#he's not the focus of this post but I love him too much

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ gods and monsters ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x wife!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ you cherished your husband, your family, and the life you had created together. hwang in-ho was a man of contradictions, capable of immense love and devotion. he treated you with such care, as though you were the most precious thing in his world. his adoration was tangible in every gesture, every lingering glance. yet beneath that tenderness was a darkness you struggled to reconcile. this same man, who held your hand with precious affection, was also the masked overseer of the squid game, a series of merciless challenges where the desperate competed, often at the cost of their lives, for a staggering cash prize.

˚ ༘♡ you could never truly fathom it. the man who pressed sweet kisses to your forehead at night was the same monster who orchestrated a spectacle of death and suffering. he claimed no pleasure in it, but the mere fact of his involvement unsettled you. the gleaming black mask, the command he held over every horrific detail, it was a world so far removed from the comfort of your home, yet it belonged to him all the same.

˚ ༘♡ only once had he asked if you wished to attend, to see what he called “his other life.” the question had terrified you to your core, your lips parting in silent dismay. you hadn’t needed to answer. the way your expression shifted, the way fright and disapproval glared across your pallid face, was enough. he never brought it up again, never risked shattering the fragile balance he had created between his two identities.

˚ ༘♡ you were a mother to a healthy three-year-old son, who filled your days with laughter and energy, and you were carrying another child, though you had yet to tell your husband. the news remained a quiet secret, one you turned over in your mind during the solitude of the evening. it wasn’t fear of his reaction that kept you silent. hwang in-ho adored his family, there was no question of that, but the thought of bringing another life into the shadow of the games unsettled you.

˚ ༘♡ you tried to focus on being the woman you wanted to be, a loving mother, a supportive partner. in many ways, you succeeded. you tucked your son in every night with whispered stories and soft lullabies, kept your home warm and welcoming, and met your husband’s gaze with as much love as you could muster, even when doubts crept into the corners of your mind.

˚ ༘♡ when your worries became too much to bear, he would sense it, always. he would take your hands in his, his voice calm, his tone measured. “think of me as two men,” he would say, his words a plea for understanding. “there is hwang in-ho, your husband, your partner, the father of our children. and then there is the front man, a role i play, a mask i wear.”

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to believe him, to hold on to the idea that the man who kissed you tenderly each morning could be separate from the one who orchestrated so much pain. but no matter how you tried to comprehend it, there were nights when the thought of who he was beyond your shared walls kept you awake, your heart aching with questions you couldn’t bring yourself to ask.

˚ ༘♡ you tried with all your might to separate the two sides of the man you loved, the front man and your husband, hwang in-ho. but when he told you he wouldn’t be able to contact you during this year’s games, the delicate balance you had worked so hard to maintain crumbled. the weight of his words refused to settle, tearing at you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to simply let it go.

˚ ༘♡ “every year, you’ve managed to visit after the game for the day. what’s different this time?” you asked, your voice trembling with desperation.

˚ ༘♡ at first, he deflected, his tone dismissive as if your concerns were unwarranted. but as your worry grew, it became impossible for him to ignore. the strain in your expression, the way your voice cracked when you spoke, it was enough to wear him down. even your son had begun to notice, his small hands tugging at your sleeve, his innocent eyes filled with confusion at the tension that filled the air.

˚ ༘♡ with a frustrated sigh, in-ho finally relented. his hand enveloped yours, warm and steady against your trembling fingers. “i will be there this year,” he admitted, his voice hushed and measured. “as a player.”

˚ ༘♡ the words sent a chill through you, and your breath caught in your throat. “what? why?” you asked, your disbelief slicing through the tension.

˚ ༘♡ his gaze locked onto yours. “there is someone returning to the games this year,” he began, his tone careful. “a former player, a winner in fact. he’s likely to cause complications, and… i can’t deny the intrigue of watching him. this year will be different. i’ve decided to stay close by instead of observing from a distance.”

˚ ༘♡ fury and agony surged within you, and your hands shook as you lightly struck his chest, the beating driven by hysteria. “you idiot!” you yelled. “you can’t guarantee you’ll be safe! have you even thought about your family? what about our son?”

˚ ༘♡ he caught your wrist gently, his grip cautious, his face softening as he pulled you closer. “i will not be in danger,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “i promise you that.”

˚ ༘♡ still, his assurance wasn’t enough. it didn’t stop the knot in your stomach from tightening or the ache in your chest from growing far more intense. the words you spoke next tumbled out before you had a chance to think them through. “if that’s true, then you won’t have any problem with me coming along!”

˚ ༘♡ the declaration hung in the air, sharp and sudden. even you were startled by it, your heart pounding in your chest as the misery of your demand settled between you. fear and anger had driven you to say it, but now it was too late to take it back. you searched his face for a reaction, your pulse racing.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t speak such nonsense again," he said firmly, his tone cutting through the tension in the room. "you have our son to think about. i am going, and i’ll return in a week. this is final."

˚ ༘♡ “no!” you shot back, the tremor in your voice betraying your growing panic. “if you’re going, then i’m coming with you. you told me it’s safe.” your eyes darted toward your son, who had long fallen asleep, blissfully unaware of the battle unfolding. a wave of guilt swept over you, tightening your throat. “he can stay with the household staff for a week. do you think i could take care of him properly while i’m sick with worry about you?”

˚ ༘♡ his brow furrowed, the sharp lines of irritation creasing his weary face. “you’re being unreasonable,” he said, his voice hard, though it faltered slightly as he began pacing the room. each step was measured, purposeful, as though he were trying to walk away from the argument itself. “this is dangerous enough without you there complicating things.”

˚ ༘♡ “and you’re being infuriating,” you countered, your tone rising as desperation overtook your earlier composure. “do you think I’d forgive myself if something happened to you while i stayed here and did nothing? you’re asking too much of me.” your voice cracked, the weight of your despair spilling into the room.

˚ ༘♡ the argument carried on into the late hour, a nightmare of clashing scorn and unresolved fears. he tried to dismiss you, to shut you down with reason, but you refused to back down. your agony, raw and untamed, eventually drove you to the brink. “if you go without me, i’ll leave,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i’ll take our son, and i’ll leave.”

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was deafening. he froze, his gaze snapping to yours, searching your face for the truth. you hated the lie, the hollowness of your own threat, but it was all you had left. leaving him wasn’t something you could ever do, but the thought of him walking into danger alone was unbearable.

˚ ༘♡ he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the burden of his dilemma. “fine,” he said at last, his voice clipped and low. “if you’re coming, then there are conditions… rules that have to be carefully followed.”

˚ ༘♡ your relief was immediate but short-lived as his words settled over you like a heavy cloak. “what conditions?” you asked, your voice softer now, cautious.

˚ ༘♡ “we’ll need to use false identities," he explained, his tone deliberate, each word chosen with care. "to everyone involved, we’re strangers. no one can know who we are, not even that we’re connected."

˚ ༘♡ the practicality of his demand sent a shiver down your spine, even as you nodded in agreement. the idea of pretending he was nothing more than a stranger felt unnatural, wrong, but you couldn’t argue. “i understand,” you murmured, though the knot in your stomach tightened with every passing second.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as though considering whether you truly grasped what you were stepping into. when he finally looked away, you felt no sense of victory, only the forthcoming horror of what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ the games were set to begin in exactly one week, and each passing day left you feeling more unsettled. every time your husband pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered beneath the surface, making it difficult to fully surrender to his warmth. though you tried to find comfort in his presence, the thought of what lay ahead clouded every shared moment.

˚ ༘♡ you had entrusted your son to the most reliable and loyal members of the household staff, ensuring that he would be cared for in your absence. you also took great care to conceal any sign of your pregnancy. if in-ho discovered the truth, he would never allow you to join him, and staying behind was not an option you could accept.

˚ ༘♡ he had laid out the plan with meticulous precision. the two of you would arrive after the chaos of the first game, red light, green light. as he explained it, a large portion of the participants would undoubtedly be eliminated once they grasped the deadly reality of the games. the aftermath of that horror would provide cover for your entrance, allowing you to integrate without raising suspicion.

˚ ༘♡ your husband would take on the identity of player 001, an unassuming participant with no visible ties to you. your alias would be player 077, your stories carefully crafted to fit the narrative. his fabricated reason for joining the games was both haunting and ironic, he claimed he needed money for his pregnant wife. when he first told you this, a wave of panic washed over you, thinking he might have discovered your secret. but as you studied his expression, his calm demeanor revealed no hint of realization.

˚ ༘♡ for your feigned story, he decided you would play the role of a young woman drowning in debt, struggling to pay off the burdens left behind by your late father. the lie felt strangely fitting, yet it unsettled you all the same. every detail he crafted for your cover seemed so calculated, so detached, it was as though he had rehearsed this for far longer than he let on. this game of life and death was nothing more than a facade for him.

˚ ༘♡ you nodded along as he explained the plan, his voice unwavering. though the words were spoken with care, they failed to soothe the growing tension within you. each step of the plan felt cold, clinical, designed to strip away any sense of the life you shared outside these games. with every passing day, the distance between hwang in-ho, your husband, and the front man became more glaring, and you wondered if you could truly separate the two when it mattered most.

˚ ༘♡ you knelt by your son’s bedside, planting a soft kiss against his forehead. his small hand clung to your finger, and for a vanishing moment, you felt the crushing weight of guilt threaten to undo you. you whispered promises you weren’t sure you could keep, telling him you would be back soon, that everything would be fine. as his breathing slowed in sleep, you lingered a minute longer, memorizing the curve of his face and the delicate skin of his tiny hand before slipping away with your husband.

˚ ༘♡ the player uniforms were a tight, oppressive reminder of the role you had agreed to take on. the white and forest-green fabric felt rough against your skin, the stitched numbers, 001 on him, 077 on you, marking you both as part of this wicked charade. the air between you was dense with unspoken tension as you followed his lead into the heart of the games.

˚ ༘♡ the aftermath of the first game hit you like a physical blow. scarlet-red blood smeared the walls, the metallic stench thick enough to taste. lifeless bodies were being dragged away by masked figures, their uniforms pristine against the carnage. your stomach churned violently, and you had to bite down hard to keep from retching. your husband walked ahead, his pace measured, his face a mask of icy detachment.

˚ ༘♡ yet, even as he feigned indifference, you noticed the subtle tension p his clenched fists and the hard line of his jaw. no matter how disciplined and resolute he was, pretending you were a stranger clearly cost him some of his will power.

˚ ༘♡ you entered the massive dormitory, a cavernous space where the remaining players huddled in groups, their expressions etched with terror and disbelief. the room was alive with murmurs, frantic whispers of confusion and distress as they tried to process what had happened. the realization of the deadly nature of the games hung over the crowd, suffocating and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ abruptly, a piercing voice broke through the calamity, commanding and filled with urgency. all eyes turned to player 456, a man whose presence seemed to dominate the room. his words were bold, calling for a vote in accordance with the consent clause, a chance for the players to decide whether they would continue or abandon the games. the idea rippled through the crowd, igniting faint glimmers of hope in some and deepening the despair in others.

˚ ༘♡ your husband moved slightly, a subtle shift in his stance catching your attention. his gaze flicked toward you, so brief it was almost imperceptible. then, with deliberate movements, he traced a small circle on the back of his hand, an action so precise it disturbed you. he turned away before you could react, his focus now on the masked enforcers who were setting up the voting station.

˚ ༘♡ it took you a moment to understand the message. he wanted you to vote in favor of continuing the games. the realization landed suddenly. you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to steady yourself. the thought of condemning the remaining players to more death and suffering was unbearable, but you understood what his silent gesture meant. if the games ended now, everything he had planned, every risk he had taken, would amount to nothing.

˚ ༘♡ the apprehension caused your chest to tighten further as the masked figures prepared the voting station, their movements mechanical and precise. the voices of the players rose, some pleading for an end, others arguing to stay. you felt your pulse quicken, the enormity of what you were about to do pressing down on you as you prepared to cast a vote that would decide not only the fate of the players but the course of your husband’s dangerous mission.

a/n: the winner of the fanfiction vote, but i will definitely be writing for cho sang-woo as well! i hope you all enjoy reading! let me know if you have anymore requests! 🤍

[gaypirate420]

Viktor running his fingers through m! Readers hair and Jayce is getting jealous of us so Viktor starts giving him a scalp massage too.

This was inspired by that viral post of Viktor High Key being a Dom.

Here nyehehehhe, very short I'm sorry.

Puppies// Jayvik

S1!Jayvik x male!reader.

Summary: Viktor has two puppies in a lab.

Suggestive. Fluff.

Viktor takes a small sip from his drink, the sugary taste of the sweet milk traveling down his mouth, his amber eyes looked down, you and Jayce where on the floor, a chalk in hand as each of you drew his notes on the literal floor of the lab, per his request, something about scaling.

"Is this big enough for you?" You asked a little breathlessly as you leaned back on your knees, going backwards trying not to mess the chalk drawing, a small pout adorning your face as you placed chalk, ruler and measuring tape to a side, you were the first one to protest against this idea.

"it gives me a better view, sweetling." The pale man answered back before returning his lips to his mug, Jayce sighed and shook his head, the sound of chalk and his tired breaths filling the air for a moment.

"Bigger papers exist, V." The tall one mumbled as he kept drawing, his knees already feeling a little sore after being in the cold floor of the lab.

"No need to whine, love, a little mopping will get rid of it." Viktor answered back before taking another sip, you rubbed your eyes, a soft yawn escapes your lips as you rest your head on his lap, avoiding his brace for an inch. His brows were furrowed deep in thought as he saw his blueprint on the floor.

"We have to take a break, we're going insane! We're drawing on the floor! We're scientists not cavemen." You mumbled against his thigh, the sound a little muffled. Viktor shushed you gently and returned to his own little mental palace, one of his hands left his mug, his pale and slender fingers finding your hair. He could feel your tired exhale against his leg.

His touch is gentle, slow, his eyes focused on your tense shoulders, he carefully digs deeper, massaging slowly. Almost as an apology for the burden of making you drag yourself around on the floor drawing.

Jayce finally finished his part, looking down at the whole layout and starting to take mental notes, he steps back to allow the zaunite to see the drawing completely. He claps his hands, getting rid of any chalk dust in them.

The taller man's hazel eyes catch the tender scene, you, on your knees by Viktor's side, your hair getting played with, he feels a warmth creeping on his cheeks, he looks away quickly and tries to focus on the drawing but something else start to brew. Jealousy.

"Hm." Jayce sat down on the floor too, perhaps a little inspired by you on Viktor's left side, he swallowed as his eyes focused on the drawing almost too much and too intensely. Viktor placed his mug between his thighs, he smirks ever so faintly and his hand goes to brush the taller one's hair back, the reaction is immediate, a soft sigh hangs on the air, he leans against his thigh too as Viktor brushes down his neck.

"I can picture your tails wagging perfectly." Viktor said with a teasing tone, you chuckled against him while Jayce whimpers and hides his face on his thigh. Both of you are blushing though, neither pulling away from his touch.

A/N: HEYYYY, hi, how are y'all...I know I KNOW I have some promised fics on the waiting but I'm picky and I want to enjoy my winter break I'm sorry, arrest me. Hope y'all liked this!

[deonsx]

Hope i’m not too late to request 😭

but i’d love a sae fic where the reader is a very famous hollywood actress, and the content would just be her in japan with sae coming to that u20 meeting, coming to the match, cheering for him, being shown on the big screen while doing so, and fluffy moments in front of the paparazzi

and also how the crowd and especially how the u20 members would react to it all (sendou would be interesting since bro wants an actress gf so bad lol)

i’ve been binge reading your posts the whole day today and i just HAD to request 💕💕 thank you so much 🤭

hiii love!! You made it before the last hours, I loved this request have a good read (also the rq has already closed, thank you to my loves who sent requests still, but I haven't finished the ones in the event yet. I will be ready for a new event) AND THANK YOU FOR 900 FOLLOWERS(｡◕‿◕｡✿)

Sae sat with the rest of the U-20 team during their pre-match briefing seemingly unbothered by the noise outside. But even his teammates couldn’t resist teasing him “Yo Sae care to explain why she is wearing your jersey” Sendou smirked nudging Sae’s arm “You’re dating her right You have to be. There’s no way she’d just show up for no reason”

Sae shot him a bored look “Focus on the game”

“But-”

“Shut up” Sendou groaned but didn’t stop staring at the monitors where the VIP section was being shown live “Man I swear if I had an actress girlfriend I’d retire from football right now. Goals achieved”

“Good thing you don’t” Sae replied flatly but his lips quirked up ever so slightly. The match began and the tension was palpable. Every time Sae got the ball the crowd roared but the cameras inevitably panned to you. You clapped enthusiastically leaning forward in your seat and when Sae’s shot curved perfectly into the net you jumped to your feet cheering louder than anyone else

The stadium erupted. Fans screamed his name but all Sae could hear even amidst the chaos was the faint echo of your voice. He looked up at the stands and found you beaming hands clasped in excitement. He allowed himself a brief glance just long enough for Sendou to notice

“Did you just smile at her” Sendou asked incredulously running beside Sae as they moved back into formation “Play the game” Sae said but there was a rare softness in his tone

The game ended with a U-20 victory. Sae dominated the field but the post-match buzz wasn’t just about his performance. The cameras couldn’t get enough of you rushing down to meet him at the sidelines. You threw your arms around him unbothered by the press or the dozens of lenses capturing the moment

“You were amazing” you said voice slightly breathless. Sae let you hug him one hand resting casually on your back “You’re loud you know that”

“You like it” you teased pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. The photographers captured every second your bright smile his subtle but unmistakable fondness. Fans online exploded with reactions some gushing about your chemistry others lamenting how “unfair” it was that Sae got the girl of their dreams

Back in the locker room the teasing was relentless “I can’t believe it” Sendou groaned throwing his towel to the floor “She was hugging you Sae. Hugging you. Meanwhile I can’t even get a text back”

“You’re embarrassing yourself” Sae replied tying his shoelaces “I don’t care. Introduce me. Tell her I’m funny” Sae stood slinging his bag over his shoulder “She’s not interested in idiots” The entire team burst into laughter as Sendou collapsed dramatically onto the bench

Later that evening Sae and you managed to slip away from the chaos and grab a quiet dinner. The restaurant was discreet but a few paparazzi still lingered outside “You’re the talk of Japan right now” you teased swirling your drink “How does it feel to be the center of attention”

He leaned back in his chair the corner of his mouth lifting slightly “I could ask you the same thing” You laughed leaning across the table “Oh please. You’re the real star today. I was just a very enthusiastic fan”

“Too enthusiastic” he muttered though his tone lacked any real annoyance “You didn’t seem to mind when I was screaming your name” Sae’s gaze lingered on you for a moment soft and unguarded “Maybe I didn’t”

Enjoy!

