an exact replica of the way they first met, it more than made up for it with its stilling beauty.

***

He held his hand out to her, a polite smile plastered across his face. Her older brothers gave her a knowing look - there would be no higher honor for a Tully than to be singled out during the banquet of the Crown Prince's sixteenth name day.

Together, they danced not one, not two, not three… but seven dances during that blessed evening.

Her feet were aching and, with the redness of his cheeks and the lightness on his handsome face, the girl guessed she had at least had the same effect on the Prince, as he had on her.

They talked all throughout the night, sharing fond stares and quiet giggles that echoed and bounced off the hard stone walls.

“Why haven’t we met before, My Lady?” Jacaerys questioned with an upward quirk of his brow and a charming smile upon his lips.

“I’m afraid such questions will have to be taken up with my Grandfather, Your Grace.” As she mirrored his contagious grin, the young girl carried on, “I’ve… been at court while I was younger, and remained in the Red Keep for a couple of years, but the quiet of the Riverlands always suited me better.”

“We’re very similar, you and I, Lady Tully.” Jace let out in a long huff, straightening his back against the cold patio of the Royal Gardens. “I… I know that it is my duty, to confer with the other Lords and Ladies and make idle talk, but… I must admit that it can be quite…”

“Straining?” (Y/N) suggested with a quizzical quirk of her brow.

Jacaerys’ face broke into a beaming smile, and the Heir to the Iron Throne nodded affirmatively. “Exactly that, My Lady. I’m afraid, sometimes, that it shows on my face.” He joked half heartedly as he scrunched up his nose - though his posture remained upright and fair.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and the girl shook her head definitively. “I assure you, Your Grace, it couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Jace.”

“... I beg your pardon?”

“Friends and family just call me Jace.”

A knowing look was shared between them, and (Y/N) allowed her eyes to trail downwards, resting on the velvet flowers that adorned the well-kept garden. Her cheeks felt as though they caught on fire, and the lady was sure that her face held a comical rouge to it, thanks to Jacaerys’ insistent staring.

She knew well what came after that - she remembered how she hurried to allow Jace the same courtesy, of calling her by her given name, and how they both laughed at the other’s awkwardness.

And yet…

The Velaryon’s laughter turned into a painful cry. As if possessed, he started shaking his head. Then his limbs. Then his body.

“But dead men do not need names, do they, (Y/N)?”

Her head shot up - blood began pumping in her ears, and her heartbeat hammered against her chest.

“W-What?”

“I am dead, I am dead, I am dead,” He wailed continuously, “Can’t you see it, my love? Can you not see?”

Strong arms came to hold her from behind - wrapped up in algae, with flesh half eaten by the haunting sea.

The air in her lungs filled with a putrid smell.

“Do you see me? Do you? Do you see me, (Y/N)? My face, my eyes, how do they look? Oh, (Y/N), I cannot see down here! It’s so dark!”

Wet and cold rivers of liquid ran down her spine, coming from his parted mouth - water or blood, she couldn’t distinguish. And she was far too scared to turn her head to look.

“I cannot breathe - help me! Why did you let me die?”

A violent shriek escaped her lips. The girl tried to spin and turn - escape his hold, and take him in her arms all the same.

Jacaerys was faster in his attempts; he took her face with his pruney fingers, and twisted her head around.

But instead of brown eyes, she was met with greying hues.

“Why did you let me die?” Cain’s voice echoed Jace’s sentence. “Why did you let me die, My Lady? How could you let me die?”

Blood was raining down on them: it filled her lungs, and painted her blue dress in a sickly purple. It stuck on her eyes and closed shut. It made her limbs impossible to move.

"No… no, no… this is not how it's supposed to go…!"

“(Y/N)! It's all your fault, all your fault…!”

***

A blood-curdling scream regurgitated from her dry throat.

Neither her drenched nightgown, nor the clogged air of the wide chambers managed to calm her down. While still in the limbo between dream and reality, (Y/N) brought a hand to her souring throat, and clawed at her collar for more stability.

Almost immediately after her first shaky sob, Aemond’s body bolted upright, and the One-Eyed Prince brushed off any remaining fragments of his torturous sleep.

With his right arm, he reached for her in an outstretched caress, eyes wide with wonder over her violent reaction - whilst his left instantly grabbed the dagger on the drawer closest to him.

One look about the room confirmed his pending suspicion: she had gone through a nightmare, and a very unpleasant one at that.

Not all our dreams get to turn into nightmares - The dead of night can provide solace for some, as well as great agony for others.

Scattered desires, idle wants, and needs: all met under the velvety silence and gratifying darkness that eats one whole, and mends his subconscious to the most profane of fantasies.

In his dream, Aemond was engaging in a much kinder resolve than the lady next to him.

***

The echo of swift, hurried footsteps allowed a comforting sigh to wash over his parted lips.

The tedious company of his brother and father was long forgotten, the moment her familiar silhouette caught his eye, urging him to turn his head around.

There she stood, ever the vile temptress, wearing an emerald green dress that draped lowly over her shoulders, trailing over her tender bosom, and barely covering the perky mounds of flesh.

She was smiling at him, despite being attached to Jace's arm, and a soft bite over her lower lip was all it took for the young Prince to feel that familiar tightness form in his leather braies.

He couldn't tell who strutted towards who, or how they got to that point. But a tentative hand rose to his face, taking off his eye patch.

A hitch of pleasure escaped from her crimson lips. She took both his hands in hers and, before the masses, placed them right above her clothed, throbbing clit.

"Please…" She pleaded with him, writhing into his reluctant touch, "Kostilus. Kostilus, Aemond."

His hesitation and lack of movement caused a loud whimper to contort from deep within her throat. She gave him a sly smirk, and brought her own hands under her skirts, to lift them and show him her glistening cunt. The evidence of his arousal was obvious, what with his cock brushing against her thigh as they kissed. He took her by the neck with one hand, while resting the other on her cheek.

He let out a low groan, and pushed her hand away to cup her dripping sex. His calloused thumb flicked over her reddened pearl, and a long, slim finger went inside her tight hole.

Aemond clenched his jaw - almost painfully so - and his hips rutted into the air so desperately, that the man was sure her wanton gasps held some amused glimmer in them.

His lilac orb watched her face contort in pleasure. They were all alone now, hidden in the shadows of the Great Hall, belonging to the Red Keep.

… And there he was, seated on the Iron Throne, moving his hips lazily as his intended was bouncing up and down his clothed shaft, rubbing their bodies together with a renowned fever.

His name fell from her lips in a sickeningly sweet way - Aemond could feel his hardness twitch into the hot material, and the Targaryen Prince bit back a guttural moan.

"Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck, that's it. Bona iksos issa sȳz riñītsos." He hissed through gritted teeth.

She was finally his.

His to love, his to cherish, his to fuck and to make love to.

The thought of possessing her fully, unapologetically, wildly, sent a deep shiver down to his unyielding loins.

Aemond was close. Oh so close to reaching his high. But he wanted to make her feel good.

Wordlessly, the One-Eyed Prince stopped her desperate bucking with one hand over her hip and the other, holding down onto the nape of her neck.

The girl was sobbing and shaking. Her voice came out as a meek whisper, and her glassy eyes met with his dilated pupil.

"No, no… please… kostilus, Aemond, don't stop…" She writhed inside his arms, bringing her hand out to caress his scarred cheek.

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of his bemused lips. Aemond hummed at her admission, and tenderly licked her lips.

"Shh," He soothed her gently, "Be still, byka hontes. Issa dōna, byka jorrāelagon."

While speaking, the Targaryen Prince pushed her dress to the side, sliding off her small clothes with an able hand and placing her flush onto the Iron Throne.

He bit the inside of her thigh, and rubbed small circles on the back of her hands.

Like the perfect lover, he entwined her palms with his, entangling their fingers together as he hushed her sweetly.

"Spread your legs for me, issa jorrāelagon. Let me see how wet you are."

The echo of a "Please" got caught in his throat. It was taking everything inside of him not to kneel before his lady and beg her to let him touch her.

Her wild blush and plush, swollen lips made Aemond let out a low curse. He gripped her fingers tighter, and took them in his mouth, to coat them with adorning kisses, one by one.

"You can do it for me, my sweet, pretty girl." He encouraged her through a shallow pant. "Don't you want me to make you feel good?"

A shy 'yes' bounced off the cold walls of the secluded Keep. Aemond hummed in approval, and lowered his head over her sensitive mound, sucking lightly.

With each new whimper, his strokes became more and more sporadic. The Prince aligned his nose over her throbbing clit, and eased his tongue into her sacred depths.

His eye shut tightly at the feeling of her sweet nectar - one of his hands came free from her tight grasp, and he parted her thighs even further apart.

"Good girl, good girl, good girl…" He chanted while latched onto her scorching heat, and, with one final push of his tongue inside her, he took the girl over the edge.

Her cries of bliss shook the very building to the core. Her wild pants brought Aemond close to orgasm, and the male had to bring down a hand to his aching bulge, and clench it tightly, in order to stop himself from spilling in his pants.

It wouldn't take long for his love to wiggle her hips again.

His mouth and chin gleamed with the evidence of her spilled arousal. Aemond let out a rumbled laugh and licked himself clean with the help of two nimble fingers.

"I won't waste a single drop. Not one, single drop of you."

His words made her eyes roll back, and her throat inch with a loud moan. His Lady kneeled before him, and rubbed her cheek over his clothed cock, kissing at its outlines faintly.

Insatiable little mynx.

