#everyone is free to imagine and enjoy the characters the way they want

[flawseer]

In your last ask, you mentioned misgivings with Book 10's ending, and especially how it pertains to Winter. I absolutely agree, and I know why, but I wanna hear your thoughts on it, too: What's up with Book 10?

The following is a (very long) examination of my personal feelings with regards to the WoF second story arc finale. While it is based on what is in the text, this analysis will be interpretive and fill in blanks with my own thoughts. Keep that in mind.

Hahhhh... okay. Since mentioning it in my last post I’ve gotten several requests to talk about my feelings regarding the second arc finale. There’s probably no way around it then.

If you haven’t read that last post (it was admittedly very long, and so will this one be), I talked briefly about why I didn’t like that part of the story. I have to warn you now, this will likely be the most negative and dour post in the history of this blog. In a few parts it will sound like I hate Wings of Fire, and I want to say now, while I still have the chance, that I don’t. I love this series, thinking about its setting and characters brings me joy.

I also—very emphatically—want to make it clear that I have no ill will against Tui T. Sutherland. I’ve looked around other people’s stuff a bit and there are a huge number of posts wishing violence upon her or threatening her for doing things to her series that people don’t agree with. That is NOT what I am doing here, shit like that is NOT okay! While I will be critical of her choices, I still respect her effort of bringing this vibrant, wonderful world of dragons to all of us.

Also, obligatory last disclaimer: If you liked the finale, that is okay. You are valid for feeling that way. I’m here to share my point of view, not to demand people agree with everything I say. Just be warned that you most likely won’t enjoy what I have to say. If you don’t think you can handle that kind of criticism, this is your guilt-free opportunity to stop reading.

Otherwise, let's get into it.

CW: Discussion of parental abuse, depression, disease, and extreme acts of violence.

In defense of the finale

Before I start to systematically disassemble this narrative and get lost in a quagmire of negativity, let’s talk a bit about the circumstances that brought forth this part of the story. The plot of this arc was a mess from the moment animus magic was unshackled from the restrictions it had in the first arc, and from then on there was no longer any conceivable way to end this story in a clean way. Sutherland had created an invincible, unbeatable, omnipotent villain; he could read minds, see the future with perfect clarity, and anything he could imagine he could conjure into existence at any time with no cost to himself and no drawbacks. She was likely wracking her brain about how to resolve this impossible conundrum. What we got wasn’t good, but I believe nothing could have been. The foundation was rotting and by the fifth book it couldn’t bear the weight of the plot anymore.

The thing about animus magic in arc 2 is that it is so potent, so all-powerful, and so free of restraint that everyone who uses it also HAS to be a simpleton, or they would be able to break the plot immediately and become god. From the moment Darkstalker broke out of that mountain, he could have said “Any and all spells that are cast with the intention to harm me, interfere with my plans, or do something I don’t consent to will not work, from now on until forever”, and he would have instantly won. The strawberry would have fizzled out. The Darkstalker-blocking earrings would not have been created, and no one could have saved the Icewings. On the flipside, Turtle or Anemone could have said “I enchant the concept of animus magic itself to no longer obey Darkstalker”, and his threat would have been neutered. Point is, powers as potent and easy to use as this really need limitations, or they will quickly eat your plot alive.

I don’t envy the situation Sutherland was in at the time at all. If you’re an author, that kind of thing is a nightmare. It really is no wonder she decided to blow up animus magic for good in her next arc, even if I would have preferred it to get more healthy restrictions instead of killing it outright.

The Darkstalker age regression thing

Everyone has talked this part to death already, but if I am to write a thorough analysis of my feelings regarding this finale, I’m going to have to talk about it as well. I’m sorry if I end up repeating a lot of things you’ve already heard.

This final fate of Darkstalker, to have his memories wiped and be reset to an infant, is really uncomfortable. As far as I am aware, though correct me if I’m wrong, Sutherland said in an interview that she didn’t want Darkstalker to die because, in her view, he did not deserve to. We can debate here about the philosophical question of whether anyone is truly deserving of death, and the merits of “justice” and “punishment”, but in general, Wings of Fire did not seem to have any issues killing off its villains prior if they committed suitably terrible acts. That makes this moment stand out as noteworthy.

Who is Darkstalker then--and if we assume villains can be “deserving” and “not deserving” of death--what about him speaks in his favor, or against? The guy had a pretty crappy childhood, coming from a broken home (there is that inadequate parent theme again). He genuinely loved his sister and felt protective of her, and whenever he liked someone he wanted them to be happy and feel affirmed. The thing that Queen Diamond does to his mother is awful and he is justified in hating her for it. He is also portrayed as rather sympathetic in Moon Rising. When he asks Moon to find his scroll for him and not to leave him, he is not manipulating her, he is sincerely begging for her help. He is stuck somewhere underground, trapped in darkness, in a space so tiny that he can’t move. He remains that way for months, lonely and sad. If you just focus on these aspects, it’s easy to understand why he has so many fans who want him to see healthy and happy.

On the flipside, while he is dedicated to the happiness of his friends, he doesn’t always go for the most ethical way to achieve it. He tries to brainwash said friends without their consent whenever they exhibit behaviors he doesn’t like, or when he thinks he knows better and wants to “fix” them. He has very little regard for other people’s autonomy, lies to his loved ones with alarming frequency, and is unhealthily attached to the idea of power. Those things are certainly not good, but they are his character flaws. These are his demons; everyone has them and they make him a person. If this was all there was to it, he might still be a villain, but I’d argue he’d not be wholly irredeemable.

But there are things about him that take him beyond the pale. Things that go beyond the realm of just being misunderstood, or easily excusable.

He is possessive. He wants Clearsight and Fathom for himself, and for them to listen to him primarily. When Indigo makes it clear she doesn’t like him and cautions Fathom against trusting him, he deceives his friends and traps Indigo in a wood carving, just so he can isolate Fathom from his support network and manipulate him easier. He alters Clearsight’s mind to make her more agreeable and stop her from holding him accountable for his actions; while he thinks he loves her, he only loves an idealized version of her that is wholly devoted to and unquestioning of him. This is why, when he later forcibly overwrites Fierceteeth’s existence to recreate her (which is another horrific thing), he tries to excise the parts he finds undesirable to create a perfect version of his lover. But this caricature he has created in his head is not and can never be Clearsight, which frustrates his attempts.

He is vengeful. Not against people who have actually wronged him, like Queen Diamond. That would be questionable, but understandable. What makes this unacceptable is his frequent targeting of innocent people who just happen to be related to the person who wronged him in some esoteric way. He enchants a secret murder knife that kills random Icewings regardless of who they are or what they think about the Queen, just because the one who took his mother from him happened to share their tribe. He hates Turtle and wishes death upon him in Moon Rising just because he is a green Seawing, like Fathom was. And then there is the big one: He tries to kill all the Icewings who are alive in the present day, where Queen Diamond is long dead and none of them have ever even met her. Even his mother, who suffered from Diamond’s actions the most and has the most reason to hate her, is horrified and calls him out on that one.

And lastly, he is sadistic. He revels in torturing those he hates. He forces his father to disembowel himself, while the latter is fully aware and powerless to resist AND the man’s traumatized daughter is watching. Later he sends a magical plague to kill every single living Icewing sans one.

It should be noted that Darkstalker possesses virtually infinite magical power; whatever he declares, with very few exceptions, will happen. Even if he wanted them dead, he had the power to prevent unnecessary suffering. He could have said “Arctic, fall dead instantaneously”, or “Every Icewing will fall asleep and pass away peacefully,” but he didn’t. He wanted them to feel pain and pass away in the most wretched, agonizing ways he could imagine.

So what he chose to do instead is—and I want you to picture this for a moment—Darkstalker sat down, calmly, and said “Henceforth every living Icewing, excepting Prince Winter and those of hybrid blood, will fall ill with an incurable disease. This disease will cause heavy internal bleeding and make its victims cough up blood and waste away for a few days, followed by certain death.”

This spell does not discriminate with regards to who its victims are. The book glosses over the implications, but imagine the ramifications. Young children are notoriously frail, how many newborns got infected and died because of this? How many families were torn apart because they couldn’t get the magic earrings fast enough? Or accidentally got one earring less than there were family members and had to decide who has to die?

Most of the Icewings were physically cured by the earrings, but an experience like that sticks with you for the rest of your life. Somewhere surely, a dragonet watched as his mother put the earring on him and then slowly wasted away because she didn’t have one for herself.

It’s really easy to overlook how horrific this spell is because it isn’t shown or dwelt on. But the trauma, grief, and suffering it caused must have been immeasurable.

And none of those victims have ever even met the person Darkstalker wanted to get revenge on. None of those deaths meant anything to anyone.

The attempted death toll and scale of the calamity here puts even Scarlet to shame. The ones who come closest to it were Queen Battlewinner and Morrowseer with their attempted Rainwing extermination. All three of those died for what they did. Gives you some food for thought for sure.

Peacemaker’s burden

Despite just airing all of his dirty laundry and declaring him an irredeemable villain, I actually do have a lot of sympathy for Darkstalker still. His story is really sad. He was a child born with an amount of power that nobody should possess, and it corrupted him to the point where it destroyed his life before it began. His parents were always fighting and no matter how good his intentions were, he was unable to understand why he couldn’t hold on to his friends and relationship. He kept making mistakes, then made bigger mistakes to fix those, until his hands were covered in blood and he couldn’t stop anymore. My belief is that, after he wakes up in the present and realizes Clearsight is dead, he loses his reason for living and becomes completely lost in his grief.

Therefore, my opinion is that it would have been appropriate for him to die. If not to punish him, then to finally grant him reprieve from all that rage and pain, and let him rest. I think that would have been a dignified end.

But instead he got turned into a baby. ... And then they decided to magically erase his father’s blood from him? I don’t know what it is, but something about that Icewing erasure makes my skin crawl?

The thing that turns this baby twist from weird into highly unsettling is the context. Darkstalker’s mind is erased, then modified into a new person via animus magic. This is the technique a lot of this arc’s villains used to victimize Hailstorm, Queen Ruby, Peril, Kinkajou, Fierceteeth, and Winter. The same technique is now used again, by the heroes, which is a dangerous thing to have your protagonists do if you want them to remain morally upright.

It is also very reckless, because in almost all of these instances, animus mind alteration has been shown to be very unreliable. The spells seem to wear down over time and are susceptible to partial breaking upon encountering certain strong stimuli. Hailstorm—while trapped as Pyrite—seems to retain trace amounts of his former memories, which is why Pyrite is subconsciously drawn to Winter and clings to him all the time. Ruby is able to ignore half of her conditioning because her familial love for her son partially overpowers the magic. Qibli is just straight up able to reason his way out of it.

The thing to note here is that spells of this nature require a very meticulous approach; you can’t half-ass your reprogramming or the victim will just think their way past it. If you alter someone’s mind, the wording of the spell must be ironclad, lest you risk it wearing down over time and even break.

Luckily we have nothing to fear in that regard, because the spell that created Peacemaker was written by a Rainwing with a total of four days of literacy training. No one better mention the name Clearsight to the new baby Nightwing, or next month is going to be rather interesting.

But that’s just speculation on my part. Let’s assume that, somehow, this spell isn’t as unstable as all the others. Somehow Kinkajou threaded all the needles, and masterfully dodged every conceivable pitfall to pen the perfect incantation, despite having been illiterate just a few weeks prior. This one is built to last and Darkstalker is sealed away really thoroughly, for good.

That is still absolutely terrible and morally dubious, because now you have Peacemaker, who for all intents and purposes is a COMPLETELY innocent little kid, saddled with this huge burden of being the certifiable reincarnation of a genocidal ancient wizard. He’s gonna grow up thinking things like “Mommy gets real quiet whenever the topic of the Icewing tragedy is brought up,” and “Why does Auntie Moon look at me like that? One time she accidentally called me a weird name, who is Darkstalker?” “What is this ‘Clearsight’ name my mind-reading friends from the village found in Mommy’s mind?”

In a village that will be full of mind-readers soon, eventually the secret will come out, and Peacemaker is going to learn what was done to him. A huge, messy load of undeserved baggage was forced onto this completely separate, innocent entity. He will be devastated. Whether he then chooses to forgive them for this remains to be seen. To be honest, he would be well within his right not to, and turn resentful.

Poor kid.

Qibli’s callousness

I love Qibli, he is one of my favorite characters. This happens to be his book, and the fact that I fundamentally dislike half of it makes me rather sad. If anything, I hope this tells you that I’m not just hating on it for my personal amusement. I really wanted to like this. I tried to, and I couldn’t.

Qibli is really weird in this one, to be honest. He is suddenly made to be co-dependent on Moonwatcher, fawning over her every third paragraph, saying how much he loves her, how he is an incomplete and dysfunctional wreck without her, how it physically pains him to be apart from her, oh if only the stars would grant his wish and split the mountains apart so that he may fly to his princess, his muse, his goddess of ebony wit. It gets so old.

And it’s not Qibli. He never acted this clingy towards Moonwatcher. It’s more intense than even Winter gets about Moon, and Winter was actually depicted with a crush on her in book 6. Qibli was always just a supportive element, eager to befriend Moon but never desperate, like he is going to keel over if he is separated from his true love five minutes longer. These very frequent love declarations feel so forced coming out of him. It strikes me like it was just written in service of the love triangle. Maybe if we make him confess his love every four seconds readers will overlook the fact that they had no proper romantic build-up.

You might rightly accuse me of bias. I have previously admitted I am fond of Qibli/Winter as a romantic pairing, on the surface this seems like I am just not happy with my pet ship being blocked by Moonwatcher. But I assure you, I am actually pretty flexible and accommodating even towards pairings that contradict my preferences. I have no issues with Winter/Moonwatcher, for example, because the possibility was properly established and they have good romantic chemistry in Winter Turning. In theory, I would have no problem with Qibli/Moonwatcher either if it was ever set up as an interesting romantic dynamic. But to me, it seems like Qibli is written as a good, supportive friend to Moon for four books, only to pivot hard into “Moon moon moon moon moon moon swoon” at the last second, and it just reads to me as obnoxious.

I got distracted. This section is called “Qibli’s callousness”, and I haven’t even talked about the main part.

Qibli and Winter have excellent chemstry together, whether you read it as romantic or platonic—both of these interpretations have merit and are set up. They’re always the highlight of any scene they’re in. Throughout the story arc you get the impression that these two really get on each other’s nerves, but they bond and grow into really strong friends who bicker a lot but have each other’s backs when it counts.

Then there is a scene where Qibli casually tells Winter that he wouldn’t object if someone wanted to mind-control away some of Winter’s more objectionable traits.

This is genuinely a terrible thing to say to your friend. Like, it crosses a line and ceases to be harmless banter; you’re just telling them that there is something you hate about them so much that you wish they were someone else. Winter actually WAS mind-controlled earlier and felt (and proably still feels) guilty about having attacked Qibli in that state. And now Qibli says “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if someone did that to you again! Hue hue!”

It is awful, BUT I don’t necessarily object to Qibli saying this here. Qibli is in the middle of his character arc at this moment, so he is expected to be flawed. He is making a mistake by thoughtlessly telling Winter this horrid thing, and it seems like a believable continuation of his current character track. This is a reasonable development as long as the plot acknowledges that it’s a mistake.

Spoilers: The plot doesn’t acknowledge that it’s a mistake. Qibli never has a scene after where he reflects upon what he said and apologizes to Winter. When Darkstalker has Qibli trapped in his mountain jail and mind-wipes Qibli’s grandfather into a toddler (hey, wait a minute), Qibli gets visibly disturbed. Like, this is so off-putting to him that he gets queasy and Darkstalker hastily changes the spell. That could have been a great way to bring this back. Like in the epilogue, have Qibli track down Winter and tell him about disturbing baby grandpa theater and how he realized that wiping people’s minds is actually messed up and should have never said that to him.

But he doesn’t. He just lets Winter go, allowing him to believe he is broken and needs magical intervention to be tolerable. It leaves me to think that maybe he’s still okay with it, and fantasizing about rewriting his friend’s mind. Great.

Moonwatcher’s character death

You will find as this goes on that, I get the impression that the second half of this book takes all of the wonderful, endearing characters I have learned to love throughout the story and replaces them with really mean, or stupid, or otherwise inaccurate caricatures.

Moonwatcher’s relationship with Darkstalker gets plenty of setup and development in Moon Rising. You get the sense that these two could be great friends if their circumstances were a little different. It does a great job at making you think maybe Darkstalker is just misunderstood; maybe Moon should free him from his predicament.

Then at the end of Escaping Peril comes the emotional gut punch. Darkstalker actually IS a villain. He callously admits to Moonwatcher that he used his magic to make his own father gruesomely disembowel himself. Moonwatcher is horrified and disgusted that he would do that. There is no circumstance in which something like that would ever be okay. She ends the scene awash in tears because the person she thought was her friend is a murderer and a sadist. This is good, that is a natural reaction to what she was just told.

A few hours from there, in Talons of Power, Turtle finds Moon again and she is completely cool with Darkstalker walking free, despite crying her eyes out after feeling so betrayed earlier. That may seem strange, but this is still good because later, Darkstalker’s mind control plot is discovered. This scene was obviously written to set that up, Moon is mind-controlled into forgetting that Darkstalker could do something that morally reprehensible, and thus forgives him. This is also completely in line with his characterization in Legends: Darkstalker. It’s a kind of stunt he would pull to get Clearsight to shut up about him slipping into villainy.

In my earlier post I alluded to a moment where Moon is set to narrative auto-pilot and says something so rampantly off-kilter that it does irreversible, permanent damage to her character. It happens here, in the second half of book 10. Qibli gives Moon the Darkstalker protection earring, and Moon, somehow, says “I’m not being mind-controlled, Darkstalker really is my friend.”

I get what the plot tries to do here. It’s taking this concept of mind-control and adding a nuance, in an attempt to flesh out Darkstalker and give his character depth. He is ready to control everyone in the world, but for Moon, who is his best friend in this era, he wants her to remain herself. Perhaps this is his attempt at attonement for playing with Clearsight’s mind and driving her away from him. It is very touching in a way, viewed in isolation.

Unfortunately, it does not work with the full context of all the books. Because Moon is in auto-pilot mode right now, her main character trait is “Darkstalker=Friend,” so naturally she would speak in support of him. But this revelation has devastating retroactive consequences. The earlier scene that was written with Moon under mind-control is now altered into her having been in her right mind! She is completely okay with Darkstalker’s admittance to cold-blooded torture and evisceration, within hours of being so shocked by it that it made her cry and ready to denounce him. That is such a quick turnaround it’s giving me whiplash. And what’s more it turns Moon from a principled, upstanding girl into a sociopath who casually accepts gruesome torture and murder if it is committed by someone she likes.

Did Sutherland forget about the scene two books ago, where Darkstalker’s actions were so inconceivably horrid for Moon to learn of that she started crying? It baffles me that this made it into the final version. Her saying she was never mind-controlled makes Moon come off as so awful. This torture-excusing lunatic is not the same kind-hearted and insightful character I followed in all the other books.

Kinkajou’s character derailment

The world is a sad place when I have to question the way Kinjajou is written. Fortunately she is mostly fine, despite her having the biggest excuse to act out-of-character since she’s the victim of a mind-altering spell. Her only real moment of “what!?” comes at the end.

I already talked about her role in casting the spell that regresses Darkstalker into an infant. But I didn’t mention how her being the source of it is questionable in itself.

The clue is in the first paragraph of this section: She herself has experienced the effects of invasive mind-alteration. She was cursed by Anemone in the previous book to be in love with Turtle, and kind of half-struggles kind of not with it, it’s really strange. Turtle is appropriately horrified and acts like really awful things are happening, but then it’s mostly played lightly for some reason. My assumption is that Sutherland introduced this plot point, but then realized how uncomfortable this premise really is and tried to downplay it until the story got to a point where it could get done away with.

But I think the takeaway is still supposed to be that this was a horrid thing to do (which it absolutely is), and that Kinkajou will have to spend a lot of time trying to untangle her real emotions from the fake ones the spell created.

The point is: Kinkajou knows first-hand how awful it is to do something like that to another person. Ideally she should never even conceive of the idea to cast a spell like that, but if we’re really set on this Darkstalker baby thing and it has to happen, she should at least be a bit hesitant about it. And afterwards she should struggle with the guilt of having resorted to it. Not celebrate it and be proud, like it’s funny.