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

solo chan masturbation

warnings: gn reader, mentions of oral, unprotected sex, imagined sex while someone else is in the room? idk how to explain that lol

an: am i posting a smutty drabble at 9am on a sunday? the lords day? yes, yes i am. in christopher’s name we pray.

masterlist

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

chris leaned back in his chair, legs spread wide, hands rubbing over his clothed bulge. he liked to take his time, would much rather go home to you, or at the very least give you a call. but it was late and he knew you were asleep. he needed to finish this track. it was due tomorrow, but he couldn’t focus. his cock was so painfully hard.

he closed his eyes, doing his best to picture you kneeling in front of of him, hidden under the desk. it was a fantasy he conjured up quite often actually. your cute little hands hooking in the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down to his ankles. he did just that, lifting his hips off the chair to scoot his clothing down his legs. he imagined your face, your pretty eyes, looking up at him from under his cock. your little tongue giving quick licks to his balls as his heavy shaft rested against your cheek.

his fingertips ghosted over his leaking tip as he imagined it. he reminded himself he needed to be quick. he had work to do. he couldn’t wear himself out too much. just a quickie. just enough to clear you from his system for a little while so he could focus.

as he wrapped his hand around himself, he imagined it was your lips. he imagined he was sliding into your warm mouth, instead of his fist. one of your favorite things to do was have him in your mouth, he knew that. so it happened frequently and he could picture it vividly in his mind. what your tongue felt like as it laid flat against the underside of his shaft, teasing the vein that ran to his tip.

sometimes when he was feeling impatient, he would tangle his fingers in your hair and force you to take him down your throat. the tip of your nose brushing his little dark curls at his base as you gagged around him. he loved the sound of it. loved the feeling of your drool sliding down his skin, dripping onto the floor.

“fuck..” he breathed, eyes shut tight, lost in his fantasy.

sometimes he would let himself wonder what it would be like to have you suck him off under the desk while there were other people in the room. of course, he would never actually do this. but sometimes, like in this moment, he let his mind wander to the thought of you taking all of him, your lips brushing against his balls, as seungmin recorded his part in the booth.

he imagined your groans leaking out from around his cock, trying to remain quiet as you touched yourself over your clothes as you pleased him. he thought about what it would be like to give seungmin direction, tell him to hold this note longer, pronounce this word like this, as he fucked himself into your mouth.

would he be able to keep it a secret? would he be able to hold himself back? or would he have to tell seungmin that his part was finished, just so he could get him to leave. so he could pull you up from the floor and bend you over the desk, your face against the keyboard, accidentally erasing all the work he just did with seungmin. but he wouldn’t care.

he imagined burying his cock deep inside you, finally getting some relief.

“shh.” he whispered aloud to the empty room, talking to imaginary you. “just let me— fuck. just let me use you.”

the sound of him fucking his fist filled the dark studio. but in his mind you were begging him to cum, begging him to fill you up.

the thought of your fucked out expression as you looked over your shoulder at him, your lust filled eyes and messy hair, your drool covered chin, sent him over the edge.

“fuck.. fuck i’m cumming..” his cock twitched in his hand and he quickly reached for a tissue from the box he kept just for this reason. he placed it against his tip, catching all of his release. what a waste, he thought. it belonged deep inside you, not in this tissue. that was your cum. it belonged to you.

he caught his breath, cleaning himself up and tossing the tissue into the trash. the embarrassment washed over him then as he opened his eyes and returned to the real world. the studio was still dark and empty, the clock read 3:45 am instead of 3:15, and his computer was still open to the song that had been frustrating him so.

though embarrassed, he also felt relieved, his body felt relaxed. he pulled his shorts back up and straightened himself in his chair. he was determined to get this finished.

so he could go home and fuck you properly.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[acid-ixx]

i would not survive wayne manor if i had to stare into dick's y/n blue orbs everyday

stop looking at me with those eyes! (again &. again mini drabble)

ft. post-kidnapped reader w/ yandere batfam shitpost

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ! ; related post !

thank u for sending this oh my god, i need to write about this!!! i absolutely love your art style for the reader, they're so handsome i'm crying and laughing 😭😭😭 and it's true!!! i will also die if i look at the entire family's eyes as a filipino who has never once stared at a foreigner's eyes because it's just so bright huhu.

unfortunately for your case though, your refusal to look straight at them just translates to extra unwanted counseling sessions with the family in one of the large expanses of the living rooms housing the available members for a meeting. it's a whole gathering where you're the center of attention.

and it's not only dick involved, it's also all the other blue-eyed bastards and an additional glowering, pair of green ones which shines the brightest of them all— and if not for cass and duke's dark colored peepers, you might've truly passed away because it's no joke that their eyes glint under the light passing through locked windows, especially when the sun is at its highest peak and hits at just the right angles to glisten.

not only have you no physical escape, but their obsessed stares never leave your form too, devouring and locking you whole in your place and claustrophobic to the chains of their bright-orbed gaze.

"(name), dear, as much as you don't wish for me to address the issue; it's becoming an unhealthy habit that you refuse to maintain eye contact with the family. it doesn't help that your heart palpitates, you perspire more often, and you make excuses to run to a different room when you do. what's wrong?"

you don't even have to look up from staring at your lap (as if you want to, hah!) to know it's your father's voice directed at you. it's a unique tremor that reverberates across the room and commands attention from all corners; yet when he speaks to you, it's coated with an unhealthily sweet reverence that seems completely foreign to someone who has never once spoken to him until now.

"u-uhm..." stuttering, you bite your lip, drowning in your own self-preservation that had you ignoring dick's stealthy steps to your seated body on the couch, only for his fingers to carefully graze on your chin, snapping you out of your attention yet being too late as he lifts your head up, forcing to stare at his wide-blown eyes.

they're unnaturally bright today, shining more than the beaches in those private islands bruce owns, it's even more terrifying that he's staring at you.

"it's unfair too... baby bird, that it's me you avoid the most," he groans, it grates at your ears but it was better to focus on your other senses if you wish to control the ever-living fear of miley cyrus' blue eyes burned right into your retina, now associated with dick's emboldened ones. his palms find its way to either side of your head, cradling it side to side, the contact forced you to continue staring ahead of him. and no matter how much you resort to blanking out, the intensity of his baby blue eyes forfeits you to focus on anything else.

yet it's the gentle graze on your side that encourages you to speak your mind, you really hate how infantilizing this entire scene feels, and comical that they're - dick - is taking your excuses too seriously.

"ah... well—" how do you explain that you're shit at eye-contact because, first, and can't deal with their luminescent stares pinning you down to your spot, brighter than diamonds and emerald crystals, second?

"everyone's just too... you know. i- i really can't explain without it sounding... uhm..."

"too overwhelming? too what? akhi/akhti? it has been years since we last took you in, and you've been perfectly communicating with us until now. what has changed? has that rebel, todd, dare to make another deal with you again which involves refusing to properly communicate with us? with me? because if he did—"

damian's voice slithers with conviction, condemnation and possessive threats that strike fear into your heart with every venom-laced word. if not for his head nuzzling into the shadows of your neck, the dichotomy of dialogue and action, you would've been convinced he's out to kill you instead.

yet the same gremlin muttering insults is your little brother who takes the entire space beside you on the velvety couch, rendering you completely cornered by his expecting glare. except now, unlike the mental torment he subjected to you, his green-eye gaze glimmers with concealed adoration you've learned to discern, he's always been a heckler for your attention; the tan hands wrapped around your waist in a snuggle tightens, not too tight that it deprives you of oxygen, but demands your answers instead.

like father, like son. as the saying goes. always finding solutions with unwanted affection. couldn't even push them away without them interpreting your actions as rebellion which only results in more uncomfortable competitions on who gets to cuddle you for longer.

and wait, no, they didn't take you in, bullshit! they basically kidnapped you. it's only that you've grown accustomed to dealing with them individually and as a group, but because they've been more lenient with technology, providing you access to wifi with supervised search results, you stumbled across one of , which not-so faintly reminds you of them.

your past traumas of them replaced with jaded motivation to survive and tolerate the ever living plague in your life you call your family.

bruce did advise you to associate them with positive things instead as a first step to your adjusting phase, and miley cyrus' anthropoidal, not-quite human stare isn't negative in any way, yet it's also by no means negative, if not unsettling— which leads you to a common ground, a common affiliation which helps you cope with the fear that they might harm you and isolate you with loneliness even further; forgetting your presence once again.

learning to love them was hard, so relating them to anything comical was way easier on the still-heavy burden in your heart which yearns for freedom burned off through countless of escape attempts, the grief of your mother's death now decades worth, and just the shock of it all that they're still interested in you until now that hasn't worn off still, despite the years passing by quicker than blowing off a candle-light.

still, everyone retains their gaze on you, never once breaking contact with your form as if you're capable of escaping their grasp. you try to look down, but to no avail, dick was too invested in hogging your head all to himself and nuzzling it in his toned stomach, whilst damian refuses to separate from his ever tightening hold which renders you unable to full grasp your thoughts and speak.

god-damned hypocrites.

"holy shit..." it's tim who broke off the silence, muttering under his breath in disbelief whilst his hand fiddles with the modded tablet bruce had given you as a christmas gift. his lanky finfers continue scrolling eyes fixated on the scene before him, every expression illuminated by the faint glow of your tablet's screen. the most visible feature, gazing at him through whichever was left of your vision unobstructed by dick's body; was of course, his widening blue eyes, as it seems like he'd hit jackpot with his appalled reactions.

it seems like he found the exact same picture.

would it be a bad thing now if you'd run away from the room once they all collectively hone in on the image before them? or is it too risky of a task?

honestly, with just how routine your life must be right now, you'd prefer to run, to feel the air run through your hair, to bask in the sun washing your body in its warmth.

maybe to find unbidden joy in another game of cat and mouse, or it may be another one of your excuses to avoid those piercing eyes once more if even by just a mere fraction.

or maybe you could stay for now, because is it just you, or did you actually succeed in traumatizing them for once instead of you?

[fushigurokogane]

~ Megumi Fushiguro Headcannons ~

hiii lovess~!! This is my first post on tumblr so BARE with me!! I hope you guys like these headcannons of our favorite EMO MANNN!!

~ Megumi is the type to show his love through actions rather than words. He may not be the most openly affectionate, but his protective instincts are off the charts. Whether it's making sure you're safe during dangerous situations or just being there when you need him, you’ll always feel his quiet support. If you're ever in a tight spot, he'll make sure you're safe without making a fuss. “Stay close to me. I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he’ll say with a calm but firm tone. If a situation arises where you’re in danger, he won’t hesitate to step in, reassuring you with, “I’ll handle this. You just focus on staying safe.”

~ When Megumi gives you compliments, they’re never over the top or cheesy. Instead, he’ll casually tell you, “You look nice today,” or “I like the way you think.” It’s not flashy, but it’s sincere, and you can always tell he means it. He doesn’t like to draw too much attention to it, but you’ll catch him giving you a soft smile and saying, “You look good today. Not that you don’t always, but today... it’s different.” Or, when you’ve just come up with a good idea, he might say, “I like how you think. You always know what to say.”

~ Megumi prefers quiet, low-key dates. Maybe a walk in the park, sitting at a quiet café, or going to a bookstore. He’s not one for big crowds or flashy outings, but he enjoys spending time with you in peaceful settings where he can focus on you without distractions. He enjoys the silence as much as the conversation. “I like this. Just us... no need for anything fancy,” he’ll say, glancing at you with a rare, warm smile. If you stop to look at something, he might add, “I’ll wait here. You take your time looking around.”

~ When you’re feeling down, Megumi is the type to sit with you in silence, offering his presence more than words. If you need someone to vent to, he listens patiently and gives sound advice without being too overwhelming. He doesn’t need to solve everything, but he’s there when you need him. He’ll sit by your side, saying, “You don’t have to say anything. I’m right here,” in a voice full of quiet support. If you start to share your thoughts, he’ll nod and respond with something like, “I know it’s tough right now. Take it slow, okay?”

~ Megumi respects your autonomy and space. He’s not the type to cling to you or act jealous. Instead, he’s supportive of your goals and interests, even if they don’t always overlap with his. He appreciates your independence and doesn’t feel the need to be in your business 24/7. He’ll reassure you, “You don’t have to check in every second. I trust you.” If you mention needing some alone time, he might respond with, “I get it. You need time for yourself. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

~ Though he’s serious most of the time, Megumi has his playful side that comes out around you. Whether it’s teasing you in a light-hearted way or showing off his random little quirks, he can be surprisingly fun once he feels comfortable. He might nudge you with a smirk, saying, “You really think you can beat me? Let’s see about that.”

~ Megumi is more in tune with your emotional state than he lets on. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, he’s the type to step in and help without hesitation, whether it’s through a comforting gesture or just taking care of things on your behalf. He doesn’t like seeing you stressed and will do what he can to make things easier for you. He’ll gently say, “You don’t need to carry all of that alone. Let me help.” Or, if you seem particularly stressed, he’ll comfort you with, “You’re stressed. I can see it. Take a breath. I’ve got it from here.”

~ He’s not one for grand gestures of affection, but Megumi has his ways of showing how much he cares. From the gentle way he touches your arm to the occasional shoulder rub when you're tense, his physical affection is subtle but full of meaning. When he holds your hand, it’s with a sense of quiet trust. He’ll offer his hand and say, “You can hold my hand if you want. I don’t mind,” or, in a quiet moment, “It’s just... I feel better when you’re close.”

~ Megumi isn’t the type to show jealousy openly. If he feels threatened by someone’s attention toward you, he’ll internalize it and try to focus on keeping his cool. But, if he gets too worked up, he might get a little more protective over time, making sure you're always by his side. He might downplay his feelings with, “Don’t worry, I’m not jealous. I just don’t like seeing you get too close to someone who doesn’t have your back.” If it continues, he’ll lean in and say, “I’m fine. Just... stay by me, okay?”

~ Megumi can be a little awkward when it comes to public displays of affection. He’s not someone who enjoys showing off his relationship in front of others, and he prefers to keep things low-key. However, in private, he can be quite affectionate in his own subtle way, like giving you a quick kiss on the forehead or cuddling up next to you during a movie. When you’re out together, he’ll say with a slight blush, “We don’t have to hold hands in front of everyone, but... I don’t mind when it’s just us.” After a kiss on your forehead, he might add, “Don’t read into it. I just wanted to do that.”

~ Megumi takes your words seriously, even the small things. Whether you’re talking about something that happened during your day or telling him about a random thought, he listens and engages with what you say, showing you that your opinions and feelings matter to him. When you share something on your mind, he’ll respond thoughtfully, saying, “That sounds like it was rough. What do you think you should do about it?” Or, if you keep talking, he’ll encourage you with, “I’m listening. Keep going. What happened next?”

~ When you're feeling under the weather or stressed, Megumi will step in and take care of you without hesitation. He’s the kind of boyfriend who’ll grab your favorite snacks, bring you water, or just stay with you, making sure you're comfortable and rested. He’ll come over and quietly say, “Here’s some water. I’ll stay with you until you feel better.” If you need anything else, he might add, “You need anything else? Just let me know. I’ve got you.”

~ Megumi respects when you need your own space. He doesn’t take it personally if you need time to recharge, and he uses that time to reflect or work on his own things. It’s not about distancing, but about understanding that being together sometimes means giving each other the space to grow individually. He’ll reassure you with, “I know you need some time. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” If you’re taking a break, he’ll tell you, “Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

~ Megumi finds peace in your presence, even if he’s quiet or a little reserved. Just being around you is enough to help him unwind, whether it’s reading together, having a silent dinner, or simply lying in bed beside each other. He appreciates the stillness you bring to his often chaotic life. He’ll look at you with a content expression and say, “It’s nice, just... being here with you.” On more quiet days, he might murmur, “I don’t need to go anywhere. I’m happy just sitting here with you.”

~ While he might not be the loudest or most expressive boyfriend, Megumi is the steady rock you can lean on. His consistency and reliability are a testament to his feelings for you, and no matter what challenges come your way, you can count on him to be there for you in his own quiet way. When times are tough, he’ll say with calm assurance, “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.” Or, when you need reassurance, he’ll quietly tell you, “It’s okay. You don’t have to do it alone. I’ve got your back.”

DID YOU GUYS ENJOYYY??? I might make headcannon for yuji too!! So if you want one LET ME KNOWW!! ILY U SM POOKIES BAI BAIII~~!!

love, ✭ Nika ✭

[thanoskin]

FLICKERS OF YOU

( first post..kinda nervous… Enjoy! )

Pairing: Thanos x Nam-gyu

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

SFW

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

— It was lights out, there was a faint light down the hall of the large room, the remaining players, exhausted from the day’s game, sat in silence, no one dared to sleep after what just happened. Thanos leaned against the wall, his purple hair catching whatever small light there was. His hands were shaking, he needed to calm the fuck down.

Nam-gyu peered down at him from his bunk, the sharp click-click of the lighter was infuriatingly steady, like a clock counting down the moments to the next game. Nam-gyu clenched his fists, his nerves on high.

“Would you stop that?”

Thanos looked up at him, a grin plastered across his stupid, cute face. “What? Nervous, friend?”

“Big day tomorrow, could be your last.”

Nam-gyu scowled. “You think everythings a joke, don’t you?”

Thanos stood, pocketing his lighter as he stretched. “Not everything, just you.”

Nam-gyu glared at him, but Thanos just smirked, leaning against the bunk’s frame. “Relax,” Thanos said casually. “I’ve got a way to take the edge off. Come on.”

Nam-gyu scrambled off the bed, quickly following his lead like a lost puppy.

“where are we going?”

Thanos gestured toward the door. “The bathroom. I’ve got some cigs. Thought you might want one before… well, you know.”

Nam-gyu immediately got defensive as he continued to follow Thanos. “Why would I need….”

Thanos smirked again. “Because you need it. Or are you too scared to be alone with me?”