His eye fluttered shut, groaning in agony at her sensual touch. Aemond swallowed thickly, and he let out a hurting whimper, as the kneeling woman dipped her hand in the tightness of his pants.

Slowly, teasingly, she tested the waters.

The woman brought her hand up to her lover, and parted his swollen lips with the slow stroke of her thumb. Silently, she urged him to coat her skin with the wet of his saliva. Aemond smirked, and licked one long stripe over her spreading palm.

Humming in approval, and never once breaking eye contact, she eased her way down his leather trousers, and freed his cock from the tightness of its cage.

Several beads of sweat streamed down his pleasured face. Droplets of precum rolled down his reddened tip, and Aemond hissed at the contact they made with the base of his shaft.

His lady looked at him with soft, doe-like eyes;

"Syz taoba." She praised him with a mischievous smile. Before he could register the whole of her movements, the woman's tongue darted out, and she licked a slow strip over his twitching manhood.

She laughed at his dazed expression, and began touching him with her silky palm.

"Yes…" He moaned into her hold, bucking his hips to meet her hand halfway. "Tighter. Grip it tighter…" He instructed her through labored breaths, and a harsh groan etched its way from his bitten lips. "Ah, ābrazyrys!"

With each palpable thrust, Aemond moaned louder and louder, until the licks of relief washed over him in a sudden wave of pleasure.

At once, his hips stilled their violent bucking, and he felt the first streaks of cum shoot over his heaving abdomen.

Aemond gasped at her unwavering touch, and a single tear of pure delight rolled down his pale cheek.

She smiled at him. A pure, innocent smile, as if what she'd just done did naught to shake her untouched innocence.

(Y/N) moaned at the sight of him, so ravished and spent by her hand - she licked her lips tentatively, and trailed her fingers over his lower stomach, coating each digit with his warm release.

The cum pooled on the base of her tongue, and she showed him the fullness in her mouth, before swallowing him whole.

Thinking him fully drained, the girl made haste to get up on her feet and press her forehead against his. She giggled excitedly, and kissed over his jaw and neck.

A primal glint swirled deep within him, and Aemond's eye darkened.

He wasn't done with her just yet.

His arms flipped her over, and the pair found themselves in the peace and quiet of his old Quarters. Her body was pushed against the silk bedding, laid in below Aemond's insistent licks and kisses.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, until the only thing you can think of is me."

His voice was shaking with lust and need, and the curve of her waist and breasts did nothing to help his aggravated heart.

His love let out a stimulated groan. Her lips churned into a small pout, and she brought his hand out to her scorching heat, pressing down on it insistently.

His mouth lulled open - he could feel the heat emanating from her maidenhood, and the very scent that made his head swirl with need.

He gritted his teeth and lowered his body to press against hers. He could feel himself grow harder and harder by the second, twitching against her exposed thigh.

The girl let out a burst of snorting laughter, and her legs came to grip him over the bulk of his waist.

Effortlessly, she pushed him into the wide goose pillows, towering over him as she snapped her hips into his.

"I always wanted to mount a dragon. Tonight, I'm going to ride you as you ride Vhagar."

***

The intensity of her scream made the man bolt up in an instant. His thoughts surged with a singular instinct: to protect her.

A hand reached for his dagger. The other, for her shaking form.

"What happened?" His throaty groan echoed through the silent room.

At the sound of his smothering voice, the girl let out a startled scream. She would have fallen from the unmade bed, were it not for Aemond's hands, which caught her beforehand. … His face contorted in pain at her recoiling, at her lack of trust in him. His very presence was unnerving her.

Her numerous shrieks alerted the new guards, who, warned in advance of their master's disposition to anger, hastily opened the door to his chambers - swords unsheathed and shoulders tense.

But, upon glancing at the erratic woman, and the way her hands were pushing Aemond's chest away from her flush form, they assumed this was just another way of coupling, and the oldest of the two bowed his head in embarrassment, before grabbing his brethren by the cape and exiting the room.

Fucking assholes…! The Lady thought to herself. Upkeeping the realm and instigating order only when they see fit.

The pang of embarrassment took a hold of her jaded face. It didn't matter what they thought. But all the same, Cain's words echoed into her ears, slithering into her heart.

' - the walls talk in Harrenhal, my Lady. And they... well, forgive me for being so blunt - speak stories about how the Kinslayer loses sleep by visiting you in your chambers at night.'

Disgust painted its way over her distressed expression. A deep frown creased her forehead, and she clicked her tongue in irritation at Aemond's attempt to soothe her.

"N-Nothing happened." She strained herself to answer. "It doesn't matter. Now let me go."

But his hold didn't falter. His iron grip reigned over her, and (Y/N) could feel how her wrist started to ache from numbness.

Her eyes shot up in pure horror.

"Please, Prince Aemond." She tried once more, though this time sweeter. Her eyes trailed from his face to his clenched fists, and she tried to relax in his hold - at least slightly. Dread settled into the pits of her stomach, as she awaited his answer.

The One-Eyed Prince felt his heart hammer against his chest. A stinging pain ruled over any other voice of reason, and he felt lethal, succumbed to the endless lust and frenzy that he felt for the shaking girl.

And, although he didn’t let go of her bruising arm, he sat down the dagger in his left hand, in favor of touching her lax cheek with his rough fingertips.

Gods, he was still so painfully hard.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, as his grip over her body relaxed with each passing minute. The taste of abhorance was getting harder and harder to ignore - as did his raging hard-on, so adamantly pressed against her covered leg.

The woman darted her tongue out to wet her chapped lips; an action that wasn’t easily ignored by Aemond. His brows furrowed in lust and anger, and the coil in his lower stomach grew tighter by the second.

His hand ghosted over her twisted features, and he held his hand against her, with a fear akin to getting burnt. She scrunched her nose up as he scooted closer: her eye trailed downwards to his huge erection. Fear mixed with the knowledge of her situation, and her free hand came to grip the edge of the mirkwood bed.

“Hey,” She began to say, but took a pause to clench and unclench her jaw. “I think we should go back to sleep.”

Her eyes closed, if only for a second. Aemond’s deep breaths echoed through the quiet room, over her face, and the girl chastised herself for being so idiotic.

Some reply she gave him.

… But there is still a way to get a hold of that damned dagger.

Thoughts laced with uncertainty whirled inside her head. This wasn’t the first time Aemond had stared with hunger at her, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was simply the way their 'relationship' worked. Simply the way he did.

Before she could muster up to add anything else, the Kinslayer broke the silence. His voice was soft and hitched; His broad arms snaked around her again, and his single eye loomed over her, adorning an emotion that menged perfectly with caution and lust.

“Why do you have this effect on me?” He questioned no one but himself. “You have ruined me.” He uttered, as if her presence and innocence were the strongest of poisons.

“Nyke istan nykeā vala hen gaomilaksir se rigo gō nyke mazilībagon laesi va ao. Se ao… ao… ao mazverdagon issa aylik hae lo nyke daor…”

The last of his words came out strained and angry, the desire to possess her coming out in the roughness of his sentence in High Valyrian.

(Y/N) squinted at him, unsure of what to do and say, except to stay awfully quiet. His cock twitched in his pants at her confused expression, and the woman sat her eyes on the dagger before her.

May his Gods so help him if he tries to do anything to me, she dryly thought to herself.

“I never tried to hurt you in any way.” She spoke decidedly, trying her best to keep a level of strength in her hoarse voice. Her body tensed under his aggravating touch, and the Lady quietly cursed herself for her inability to move further away from him.

Aemond’s face broke into a tight smile, and the Targaryen Prince huffed out in a low breath.

“Quit playing your game with me. You know exactly what you did. Women like you have quite the breeding for it.”

At that moment, anger blinded her. Swift as an arrow, she rose her head up high, and attempted to slap him - hard. But the older man caught her hand within his skilled fingers, and lowered it to his aching heart, keeping it there.

“Ao taenor issa. Aōha elēni, aōha laesi, aōha relgos, aōha maelki - aōha olvie perhas iksos surokvis issa. Issi ao biare? Hmm? Issi ao biare rūsīr skoros ao gōntan naejot issa?”

He could see the tears in her eyes. He could feel the flesh of her skin burn with the roughness of his touch. He could feel her anger and building disdain, and all of it pushed him over the edge all the same.

Aemond grabbed her face with his free hand, and clasped her jaw tightly. He breathed in her warmth, and he cursed himself for it - for the weakness that she caused him, for how easy it was for her to calm him down. “Ao issi nykeā quptenka ābra qilōni insalvak nykeā dārys hen ānogar.” He hissed desperately, lowering himself closer and closer to her face. “I treat you with kindness, and this is how you think to repay me? Vile, spoiled cunt. Gevie līve, ny dōna byka rene.”

To his mind, he was but an animal, caught helplessly in a siren’s grasp - she had lured him in with her beauty, her heart, and he was drowning in her, in her essence, in her being.

All of the things he felt towards her welled up inside of him: the love, the longing, the obsession, the lust, the need, the want. It was all too much.

He breathed heavily into her ear, while stroking at her bottom lip, “Gaomagon ao ūndegon sepār skorkydoso kraj ao issi, issa jorrāelagon? Aemond Mēre-Laes, se kipagīros hen Vhagar sen se Dārys mīsio hen Westeros… aōhon. Isse prūmia, haevisis, se maelki."

His raining assault in High Valyrian aggravated her to no end. Although Jacaerys' knowledge on the language wasn't perfect, either, he had taught the girl enough to get by.