The assassination of Winter’s future

Now we come to the part I’ve alluded to previously; the part where all of these threads converge to utterly destroy one character and drive him to the brink of ruin. Let’s talk about Winter.

Prince Winter is the son of Tundra and Prince Narwhal, hatching in the same clutch as his sister Icicle. He spent his formative years being unfavorably compared to said sister—who easily took to traits that Icewing royalty considers desirable—whereas Winter struggled greatly to embody those same ideals. He was just a little too kind, too merciful, too gentle. As a result he often had to endure abuse from his parents, who made him feel like he was defective.

Because he was young and didn’t have any other frame of reference, he embraced this abusive narrative and began to drive himself with a vigor unreasonable for someone of his age. He scraped and cloyed for every bit of credit he could get, obsessing over advancing up the circle rankings in an attempt to “purge” the wrongness out of himself. To make his parents as proud of him as they were of Icicle.

This never worked. He was always seen as the runt, poised to embarrass the family name. Whatever he did, no matter how hard he strived, there was always something he could have done better.

The only real source of love and affirmation in his life was his older brother, Hailstorm. Where everyone else only saw what Winter wasn’t, Hailstorm embraced his brother despite of his “failings” and was openly affectionate with him. When Winter was with him, it was okay to not think about rankings all the time, and just be himself for a bit. I assume Hailstorm fulfilled a similar role for Icicle as well, which is why both of them love him dearly, and Icicle destroys her own life to bring him back.

Winter also has a fascination with scavengers, possibly because they are small and perceived as useless, like he himself is. He likely feels a kinship with them and observes them being craftier and more adept than everyone else sees them. This is therapeutic for him, to see that a thing can have merit even if no one wants to see it.

One day, he and Hailstorm sneak into Skywing territory so Winter can catch a scavenger as a pet. This excursion turns hostile when they are discovered by a roaming Skywing troop and faced with the prospect of capture, possibly execution. In a gambit to save Winter from this fate, Hailstorm mirrors the words of his parents, calling Winter pathetic and useless, so the Skywings will not think of him as a threat and show mercy. His act succeeds in convincing the Skywings, but it also convinces Winter, who does not understand Hailstorm only said these things to save his life. He returns home—believing his brother hated him all along—to face the wrath of his furious family for losing them “the desirable son”.

For all of his life, these themes have repeated themselves and haunted him. “I was born wrong and defective,” “I am unlovable,” “No one wants me.”

A few months after the war ends, Winter is one of the five Icewings enrolled in the newly founded Jade Mountain Academy. Shortly after departing, he unexpectedly returns home, having successfully rescued his older brother and bringing him back. He is made to believe that this erases his mistakes, his mother even pays him a backhanded compliment, an uncharacteristically “nice” gesture. He is promoted to the top of the rankings, finally his parents are proud of him.

But of course it is all a trick. The “adoration” afforded to him was all a ploy. Secretly, his parents abused power and tradition to arrange for Winter’s death. They force him into a lethal trial they intentionally rigged against him, all to finally erase that stain on their family’s honor.

Winter finally realizes the true nature of his parents’ opinion of him. Even when he succeeds, and does everything right, he is still defective, unlovable, and unwanted. He will never be anything else to his family. And so he leaves his homeland, pretending he is dead, resigned to live in hiding forever.

During this time, while at the brink of despair, Winter is able to draw strength from one source: His new friends from the academy. He vocalizes that, for all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his birth family, he fervently believes that THEY would never do anything like that to him. They chose to stuck with him, even when he was awful, and told him he was not hopeless. He was not a mistake; he could be deserving of love.

So naturally, he returns to them; they accept him readily, are willing to be his new surrogate family. When he almost burns to death at a later point, they fear and weep for him. When Qibli sets out to confront his own abusive family, Winter, despite being mind-controlled into a placid potato at the time, feels concerned enough for his friend’s safety to insist to come along (returning the favor of them accompanying him in his time of need in book 7). When Darkstalker’s mind control forces Winter to attack Qibli, he is shown ashamed and guilty of it once the control wears off again.

They bicker and struggle, and make mistakes, they break up but always come back together again. Time and time again the one thing that is always reinforced: When the cards are down, Winter loves his friends, and they love him. They would never intentionally hurt each other, or give up on each other.

I want you to keep in mind how wholesome, and loving, and mutually supportive this ramshackle band of misfits has been portrayed to this point... Because we’re moving on to the arc 2 finale, and it will do everything it can to corrupt all of it and consign Winter to a life of misery.

We arrive at aforementioned scene, where Moonwatcher receives her earring. Just a little bit prior, Winter had learned that Darkstalker unleashed a magical plague onto his people in an attempt to wipe them out. Now here is Moonwatcher, revealing that she is not under any spell, and has aligned herself with this guy willingly, speaking fondly of him as if he was a dear friend who never did any wrong. Winter takes this badly and accidentally breaks a vase; the narrative lingers on this moment and really tries to sell us on how unreasonable Winter’s reaction is, how he is overreacting, but let’s examine that interpretation for a moment.

Moonwatcher doesn’t yet know about the attempted Icewing genocide, but she DOES know about Darkstalker being okay with casting spells to inflict immeasurable torture upon those he hates. WE know that she knows this, so her stance here is already suspect. Yet she goes on to praise Darkstalker and refer to him as a friend. Look at this from Winter’s perspective. This “friend” of Moonwatcher just tried to kill his entire tribe, and he actually succeeded in killing his aunt, Queen Glacier, a person Winter greatly respects. Winter is currently unable to return to his homeland for fear of being branded a traitor. Even if he could return, he knows his obstinate and spiteful family would prevent him from attending the funeral, meaning he is not even afforded the basic dignity of saying farewell to his aunt. The aunt whom Darkstalker murdered by making her vomit her own blood until she withered away in her bed. And here is Moon, absolving the person who did this to Glacier from his appalling actions, despite knowing full well what Darkstalker is capable of and choosing to look away.

I don’t know about you, but I think I can forgive the grieving, emotionally overwhelmed boy for shattering a little pottery after hearing his trusted friend—who held his hand when he was dying—say that the guy who makes people disembowel themselves and wipes out entire countries may be misunderstood and not so bad. I think I would have a similar reaction. In fact, I would never want to talk to her ever again.

There is no way I can read this scene in which Moon doesn’t come off as either an absolute lunatic, or critically stupid and callous. In fact, based on her earlier behavior I half-expect her to get over the news of the attempted Icewing massacre in a couple hours, saying “Eh, it’s kinda bad, but you just have to do these kinds of things sometimes, you know? I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Then there is the part where Qibli makes his off-color comment about how Winter’s brain could really use a good wash. I already went into how it could have worked but didn’t. But with the timing here, we’ve already had Moon spit on their friendship, so as Winter’s other closest friend, it naturally follows that Qibli also craps on his feelings.

Consider the context: Winter comes from an abusive household where his parents forcibly tried to change him away from who he was to purge the “wrongness” from him. When they betray him and he narrowly escapes their attempt on his life, he re-affirms his belief in his friends, and the knowledge that they wouldn’t treat him like that gives him the strength he needs to keep going. But now, Qibli asserts that Winter DOES need to be altered, thereby AGREEING with Winter’s abusive parents, rendering Winter’s affirmation from book 7 erroneous. Qibli WOULD treat him like that if it made Winter less “intolerable”.

Neither Moonwatcher nor Qibli ever make an attempt to repair this rift. Winter is left betrayed and alone.

Stuff happens, and the forces of the Nightwings and Icewings come to blows over Jade Mountain. With his two closest friends having written him off and his support network eroded, Winter relapses into thinking he is worthless, seeks validation in unquestioning patriotism, and realigns himself with his abusive family by throwing himself into the battle. Nobody wants him to, in fact his parents still hate him for it, but whatever. His father dies and his mother blames him for it.

Meanwhile Turtle, Anemone, and Qibli are cooking up a solution to the battle problem. They have the idea to make everyone’s minds connect in a huge empathy wave for a few moments, which I think is a pretty interesting idea for what it’s worth. But then they teleport both armies back to their homes, and the spell sweeps Winter up with them, taking him out of the rest of the finale and bringing him to the Ice Kingdom. The characters say “whoops” but aren’t further concerned with the situation. It’s all a big laugh.

Let me remind you that Winter is currently considered not welcome on Icewing territory. His family, whom he was sent back with, is extremely abusive and vindictive. His friends know this. Said parents have previously arranged for him to be killed, and are still on record as wanting him dead. His friends KNOW this. And now he is alone with them and a gaggle of other royal Icewings who all are extremely pissed off at him for ruining their sacred trial site.

It is very possible that he is being torn apart and mauled by an enraged mob right now. He could be forced into captivity and flayed. Maybe the interim regent is sentencing him to death and getting the rope ready. There is a million different horrible things that could be happening to Winter right now, while he is trapped alone with people who hate him, things his friends would be reasonably able to anticipate. And nobody is doing anything to get him out of there, to suggest bringing him back, even though it would only take a single spoken sentence to do so! They aren’t even concerned!

Then the climax happens, strawberry thing and all, and we get the coup de grâce. After all is said and done, the group decides that Winter is untrustworthy, and that they must protect the secret of Darkstalker’s fate from him, because they fear if he knew he would kill Peacemaker.

Moon, who read Winter’s mind in book 6 and reached out to him about how the “ruthless Icewing warrior” persona in his head is a facade and how she sees he has a gentle and good heart... Moon, who in book 7 finds out about Winter’s secret deal to kill Glory and STILL trusts him, who calls out his bullshit to his face because she KNOWS how kind-hearted Winter is and that he would never resort to murder... Moon who, again, held his hand while he was dying... thinks that the dragon she has reminded of his compassionate nature time and time again would kill an innocent child.

This is disgusting. Moon believing that is so far off the mark with regards to anything this group has embodied or done for any of the last 4 books, that my only conclusion can be that these are different characters. Maybe the Nightwing library collapsed on top of original Moon, and when Darkstalker magiced her back to health she came back wrong or something. I don’t know.

So after all of this, Winter is left alone. He somehow escaped from the Ice Kingdom; luckily there is a timeskip so we can just gloss over the horrible situation he was put in by his friends. He thinks about Jade Mountain. He reflects on everything that happened, how his parents never really loved him... How they hated him so much they tried to kill him... How he despaired, but found solace in his friends who loved him for who he was.... How those friends then betrayed him too and magiced him away... How they didn’t care about what happened to him... And he decides he is done. He won’t bother going back. A few people, probably Sunny, reach out to tell him he is welcome back, but he says “it wouldn’t be fair to other Icewings if an exile took up a bed”. The decision isn’t hard to make, after all there is nothing left for him there. Everyone has written him off, moved on and left him behind.

Kinkajou visits sometimes, tries to stay in touch, but that’s just how she is. Maybe the others sent her to check on whether he’s going to become troublesome. They don’t trust him. Better to keep an eye on him, he might kill the baby.

With nowhere else to go, Winter moves to Sanctuary, a place for rejects like him. I picture him standing there, at the edge of a cliff staring blankly into the distance. He is completely alone; no one wants to go near him or talk to him beyond the bare necessities. He could probably make new friends with the Talons of Peace if he tried, but there is no point. Why should someone like him have friends? It wouldn’t work. They’d just decide he is too inconvenient to be around. Sooner or later they would just tell him to leave anyway. It's better not to try, so he doesn't get hurt again.

And slowly it dawns on him. His parents had been right all along. It was never them, or the others, it was him. He is the problem. The Icewings said it, Qibli said it, Moonwatcher said it. There is just something fundamentally wrong with him.

He is defective. He is unlovable. Nobody wants him. He will never be anything, or have anyone. And so he stands at the cliff, looking over the broken vase fragments of his life... This is who he is. Prince Winter. A mistake.

And quietly, where no one knows or cares, he does the only thing he has left to do... he begins to weep.

As it is written, the tale of Winter is the story of a boy who is told he is wrong for being alive. He closes his ears and tries to keep walking forward, desperate to prove that he is not an error, that he has merit. But this book comes out and it unmistakably says that he doesn’t. He is nothing, and he deserves to have nothing.

And I just cannot accept that.

Why did this have to happen?

I think that the author was really struggling with the ending of this book. I’ve said before how much of a corner she wrote herself into with such an invincible villain. I think she came up with the strawberry idea as a solution to this problem. But as she was writing it, the characters kept fighting her. It was not a natural solution, not a decision the characters—as they were established—would ever make.

So concessions had to be made to force the issue. Established traits had to be bent slightly to make this plot work. The farther she went, the worse it got. The concessions piled up and turned into contrivances. Eventually the characters were no longer acting like themselves. Their bonds got stretched too far and some snapped. It’s a very tragic pitfall that occurs with long-running series.

I think Sutherland must have also been tired. Writing an entire book is a monumental task, and writing 6 connected ones even moreso. She also comes out with these things really quickly. Maybe she was burnt out? Maybe she wanted to be done and her attention lapsed. Maybe that’s why she forgot that Moon knew about the disemboweling. It seems reasonable to believe when you consider that the next story arc would make a relatively clean break from the problems of this arc, especially with regards to the magic system.

But I don’t know what ultimately happened, so I can only speculate. I reiterate, I bear no ill will against Sutherland for writing this. Even if I kind of hate everything about this finale, and very vocally wish it would be different, I don’t want this examination to generate (or reawaken) any hatred towards her, or to attack her personally. I understand the pain of an artist who gets trapped with something for too long and has to find the means, any means, to see it through to the end. I criticize the story, but I could never hate anyone for that.

But for me, I do not consider this half of the book as part of the story. The characters act too unnaturally for it to have happened. So to me, it didn’t. We don’t know what happened, maybe Darkstalker is still out there. Maybe they dealt with him. Maybe what actually happened is my crappy and self-indulgent rewrite of the ending which I will never show to anyone because it would be really embarrassing.

But whatever actually ended up happening, I am sure Winter never ended up at that cliff, pondering how worthless and meaningless his life was. He is currently at Jade Mountain, surrounded by friends who love him, and bickering with Qibli about the correct solution to their advanced calculus assignment that is due tomorrow.

Is there anything left to say?

Probably.

I didn’t talk about Anemone yet. You know, in the epilogue she enchants herself a bracelet that makes her “not be so mean all the time”. I find that creepy. To me it reads as Anemone voluntarily brainwashing herself with magic to erase her negative traits instead of growing past them naturally because she finds them undesirable and wants to work to change for the better. I would ordinarily assume that this is an overreaction on my part, and I’m just reading the scene wrong. But no, we just got through a part where the heroes brainwashing someone is treated as an unequivocal good and worthy of celebration, so I think my reading may actually be spot on. Why are we letting the little kid alter her own brain without supervision? Hello? Tsunami? Someone intervene maybe? This cannot be healthy.

Turtle stands out to me as the one bright spot in all of this. He (and Peril, but she’s mostly out of focus) remain as the only main characters of this arc who don’t have any mind-boggling out-of-character moments or sudden streaks of uncharacteristic callousness. I really like the part where Qibli goes to free Turtle from his captivity and plans to give him an earful about the comically unhelpful messages he’s been sending him. But when Turtle asks if what he did was helpful, Qibli sees how beaten down and exhausted Turtle is, and wordlessly drops his frustration to tell him “Yeah, they were helpful.” That is the true Qibli shining through for a moment, showing that he cares about the well-being of his friends.

Do I hate the pairing of Qibli/Moonwatcher? No. Well, I DO hate how it happened in the book, and how the story tried to assassinate Winter’s character to resolve the love triangle and make it happen. I don’t hate it on principle though. If you are a fan of Qibli/Moonwatcher and want to write fanfics about it, please do! I absolutely encourage you to do that! Maybe you can fix this mess and turn it into something that’s actually properly handled!

Mightyclaws keeps the power that Darkstalker granted him past the finale. That means all the spells that Darkstalker cast are technically still active. Does that mean the Icewings have to wear earrings for the rest of their lives? Do they get sick again if they take them off? Is Peril forever cursed to think of Darkstalker as a cool old uncle and has to somehow reconcile how everyone else thinks of him? How did the Nightwings relinquishing their powers work, do they have to wear the earrings forever too now?

And there is one more thing to mention.

My confession

You may have already intuited this, if you’ve been following the content of my blog. It is very heavily skewed towards the first and second arcs of the series. I would now like to confess something.

When I read the second half of book 10, I found it so disillusioning, Winter’s fate so upsetting... that I put down the series then and there. And I haven’t picked it back up since.

That’s right, I have not read arc 3. I don’t know if that makes me a fake fan. I know pretty much everything that happens in it, the controversial twist at the end, Pyrrhia coming back into the story later, Snowfall getting brainwashed by a piece of jewelry until she cares about a plot that had nothing to do with her or the fate of the Icewings, etc..

It’s not out of malice, or because it’s a new continent. The opposite in fact; I would have greatly prefered a clean break with a new setting—Bug-themed dragons in a slightly more contemporary, developed environment sounds fascinating and full of potential. I don’t hate Pantala or the new characters.

I just... I can’t really do this again. I can’t handle the thought of Pyrrhia coming back post-Darkstalker, with Winter showing up and talking to these guys again like nothing happened, seeming like a different person, joking around with them like his entire character wasn’t dragged through a mountain of manure to make the plot bend a certain way. I think as long as this is the ending that the story is continuing from, seeing that would just make me miserable.