Nam-gyu brought his hand to his face to hide his blush as he followed Thanos, the tracksuit sleeve snug against his cheek.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Thanos kicked open the door and leaned against the wall by the sinks, pulling a slightly crumpled cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. He took a long drag before holding the pack out to Nam-gyu.

“Here.” Thanos held out the pack, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Nam-gyu hesitated before shaking his head. “I don’t really smoke like that.”

"Figured,” Thanos said, flicking ash onto the floor. "You're too much of a good boy for that."

Nam-gyu bristled. "I'm not a 'good boy.”

Thanos chuckled, stepping closer.

“Oh, i know you’re not. But you sure like pretending to be.”

Nam-gyu's breath hitched as Thanos stopped just a step away, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of smoke.

Nam-gyu crossed his arms, leaning against the opposite wall. “You dragged me all the way here for this? You could’ve just smoked alone.”

Thanos chuckled, tapping ash onto the floor. “And miss the chance to see you squirm? Nah.”

Nam-gyu blushed again. “I’m not squirming.”

“Sure you’re not,” Thanos said, his tone amused.

“You’ve been on edge since the first game. Always looking over your shoulder, like you’re waiting for someone to stab you in the back.” He took another drag, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Let me guess, you think that someone is me, huh?”

Nam-gyu’s silence was answer enough. He loved Thanos to death, he’d do anything for him. His partner in crime, he couldn’t stand the thought of being abandoned and kicked out of his sight.

Nam-gyu’s pulse raced, his mouth dry. “Maybe you should focus on yourself instead of trying to analyze me.”

Thanos leaned in slightly, “Maybe I’d rather focus on you.”

Nam-gyu’s breath caught, his stomach twisting with anxiety and something else he didn’t want to name.

“Why are you doing this?”

Thanos hesitated for the first time.

“Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t care,” he admitted, his voice softer. “You drive me crazy. And not in the way this place does. I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Nam-gyu stared at him, his heart pounding. “You’re serious?” he felt as if Thanos was joking.

Thanos gave a lopsided grin. “Serious enough to tell you here, in the worst place imaginable.” He stepped back, giving Nam-gyu space. “I’m not expecting anything. Just thought you should know, okay?”

Nam-gyu swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “You’re still an ass,” he muttered, his cheeks visibly burning. He covered his hands with his sleeves nervously.

Thanos smiled, flicking the cigarette into the sink. “Yeah, but you’re blushing.”

Nam-gyu looked up, scowling. “I’m not.”

“Sure you’re not,” Thanos teased, stepping past him toward the door. “Come on, let’s get back before these guards thinks we’re up to something.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Nam-gyu hesitated, the warmth in his stomach refusing to fade. With a sharp sigh, he followed, though he couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips.

[f1fan1644]

Back To Us

Pairing; Lando Norris x Model!Reader

Summary: After years of love and heartbreak, Lando and Y/N find their way back to each other, rekindling a bond they thought was lost. Their reunion unfolds quietly—until a triumphant race reveals their love to the world.

Pictures; Pinterest

Lando leaned back in his seat, staring blankly at the racing simulator in front of him. The hum of the paddock seemed distant, drowned out by the weight pressing on his chest. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was missing. No, not something—someone.

Y/N’s face lingered in his mind more often than he cared to admit. It had been months since they’d made the decision to part ways, but the ache of her absence hadn’t dulled. At first, he thought it would. He told himself the distance, the silence, the nights spent apart were just what they needed.

“Everything okay?” Max Fewtrell’s voice cut through his thoughts, snapping Lando back to reality.

“Yeah,” Lando lied, though the tightness in his throat betrayed him. “Just tired.”

Max gave him a knowing look but didn’t push. Everyone around Lando could see that he hadn’t been himself lately. Not since Y/N had stopped appearing in the garage as more than just a McLaren partner.

Lando busied himself with training, race prep, and media duties, but no amount of distraction seemed to fill the void. He thought back to their last conversation, sitting across from each other on the worn leather couch in their shared London apartment.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Y/N had whispered, her voice trembling.

He remembered the way her hands fidgeted with the hem of her oversized sweater, the one he had bought her years ago. She wasn’t angry, just… sad. Defeated.

“Don’t say that,” he had pleaded, leaning forward. “We can fix this.”

“We’ve been trying, Lando. For months. And we just… can’t.”

Her words hung in the air like a heavy cloud. Deep down, he knew she was right. The long flights, the late-night arguments over missed calls, the endless demands of their respective careers—it had all become too much.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he had said softly, his voice cracking.

“You’re not losing me,” she had replied, reaching out to take his hand. “But we’re losing us. And that’s what hurts the most.”

Even now, Lando could still feel the echo of her touch, the warmth of her palm against his.

The first time he saw her after the breakup was at the Monaco Grand Prix, only weeks later. She was there for a McLaren event, looking effortlessly stunning in a tailored jumpsuit and sleek heels. For a moment, Lando had forgotten how to breathe.

“Hey,” she had greeted him with a tentative smile, her eyes betraying

her nervousness.

“Hey,” he had replied, his voice rougher than he intended.

They exchanged polite conversation, pretending nothing had changed. But the way her eyes lingered on him when she thought he wasn’t looking told him everything he needed to know.

That night, as he lay in bed, he scrolled through her Instagram, lingering on the photos she had posted from the paddock. She still wore the same lanyard with his car number, still smiled like she belonged there. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like she was his.

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'Race day! 🧡'

@Mclaren

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New Year’s Eve came and went in a blur. Lando had accepted an invitation to a Dubai party with a group of friends, hoping the change of scenery would distract him. Magui Corceiro was there, lively and charming, and for a fleeting moment, Lando thought her laugh might drown out the ache in his chest.

But then midnight struck, and as fireworks lit up the sky, his thoughts drifted to Y/N. Was she watching the fireworks from London? Was she thinking of him, too?

He didn’t reach out. Neither did she.

Y/n_l/n just posted! landonorris just posted!

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'NYE in London.

Happy new year!' ‘Happy new year from Dubai!'

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Weeks later, he was invited to a dinner in London, organized by a mutual friend. Lando wasn’t in the mood for socializing, but he went anyway, hoping the company might lift his spirits.

The restaurant was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the chilly February air outside. Lando was nursing a glass of wine when he heard her voice.

“Hi,” Y/N said softly, stopping just inside the doorway.

Lando looked up, his heart skipping a beat. She looked just as he remembered—beautiful, poised, and slightly nervous.

“Hi,” he managed to reply, standing up awkwardly.

Their mutual friend, blissfully unaware of the tension between them, waved her over to the table. Lando watched as she took the seat across from him, their eyes meeting briefly before she looked away.

The evening passed in a haze of small talk and forced laughter. Lando barely touched his food, his attention glued to Y/N. He noticed the way she brushed her hair behind her ear when she was uncomfortable, the way her lips pressed together when she was trying not to cry.

After dinner, their friends slowly began to trickle out, leaving the two of them alone at the table. For a while, neither spoke.

“How have you been?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.

“Busy,” she replied, avoiding his gaze. “Work’s been… hectic.”

“Yeah, same,” he said, though he didn’t mean it.

The conversation faltered, but neither of them made a move to leave.

“Why are we doing this?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending like we don’t miss each other.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Miss me?”

Her eyes finally met his, glistening with unshed tears. “Every day.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, without thinking, Lando reached across the table and took her hand.

“Come home with me,” he said softly.

She hesitated, her breath hitching. But the look in his eyes—the raw, unguarded vulnerability—made her decision for her.

That night, as they sat together on Lando’s couch, the barriers between them crumbled. They talked for hours, revisiting the pain of their breakup, the loneliness they had both felt, and the undeniable pull that had brought them back together.

“I hated the holidays without you,” Y/N admitted, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Me too,” Lando said, wrapping an arm around her. “It didn’t feel right. Nothing does.”

They agreed to take things slow, to rebuild what they had lost without the pressure of the past.

Y/n_l/n just posted! landonorris just posted!

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'Elegance in every sip.🍷' 'Good food, better vibes✨’

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For the next few months, they kept their reunion private. Y/N continued attending races, blending seamlessly into the paddock. But those who paid close attention began to notice subtle changes—the way Lando’s eyes lit up when he saw her, the soft smiles they exchanged when they thought no one was looking.

“Are you two…?” Max asked one day, his eyebrows raised.

Lando grinned but didn’t answer.

By the time the final race of the season rolled around in Dubai, the rumours had reached a fever pitch. Fans dissected every glance, every Instagram story, every tiny clue. But neither Lando nor Y/N confirmed anything.

The race itself was electric. Lando drove like a man possessed, battling through the pack to claim his first-ever Grand Prix win. The crowd erupted as he crossed the finish line, the roar of cheers echoing through the night.

When he climbed out of his car, he didn’t head for the podium or his team. Instead, he ran straight to the McLaren garage, his helmet and balaclava discarded along the way.

Y/N was standing there, headphones on, her eyes glued to the screen. She didn’t notice him until he was right in front of her.

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'Model Y/n L/n seen in the McLaren garage watching Lando Norris'

'Are they back together? let us know your thought.'

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“Lando, what—”

Before she could finish, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, right there in front of everyone.

The world seemed to stop for a moment, then exploded into chaos. Cameras flashed, fans screamed, and the internet went into meltdown mode.

When Lando finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Took us long enough, didn’t it?” he said.

Y/N laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Yeah. It did.”

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'Formula 1 Driver Lando Norris and Model Y/n L/n seen kissing and being affectionate after the Abu Dhabi Grand prix, after Lando Norris won the grand prix'

@landonorris @Y/n_l/n

Later that night, as they celebrated with the team, Lando and y/n posted a photo of them together on Instagram with the caption: “Back where we belong.”

Y/n_l/n posted a story! landonorris posted a story!

Back Where we belong. Back Where we belong.

It was a moment ten years in the making, and this time, neither of them was letting go.

NEW STORY

ANYWAYS LMK WHAT YOU WANT NEXT

REQUEST ARE OPEN NOW!

NEXT STORY MIGHT BE A CHARLES STORY ;)

THANK YOU FOR READING <3

BYEEEEE

[mama-qwerty]

Tails attempting to comfort Sonic is what ultimately snowballed into the argument over the Master Emerald, but it ends with Sonic ignoring Tails before Knuckles relents and Sonic leaves them, and I find that depressingly ironic

Knuckles didn't want Sonic to argue with Tails. He knows how much Tails looks up to Sonic, and even in this time of despair, in this hour of sorrow, this moment of anger born of fear, Knuckles didn't want the hedgehog to hurt Tails simply because he's feeling guilty and worried about Tom.

So he stepped forward, focusing Sonic's anger on himself. When Sonic suggested using the Master Emerald, Knuckles tried to put the kibosh on that idea before it gained too much traction. Tails tried to talk him out of it. But Sonic didn't want to hear it, keeping his focus, his anger on Knuckles to give up the location.

Sonic didn't look at Tails hardly at all during that interaction. His anger was focused on Knuckles. And Knuckles kept it that way, because maybe he already felt the anxiety coming off the kit from what happened to Tom, and didn't want him to think that he was losing Sonic, too.

And part of the reason Knuckles didn't fight Sonic may have been because he didn't want to upset Tails any more. What good would fighting do? It wouldn't magically make Sonic forget about using the Master Emerald--it would simply put the hog on the outs with BOTH his brothers, during a time when there's already a lot of stress and unease going around because of Tom's injury.

They made a vow to protect the Master Emerald together, to protect it, and their new tribe together. And he stood by that vow, because it was important to him. He didn't really want to fight Sonic. You can see he's fighting himself in that second before he powers down.

(And as an aside, I love how when Sonic powers up, it's a sharp sound, like an electric zap, while when Knux powers up, his sounds like a damn clap of thunder.)

All Tails wanted to do was comfort Sonic. To say something that may ease the hog's fears and worries. But instead it made Sonic choose to do something that they never would have considered otherwise. Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.