And enough it was, at the very least, to make out the hissed out "beautiful"s, "love"s, and "heart"s that Aemond spewed at her.

The Tully girl spat in his face, biting on the index finger, that was trying to pry open her mouth. “You promised me,” She asserted as she pried herself free of his sickly embrace, “You promised me you wouldn’t touch me until I expressively asked you to.”

Her (y/e/c) eyes clashed with his lone, lilac orb. The woman swallowed thickly, and a droplet of sweat fell over her pounding temple. “So back. Off.”

Half a second goes by - half a heartbeat and half a breath -, until Aemond finally lets go of her, and settles back down onto the cold side of his bed.

For a while, (Y/N) is stuck. She sees how the man she loathes turns his back around, how his shoulders fall back as he’s trying to relax. She focuses on his breathing, and how his erratic breaths quiet down.

“Go to sleep.” He commands her bitterly, “Before I give you a reason to be tired out.”

The ferocity of a thousand curses almost falls from her tightened lips. The woman takes in a deep breath, and lowers herself back onto the drenched sheets.

He had donned the dagger to his fucking waist.

For almost two weeks, Cain had been falling in and out of consciousness.

His clash with Aemond left him weak and crippled - most of all, it left him ashamed.

Ashamed of his lack of diligence. Ashamed for having been unable to protect his Lady.

Finally, ashamed of his weakness and lack of thought, of reason.

If he were awake right now, he'd curse the Old Gods and the New for making him so - for giving him the wound that would incapacitate him forever. He'd have to fight the shivers that came with the rotting of his flesh, he'd have to clench his remaining fist in agony at the notion of the pools of blood he lost: the notion of his wound still going through the process healing, and all that came with it.

His once handsome face was still stained with his blood - dirt and sweat clung to it, like flies on dead meat.

His golden locks looked almost black, covered by the mold and mud that he'd crawled through once he reached outside the cave.

***

"You need to be swifter on your foot, lass!" Ser Allyn Swann instructed him, hitting the boy over the legs once, in taciturn aggression. "You're to be our Lady's sworn protector, are you not? You'll need to do better than that."

"I already am her sworn protector!" Cain yelled after the knight, rubbing a hand over his sweaty forehead. He took in a sharp breath, exhaustion seeping in his bones. Without waiting for an answer, he retook his wide stance and bowed down to his professor. "Again." He urged Ser Swann with a determined look.

The rains of spring had softened the ground, and both the knight and aspiring shield had to be mindful of their footsteps, so as to not land on their tired backs.

Allyn smiled, and shook his head. "Are you now, boy?" He obliged with a reply, "I think you're a seventeen-year-old blighter, who's bitten off more than he can chew."

His able taunting seemed to have worked.

No longer was Cain swinging his sword in circles, measuring his adversary with an aware look. Exactly like a dire wolf would after getting a whiff of fresh prey, the Waters bastard jumped into the leveling field, slashing his wooden blade directly at his opponent's head.

Allyn hummed in disapproval, and back-tracked to the right, faking a swing to his left side, before wiping Cain's feet off the ground with a wonky, but effective swipe.

"Again, Waters?" The knight asked with a click of his tongue. "This is the fifth time you fell for this exact same move. You may be as simple-minded as the Gods allow - but even a fool would learn from his mistakes once he swallowed mud once or twice."

As the boy lowered his gaze in undoubted guilt, his teacher offered him his hand, hoisting him off the field with a low grunt.

"Your mind is elsewhere, Cain. What is it that's bothering you?"

Eyes of the colour of steel clashed with Allyn's brilliant blues. A hoarse sigh left his parted lips, and Cain looked to the sky above them.

"I… I'm not ready." He admitted through gritted teeth. "Lady (Y/N) believes in me, but I'm not ready."

His simple sentence, his raw honesty, moved the greying knight.

He smiled tightly at the boy, resting a hand atop his heaving shoulder, and squeezed strongly.

"You are ready. You haven't the slightest idea of what you can do, should the situation call for it."

"Aye, I can fall straight on my ass. Maybe that'll distract my real opponents!"

"Cain." His professor interrupted him, "Long has it been since I last faced that eight-year-old boy who wanted nothing more than to prove himself."

Ser Swann's words brought a twisted smile to his lips, and (Y/N)'s protector mirrored his tired expression, as he huffed out a breath in disdain.

"I'm afraid I'll fail her." He muttered under his breath, looking in the general direction of his Lady's Quarters. "She believes in me, yes. But what if she's wrong?" A deep frown splits his forehead in three, wide creases. "Sometimes it feels like she must be."

"Only a real knight would ever admit to his weaknesses and less than stellar moments." Allyn encouraged him shortly. His eyes never once left Cain's, and the old Lord nodded his head briskly. "Lady Tully is not the only one who believes in you. Before her, Lord Hunter Redwyne believed in you."

A small chuckle broke Cain's reserved silence.

"If I remember correctly, he made you his steward exactly because he believed in you. After him, of course, went his sons and daughters. When the siege over Arbourtown took place, who was it that fought 100 men all by himself?"

"Hardly 100. It was 66 at best."

"Honesty. Another rare quality to find in a knight."

Cain's frustration welled in his eyes. "It's not honesty - it's a well-known truth!"

"Let me tell you something, Cain. It could have been a hundred men. Or it could have been thirty, or it could have been just one. The unrivaled truth remains: when everyone abandoned their post, you were the only one left standing in the West Wing of that castle."

A hefty silence settled off between the two.

"Plenty of people believed in you: plenty still do. And all of them were right to do so."

Cain's aching fists turned lax once Ser Allyn put an end to his trail of thought. "I…" He bit his cheek in an attempt to talk.

'Thank you.'

"I still have a lot to learn."

"That you do, boy. That you do." Allyn confirmed with a convinced jerk of his head. His eyes glimmered with pride, however, and, as he picked his sword back up, the man smiled at his driven apprentice.

"But I believe in you, and in the fact that you will make her proud."

"... It's nice to talk again like this."

Allyn's expression saddened for a moment, before it regained its familiar vigor.

"As I told you, lass. No matter how far you are, I'll always be somewhere with you. I'll be right here, at the tip of your sword, in your armor."

Ser Cain felt a tear run down his cheek, and the knight rose a hand to wipe it away from his face.

"I don't think I'll ever hold a sword again." He hummed painfully, but the older knight only shook his head.

"You haven't the slightest idea of what you can do, should the situation call for it." He repeated his words again. "Trust me, son. You will hold Faithkeeper again. … But now it's time for you to wake up."

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

***

"-- Are you waking up?!" The worried voice of a woman rang through the open field.

Cain felt his head jolting with pain - his limbs of a calming numbness, and his lips dried up.

He swallowed thickly, before opening his mouth to say, "Water… I need… water."

"Right on it, soldier." She amusedly said, bringing down her own flask to his waiting mouth.

He drank to his heart’s content, and only when the last droplets of the blessed liquid touched his throat, did Cain Waters stop to breathe.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing he said, as the unknown woman checked her poach for any remains of the water. “I didn’t think about the practicality of leaving some for later. … Or about you needing a sip.”

The last of his words greatly perplexed the brown-haired woman - she let out a mirthled laugh, and gently shook her head to the side. “At ease, Commander. We have more where that came from. Drink as much as you need to.”

Her amber eyes trailed over his bandaged hand, and, as he followed her stare with his own, Cain sighed in wallowing dread. His gaze turned curious, however, as he glanced at his shoulder, and wasn’t immediately greeted with the ghastly sight of a chopped-off arm.

A shocked look adorned his features, and the knight brought his left hand to feel the borders of his forming scar.

A painful sting stopped him in his tracks.

“I’d be careful with touching that arm so soon,” She tutted over his brash enthusiasm, “Your stitches are far from being healed. … And it’s not all that good and grand.”

Her sharp eyes softened slightly, and she let out a hardened breath.

“I’m very sorry. But we still had to cut off some of the infected fingers. With time, though, I’m sure you’ll hold your sword again.”

‘You will hold Faithkeeper again.’

Cain hummed in a lowly tone, as his eyes traveled back to the strange woman before him. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, until he finally settled on the least invasive sentence.

“I’m very grateful for your help,” He began carefully, while nibbling at his lower lip. “But who are you? And why would you save me?”

The girl’s eyebrows raised in beguilement, and she jokingly brought her hand to her chest, bowing deeply.

“My name is Mira Florent, of Brightwater Keep. I was a ward not long ago, under the esteemed tutelage of Lady Caswell. For eleven years, I served in Bitterbridge.” Taking in his every reaction with a curious look, Mira quirked her head to the side, and offered the knight a half-earnest smile. “And who might you be?”

“You didn’t answer my other question.” Cain tensed visibly, and the woman raised her hands out in false surrender.

“Indeed, I have not. I’d like to know who it is I’m talking to, as well, before I should waste all my breath away.”

The knight’s deep gaze settled on her downturned nose and inviting smile. He took in a deep breath, and propped his body on his healthy elbow. “I asked my questions first, my Lady.”

“And I demanded for answers, second.” Her voice rang out with a beaming laugh, and the older woman showed him her portrait-perfect grin. “No one here is in any position to make demands. … But please. I am not a Lady. There’s no need for you to address me as such”

Her easy-going attitude and fun behavior were almost enough reason for Cain to return her gracious smiles - still, the royal knight remained impassive, while nodding his head in quiet agreement.

“My name is Cain Waters, m’lady.” A short pause ensued, during which both healer and patient exchanged a diverted look, “Until recently, I served in Riverrun; I answer to the Tullies, the lords of the Riverlands.”