Maybe I will just stay in the parts of the story that I fell in love with. And imagine a version of reality in which Pantala is allowed to exist on its own, where Swordtail was the fourth POV character of arc 3, where Queen Wasp stayed the villain throughout, and Snowfall got her own legends book about how she reformed Icewing society and fixed all the shit that poisoned Winter’s life, so future generations don’t have to suffer through the same stuff he did.

~~~~~

If you’re still with me, thank you for reading this far. I think this is everything I ever thought about the finale of the second story arc, so now I never have to talk about it again. Writing this was difficult. I found it crushing at times. This will probably stand as the only overtly negative post I have ever made on this blog. I love Wings of Fire, and I want to celebrate it. To add to it, not tear it down.

I hope this wasn’t too boring, or painful, or frustrating, or soul-crushing to read through. I’ll see you later, hopefully with a more constructive post.

[runariya]

I am in love with that Jk merman story of yourssss , you are such a talented author !!!! Keep it up with the good work .

Even i want to request a prompt after that story because i believe only you have the capability to bring that prompt to life (only if you want to write ofcourse, no pressure )

I have never read an ABO fic with enemies to lovers troupe in modern era , I mean just imagine them being the high-school academic rival wolves who can't bear standing eachother

but the moment they turn 18 and their wolves will develop some special senses and powers, they both will realise that they both are actually mates . damnnn now image the strong pull their wolves will feel towards eachother making them go crazy ( their wolves will fall in love with eachother the moment they will recognize eachother as mate and start rebelling their human counterparts and start convincing them to love eachother too .)

and how bad they will try to hide it , deny their wolves forbid their animal counterparts from eachother only to fail miserably in the end because yeah that mate bond will win 🥹

You can choose any BTS member you want because I love and enjoy reading all seven of them so go for any member you want .

Borahae 💜 , no pressure if you are not interested in writing this prompt , I will still adore you and your work 💜 😘 so feel free to reject this request if you want .

part of the prompt game pairing: alpha!Jungkook x omega!female reader genre: fantasy!AU, "E"2L, ABO, high school romance warnings: Jungkook's the most pitiful teenager in all of existence, bad handling of emotions/feelings, a lot of cliques, denial, a little bit of physical fighting, mentions of blood, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 2.754

a/n: tysm for all your compliments, I'm so flattered 🫂 I've tweaked your request a tiny bit to fit the character of OC better and left out marking etc. bc they're still so young 🥹 hope that's okay 💕

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He hates you.

No, he loathes your entire existence.

That Miss Perfect attitude, excelling in everything you do as if it’s the easiest task in the world. You’ve been enemies since high school started—not because either of you declared it so, but because Jungkook simply can’t stand you.

You, on the other hand, are oblivious to this feud, always kind and friendly towards everyone, especially Jungkook. He doesn’t understand how you do it, staying so humble and kind towards him when he takes every opportunity to throw jabs your way, or cause you minor inconveniences, like not holding the door open or letting you trip more times than he can count.

It’s infuriating to watch you be so lovely, especially when you’re not only the smartest but also the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—something he will never admit. Ever.

“Jungkook?” Your soft, sweet voice startles him. He’s been too busy glaring at the papers scattered before him, his thoughts circling back to you. There's no one else in the lecture hall, and he didn’t even realise you’d entered. You seem to appear out of nowhere, catching him off guard. “I think you dropped this.”

You’re smiling again, that blinding smile of yours, starry eyes sparkling with joy, courteous as ever. He wants to scream. He doesn’t want this treatment from you, not when you’re a little older than him—well, only two months, but still. You’re 18 now, with your wolf, while he’s not, which only deepens his resentment. Once again, you’re ahead, better at something.

The whole school talked about your wolf. Despite your gentle nature, everyone was shocked to learn after your first turn that you’re an omega—one of the very few in the city, the only one known in school. It’s yet another thing Jungkook can’t stand, especially now that everyone, wolf or not, showers you with attention.

“Not mine,” Jungkook lies through his teeth, eyeing the pencil still held out towards him in your small, delicate hand, your nails perfectly manicured.

“Oh…” you murmur, glancing down at the pencil, your brows drawing together in disbelief. Of course, you don’t believe him. “But it’s got your initials, and it’s the one you’re always using.”

Damn you! Of course, you know it’s his favourite. He should’ve seen this coming.

“You think I’d use it after your germs have contaminated it?” Jungkook scoffs.

“That’s not very kind.” You purse your lips, those beautiful lips.

“It’s the truth, ___.”

“Is it okay if I keep it?”

What?! “What?” Jungkook can’t believe his ears. Why would you want to keep it?

“Can I keep your pen? It would be a waste to throw it away, especially when it looks so cool.” You repeat, smiling again.

The pencil is cool, and Jungkook has half a mind to just snatch it back, but he won’t give in. He won’t concede even the smallest defeat.

“I don’t care,” he grumbles. It’s enough to make you burst with joy, your face lighting up as you clutch the pencil to your chest.

“Thanks, Jungkook! You’re so kind!”

“Whatever.”

And ‘whatever’ indeed, because seeing you every day with his pencil, as if it’s the most precious thing in the world, drives him mad. He regrets his decision. He wants it back. It’s his, and what’s his should stay his, but it isn’t—and it makes him livid.

Livid in a way that fuels his pettiness, pushing him to new lengths to make your life difficult. He puts fake spiders in your bag, bumps into you when you’re struggling with your food tray in the canteen. But all of it is in vain, because you’re an omega—everyone’s darling. Every time something inconvenient happens to you, a horde of people rushes to your aid.

This alone is enough to make Jungkook reconsider his actions—or rather, the attention he’s giving you. It’s not like you care. It’s not like you treat him any differently when he’s mean. So what’s the point? At some stage, he’s not even sure why he started all this, why he loathes you so much. If he’s honest, you’ve never actually wronged him. Not once. And now, he’s running out of ways to break you, to show everyone your true colours, because no one can be this perfect, right?

It’s the Friday before his birthday weekend when you approach him again, this time holding a small present. You look up at him as he stands by his locker.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you say softly.

“What do you want?”

“Uhm, I know Sunday’s your 18th birthday and… well, I know you didn’t invite me to your party, which is totally fine! Don’t get me wrong! But I just wanted to give you this because it’s a big birthday, right? So, yeah…”

The tiny gift is wrapped in floral paper with a neatly tied bow, and it looks exactly how he imagined your presents would. It screams 'you', and he’s unsure what to say. He reckons he should just take it and thank you, but the way you’re looking up at him, so small and kind despite knowing you weren’t invited, bothers him like a sock slipping off mid-walk.

Jungkook reluctantly takes the present, ignoring the slight relieved droop of your shoulders and how your warm, soft fingers brushed softly against his.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, his eyes transfixed on the gift.

“Happy birthday, Jungkook. I hope it’ll be everything you wanted and beyond.”

And with that, you turn away, a light spring in your step, your hair moving behind you like a fairy’s wings.

Jungkook doesn’t waste any time after you leave, ripping the gift open in a rush of curiosity, only to freeze, stunned, when a tiny jewellery box is revealed to him. He’s never received any jewellery before, and the fact that it’s a gift from you—a female ‘stranger’, no less—makes his nerve endings prickle with discomfort. The idea of receiving something so personal feels wrong somehow, and yet, despite this strange feeling creeping over him, he still finds himself opening the small red box.

Inside, nestled on an equally red velvet cushion, is a delicate necklace with a pendant that bears his initials. It’s the prettiest necklace he’s ever seen, and the worst part is that he can already picture himself wearing it, the style so perfectly matching his aesthetic that it’s rather unsettling.

He carefully takes the necklace from the box, letting it twist and turn in the sunlight, the metal gleaming ever so mesmerising. But that’s when he notices an engraving on the back of the pendant, and as he peers closer, he fights the urge to rub his eyes.

You’ve had ‘alpha’ engraved onto it. There’s no way anyone could be so bold as to assume another person’s future rank, and yet here you are, making such an assumption about him. Jungkook can’t help but think maybe he was right all along—there’s something strange about you. You’re just a little too perfect, a little too confident in your kindness, a little too bold in your presumptions.

Shaking his head, he lets the necklace fall back into the box, snapping it shut and tossing it carelessly into his locker, fully intending to forget about it sooner or later. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Saturday night and Sunday come and go in a blur of noise, people, and anticipation. Jungkook has invited practically everyone he knows to his birthday party, hoping that with the arrival of his wolf, his mate might finally be revealed as well. But no one who attends is his mate, and this realisation drags his mood dangerously low. He feels a nagging stab in his chest that he can’t shake, made even heavier by the recurring thought that you, little Miss Perfect, were right all along—Jungkook has become an alpha, just as you predicted. Typical.

What infuriates him even more is that on Monday morning, as you—like always—walk past his locker on your way to the lecture hall, the world seems to slow around him. He watches in disbelief as you suddenly stop, staring at him with wide eyes that shimmer with unshed tears. You look stunned, but more than that, you look happy, as though you’ve just discovered something wonderful. And then, in the midst of his confusion, his inner wolf starts to go wild, barking ‘mate’ over and over again, leaping with excitement inside him.

It should be a moment of joy, a moment where he feels relief and happiness in finally knowing who his mate is. But instead, all Jungkook feels is denial, a desperate refusal to accept the truth, even though, deep down, he knows that you’re everything he ever wanted in a mate.

Still, he turns away from you, ignoring the way your face crumples, the way your bright, hopeful tears turn into ones of sadness, the way you rush past him with your head down, leaving his wolf whimpering in confusion and hurt. Jungkook tries to convince himself that this can’t be real, that it can’t be right, even though every part of him knows it’s exactly what he wanted, what he’s been waiting for.

In the days that follow, he struggles to keep up his usual routine of tormenting you, making snide remarks whenever he gets the chance, but there’s no joy in it anymore. You’re not kind to him the way you used to be, not anymore. You don’t smile at him, don’t even really smile at anyone; instead, you accept his cruelty with a resigned, sad look in your eyes and a forced, brittle smile that never quite reaches your eyes.

Each day, it becomes harder and harder for Jungkook to suppress his wolf, who clearly isn’t on the same page with his cold treatment of you. His wolf growls at him, restless and unhappy, frustrated with the way things are. And Jungkook knows—he understands why—but he feels trapped.

How could he possibly make things right after all he’s done to you? How could he ever redeem himself after letting his bitterness and resentment carry him so far? It doesn’t help that the necklace you gave him is now tucked securely under his shirt, the cool metal pendant resting against his chest, near his heart, multiplying the ache that’s slowly but surely forming there as well. He fiddles with it absentmindedly, the action soothing in a way he can’t explain, though it only makes the guilt grow.

“Jungkook?”

He no longer startles when you appear, his wolf always sensing your presence before you even speak, and your voice has become so quiet, so broken, that it doesn’t have the same effect it once did.

Looking at you now, standing there with your eyes downcast and your voice soft, makes him wish he could take it all back—every harsh word, every petty action. He wishes he could go back and rewrite everything, build something good between you instead of tearing it down. But it’s too late for that, far too late, and he knows it.

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to continue, your voice wavering slightly. “I know it’s random, but I noticed your grades haven’t been as good as they used to be. I know you’re not the kind of person who needs help, but… if there’s anything I can do, just let me know, yeah?”

He wants to snap at you, wants to push you away, but he’s so exhausted—exhausted from pretending he doesn’t care, exhausted from pretending he hates you, and most of all, exhausted from fighting this undeniable bond between you.

Tears prick at his eyes, overwhelming him with guilt, frustration, and something else he can’t quite name. He’s so fed up with himself, so trapped in the mess he’s made that he doesn’t know how to fix it, doesn’t even know where to start.

“Hey… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” you say, your voice tinged with panic now as you shift nervously on the spot, your hands reaching out towards him only to pull back, unsure of what to do. “I’m sorry…”

“Stop!” Jungkook yells, and the sound of his own voice surprises him. You flinch, your entire body recoiling as if he’s physically struck you, your trembling hands clasping tightly in front of you.

“I… I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers, and before Jungkook can say anything else, you turn and run, disappearing down the hall, leaving him standing there with the misery of his guilt pressing down harder than ever.

To think it couldn’t get worse was the stupidest thought Jungkook ever had, because it got worse. Not only did his little outburst suffocate him in guilt, but it also made you avoid him every chance you got. It also didn’t help that most people noticed your changed persona, adding one plus one and recognising Jungkook as the culprit.

He doesn’t fault them, doesn’t really mind the insults coming his way, of being heartless for not wanting a mate like you, when he knows they speak the truth. He doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve someone who he clearly hurts without a true reason.

And the way his inner wolf retreats now from him too, is something he understands as well, because there’s literally nothing he could do to mend what he’s broken.

It’s one afternoon after classes have just finished, and he’s walking out of the school when he notices you cornered against the wall by some other alphas, three in total. Jungkook’s immediately enraged, and it’s then that his wolf rises to full strength, baring his teeth and growling violently.

You’re clearly uncomfortable, clearly scared of what might happen, especially when one of these alphas gets in your face, giving you no way to escape. The last straw for Jungkook is when one runs his filthy finger along your beautiful face.

“Hey!” Jungkook roars, storming towards the alphas who have now turned to laugh in his face. “Back off.”

“What?! She’s fair game.” One mocks, while you’re still pressed against the wall, but your eyes are hopefully locked onto Jungkook.

“I said back off my mate.”

They do, but only to now lunge at Jungkook, thinking that outnumbering him will shoo him away. But it doesn’t—Jungkook won’t let anyone else touch you, his wolf and himself ready to do anything to protect you. And so, Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to take each one of them down.

Driven by adrenaline, he doesn’t notice the sting of the hits he couldn’t block, but it’s nothing compared to the urge to protect you with all he has, all he is.

One after the other falls to the floor, while blood trickles from his split lip, knuckles burning and swollen, his chest still heaving, his wolf still angrily jabbing at the air.

“Jungkook?” His eyes snap up to you when you call for him, and he’s relieved to find no repulsion or fear in them when they lock onto him.

“Are you okay?”

“Thank you,” you nod, and his wolf wags his tail, barking mate, deafening all his other senses.

“Good."

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?”

You hesitate, and it makes him feel powerless all over again, but eventually you whisper, “Because I’m not who you wanted.”

It’s broken, it’s defeated, and it’s everything he never wanted his mate to say, because it’s not the truth. Never was. Never will be.

“But you are.” Jungkook tries to smile, despite knowing it’s not hopeful or kind, but sad in all the ways his decisions led it to be.

“I am?”

Seeing your eyes gradually returning to their lively, sparkly self is more than he ever wished to witness, more than he ever should receive, but everything he ever wanted.

“You are. Always were.”

And with that, he opens his arms, stepping over the still-groaning alphas to get closer to you.

With a push off the wall, you sprint into Jungkook’s arms, tears of relief running down your cheeks as he embraces you like you wished he would from the start. But it doesn’t matter, because no time apart could ruin the feeling of him embracing you and your bond.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook mumbles into your hair, inhaling the magnificent scent of you.

“It’s fine, everything’s fine.”

And as you cling to him, your wolves finally as content as you are, you know that you’d never change a thing, because it’s better to be loved willingly than with no other choice.

[nymph-ette111]

"no!!! (insert creepypasta character) wouldn't love or date you!!! they would kill you!! stop ruining the fandom!" WAH WAH WAHHHHH LET PEOPLE HAVE FUN!1!11!!! the fandom has always been silly like this although it was a bit toxic everyone was into self shipping and making OC's to insert themselves and have fun... I swear to god if I see another person talking about some "he/she would kill you irl" type of shit... YES!! WE KNOW!!!! AND WE DON'T GIVE A FUCK

[unluckilyimnot]

OMG I JUST NOTICED YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN THAT JUST MADE MY DAY!!!!

anyways can you do headcanons for bllk character introducing you to either their teams or the press iykwim

pretty please I loveeeee your posts so much <333333

Introducing their s/o to their team - isagi, kaiser, rin, hiori, chigiri

m.list | rules

Note : Hiii you're so cute lslsls thank you sm for your request <3 I chose this one cause somebody else asked about the press finding out so I'll do both !

Nobody is mentioned so I'll choose but feel free to ask for your fav ! 

Isagi 

He's so shy but happy omg

He's probably blushing if they keep saying how pretty you are 

Those who ask a bit more about you earlier to isagi will probably start a conversation more easily 

But you love to talk with everyone!

If you're famous, they'll ask about it or how you two meet or even about your job 

But if you're someone like you and me they're begging to know how you two meet 

They're probably expect something really cheesy based on isagi himself 

He probably get teased a lot afterwards but he takes it easy 

he’s just so happy you can finally meet them 

Rin 

he’s pretty but awful so everybody think he’s bitchless

no need to say that they GASPED when he introduced you

you seem so sweet, what are you doing here ?

“He paid you ?” i definitely see some of them ask you that - like bachira 

wait until you tell them that you asked him and he wasn’t planning of doing without you mentioning it 

they’re shocked, they feel betrayed and are ready to make a scene to him before you calm it down 

everybody want to know more about you, asking you lot of questions to the point that rin has to claim you back 

holding your waist or wrist to remind you that he’s there too 

I think it goes more simply that he imagined at first 

He's always happy when they ask about you even if he doesn’t show it

Chigiri 

just like that time they react when they saw his sister, they will ask him who you are even if it’s obvious that you’re his s/o 

one or two would probably ask you out on a date to make him mad - tbh it’s really funny to see

he’ll blush and become protective over you, adorable 

he would roll his eyes at their jokes but as long as you’re laughing at them, it’s fine with him

he’ll get tease by the gaze he sent you all night, sweet and soft, speaking all the love he has for you before his tongue can 

he’s a bit cash if they’re doing to much though, they have to be careful around his lover 

Hiori

he talks about you regularly so they’re all happy when he mentions that you’ll tag along for a team meal they’re HYPE

they’re so happy to see you it’s cute, you wish every partner is welcome that way 

you’re so soft spoken it totally make sense that you ended up with him 

you’re probably a little reserved and overwhelmed at first but they’re calmer than you thought 

it’s also a lot funnier than you thought so, even if you stay glued to hiori’s side, you can enjoy the night to the fullest ! 

he checks on you frequently, catching a lot of eyes and they make sure to let him know 

you two are just so cute for sure damn couple goal 

Kaiser 

ness is jealous lmao 

he’s very cocky and proud to introduce you to them 

you’re so precious and most importantly : you’re his - he can’t just keep it to himself 

sharing the world about you start with his teammates

he’ll tell them how you two meet and how you fall in love with him - as if he wasn’t the one down bad - with his arm around your shoulders to keep you close 

he trusted them but they can’t touch <3 even in a friendly way 

you’re really welcome though, they’re all very interested in you and your life/job 

it goes pretty smoothly, even if ness is a little salty 

Sae 

he’s reluctant to say the least, he knows he won’t see the end of it 

you’re amazing, he loves you unconditionally

but you’re so good like that that he knows he will have to deal with them asking how you’re doing and he doesn’t like it 

he says yes anyway, and one day he brings you with him at an unofficial meeting 

they’re so shocked but happy to see you in real life (you’re on his lock screen) : they want to know everything

sae is a rather intimate person and doesn’t talk much about his personal life so you’re the one who will tell them the cheesy stuff

yes you received death glares, you you still answer them with a big smile 

you’re funny, they already really love you and they can’t wait to see you more around

I hope you liked it !

[chilschuck]

— HEADCANONS: how they’d kiss you.

꒰ charas: ꒱ LAIOS & CHILCHUCK.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 300

꒰ rating: ꒱ sfw like always!

✦ hi there!! this is my first post on this acc, and it’s just smth small i put together while reading the manga. if you’d like more characters, feel free to rq them in my askbox! i wanted to write something for laios for my beloved jackie, and i wanted to throw in some chil as well! sorry if it’s a bit ooc… just wanted to have some fun lol. hope you enjoy!

— LAIOS: sweet but inexperienced.

Laios kisses like he’s unsure of himself. The first time you kiss him, leaning up to press a soft peck to his lips, his heart just about stops. He’s not used to affection; kisses with him at first will be chaste and rushed. Expect his lips to be a little chapped and his motions to be a little rough, but ease him into it and he’s a fast learner. Soon enough he’ll be the one leading, sweeping you off your feet. (And probably literally, with how tall this man is.) Imagine a lot of shy touches when your lips are on one another’s, and think about just how warm his embrace is. Laios will more than likely just pull you into his arms when he can and snatch a quick kiss, before continuing on with what he was doing before. When it’s just the two of you, he seeks your attention, speckling smooches all over your cheeks until you finally grab him by his and pull him in.

— EXTRA: kiss him while he’s rambling and you might just make his brain stop working. (but be sure to assure him it’s because you like when he talks!!!)

— CHILCHUCK: slow and steady.

Since he’s more experienced, kisses with him will be addicting. It probably takes a while to encourage him to give you that bit of affection, (as he doesn’t just go and do this with anyone!) But once you have him in your clutches, he’ll make sure you won’t want to part. He gives and he takes, his hands more than likely digging into your hips as he tilts his head just that right way to get the kiss deeper. Encourage him by winding your fingers through his hair and you might just hear him groan. You definitely have to wait until you’re away from everyone before getting to the more serious kisses, (you know how he is) and I imagine he may even nip at your bottom lip when he wants to lick into your mouth. Chilchuck’s cheeks definitely still get red with every kiss. (At least in the beginning, lol. I feel like he’s easily flustered a bit.)