Which likely gave the kit even more guilt and worry, as much as Knuckles tried to smooth things over.

~~~

Check out my other Sonic 3 analysis posts

[lilipens]

✧. HEART IN A CUP.

Synopsis: To ensure the taste is perfect, you're invited to a tea party by Riddle himself—though, there is more than meets the eye.

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x Gender Neutral!Reader

Warnings / Genre: None ^_^ It’s implied Riddle has romantic interest, so it’s kinda fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: aaaaaa late post,,, partially rushed because i lost track of time but enjoy anyways and belated happy new year to all!!!

Order. Precision. Routine. These are cornerstones of Riddle’s world. An uptight schedule governs every hour, every minute, ensuring nothing is out of place. There is no room for error, no time to waste. Nevertheless, you’ve somehow managed to slip through that perfect system. He doesn’t know how, but here he is, settling aside his meticulous plans to make time for you. Not that he’d admit it aloud.

Placing the teapot down carefully, he makes sure it aligns just right with the table’s edge. It must be exactly measured as it is a step in a well-practiced routine. His focus is keen, but something feels different today. A subtle tension sits in his shoulders, betraying the calm exterior he’s trying so hard to maintain. You don’t comment on it; regardless, you can’t help but notice him peeking at you now and then.

“I trust you’ll provide an honest critique,” Riddle speaks out quickly—fairly rushed. “Your input is valuable—essential, even; not because it’s yours, of course, but because improvement demands impartial feedback.” This tea-tasting is no ordinary event, even though he’s done it countless times before. This one feels personal.

You bite back a smile. The way he’s trying so hard to sound detached is almost endearing, although you know better. There’s nothing impartial about the way he keeps glancing at you, as if gauging your every reaction.  

Riddle may hold his routine in high regard, but he’s still human, and no amount of perfectionism can mask the little cracks in his armor.

With his fingers now gently adjusting the teapot once more, he refocuses on the task at hand. The sound of liquid pouring into the cup fills the silence between you. When you lift your lips, you can still see how palpable his stare is. Riddle’s breath hitches slightly. "How is it?" he blurts out, breaking the quiet with an edge of urgency. "The balance of flavors—does it meet expectations?"

Your lips curve into a soft smile as you take another sip. The tea, for what it’s worth, is lovely. The light sweetness blooms on your tongue, a delicate balance of flavors that speaks to the careful thought he’s put into it. "It’s wonderful. The taste isn’t overpowering, and it’s not too sweet... Did you add something special?"

Riddle straightens in his seat, a flicker of pride crossing his face despite his effort to keep it neutral. He clasps his hands together in his lap, the rigid posture a reflection of the precision with which he approaches every task. "Naturally," he responds proudly, as though each word has been chosen with the utmost care. "Every blend must be unique. Heartslabyul prides itself on its exacting standards, and I made adjustments to ensure it met them."

What he doesn’t say is how many late hours he spent poring over recipe books and testing proportions, how even his own peers had begun to comment on his unusual fixation. He rationalizes it to himself, convinced this is merely an extension of his relentless pursuit of perfection. Yet, deep down, he knows it’s more than that.

When you set the cup back on its saucer in satisfaction, Riddle feels an uncharacteristic wave of relief. He glances away, feigning interest in the napkin folded neatly by his plate, smoothing its already straight edges. “However, I am glad you approve,” he adds softly.

You observe him closely, noticing his cautiously maintained disposition start to falter a bit. A fleeting vulnerability shows as his hands fidget in his lap, giving way to the nerves he’s suppressing. He’s done so much for this moment, yet it’s as though he fears it’s still not enough. You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on the table as you meet his eyes.

“You know,” you start gently, “not everything has to be perfect. Sometimes, it’s okay to let things just... be.”

The words leave your mouth without much thought, but you can see how they settle into him. He freezes, his fingers clutching the teacup so tightly that you almost fear it might shatter. "Let things just be?" he repeats in a louder pitch, face slowly burning vivid red, before abruptly cutting off. He inhales sharply, exhaling through his nose as he tries to gather himself, to rein in whatever frustration is bubbling beneath the surface.

"Do you have any idea how—" He stops himself mid-sentence, eyes widening slightly as he realizes his tone has become far too harsh. A deep breath. Then another. He visibly forces his frustration down, his face flushing a deeper shade of crimson. "Forgive me," he apologizes stiffly, somewhat coming out restrained. "That was uncalled for."

For a second, you’re taken aback by the sudden outburst. There’s a tendency for Riddle to lose his composure in such a way, but witnessing it firsthand catches you off guard. As you watch him, you see the way his body tenses up again and his hands clench, you realize that he’s not angry at you—he’s angry at himself. The heaviness of his unyielding expectations presses on him. It’s the fear of not being enough, of not meeting the impossibly high standards he’s set for himself.

“It’s okay,” you reassure, offering an understanding smile. "I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… I want you to know that you don’t always have to try so hard." It’s how you say it that’s so simple, but they seem to cut through the tension like a knife. Riddle’s gaze softens ever so slightly, as if he’s allowing himself to let go of the tight grip he’s always kept on everything. He doesn’t respond right away, and you catch a glimpse of something deeper—something he rarely lets anyone see.

You don't push him further; instead, you sit quietly, allowing the moment to settle around you. 

Soft ticking from the clock seems louder than usual, accompanied by gentle rustling of wind outside, branches tapping lightly against the windowpane. A faint scent of tea lingers in the air, mixing with the tranquility around you. The space feels alive with stillness—your breathing, his, the distant hum of life beyond the room—all blending into a peaceful harmony that Riddle isn’t used to. His shoulders relax slightly, though the tension remains in the way he holds his cup, his posture rigid, as though still caught between a desire for order and the acceptance of the present.

Riddle holds his teacup delicately, feeling the warmth seep into his palms. He doesn’t move right away, as if holding the cup has become more of an action than part of his carefully planned routine. His gaze shifts toward you again, but this time, it carries no urgency, only quiet curiosity, as if he's trying to understand something new. His brow furrows slightly, lips pressed together as if grappling with a thought that refuses to come to the surface.

“You know,” he says after a long halt, “I’ve always been so absorbed in my routine that I never really stopped to consider... how others might see things.” He hesitates, his brow furrowing. “I never saw much point in it. Everything had to be exactly where it should be. But now, I think there’s more to it.” His eyes briefly flicker to the teapot, but this time, there’s no urge to adjust it, no need to measure the space between the spout and the edge of the table. He simply lets it be.

You watch him, your smile warm, eyes following the subtle shift in his demeanor. There’s vulnerability in him now, a crack in his polished shell that makes him seem more... human. Despite how small the step seems, you know it’s significant. This isn’t just about a teapot or a cup of tea—it’s about him allowing himself to exist without fearing that even the smallest slip will ruin everything. It feels like the most genuine connection you’ve shared.

“I guess I could stand to be a little more lenient sometimes,” he considers, somewhat willingly, though the thought alone makes his stomach twist. Disorder was something he had always worked to prevent, a disruption he could never fully tolerate. Change had never been Riddle’s strongest suit—acknowledging it was one thing, but acting on it was another entirely. Yet, he must understand that not everyone sees the world as he does.

Unable to resist, you tease him with a playful smile. “A little more lenient? I’ll believe it when I see it. I’m sure your teapot has been perfectly positioned for the next hour, hasn’t it?”

Riddle freezes for a split second, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. “I... I can’t help it if I like things in order,” he stammers, attempting to cover his flustered expression with clearing his throat. You almost laugh, but the sight of him—the way his usual demeanor forfeits—makes you pause. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so unguarded, like he’s letting someone inside without the usual barricades.

Leaning forward slightly, you smirk. “It’s alright, Riddle. I think I’ll enjoy watching you try to let go of some of those... habits.”

A sigh escapes him, this time more in resignation. “I suppose... one could attempt to be a bit more flexible.” His tone softens, though there’s a subtle strain to it, as though admitting this is a minor yet monumental step for him. He doesn’t meet your gaze, but his words hang in the air between you, carrying a hint of vulnerability you never thought he’d show.

A small, satisfied smile tugs at your lips. “Good. You’ll get there eventually.”

Crossing your legs on the chair, you watch as he fiddles with his cup again, a slight tremor in his fingers as he tries to regain his cool. There’s something strangely comforting in the way he does it—like a part of him is still holding on, not quite ready to let go of his habits. The tension remains, but it’s less oppressive now. For once, he isn’t rushing to make everything perfect. In lieu, it feels like he’s taking his time, just a little.

Riddle looks at you again, though his hands still move with a touch more uncertainty. "I don't know how long I'll last," he mutters, half to himself. "But I'll try."

“Good enough for me,” you retort with a wink, glad to see a crack in his carefully constructed walls. "I’ll hold you to it." 

Although Riddle is still not entirely comfortable, there’s a tiny shift in him. He seems to settle into the gentleness of the atmosphere. The weight of the day’s tension slips away, even if just for now. The room no longer feels like a battleground for control—it feels like a place where two people can exist without expectations, without the need for everything to be perfect.

When he speaks again, his voice is grounded with the faintest trace of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Next time, we’ll see how well I manage…. without the rules.”

“Next time?” You raise an eyebrow. “So you’re not throwing out your schedule just yet, huh?”

Riddle’s lips twitch. "One step at a time, of course."

He turns his attention to you, and something shifts in his eyes—like he’s sharing a secret. Then, realizing how rare this is, he looks away quickly. His equanimity returns, though not as fierce as before. It’s better now. More honest.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll manage,” he guarantees, less forced.

You lean back in your chair, the contentment of seeing him take that first step settling in your chest. "I think I’d like to see you try."

At last, it feels like time is finally on both of your sides. The rigidness that once controlled begins to fade, and regardless of the fact you don't expect an overnight change, you sense more serenity. For the first time, Riddle seems to be easing up. And you'll be here to witness it.

© lilipens

[lennadanvers]

Pure Imagination: sitting on top of his amp

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female!Reader

Practice makes perfect. That’s what people say. Eddie thinks practice makes thinks automatic. Boring. He kinda likes the thrill of not being sure if he has what it takes to make it right- he’s used to feeling uncomfortable, on the brink of being not enough.

The rest of Corroded Coffin, on the other hand, enjoy knowing that their next performance will always be the best. And Eddie may think it’s boring to play the same song twenty times in one afternoon, but he loves his friends too much to bail on them.

Besides, now that he can play all the songs even while asleep, he can put his attention somewhere else. To hell with Jeff’s cue. His hands will do what they have to do, right on beat. Meanwhile, his head can focus on more stimulating thoughts.

Like you.

Eddie loves a good audience. And there is no better audience than you. He’d know. You were there once, at the talent show.

He was far less experienced than now. He loved playing the guitar just as much, though. You were in the third or fourth row, not that far from him. Eddie was nervous. You were laughing with your friend, but not at him. When he stepped on stage, you stopped talking and started paying attention. The smile was most likely the remnants of whatever had made you laugh earlier, but Eddie likes to lie to himself and believe it was for him.

When he started playing, you didn’t look away from him once. He supposes it would’ve defeated the purpose of a show, but still. His fingers felt your eyes. His arm. His neck, his cheeks. Eddie hoped you’d think the blush was because of the heat from the lights and not because of you. To this day, he’s a little ashamed you saw him with the buzz cut.

He doesn’t regret it, though, because you made him feel important.

Eddie wants to return the favor. That’s why he plays looking at the amp. It’s easy to picture you there. Back in high school, he noticed you like to sit on furniture. The art class tables, the kitchen counter at someone’s house party… And his amp, hopefully.

He starts playing and the beat paints you there. You’re sitting crisscross, hands on your knees. Eddie improvises a little and your fingers follow, little taps that echo his heartbeat. He shakes his hair and you laugh, and he’s happy. Truly, really happy. Who cares if he’s trapped in a dark garage. Who cares if no one will really appreciate his art when they play at the Hideout. Eddie, for once, doesn’t give a crap.

He can still pretend you’ll catch his guitar pick. He can convince himself you’ll keep it in your wallet for good luck, or that you’ll make it into a necklace. Eddie can convince himself you’ll keep a piece of his music hanging next to your heart. It’s easy to believe a part of him will always be warm, on top of your skin, under your t-shirt in a space that is exclusively yours.

It feels natural to be exclusively yours. His music is. His inspiration, too.

If Gareth wants to play another million times the same song they already perfected, great. Amazing. Eddie will happily take any chance to play for you.

A/N: me?? Posting Pure Imagination again?? Who is this diva?! Sabrina said "short and sweet" so that's what I did. I won't let this series die- instead I'll drag the suffering for as long as possible (that is to say it's taking longer than expected to finish). Anyway, hope you like it! If you want me to add you to the taglist, just comment or send an ask.

Btw, I used dividers for the first time to introduce a new series (The Heartbreak Chronicles, in case you want to check it out), and I was thinking maybe I should find a divider for this one too. Maybe something Alice in Wonderland related? Or just Eddie in general? Pls let me know if you have any suggestions.

Masterlist here

Taglist: @whataboutbibi , @hellfirenacht , @daisyridleyss

[awwyeah107]

2024 Fic Recs

Hello and welcome to my fic recs from 2024 post :)

Like in 2023, the vast majority of fanfiction I read has been Tolkien-centric; my hyperfixation is still going strong, lol. I also got into Longmire (the TV show; I haven’t read the books yet), so there’s a handful of Longmire fanfics in here too. And as I said last year, buckle up, because it’s a pretty long post (this one’s got roughly 80 fics, not counting series!).

For each fic, I’ll give a one-sentence summary and then my thoughts on the fic! I’ll also mention whether the fic is a oneshot, doubleshot (2 chapters), or a multi-chapter fic, as well as the fic rating. I’m sorting the Tolkien fics into series, topic-based, character/time/place-focused, AUs & others, and then I’ll put the non-Tolkien fics at the end. I am including in-progress fics in each of those categories.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the galaxy banners used to separate the sections :)

Intro: What to Expect & Fics Legend

Expect: Lots of angst—LOTS of it. I didn’t realize how much there was until I went back through all of these! Also a bunch of fluff and hurt/comfort. Majority of fics are genfic. Mostly Silmfics; some Lord of the Rings and/or Hobbit characters are featured. Most fics are rated T, with a few rated G or M.

Do not expect: Stories with a focus on romantic!Russingon (or any other first cousins x cousins ships), smut, or excessively gory or dark stories. No E-rated fics.

Notes about formatting: Sometimes, the bullet points may be spaced out a little strangely; that’s because Tumblr won’t actually tag more than 5 people at once in a set of bullet points, so I have to space them out in order for people to get tagged properly. When a fic has quotation marks around the summary, that means it’s taken straight from the summary of the fic. Occasionally, I’ll consider a fic to be rated differently for my personal taste than it’s marked on AO3, and in those cases I will mention that. For example: G [AO3 rating] / T [personal rating]. Otherwise, ratings are from AO3.

Fics Legend/Key These emojis are used to denote any stories that have the following elements, and I’ll do my best to put appropriate warnings/mentions of certain potentially triggering topics as well, when needed. Most if not all the stories do have necessary tags or content warnings given by the author, so if I miss something, the author and/or the fic tags should tell you about it. My apologies if I do miss anything.

🔒 Fic only available to AO3 users

🩸 Features somewhat shocking or graphic violence and/or heavy topics (including abuse, severe trauma, mental illness, etc.)

*️⃣ Features background romantic!Russingon or other cousin ships

🏳️‍🌈 Features LGBTQ+/queer ships and/or characters (for those who do or do not prefer to read fics with queer ships/characters. If you have any questions about this, feel free to send me a DM.)

✍️ Fic is in progress/incomplete

Also, this may go without saying, but I feel like it does need saying: Your mileage may vary with these fics, especially those that are not particularly fluffy. So, read what you’re comfortable with, and don’t read or skip what you aren’t.

I will tag authors who are here on Tumblr; I've included multiple fics by the same authors, so I will only tag each author once.

To all the fic authors, people posting meta/analyses, and fan artists: Thank you for sharing your work with the world. Your stories, musings, and art have brought me a lot of joy (and frequently, encouragement) this past year, and it’s still kinda crazy to me that I can read or see it for free. Because you loved canon enough to make something from it, and you wanted to share the results of that love with others. Thank you. ❤️

Series

Annaáuchiwee by @thegreenleavesofspring (Brievel on AO3) & The_Anonymous_Coauthor 🩸✍️ - [Modern AU] The story of how a biker thug scrapes a street rat up off the street and discovers, for the first time in thirty years, that he has a conscience, which leads him halfway across the country and into a lifestyle of love and sacrifice that he had long forsworn. (In-progress series of 4 works, multi-chapters, T) Y’all. Y’all. I cannot recommend this series enough. If you follow my sideblog, @fandomsandfairytales, you have almost certainly seen me posting about this over there. This series is essentially set in the Sons of the Star universe, which is a “sons of Fëanor as a biker gang” modern AU, but it’s a step to the left of that AU. Annaáuchiwee is focused on the modern equivalent of Celegorm, named Riser Way, and his journey (both literal and figurative) to become an honorable man. I absolutely adore the characters and writing in this series. There’s so much: humor (and lots of it), angst (and lots of that too), violence, domestic fluff, thoughtful moments, and so much character growth. I get excited every time I see an update in my inbox! (Warning: The series features a fair amount of violence, and it deals with heavy topics, including trafficking, rape, and child abuse.)

On Elrond Peredhel by @elvinye (leodesic on AO3) ️*️⃣ 🏳️‍🌈 (Russingon + biological son Gil-Galad; prominent in one work) ✍️ - "A series examining Elrond's kidnap-adoption [and Elrond himself] from a variety of different characters’ perspectives." (In-progress series of 13 works, oneshots and doubleshots, all rated T or G.) I enjoy reading lots of different perspectives on kidnap fam, and I love how this series explores a huge spectrum of characters’ reactions to a very Noldorin Elrond. It’s so well-written and gives me major Elrond feels. Seeing Elrond through so many different lenses is really cool; I think leodesic does a great job handling each character’s inner narrative and also showing Elrond as a kind and caring yet assertive individual, no matter what that character thinks of him. If you are into pro-Fëanorian kidnap fam, you’ll like this series!

Quenta Nossëo by HonoraryDawn ✍️ - Elrond accidentally travels through time and space and arrives in Valinor just in time for Fëanor’s birth in the Years of the Trees; Elrond decides to change history and raise Fëanáro himself. (In-progress series of 2 works, multi-chapters, T) This is such a cool series! I love how it changes history, and all the twists and turns throughout! Nature vs. nurture is a key theme in Fëanor being raised by someone other than Finwë, and Fëanor’s development and the way tensions rise differently in Valinor in the Years of the Trees are fascinating. Highly recommend! (I also recommend Fanarts for Preventative Measures by Leira_E, which has several pieces of fan art and fan-written blurbs for the first installment in this series.)