“I knew it!” Mira’s gleeful exclamation set Ser Cain back on his back. “It was fairly obvious by the crest in your armor. The trout lost its head, but the house colors are still as clear as day.”

“Is that why you decided to save me?” The man asked her tentatively.

“Well, that’s why we kept carrying you with us after patching you up, I suppose. But we would have tried to heal you either way.”

“We?” The Waters bastard questioned once again. “There’s more than just you around?”

“You don’t think I carried you all the way here by myself, right?” Her sarcastic question jabbed at his intellect, but her placid smile told the knight to relax, and put an end to his sporadic trail of thought. “It’s just me and my travel partner - he’s the one that wanted us to leave you at a crossroads end, by the way.”

A bemused smirk tugged at the corners of Cain’s chapped lips. “Then you have my full gratitude, m’lady - I have to say, I appreciate you not letting me die. Pray tell, does your companion have a name?”

An arch of her bushy eyebrows was the only telltale sign of Mira’s pending curiosity over Cain's meddlesome nature. She jerked her head to point at a silhouette near the fireplace, and she leaned over on a tree’s bark end.

“He does.” The woman said simply, and her expression turned somber for just a moment. “You take your profiling seriously, Cain Waters - his name is Albar. Albar of nothing, who serves under no one. Albar Stone.”

Cain’s face brightened slowly, as if he’d just been reminded of an old joke.

‘Us bastards always find a way to help one another.’

A rumbling laughter shook him in his laying spot, and the man gingerly shook his head after a passing while. “Another brother. I’ve a feeling we’ll get along just fine.”

Mira’s only reply was to shrug her shoulders, keeping quiet for the first time since they’d met. Her auburn eyes went over Cain’s shoulder, and she took in a deep breath. “You fought the Kinslayer, haven’t you?” She asked whilst playing with a silver pendant.

“You’re wearing the Tully crest - a house that openly pledged for the Blacks. Despite your heavy armor, your wound was of a clean cut. Too clean for a normal blade.” The Florent Lady awaited no confirmation from the laying man, as she went on, “I’ve been well acquainted with the deadly swords forged from Valyrian Steel. And there are only two people who wield such feats of war. Of course, only one of them who terrorizes our home.”

“Aye, that is true.” Cain let out after a low curse. “I regret not being swifter on my foot that day. It would’ve saved us a lot of trouble to slay him then and there.”

“Opportunities arise. And I’ve a feeling there will be another time for you to face him again.”

Cain’s forehead puckered at the last of her words, and his able hand pointed at the empty flask that now rested on her lower hip. “Oh, I would drink to that.” He bitterly laughed in earnest.

Mira’s posture ambled away, and she edged closer to the man’s plodded body. Silently, she got a hold of the bridles of the nearest horse, and offered Cain a lackluster smile. “I’ll hoist you up this saddle and we’ll keep walking towards the Vale.”

The muscles in Cain’s face tightened. His immediate thought went to (Y/N), his Lady, no doubt still stuck with Aemond in Harrenhal - that Gods' forsaken place.

His fist brandished in a tight hold, his head aligned to Mira’s working hands, and the knight tried to stop her musings with a firm palm over her waist.

“Wait -” He tried to reason, “I cannot go there. My Lady is still waiting for me, I cannot just abandon her.”

"Abandon your Lady?" Mira's eyes widened once more. She jumped up from the ground, and straightened her back in disbelief. "You're Lady Tully's personal knight? Is that why you fought the Kinslayer? You're telling me she's still alive?!"

Through an exhale, the male nodded. He cleared his throat with a loud cough, and scrunched his nose up in frustration.

"Indeed, m'lady. So you must understand me - I cannot forsake her. Not when she's still in the jaws of that one-eyed fucker."

Mira wiped the dust off her cotton pants, and grunted in agreement. She let out a tired breath, and clicked her tongue at his persistence.

"Well… you could have returned to Harrenhall, limping on your feet and all, if only you awoken a week ago. But we're less than an hour away from the Eyrie, Ser Cain." His crushed expression and gritted teeth softened the lady's resolve. "I warmly recommend you stick with us. Our road leads to the Arryns: we can drop you off to your Lord and you can take a while to recover."

"You slept for a very long time, Ser Cain. Everything you knew has changed in these last couple of weeks. Getting acquainted to your new situation will do you well."

Alys never dreamt. At least, she never once recalled what her dreams were about.

Such was the way of things for her, and she didn’t mind it - that was, until tonight.

Stilling images of her in his arms, of his soft lips upon the Tully's face made her shake with anger and betrayal well into the first callings of dawn.

Morning came and went, and the afternoon spent itself with her clasping her hands together, in the comfort of her room, thinking on what to do.

Her rattling worry wasn’t as much about her love for him, as it was for the frightening thought that if the Crown Prince didn’t want her anymore, she'd find her death by the sharp end of his sword.

The Rivers witch gulped thickly, and brought her hands over her neck and bump.

Aemond was capable of many things. But he wouldn't risk killing his child. Right?

The Tully girl had to go. The conclusion was a natural reach, and an expected one, at that: it was the only solution to her ticking problem.

A slight arch of her brow sent her thoughts adrift. How would she take care of it all? She gave the haughty Lady the chance to escape, and she failed - miserably. Now, she had no more allies left in Harrenhal, and no access to any amount of privacy.

The memory of Aemond's rage sent a cold shiver down her spine. Not once during her long life, did she witness a sight more fearful to behold, than the one of the One-Eyed Prince when angered. Hundreds died the day of her escape, and thousands more would keep on suffering, if ever she should break free again.

The Tully girl had to go. And then Aemond would be hers again.

Her prayers were answered when, sometime along the laid-in dusk, his footsteps echoed through the long hallway of her keep.

She waited for him in her small framed bed, eagerly aligning her hips to the side, to strike a more seductive pose.

… But when Aemond reached her doorstep, his eye carried a solemn, and resigned expression.

"The maids tell me she won't eat." He told her worriedly, opting for that instead of his usual greeting. He reached her bedside with two wide steps, and wordlessly took a seat while rubbing his temples. "She's punishing me."

Alys staggered a frustrated breath, and tried to calm herself back down. Her left leg moved to tease Aemond's crotch, and she chuckled appealingly.

"Must we worry about her all the time…? She'll eat when she gets really hungry." Alys dismissed his inquiry with a small caress, "In the meantime, I'm sure I could take your mind off things…"

Within a second, Aemond's hand was wrapped softly on her neck. "Stop that." He chastised her cruelly, "I'm not in the mood."

"You never are, as of late." She muttered dryly, but regretted her words instantly, when she felt his long fingers squeeze over her larynx tentatively. "I-I only meant to say that I missed you." She quickly intervened, while entangling her hand with his in a forlorn attempt to redeem herself.

Aemond hummed tiredly, and, as if he finally registered what he was doing, the man let go of her dainty neck.

Quietness washed over them, and Alys' eyes welled with the threat of tears, until Aemond spoke up.

"I want you to keep an eye on her. Become her friend, if you must."

The detachment with which he spoke wounded Alys' pride, but, as she massaged her neck, the woman only sighed. "Befriend her, Aemond?"

"Do whatever you think is right." He uttered once again. "Starting tomorrow, you'll be her maid - you'll make sure she eats when I'm not here; you'll make sure she doesn't think of a way to escape."

Her ears reddened from the deep wound laid upon her enlarged ego. Alys huffed in disbelief, and promptly shook her head. "What…?" She asked her lover. "So you want me to feed her and empty her chamber pot?"

"Don't act as if this work would be beneath you, love." Aemond tutted as he raised up from his taken seat. "I've already made up my mind: you will take care of her while I'm not around. And you will make her like it here."

The urgency in his words muffled out any other attempted protest. Alys' fists were clenched at her sides, and the older woman was biting down on her lower lip. "As you wish, Your Grace." She hissed past her tightened lips, while looking at him desperately.

As she noticed him turn around to leave, the Rivers witch shot up straight. "You won't stay?" She asked Aemond in a strangled tone.

"I have some business to attend to."

Aemond prayed before his dinners. As if that would make them any better.

As if that would help him swallow his guilt, or scatter it over the ghosts that he himself created.

As if that would deter the Gods to forgive him for his sins.

The pair stood quietly at the polished oak table, surrounded by naught but fermented wine and copious amounts of meat. For a while, all seemed well.

The cutlery broke a sound every once in a while, and Aemond's deep breaths turned the room's atmosphere heavy.

Eventually, it all built up to be too much.

"Is the food not to your liking?" His velvety smooth voice asked the girl before his eye.

With her hands still in her lap, now gripping her fingers painfully, Lady Tully replied, "... It's nothing of the sort. I'm just not hungry right now."

Aemond stared blankly into her eyes, until his scorching orb settled on her lips instead. Lustful thoughts of what he dreamt the night before plagued his mind, but the Prince merely shook his head, whilst taking a sip of the wine.

"You haven't eaten anything today." He muttered through a raised eyebrow, and a ghost of a forced smile. "Surely you must be famished."

The muscles on (Y/N)'s face twitched in annoyance. She jerked her foot from under the table, and turned her eyes back to her untouched plate.

"... As I said, I'm not feeling very hungry." She leaned further away, and the firelight of the wide, lit room, danced across her face with glorious shades of red and amber.

"Very well." Aemond asserted quietly, after letting out a hoarse curse in High Valyrian. Soon, the Prince turned his attention back to the illuminated room, without sparing the girl another glance.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and coughed in the back of his hand a couple of times.