— EXTRA: sweet talk this man. my god, tell him how skilled he is and how much you enjoy watching him work and just watch how he reacts. and maybe when no one’s looking he’ll place a quick kiss to your shoulder.

[mellosdrawings]

I need to know!!

I have no idea if you've already done this but I need to know what Jamil and Kalim's dynamic is in the 10 years in the future thing. How is Kalim doing? Did he get married? To who? What is he up to?

Than you!

(Jamil's phone background pic)

KALIM! Oh dear, I have a lot to say.

First I'm gonna tackle the marriage status subject. I... actually don't ship Kalim with many other characters so I haven't bothered to think about a potential partner. I know the Ruggie/Kalim/Silver is a popular ship or something. Just imagine whoever you want with him, I'll leave that side of the story to your imagination.

Now, for his overall situation! Here's how I see it:

After a handful of years learning under his father, Kalim became the head of House Asim while his father enjoyed early retirement. One of his first decisions was, if not to completely free his servants, then at least to offer them more freedom (that's how Jamil still managed to secure himself some holidays to spend with Leona and Vil). That's also how Najma ended up being able to aim for college and study both tradings and politics. After Jamil leaves to be with his now husbands, Kalim revises his close circle of advisors/investors/whatever other powerful people he'd have by his side, and asks Najma to become his advisor.

Not bodyguard. Not servant. Not food taster. Advisor.

Because he knows he still tends to be too kind or thoughtless and he needs someone as ruthless as Jamil at his side. Jamil has left, so he asks Najma who is studying precisely for the things he needs. She happily accepts.

As for Kalim and Jamil's relationship, it was still tense for years after NRC. They both tried to make their relationship better but their situation wasn't helping at all. Once Jamil was gone with his husbands though, it became better fast. The power imbalance gone and Kalim treating Jamil's family very fairly, even giving such a high position to Najma, they managed to talk things out and start their friendship anew.

Kalim still regularly calls Jamil for advices, so does Najma since he has a lot more experience with Kalim. With Jamil's new status as Ambassador, he's also often in contact with Kalim for events or future deals between House Asim and Sunset Savanna.

The first few times they reunited after Jamil left, it was very awkward. Kalim wasn't sure how to act with Jamil anymore, if he even wanted to talk to him at all or have a drink together or hug it out. And Jamil had a hard time transitioning from servant to prince, so seeing Kalim again made him mentally backtrack several times. Eventually though they worked it out. When either of them is invited by the other, they first spend an awfully long time just hugging until they are both satisfied. They regularly spend time just the two of them to drink and catch up, gossip about whatever latest nonsense happened in their respective palaces, play Mancala, etc etc

When they have to part ways they hug for just as long. Eventually everyone gets used to it and adds a good fifteen minutes to the plannings so those two can take their time.

[imagine--if]

══⋆✰* Dating Cha Hyun-Su Includes: *✰⋆══

A/N: In honour of the second season of Sweet Home, this was mandatoryyyy 😁 just started off with some relationship hcs first but feel free to send some imagine or other headcanon requests through my inbox for Sweet Home characters if you're into it! These headcanons cover season one and two. Enjoy reading 🖤

Warnings: Sweet Home series spoilers, mentions of violence

🩸• Starting from the beginning of this monstrous series of events, the most likely way you'll meet Hyun Su is at Green Home a bit before the monster outbreak and apocalypse comes along. All you'll see of the quiet, sullen young man is his weary, unfocused gaze that briefly trails up from the ground to glance up at you in acknowledgement as he bumps into you somehow while moving into his apartment in the complex. The only sign of his interest in you from first looks is his stare lingering for just a beat longer than he'd usually bother... and that's about it. Boy's too shy and broken and tired to feel like he's good enough to do much else, let alone have a shot at even being friends with someone like you, so he'll just admire you from afar every once in a while and leave you to live your life while he despises his.

🩸• HoWeVeRrR-

🩸• The apocalypse unleashes its hell before much else can happen, and before you know it, you two are out surviving in a ruined world riddled with horrifying monsters and mutations, hiding out inside Green Home as you form the group together with the rest and try to fight off the monsters inside the building along with it infecting and warping others into gruesome, inhumane figures.

🩸• This boy's absolutely damaged and drained from all he's been through before moving to Green Home, and so it takes a lot of energy for him to slowly, slowly break out of his shell and reach out to you in return. But he will. He just needs time and patience, and Hyun-Su will find himself making the tiniest amount of small talk when you're together with the rest of the surviving group in the apartment complex. Or, most likely, it'll be him giving you most of his food when you're eating by silently and gently pushing it over to you, no eye contact, no words.

🩸• Before you, he didn't have the slightest will or reason to live, and so the only idea he can think up while dragging himself around the wreck of Green Home along with the rest of the group of survivors is to follow you around and protect you. The way he wants to die is for you, shoving himself into the way of the monster or whatever else the danger is to take him instead. Hyun-Su's absolutely fine with that idea...

🩸• Until he starts falling in loveee- 😏🖤

🩸• Everyone gets used to the sight of this boy following around after you like a moon-eyed puppy, having a tall, slightly dropping shadow trailing behind your own whenever you go somewhere to find food or weapons or whatever you've been sent to find. From Season One, where Lee Eun-Hyuk tries forcing him to do everything and using his monster side as an advantage, if it involves steering clear of you or putting you in any danger, boy's had enough. Hyun-Su will defend himself in his own quiet but intense way, his dark glare bleeding into Eun-Hyuk's with a few mumbling words of a threat before he wanders off to find you again.

🩸• Hyun-Su does consider trying to completely leave you alone, since everyone's aware that he's dangerous with his monster brimming to the surface from inside of him and his other symptoms and dangerous instability being infected, but it feels like the worst form of torture. He's alone again, in a world grimmer than the last, and he has no idea what to do with himself except feel like crying and telling you everything about everything when you sit by him and ask him if he's doing alright.

🩸• I think that this guy would be mega touch-starved after living in isolation for so long after all the bullying and tragedies with his family, so having you as a comforting voice of reason and warmth is something he can't help but melt into after you've been unspoken friends during the apocalypse and doesn't have the fight left in him to reject you if you try to clean bloodstains and patch up his wounds after a nasty confrontation. After that, it's safe to say that out of the whole group of survivors together in Green Home, he'll always be naturally apprehensive and distrusting towards them all, but if it's you that's trying to point something out or is worried about something; let him go get his weapon, he's coming with you.

🩸• His general aim and instinct is to protect good people and be some source of help and comfort that's been so unfamiliar to him personally, but with you, instinct is boosted 10000000% because it's you. You're too good for this world, way too good for him, and if you die, he dies. This concept basically becomes something Hyun Su isn't even fully aware of until the point where you might almost die somehow being confronted by monsters with the others, which is where you'll witness himself having a full-on freak-out in his mind and using all his strength and darker, monstrous side to come out on top to save your life.

🩸• After the danger's gone and you're alone in a quiet room to recover and process what happened, that's all the time you need to make it official, hugging him tightly and thanking him, while Hyun-Su shakily pats your back in return before giving up and hugging you back equally as tightly, staying in a protected embrace as long as time will let you.

🩸• There's so much raw love and trust and protection in a relationship with Hyun-Su, it's unbelievable 😭 he's so clingy and sweet and ridiculously romantic in private with you until you point it out, which results in a blushing red sight and not being able to look you in the eye in bashfulness for about a straight hour before he gets over it. In public, it's still obvious that you're together, with smaller signs of affection and togetherness like holding hands, or doing that coupley thing where you whisper together in the back corners of rooms or give each other brief, subtle looks that say everything you need to understand what it means and where to run or go or something.

🩸• At first, he is a little reluctant to get too close to you because of that lingering fear of accidentally hurting you or his monster side popping out to ruin everything, but with some time and small steps, he'll eventually give up trying to be overly cautious and let him be wholly soothed by you, which was the biggest relief of all for him.

🩸• But just as you're getting properly closer and in touch with each other as romantic partners as well as best friends and survivors in this mess together, his monster alter ego personality will find it the perfect time to mess around with his head and find a way to overpower Hyun-Su, meeting you properly in the process.

🩸• Now, his monster side is a whole other story when it comes to personality, but if you think that means you'll be left alone or hated or something, think AgAiN, and then again, because no :)

🩸• Hyun-Su's monstrous side is darker, daring, dangerous, and with you, madly possessive and protective. I mean, he won't even try to hold himself back from taking things to extremes and spilling as much blood as necessary if he gets a weird vibe from someone around you, or if someone outrightly tries to attack you. Even if it's a monster like him, there's enough threat in thrashing them through a few solid walls and leaving some biting words behind before stalking off.

🩸• Monster Hyun-Su's a massive starer by the way, so those unnervingly blue eyes are going to be a sight you'll have to get used to, like literal inches away from your face when you wake up, studying you for wounds, or just studying you in general. There's something about you that's just so fascinating to him, and this side of him literally does not know what boundaries are, so he's all up in your face studying you in curiosity with a soft but dark smirk on his face, while you're just "😐"

🩸• Kind of gross but Monster Hyun-Su has the weirdest affection ever. Like, he enjoys feeding you when you're hungry, mostly questionably bloody-looking things until you get it in his head that you're not Hannibal Lecter and just want a breakfast bar or something 😭 and when this guy goes to hug you, it'll be ridiculously tight, sometimes his wing breaking out of its shell to wrap over you, which is kind of sweet. Until he goes to kiss you and it's not a kiss at all, it's more him living up to his monstrous reputation by licking at your skin like some kind of dog until you squeal and push him away, which he always finds hilarious. Meanwhile, normal Hyun-Su's mortified 😂

🩸• Normal Hyun-Su and Monstrous will most likely make an agreement between them to make sure you're kept alive and as unharmed as possible, protect you from any sort of danger, so if you thought you had a shadow following after you before the split between them, you've got a much more threatening one now, so it'd be very hard for much damage to come to you at all. And good luck if you want some time alone to wander and think by yourself, because if he doesn't straight-up follow you out with no buts like usual, he'll be watching you somewhere close at all times.

🩸• I feel like Hyun-Su's monstrous side would find it funny to make you jump, like falling down out of nowhere from a building or something right in front of you when you thought you were alone or something stupid like that. You'll give him an annoyed glare of protest, and he'll just smirk smugly and teasingly with a fake-innocent shrug of "something wrong?"

🩸• To sum up the whole. predicament you've gotten yourself into here, falling in love with Hyun-Su would pretty much protect you from ninety per cent of the apocalyptic mess of the world while being showered with all the lost love and affection and longing he thought were dead along with all the rest of his hopes and energy from the beginning. And then to keep you on your toes, you've got the monstrosity inside of his head coming out at random moments to obsess over you before Hyun-Su can come back to reality again. But whoever's at the surface, and wherever you two are, he'll always, always be there watching you and with you, one way or another.

[slytherinslut0]

hey can you please do tom x hufflepuff reader hcs??

Tom Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader headcanons.

(A/N: idk how this ended up being so long. i got carried away. i love tom. i love his complexity. i could write about him forever. anyways, enjoy:))

tom riddle and a hufflepuff reader would be damn near polar opposites, and there are a few reasons why i say this->

tom is a very reserved man, yet undoubtedly driven by an ambitious and power-hungry nature, always seeking dominance and control in every aspect of his life.

hufflepuffs, on the other hand, are known for their kindness, their loyalty, prioritizing the well-being of others over personal ambition.

tom riddle is the type of man who is not afraid to deceive others for personal gain, while hufflepuffs value fairness and honesty in each of their interactions.

not to mention how tom is emotionally restrained, rarely displaying vulnerability or empathy, while hufflepuffs are known for being emotionally open and expressing genuine care/understanding for others.

i believe tom would be rather annoyed by hufflepuffs, perhaps even put off by their loud, outgoing nature, but i also feel as though he would respect them more than other houses because they are known for being more by-the-book.

i believe this pairing would be WONDERFUL for him, and i’d imagine it’d go a little like this->

perhaps you and tom would be involuntarily paired up for an assignment, an unlikely collaboration that tom figured would be an easy mark for him.

originally, he’d find himself irritated by your constant cheerful and optimistic nature; finding it rather absurd that you weren’t at all fazed by his cold, cunning attitude.

there’d definitely be initial clashes between the two of you, disagreements of methods, but tom would find himself stunned as you met every one of his suggestions with a positive, passionate attitude, not daring to get discouraged or frustrated with him.

your unwavering optimism would be shocking to him. especially in the face of his calculated cynicism. it’d be then, that tom would be astonished by your dedication and genuine passion for learning, a rare quality to obtain.

his initial cold, guarded demeanour would slowly begin to fade.

tom would find himself beginning to pay more attention to you, his curiosity extending to outside the confines of the classroom.

he’d begin to wonder if your genuine kindness is truly authentic or merely a manipulation tactic, leading him to question the sincerity of your character.

which he’d only question because that’s the way his mind works.

he’d never known someone so open and genuine like you. he’d convince himself you had ulterior motives.

however, tom would quickly observe that your authenticity extended universally, and was not just directed at him.

your small acts of kindness and interactions with strangers became evident, and he’d witness your unwavering positivity even in the most challenging situations.

he’d notice how thoughtful you are, how you’d spend your free time maintaining the Owlery, ensuring it’s well-kept and sanitary.

he’d watch you from a distance as you continually brought the owls food and water, giving them attention and love which was something you did upon your own accord, without expecting any compensation.

it became clear to him that you did these things because you genuinely loved to do them, not because you wanted praise for it. and at this, tom was completely taken aback.

your radiant smile, capable of lighting up any room, would become a revelation to him, leaving him puzzled about how he initially overlooked this aspect of your character for all those years.

it’d be here that inner turmoil would begin to brew within tom as he’d have no choice but to acknowledge your ability to see the good within everything and everyone, and especially within him. something not many people are capable of.

as time passed, you couldn't help but notice a gradual softening in him.

during your collaborative sessions on the assignment, he became more receptive to your ideas, actively seeking your thoughts.

surprisingly, he started engaging in conversations beyond the project, asking about your day and exhibiting small changes in his demeanour that were entirely new to you.

tom was breaking, his walls slowly being chipped away by your infectious smile and enthusiasm.

the unexplainable shift in his perspective both intrigued and unsettled him, as you became the catalyst for awakening emotions he never believed he could feel.

he’d try to fight back, he’d try to get himself together, but it was useless. you were in his head, and there was no getting you out.

however, given the fact that tom struggles with showing even the smallest amounts of vulnerability, he’d try to be as subtle as possible with his interest in you. hoping that you’d eventually catch on.

perhaps he’d begin with small gestures, like gifting you a book on rare and beautiful magical creatures, saying that he noticed it in the library and thought of you, believing you might like it.

it would not go unnoticed by you just how considerate this was, and just how much he’d begun to take awareness of your interests.

you found yourself engrossed in the book, a sight that never failed to bring a subtle smile to tom’s face whenever he spotted you across the hall.

observing you immersed in the pages made him quietly content, often requiring a conscious effort on his part to break himself free from the captivation.

his brain would be screaming, “what the hell am i doing?” but he wouldn’t be able to deny just how much he loved seeing you enthralled by the gift.

the feeling was intoxicating, and wholly unfamiliar; he needed more. he needed to do more.

perhaps the next move he’d make would be to gift you a rare enchanted plant, after having noted your love for herbology.

he’d present the plant to you in a subtle way, saying that he’d found it while taking a stroll through the forest and thought you’d like it.

he’d go into details about its properties, its rarity and how to effectively take care of it, even though he knew you already knew all of this.

he knew you absolutely loved the fact that he cared for these plants just as much as you did. this was all part of his plan.

and of course, at this point, you’d have the hunch that he was into you; but being as perceptive and intuitive as you are, you’d know that pestering tom or trying to force him to admit feelings would be useless.

the man moves at his own pace.

so instead, you’d invite him to join you as you cleaned the Owlery, wanting to spend more time with him. the two of you would gradually become closer and closer, tom’s harsh demeanour fading away with the wind with each passing day.

and even still, tom hardly made any advances. tom hardly wanted to put himself in a vulnerable position. he wanted to be sure you wanted him before he ever revealed his intentions.

if he was touchy with you, he’d never insinuate it was because he’s into you. he’d kiss you on the cheek after walking you back to your dorm for the night, and then act like nothing ever happened in the morning.

and this might have annoyed some, but not you.

you understood that this is how tom was, and you admired him for it. you were entirely understanding. you wanted him to open up on his own terms, and you were willing to wait for him.

eventually, tom knew he couldn’t hold back his feelings anymore. he knew he needed to make you his. he knew he’d do fucking anything.

and this feeling would only multiply as he spotted you across the courtyard, speaking to a boy from your house.

your smile was glowing, your laugh was radiating, and the feeling this sight inspired inside tom’s heart could have been enough to ignite the entire castle into pure fucking flame.

whatever he was doing at this moment didn’t matter anymore, he only had one objective in mind.

making you his.

without waiting for you to finish your conversation, he’d interrupt, stating he needed to speak to you.

you’d smile, sensing his urgency, and follow him over to the far side of the courtyard, looking out at the breathtaking view of the faraway valleys and mountains.

as soon as tom was content with your seclusion, he’d cup the back of your head and crash his lips to yours, kissing you with enough fervour to make up for all the days and weeks and months he’d wished he’d have made a proper move.

pulling back, he’d meet your eyes. “i need you to be mine,” he’d whisper, as though the words scared him. “you’ve made me feel things i’ve never known possible, you’ve broken me down without effort. you are the most beautiful, genuine woman i’ve ever met, and i have been falling in love with you for months…i can’t hide it anymore, i need you…”

the words would be music to your ears, the joy unfathomable.

of course, you’d be his.

[cozage]

congratulations on reaching 2k 🫶💕

For the event, I was wondering if you could do option one with reader being hit on right in front of them? With shanks, Sanji, zoro and if possible Nami <3

Hehe I love your writing so much!!

Hii thank you! And thank you for the request :)

Characters: gn reader x Shanks, Sanji, Zoro, Nami Cw: creepy bar guys who can't take a hint Total word count: 730

Take a Hint

Shanks

Shanks’s reaction really depends on the kind of mood he’s in. 

Sometimes, you both go into a bar in a competitive mind, trying to see who can get more free drinks throughout the night. 

He enjoys watching guys trying to flirt with you. Plus, free booze is free booze. It’s funny how they never seem to ask if you’re there with someone before they buy you a round. 

But sometimes it really rubs him the wrong way (especially when he’s in the middle of a conversation with you and someone interrupts him to talk to you). 

He usually says some snarky comment like “If you’re going to buy one for my friend here, you should probably buy one for me, considering we’re together.”

He doesn’t ever start a fight, but he will finish them. And he will always take up for you if someone says something rude to you or tries to put their hands on you. 

Sanji

People rarely get the chance to try and flirt with you because Sanji is literally all over you 24/7. He wants everyone to know that he belongs to you. 

However, there are some brave (and foolish) souls that sometimes try while he’s got his back turned or he steps away from a moment. 

The moment he is back, he immediately steps between you and the man who’s trying to shoot his shot. “Is this guy bothering you?” he’ll ask.

He’ll turn back to the guy, his curly brows furrowed in anger. “Unless you want to get your ass kicked, buddy, you might want to move along.”

Afterward the flirter leaves, Sanji will fawn over you, asking if the man hurt you or did anything that made you uncomfortable. He won't relax until he knows for sure you’re okay. 

Zoro

Zoro knows you can handle yourself. And besides, it’s amusing to watch. 

He lets you handle the situation. Most of the guys take rejections pretty well, but there are a few stubborn ones who insist on buying you a drink even after you’ve turned them down. So you accept a drink.

When you accept, Zoro’s focus on you usually sharpens slightly. He watches carefully for any passes this guy might try to make on you. If you show even an ounce of discomfort, Zoro’s hand is resting on his blade, just in case. 

Your eyes meet his, and he’ll mouth “You okay?”. If yes, he’ll leave you be. But if it’s no, he’ll take action. 

He’ll position himself between you and the man, taking a nice long drink of the alcohol the guy bought you. Then he’ll plant a kiss firmly on your lips and smirk at you, ignoring the fussing happening from the other man. 

“Listen man,” he’ll say, resting his hand on his blade as he turns to him. “I think you need to learn what rejection is. So why don’t you just buzz off, and leave us alone to enjoy this fine alcohol?”

If it leads to a fight, that’s fine. Zoro has never minded fighting for your honor before. And he’s never lost a bar fight. 

Nami

Listen, Nami is no stranger to people flirting with her. And neither are you. 

Plus, free things are always better. Which is why you two set up a system. 

If a guy starts flirting with you and can’t take a hint, well, he’s basically just inviting in some unfortunate circumstances. 

So you let him buy you a drink. Maybe two, if you’re feeling crazy. You keep him distracted, telling him stories about your life. 

Of course he thinks you need saving by a big strong man or whatever he imagines he is. He has no clue you could knock him out in about 3 seconds flat. But you just smile and listen to his clearly made-up stories. 