Horrible Goose Fingon by @pearlescentpearl (PandaFlower on AO3) - Fingon, having experienced life in Beleriand, wakes up in the Years of the Trees Valinor and immediately decides to make it Morgoth’s problem. (In-progress series of 2 works, oneshots and multi-chapters, all rated T or G.) Fingon hits the ground running here, and his quick deductions and planning are so much fun to read! I enjoyed his interactions with Maedhros and with Ingwë’s family, and I’m looking forward to more.

Topic-Based

Post-Thangorodrim

I went through a period of time where I was really into rescue-from-Thangorodrim and post-Thangorodrim fics, so here are my top Maedhros-Thangorodrim-trauma recs from this year!

The Shackle by @valarhalla (Elisif on AO3) 🩸 - Fingon rescues Maedhros from the cliff of Thangorodrim. (Oneshot, M) This fic was exactly what I was looking for when I was craving a rescue-from-Thangorodrim fic!!! Masterfully written. It really depicted the sort of state Mae would have been in, neglected and hanging from the cliff as he was. The entire thing is SO angsty and incredibly heartrending and I loved it. (Warning: Graphic descriptions of injury, bodily fluids, and the effects of an extended period of physical neglect.)

Open Wounds by @markedasinfernal (theeventualwinner on AO3)🩸*️⃣ - “Maedhros' post-Thangorodrim recovery.” (12 chapters, M) I devoured this fic over two days and oh my goodness. What an amazingly well-written piece. I loveddddd all of the medical terminology and the very analytical (though never at the cost of emotional, or vice versa!) way Maedhros’ healing was approached. There’s so much angst and tension amongst the rest of the sons of Fëanor and Fingon as well, yet it is borne out of care for Maedhros, and that care is shown very clearly in all their interactions with Maedhros himself. The richness of the relationships in this fic is really beautiful. (Note: Any Russingon in this fic is very, very lightly implied. Warning: Descriptions of injury, physical trauma, and PTSD.)

Whoops, They’re Both Asleep by until_the_stars_are_all_alight - Findékano comes to visit Maitimo when he hears his cousin wanted “Káno” and finds Makalaurë [Kanáfinwë] is already there. (Oneshot, T) A short, absolutely adorable oneshot! It’s only 350 words, but everything is so well-portrayed: the tension between Fingon and Maglor, the way Maedhros is dealing with his recovery, the affection he has for both his brother and cousin. I’ve reread it a few times now and I love it more every time.

No Resemblance by Elisif - Nolofinwë struggles to recognise his nephew after his rescue from Angband. (2 chapters, incomplete, T) This is SO PAINFUL and angsty and so good. From Fingolfin barely recognizing Maedhros for who he was (when Fingon brought him back) to all the memories of young Maedhros in Valinor, it’s shot through with feelssssss.

Dawn by potatoesanddreams - Maedhros’ first sight of the Sun. (Oneshot, T) A proper drabble clocking in at 100 words. I really enjoyed this one—I was fascinated by the second person point of view for Maedhros! The descriptions are so evocative and eloquent.

More About the Things that You Take With by @imnotdyingbutyouallare - Maedhros struggles with Maglor cutting his hair. (Oneshot, T) There is so much gentleness in this fic despite how much Maedhros is still suffering, and so much awareness of each other on both Maglor and Maedhros’ parts, which I loved. Even a “simple” thing such as cutting Maedhros’ hair is difficult for him, and I could really feel the fragility of Maedhros’ state of mind throughout. So, so good!!!

breakdown by @leucisticpuffin 🔒 - Maglor breaks down and Maedhros struggles to comfort him. (Oneshot, T) Oh my goodness, ugh. This is soooo painful and I love it. I feel terribly for Maglor, and for Maedhros feeling so helpless. What an angsty vignette of their relationship in the immediate aftermath of Maedhros’ rescue.

Let them see! by BarbieBlue - Maglor attempts to console Maedhros in a difficult moment during Maedhros’ recovery. (Oneshot, T) I loved reading this fic! I felt the acute frustration on Maedhros’ part that he can do so little and Maglor’s intense guilt. Maglor’s compassion and determination to prove to his brother that he cares is very compelling. (Fingon’s bewilderment at the end is rather hilarious, too.)

Us Against the World by @annoyinglandmagazine (Caranthirwasalesbian on AO3) - It’s the first feast after Maedhros’ recovery, and he realizes only having one hand makes table manners difficult. (Oneshot, G) To me, this fic really demonstrates how much the sons of Fëanor care for each other, and I simply adore it. It’s a beautiful picture of love on a practical level.

Crablor

Oneshots of our favorite singing elf-turned-crustacean, Crablor!

Soft-Shelled Soul by @thescrapwitch (theScrap_Witch on AO3) 🔒 - Maedhros learns from Námo that his brother has been transformed into a crab, and he is determined to find him and bring him home. (Oneshot, G) I really enjoyed this lovely Crablor story! I loved the fact that it was Maedhros and Celegorm who found Maglor—it makes perfect sense to not only have Maedhros, the caring older brother, searching but also Celegorm, the one who knows animal languages. Everything back in Valinor (the reactions! Maglor’s new living space!) are wonderful, too.

The Trial of Crablor Fëanorion by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - Maglor, in crab form, is put on trial for his crimes. (Oneshot, G) This fic could very well go in my humor section as well as the Crablor section. I found myself laughing throughout, and even typing this I’m smiling just thinking about it. The format of a court trial record is delightful, along with all the shenanigans included for the sake of the record!

lured to be loved by LadyHaleth - Elladan and Elrohir search for their long-lost grandfather…who they discover has been turned into a different form. (Oneshot, T) A sweet adventure! Elladan and Elrohir’s dedication to finding and caring for Maglor is so admirable, and I enjoyed their dynamic as twins and with Maglor. The details in every scene really make this fic! (And don’t miss the awesome art in the middle, since the art and fic were one of the TRSB collabs for this year.)

Humor

to speak, to scream and laugh with the echo by @artandsuffering (Tamatoa (SaltandtheSoul) on AO3) - When Maglor wakes up in the past after the Fourth Age, he decides to make it Sauron’s problem. (Oneshot, T) This fic is SO FREAKING FUNNY. The understated humor in this is incredible, and I love the phrasing throughout. The framing of the atmosphere of Angband as a corporate workplace of sorts (while still being fully in Middle-Earth, of course) simply makes this fic.

This Battle Could Have Been An E-mail by @tilion-writes (Tilion on AO3) ✍️ - A series of emails in Maedhros’ inbox throughout the ages. (4 chapters, in progress, T) INCREDIBLY hilarious. The email addresses, the domains for the email addresses (nargothrond.com! himring.net!), the email sign-offs for each of the characters, the subject lines, the files, the messages (including punctuation and tone of professionalism, or lack thereof) from each character—all of it was priceless.

Please Do Not by @mynameisjessejk - “In which Maedhros has all the foresight of the House of Feanaro and uses it entirely to prevent brother and cousin shenanigans.” (Oneshot, bullet-point, T) This fic is absolutely hysterical. I probably broke something trying so hard not to laugh (I was reading this when there were people around). The phrase “the transitive property of Finrod” still lives rent-free in my head months after I read it XD This fic also turned out to be really heartwarming and gave me many feels. So, so, so good.

How Dare by @catkin-morgs-kookaburralover (ATalkingCat on AO3) - The palantir experiences Pippin picking it up. (Oneshot, G) I laughed out loud multiple times reading this. It’s a short, delightful read with a VERY snarky palantir point of view, and I highly enjoyed it!

Give A Whistle by Prackspoor - “After the sacking of Ost-in-Edhil, the Dark Lord Sauron ordered his prisoners crucified and carried at the head of his army as banners so that their approach would strike fear into the hearts of his enemies; no one could have imagined that the last resistance of the Elven City had no plans to go out quietly… literally.” (Oneshot, T) A VERY humorous, somewhat dark oneshot (with a second chapter solely for references). It’s very Monty-Python-esque, with some direct Monty Python references, so if you enjoy that sort of humor, this will be right up your alley. The sympathetic orc captain point of view is fantastic! (Warning: There’s a few dark mentions/descriptions of torture.)

Romance-focused

Tax Fraud and Picnics by @thesummerestsolstice - Haleth and baby Erestor convince Caranthir to go on a picnic. (Oneshot, G) I’ve got three words for this fic: SUPER. DUPER. CUTE. This fic is as sweet as candy. I adore how much Caranthir loves Haleth, and the light humor sprinkled throughout made me grin (the Caranthir-Turgon arguments over taxes will never not be funny to me).

Mending by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - “Caranthir sits by Haleth’s side as she dies and thinks of his family, his life, and his craft.” (Oneshot, T) Very sweet! I loved how the story wove Caranthir’s memories into the present day (pun very much intended), and his love for his craft is so beautiful. I also really enjoyed the visitors at the end :)

Your Eyes Are Like Knives (And I Really Like Knives) by @sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) - Haleth knows that Caranthir is hiding something, and she is determined to find out what it is. (Oneshot, T) I saw that this fic was going to be part of TRSB 2024 a few days before the fics all got released, and I was so excited to read it! I had a fantastic time eagerly devouring it with much excitement and laughter, and as per usual, I thoroughly enjoyed Haleth flustering Caranthir.

Yours Dearly, Most Sincerely by Drag0nst0rm - “Five times Nerdanel had to help Feanaro write a letter, and one time he returned the favor. (And two times they had to write a letter alone.)” (Doubleshot, T) This fic both filled me up with the love Fëanor and Nerdanel had for each other (and their sons!) and ripped me to pieces with angst. The way Nerdanel often balances out Fëanor’s fiery spirit when it comes to composing a letter—and the way he chooses to listen to her!—is wonderful to read; the scene with the third letter practically gave me a heart attack from how adorably fluffy it was. Of course, this makes it all the more heartbreaking when they are apart. A very emotional read all around!

Breaking Into Light by @starspray ✍️ - Glingaereth happens to meet Fingon, the crown prince of the Noldor, and the two begin to take an interest in each other. (4 chapters, in progress, T) I haven’t read any Fingon x OFC fics before, and I really liked this one! Glingaereth and the other original characters stand well on their own, and the chemistry between Glingaereth and Fingon feels natural. I also liked the outside perspectives of the Noldor royal family and the uneasiness amongst the Sindar about the sense of doom following the Noldor.

Nothing in the World is Single by StarSpray - Eärendil and Elwing become friends…and then more. (5 chapters, T [AO3 rating] / G [personal rating]) This is so sweet! I really enjoyed this fic—the easy pacing, Eärendil’s friendly nature, and Elwing’s more reserved personality all combine to make a great read. The descriptions are wonderful, and I liked Eärendil and Elwing’s adventures.

Character, Time, or Place-Focused

Kidnap Fam

What matters is ‘you’ and not the state of you. by @havenotwillnotreadthebooks (EclecticKefi on AO3) - “Maglor contemplates the Peredhel that he and his brother have taken in, then contemplates the effect of this new life on Maedhros.” (Doubleshot, T) This was such an enjoyable read! I loved reading Maglor’s reflections, especially on Maedhros as a father figure to Elrond and Elros. I also enjoyed reading how the twins’ nature as peredhel (and being somewhat eldritch to boot) affects their domestic life with Maglor and Maedhros.

I keep my enemies closer than the mirror ever gets to me by EclecticKefi 🔒 - Elrond and Elros hide in Maglor’s closet and overhear Maedhros and Maglor talking. (Oneshot, T) This fic is both heartbreaking and heartwarming in multiple ways. The two peredhel have seen far too much trauma and suffering in their young lives, but their empathy is really sweet. Also, I’m always a fan of eldritch!peredhel, so I liked the notes of that scattered throughout the story.

On Monsters and Lullabies by Tilion - Maglor is the one the twins like, not Maedhros, and Maglor confronts his brother. (Oneshot, T) I will never tire of the angstiness of Maedhros and Maglor arguing over the twins and the role they play in their lives, nor how Maedhros becomes someone the twins can trust. Maglor’s softness with the twins is so sweet (baby Elrond and Elros are ADORABLE), and the reflections (both Maglor’s and Maedhros’) on how much Maedhros had changed since being in Valinor are really well-written.

And Love Grew by @polutrope (polutropos on AO3) ✍️ - Maedhros and Maglor deal with the aftermath of their attack on Sirion, and Maglor leads their host—including two young peredhel and their caretaker—to Amon Ereb. (6 chapters, in progress, T) A wonderfully complex, angsty, deeply woven tale. Every character and relationship has so many layers, and polutropos does a great job of exploring the darkness of the Oath and the ripple affect it has on the sons of Fëanor, their followers, and the people of Sirion.

And when we’re in the dark, it echoes in your heart by ElectricKefi - Elros unintentionally triggers Maedhros’ Sauron-related trauma. (Oneshot, T) Poor Maedhros AND poor Elros! The idea that the peredhel with Maia blood would bring back Maedhros’ memories of being tortured by Sauron—especially when Elros is trying to help him—is so sad. I loved the instantly-on-alert Maglor who is there to de-escalate the situation, too.

though the shadow closes in by millyfaraway - Maglor and Maedhros strategize to keep Elrond and Elros safe. (Oneshot, T) I really like the dialogue and OCs in this one! The discussion of Sauron and Morgoth’s desire for the peredhel, the plans to keep moving, and the connection Maedhros and Maglor share all flow quite well.

First Age Beleriand

Finwëons & Fëanorians:

Mind the Gap by Tilion - Maglor visits Himring. (Oneshot, T) Loved reading this!! Great characterization of both the characters themselves and their relationship. They are SUCH siblings in this, and I really enjoyed reading them snarking at each other and checking up on each other and seeking to ensure all was truly well. I’ll also never pass up a scene with Maglor braiding Maedhros’ hair.

The Light Behind Your Eyes by Tilion ✍️ - Scenes of Maglor and Maedhros after Thangorodrim. (2 chapters, in progress, T) I love how beautifully this portrays Maglor and Maedhros’ relationship. It balances the past and the present really well. Even though Maedhros is still clearly suffering from his time in Angband, this fic has a calm tone to it, and I can see the healing taking place in Maedhros’ spirit. A lovely read.

Scribbles and Squabbles by @dreamingthroughthenoise (Alantie on AO3) 🔒 - An argument between the Fëanorians, through letters. (7 chapters, T) This was a delight to read! Humorous at times, and heartfelt at others. I could pick up on the underlying hurt and desire to be seen that sparked the argument, and the love and care rising from the letters as things resolved. (The very clear and present sass was quite fun, too.)

Gingerbread Cookies by Elisif - Aredhel and Fingon supervise Idril and Tyelpë while they make Christmas cookies. (Oneshot, G) This is such an adorable fic—tiny Idril and Celebrimbor are so cute, and I loved Aredhel and Fingon’s brother-sister relationship. Their interactions have such fond sibling energy!

A Mere Shadow by Elisif - Maglor comes to visit Maedhros and is reminded of Thingol’s Quenya ban. (Oneshot, T) So good and so sad! I could immediately feel the shift in Maglor’s mood when Maedhros inadvertently reminds him of the ban, and the sorrow oozing from both brothers, as if from a wound.

the raging storm of a foreign war, and a face i'd seen before by @arafinweanappreciation (TelerinJedi on AO3) - Finarfin comes to Beleriand. (Oneshot, T) This fic is short yet so expressive!! I love Finarfin seeing Tol Sirion and him talking about avenging his son in such a terrifyingly calm manner.

Ill-Tidings by TheScrap_Witch 🔒 - Maedhros brings news to Curufin that Nargothrond has fallen. (Oneshot, T) Poor Curufin 😭 This fic has all the dad!Curufin feels!!!! Curufin’s humanity (or elvish equivalent, lol) shines through in this fic in his anguish over his son. His grief and rage are so palpable (and so well-written!).

Too Big, Too Heavy by @hwestalas - Maedhros visits the new High King of the Noldor after the Dagor Bragollach. (Oneshot, T) Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Fingon’s grief over Fingolfin is so raw and real, and I love how he tries to keep it together but fails in the face of Maedhros’ calm, devoted friendship. Such a great read.

ever an anguish that pursued by @thelordofgifs (TheChasm on AO3) 🩸 - Maglor tries to save Maedhros from the fire, but he keeps waking up. (Oneshot, T) UGH SO ANGSTY. So so angsty. All of the “what if”s that Maglor dreams could have happened are so terribly sad, because he can see so many ways out that don’t involve Maedhros jumping into the chasm. (Warning: suicide and multiple near-suicide attempts.)

stone on the board by @dalliansss - The Finwëons play games with politics in Beleriand at Mithrim. (Oneshot, T) So good! Love the politicking going on in this fic, primarily between Maedhros and Finrod. Quite an intriguing read.

there's no timer on grief 🔒 by Kat_isaconfusedbean - After Losgar, Amras mourns. (Oneshot, T) This is SO painful. Especially for how short this fic is. My heart aches for Amras (and for Celegorm). I love Celegorm coming to comfort his brother, along with Huan.

Unrepentent by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - Maedhros will not give up on obtaining the last Silmarils. (Oneshot, T) The Oath has Maedhros in its grip so tightly in this fic (along with his own memories and experiences), and it’s horrifying yet understandable to see him act and think the way he does. I love the dynamic between Maedhros and Maglor in this fic, too.

the ways of birds by @welcomingdisaster (welcoming_disaster on AO3) - “When Maglor is captured in the aftermath of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, he doesn't expect a rescue. (for the prompts maglor + maedhros + "need to keep quiet" & "roadside wound tending.”)” (Oneshot, T) SO MUCH MAGLOR WHUMP. And so much tension, too. I could really feel Maglor’s raw, gritty pain and the ugly experiences he endured. It made the comfort part of “hurt/comfort” that much more relieving when he was, indeed, rescued.

Non-Finwëons:

Mad, Not Angry by AfricanDaisy - Young Thranduil is woken from a thunderstorm, and searches for a source of comfort: his father. (Oneshot, G) SO so cute! I could really feel Thranduil’s panic in searching for Oropher, and then his simultaneous relief and upset when he did find him. The descriptions are vivid and well-crafted, very fun to read!

no vela, no orion by TelerinJedi - A comment from Andreth’s sister causes her to wonder if she is in love with Nóm (or vice versa), and it is harder to have a discussion with him about this than she thinks. (Oneshot, G) The adolescent awkwardness and embarrassment in this fic brings me back to my teenage days XD This is really sweet though, truly. A light bit of fluff!

Second and Third Age Middle-Earth

living arrows sent forth by @balrogballs (timelessutterances on AO3) - Thranduil and Elrond discuss fatherhood at Arwen and Aragorn’s wedding reception. (Oneshot, T) SO. SO. GOOD. I seriously love the phrasing in this one, as well as Thranduil’s and Elrond’s characterizations, their long-held opinions and memories of each other, and their discussion of parenthood. Thranduil is so snarky and Elrond so earnest. Phenomenal all the way through.

rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated by @lighttrls (thunder_and_stars on AO3) - Unaware of elves’ habit of sleeping with their eyes open, Estel finds Elladan unmoving with his eyes open and thinks he must be dead. (Oneshot, T) POOR BABY ESTEL aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. The angst is off the charts in this one; my heart was breaking for tiny Aragorn. I was so glad that his assumption was corrected, in the end.

i'm fine, i prom- by thunder_and_stars - Elladan and Estel are captured by orcs and tortured. (Oneshot, T) Oh my goodness, I wanted to kill each and every orc right along with Elladan. The descriptions of the orcs’ actions, their impact on Estel physically, and the impact on Elladan emotionally were so vivid. It’s some good, heavy whump (with some comfort at the end).

sticks and stones may break my bones by thunder_and_stars - Some people don’t like the fact that Estel lives with the elves. (Oneshot, T) Once again, right there with one of the twins on wanting to beat up people for mistreating Estel. The way Estel tried to hide his injuries and then admitted what happened and what was said and done to him was so sad. Lots of hurt/comfort here.

A Long Way To Go In The Morning by @nocompromise-noregrets (likethenight on AO3) 🔒 - “The night before the Fellowship of the Ring leaves Rivendell, Elladan and Elrohir give Aragorn some encouragement.” (Oneshot, T) I really enjoyed this one! Elladan and Elrohir are such good brothers to Aragorn, and the way they lifted his spirits was really sweet. I liked the discussion of mortality as well as the hopefulness that the twins had about the Quest and Aragorn’s success.

Advice Unlooked For by sehellys - Aragorn talks to Elladan and Elrohir when they return from the Wild, and then he goes to the Feast in the Hall of Fire. (Oneshot, T) The descriptions in this one are simply beautiful—and so is the dialogue! I loved the shift from serious to “shenanigans mode” after the twins update Aragorn on what’s going on in the outside world.

Re-embodiment in Valinor

Red, Red Moon (Keep On Rising) by Tilion 🏳️‍🌈 (Celegorm/Oromë features somewhat prominently, especially in the back half) - Celegorm wakes up outside Mandos with two silver-haired elflings and no memories; he sets off to bring the boys to their parents and figure out his identity. (24 chapters, T) This was such a fun fic to keep up with as it got updates! Celegorm and the twins (kidnap fam 2.0, one might say) were incredibly adorable. I loved Legolas and Tauriel’s inclusion, and I highly enjoyed the whole identity crisis Celegorm went through (seriously, it was awesome). Celegorm feels SO Celegorm to me in this fic: cocky, rough around the edges, more caring than he’d like to admit. Overall there’s so much to this fic, and the twists and turns kept me on the edge of my seat.