Each time she heard his attempts to clear his throat, the girl clenched her jaw tighter and tighter.

Neither spoke anymore, until Aemond sighed deeply.

"Does…" He began, but closed his mouth once again. His face turned into a sour scowl, his pale cheeks reddened, and the man forced himself to keep going, despite the hardness with which such a question came to him. "Does your wrist hurt you at all?"

A quick reminder to the other night.

The lady's eyes snapped forward, unsure of whether or not she'd heard him correctly. Were she not in this unpleasant situation herself, the woman would have laughed at the Prince's awkwardness; no less his stupid question.

Instead of laughing, she took in a shaky breath, which she exhaled almost immediately, before replying curtly. "It doesn't hurt." Her eyes closed and her brows furrowed in concentration.

Distaste for him, for what she was about to say, filled her weary heart and mouth.

"... Thank you for the inquiry, My Prince, that was very kind of you."

She wanted to scream and shout the moment his daft fingers gripped her own, and the Kinslayer tried to caress her, despite his hand's deep callouses. Still, she remained poised.

She was all alone now, and she had to play it smart.

(Y/N)'s breath caught in her throat, and her shoulders tensed visibly from under her green dress. Slowly, yet surely, she wiggled her hand free from under his palm, and placed it above her thigh once more.

If her movement displeased Aemond, then the Prince didn’t show it. His hand twitched atop the table, and he clenched it momentarily. But just as soon as his action was executed, it was covered by the Targaryen's mellow voice.

"Try to eat something tonight. And whatever it is that you'd like on the morrow, you can tell your maid to bring you."

Maid…?

Confusion made its way across her face. And, not even waiting for her to ask that eager question, Aemond dipped his head lowly and replied.

"The days are hard and long - prisoner or not, My Lady. While in Harrenhal, you are still a royal, and will be treated as such."

(Y/N) felt as if she could do nothing else but laugh. She envisioned her life in Harrenhal drift in a lot of different ways - though no thought of hers deterred her to believe she'd be taken care of by Aemond's older lover.

Of course, she jested lightly to herself. In the end, I am but a prisoner. And Aemond only has one eye.

Her hands were tied. And so were Alys Rivers', who looked none the happier to be rooted at her bedside table, judging by her tight expression.

"We don't have to play his game, you know." The girl hushed in her direction, as she kneeled down to help her change the ruined bed sheets.

Green eyes washed over her smaller form, holding an icy glimmer in them. But, despite her obvious discontent at her words, Alys remained quiet.

"You've known Aemond for longer than I," She kept going in the afternoon. "But we can both agree he has a dangerous character." Her lack of cooperation irked the lady to no end.

She dreaded the silence she was greeted with.

Hopelessly, she watched Alys wipe the last corner of the room - the girl observed how she turned on her heel, bowing at her without sparing her a second glance, and made her way toward the doors of her chambers.

"What do you think will happen once I tell Aemond that you helped Cain plan my escape?" She asked in a neutral tone.

For the first time that day, the Rivers bastard whipped her head around, and kneeled to the floor to gather up the dropped cloth. Despite her neutral smile, her voice was shaking. "You're trying to blackmail me?"

"I'm trying to help myself. ... And help you."

The woman let out a roaring laugh. "I am carrying the child of the dragon, girl. He wouldn't dare hurt me."

"Are you that sure?" The hardened look on (Y/N)'s face let no emotion stand out. Still, her eyes remained honest, truthful in her questions, and the wood witch let out an ample sigh.

"I know you don't want me here." The Lady raised her head in bold admission, "Believe me, I am the last person to be happy with this arrangement. This is your home. This is supposed to be your room and your rightful bed. On that, you'll hear no argument from me."

As her speech came to an abrupt end, Alys furrowed her brows in unexpected shock. She was quick to collect herself, and shield her shaking body by crossing her arms.

"We're more similar than we'd allow ourselves to think, Alys. We both want me gone and far, far away from here."

With a tentative look in her eyes, the Lady of Riverrun approached Alys' heaving body. She took her hands in hers and squeezed them reassuringly.

A strained chuckle parted from the elder's lips. She jerked her hands away and shot her an unfeeling look. "What would you have me do?" She interfered with a cutting voice. "You forget yourself - and I. I'm just a woman in this Keep, the same as you. If you think I hold any power over anyone here, you'd be sorely mistaken."

(Y/N) shook her head, and allowed a crooked smile to grace her tired features. She quirked her eyebrow at the woman's words, and only hummed disprovingly.

"I may not know you, Alys Rivers. But I know you are a smart and conniving woman. You lived all your life in Harrenhal, or so I heard."

Her harsh tone cut through the deadly silence of the room.

"I'm sure you kept at least a secret passage to yourself, and away from Aemond. It's not like us to keep all our eggs in the same basket... So, I want you to teach me all you know about this castle.”

A jocund expression seeped into Alys' pores. She clicked her tongue at (Y/N)'s words, and huffed out a wired breath. “Foolish girl. If anything should go wrong, Aemond will kill us both.”

A small pause, followed by a muttered curse ensued after Alys’ warning. Once her eyes locked on the Lady again, she frowned as she nodded her head.

"You have yourself a deal."

Taglist:

@bellameshipper @ohitsthemaster @kravitzwhore @virginslut08 @hiatuswhore @somemydayy

Translations:

"Bona iksos issa sȳz riñītsos" = That's my good little girl;

"Byka hontes" = Little dove;

"Issa jorrāelagon" = My love;

“Issa dōna, byka jorrāelagon” = My sweet, little love;

"Ābrazyrys" = Wife;

“Nyke istan nykeā vala hen gaomilaksir se rigo gō nyke mazilībagon laesi va ao. Se ao… ao… ao mazverdagon issa aylik hae lo nyke daor…” = I was a man of duty and honor before I set eyes on you. And you… You… You make me feel as if I am no longer…;

“Ao issi nykeā quptenka ābra qilōni insalvak nykeā dārys hen ānogar.” = You are a common woman who enslaved a prince of the blood;

“Ao taenor issa. Aōha elēni, aōha laesi, aōha relgos, aōha maelki - aōha olvie perhas iksos surokvis issa. Issi ao biare? Issi ao biare rūsīr skoros ao gōntan naejot issa?” = You tempted me. Your voice, your eyes, your lips, your soul - your very presence is seducing me. Are you happy? Are you happy with what you did to me?

"Gaomagon ao ūndegon sepār skorkydoso kraj ao issi, issa jorrāelagon? Aemond Mēre-Laes, se kipagīros hen Vhagar sen se Dārys mīsio hen Westeros… aōhon. Isse prūmia, haevisis, se maelki." = Do you see just how powerful you are, my love? Aemond One-Eye, the Rider of Vhagar and the Prince Protector of the Realm… yours. In heart, body, and soul.

"Gevie līve, ny dōna byka rene" = Beautiful witchling, my sweet little slut;

[lost-in-fandoms]

Your wingfics live rent free in my head. I can't stop thinking about it. They were so good omg. It's such a beautiful universe, so amazing ♥️ Do you plan to write more about it? 🥹♥️ I hope so but if the answer is no, I will read them again and again because I love them ♥️😍

adsfndjd anon you are the sweetest!!! I'm so happy you enjoyed them and were so kind to tell me, I really appreciate it!

Sadly, I can't promise anything for the future tbh. I have been really struggling with getting back into writing after a really long drought, and I'm giving my brain the chance to just put down whatever it fancies, instead of forcing myself to write something specific just for the sake of it. I am always open to be prodded by an ask like this or a prompt though so always feel free to drop by! A lot of the things I write don't actually live in a wider universe, they just spawn out of nowhere, get thrown down on paper, and disappear in the void, but usually I can still create more around it if someone asks. Another reason why I really appreciate you saying this, because for once my wingfic does have a wider universe around it, and I am always glad to put one more snippet into it.

This is little baby Max in his first year in the rbr seat (part 1 and part 2)

cw: mentions of Jos not being a great father related to unsafe and painful wing care practices, description of said practices, littlest blood mention

Max doesn't like his wings.

He doesn't dislikes them either, but if he could get rid of them, he would. First of all, he can't actually use them to fly, his bones aren't hollow and his back muscles aren't powerful enough anyway, so having wings that don't actually work seems like a taunt from the universe. They're also very inconvenient when driving. Papa has taught him how to keep them clipped to lower their weight, and how to keep them tightly bound in an harness to have them take up less space in a kart, but neither of those things is exactly pleasant. Sometimes, when he drives for too long, his whole back spasms because of his wings being constricted, and sometimes when he clips too much, his wings bleed and molting becomes painful.

It's worth it, of course, to be able to race faster and better, but a part of him does wish he just had Papa's fish scales, or even Mama's diaphanous dragonfly wings.

Cleaning his wings is also annoying, because it's hard sometimes to reach all the spots, and after long days on the track it feels like there will be itchy dust and grit clinging onto them forever.

He's not one to get stuck on made-up scenarios, but it doesn't mean he has to like them.

--

Daniel is not the first bird-winged racer he meets, of course, but he is his first teammate. He has a completely different relationship with his wings than Max, always keeping them shiny and clean, no clipping or binding. He seems to love them and to love taking care of them, parading them around and showing them off.

Max doesn't understand. Not that it matters, he doesn't need to understand Daniel to be able to beat him, but. It's not that he's jealous, he's not, but sometimes he feels the heaviness of his wings on his back, skin irritated by the dirt stuck to it, looking patchy where he's taking longer to molt, and he wishes. He wants.