Meanwhile, Nami is absolutely robbing him blind. It’s actually hilarious to watch. She starts out with his wallet, but she slowly gets more confident as he gets more drunk. She steals his necklace, watch, even his rings. She’s truly amazing at thievery; you can’t help but be in awe at her skill.

At the end of the night, he goes to pay his tab, and you and Nami quietly slip out together hand-in-hand, serenaded by the screams of panic from that dreadful man.

[pikahlua]

Fourteen Days of My Hero Academia

Greetings, friends! The ending has been announced for beloved shounen manga My Hero Academia by Kohei Horikoshi, and I thought it would be a nice opportunity for everyone to express their love of this amazing series! So I am posting a series of prompts for everyone if they would like to participate in this little fandom challenge.

The idea is that, on each day listed, you will create and post something with respect to the day's theme. By create, I mean whatever your heart desires. It could be a fanfic, a fanart, a fanvid, a moodboard, a diorama, a meta post, a screenshot, a poem, a drabble, a few sentences of reflection, anything really! Whatever your brain dreams up! The only requirements are that it qualifies as some sort of fan creation for MHA and that it pertains to the day's theme. The final day of the event will be the official release date of the final chapter of MHA: August 5th, 2024.

Any given day may have multiple prompts. You do not have to do all of them (unless you really, really want to), rather you may pick the one prompt that inspires you the most! And feel free to interpret each prompt however you like. For example, on day 8, you may wish to interpret "line" as a spoken piece of dialogue or as a drawn shape such as the way Horikoshi does creative paneling. On day 11, you could interpret "name" as a nickname, a code name, the kanji in a character's name, or any special meaning in a character's name. Let your imagination run wild!

You may skip out on days if you wish or need to. You may put as much or as little time and effort into this as you like. You could start working now to make some big works, or you could use this opportunity to do a little daily journal project. The sky is the limit! The goal here is to spend some time thinking about MHA before it ends and to make a collection of little fanworks for everyone to enjoy in the process!

Please tag your submissions as #14DaysofMHA (ideally as the post's first tag) so that everyone can enjoy them!

Without further ado, here are the prompts! Thank you @siflshonen for the assistance brainstorming them!

Fourteen Days of MHA Daily Prompts

Day 1 (July 23rd): Family, Home, House

Day 2 (July 24th): UA Academy, Education

Day 3 (July 25th): Weather, Light Fades to Rain

Day 4 (July 26th): The Ladies

Day 5 (July 27th): Quirk, Special Move

Day 6 (July 28th): Minor Character

Day 7 (July 29th): First Impressions, Just One Bad Day

Day 8 (July 30th): Title, Lyric, Music, Line

Day 9 (July 31st): Legacy, Story, Past, Childhood

Day 10 (August 1st): Emotion, Heart

Day 11 (August 2nd): Symbol (of), Name

Day 12 (August 3rd): Face, Smile, Humor

Day 13 (August 4th): Future, Growth, Change, Evolution

Day 14 (August 5th): Anything you want

Feel free to send asks if you need clarification on anything. I will try to edit in any new information to this original post for everyone's convenience!

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | Sequel

[Part 1]

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral f receiving, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, anxiety, Reader has a child, grief, fluff, pregnancy, not proofread. 

Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

Words count : 9150

Author's note : Hello everyone!! Sorry for the wait, I've been very busy, but here's part two of Reunion (or at least the first part two, let's call it part 2.1 hehe). Thank you again for all you kind comments and the love you've given my fanfic omg!! Spoiler alert: this is the happy alternate ending! But I've got another bittersweet alternative ending planned 😈 If you think the first part was good enough on its own and the sequel may break the vibe, don't force yourself to read!! But if you need a happy ending, here it is <3 The plot still doesn't make any sense, but hey, we're here to have fun so enjoy ❤️

English is still not my first (or second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes <3

When you wake up, the first thing you feel is the reassuring embrace of his arms around you. You don't want to move, not even when the sunlight tickles your face through the opening between the wooden shutters, trying to make the moment last endlessly. But the growing anxiety in your stomach chases away the illusion of your fleeting happiness. 

You close your eyes a little tighter. Perhaps if you try again, perhaps if you try harder, the world around you can fade away.

Perhaps you can wake up again, in a different reality.

But it's inevitable. You know that now you're awake, it's only a matter of time before the two of you have to say goodbye forever. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you have to fight the tingling sensation at the corners of your eyes.

Why have the gods decided to be so cruel to you? They grant you one last taste of his skin on your lips before taking it from you, again. 

Haven't you given enough? 

Could they not show you mercy? 

You who had forgotten him, you who had begun to turn a new page, to seek comfort in the arms of the cold, far away from the fire and the ashes, why did you have to touch the poison that would once again stain your soul?

Behind you, Aemond buries his long nose in your hair. His hand absently caresses the skin of your thigh, just where the edge of the linen tunic you put on sometime during the night when you were cold ends. The fabric is pulled up, revealing the outline of your bottom, and you can already feel your uncle hardening between his thighs, but you don't move.

If you move, you'll make everything more real. Tangible.

You'll speed up the process of losing him, of him slipping through your fingers. 

How can you let him go, now that your heart is full again, now that you feel complete in a way you haven't felt for over three years?

How can you let him go, now that your body has retrieve the extension of itself in the arms of the man who was the cause of your torment, your moments of joy, your pain and, paradoxically, your happiness?

"I know you're awake."

You hold your breath and Aemond inhales into your hair. His hand moves down the inside of your thigh, along the hollow that joins it to your groin. He doesn't venture any further. 

His thumb rests there and brushes your skin, trying to arouse the desire in you with gentleness.

Subtly.

 He doesn't want to hurry, he doesn't want to rush you.

Not when he's been harbouring the impossible fantasy of waking up with you in his arms since the day he nearly died.

He presses harder against you, as if he doesn't want to let you go, as if he wants to be one with you again, and you feel him pulsing against your buttocks, under the linen cloth that has been pulled up a little higher. He says nothing, but he is pleading, needy, in his gestures, which is rare for him.

Something has changed, after all, and perhaps something has changed in him too. 

"I am awake, indeed, " you whisper in a voice that is still half asleep. The lump in your throat betrays the feeling of anxiety gradually creeping into your body, and Aemond seems to notice. Under your tunic, his hand moves up along your belly until it nestles against your chest, close to your heart. His thumb draws small circles, once again trying to bring you back to him.

Trying to calm your mind.

"Let us forget for a little longer," he whispers, his clenched jaw resting over your head. "Please." 

And you know he never begs. 

Aemond takes and doesn't ask.

Aemond believes he is owed everything and never gives in return.

Hearing him beg breaks something inside you, because this is the first time he does so.

Usually it was you, it was always you, begging for peace, begging for more, begging him not to leave you.

Part of him is as desperate as you are; part of him also dreads the moment when you will have to part again. Forever. It's comforting to know that his feelings are sincere, just like yours.

" Make me forget, then." You reply, moving your lower loins back against him, giving him tacit permission to explore your body once more. His fingers move down to your breasts, which he covers softly with his hand, his thumb skimming over a nipple to make it hard. You let out a gasp between your parted lips.

His hand slides lower, his palm flat against your lower belly, his fingertips brushing the light patch of hair at the top of your mound. You feel the familiar warmth growing between your thighs, in your core.

He sighs against the back of your skull, his head tilted forward. His lips search the skin at the nape of your neck, behind the long hair that has become tangled during the night, while his fingers intimately explore the secrets of your body that he knows all too well. The remnants of last night's lovemaking still smear the insides of your thighs and folds, but it doesn't matter; his fingers easily find the little bundle of nerves that they tease until you close your eyes, until your hand grips the damp, shabby sheet that covers the ragged mattress in the inn where you've spent the night.

Just the both of you, in the comfort of anonymity. 

"Let me taste you". His voice, still husky, tickles the back of your neck and you feel him shift behind you. When you feel the warmth of his bare chest, against which you're nestled, leave your back, your body automatically tries to move back against him. You still need him. You still need him to chase away the lump of anxiety in the pit of your stomach and the voices that keep reminding you that you're only postponing the fateful moment. Your hand slips under your white tunic and wraps around his wrist to force him to stay there, to hold his fingers against the source of heat spreading from your core. Your hips are demanding, grinding against his hand. "On your back," he insists, and stands up on his forearms.

With reluctance you turn over. You obey, lying on your back, your hair spilled around your head on the flat, uncomfortable pillow on which you slept badly. The white tunic that serves as your nightgown is pulled up, crumpled, just above your crotch, which it barely conceals. 

Aemond has swung over your body, silvery strands loosening from the braid that holds his hair behind his head and sliding down his shoulders, falling in loose loops on either side of his face, tickling your cheeks.

His lilac-tinted blue eye glows with a predatory gaze, a ray of light catching in the sapphire he hasn't removed from his socket. 

He captures your lips with his own, begging for access. Aemond marks your jaw and throat with light kisses, sucking at your collarbone to make the violets of possessiveness with which he likes to adorn your body bloom. His lips travel down your chest, playing with one of the two small nipples raised by the cool air and by desire, and continue their journey past your navel. 

Your heartbeat quickens as he settles between your legs, spreading your thighs to admire the part of you he covets so eagerly. At the same time you bend your legs, your gaze falling on him, on his unravelled hair, on his eye that locks with yours. He is so close to you, so close to your warm centre, and you know that between your folds the sweet nectar that your uncle longs to taste is already flowing.

But his lips trace the inside of your thighs instead, where the skin is soft and tender, and gradually they reach the hollow that connects them to your most intimate part. He takes a malicious pleasure in building up the tension, in savouring every millimetre of you like a fine delicacy, with only the tip of his lips brushing against your skin.

His thumbs spread the tender flesh of your womanhood and then he places a chaste kiss on the very centre of you. His tongue is shy at first, tracing the slit that connects your entrance to your little knob, collecting the evidence of your desire.

As his tongue wraps around your nub, your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white. 

Aemond drinks from your essence like a thirsty man, his nose buried between your folds, rubbing your pearl.

The tip of his tongue catches what drips from your opening, and then the flat of his tongue tastes your slit, working its way up to the little nub gorged with desire. 

He maintains the same rhythm, revelling in the moans that escape from your half-open lips. Soon his middle finger begins to draw circles against your entrance, the first knuckle sliding inside, then the whole finger. Your head is thrown back and immediately your hand buries itself in his silvery hair, gripping his braid in a messy bun behind the top of his head. Forcing his face against the most intimate part of your body, forcing his lips to work on your wet warmth, you seek more contact. 

Aemond adds a second finger. He can feel you tighten around him as he searches for that particular spot, as his tongue continues to play with your bundle of nerves.

As he devours what is his, utterly his.

His fingers, the ones that aren't buried inside you, close around the flesh of your hip in a possessive grip. "Come for me," he whispers against your womanhood, his eyes lifted to you. "I know you can do it."

Your breathing becomes more erratic, faster too. You tighten the grip of your fingers in his hair, your thighs pressing either side of his face, and he collects the sweet taste of your release on his tongue with a hum. 

You feel like you're floating. The waves of warmth still wash over you, less and less intense, your breast rising and falling as you catch your breath. 

Your hand tucks a lock of his hair back behind his ear as Aemond lifts his face towards you, and you rest your hand against his cheek. His parted lips still glisten with your desire smeared across the lower part of his face. He stares at you without moving, his deep, regular breathing the only sound to break the silence that has followed your release. You stay like that for a moment, his gaze burning into yours. At any moment he might pounce on you. At any moment he might close the tiny distance separating your mouths and press his lips against yours like the starving man he is.

It's you who makes the first move. You taste yourself on his lips and your tongue entwines with his in a fiery, demanding kiss.

Straightening up, Aemond creeps between your legs, his hand on the underside of your thighs, holding them apart. He is still completely naked from the night before, he has not bothered to get dressed after your lovemaking, so you can catch a glimpse of his erect manhood, slightly curved. He wraps his hand around to guide it towards your still sensitive wet entrance.

He slides into you easily, in one slow movement. The haste of the night before, the urgency of the reunion, has given way to the tenderness and laziness of the early morning, and Aemond rocks inside you slowly. His hips undulate, punctuated by long, deep thrusts, in an illusion of domesticity. 

But the damp sheets, rough against your skin, the discomfort of the hard mattress beneath your back, remind you that your lovemaking is anything but domestic.

For Aemond is still the enemy, for Aemond is supposed to be dead.

For your family is probably looking for you at this very moment, worried that you have not returned home for the night.

But you push those thoughts away. The weight of your uncle's body on top of yours soothes the knot that forms in the pit of your stomach at the thought of time slipping away, at the thought of having to leave him again, at the thought of this being the last time you will taste his lips, his skin.

Aemond is gentle, and that is rare enough to be worth mentioning. He has never been so gentle, so soft, in the limited time that you have been married.

Between you, there had been the devouring, consuming passion, the power play that in your submission had granted you dominance.

Between you it had been raw and devastating more than gentle and tender.

His fingers run the length of your body to your core, combining his slow, deep thrusts with the movement of his fingers against your clit.

There are only few words exchanged between you, as if you were both afraid to break the grace of the moment.

His panting, noisy breath echoes in the silence, skimming the skin of your throat, then mingling with yours as the shadow of his lips brushes against yours. He rests his forehead against yours, your hand cupping his cheek, sliding behind his neck, and you are transported into a cocoon of intimacy where nothing else exists around you.

There is only his body against yours, warm and reassuring.

There is only him inside you and the slow movement of his hips.

There is only your breathing, blending in the space that separates your mouths.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" He whispers against your lips as you close your thighs around him. "How much I dreamed of this tight little cunt?" You swallow his words. Your hips meet his as he pushes against you. He is reaching deep inside you. Despite the intimacy of the moment, his body oozes power and darkness, and you can't help but be drawn to that side of him that complements yours so well. 

You can't stop your body from aching for him. 

"You could have been my queen," he says as his movements grow stronger. He won't last long, but neither will you. He's inside you, where you like to feel him, and your walls clench around his member. "And I would have set the whole world on fire for you." He thrusts. "Burned it to the ground" He thrusts again. "All for you." And again.

The old wood of the bed creaks with each of his movements.

You seek out his lips, just to brush them against yours. 

Without sealing the kiss.

"And I would have accepted," you answer with a whimper. "I would have been your queen, qybor." In another life, you think you would.

In another life, in another universe, you would have been his queen.

A grunt escapes his lips and lands in the hollow of your ear. Aemond straightens on his bent elbow, right next to your head, and he plunges into you one last time, with more power, more vigour, just as his new position allows.

You close your eyes. 

A second wave of warmth is about to engulf your body.

And you wait for it, you welcome it.

"Look at me when I come inside you," he growls hoarsely as his seed pours deep inside you, into the most intimate part of your body. "Look at me as I fill you up."

Your eyes lock with his, fiery as ever. A final moan escapes between your lips and you seal them to your uncle's in a feverish, wet kiss. You hold him in your arms for a moment longer, as if to allow yourself the luxury of illusion for a brief instant. 

You delay the fateful moment a little longer, fighting the minutes that inevitably slip through your fingers.

"Stay inside me just a little longer," you whisper, burying your head in the hollow of his neck where you can feel the rapid rhythm of his pulse. His arms close around you, holding you tight against him, and you hear him purr against the hair on the crown of your head. He rocks you gently.

The silence welcomes you both into its embrace and you savour it like a treasure. Your body aches in the sweetest way, your insides throbbing around his softening manhood. 

And around you, nothing exists anymore.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I've changed, you know." His hoarse voice vibrates against you, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You keep them closed. 

You're not sure if Aemond has really changed. Aemond is ruthless, cold, brutal, calculating, merciless. Cruel. You're not sure if Aemond can ever change, but he shows unusual tenderness, and maybe, just maybe, you allow yourself to doubt. You indulge in the illusion. 

Perhaps Vhagar's death has broken something in him. 

Perhaps it's true, perhaps he's not the same man anymore.

He's not sorry for what he has done. He never will be. He's too proud, even if you can catch the glimmer of remorse that colours his icy eyes when he is not looking at you.

Does he think of your little brother? Is he haunted by the memory of him, as you have been for so many years?

Does he think of the innocents he killed without flinching, the blood he spilled in the Riverlands that now stains the burned grass? 

Is his sanity slowly being eaten away by the atrocities he has committed with his own hands? 

He has changed. You are not sure if he's changed for the better or for the worse, but he has indeed.

Daemon has changed too. So has Rhaenyra. So has Jace.

You too have changed.

For war changes people, war makes them weary and wary, it shatters something in the body that will never be the same again. It hollows out the roundness of the cheeks, it deepens the dark circles under the eyes, it fades the sparkle of childhood that remains in the eyes.

Aemond seems to be waiting for an answer, but the words remain stuck in your throat. I know, you want to whisper, I know, but suddenly you've forgotten how to speak. His thumb draws the soft line of the underside of your breast.

The future terrifies you more than ever. You had made peace with your past, you had come to a conclusion that, even if it pained you, had given you some respite. 

Seeing your uncle alive had reawakened your demons. 

Spending the night in the embrace of his arms had revived everything you had buried deep, deep down. 

The past had returned, creeping towards you, gnawing at the corners of your heart and at what remained of your sense of stability and certainty. 

Now you are plunged into doubt. 

Just as you were a little over three years ago, when you were informed of his death, when you had to learn to live with the choice that had never really been given to you.

Just as three years ago, when you noticed a familiar lilac-tinged blue in Rhaegar's eyes.

Like when you had to live with the memories that haunted you, that were slowly eating away at what little sanity you had left.

Like when you finally decided to leave for the North.

Aemond seems to sense your anguish, because his fingers get lost in your hair. 

"What are we going to do now?" 

Finally, you dare to utter the inevitable words that have been hanging on the tip of your tongue since you woke up, words you've swallowed so many times this morning. You immediately blame yourself. 

Saying them only makes them more real.

They tear at something in the imaginary cocoon you've built for yourselves. You bury your face against his skin, breathe in his scent, as if you never want to forget him.

For you know how fleeting memories can be.

You remember how his face faded with each passing day.

You don't know if you'll ever be able to experience it a second time.

"We could leave," Aemond replies, as his fingers venture to your jaw, caressing the line of your cheeks with the back of his knuckles. 

He's so pragmatic, as always.

Even in this situation.

Even now.

It makes you want to shake him.

"We could run away," he says again. His gaze, fixed in the distance, falls on you at the same moment. "To Essos. Pentos. No one would know who we are." You close your eyes, and let his hoarse voice lull you into silence. "To start our own family, the three of us."

You know he is not serious. Even though he looks at you with such insistence, with that flame that flickers in the centre of his iris.

You relish his fantasy, this impossible dream. 

But you can't leave your family; Essos is not Winterfell. There, they knew where to find you. They knew you were safe. They knew you were sheltered between the walls of the northern castle, under the heavy furs, under the protection of Cregan Stark.

Essos is the unknown.

You cannot let your mother lose her only daughter, not after everything she has already lost. 

The itch is familiar, tickling at the corners of your eyes. There was a time when you thought you'd lost that sensitivity. When you thought the war had left you cold, incapable of feeling anything. Incapable of crying.

"You know I can't." Your nose rubs against his milky skin, made clammy by sweat. You keep your eyes closed because you feel the weight of his cold gaze on you, his furrowed eyebrows as he stares at you blankly, his lips pursed in a long, thin line. You don't have the courage to meet his accusing gaze, let alone the wounded look on his face as you crush all his illusory dreams into dust. 

When did you become the more pragmatic of the two? 

When did you become the one responsible for bringing Aemond back to reality?

It used to be you, the one who filled your mind with unrealistic dreams, the one who dreamed of stories and fairy tales, back when you could still dream. "They need me, you know that."

A sneer stretches across your uncle's lips as he swallows a chuckle that sounds more like an ironic growl. You feel his whole body tense against yours, a sign that he's holding back his annoyance. 

A sign that he has something to say, that he's upset, but doesn't quite know how to put it into words. 

"Like they needed you back then?" he replies scathingly, bitterness on the tip of his tongue. "When they used you as a bargaining chip to achieve their ends, hm?"  

Your red cheeks burn with shame, as if he'd slapped you. You don't move, merely swallow hard. You know there's something right about what he is saying, but you don't want to admit it. 

You've done your duty.

You've done what is expected of you as a daughter.

It was not a question of them using you. It never was. 

It was your duty, only your duty, what you were always meant to perform, wasn't it?

And yet a small voice in the back of your head had already given you a similar speech, a few years ago, but you had tried to silence it.

You refused to let Aemond admit it. You refuse to allow him to do it. He had no idea, no right to criticise your family when he'd acted like that.

When he has done what he has done.

He has no idea what it is like to be a daughter.

You don't answer, and silence falls between you again.

You wish so desperately that he could go home with you; that he could tell them that he's sorry.

You wish it were easier. 