Hemlock and Niphredil by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - “In Fourth Age Valinor, Elrond and Thingol connect over a shared love of gardening and grief for their daughters.” (Oneshot, T) I had never really thought about Elrond and Thingol’s similarities before this fic, and I loved getting to read them interacting and forming a friendship! Both have lost daughters by the choice to give up immortality, yet they have quite different personalities (and a complicated family tree), and it’s beautiful to see them connect through their shared experiences. (It’s also interesting to read Thingol portrayed in a more sympathetic light than most fics—yet not without his imperfections, certainly.)

Memento Vivere (Remember, You Must Live) by Drag0nst0rm - “Maedhros and Maglor have a long overdue discussion of what happened at the edge of that chasm - and what happened after.” (Oneshot, T) UGH so GOOD and so ANGSTY. There are so many emotional beats in this fic, and I found myself bracing for each one. I painfully love Maglor’s instincts when it comes to protecting/taking care of Maedhros after all these years, and how he doesn’t want the people he loves to be hurt because of him—though he has been in so much pain himself, and Maedhros sees that. Really, really good. (Warning: Discussion of suicide.)

White Water Flowing by StarSpray ✍️ - In Valinor and homesick for Imladris, Celebrían decides to build a new one. (6 chapters, in progress, T) This is such a lovely fic!! I’ve really enjoyed reading it. I love Celebrían’s characterization—many people underestimate her, and it’s wonderful to see her bloom after healing in Lórien. She simultaneously has a gentle soul and an admirable tenacity and drive. I also love reading her interacting with members of Elrond’s family and seeing how those relationships develop.

Handle with Care by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - “When Fëanor left the Halls of the Dead, he did not expect Mahtan to be the one waiting for him.” (Oneshot, T) I loved this!!! I don’t see a lot of Mahtan and Fëanor interactions, and I really enjoyed reading their conversation. (I grinned at Mahtan telling Fëanor off about Nerdanel. I haven’t seen that before and I’ve really wanted to, so it was quite satisfying.) It’s clear that they both carry a lot of grief, and they have a familiar relationship underpinning everything.

From Ruins We Grow by TheScrap_Witch 🔒✍️ - Fëanor learns how to live again (and how to garden!) when he is returned to life and placed under Yavanna’s responsibility to tend a small corner of Valinor. (7 chapters, in progress, T) I get so excited whenever I see an update for this fic in my inbox! There’s so much feeling in this fic, which is very fitting for Fëanáro’s fiery, intense character. It’s in turns amusing and exasperating to see him humbled by learning a new craft, yet I always find myself rooting for him in his endeavors. I love the relationships he forms with the visitors to his garden, and all the sweet memories of his sons practically make my heart melt.

AUs

In-Universe AUs

An Unexpected Rescue by SpaceWall - Fëanor realizes that someone has taken on the form of his half-brother Fingolfin, and that the real Fingolfin has disappeared. (Doubleshot, T) This is SUCH a cool AU!!! I really enjoyed reading this one. I love Fëanor’s insistence on figuring out what happened and finding Fingolfin, though of course in denial that he cares for his brother deep down. I’d say more but I don’t want to spoil it!

Will You Greet the Daylight Looming? by Tilion - Maglor persuades Maedhros to live. (Oneshot, T) Oh, this fic is terribly, delightfully angsty. I love how Maglor and Maedhros’ relationship is portrayed here, and the vivid imagery really brings it to life. Lots of thee/thou and ‘dearest’ language, too!

Reforged by theScrap_Witch 🔒🩸🏳️‍🌈 (background Celebrimbor/Gil-Galad) - Maeglin survives the fall of Gondolin, and Celebrimbor and others help him to find his way to healing. (20 chapters, G [AO3 rating] / T [personal rating]) What a story. Just—what a story. It takes you on a rollercoaster of emotion and growth and change and just, wow. I am so freaking proud of Maeglin in this fic, and I love his characterization. He digs his claws into life and doesn’t let go, and it’s incredible to see his transformation over the course of centuries. I also loved the inclusion of many other Second and Third Age characters in this story and how Maeglin’s life becomes intertwined with theirs. This fic is angsty and agonizing on so many levels, but it is fiercely emotional and cathartic in good ways too. I really enjoyed getting to follow along with this fic as it was published!

Scion of Mystery by Tilion 🏳️‍🌈 (minor Erestor/Curufin) - Elrond is determined to uncover Gil-galad’s true parentage. (7 chapters, T) Absolutely BUCK WILD Gil-Galad theory. Complete and total plot twist that I did NOT see coming until a few sentences before it was revealed!! Elrond’s shenanigans along the way to uncover Gil-Galad’s parentage were so much fun to read. Features kidnap fam and Celrond, along with other Fëanorians.

Parley AUs This is a subset of in-universe AUs where someone other than Maedhros gets taken at the parley with Morgoth. Apparently this was the year for me to get into parley AUs, and it even inspired me to write my own, lol!

The Price We Pay by theScrap_Witch 🔒🩸 - “In which Makalaurë goes to parlay with Morgoth, Findekáno still performs his dramatic rescue, and Maitimo struggles with both his little brother’s recovery and his responsibilities as king.” (Oneshot, T) This fic yanked out my heart and stomped on it and then tossed it off a cliff for good measure. I’ve read a few different Maglor-is-taken-at-the-parley fics, but oh boy, this one poured on the FEELS. Everything in this fic is heartbreaking—from Maglor’s belief that he is a “pretty bird” meant to sing to Morgoth, to Maedhros’ distrust/fear of Fingolfin, to all of Maglor’s brothers’ pain over his traumatized state—yet there is an undercurrent of hope that slowly rises throughout the story. It’s so well-written, and I highly, highly recommend it.

Despair Like Poison by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - “Thinking that he’s protecting his family, Maedhros rides to the parlay alone, unaware that Morgoth has a different trick in mind.” (Oneshot, bullet-point, T) Sooooo so angsty!! I really can’t say much about this without spoilers, but aaaaaaaaa. Maedhros is firm about his decision to go, but he’s so gentle with his brothers at the moment of departure, which makes what happens after so much worse.

A Crown of Bones by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - Maitimo and Makalaurë are taken in the parley with Morgoth, and Tyelkormo must take up the crown. (Oneshot, T) I really liked this AU! Celegorm has a lot to deal with here, both in being the oldest Fëanorion and being king of their people. The reminder that he can handle himself in political situations and display his power in words—not just physical action—is fantastic, and the way he cares so deeply for his younger brothers and misses his oldest two is heartwrenching.

Boldness Be My Friend by @a-tehta (tehta on AO3) - Celegorm has been captured by Morgoth, and it is up to Aredhel and Huan to rescue him from the cliff of Thangorodrim. (Oneshot, T) This one is surprisingly humorous for being a rescue-from-Thangorodrim fic, yet also sweet! I really loved getting a Huan POV (so cool), and I enjoyed Aredhel getting to be the rescuer. (There is a bit of implied future Celegorm/Aredhel at the end, but it’s mostly, if not entirely, played for humor.)

Modern AUs

Little Stars, Little Souls by Tamatoa (SaltandtheSoul) - Fëanor looks for his second son, who is dressed up for Halloween. (Oneshot, G) SUPER. CUTE. This is some of the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff and I was just gobbling it up. Baby Maglor is the cutest thing and I love Fëanor as a dad here.

the adventures of Elf Guy by red_01 - “A group of friends obsessed with The Silmarillion discovers a guy who bears a resemblance to Maglor—and uncover the truth.” (Oneshot, T) This was so much fun to read (and highly amusing)! The Twitter format was a great choice, and I’m impressed by the dedication to it. I enjoyed the back-and-forth chaos, internet-typical keysmashes and all caps, and references to artists in the Tolkien fandom (e.g., Clamavi de Profundis, “Phobs-style” cosplays).

Cookies by Brievel 🔒 - Girl Scouts visit the Ways’ house. (Oneshot, G) This absolutely delighted me. I love everything about it—the POV of the girl scouts, the way they were all intimidated by Max, a cameo by Nell, Birdie yelling for cookies in the background. It’s so sweet and made me grin so much.

Valentines Flowers by Brievel 🔒 - “Max brings Misty flowers.” (Oneshot, G) Max and Misty are just straight-up ADORABLE. The way they interact and how they familiar they are with each other’s habits shows how comfortable they are with each other. They both are down so bad, and I love to see it. I also love to see Max doing something nice for Misty :)

Other Tolkien Fics

These are fics that didn’t fit into any other category or had less than three fics within each category.

Miscellaneous:

The War of the Ring by @winterinhimring (morwen_of_gondor on AO3) - The sons of Fëanor are re-embodied and sent to Middle-Earth to atone for their crimes during the Third Age when the Quest for the Ring begins. (42 chapters, T) PSA: if you’ve read The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings, you must read this. Required reading. I am only very slightly joking. This story is absolutely PHENOMENAL. I was curious to see what the sons of Fëanor joining the Fellowship would be like, and I was blown away by how beautifully written it is. Y’all. It’s written in the style of The Lord of the Rings books. Like, legitimately. I never knew how much I needed to see the Fëanorions interacting with the hobbits, or showing the strength of ancient Valinorian-born elves in battle, and it all being written in true Tolkienian style is so incredibly wonderful. I can’t recommend this enough.

Joys to Come by @darkfrozenabyss - “Glorfindel, from Tirion to Rivendell.” (7 chapters, T) Loved this fic!!! I love darkfrozenabyss’ characterization of Glorfindel so much. There are so many emotionally powerful, simple and sweet, and feels-inducing moments in this story, and I really enjoyed Glorfindel’s family and how close he is with them!

Years of the Trees Valinor:

Little Father by feanorianswelcome 🔒 - “Maitimo finds little Atarinkë and brings him home for luncheon.” (Oneshot, G) Cute little Curufin oneshot with big brother Maitimo! I haven’t read a lot of Curufin & Maedhros together, so this was enjoyable (and very sweet).

Fine Feathers, Pretty Songs by an_evasive_author - Everyone loves tiny Findaráto (as they should). (Oneshot, G) SO. FREAKING. CUTE. All the fluff for Findaráto! I loved him so much (and the writing style of this fic, too).

Rings of Power:

Look into the Mirror (Tell Me What You See) by Drag0nst0rm - Second Age!Gil-Galad and Rings of Power!Gil-Galad switch places. (3 chapters, T) I have watched one (1) episode of the Rings of Power series, but I have thankfully read enough articles about it that I understand enough to read this fic! It’s a highly amusing and enjoyable read :) The difference in Gil-Galads is quite noticeable, and I loved seeing Second Age!Gil-Galad quite surprised at his (supposed) past actions in RoP, whereas RoP!Gil-Galad is a little less aware of the change in his surroundings (but everyone else certainly is).

Another Skin by crystal_buizel - Second Age!Elrond and Rings of Power!Elrond switch places (based off of “Look into the Mirror (Tell Me What You See)”). (Doubleshot, T) Another swapped places fic! Poor Elrond in both situations, but especially poor Second Age!Elrond. Like the other fic, I can’t say too much about it without spoilers, but this one is also enjoyable, with a bit more angst on the part of both Elronds.

Tumblr Oneshots:

just you wait by @lintamande - “being brilliant in mind and swift in action she had early absorbed all of what she was capable of the teaching which the Valar thought fit to give the Eldar…” (T) I really liked this oneshot! Galadriel in her youth is rather clueless when it comes to social interactions, though she is vastly intelligent in intellectual matters, and I can feel her frustration, restlessness, and pride so strongly in this. Really well-written.

Oropher and Celeborn have a conversation by @amethysttribble - At a party, Oropher and Celeborn talk about the line of Lúthien. (T) SO good!!!! I loved this so much. Oropher and Celeborn’s characterization and views on things make a lot of sense, and I love how their discussion flows. They are the last two of Doriath, and that weight on their shoulders is so evident throughout this fic.

Non-Tolkien Fics

Longmire

A Never Ending Bake Sale by ladygray99 - Walt and Henry spend a casual evening together at The Red Pony. (Oneshot, T) I absolutely loved reading this fic. I feel like ladygray99 really nailed the characters, their relationship, and their mannerisms. Everything in Walt and Henry’s conversation, said and unsaid, felt very natural and relaxed. You can feel the depth of their 38-year-long friendship and how comfortable with each other they are. Although I’ve only seen the TV show and not read the books, I liked how it incorporated things from both. A great read!

Every Page You Turn You’re Writing (Typing) Your Legacy by @cminerva and @whatamess 🔒 - “For nearly four decades, Mathias has found many reasons to admire Ms. Ruby Mason née Taylor and in that time Ms. Ruby has found just as many reasons to be fond—and so proud—of the man Mathias has become.” (Oneshot, T) Oh my GOSH. This fic is adorable and cringy (in the best way!) and so freaking cute. I highly enjoyed the descriptions of Durant high school in the early 80s, complete with a typing class; although I wasn’t alive at the time, it feels quite realistic. I loved seeing Mathias’ journey through high school into adulthood and the way his and Ruby’s friendship developed over time, from Mathias’ schoolboy crush to his respect for the amazing woman she is. Mathias and Ruby’s friendship has now become canon to me, to the point where I’ll watch episodes and get excited whenever these two characters (who, for anyone who doesn’t know the show, are minor characters and very rarely interact) get to see each other, even only for a quick nod or short smile.

Something New by cminerva - Though they’ve known each other for years, May Stillwater and Mathias Littlesun have never been friends—and indeed, they’ve been enemies before—but perhaps it’s time for something new. (Oneshot, T) I am now a May/Mathias shipper after reading this fic XD I really liked how this not only addressed the (admittedly few) interactions they had in the TV show but also added more “off-screen” ones to give more depth to their on-screen appearances. They have a lot of reason to dislike each other, but I loved how in this fic, they began to see reasons to respect each other and then caught feelings. So cute!

Quigley Down Under

Morning Sun by Brievel 🔒 - Matthew and Cora wake up together. (Oneshot, G) This fic is SO SOFT. I can totally picture this happening as an epilogue after the end of the movie, and I can hear their voices so well. The details are quite lovely. Quigley Down Under is a pretty niche film, but if you’ve seen it, you deserve to read this fic!

I mentioned this at the start, but I wanted to reiterate because I truly am very grateful—To all the fic authors, people posting meta/analyses, and fan artists: Thank you for sharing your work with the world. Your stories, musings, and art have brought me a lot of joy (and frequently, encouragement) this past year, and it’s still kinda crazy to me that I can read or see it for free. Because you loved canon enough to make something from it, and you wanted to share the results of that love with others. Thank you. ❤️

And thank you to all who read this far XD Hope you enjoy some (or all!) of these fics!

Other Fic Rec Lists: 2023 Fic Recs, Fic Recs for Elrond Week 2024 (on fandomsandfairytales)

[quintessenceofdust88]

fuck it friday

I was tagged by my lovelies @perfectlysunny02 and @weewookinard! So I thought I'd bring you guys a little more of my tsunami fic (which I'm temporarily naming Life is Changin' Tides)I hope you guys like it! I'm posting the snippet from Wednesday + its continuation ♥

There is water everywhere, and Tommy has never seen anything like it. The Saint Monica pier is completely submerged and, from the chopper, he can barely see the tip of the Ferris wheel. There are red boats from the LAFD scattered around, and the air ops have been ordered to hover around and await for further instructions.

“Wow” His co-pilot, a probie named Monroe, exclaims. He's looking down at the wreckage, and Tommy imagines it's the first time he comes across something like this. “I was at the pier with my girlfriend just last week, can you believe that?”

“I know what you mean”, Tommy says distractedly, bringing the chopper closer to the chore with an eye out for light beacons or other signs of someone looking for help. “I brought my daughter here three days ago”

“Aw, man, you have a daughter? I didn't know that!” Monroe says, and Tommy can't help but smile a little as the face of his five-year-old comes to mind.

“Yeah, Genevieve. She's five” He says, fidgeting with the controls to gain some attitude on the bird to make sure they’re not missing anything “We were supposed to come back to the pier next Saturday, she saw this unicorn plushie and I promised to try to win it for her next time”

“Guess you’ll just have to buy it somewhere else” He says, and Tommy chuckles, already imagining how Vivie would react to that. 

“Nah, Vivie would say it’s not the same because we didn’t win it. She’s too smart for her own good; well, actually for my own good”

Tommy realizes this is the most he’s talked to the probie ever since they started working together a few weeks ago. Trust him to turn into a chatterbox when the best thing in his life is involved. 

“Yeah, I get you, I have a seven-year old son who’s already smarter than me” He says, and a fond smile takes over his face; Tommy is pretty sure he looks besotted just like that whenever he talks about his daughter. “It’s good to know they’re safe when we’re out there like this, isn’t it?”

“Yeah” Tommy easily agrees, his eyes scanning the water for people moving; unfortunately, there isn’t much they can do for those who stopped moving, at least not until the water goes down. 

Vivie is with her uncle Sal today, and Tommy’s pretty sure she’s having the time of her life. Sal lives far away from the shore, so he knows he has nothing to worry about, which lets him focus on the task at hand. 

If he had to worry about Genevieve in the middle of all this, he’s pretty sure he would have crashed his helicopter already.

np tagging @typicalopposite @bidisasterevankinard @laundryandtaxesworld @littlepaws9 @actuallyitsellie @mmso-notlikethat and whoever else wants to join! ♥

[iguessitsjustme]

My Favorite BL of 2024:

Is it 4 days after the new year? Yes. Am I making this a tad bit late. Probably. Do I care? Nope. Doing this for me.

These are my top 10 shows that aired and finished in 2024. I did have to whittle it down from around 20 and that was hard. But this is the list. But first.

Honorable mentions:

Love in the Big City - watched on Viki.

The reason this is not in the list of top 10 BL is because I categorize this as a queer story instead of a BL. It's missing the typical BL tropes and style, but it was damn good. After I watched it, it sat with me for awhile. It's still sitting with me. It was tough to watch at times, but it was worth it for me and I enjoyed it a lot.

I Hear the Sunspot - watched on Gagaoolala.

The same reason this did not make it into the favorites. This show is not a BL to me. Yes, it features a queer love, but that is not the focus nor is it the point of the show. This is a show about communication and acceptance and growth. The romance is secondary to all of that. The romance is used as a way to show the communication and acceptance and growth for multiple different characters.

The On1y One - watched on Viki.

This show. This SHOW. So good. I am scared we will never get a second season. The reason that this show is not on the list is because we didn't quite get to the romance yet. I truly hope we get more but I don't know if my heart can take it. Oh it was such a good show though. This show was one of my liveblogs (I promise I'll finish posting them at some point).

Now, on to the list in descending order of my favorites:

10. Century of Love - watched on Gagaoolala.

Listen. This show had some issues BUT listen. I am a sucker for a reincarnated lovers story. And I have been waiting my entire life for a show to do reincarnated lovers but they came back as a different gender. I loved the twist this show pulled by making it not certain if Vee was actually the reincarnation of Wat. I love when things get left up to the interpretation of the audience. I love that it also didn't matter because what mattered is that San chose Vee. He didn't need soulmates, he needed choice and that is what the show gave him.

9. Wandee Goodday - watched on YouTube.

I can't really explain why I loved this show so much except that I really loved both Yak and Wandee. Yak was such a green flag throughout the show and Wandee was actually very good at communicating his boundaries. It was refreshing to see. I wish it had handled certain things better, but overall this show was something I looked forward to a whole lot every week.

8. At 25:00 in Akasaka - watched on Gagaoolala.

This show felt weirdly calming to me. The way that all of the characters moved throughout the world was so calming. Shirasaki and Hayama are perfectly balanced. I love how they love each other. It took them awhile to get there, but once they did, it was so wholesome and delightful.

7. Deep Night - watched on IQIYI.