Most of the time though, he knows it's just a waste of time, to care about how they look so much, when it doesn't even matter, when it doesn't affect his driving.

And then one day, Daniel doesn't knock.

Max is carefully peeling his race suit off his shoulders, hissing slightly when it goes over his bound wings, when the door slams open.

"Maxy, hey, have you seen..." Daniel doesn't finish his sentence, eyebrows knotting together, eyes zeroed on Max's back.

Max feels his skin prickling under his gaze and he's almost tempted to do his suit up again, but his wings are aching, and he wants to take a shower, so he just turns around to face Daniel, frowning just as hard.

"What do you want?" he snaps, hating the way he feels his cheeks heat up. He doesn't know why he's reacting like this, he's done nothing wrong, but the way Daniel is looking at him, a mix of unbelieving and horrified, makes him feel ashamed.

"Do you always do that?" Daniel asks instead of answering his question, taking a step forward. Max instinctively takes a step back, bumping into the massage table behind him, hating himself for not standing his ground. It's his driver room, Daniel has no right to judge him in here.

"Do what, Daniel?"

He goes to cross his arms, but the movement tugs on his still trapped wings, making him wince. He wants Daniel to leave, so he can finally finish undressing, but Daniel steps even closer instead.

"Do you always keep your wings like that? Max, that's dangerous!"

Max decides to ignore the worry in Daniel's voice, feeling himself bristle.

"I am of course able to drive safely!"

"Drive?" Daniel gives a short laugh, so different from his usual one Max feels himself shiver. He wishes he had more space to put between them. "I am not talking about driving, I am talking about your wings!"

Max opens his mouth, ready to tell him to leave him alone, when his back spasms, a hot flash of pain traveling from his neck down his spine, wings straining against the constrains, and what comes out is a strangled gasp instead.

A second later, Daniel's hands are on his shoulders, forcing him to turn around with a swear.

"Did you put this on this morning? Let me help you take it off."

Daniel doesn't give him a chance of answering, fingers already working on the buckles on Max's side, as Max scrambles to push him away.

"No, no, you cannot, you have to..." he breathes in sharply as the harness start to loosen, wings cramping as they try to flutter, eyes snapping close.

"Max, you need to..."

"Slow," Max interrupts him, clutching at the straps to keep them from slipping open all at the same time. "You have to, one at a time."

He doesn't open his eyes again as he undoes them carefully, feeling Daniel hover just in front of him, keeping his wings tightly pressed against his back until he can slip the straps over his shoulders and down his waist.

"Max..." Daniel doesn't try to touch him again, but Max can hear the stress in the way his vocal cords curl around his name, mixing it with an involuntary warble.

Max ignores him. This is always the worst part, but he is practiced enough to make it go quickly.

He takes a breath, wrapping his right arm around his waist until he is able to grasp his left wing's tip, and then holds it as he works it open, fingers sliding along the length of it, straightening feathers as they come. Pain shoots through it, his back burning, his shoulders tensing, but when it's fully open, he works to close it again, and then it's done, just a dull ache left behind.

He lets himself take two deep breaths before repeating the whole thing with the other.

When both wings are resting along his back again, he shifts his shoulders, trying to get rid of the tension there, and then finally opens his eyes.

Daniel is looking at him, eyes wide and horrified, mouth slightly open. His hands are shaking. Max doesn't know what to say.

"It is of course fine, see?" is what he settles for, fluttering his wings to prove it. It's slightly painful, especially his left one where he clipped a bit too much and is bleeding a little, but Daniel doesn't need to know that.

"Fine?" Daniel chokes out, eyes widening impossibly more. "You're hurting yourself! That's not safe, Max!"

Max scoffs, letting the harness fall on the massage bed and pulling his undershirt off, carefully easing his wings through the slits in the back.

"I'm fine, Daniel."

For a second, it looks like Daniel is going to scream at him, eyes narrowing and fists closing, and Max wonders if it would be inappropriate for him to flee the room half naked, but then all the fight seems to leave Daniel's body. He sags a little, raising a hand to drag it across his face and sighing, shaking his head to himself.

"Listen, I don't know why you've decided this is the right thing to do to yourself, but you're going to take a shower, and when you're done we'll go back to the hotel, and I'll preen your wings."

Max opens his mouth, ready to argue with him, he has data to go over before tomorrow's qualifying, but Daniel doesn't give him a chance to, turning around and leaving the room as quickly as he had come in.

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Let me tell you now, you're the lucky one

(Enemies to Enemies Who Fuck)

(HaruKaku in Bonten timeline)

(some past-MuSan and past-KakuIza with a subtle RanOmi bc why not, it's my fic and I don't have self-restrain when it comes to multishipping)

(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat!

All of them. Bonten is their own warning. Substance abuse. Really unhealthy coping mechanisms. Depression. Mental health problems. Suicide. Major character death. (it's Bonten, they all want to kill themselves and some of them succeed, okay?) Mentions of unsafe sex, but there is no smut or graphic depiction of it.

I tried to not be too graphic with any of this topics, the focus is mostly on what the characters are thinking/feeling. But it's hard anyway, tbh the last scene was actually difficult and painful for me to write. So please, don't take the CW lightly and prioritize your mental health!

Angst and Hurt/No Comfort.

MANGA SPOILERS!!!!

Notes: HaruKaku came as an hilarious idea. Because they are hilarious, let's be real. Soulmates archnemesis, doomed to hate each other in every timeline. But then Bonten happened and of course, I ended up writing some angsty shit instead of focusing in all the other moments when they are hilarious. Kudos for me, yey! 🥲

This is canon complicit (again, is Bonten, beware!)

It alternates from Kakucho's POV to Sanzu's POV. I did that thing again of using "Haruchiyo" when he's in his most vulnerable state because for some reason I like playing with his name like this.

(English is not my first language, be nice please 🙈)

(the art is from @just-sp-in-inginthevoid who is in part responsible for the archnemesis brain riot, but mostly the hilarious part, tbh)

Is not that Kakucho enjoys Sanzu's company. Or that the pinkette gradually started to grow on him. Quite the opposite, to be honest. He hates him a little bit more every day, every shared mission, every time they had to spent hours together.

But with Sanzu, he feels. He feels intensely, he feels with passion. Even if it's twisted, at least he's not empty anymore. The void that threatens to devour him seems to disappear when he's around the other man. Sometimes, Kakucho wants to murder him, but he knows he can't. Others, he wonders what would happen to him if he also loses the only person that it's still able to provoke an intense emotion on him.

Hate is better than apathy, isn't it?

They hate each other passionately. Sanzu finds his reactions too funny for stopping it, always willing to go a little further, to push Kakucho to the edge. It's too easy to pick on him, making him forget about his allegedly righteous patience.

It's disgusting, how Kakucho thinks of himself like he was better than the rest of them. So Sanzu enjoys to proves him wrong, to show him that they are the same (even if he can't stand that fact either, seeing that burning rage in those heterochromatic eyes makes it worth it).

Now that he thinks about it, it was probably a matter of time, considering that his king denied them the right to kill each other, they needed to find a way of releasing all that build up anger. That's probably why isn't that surprising when it finally happens.

It looked like a regular night. Sanzu was high as a kite, trying to forget every one of his lives. Kakucho just seemed to be there, he can't recall exactly why, some type of report, but he didn't pay any attention to it at the moment, too intoxicated for actually caring for something that could wait until tomorrow.

“Why are you still here? You like me that much or what?”

The pinkette man says, slurring his words.

“Are you that high? You know I hate you.”

Is the harsh answer that he earns. It's brutal, but real. Kakucho's honesty has something that grounds him to the present. It's sickening. It's exactly what he wants right now.

“I hate you too, don't worry.” He laughs, finding his own words amusing. “Think about it, me and you. Just us, hating each other all night long.”

“You're crazy.”

“And you didn't say no.”

(If he was more honest with himself, he would admit that he was trying to find another way of punishing his broken mind and his body. But he's not.)

And oh, it actually feels good. Kakucho fucks him with the same brutality that talks to him. He couldn't bear any type of gentle touch (specially not from someone that it's so linked to Mucho, but he isn't thinking in that, he promised himself to forget his old captain a long time ago).

There isn't any type of care between them, only spite. Both men are too broken for having the ability to love someone again. Indeed, this was precisely what he needed. This is perfect.

The next day, Kakucho feels nauseated. How couldn't he? Sanzu was high as fuck, too intoxicated to give proper consent to do anything. So even if he was also a little drunk, even if it wasn't his idea, Kakucho feels guilty for what happened.

Until Sanzu just laughs at his poorly attempt of apologizing, mocking his morals once more. He was about to punch him in the face, but the lingering guilt doesn't allow him to do it. Not that one more bruise would make a difference, actually.

Both are covered in so many marks that more than sex, it looks like they tried to kill each other. Yeah, maybe he should stop feeling sorry for Sanzu, considering this. Maybe that was the best way to get rid of that not-so-pent-up hate.

And it works. At least for a while, it works. Until it happens again. And again.

Is not that they are lovers (Kakucho wants to puke with that idea). They just fuck from time to time. That's all. They hate each other, they wish they could kill the other. But they can't. So, sometimes, they fuck.

Their relationship is not pretty. At all. Or better. If Kakucho had to use only one word for describing it, he would say “real”. They don't lie to each other, what would be the point? Both are too able of seeing between the lies, they are too similar in so many ways. But that raw honesty only makes it worse.