There is no one left to wait for Aemond but you, but his son, you know that. His family has been decimated, as has yours in some ways, though you still have your parents and your older brother.

For your uncle, there's nothing left but the shadow of his existence, the shadow of who he once was, long ago.

You let your hand trace the side of his throat, your nose buried against it, your lips hovering over his skin. You lean against him, your body on top of his, pressed together as if you were afraid to let him go.

"You could come with me instead," you whisper, but you refuse to meet his gaze. There's something shameful in the words you've just spoken aloud, something naive, and your burning cheeks are proof of your embarrassment.

Almost imperceptibly, he clenches beneath you, holding his breath. This is a bad idea and you feel stupid. Naive to have dared to suggest something like this.

His voice purrs in a hm that vibrates against you. He's about to say something. He searches for words. "You know that -"

"I know." You cut him off sharply - a little more than you would have liked, your eyes raised to silence him.

You know what he thinks.

He thinks that Rhaenyra will never be his queen. He thinks he will never bend the knee to his eldest sister and her authority, which he doesn't recognise.

He thinks that with the death of Aegon, with the death of the children his brother fathered with Helaena, the throne belongs to him.

And you are aware of his ambitions. You know how perfectly the conqueror's crown fits his head. You know how it sets off the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. You remember the look of greed in his eyes every time he stared at the Iron Throne, you remember the look of pride on his face every time he scorned anyone who dared to question his decisions as Prince Regent.

You know how mercilessly he made the soldiers at Harrenhal kneel, forcing them to contemplate their impending deaths. You know the terror he has sown throughout the Riverlands.

Even in the Seven Hells you could have found more mercy than at the hands of Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond may have changed, but you're not sure he's changed enough to put aside the pride that is consuming him from within.

You take a deep breath. "You don't really have a choice, qybor." 

Fearing his reaction, you curl into a fetal position, your back to him, your knees drawn up to you. You close your eyes. You wait for his frustration.

You wait for his sentence.

You know that he is aware that he has no choice. 

He has only two options: swallow his pride or sink back into the abyss, disappear into the dark meanders of oblivion.

Rhaegar needed his father, of course, but you found him a father in Cregan Stark. 

That was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

There was no way you would give up what family you had left.

For Rhaegar needed his grandparents and his uncle even more.

Behind you, you feel your uncle's hand slip under your tunic and around your body, pulling you against him. He presses his bare chest against your back, tucking your head under his chin. His hand caresses your stomach, then his fingers brush the base of your breast.

"You know she will never be my queen. You know the throne belongs to -" But he lets the words drop without finishing the sentence, the knowledge of what he was about to say hanging in the air between you. 

As long as he remains alive, will the embers of war never truly be extinguished? 

You don't know, but you accept the risk. 

You close your eyes, as if you're about to jump into the icy depths with both feet.

"The rest is up to you, Aemond," you whisper, barely audible. "And if you have truly changed, then you will know how to make the right choice."

He says nothing. 

You savour the last few minutes of illusion you have left.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

The fear of making the wrong choice never really leaves you, but your mother chases your fears away, as she so often did when you were a child, tucking one of your dark curls behind your ear. She has her distinctive little smirk on her lips, the one that pulls the corner of her lips up towards her nose.  

The same one Lucerys had, you think sadly. 

You still miss him, even after all this time, and sometimes you wonder what kind of young man he would have become.

"You're a clever girl, my sweet clever girl," she whispers against your forehead as she cradles you in her arms. She's as beautiful as ever, as gentle with you as ever, despite the years, despite the wear and tear of war that has hardened her features and hollowed her cheeks. "And I know you have made the right decision." She lifts your chin with her forefinger to look into your eyes, and you feel like you're turning back into that shy, insecure girl who disappeared somewhere in the violence of the war all those years ago.

 "And if it should turn out that you were wrong... Daemon will be there to intervene. You know he is just waiting for that." You roll your eyes at her attempt at humour, and she plants a kiss on your forehead. 

For a split second, you truly are that carefree little girl again.

But behind your mother's humour lie fragments of reality that make your laughter bitter.

The news of your husband's survival remains a hazy blur in your mind. Sometimes you're not sure if this conversation really occurred or if you're dreaming.

You're not sure if what's around you, if the night you spent in Aemond's arms, is real or an invention of your sick mind.

Sometimes you're not really conscious of the events or how long they lasted, the lump in your stomach grows back, and once again you're destined to carve half-moons marks in the palms of your hands to soothe the tension in your body.

You told your mother first because you knew she'd be more understanding. As a mother, as a woman, she knows the meaning behind certain silences, the weight of words, the unspoken words that float between sentences. 

You know she can understand your pain and your doubts, but also your love and your compassion.

She was shocked when you told her that her younger brother was still alive. She smoothed her dress, paced back and forth, then took the time to sit down, her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes riveted to your face, looking for clues that would betray what you were thinking, what you might be hiding. She was afraid that he had hurt you. She was afraid that he would rip you away from her, just as he had once ripped your little brother away from her.

Her fingers had gently taken your hand and her thumb had drawn little circles on the back of your hand to comfort you. She listened to you first as you confessed everything. 

Where you were that night when you didn't come home. 

Who you were with.

And then she took you in her arms. She reassured you. Soothed you. 

You had been so afraid of disappointing her, of disappointing all of them, that the tension paralysing your body had finally loosened and you burst into tears.

Things had proved more complicated with Daemon. When he learned that his nephew was alive, that he wasn't forgotten forever in the deep waters of the lake near Harrenhal, he refused to believe you. He was furious. He said he had seen him fall, that he was the one who had taken his life, tearing the sky apart.

You didn't know where to look, and it was in your mother's eyes that you sought support, comfort, anything in the face of your stepfather's rage. You could feel on you the look of disappointment of your brother, Jace, as he held his shoulders up and his chin high. He wanted to prove that one day he would be a good king. With his jaw clenched, he said nothing, looking at you as if you were suddenly so foreign to him. He probably didn't know what to say, for fear of being clumsy, for fear of unintentionally hurting you, even more than by his lack of support. 

You know it wasn't his fault. 

He simply couldn't understand.

The words stuck in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, pearls glittering in the corners of your eyes while you waited impatiently for the final blow.

The final death knell that would seal your disgrace in everyone's eyes.

After all you'd endured.

Daemon stood before you, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes hard. He was staring at you as if you'd committed the ultimate treason, and you knew he was controlling himself to keep his anger from exploding. "You're going to bring him to me," he had hissed, his hand closing over your shoulder. 

" You will lure him here and he will be put to the sword." His tone left no room for argument. With the tension growing in your stomach, you sought your mother's compassionate look to calm you. You could see the fury in your stepfather's eyes, and also a mixture of fear and feelings of betrayal. You knew that, deep down, he was afraid for you because he considers you his daughter. Because Baela and Rhaena are like sisters to you. 

It was his reaction you feared most, not your mother's. His fingers dug into your skin, the floor slipping out from under you, the room swaying dangerously, and your mother had come to your rescue, trying to calm things down with her usual diplomacy.

You can't quite remember the words your stepfather said; in anger he muttered something that sounded like are you really thinking of becoming his whore again? and the words hurt like hell, but you tried to swallow the pain.

 Endure, hold your head high. That was what you had learned.

Your mother had suggested you go back to your room or spend some time with Rhaegar, her fingers gently stroking your dark locks, and as soon as you left the throne room you could hear their voices echoing through the door. 

They were arguing.

Over you.

Because of you, again.

You took a deep breath and returned to the gardens, where your two stepsisters were making your son laugh by playing with him. They had fun running around in the damp grass to the applause of Baela's little daughter, who clapped her little hands in delight.

Your fingers were still trembling when you joined them.

In the end a solution was found, for your mother feared losing you a second time. 

She remembered what had happened to Laenor, your father, when he had grown tired of the court.

She remembered what had happened to Helaena, your sweet aunt, when she could no longer bear to suffer.

It was her worst nightmare to see you torn from her again, now that she had the chance to hold you in her arms every day, to protect you again, to see you grow again.

It was her worst nightmare to see her only daughter, her only daughter and the second of her only surviving children, taken from her. 

You and Jace were all she had left of her own blood.

After long negotiations with Daemon, you had managed to bargain for your husband's life in exchange for strict conditions; increased surveillance, no bonding with a new dragon, no carrying of weapons, and the assurance that he would be executed if there was the slightest doubt about him. You proposed that you and he leave the capital, with your son as well. To return to Dragonstone. To start over on a new, blank page in a book that was already too damaged.

For you, it was also a way to ease the tensions between your family and Aemond, and perhaps find a more intimate life with your husband and son.

Rhaenyra had declared that this was the best solution: a guarantee for her to have you by her side again, a guarantee for her that you would be there.

You had been afraid of Aemond's reaction, afraid that his ego would not bear it; that he would refuse, that he would rather sentence himself to his own death than to an existence as a prisoner within his own family, condemned to live as a shadow of the man he had once been in exchange for seeing his son grow up. 

But in the end, wasn't he doomed to live as a shadow of the man he had once been, anyway?

He would never be the rider of Vhagar again.

He would never be the ruthless Prince Regent again.

He would never again be the second in line to the throne, the second son greedily waiting for fate to turn in his favour.

He hadn't been all of that for a good three years, lurking in the cold, gloomy corridors of Harrenhal like a lonely monster.

And if he went back, if he rejected your proposal, he would have condemned himself to eternal solitude at the side of a witch you would rather forget.

He had no choice, for he would never be that Aemond again. 

When you joined your husband at the meeting place, you were relieved to see him swallow his pride and accept. It was difficult, but you convinced him. 

For Rhaegar, for his son.

Aemond had suggested that you run away, far away from everything, and you almost hesitated. Running away would have allowed you to forget, of course. 

But your deepest wounds had begun to heal. You had begun to be able to face the ghosts that haunted King's Landing, the ghosts that haunted Dragonstone.

To stop there was tempting, and yet so frightening at the same time. 

The unknown terrified you. You needed familiarity now, something to fall back on, for you were so tired. 

Now you can't help bringing your thumb to your lips, nibbling the skin at the corner of your fingernail with the tip of your teeth as you walk away from Rhaenyra. A handmaiden brings you Rhaegar, and you struggle to breathe. 

You inhale.

You exhale.

The thick tuft of brown hair makes you smile. The sight of your son is enough to give you the courage to walk with a more confident stride. It's as if you were filled with new strength, for you know that he needs you more than anyone else. And for him, you've promised yourself to stay strong.

As soon as you reach him, you kneel and plant a kiss on his plump cheeks. 

He's growing up so fast that sometimes you wish you could stop time.

"There's someone who'd like to meet you, sweet boy," you explain, and you can recognise your mother's inflection in your own voice. Sweet boy. Rhaegar looks at you with big, round, questioning eyes, and you wonder if he senses your anxiety, because he takes your hand between his tiny fingers.

"Who, muña ?" he babbles, striding down the cobbled path in the middle of the gardens, hopping on his clumsy little legs, and you smile at his carefree attitude. He stops to watch the bees foraging, bends down to pick up a flower and gives it to you. He's always so curious, so full of life. He's a ray of sunshine that brightens your dull days. You finally understand your mother, the agonising fear she has of losing you. You finally understand the horror she experienced when she lost her four other children.

You also finally understand why Helena threw herself from Maegor's Holdfast.

The thought of what Daemon did still revolts you, and you can't imagine anyone hurting your boy like that.

You turn around. Rhaenyra is still there, in the distance, her crown on her head, her hands crossed in front of her on the heavy fabric of her dress, watching over you. She won't move, a comforting, discreet presence.

A stone bench awaits you by the fountain, on which two cushions have been arranged. A dessert buffet has been set up under the gazebo and you immediately spot your favourite cakes, the strawberry one, the blackberry jam one, and you look down at your son. He hasn't noticed them yet, or he would have already run over, dipped his finger in the whipped cream and stolen a blueberry from one of the tarts, his innocent expression on his face. 

He is definitely a lot like you. Mischievous and clever. An angelic air. He is an easy-going child who never throws a tantrum.

Who understands quickly, too. 

"I love you. I love you more than anything, you know that, don't you, young boy?" your tone is soft, and you kneel down in front of him, your hands on his small shoulders to emphasise the seriousness of your discussion. You search for your words, hesitating. How do you tell a three-year-old that his father, his dead father, is back from the dead and about to meet him?

Of course, Rhaegar knows that his birthfather was valiant, that his birthfather rode the greatest dragon in the world, that his birthfather died in battle.

But there is so much he doesn't know, so much he will inevitably learn as he grows up, and it is precisely that future that frightens you. You hug him as if you're afraid of losing him.

"Princess."

The deep voice of your sworn protector echoes behind you, and you straighten your skirt. 

You know he is there. 

You know you will see him the moment you turn around.

Your heartbeat quickens.

Aemond Targaryen stands behind your sworn protector, surrounded by two guards. His hands are bound in front of him. 

It is so strange to see your uncle in this vulnerable position. He who for so long has been on the other side, he who for so long has been the one who bent others to his will. He looks at you harshly, and you almost feel the need to apologise.

But you know it is a matter of caution.

You know that Daemon, you know that Jace and even your mother would never have agreed to bring him in if such precautions hadn't been taken.

You admire his resilience, his determination. You admire his ability to hold his head high, to be confident, despite the fact that he is being treated like a common prisoner, about to be sentenced to death.

You struggle to swallow the lump that has formed in your throat. 

"Who's that, muña?" Aemond's eyes leave you and immediately drop to the small figure that has appeared beside you, reaching for your hand, huddling against your leg, shy and worried. 

Immediately, your husband's icy gaze, his lilac-coloured eyes, soften.

"Thank you, Sir Rowan. You may leave us."

Despite the worry on his face, your sworn protector nods, unties his prisoner's hands and walks back to your mother, accompanied by the other two guards. You watch them leave, and a strange silence fills the space between you and your uncle.

He doesn't look at you; his eyes are riveted to your son, whom he observes with wonder. He looks as if he is admiring the most beautiful and fascinating discovery he has ever seen. You look down to see Rhaegar's reaction, and he seems as intimidated as he is hypnotised by that gaze, by that blue and purple eye so similar to his owns, by this man looking at him as if he were one of the most marvellous things in the world. 

"Gods, he's perfect," Aemond murmurs as he looks up at you, emerging from his trance. He comes closer to embrace you. And for once, there is something other than his usual brutal possessiveness and ferocity when his arms close around you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

Aemond is shy at first. Awkward. 

He's shy and amazed as he follows your son's every move with his good eye. From time to time, his gaze rests on you, as if to make sure he's not dreaming. As if to make sure he is doing right, seeking your approval.

Rhaegar is shy too, at first.

When he sits on your lap, he snuggles up to you, buries his face in your neck, one of your locks curled in his chubby little hand and he rubs it against his nose. From time to time, he turns to give his father a curious look, recognising his own eyes in the unfamiliar face before him. 

Aemond's expression grows gentler, a softness never seen in his features before.

Once he has tamed the stranger, the little boy pecks at the blueberries in the tart in front of him. He shakes his legs, hitting your knees in painful little jabs, and your arm wraps around his body to hold him down.

Rhaegar loves cake, and the sugar may be coaxing him, for he's regaining his appetite for talking.

"He really does have my eyes," Aemond whispers incredulously, and his voice, still foreign to his son's ears, causes the little boy to lift his head.

" It is definitely the only thing he has inherited from you," you reply, teasing him with a small smile at the corner of your lips.

Soon Rhaegar finishes the blueberry tart, the cream smeared over the bottom of his face and the tip of his nose.

"He inherited that from you, that is certain." Aemond grins, pointing with his long chin at the boy's voracious appetite for cakes and pastries.

You have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. That your husband is really standing in front of you, with your son, like a normal family. 

That he was truly trying to tell a joke.

This form of domesticity is so alien to your relationship, and yet so pleasant, that you find yourself thinking that perhaps you have made the right decision, indeed, if every day can be like this. 

"Your muña deserves some cake too, what do you say, little one?"

Rhaegar giggles. Aemond cuts a slice of your favourite cake, the one with the strawberries, and puts it on your plate. 

You blush. After all these years, he hasn't forgotten which one is your favourite.

You can't even really whisper a thank you because this apparent domesticity, this feeling of completeness, this interlude of happiness makes you uneasy. Anxious.

You have the feeling that at any moment you'll be plunged back into the horror of what you went through all those years ago. 

You have the feeling that at any moment the Gods will be cruel and snatch away this happiness that you've barely been able to taste, leaving only the memory of its sweet taste on your lips.

You breathe in and out, as you often do when you feel your palpitations rising in your chest.

"Do you... do you want to take him on your lap?" you ask your uncle with shyness, your hand stroking Rhaegar's thick brown curls. Aemond looks at you as if you have spoken in a foreign language. Lips parted, he is about to say something, but not a sound escapes his lips. His lonely eye travels from you to your son, from your son to you, in silence.

"I don't know if -"

You can hear the doubt in his voice, and it's almost touching to see him lose his confidence in front of his own son, to see him so nervous and unsure of himself.

You let out a little laugh, not in mockery, obviously, just full of tenderness.

You know what he's thinking.

He's afraid of frightening him.

He's afraid of harming him.

"You won't hurt him, Aemond."

He answers nothing. He still doesn't like to look vulnerable, unsure, and you know it has to do with his childhood. With all he has kept bottled up inside him all these years. He will need time.

Your eyes fall back to the little boy sitting in your lap, and you draw his attention to yourself by stroking the curls on his forehead.

"Do you want to go to Aemond for a while? To kepus?" 

you correct yourself immediately, and Rhaegar nods in agreement.

You are amazed at how easily he slips off your legs to run to his father, to pull himself onto his lap, when only a few hours ago he was so intimidated by the presence of this stranger with the eyepatch.

Your uncle automatically puts his arm around his waist to make him feel comfortable, his new role taking root in him. His fingers reach for the cloth on the table, and he wipes Rhaegar's face, who can't help but burst out laughing at his father's clumsy gestures.

For a split second you are lost in contemplating the horizon, the stillness of the sea. You taste the sea breeze on your face.

And then you turn your head towards the cobbled path where the guards and your sworn protector are still stationed. 

Your mother is no longer there, and you notice that you have not at any time felt the need to seek comfort in her presence. 

You smile, for in the end you know you've made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

Dragonstone, 6 months later.

When you walk the corridors of the place that saw you grow up, you are no longer haunted by the ghosts and their incessant cries. A kind of peace has settled over you, a return to the pleasant familiarity you've waited so long for.

You still think of Luke, of course. Of Luke and Joff and little Aegon and Viserys, your brothers you will never see grow old. 

But you no longer feel their disapproving glances at every step you take. You are no longer kept awake by their cries, by their tears, by the remorse that twists your stomach. 

You no longer blame yourself. 

Perhaps you've finally learnt to make peace with yourself.

The heavy door of the bedroom you share with Aemond is half open, and you slip your head into the doorway, piqued by curiosity.

Snuggled on your husband's lap, Rhaegar is staring at the pages of a large book, the corners of which you can guess are horned, the cover worn, from being carried everywhere. You can imagine the jam stains that mark the paper with children's fingerprints. You know exactly which page is missing, the one you and Aemond accidentally tore out and hid so the Septa wouldn't notice, so many years ago. 

It is a book about dragons, the very one the two of you used to read hidden under the table when you were so young and innocent, long before the torment of war.

Without a sound, you lean against the doorframe and contemplate for a moment the perfect vision before you.

You don't have the cruelty to disturb them.

 "This one is Vhaegar!" shouts Rhaegar, and you hold your breath, searching Aemond's face for any hint that might betray his reaction. The mention of his former dragon is still a sensitive subject for him, you know it.

"Yes, that's Vhagar." he pauses. "She was brave."

From the corner of his eye, Aemond spots your silhouette in the faint glow of the corridor, and his attention lingers on you for a moment. He's almost embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable, intimate moment, but you smile tenderly to encourage him.

"And big!" the little boy adds, energetically raising his arms to the sky to emphasise his words.

"Yes, and big." There's a suspended moment of silence where the words hang in the air, and then your husband gently ruffles his son's hair. It's a tender sight to see them bond like this, and your heart fills with happiness.

Taking a step forward, you step into the light of the room and Rhaegar expresses his joy at seeing you. You smile back at him and approach the chair where Aemond sits, your son on his lap.

Your uncle's hand instantly rests on the curve of your belly, which he still stares at with the same protective instinct, the same fascination, as the day you told him the news. His eyes sparkle.

"Your daughter is restless today."

He looks up at you, not without lingering for a moment on your breasts and their new shape.