POLY. This show gave us canon poly. Did we get enough of them? No. Alas they were the sides. But it made me so incredibly happy. The leads were great too. Wela and Khem had wonderful communication the entire way through the show which was super unexpected in a show like this. This show also did not hold back on the heat. But the main reason I love this show so much (other than the poly) is just how supportive everyone ends up being of everyone. It was wonderful to see. This show was one of my liveblogs.

6. Jack & Joker: U Steal My Heart - watched on IQIYI

Yes, yes I know. I was pretty vocal in my critiques of this show (well vocal for me). But despite my issues with it, I really loved this show a whole lot. I love anything involving a heist and they really went and made it gay. God bless. Joke has become one of my all time favorite characters. I liked that this show tried something new. It gave us something new and something interesting. It was intriguing and it was fun. It was an absolute joy to watch and post about and it was the show that I probably felt the most in community with other people watching. I love YinWar for giving us this show and putting so much of their hearts into it. It was obvious how much everyone involved cared.

5. We Are - watched on IQIYI

It should surprise no one that this show is on my list. First of all, TanFang. My absolute favorites. But this show was so slow and so calm. There was such little conflict it basically was nonexistent. It was exactly what I needed. The summer months are always hard for me mentally and this show was a nice break for my brain. I loved all of the couples. Some of the couples definitely had pacing issues but I still love them. It was a delightful show and sometimes I just want a show that I can trust will greet me like a friend each week.

4. My Stand-In - watched on IQIYI

I love my toxic boys. Ming you absolute disaster. This show was a RIDE. I couldn't get enough. Joe was such a good person and the whole story is bonkers and Ming was a walking talking red flag and still I was rooting for him. I also loved how much effort the creators put into this show. I don't think I've ever seen so much analysis done of character's backs in my life. It was GREAT. I want a million more shows just like this. We all deserve it.

3. Monster Next Door - watched on Gagaoolala

Just like We Are, this show greeted me like a friend each week. I could count on this show to feel like a warm hug. God and Diew are quite literally the cutest of all time. God was the biggest green flag we have had in awhile, if ever. I mean, no one truly did it like him. That man literally went out of his way to make sure Diew wouldn't even see his face until Diew was ready for it. The only sin this show ever committed was not getting Khun Shy a proper tank. I know that it wouldn't have fit with the aesthetic or whatever, but I was stressed. This is a show that I imagine I will be rewatching at least once a year if not more.

2. Unknown - watched grey first then on Viki

It was soooo hard not to put this as number 1. This show was everything to me when it was airing. I actually found a translation of the book to read online after the show finished airing because I did not want to be done. The way Yuan loved Qian was absolutely wild but my god I loved it. Watching Qian learn to reciprocate Yuan's feelings but also to let himself finally be taken care of was fantastic. I loved their whole family dynamic. I loved the friends. I loved how hard each character worked, not just at life but they all worked hard at love. All types of love. Unknown really told us that love is not always easy and sometimes it is the hardest thing to do, but it is worth the effort. And it also gave me the scene of Qian chasing down San Pang while Yuan sat back and laughed. Iconic.

Love for Love's Sake - watched on IQIYI

This is the only show that could take the #1 spot for me. It was the show this year. It aired last January and I am still thinking about it and how much I love it. Myungha is undoubtedly one of my favorite characters. Something about him just spoke to me, the way I'm sure his character spoke to a lot of people. Everything about this show from beginning to end was executed flawlessly (in my opinion) and I cannot stop thinking about how it said that even the worst most unlovable parts of yourself are worth loving and actually they aren't the worst and the aren't unlovable. It might be hard to love those parts of yourself, but it's so easy to love them in someone else. And they will love them in you too. This is a show that I would absolutely love a physical copy of so I can force everyone I know to watch it.

Sorry for how long the post is. I chose not to include screenshots mostly because I'm lazy and now I'm glad because this is already very long.

[j4desblurbs]

RESIDENT EVIL CHARACTERS AT THE MOVIES

hello from your fav cinephile (ugh)

inspo from @yurozo, their restaurant au and vape shop au made me giggle

apologies in advance if i disgustingly mischaracterize your fav. i tend to only focus on one version of them in my mind cuz i’m not 100% familiar with RE yet so pls bear with me.

enjoy :)

ashley graham

ashley is the type of person to dress up for movies. not all the time, but when it’s right to do so. when barbie came out she dragged leon to the theater on opening day in an all pink outfit.

ashley also cries during movies and has no shame. she was blubbering her way through wicked.

as for the kinds of movies she likes, she’s mostly into romances, comedies, classic fantasies, and the odd animated film.

examples: 10 things i hate about you, enchanted, harry potter, moana.

carlos oliveira

carlos definitely laughs out loud in a movie theater, even if the joke isn’t very funny. he mostly catches super late shows so it’s not a rare occurrence for him to be the only one in the theater.

want to see a movie you’re not sure other people will want to see? call carlos! this guy will watch almost anything and have a good time with it. when ashley wanted to watch wicked, she went with carlos because no one else was free/interested. they ended up having a great time and he even wore whatever outfit ashley had created for him. (he also blubbered his way through the movie).

because carlos seems like he’d be into so many different genres, it’s hard narrow down specific ones. but i’ll have to go with action comedies, occasional superhero/comic book flicks, and sci-fi.

examples: the nice guys, rush hour, deadpool, star wars.

chris redfield

chris is the guy who doesn’t go to the theater on his own. it’s almost always in a group outing or if claire manages to drag him.

even so, he will be out like a light without fail. the longest he managed to stay awake was an hour. one time he even fell asleep during the previews. he vastly prefers to watch a movie at home.

chris is into the classic action movies. he also enjoys buddy cops.

examples: die hard, rambo, rocky, lethal weapon.

claire redfield

i think if anyone in this list is close to being a movie buff it’s claire. she’s at the theater the most out of everyone and always manages to drag at least one person with her too.

she enjoys the previews, loves a good post movie debrief at a restaurant, and will smack chris awake when he starts to nod off but then give up after a few times.

with that, claire is very much a “if it’s good, it’s good” type of gal so it’s hard to say exactly what kinds of movies she’d like, but i think she’d be into both sci-fi, action, and drama, as well as more lighthearted comedies.

examples: star wars, little women, the hunger games, whiplash.

jill valentine

the movies aren’t jill’s first choice of a pastime but when she’s with a group of people, she enjoys it. usually doesn’t start out too invested in whatever it is she’s watching but ends up getting more into it as time goes on.

i’d say jill would be into a good thriller and would also appreciate some sci-fi or horror movies as well.

examples: prisoners, interstellar, the silence of the lambs, se7en.

leon kennedy

leon is also like chris in that he’d prefer seeing a movie at home rather than in the theater, but he’s also less susceptible to falling asleep in the theater. leon also lets himself get dragged to movies a lot (as mentioned previously, ashley took him to barbie and he even wore a pink shirt. how sweet).

leon is a basic bitch and likes basic action movies but hey! they’re popular for a reason. he also enjoys a good comedy.

examples: the equalizer, deadpool & wolverine, the matrix, ferris bueller’s day off.

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts - Younger I

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

A glimpse into the past of Aemond and Valaena.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Mild Violence, Reference to Violence Against A Child, First Kiss, Seperation, Blood, Eye Injury, Self Loathing.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 8730

A.N -

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx

The sun shone bright over the training grounds of the Red Keep, casting long shadows as the clash of wooden swords echoed in the air.

Valaena stood by the weapons chest, her small fingers brushing the cool edge of the lid as she watched her brothers, Jace and Luke, sparring against their uncles Aegon and Aemond.

Their laughter and the occasional grunt of effort filled the space, each of them engrossed in the mock battle.

Valaena’s heart ached as she stood there, longing to join them. She clenched her small hands into fists, frustration bubbling in her chest.

Why couldn’t she pick up a sword too?

She might be able to fight as well as any of them if only she were given the chance.

But no, she was a girl, and the training ground was no place for her. Her days were filled with embroidery, memorizing the names of lords and castles, and practicing the graciousness expected of a Queen.

She glowered at the thought.

If duty meant being left on the sidelines while everyone else had fun, she didn’t want it.

Valaena’s gaze lingered on Aemond as he stepped back, his wooden sword poised with precision. His movements were sharp and deliberate, his focus unwavering.

He didn’t carry the same careless energy as Aegon or the easy camaraderie Jace and Luke shared. There was a quiet intensity to him, one that fascinated Valaena.

But more than that, there was something else—a sadness she couldn’t quite name.

While the others sparred, Aemond often stood alone. Even when he fought alongside them, he seemed apart, an island unto himself.

It made her chest tighten to see him that way, isolated in a way that felt deeply unfair. She wanted to approach him, to talk to him, to ask him why he seemed so distant, but the words never came.

Instead, when their eyes met across the training yard, she gave him a small, discreet wave.

To her surprise, Aemond smiled and inclined his head in return. Her cheeks warmed, a blush creeping across her face as she looked down quickly, pretending to fiddle with the edge of her sleeve.

Her mind raced.

What could she do to make him happy?

She wanted to see him smile again, to banish that loneliness from his expression. A thought struck her—a simple, childlike solution that made perfect sense.

Sweets!

Everyone liked sweets, didn’t they? Surely, a treat would lift Aemond’s spirits.

Resolving herself, Valaena turned on her heel, leaving the training grounds behind. Her sandals slapping against the stone floor as she made her way toward the kitchens, excitement bubbling within her.

She imagined the look on Aemond’s face when she presented him with the treat. Perhaps he’d laugh, or perhaps he’d speak to her more. Maybe he’d even thank her and tell her she was clever.

And just maybe, in some small way, he’d like her.

Valaena tiptoed into the Red Keep’s kitchens, her heart racing with the thrill of her small rebellion.

The air was warm and smelled of freshly baked bread, spiced pies, and the faint tang of roasted meat.

Long wooden tables were cluttered with pots, bowls, and rolling pins, and in the corner sat a tray laden with sweets—golden tarts, sugar-dusted biscuits, and small candied fruits that glistened like tiny jewels.

Her eyes lit up as she approached, her hands twitching with anticipation. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then reached out, snatching a handful of the treats. Just as she stuffed them into her hands, a shadow loomed over her, and she froze.

“Ahem-”

Valaena turned, her breath hitching as she looked up at a plump older woman with flour-splattered cheeks and a wooden ladle clutched in her hand like a weapon. The cook stared down at her, raising an eyebrow.

“What do we have here?” the woman asked in a stern tone.

“I-I was-was just-” Valaena stammered, quickly hiding her hands behind her back. Her lip wobbled as she tried to think of an excuse. “Please don’t tell my mama-”

The cook crossed her arms, her gaze steady. “Stealing is wrong, little Princess.”

“I’m sorry, cooky lady,” Valaena whispered, her cheeks reddening. “I-I’ll put them back. I just wanted to cheer up my uncle-he seems very sad and-and-”

The cook’s expression softened at her words. She sighed, shaking her head before putting her ladle on the side. “Go on, then. Take them. But next time, you ask, do you hear me?”

Valaena’s face brightened with a smile, and she nodded eagerly. “I will! Thank you, cooky lady!”

The cook chuckled softly, the corners of her lips twitching into a smile. “Go on, get out of here, Princess. Wouldn’t want you getting caught wandering where you don’t belong.”

Valaena paused, turning back to the cook with a puzzled expression. “Where I don’t belong?”

The cook let out a weary sigh, brushing the flour from her hands. “You’re a Princess, and I’m a servant. We belong to different worlds, little one. One day you’ll understand. People like me aren’t meant to mix with people like you.”

Valaena tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “But why?”

The cook chuckled softly, though there was a hint of melancholy in her voice. “That’s just the way things are, child.”

“But why?” Valaena pressed, her frown deepening.

The cook exhaled, her patience waning. “You’re young. You’ll see when you’re older.”

“But we all live—and someday, we’ll all die. Isn’t that the same?” Valaena asked, her head tilted in earnest curiosity.

The cook paused, her voice carrying a note of quiet sorrow. “The lives we lead couldn’t be more different.”

“Why?” Valaena insisted, pursing her lips.

“It just is, Princess,” the cook murmured, her words heavy with resignation.

Valaena looked down at the sweets cradled in her hands.

After a moment of thought, she picked the most delicious-looking one—a tart with golden glaze—and held it out to the cook.

“Here. Sweets always make everything better.”

The cook’s eyes widened in surprise, and she smiled, taking the tart carefully. “Thank you, Princess.”

Valaena beamed, but then asked, “What’s your name, cooky lady?”

The cook raised an eyebrow, bemused. “Flora,” she said after a moment.

“I’m Valaena,” the young princess replied proudly, her head held high.

Flora laughed softly, shaking her head. “I know who you are, Princess.”

Valaena frowned, shaking her head firmly. “No, I’m just Valaena.”

The cook smiled, her eyes crinkling with affection. “Very well, Valaena.”

“Thank you, Flora,” Valaena said with a grin. “But I must give these to my uncle now. Perhaps I shall come to see you again.”

“I would like that,” Flora said, her voice gentle.

With a final smile, Valaena turned and darted out of the kitchen, racing back to the training yard with the sweets clutched in her hands.

Valaena arrived back at the training yard, her hand clutching the sweets she had carefully pilfered, only to be greeted by the chaotic sight of Ser Harwin Strong reigning punches down on Ser Criston Cole.

The sound of fists connecting with flesh echoed around the grounds, Ser Harwin’s booming voice shouting, “Say it again! Say it again!”

His anger reverberated like thunder, and it took three Kingsguard to pull him away.

As Ser Harwin was escorted past her, his face a mixture of fury and frustration, Valaena’s gaze met his.

On impulse, she reached out and gently squeezed his hand, a silent gesture of comfort.

Ser Harwin looked down at her, his stormy expression softening for a moment, before he was pulled away.

Valaena let go, her attention turning toward Aemond.

She approached him, her steps light, and held out one of the sweets in her hand. “For you, Uncle,” she said softly, her violet eyes shimmering with quiet warmth.

Aemond stared at her, his features momentarily unreadable. Then, he nodded and reached for the sweet, his fingers brushing hers as he took it.

“Thank you,” he muttered, his voice low.

“I saw you earlier,” Valaena said, her tone brightening. “You’re very good with sparring.”

Aemond’s lips quirked into a small smile, but before he could reply, Aegon sauntered over, his usual smirk plastered across his face.

“What’s this, little niece?” Aegon asked, his tone mockingly sweet as he reached for the sweets in her hand.

“Not for you, Uncle,” Valaena snapped, pulling her hand back protectively. “Get your own”

Aegon scoffed, his pride clearly pricked. “How rude.” With a flick of his wrist, he slapped her hand, sending the sweets tumbling to the dirt.

Valaena’s lips wobbled, her breath hitching as Aegon laughed cruelly.

“Aww, are you going to cry, little girl?”

“You’re mean!” Valaena blurted, her voice shaking.

Aegon shrugged nonchalantly. “So? What are you going to do about it? Nothing. That’s all you ever have—nothing. No friends, no dragon. Makes you wonder if you’re even a Targaryen at all.”

His words struck deep, and Valaena glanced at Aemond, whose scowl mirrored her own pain. Aemond, like her, was without a dragon, and Aegon’s taunts seemed to cut them both equally.

Aegon’s laughter only grew as he shoved Valaena, sending her sprawling to the ground.

“Leave her alone!” Aemond snapped, his voice sharp as he moved to help her up.

Aegon stopped laughing, only to sneer at his younger brother. “Oh, look, the dragon less wonder comes to the rescue.”

But before Aegon could continue his mockery, Valaena surged forward, her small fist connecting with his nose in a satisfying crack.

Aegon’s eyes widened in shock as he stumbled back, blood trickling from his nostrils.

“You little shit!” Aegon snarled, lunging toward her, but Aemond stepped in front of Valaena, his arm outstretched as he pushed his older brother back.

“That’s enough,” Aemond said coldly, his voice steady and commanding.

Aegon wiped the blood from his nose, his face twisting with fury. “You two losers deserve each other,” he spat before stomping off, Jace and Luke following close behind with uncertain expressions.

Valaena brushed dirt from her dress, her cheeks flushed with anger and shame. “Thank you,” she murmured, glancing at Aemond.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his tone casual as he turned away to begin placing the wooden swords back on the rack.

Feeling disheartened, Valaena turned to leave the training grounds. But just as she reached the edge, Aemond’s voice called after her.

“Good punch, by the way.”

Valaena stopped, turning to see him looking at her with a faint, approving smile.

A smile broke across Valaena’s face, and she nodded. “Thank you.”

For the first time that day, Aemond’s smile lingered, and Valaena left the training yard with a newfound spark of courage in her heart.

Valaena sat cross-legged on the cool stone floor of her chambers, her fingers tracing the smooth, polished edges of her wooden dragon figurines.

Each one was meticulously carved, the detail of their scales and wings so lifelike that she often imagined they might come alive in her hands.

She loved her toys, but as her gaze lingered on the little wooden figures, a heavy question began to press on her heart.

Would these carvings be the closest she ever came to having a dragon of her own?

The thought sent a pang of doubt through her chest.

What kind of Queen would she be if she never had a dragon?

Her mother had Syrax, her grandsire had been the last to claim Balerion the Black Dread, and Old King Jaehaerys, whom the bards still sang of, had commanded Vermithor.

Would the realm see her as weak?

Would they whisper behind her back that she was unworthy to sit the Iron Throne because she lacked the fiery majesty that defined her house?

People already whispered about her, she knew. Valaena wasn’t deaf to the hushed voices in the corridors of the Red Keep or the side-eyed glances as she walked by.

“She doesn’t have silver hair like her mother,” they would murmur. “-Or any Targaryen.”

Her hair was dark, like her brothers’, like Ser Harwin’s.

That truth loomed over her like a shadow she couldn’t escape, but Valaena didn’t want to dwell on it—not the way the courtiers and gossips did.

Her mother, Rhaenyra, always sidestepped such questions with the poise she could muster.

“You are a Targaryen,” her mother always said. “And that is all that matters.”

But without a dragon, Valaena didn’t feel much like a Targaryen. She felt ordinary, just like everyone else in the castle who didn’t have wings to carry them into the sky or fire in their blood to set the world alight.

Her fingers tightened around the figurine, her nails digging into its wooden sides. She wanted to believe her mother’s words.

She wanted to feel the power and pride of her house coursing through her veins, but without a dragon, it was hard to hold onto that feeling.

She sighed, letting the little wooden dragon drop onto the floor with a soft clatter.

For now, all she had were these toys and her dreams of what might be.

But dreams, no matter how vivid, couldn’t chase away the doubt.

Valaena picked up the shiny silver dragon figurine and cradled it in her hands.

“Maybe someday,” she whispered to the little dragon, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire in her hearth. “Maybe someday, you’ll be real.”

For now, though, the wooden dragons were all she had, and as much as she tried to imagine otherwise, they weren’t enough to fill the emptiness that burned inside her.

Valaena was skipping along the corridor, her little satchel of sweet treats that Flora had given her bouncing against her hip, when she saw Aemond rush past her.

His face was streaked with soot, his silver hair dishevelled, and his eyes red and swollen.

She hesitated for a moment, clutching the strap of her satchel. Aemond wasn’t always the easiest to approach, especially when he was upset.

But something about the look in his eyes pulled her forward. She quickened her steps, following him down the winding hall and out into the gardens.

She found him hunched near the ancient weirwood tree, his shoulders trembling as he furiously wiped at his face.

Valaena stopped a few paces away and called his name softly.