Kakucho knows it's a mistake, that he shouldn't care about Sanzu's fate (he brought it on himself and he doesn't seem to have any complains). But Mikey is worse every day, the king is falling and his loyal dog is falling with him. Kakucho needs to do something, because the uneasiness he feels every time he sees them is now living rent-free in his mind.

That's why, one day, Kakucho tries. He's trying to find his clothes, dressing quickly, wanting to get out of this room that only makes him feel sick. Then, he looks at Sanzu, his pink hair scattered on the pillows, a lazy and satisfied smile than only appears after sex (and never lasts). There is some twisted vulnerability in how content the other man is while lighting up a joint, as if seeing these new swelling (all this pain) on his skin was something he wanted.

(Kakucho can't shake the feeling that Sanzu is using him as another way of hurting himself and that infuriates him so fucking much... Maybe that's the real reason why he decides against his best judgment and opens his big mouth.)

“Is not worth it.”

“Uh?”

Sanzu looks at the other, not sure if he actually heard something. He just wants to smoke and relax, to feel the post-orgasmic satisfaction while it lasts, to enjoy the pain in his body (one more of his little punishments).

“I said is not worth it. Dying with Mikey.”

If it had been anyone else, Sanzu would shoot him in the face just for saying this. Thinking like that, talking like that about his king is treason. It should be. But it's difficult to pretend Kakucho's isn't right about this when, unfortunately, it's the only one Sanzu trusts with Mikey's well-being (It's the one he calls every time Mikey is being suicidal again).

“You wish you could be me, you wish you had died with Izana.”

Sanzu spits his words, burning with all the rage he feels every time he has to acknowledge the reality of how is Mikey.

“That's not what this is about-”

Kakucho is unable to finish his sentence, turning pale in anger when Sanzu cuts him. 'Good'.

“You're a selfish bastard, aren't you? You want me to be like you, stuck here with no purpose, jerking yourself with the memory of a ghost. Pretend it's because of your high morals, that you're worried about me or some other bullshit. But you're just another selfish bastard. And you envy me.”

If it had been anyone else, Sanzu would shoot him in the face. But he can't (he wants to, oh, he wants it so much, but he can't disobey Mikey's orders). So, instead of bullets, he uses his words.

“At least Izana cared about me.”

Is the last thing he hears before Kakucho slams the door. Sanzu laughs maniacally, throwing the first shit he can find to the place the other man was a few seconds a go. He's momentary satisfaction long forgotten, replaced only by hate (and pain, but one that he refuses to see).

The worst part is that in a sickening way, he trusts Kakucho. They don't lie to each other, that makes it so much worse, because both of them know that what the other said is true. He hates him, he hates him with every fiber of his body. He doesn't want this words to be true, he can't accept that. He needs to keep living in this denial, to pretend Mikey is fine (to pretend he doesn't keep mixing this Mikey with that in his nightmares, to pretend they don't look so alike).

It's been three days. Three whole days since Mikey's death was splattered on the news (no one seems to care about Takemichi's death, even with all that footage of how the hero tried to save the most dangerous man in Japan). Kakucho cares, but he knows damn well that he wouldn't be welcomed within the hero's friends, so he would have to say goodbye in his own way (again).

During this days, Kakucho learned some things, like the fact that apparently everyone had some kind of contingency plan in case this happened (no, for when this happened, all of them could see that Mikey was more on the edge every day). But nobody spoke to him about it, keeping him in the darkness, the only idiot that didn't prepare himself for the end. Well, not the only, he knows that, of course he knows that.

(Sanzu would have killed them in the blink of an eye. Anyone who dared to imply that Bonten needed to be prepared to function without a king.)

Kakucho understands the need for secrets, of course he does. The idea of Mikey falling would be considered treason a few days ago, it was taboo to think like that. At the same time, none of them wanted to acknowledge it, like saying it out loud would make it more real. He can't even be mad when the Haitanis (obviously) thought about him on their own schemes, making sure Kakucho was also safe. Or as safe as any of them could be now that Bonten was crumbleling.

It's been three days. Bonten is crumbleling. Mikey is dead. And Sanzu disappeared the same day. Everyone knows he's dead, but they don't say it. Not in front of Takeomi, who's still desperately looking, going out in the rain for hours. Trying to find something, some clue that leads him to his little brother. Clinging to the hope that he's still alive somewhere. That he's going to find him, high as fuck, but alive (Kakucho thinks being able to find Sanzu's body at all would already be a miracle).

Only Ran is able to convince Takeomi to rest a little bit, promising that he and Rindou will help with the search as long as the older man gets a few hours of sleep. Takeomi just nods, mumbling “Today is his birthday, Ran. Is his fucking birthday and he's out there alone.” while Ran drags him softly, a concerned look plastered in those violet eyes.

Kakucho hates it, hates having to see all this sorrow around him (again). He doesn't lament the loss of Mikey and Sanzu, he's incapable of doing it. Grief took his heart for hostage a long time ago, there is nothing more for him to mourn.

More than anything, Kakucho hates himself, because he's jealous of Sanzu. He knows he shouldn't, but he hates that the pinkette man was right about him. He envies Sanzu, who had the privilege of dying with Mikey, of dying with his king.

Kakucho hates the Mad Dog even more right now. But he's aware that once this hate fades away, he would feel empty again. So he clings onto this feeling, he needs this rage as a motor to keep moving.

It doesn't matter if this energy is fulled with rage, he needs it. He can't fail his friends, what's left of his family. Kakucho has to keep living even if he can't remember how being alive felt anymore. Even if he's more dead inside every day.

So, over and over... Kakucho would keep living.

The rain keeps pouring down without truce, Haruchiyo shrinks inside the leather jacket that was always too big for him. Now the only thing that makes him feel protected from that annoying rain (from the world). To be honest, he isn't completely aware how he managed to recover it from his penthouse, but it seemed important in that moment.

The jacket and the old picture that he's still clutching in his pocket, the only two things he cared enough to take. He doesn't even need to look at it to see the four happy smiles stained with watermelon juice. Two pink haired kids that could be confused by twins, one with a shy smile, the other with a cheerful one, happy to be included with his brother friends. Next, a fierce smile showing two small fangs, already a force of nature at his young age. In the middle, a blond kid with the most radiant smile Haruchiyo ever saw, capable of making everything shine just with his presence. Full of life, of dreams. Full of potential. Brighter than the sun, a true leader.

But that was a long time ago and, once again, Sanzu is the only one who remembers. The man staggering in the rain is now the only survivor from that photo. Only him, alone in this fuck up world where nothing and no one matters anymore. Not without Mikey. Even Bonten can burn from what he cares.

He keeps walking (it feels more like floating for him, floating in a cloud of pain and numbness at the same time). Until he finally reaches his destination, an abandoned bowling alley. Sanzu enters in some kind of trance, not sure if he's dissociating or too intoxicated. He doesn't care.

He sits down exactly in the same place his king sat down. How many days had passed since that moment? One? Two? Ages. It certainly feels like ages for him. Haruchiyo hugs himself, trying to make space for his legs inside the big comforting jacket. Completely curled up. And he cries, he cries like he hasn't allowed himself to do so in the last ten years.

He's starting to sober up, he can feel it. Because the flashbacks are coming back. Shinichiro jumping from that bridge. Mikey jumping from this exact building. Mikey falling from the stairs, that awful “clonk”. Mikey jumping again from this building.

Haruchiyo screams, holding his head with both hands, begging the images to stop, unable to continue reliving those memories. He needs everything to stop, to be quiet, his shattered mind can't take it anymore.

He takes out a small box from his pocket, looking at the content. Everything he needs is here, he knows how to do it, how to make sure he's not going to wake up from this trip. His stupid hands are shaking while he gets the syringe ready.

For some reason, he suddenly remembers Kakucho's words a few months ago. He hates it, he hates thinking in that fucker when he's about to die. But the other man was right, wasn't he? Mikey never cared about Sanzu, he spent years of his life trying to keep his king alive and it was all for nothing. Everything blew up in one night.

A manic laugh escapes between his whimpers. Of course is that, he's fucking jealous. Sanzu is fucking jealous because at least Kakucho got to held Izana's hand when he died, he got to comfort his king in his last moments. Sanzu didn't had that, Hanagaki was the one holding Mikey's hand. Always that cockroach, never him.

What did he expect anyway? Haruchiyo is just a failure. He never deserved to be the one making his king last moments less painful. Of course, he should had known. He failed everyone. He failed Shinichiro, unable to protect Mikey, to be the friend he promised he would be. He failed Mikey, watching him falling into the darkness, becoming the same empty shell he already saw in a past that never happened, and doing nothing about it.

Sanzu doesn't have anything left. He also killed his own chance of happiness a long time ago (he also failed his captain, didn't he?). The only thing left for him is to disappear, to follow his king. He's going with him, because he's being following Mikey for so long, that he doesn't see any other choice. He's going with him, because he doesn't deserve to keep living when he couldn't save Mikey.

But it's fine, the drug is already kicking in, his body feels more relaxed. Even his mind seems to be quiet, almost in peace. He looks at the old photo one last time, before drifting out of consciousness, looking for safety in the inner part of the leather, pretending it smells like cheesecake.

It's fine, because at the end of the day... Haruchiyo was just a failure.

[sbbarnes]

Hockey Romances. Why?

So I was taken out of work a couple weeks ago due to ~pregnancy stuff~ (mostly just stress, the baby and I are fine) which has left me with a lot of spare time on my hands. And as one does, I have been filling my time reading lgbtq+ romance novels. Because I can.