"My daughter?" he asks, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"I'm convinced it's a girl. You reply, smiling wryly, and take a seat in the armchair next to the one where Aemond and your son are sitting, facing the fireplace. "And she took after her father, given her temper," you tease him, your hand on the top of your rounded belly to soothe the baby growing there. 

Rhaegar's eyes close slowly. Nestled against the chest of the man who, just a few months ago, was still a stranger, he fights sleep, he fights to stay awake, but tiredness quickly overcomes him. And then he falls asleep, his mouth half open, the movements of his breath making his chest rise and fall rhythmically.

Aemond finally gets up. You follow his movements with your eyes as he approaches you, the child in his arms, and he plants a kiss on the top of his head.

"I'm going to put him to bed. I'll be right back." He straightens and lowers his voice.

"I wouldn't fail in my duty and neglect my wife." The heat rises to your cheeks, turning them red at the implication of what awaits you tonight. You're already wet between your thighs at the thought. 

But you nod in agreement and watch him walk away. 

You are left alone in the silence of the room. The only sound around you is the steady crackling of the fire.

It's strange, you think, to be back on Dragonstone, in the familiarity of the stones you've spent most of your life between, after getting used to the idea of not surviving the war.

To the idea of dying from a broken heart.

To the idea of dying, the umpteenth victim of the vicious spiral of conflict that has torn your family apart.

And yet here you are.

With your own family.

For once you have hope for the future. You hear the cries of your little brother, lost in the storm so long ago, but they are quickly replaced by the laughter of a happy memory. 

And finally, you have the absolute confirmation that you have made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** ***

Thank you so much for reading!! <3

Tag list : @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis (I'm tagging you since you asked for it ❤️)

[walpu]

I'm coming at you with the speed of thousand asteroids affectionately and hit you with a "your writing is awesome!"

Also, may I request an Aventurine x The Nameless!reader.

Thank you very much and have a nice day :D

Thank you so much for your kind words and for the request, it was so fun to write <З

Hope you'll enjoy it, have a good day as well 💛

Aventurine x The Nameless!reader

characters - Aventurine

notes - gn!reader, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort. Once again, no beta. I'm so sorry.

Aventurine

Considering that the Astral Family and it's members are pretty well-known (everyone seems to know at least their names) he has probably heard something about you even before you first met him.

I can imagine your first meeting going like this: he casually approaches you, acting all buddy-buddy, and says something like "ah, mx , who knew I would meet you here of all places <З".

If your first meeting was during the Penacony quest get ready for him calling you "friend" in this sassy voice of his 💀 Yes Aven we all get it you don't have any actual friends calm down

Can imagine him trying to get closer to you by painting your potential partnership as something mutually beneficial. You could use a friend from the IPC, right? And he wouldn't mind having some connections with a "brave and honorable" Nameless. So why don't you join him for a glass of wine, hmmm?

When the two of you will eventually get closer this mf will get clingy af. Yeah I've mentioned it already in my previous post but you being one of the Nameless opens up so many new perspectives.

Visits you on the Express regularly. If he comes when you're not here, he'll wait for as long as he can for you to come back. Sadly, Aventurine is a busy, busy man. So he can't wait for long. Will leave small notes for you tho, to let you know that he was there but you didn't grace him with your presence

If you come back when he's waiting, Aven will play it off as if he himself just got there and didn't have to wait for you at all, saying somethin like "Oh look, here you're! And here I thought I would have to wait for you, haha. Seems like luck is on my side today~"

He doesn't want you to worry, after all. Also. He wants to save some face. Pom-Pom will rat him out anyway.

Speaking of Pom-Pom, they're probably sick of him at this point lol.

Would ask you about your adventures and listen very closely to every story you may want to tell. He can't help but smile softly while listening to you, he just loves seeing the passion in your eyes. Doesn't matter if the story is about you dragging the Trailblazer away from the trash cans in Belobog (or worse - admiring the trash cans with them), he will still look at you with the same adoring smile.

If you ask him what he's been up to during the time you where gone, Aven would simply laugh it off and say that his boring IPC stuff cannot compare with your bizarre adventures so it doesn't even worth mentioning. Reassure him that you don't care if it's boring, you just want to hear about his day regardless of how it went.

Sometimes he can't help but feel jealous. You're free to travel, to do whatever you want. You have this sparkle of excitement in your eyes every time you tell him about your travels. And he has nothing of it. Simply can't have.

He doesn't have any negative feelings towards you, of course. Mostly some bottled up bitterness toward his fate and himself.

He gets a bit lost in his own head every time he starts feeling this way. Please take his hand and invite him to join you during your next adventure. He will laugh softly and tell you "maybe next time, darling". Even if he doesn't know when this "next time" will come the thought of it, of you wanting to share your precious moment with him, fills him with hope.

Adores when you bring him small gifts from the places you've been. It doesn't have to be something big, really. Just the thought that you were thinking of him when the two of you were apart is enough.

Don't forget to send him pictures of yourself!!!! He wants to know how his dearest darling is doing even when they are freezing their ass off in Belobog.

Would sometimes surprise you by showing up on the planet/space ship you're currently staying on. Aventurine rarely can't stay for a long but he cherishes those short moments when he can just walk around and do nothing in particular with you.

Usually when he visits a planet it has something to do with the IPC's business so he only has time to do his job and. Well. Gamble. Maybe buy some new clothes too if he has enough time.

But with you he can actually explore the planet. You bring him to the local restaurants, small tea shops, seemingly small and insignificant places. But it’s places like these that reveal the real beauty of the planet. He slowly learns to appreciate it when you're by his side.

[elainarcheronweek]

Welcome to Elain Archeron Appreciation Week, 2024!

We are so excited to be back for another year and cannot wait to celebrate our favourite flower fairy!

First off, a little housekeeping. We will announce the week on our old (now main) blog to be safe, but for ease of managing the event we have created a new space. We're sorry for the run around, and suggest following this new blog going forward.

Please tag this account - @elainarcheronweek - when posting your art, fics and theories etc so that we don't miss anything.

We are also on Instagram and Twitter.

This week is for every fan of Elain Archeron to foster positivity about her character; we ask that everyone remain kind while participating.

The Prompts

Art: @ barbygoodface commissioned by @ stephdaydreams

🌸 Day 1: Visions

We know Elain was gifted tremendous powers by the Cauldron. Today, let's dive into her Seer powers and how she has utilised her gifts this far, or how they might manifest even more in the future.

Art: @ isis_villalobos_art commissioned by @ purpleunicornc_ & @ oceanfairym

🌸 Day 2: Hope

Today is all about hopes- both Elain's and our own. We know that Elain looked at their old cottage with hope. What other ways has Elain shown her hopefulness? Or what do you maybe hope for in Elain's future story?

Art: @ shim0rin commissioned by @ oceanfairym

🌸 Day 3: Strength

Elain may be soft, but she isn't a pushover. From killing the King of Hybern to "I hope they all burn in hell," Elain has proven she can more than hold her own. Today is the day to showcase her too-often- overlooked strength.

Art: @ andie_owo commissioned by @ separatist.apologist

🌸 Day 4: Home

What is 'home?' Is it a place? A person? A feeling? Today's the day to think about Elain's home. Use this prompt to explore her domestic side, or perhaps showcase what person, place, or things you think would make her feel most at home.

Art: @ btzart_ commissioned by @ steelprincesss @ helareads_ @ lunepapillons_ & @ wacky_abdalla

🌸 Day 5: Connections

Elain is known for her kindness and care toward her family and friends. Today, we explore the various connections she has built, whether it be with friends, family, or potential romantic partners.

Art: @ sollillium commissioned by @ lunepapillons_

🌸 Day 6: Passions

For this prompt, let's celebrate what Elain is passionate about. This prompt may include her hobbies like gardening and baking, or maybe other pastimes you might imagine she'd enjoy.

Art: @ goldenmushroom_ commissioned by @ emilysbookishtales

🌸 Day 7: Growth

Today is all about Elain's growth. Maybe you want to focus on what she's grown in her garden or how she's grown as a character so far. Or, you might use today as a free day, to imagine all the ways she could grow in the future.

Art: @ artbysanse commissioned by @ lazydaisyreads

[sundrop-writes]

Better Than Sleeping

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary:

You and Jason are friends with benefits. Though you have come to realize that the relationship doesn’t always ‘benefit’ you when he ends up annoying you after a long, tiring day of training.

(He quickly makes you come to see that his annoying persistence can benefit you, even if you would never admit it aloud.)

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during Season 2.

Word Count: 5,300

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Warning: This fic contains Dubious Consent. One character ‘wears down’ the other and ‘convinces them’ to have sex, and both of them display verbal consent that goes against their true actions and desires (they say no to having sex when they do truly want to) and they think of convincing the other person to agree as a kind of ‘game’. It is a relationship that is playful in nature, and this consent is based on bodily queues, facial expressions, and knowing a person’s safety and comfort based on being in a relationship with them for a period of time. If this makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read the fic.

List of detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: friends with benefits, this is primarily a smut fic, the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive (once the sex begins), the reader could be considered a brat, Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (it is a canon event), Jason calls the reader ‘baby’, Jason calls the reader ‘good girl’, dubious consent - coercion (please see the above for an explanation about this), mentions of masturbation (watching someone masturbate), mentions of fucking someone to sleep/fucking someone while they are asleep, mentions of free use kink, mentions of cumming inside someone/unprotected sex, marking/biting, groping/touching through underwear (reader receiving), orgasm denial (toward the reader), ‘just the tip’,teasing, there is a point where Jason’s dick is inside her without a condom but he doesn’t cum, and he puts on a condom before fully penetrating (what would you call that?), begging, slight mentions of subspace (but it’s more so described as a lustful drunkness), there is implications toward the end of fucking someone to sleep/fucking someone while they are asleep with their permission. I believe that is everything.

A/N: This is definitely one of my favourite things I have written. I thought maybe I was going to edit it some before re-posting it, but I was rereading it the other day and I actually realized that it's really good the way it is, so here you go - some random cocky Jason smut, inspired by the 'just the tip' trope. I hope you enjoy!

...

You knew that becoming a Titan was never going to be easy. 

But fuck, this was a lot harder than you imagined it would be. Dick Grayson was quickly becoming your least favorite person. Between the 5am wake up calls and the endless workout routines, paired with the bland ‘nutrient filled’ meal plans he had everyone on to ‘fuel your bodies’ for training - he was becoming a menial drill sergeant that you couldn’t get away from. One of the only things that made it better was the fact that you had friends around - the ability to joke about him with Rachel, Gar, and Jason behind his back. Was it a bit mean-spirited? Yes. Did you feel less guilty about it whenever he added more onto the training routine? Also yes. 

You had no clue when these skills you were working so hard on were ever going to come into play. Every single night, Dick retired himself into the comms room full of computers to ‘monitor the city for threats’ - but he seemingly never found anything worthy of the team’s attention. At least not yet. So you went about the routine of training hard, becoming exhausted, falling into bed to sleep and then doing it all over again. 

Oh - and there was the other thing. The not so occasional part of your routine where Jason fucked your brains out. The fact that the two of you had developed a mutually beneficial relationship to help ‘relieve’ each other when you were horny, a quintessential friends with benefits situation. But with your muscles sore from training and your entire body so exhausted, that was the farthest thing from your mind on this night. 

After a long, hard day of training, the last thing you wanted to hear was a knock on your bedroom door. You hoped that it was simply Gar asking to borrow some of your body wash again (because he liked the smell), or Rachel asking you to kill a spider in her room, and not Dick alerting you to some surprise training drill that he had suddenly thought up. 

You shoved your pajama top over your head, finishing getting changed for the night, and rushed across the room to the door. When you opened it, you barely had time to gauge if you were pleased or displeased at seeing Jason before he spoke. 

“I’m horny.” He announced abruptly, being very abrupt about delivering his feelings. 

But it was in character for him, and didn’t surprise you in the least. 

You hated that your stomach jolted at his words, even if just out of Pavlovian habit. It had been only two days since the last time he had fucked you. He had caught you in the shower in the morning, snuck into the bathroom with a condom between his teeth and opened the shower door to join you while you were distracted meditatively washing your hair. It had been steamy, soapy, slippery, and goddamn wonderful. 

But it had left you sore and stiff before training, and you were wondering how much give and take there was - if you truly needed his cock. 

“Hello to you too.” You said, your tone just as dead tired as you felt. 

You wouldn’t admit that you were a bit horny too. You were tired, and you wanted to go to sleep. So that made you annoyed with his presence. (It should have made you more annoyed than you were.) 

Jason bit his lip, raking his eyes up and down your body with an intense heat lurking there. You glared back at him. 

Jason was intensely attractive. He was a good looking guy, that was just a fact. And while you did enjoy the way he was looking at you, staring you down like you were a porn star when you were slumped with exhaustion, wearing baggy old pjs with mascara smeared on your face with sweat, your hair a mess from the day - there was barely a spark stirred in your stomach at the idea of fucking him right now. You were just too damn tired. Dick had been running you all into the ground, instituting the same training that Batman had given him, and it was fucking exhausting. 

“So - can I come in?” Jason asked. 

He gave you a very expectant curl of his lips and tilted his head toward you when you didn’t say anything for a few seconds. You just stood there and stared at him bitterly. 

You sighed hard through your nose, not wanting to answer the question. 

Fucking him might be nice. A good orgasm before bed. But you needed to put what little energy you had left into your nightly routine and then get a good, long sleep before Dick woke everyone up at ass o’clock again. 

“No.” You finally told him. “I’m going to bed.” 

You turned and walked back into your room, but left the door open. You hoped that he would get the hint to leave on his own. You grabbed your bottle of makeup remover and a cotton pad and began taking off your makeup. 

You weren’t so lucky. 

“I’ll go to bed with you, babe.” He announced proudly. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. 

He then came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You felt the half hardness of his cock pressing into your ass as you wiped away your makeup with stern hands. You tried your hardest not to let him wear you down, even as you felt a tingle between your thighs. He was used to training this hard, so it wasn’t as exhausting for him. Clearly, he didn’t understand how tired you were - how badly you needed the rest. 

“Go get in your own bed.” You barked, your tone becoming more strained. 

As you leaned closer to the mirror to inspect your face, to make sure that you had gotten all the tiny specs of makeup off, you unintentionally arched your back, pushing your ass much closer to his crotch. Jason let out a quiet moan and you caught him smirking at you in the reflection of the mirror. 

He leaned in close, draping his warm body entirely over your back, trapping you there as he put one hand on the dresser and the other on the wall and leaned his body weight on you. You could have shoved him off you if you wanted to - but as you felt a tingling heat creeping up your back, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to. 

“Come on, babe.” He sighed into your neck. 

His hot breath on such a sensitive place caused a shiver through you that you would deny. 

“Why are you being like this? You know if you want a good sleep, getting fucked nice and hard is the best way to get it.” He told you, so entirely cocky. “My cock will put you right to bed, baby.” 

The words sent a hard jolt of electricity through you, settling a hard heat through you from your gut all the way to your face, burning uncomfortably through your skin. Combined with the way he ground his increasing hardness against your ass, you were forced to suppress a whimper. 

It made you even more annoyed with him - the fact he could play your body like an instrument he had finely tuned. And you reacted with that intense annoyance. 

“Why can’t you just masturbate like a normal person?” You scoffed at him, entirely firm, not giving away an ounce of weakness in your voice. 

“As if.” He held intense disgust in his voice at the very idea. 

He gave another firm dig of his hips, causing you to be pressed into the sharp edge of the dresser - a small twinge of pain that only added to the heat growing in your stomach. 

“Why the fuck would I resort to touching myself when I have the sweetest pussy ever to fuck right down the hall?” Jason explained. “But ya know, if you want to watch me jack off, that can be arranged.” 

Instead of responding to that, you just rolled your eyes. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice that subtle shift of lust in your features that said this was definitely a new fantasy of yours because he had brought it up. 

“You can’t deny that you need it too.” Jason whispered into your ear. 

“I need sleep.” You grunted in return. 

You then shucked out of his hold, using one of the evasive maneuvers that Dick had taught you in training, ducking under Jason’s arm when he wasn’t expecting it. Before he could blink, you were across the hall and in the bathroom. It was mostly because you knew that if you stood there any longer with his warm body pressed against your back, you would have given in far too easily. 

Naturally, Jason followed you. 

He stuck by your side through your entire night time routine, trying to wear you down. You weighed the pros and cons in your head without truly listening to him as the exhaustion seeped into your bones and battled with the lust growing inside of you. 

Jason brushed his teeth standing next to you in front of the sink while you brushed yours, all the while mumbling excuses through his toothpaste about how the sex would be good aerobic exercise to help with your training. By the time you got to doing your skincare, you ended up putting a face wash and moisturizer on him just to mentally drown out whatever he was saying - something about orgasms and endorphins and how it helps mental health. 

As you pulled back the covers to finally settle in, he snuck his way into your bed under the guise of ‘just cuddling’. Though you weren’t anywhere near convinced of that sentiment, you didn’t kick him out of the room or protect. You were surprised, but grateful when he took off his shirt, laid down, and seemed to finally shut up. You weren’t sure which you were more grateful for - the quiet or the stunning eye candy of his tight body on full display. But you didn’t question the fact that he had finally stopped nagging you. 

You crawled into bed beside him and settled into his arms. You gave him a kiss on the cheek as a goodnight (knowing that if you kissed him on the mouth, it would turn into something more heated). It was only about two minutes after you shut off your bedside lamp, shrouding the room in darkness, that the talking began again. 

“You could sleep through it.” He noted quietly. 

You sighed with deep annoyance. 

“If you want to. I could be gentle about it.” 

His voice continued on from behind you as he spooned you, one arm under your head underneath the pillow and the other laid almost possessively around your waist. 

Of course, he didn’t even have to be too descriptive for you to know what ‘it’ was. 

The idea of him gently fucking you while you fell into a lazy sleep was entirely too appealing. But he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to win. Especially not after you had put so much of your very little remaining energy into deterring him all night. 

“Go to sleep.” You told him with a huff, shoving your head further into the pillow. 

He simply chuckled. 

You hoped that if you just ignored him, he would shut up and go to sleep. 

You would never admit to him that heat bloomed in your stomach at the idea of Jason crawling into your bed when you were already in a deep sleep, using you for his own selfish pleasure and leaving you sore and full of cum to wake up to in the morning. 

“Hmm… no.” He replied, as easily as a petulant child, his breath fanning out over your neck once again. 

Your heated thoughts easily blossomed into a moan from your lips when he latched onto your neck without warning. He picked a particularly tender spot, sucking hard with teeth and the fullness of his lips, easily knocking the wind out of you. You shoved your heated face tightly into your pillow, praying that he wouldn’t notice your reaction. That he wouldn’t realize he so blatantly had you like putty in his hands. If he knew that, he would know that he could just take whatever he wanted and you wouldn’t protest. Not in the slightest. 

Jason already knew that. But he wasn’t just going to pull down your shorts and slam his cock into you. As much fun as that would be - he wasn’t barbaric. Plus - now that he had one of your sweet little sounds in his ears, he wanted more. He wanted to hear you beg for it after denying him for so long. 

He moved his arm from being so tightly around your waist, and pushed your shirt up. You tried your best to put up a wall of indifference toward this. He began skimming his touch oh so lightly along the roundness of your stomach, right above the band of your shorts. You knew he felt the shiver that ran through you, but you refused to say anything. You weren’t pretending to be asleep at this point, but it was a game to the two of you. You still refused to give in. 

But he was playing to win. 

He shoved his hand into the waistband of your shorts, touching you outside the fabric of your underwear. His skin felt like he could have burned you, even through the fabric. You had to make a conscious effort not to buck forward into the touch. When his fingers skimmed across your hotly beating clit (when had you gotten so turned on?) you swallowed another whimper and steadied your voice. 

“Jason.” You said his name firmly, like a warning bell. “If you don’t behave yourself, I’m gonna kick you out.” 

“I don’t think you will.” He whispered into your neck, defiantly cocky once again. 

He sucked another hard, hot mark onto your skin as he cupped your pussy whole in his palm and began grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. 

You let out a wobbling moan and your body thrashed, your energy so depleted that you could no longer hold back your body’s natural reactions to him. You were met with the hard wall of his body behind you, so firm and perfectly hot as he pressed himself tighter into you. 

He gave a satisfied grin into your skin and only doubled down, putting more pressure on your throbbing clit and causing hot waves from that point, adding to the rolling boil that raged under your skin. 

With the beautifully firm pressure and Jason’s talent, the way he knew your body so well, you could have come from this alone. Especially as the pleasure throbbed through your core, your underwear became more soaked through and it was all so beautifully smooth and wet. 