In this time, I have fallen headfirst into the hockey romance novel subgenre, and I ask myself, as I have done every time I see these books advertised, why? I am not a sports fan. One time, my husband was watching football (European), and a team in red kits was playing against yellow kits, and I started laughing because "it looks like ketchup is playing against mustard". His expression was great, but he hasn't taken me seriously since.

So why is hockey of all things such a draw for the mlm romance subgenre? Especially given the NHL's apparent fear of rainbow tape? Why do I now know what the word "celly" refers to and what an "enforcer" is? Why why why?

Here are my answers:

Extremely organic way to set up some of the most classic romance tropes. Forced proximity? Being on the same team takes care of that. There was only one bed? Shared hotel rooms during away games. Enemies to lovers? Rival teams.

Lots of potential for drama given that players lead very transient lives in terms of the constant possibility of trades. In mlm love stories, even more so given that the NHL is so blatantly homophobic.

Perfect level of fame. Fame and wealth as a draw for a love interest are kind of staples of the genre, and NHL players are famous, sure, but not all of them, and they aren't as famous as football stars (either kind of football). They are still filthy rich, which makes great wish fulfillment. You can have the sexy penthouse and the anonymity.

I would go on to talk about how different roles on the team lend themselves to different tropes (goalie = tightly controlled dude who needs someone to help him cut loose; enforcer = misunderstood fighter with a heart of gold; coach for all your forbidden love/sleeping with the boss desires) but that would very quickly reveal my utter lack of hockey knowledge, so let's not. Instead, here's a quick reclist.

Rachel Reid's Game Changers series. It's a classic in the genre for a reason and it has everything. Forbidden love? Got that, maybe the definitive example. Redemption arc? Got that. Misunderstood bruiser with a heart of gold? Got that. Age difference? Got that. Also really excellent sex scenes, not gonna lie, and satisfying endings throughout - sometimes a happy end will come a little suddenly for me, but these books really delivered, and the nice thing about how romance series are structured is that you get a little peek at what comes after for the couples in the other books.

2. Him, Us and Epic by Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy. This one surprised me, I don't generally go for first person POVs, but I did enjoy this! Coming-of-age story turned coming out story featuring a budding hockey star and his best friend. Lots of fun.

3. Scoring Chances series by Avon Gale. This series is fun in that it doesn't focus on the NHL, it actually focuses on the minor leagues in the southeast of the US, a place almost no one associates with ice hockey. As such, there's a chance to tell different stories about professional athletes who aren't super rich and famous, which I appreciate a lot. TBH the first pairing wasn't entirely my cup of tea, but I'm glad I kept going because I especially enjoyed the later books, which tackle tough topics (including eating disorders, abuse etc., so content warning for that). These are still romance novels though, so rest assured that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. What I especially appreciate is that these books don't have relationship drama, in that the main couples communicate and work together instead of a third act break-up-make-up!

4. Hockey Ever After series by Ashlyn Kane and Morgan James. These are just great. Lots of fun to read, lots of cameos from character in later books, just excellent mood all around. Also features my favorite ever trope (secret relationship, sorry, anyone who knows me knows I am a sucker for it I just can't help myself) heavily, which is a win in my book. I especially enjoyed book two, "Scoring Position". Is that because Nico is German and I loved him? Is that because Ryan is my new blorbo? We may never know.

Happy reading and please give me recommendations for more books like these, I'm lowkey obsessed.

[cuephrase]

What are some things introduced new52 to current day that you like and think are an overall net positive for batfam continuity? (As in, it's not uncommon for me to see fan things that mainly focus on post crisis/pre flashpoint stuff but still incorporate new comic aspects, such as slightly changed family dynamics/new developments, and it's interesting for me to find out what different people think is and isn't worth keeping from what got added after the reboot)

ooooh this is a fun question!!

i was going to say i haven't read that many n52 and onwards runs, and then i realized i have actually read most of the ones i want to, i just haven't read any batman/'tec/batgirl/or duke's runs yet. (i read like...half of We Are Robin, Joker War, and i've read batman from where zdarsky come in so like have also read Gotham War.) (might read Catwoman?? not the point.)

since we're sticking strictly to net positives, i'll include something that i like, even if i have criticisms of it, but i won't get into those criticisms so we can stay positive!! (future cue, so this is kind of a lie but i swear i didn't go overboard.) i'm going to include stuff as minor as like costumes bc why not. also nothing is going to be in order of like what i like the most to what i like the least, just fyi. also, probs not definitive, knowing me i will forget something lmao

New52 Era-

tim's red robin costume. that suit is *chef's kiss* imo. i love that he has wings. i...i don't know if i necessarily want it back rn bc i am sososososo in love with his current robin costume, but i do adore the n52 red robin suit

i personally like that they went ahead and made jason less villain, more anti-hero. i think him trying to reintegrate with the batfam creates some very compelling crises

dick as Agent 37!! which...okay, no criticisms nvm. michael janin's art tho >>> okay well actually maybe sometimes i wish this was like elseworlds/black label instead of mainline but

might be a bit of a reach, but i really enjoy the first handful of arcs in n52 b&r and the relationship dynamic they established for bruce and dami

i like that tim and jason are somewhat friendly. i think it makes sense. for a lot of reasons. this is a somewhat controversial opinion, which i understand. but this is where i stand

did i like anything else from this era specifically?????????

OH

DUKE!!!!!!! i loooooove him very happy he was added

Rebirth Era-

the outlaws, specifically jason's relationship with bizarro. (i enjoyed artemis a lot too!! tbh, haven't read these guys outside of this run tho so zero clue how accurate these portrayals are, so grain of salt?)

the return of dick's fingerstripes!!!!!!! best part of tom taylor's run /hj

TIM'S ROBIN COSTUME AHHHHHH. i'm sorry i love that suit way too much

love damian's current robin costume, although...does he have combat boots rn still? can't remember. if he doesn't, they should give those back

damian + jon's relationship, ik it gets obliterated by the stupid age up, but super sons is still very special to me

tim being bi!! now do kon dc you cowards

alfred's death. i refuse to elaborate. i could, but i shan't (this is not alfred hate tho i swear)

i'm forgetting something rn i know it

oh yeah, i do like tim being robin again. IK. IKKKK. no, i don't think he should be robin forever. no, i don't think dami is a bad robin/shouldn't be robin.

um...i liked dick getting shot in the head. the ric era is not how i would've wanted the aftermath but

i don't want to comment on anything super recent, but i do think there's stuff going on rn that could end up being net positives

the titans being reassembled. jury's out on their location but, i do like that they're back

i'm not counting yj because they're not doing anything with them rn, but they should ugh

i think...i think that's it? there could honestly be a lot more that i'm forgetting. i hope this was interesting!! if there's anything i didn't mention that you're curious about, or something i did mention that you'd like a more in-depth answer about, please feel free to ask!! i'm curious what you consider net positives anon, you should shareeee

[ravioliet]

more Odd Squad oc posting! here are my main silly guys :D

character lore under the read more because i just know i'm gonna go on a whole ramble and don't want to make the post super long

so both of these guys are from precinct 73559 (which is the precinct we made for our ocs), Oriole is the creature room director and Orion is of course the branch manager. both of them are relatively new to the precinct, having been transferred there together just before Okiku stated working there (Okiku is @/dragonroar87's agent character btw! i consider her a main character which is why i'm using her as a reference for the timeline lol), and they are also quite close and consider each other as best friends (hence the bracelets) because before Orion was promoted and they were transferred the two of them were actually partners in the investigation department! although most agents in 73559 don't know this so they're just left to wonder why Oriole is always hanging around their manager's office and why she calls him Orion instead of Mr. O

personality-wise the two of them are pretty much opposites of each other and they definitely fit the whole 'silly partner and serious partner' pattern that canon kinda has, with Oriole being the more energetic and silly one and Orion being the more quiet and serious one, although their personalities and energy kinda rub off on each other when they're together.

Orion himself is like that introverted person who keeps taking leadership positions for some reason even though he doesn't particularly like public speaking or anything like that, because someone has to do it. he is actually a good leader though even though he doesn't realize it a lot of the time (he has a pretty bad case of imposter syndrome), and he cares about his agents a lot. he also happens to be a pretty big nerd which Oriole teases him about. he's also been through some pretty traumatic stuff and is a pretty anxious person as well, but he doesn't talk about any of that usually (i'll go into detail about it later but for now i'll just say that Oriole was not his first partner. do with that information what you will)

Oriole on the other hand is just a silly little guy full of joyous whimsy. she is very eager to learn things and to solve problems, but she has some chaotic tendencies and when she isn't causing problems on purpose she tends to cause them on accident instead, and she always manages to fix them in the end but that doesn't stop her from getting into trouble. she ended up transferring to the creature department after Orion was promoted because during the series of events leading up to that she was noticed for her talent in dealing with creatures, so in a way she and Orion were kinda promoted at the same time and i love that for them tbh. she enjoys her job very much, but she also still kinda multiclasses in investigation sometimes to help with cases and basically serves as an unofficial third partner to Okiku and Oceane a lot of the time. she has a few creatures that she calls her companion creatures that she's trained and she likes to bring them with her on cases and send out at villains like they're pokemon, the main one being a size-changing feathered snake/serpent dragon creature that she named Updog (she LOVES using the updog joke on people btw) and due to their shrinking ability Updog hangs out in one of her pockets usually. a few of her other creature names include names such as Mister President (so she can say things like "Mister President get off of the table!" or "the President ate my paperwork sorry"), Gazebo, and Periscope