Jason began grinding his cock - still trapped inside a pair of sweats - against the back of your thigh. He groaned into your neck when he felt a pleasurable tingling of his own spreading through his gut, though he craved to be inside of you. As much as he was enjoying this - the sweet, needy sounds falling from your lips, the way your thighs clamped around his wrist, as though desperately trying to keep him in place while your hips humped against his hand like a bitch in heat - he knew that he needed more. 

And he was going to make you beg for it. 

When he felt the signature twitch of your legs that said you were about to cum, he stopped. He held his hand completely still, his strong arm easily pinning your hips down to the bed to prevent you from humping against him and simply taking what you needed. In that moment, he even curled two of his fingers up to shove the fabric of your underwear inside of you slightly, creating a sharp sting that reminded you just how empty you were feeling. 

“Jay-!” You let out his name in a petulant whine, about to scold him for the ruined orgasm, but he cut you off. 

“You gonna ask me nicely now?” He rumbled into your ear. “Admit you were wrong?” 

You wanted to bark out ‘either make me cum, or go to your own damn bed’ - but you knew that Jason was just as petty as you were. At that point, he would have gotten up and left for his own bed just to prove a point. 

“You’re keeping me awake right now.” You huffed out, trying your best to sound annoyed. (Which wasn’t too difficult, considering how badly the ruined orgasm had frustrated you.) “My point still stands.” 

Of course, sleeping was the farthest thing from your mind now. The sexual frustration had injected a new wave of energy through you, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to rest until you were truly satisfied. 

Unfortunately, Jason knew that too. 

“Okay.” Jason sighed quietly, giving a click of his tongue. 

He then completely pulled his hand out of your shorts and pulled away from your body. It seemed like he was moving to get out of the bed - you worried you had accidentally triggered that signature pettiness in him. 

But as usual, Jason Todd surprised you. 

You bit your lip to hold back a cheer when he reached for the waistband of your shorts and underwear pulled them down all at once, exposing your hot, soaked cunt to the cool air of the room. (At some point, the blanket had been accidentally shoved off you.) You took a glance over your shoulder and of course, he was shoving his pants down to his knees. You caught a glimpse of his long, thick, hard cock bobbing out of the fabric in the darkness. But you didn’t dare to spend too much time admiring it, for fear of making him too cocky. 

You relaxed against your pillow in satisfaction, waiting for Jason to grab a condom out of the bedside table’s drawer so that he could literally fuck you to sleep. 

You were surprised when he scooted back toward you, pressing himself right up against your back once more. He proceeded to simply press his hips against yours - his cock laid flat against the bare folds of your leaking pussy, immediately becoming slick with your wetness. But be made no moves to grab a condom or even tease you by pushing inside of you raw. 

(Which - yes, the two of you had agreed to always use condoms, but it was secretly a fantasy of yours that he would go against the rule because of his overbearing need to feel you raw - or even the need to cum inside of you). 

But instead of doing any of that, Jason seemed to be settling in to relax. 

Jason draped himself across your back, wrapped his arm around your waist again, and gently laid his head on your shoulder. But he made no effort to move, or fuck you. Your pussy throbbed with need, feeling the hot, hard length pressed against you, entirely unmoving. When you clenched around nothing, you let out a wave of slick that you knew he could feel right on his cock. You felt a groan catch inside his chest, but still, he didn’t move. 

“Jason.” You breathed out, having to question him after a few more moments of silence and stillness. “What are you doing?” 

“Going to sleep.” He answered, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought you wanted me to just shut up and leave you alone so that you could get some rest?” 

That. Little. Shit.

You resisted the urge to elbow him in the face. 

Obviously, being so close to you, he felt your entire body tense up with anger and annoyance. He was only able to partially hold back his satisfactory laughter. When the quiet snickers met your ears, you became even more annoyed. 

“Jason.” You scolded him gruffly. 

“Oh? I’m sorry,” He said, entirely sarcastic. “Did you want something?” 

“Did you want something?” You parroted back, mocking his words in a childish voice. 

Essentially, you had no more clever comebacks left. He had won. 

“I guess I can give you something for your troubles, babe.” Jason sighed, as though it were a grand inconvenience to him. “Maybe just the tip, though.” 

“Just the tip.” You sighed, finding yourself repeating his words once again. Though this time your voice was dead and sarcastic rather than mocking - mostly because you didn’t believe him. 

You knew that in Jason land, ‘just the tip’ meant slamming his entire cock into you after the tip lingered in your entrance for a moment. You clenched down on nothing again at the thought. 

Once again, you were expecting him to grab a condom so he could fuck you freely without worry. You were surprised when he peeled his body away from you slightly and reached down to grab his cock. After a moment of rubbing the fat cockhead along your folds to get it nice and wet, he did as promised and pushed the tip inside. 

It was the first time he had ever been inside of you without the barrier of a condom, and feeling his hot, raw skin touching yours - even just a little bit, made you gasp. 

“Jason!” 

Your voice was whiny even to your own ears, so needy for him after so much teasing. Upon instinct, feeling that painfully empty ache coming from deep inside you, you arched your back and attempted to shove your hips toward him - attempted to pull more of his thickness inside of you. But Jason was quicker, and he had his hands on both your hips, shoving you down onto the bed so hard and fast that the tip of his cock fell out of you with a wet pop. 

It was a sound that made heat beat through your cheeks, and the feeling of his wet cockhead brushing against the backs of your thighs took your breath away. 

“Oops.” He chuckled, and moved to slot himself back into position.

You had no clue why it was so dizzyingly hot. 

But this time he held you down firmly so you couldn’t simply fuck yourself back onto his cock. You moaned as the thickness of the cockhead popped back inside of you - you yearned for more, but he stayed still. 

After a moment, he began to move his hips so slightly, feeding no more than an inch of his cock into your throbbing cunt before pulling it back out. It was an entirely careful movement on his part where he fed you the first inch, and didn’t let the tip pop out again, in pathetically shallow thrusts that could barely be called sex. Your pussy ached, tingled, yearned for more. 

You mentally cursed Batman for teaching him such good self discipline and him using it for this.

“Jason.” You whined, trying fruitlessly to fight against the firm grip he had on your hips in order to fuck yourself on his cock. 

“What, babe?” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss a line across your shoulder. 

“You know what.” You replied, your tone even more frustrated and whiny. 

You wiggled your hips desperately, trying to get more of him inside of you. You yearned to feel the perfect ache of his thick cock splitting you open, hitting all of those perfect spots so deep inside of you. 

“No, I don’t.” He told you, his voice somehow steady and confident. “You’re gonna have to spell it out for me.” 

You couldn’t see it or feel it, but his hips were trembling and his abs were tight with the pure resistance of his self control. All of the energy he was using not to slam his cock into the tight, warm velvet of your cunt, especially as he felt it leak so freely around the tip of his cock, knowing how badly you needed him. He wanted nothing more than to watch you whine and babble and fall apart on his cock - but he wanted to win just a little bit more. 

There was a distinct pause. The last shreds of your own stubbornness hanging in the air, even as your cunt throbbed with need. 

Even if Jason couldn’t see your face from this angle, he could feel the warring in your body. He knew you too well. And he knew how to break you down so perfectly. 

“If you want anything more than this,” He told you, emphasizing the point with another pathetically shallow thrust. “If you want anything more than just the tip of my cock,” His voice was low and silken and creating even more heat that almost drowned you. “Then you’re gonna have to beg for it.” 

“Fuck you, Jay.” You whined out in protest, once again trying to fight his grip on your hips to fuck yourself against him. 

He viciously dug his fingers into the fat of your hips, causing a sharp sound from your throat at the beautiful pain. 

He leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of your neck, and growled out his next words in a low tone that dragged through your insides in the exact spot where his cock should have been. 

“Come on.” He urged you on. “Fucking. Beg.” 

That was when you broke. 

At least you hadn’t given in too easily. 

“Please,” You whined out breathlessly. “Please, fuck me! Fuck me, Jason! I need it.” 

“What else?” Jason asked expectantly. 

You could have killed him. But when your desperate cunt unconsciously clenched down on the fat head of his cock and you felt yourself growing only more hot and needy, you knew that there was only one thing to do. 

“I’m sorry, Jay, I should have - I should have just asked nicely in the first place. I do need it. I need your big cock inside of me so badly.” You poured it on thick, emphasizing the last words in the most pornographic voice you could muster, hoping that he was running low on self control as well. 

And he was. So he was very satisfied with this. He grinned into your skin, leaving a surprisingly tender kiss on the back of your neck before he mumbled out ‘good girl’ - something that made you moan out sharply. 

You let out a sharp noise of disappointment when his cock popped out of you again. 

“I need a condom.” He told you, giving you a reassuring pat on the ass. “As much as I’d love to cum inside you, we do have an agreement.” 

You weren’t sure which was hotter - his sex-thick voice admitting that he shared one of your deepest fantasies, or the fact that he was caring so deeply for you, making sure that he protected you with a condom even when you were in that floating headspace and willing to let him do just about anything do your body. 

Your mind was swimming contemplating it, and next thing you knew it, he had the condom on successfully. He then slammed his cock inside of you in one firm, smooth movement. Any thoughts were easily pounded out of your head by the practiced movement of his hips.

“Better now?” Jason grunted into your ear. 

You could practically feel his smugness radiating through his cock, spearing into you. 

But you were now alight with intense pleasure, warm satisfaction rolling through you - so you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care about how smug he was. Every bit of cockiness he had, he did back it up with a pretty big dick that he knew how to use well. Not that you would ever say those words aloud to him. Not even on your deathbed. 

“Just shut up and fuck me.” You ordered, though it was breathless and had no bite. 

“As you wish, babe.” He replied, and then doubled down - his hips fucking into you with an intense fury. 

You moaned like a whore at this, finally feeling that dizzying fullness that you had been craving since he had snuck his touch into your shorts. Jason drank up your sounds and easily wanted more - more of your perfect pussy squeezing around his cock, more of that wetness coating his inner thighs, more of that filthy wet smacking as he fucked into you. 

He leaned down, draping his body fully over yours once again, creating a pleasantly smothering weight on top of you as you laid on your stomach on the bed with your face nearly drowned in the pillow. He slowed the pace of his hips to a dangerous torture of a grind, fucking you so deeply now that you were sure you could feel him coming up inside of your throat. You let out a wounded noise, and he hushed you gently. 

“Shh, babe, I’ve got you.” He whispered into your ear. “Gonna make you feel so good.” 

He moved one of his hands from your hip and shoved it between your body and the bed, and once again he was cupping your mound fully in his hand - but this time there was no fabric barrier, and he was settled deep inside of you. It was filling your whole body with lava, turning every place he touched you to boiling ash. You were sure that you would have dissolved into nothingness if not for the anchor of your cunt hanging onto his cock, keeping you grounded in reality with that slight nip of pain as your muscles clenched onto him. 

“Now say thank you.” He told you, his voice so gruff in your ear, so thick with desire that it made you dizzy. “Thank me for giving you my cock.” 

He used two precise fingers to rub circles on your neglected clit, immediately sending shockwaves through your body that made your muscles jump and jolt. 

You gulped for air and struggled to move your face out of the fabric of the pillow, and Jason saw this. He moved his other hand and slid it under your cheek, gripping under your jaw to fully lift you up. 

He stilled his hips completely once again, causing a pained sound to emanate from your lungs as you clamped down on his cock deep inside of you while he continued to relentlessly work over your tender clit. He gave you a couple of seconds to catch your breath. But you were so cock dumb that you had to be reminded of the goal. 

“Come on, baby.” He encouraged you, pressing his lips to your cheek that he wasn’t holding onto. “Say ‘thank you’.” 

“Thank you.” You easily repeated back, now completely pliant to his desires. “Thank you for-for your cock.” 

“Good girl.” Jason praised you once again. 

Then he began fucking into you once more - it only took a few careful thrusts of his hips and the talent of his fingers on your clit to finally bring your orgasm to life. He shoved his tongue into your mouth as you screamed through it, imitating some sloppy version of a kiss while you flailed and creamed on his cock, your body becoming truly boneless and tired as the orgasm rocked you. 

When it was finished, he was still throbbing hard inside of you, and you let out a whine of disappointment. You were absolutely dead tired now, and you couldn’t even think of how much energy it would take to finish him off. Mister ‘Twice In A Sunday’ could last quite a long time, and that didn’t exactly work for you in that moment. 

“You can go to sleep now, babe.” He whispered into your ear. “I’ll clean you up when I’m done.” 

He began thrusting into you once more, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift closed. 

It ended up being a good night for both of you.

...

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[shima-draws]

Okay so a few things about the ending to the DLC. Spoilers below obviously

-Really REALLY disappointed they didn’t go with the whole toxic possession arc thing with Kieran and the new mythical (Pecharunt?) TO BE FAIR that was more of a fan theory than anything but it was one that made a lot of sense and had a lot of evidence to back it up. I guess I got too attached to the idea and was inevitably let down when the game didn’t go in that direction. Still it would have made more sense to give that extra edge as to why Kieran’s treating everyone so awfully,, and having him finally break free of that control during the final fight VS Terapagos would have been SO sick. Either that or before we even get to Terapagos Carmine calls Kieran out and that’s when he finally fucking explodes and rages and vents about his inferiority complex—and THAT is what summons Pecharunt, those negative feelings that it probably feeds off of or smth idk. Then we’d get a split second of Kieran finally being back in control and begging for help. And then Carmine realizing her brother has been under the influence of this Pokemon the entire time and. Okay I’m getting off track into AU territory now lmao sorry moving on

-Switching back to the Terapagos fight, I really enjoyed it! It wasn’t too long of a fight to be drawn out, but it was just long enough that it didn’t feel anticlimactic (also the MUSIC? STELLAR. Pun intended). ALSO ARGHFHH the five stages of grief Kieran goes through in that fight to finally accepting that he’s been going about this the wrong way and has been an awful friend and the way the LIGHT COMES BACK INTO HIS EYES I ALMOST CRIED. This is 10000x more emotional and powerful if you choose to bring Ogerpon with you and fight with her bc that really just. Hammers in the fact that despite all the bad blood and bitterness, Kieran still chooses to fight alongside you and the Pokemon he coveted so much…AND he even processes things enough to fully let go of all his hatred and anger and allows you to catch Terapagos because he KNOWS you’ll take good care of it and after all this time he still trusts you even though he’d probably hate to admit it. #GOOD WRITING

-Something really scary I realized. Kieran brought a Master Ball with him to catch Terapagos. 1. Where did homie even get that. 2. The fact that he was READY and didn’t even give Terapagos a chance to react, that he was essentially catching it against its will (which probably led to its power going out of control), that he was enforcing his own twisted desires and beliefs onto it and not considering its feelings (sound familiar? Looks at Ogerpon). BOY. 3. We’ve only ever seen ONE other person use Master Balls in SV. The AI Professor. I don’t know if this is significant in any way but if the Pecharunt theory WAS true that would make them so so similar and that’s eerie to me. Two characters controlled by something greater than them that they can’t fight…can you imagine how INSANE the dynamics would be listen to me

-Another thing I was kinda disappointed about was Briar? I guess I was just picking up on the vibes that she was actually a villain and would try to steal Terapagos from the player, but I probably gave Nintendo too much credit on that one lol. I do like that she’s not inherently evil, she’s just too absorbed and obsessed with her research to really pay attention to what’s going on around her. BUT. They should have pushed that WAY further. Either commit and do the full villain arc where she snatches Terapagos from Kieran right after he catches it to use it for her own purposes, or pressure him into Terastallizing it so much that it makes him uncomfortable. I want to see Lusamine levels of unhinged obsession. What she had was just a little bit too excited about Area Zero, not a full blown unhealthy and dangerous thing that puts everyone around her in danger.

-Following up on that. Drayton. I kept expecting him to also go villain arc IDK LOL I guess I want everyone to be gay do crime in this DLC 😂 But I seriously kept thinking he was just using the player to knock Kieran off his throne so he could take it right back from us. But no he actually genuinely cared about Kieran and kept pressuring us to beat the Elite Four so WE could knock some sense into him since Drayton wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. Which is a very sweet sentiment, I think :’) But am I the only one who was like bro calm down right after the fight where he was getting up in Kieran’s face and calling him ex-champion…..either he’s way too honest and doesn’t realize he was being cruel OR he was doing it on purpose to be a silly goober (but everyone else was like DUDE. LOW blow.)

-I still have questions. HELLO. HELLO. The notes in Area Zero mentioned the professor meeting a child with a white(?) book? Is that the Scarlet/Violet book? We still don’t know how the whole time travel paradox happened and why Heath talked about meeting Paradox Pokemon DECADES before the professor even brought them to Area Zero through the time machine? What is with the weird ass crystal tree sitting in the middle of a lake in the depths? Is there any significance to the Crystal Pool in Kitakami being connected to terastallizing and Area Zero? I’M JUST. AGHHH. I’m fairly certain we’re getting more content, maybe an epilogue to the DLCs but I’m going CRAZY I NEED TO KNOW NOWWW

-Also isn’t Area Zero like. Top secret hush hush. Why did Geeta let Briar publish a whole ass book about the HIDDEN SECRET of Area Zero that was miles under a closed off SECRET lab. I thought they were denying Briar access to Area Zero for YEARS, probably because they didn’t want her blabbing to the public. Idk. Maybe my memory is fuzzy on that one. Just feels very contradictory fhhdd

-The small little subtleties of Kieran regaining his regular personality as we went down….I ADORED that. His little smiles and him unable to contain his childish excitement and Carmine smiling at him with a knowing look bc after all this time her brother is FINALLY acting more like himself. And Kieran trying to brush it off like “wh-whatever” like he’s some sort of edgy teenager pretending he doesn’t care. GAHHHH it was so cute I wanted to cry 😭

ALL IN ALL it didn’t QUITE meet my expectations but it was still really good, especially considering this was all DLC content. Nothing will ever EVER top the main story of SV but the entirety of TTM and TID came pretty darn close. Kieran my sweet baby boy my blorbo I’m so glad you got your redemption arc and that you finally came to terms with your perception of strength and how it affects others. Baller DLC Nintendo do it again 👏

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Then, Can You make a fluff oneshot between Beidou and Make Reader with kuudere Personality and Cryo vision?

Beidou with a cold reader

characters: Beidou x gn!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: I haven't written for Beidou in… a while. So if I got some aspects of her character wrong I’m really sorry! If it shouldn't be to your liking, tell me and I'll try again once I have the time/motivation!

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Beidou

While you had your moments, your general attitude matched your vision to a tee. All in all, it was rare to see you wearing anything but a pokerface on your face, no matter if at a celebratory meal with the rest of the crew or while fighting monsters and storms on the sea, you remained unfazed, always looking disinterested and yet never refusing to participate in anything Beidou suggested.

Even if some outside observers might have found it difficult to imagine any reasons for two personalities as clashing as yours and your captain’s to get along as well as you did, Beidou herself could think of at least a dozen. From a professional standpoint having a number two as collected as you helped to balance out her… more enthusiastic personality. But there were also more than enough reasons for the two of you to get along well in private. Including but not limited to:

No matter how uninterested you looked, you were still a great listener, letting Beidou talk your ear off whether she was sober or not while somehow managing to remember more from your one-sided conversations than she did herself. You were good at making sure she didn’t overdo it during her more reckless moments and most importantly: the way you managed to tell any story from your adventures in a completely deadpan and unimpressed manner proved some of the most unexpected comedic entertainment either she or the rest of the crew could ask for.

“Come onnnnn, pleaseeeee", your drunk Crewmate begged you, slurring while holding on to your arm as if his life depended on it, only for you to briefly close your eyes in slight annoyance, grabbing your vision with your free hand before pressing it against his until the cold became too much for him to bear and he was forced to pull away.

“You were there as well. Tell them the story yourself”, you refuted, only to almost immediately make out the sound of several other of your drunk companions to start whining to you.

“I’m too drunk”, he retorted, and while he was obviously telling the truth, his argument was still far from convincing you in the slightest.

Just as you were about to tell him he should have told the story before drinking then however, a sudden weight on your shoulder caused your attention to shift towards it, only to be greeted with the sight of Beidou standing next to you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on her hip, the blush on her cheeks making it obvious she herself wasn’t sober in the slightest. And yet she was still a thousand times better off than any of the others.

“That and you’re just the best at telling stories”, she added with a smile. 

If it was anyone else, you would have brushed off the compliment as flattery and nothing else before quickly turning them down, and yet whenever it was Beidou that asked you, you found yourself considering it.

You had never really understood why they always wanted you to be the one to relay their adventures. When you had asked her however, she told you that while everyone else tried to embellish their stories and make it sound even more impressive than it already was, the way you did the exact opposite and made even the most epic fight sound like it was just another tuesday was more entertaining than anything the others had to offer. And while you still found it difficult to understand just why exactly that was the case, you had the sneaking suspicion you wouldn’t be able to get a more satisfying answer no matter who you asked.

“Alright”, came your brief answer, only for everyone to huddle up in earshot almost immediately, and yet all your mind paid attention to was the small cheer coming out of Beidou’s mouth as she removed her hand from your shoulder, placed it on your head, and ruffled your hair for a moment before sitting down next to you.

Thankfully everyone was too drunk to remember the small smile that broke across your face.