“Aemond?”

His head snapped up, his violet eyes glaring at her through strands of silver hair.

“Get lost,” he snarled, his voice thick with anger and embarrassment.

Valaena paused, unphased by his outburst. She reached into her satchel and pulled out one of the treats.

“Would you like a sweet?” she offered, holding it out in her palm. “I got them from the kitchens this morning.”

Aemond scowled, his face twisting in frustration, but after a moment, he nodded stiffly.

Valaena smiled. “Follow me.” She turned and led him to a thick bush near the edge of the gardens.

Parting the branches, she revealed a hollow space beneath, just large enough for the two of them to sit.

“This is my secret hiding place,” she said with pride, stepping inside and settling on the soft grass. She patted the ground beside her. “No one will find us here.”

Aemond hesitated, casting a wary glance around, but then he sighed and crawled in after her. He sat beside her, his knees drawn up to his chest.

Valaena opened her satchel, pulling out a handful of treats. “Which one do you want?”

Aemond pointed to the one in her left hand, and she handed it over without hesitation. They sat in companionable silence, munching on the sweets.

The tension in Aemond’s shoulders seemed to ease as he chewed, though his gaze remained fixed on the ground.

When they finished, Valaena broke the quiet. “Why were you so upset?”

Aemond’s face darkened, and he looked away, his cheeks flushing pink. “They all laughed at me,” he muttered.

“Who?”

“Aegon,” he said bitterly, wiping at his eyes again, “and your brothers. They gave me a p-pig.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he clenched his fists. “They called it the Pink Dread”

Valaena’s heart ached at the pain in his voice. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Aemond. That was cruel of them.”

He glanced at her, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and squeezed her hand back.

They sat in silence for a long moment before Aemond spoke again, his voice low but resolute.

“I vow,” he said, his tone filled with determination, “-that one day I will claim the greatest dragon alive and they will never dare to mock me again-”

Valaena’s lips curled into a small smile. “Maybe that’s why your egg didn’t hatch,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe your dragon is already out there somewhere, waiting for you.”

Aemond turned to her, a flicker of hope sparking in his eyes. “Do you really think so?”

She nodded. “I do. We weren’t meant for hatchlings. Our claims belong to the dragons of old. I’m certain of it.”

Aemond stared at her for a moment, his expression softening. “I hope you’re right, Valaena.”

She grinned and leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “And maybe, just maybe, I’ll claim one of my own, too.”

For the first time that day, Aemond smiled, and it was enough to warm Valaena’s heart.

Together, they sat beneath the canopy of the bush, their shared hope for the future quietly binding them in a way that neither of them could yet put into words.

Over the next few weeks, Valaena and Aemond grew inseparable.

While the others flew with their dragons, Valaena and Aemond found solace in each other’s company.

They spent hours in the gardens, their laughter echoing beneath the shade of the weirwood tree, or lost in the library, devouring books on history and philosophy.

One sunny afternoon, Valaena skipped along the stone path, humming a cheerful tune. She was meant to be in her lessons with Septa Wella, but her heart led her elsewhere.

The weirwood tree was her sanctuary, and Aemond, sitting at its base with a book in hand, was waiting for her.

She spotted him ahead and quickened her steps, but her foot caught on an uneven stone. She tumbled to the ground, scraping her knee.

Tears welled in her eyes as she sat up, clutching her injured leg.

Aemond immediately rushed to her side, dropping to his knees. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Valaena whimpered, pointing to her knee. “It hurts.”

Aemond examined the scrape. It was bleeding slightly but not severe. “It’s just a small scrape-” he said, his tone soothing. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

Before he could say more, a shadow loomed over them. Septa Wella stood there, her face a mask of fury.

“Princess Valaena,” the Septa said sharply, “-you have important lessons to attend”

Valaena glared up at her, still clutching her knee. “I don’t want to go. I want to play with Aemond.”

“That is not your choice,” Septa Wella replied, her voice tight with disapproval. “As future Queen, there are values you must learn. The crown works closely with the Faith of the Seven. These lessons are vital.”

Valaena’s scowl deepened. “But what about the Valyrian gods? Shouldn’t I learn about them too?”

The Septa scoffed, unimpressed. “The Faith of the Seven is what matters in the realm. You will understand this in time.” She reached down and grabbed Valaena’s arm, trying to pull her to her feet.

Valaena, with fire in her eyes, leaned forward and bared her teeth, snapping them in the Septa’s direction.

Septa Wella shrieked, recoiling. “You vicious little beast!”

Aemond stood abruptly, his violet eye flashing. “Perhaps my niece would be more cooperative if you spent less time scolding her,” he said coldly.

Septa Wella straightened, smoothing her robes. “But, my Prince, the Princess is stubborn and belligerent. Such attitudes are unbefitting of a future Queen.”

Aemond tilted his head, a faint smirk curling his lips. “Hmmm. And perhaps you should have more respect for the future Queen.”

The Septa narrowed her eyes at him but bowed, her politeness clearly feigned. “I shall endeavour to correct my behaviour, my Prince.”

Aemond gave a curt nod before turning his attention back to Valaena. “Are you all right?”

Before Valaena could answer, Septa Wella interjected, her tone clipped. “Oh, do not worry, my Prince. The Princess will be fine.”

With that, the Septa grabbed Valaena’s arm once more, dragging her away. Valaena’s eyes filled with fear as she looked back at Aemond, silently pleading for help.

Aemond watched them go, his fists clenching at his sides. He knew the Septa’s strictness was part of her duty, but the sight of Valaena’s terrified face lingered in his mind long after she disappeared from view.

He vowed to find a way to protect her—not just from Septa Wella, but from the suffocating expectations that seemed determined to stifle the bright, fierce spirit he had come to admire so deeply.

Valaena lay curled up in her bed, her small body trembling as tears soaked her pillow.

Her back throbbed where Septa Wella's whip had left its stinging marks, each stripe a cruel reminder of the words that had been flung at her like daggers.

"Creature born of sin and depravity," the Septa had hissed. "You are no true Targaryen. Your egg didn’t hatch because you were never meant to be one of them."

The words echoed in Valaena’s mind, sharp and cutting, tearing at the fragile sense of self she had tried to hold onto.

She hugged her stuffed dragon tightly to her chest, its worn scales damp from her tears. The maids would come soon; she knew they would.

They always did, hovering around her like bees to honey, eager to report back to her mother if anything seemed amiss.

Valaena didn’t want that. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this.

As she lay there, staring into the dancing flames in the hearth, the truth settled over her like a suffocating weight.

It was a truth she had somehow known deep down, even as she had tried to ignore it, to wish it away.

Harwin Strong was her father. Not Laenor Velaryon, the man who was supposed to be her father, who the realm believed was her father.

Her mother had lain with Harwin instead, and Valaena, like her brothers, was the proof of that indiscretion. She hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t asked to be born into a web of lies and whispers. Yet here she was.

The pointed stares, the quiet murmurs in the halls, the sideways glances—they were her fault.

She was the reason her family carried this burden, the reason her brothers were mocked and ridiculed. It was her existence that cast a shadow over them all.

And in that moment, Valaena hated her mother.

She hated her mother for her choices, for the shadow she had cast over their family, for the pain and shame that Valaena and her brothers endured every day. If it weren’t for her grandsire, the King’s wilful blindness, Valaena knew she wouldn’t even be here.

None of them would.

She wiped her nose on the edge of her bed sheet, sniffling as she tried to quiet her sobs. The maids would come soon, and she couldn’t let them see her like this.

Gingerly, she climbed out of bed, wincing as the movement pulled at her sore back. Her fingers trembled as she changed into her nightclothes, the soft fabric brushing against her raw skin and making her wince.

Once dressed, she climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She burrowed deeper into the blankets, the stuffed dragon clutched tightly in her arms as she stared into the fire. The flames flickered and danced, their light casting shadows across the walls of her chamber.

Valaena watched the flames until her eyes grew heavy, her tears drying on her cheeks. But even as sleep tugged at her, the sting of Septa Wella's words and the ache in her heart refused to fade.

Only thoughts of Aemond offered her solace: the warmth of his smile, the way his eyes sparkled with laughter, the delicate freckles scattered across his face, and the way he would sometimes hold her hand as they read together.

He was her friend—her only friend. And maybe, just maybe, one day Valaena prayed that he would be something more.

The Red Keep buzzed with a flurry of activity as trunks were packed, maids hurried back and forth with Rhaenyra issuing instructions with a strained voice.

Valaena stood off to the side, her heart sinking as she watched her life at the castle being dismantled before her eyes.

They were leaving for Dragonstone, her mother had said, a place of safety and tradition, far away from the whispers and stares of King’s Landing.

Valaena barely noticed. Her world was shattering. She wasn’t just leaving the Red Keep; she was leaving him.

Aemond.

The thought of parting from him made her chest ache in a way she couldn’t fully explain.

Without him, what was she? Just a lonely girl with no dragon, trapped by the weight of her name.

She couldn’t let it end like this.

Slipping away from her chambers, her small feet barely made a sound on the stone floors as she ran through the familiar corridors.

She didn’t care if her mother found out she’d vanished. She didn’t care if the maids scolded her for disobedience.

All that mattered was seeing Aemond, one last time.

She found him sitting beneath the weirwood tree, his head bowed, his shoulders tense. He didn’t look up immediately as she approached, but when he did, the sadness in his eyes mirrored her own.

“I’m leaving for Dragonstone-” Valaena said, her voice trembling.

“I know,” Aemond replied, his tone clipped but hollow.

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened as he looked away, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “What choice do you have?” he said quietly, bitterness seeping into his voice. “What choice do we ever have?”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she stepped closer, her small hands trembling as she reached for his. “But I’ll miss you. So much.”

At that, he turned back to her, his expression softening as his fingers intertwined with hers. “And I’ll miss you,” he admitted, his voice cracking.

They stood there for a moment, hand in hand, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.

“I wish we could stay together,” Valaena finally said, her tears spilling over.

Aemond looked up at the weirwood tree, its carved face gazing down at them with an ancient, solemn expression. When he spoke, his voice was low but firm. “Then we will.”

Her brow furrowed. “How?”

“When we’re grown,” he said, his eye meeting hers with fierce determination, “I vow to you. That I will marry you. And we will never be parted again.”

Her breath hitched, his words both a comfort and a wound. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he said, his voice unwavering.

She tried to smile through her tears, but it broke into a sob as Aemond reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek.

Then, with a trembling hand, he leaned in and kissed her.

It was a fleeting kiss, soft and hesitant, but it was full of all the things they couldn’t say—longing, fear, and a desperate hope that the future might somehow be kinder.

“Valaena!” Rhaenyra’s voice echoed through the gods wood, sharp and commanding.

Valaena flinched, her time running out. She clung to Aemond in a desperate hug, her tears soaking into his tunic. “Don’t forget me,” she begged.

“I could never forget you,” he whispered fiercely, his arms tightening around her. “Write to me.”

“I will,” she promised, her voice breaking as she pulled away, taking one last look at him before turning to run back toward her mother’s voice.

Aemond stood frozen beneath the weirwood tree, his fists clenched at his sides, his heart shattering as he watched her go.

With one last look, Valaena turned and ran back toward the Keep.

Aemond remained by the weirwood tree, standing alone as he watched her disappear from sight.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, falling into the grass below.

Aemond sat cross-legged in the small hollow beneath the bush in the gods wood, Valaena’s hiding spot.

It was his refuge now, the only place where he felt close to her. The faint rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of birds surrounded him, but all his focus was on the crinkled parchment in his hands, her familiar handwriting filling the page.

He had read the letter so many times that he knew it by heart, but still, he traced each line as if committing it to memory anew.

Her words were a balm to the ache in his chest. She missed him, she said, just as much as he missed her.

But her life on Dragonstone sounded better, freer.

There are no whispers here, no pointing fingers or cruel laughter as I pass. It is... peaceful. I think you would like it, Aemond. The air smells of salt and the sea, and when the sun sets, the world looks like it’s made of fire and blood and the library is filled with ancient books and scrolls from old Valyria.

He smiled faintly at her description, imagining her sitting by the sea, her dark hair whipped by the wind, the light of the setting sun casting her in hues of crimson and gold.

But then his smile faltered, and the ache in his chest deepened. She was so far away.

But one letter had arrived just days ago that had shaken him from his melancholy. It was different. Brimming with excitement, the words practically leapt off the page:

Aemond, you won’t believe it! I have my dragon at last!

His heart had raced as he read those words, a mixture of elation and jealousy coursing through him.

Silverwing! She is mine now. The dragon keepers said she was unclaimed for so long, but when I approached her, she came to me without hesitation. She is beautiful, Aemond, with shining silver scales and the gentlest eyes I have ever seen. They say she is the gentlest of all dragons, and I believe it. When I am with her, I feel… whole.

Aemond couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy, though he quickly pushed it aside. Silverwing.

The dragon of Queen Alysanne, one of the most revered dragons in Targaryen history. Of course, Valaena would be the one to claim her.

There was no other dragon in the world more suited to her, no bond more fitting than the one they shared.

He read the next part again, the words filling him with hope:

I know you will claim your dragon too, Aemond. I am certain of it. Perhaps, like me, your dragon waits for you somewhere out there, ready to find you when the time is right.

Her faith in him stirred something deep within his chest. He could almost hear her voice, warm and unwavering, soothing the insecurities that had plagued him for so long.

If Valaena believed he could claim a dragon, then perhaps he could.

For now, he found joy in her triumph. He was proud of her—so proud he thought his heart might burst with it. She had done what he still had yet to do, and she had found her place in the world.

But still, he missed her terribly. The letters were his lifeline, and as he folded the parchment carefully and tucked it into the small pouch he kept at his side.

Leaning back, Aemond looked up through the branches at the sky, his mind filled with images of Silverwing and Valaena soaring together above the waves of Dragonstone.

The thought brought him comfort, and for the first time in weeks, he smiled—a true, genuine smile.

Someday, he promised himself. Someday he would claim his own dragon, and he would join her in the skies.

But for now, her happiness was enough.

Aemond leaned against the rain-specked window of his cabin, his gaze fixed on the endless expanse of gray-blue sea.

The ship’s rhythmic creaking and the distant crash of waves filled the air, but he barely noticed.

His thoughts were elsewhere, consumed by the one person who had occupied his heart and mind since the day she had left the Red Keep—Valaena.

He let out a soft sigh, his fingers idly tracing the glass. Somewhere ahead, past the horizon, she was waiting.

They had written to one another faithfully, sharing every detail of their lives and thoughts, but letters could only go so far. He yearned to see her again, to hear her voice, and to feel the warmth of her presence.

Aemond’s lips twitched into a small smile as he thought of her, but guilt tugged at him immediately. They were sailing to Driftmark for a funeral—a solemn occasion, a time for mourning.

Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys had lost their daughter, and his duty was to offer respect and condolences. Yet, no matter how he tried, his heart thrummed with excitement at the prospect of seeing Valaena again.

He closed his eye and rested his forehead against the window. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre flew in graceful arcs alongside the ship, their powerful wings cutting through the sky.

Normally, the sight of dragons in flight would have captivated him, but not today.

Today, his mind was filled with Valaena.

When the announcement came that Driftmark was on the horizon, Aemond was one of the first to ascend to the deck. He stood at the bow of the ship, gripping the railing tightly as he stared out into the distance.

The imposing cliffs of Driftmark loomed closer, and the towering structure of High Tide came into view, its stones gleaming under the faint sunlight.

Sunfyre and Dreamfyre roared as they soared ahead, joining the dragons already circling Driftmark—Syrax, Meleys, and Caraxes.

But then, among them, he spotted her—Silverwing.

Aemond’s breath caught in his throat. She was even more magnificent than he had imagined.

Her scales shimmered like molten silver, catching the sunlight as she glided effortlessly through the sky, she was larger than the other dragons.

For a moment, he could only stare, mesmerized by the beauty and grace, of the hundred year old dragon.

But it wasn’t just Silverwing, it was Valaena. She would be there, so close now, just beyond the horizon.

“Just a little while longer,” he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the wind and waves.

As the ship drew nearer to Driftmark, Aemond stood resolute, his eyes never leaving the sight of Silverwing.

The anticipation burned in his chest, mingling with a thousand unspoken words and a longing he could scarcely contain.

Soon. Soon, they would be together again.

All throughout the funeral, Aemond’s gaze found its way to Valaena. She stood with her brothers, her head bowed, her dark hair falling like a curtain around her saddened face. She looked so small, huddled between Jace and Luke, her hands clasped tightly before her.

Aemond’s heart ached to see her like this, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The sombre words spoken by Vaemond, the weeping of loved ones, even the low roar of the waves against Driftmark’s cliffs faded to a dull hum in his ears.

All he could focus on was her—the tilt of her chin, the way she fidgeted with her fingers, the faint sheen of tears in her eyes.

When the funeral came to an end, Aemond found her standing alone by the water’s edge. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, painting the sea in hues of amber and crimson.

Her arms were crossed, and she stared out across the waves, her expression distant.

He approached her cautiously, his footsteps muffled by the damp earth. When he stopped beside her, Valaena turned her head slightly and looked at him.

Without a word, she reached out and took his hand, her fingers cool but firm as she squeezed gently.

“I—I’m sorry about your aunt,” Aemond said, his voice soft but sincere.

Valaena nodded, her gaze returning to the water. “Thank you,” she whispered as she leaned her head against his shoulder, seeking comfort in his quiet presence.

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the only sound the gentle lapping of the tide.

But then, a mournful cry split the air, low and resonant, echoing across the cliffs and stirring the quiet.

Aemond’s head snapped up, his eyes scanning the sky. A shadow passed through the clouds, vast and imposing, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Vhagar,” Valaena said softly, her voice tinged with awe.

Aemond nodded, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the great dragon emerge from the cover of the clouds, her wings blotting out the light as she circled high above. “She is without a rider now,” he murmured.

“I know,” Valaena replied, her voice heavy with the weight of what that meant.

Before either could say more, Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the air. “Valaena, Jace, Luke—it’s time to go to bed.”

Valaena turned, her brow furrowing. “But, Mother—”

Rhaenyra’s attention was elsewhere, her gaze fixed on Daemon as he lingered near the pyre.

Without looking back at her daughter, she repeated firmly, “Bed. Now.”

Valaena sighed, knowing better than to argue. She glanced up at Aemond, her reluctance plain on her face.

“Goodnight,” she said softly, releasing his hand and retreating towards the keep with her brothers.

Aemond watched her go, the warmth of her touch still lingering on his skin.

As she disappeared into the shadows of High Tide, he turned his attention back to the sky.

Vhagar’s massive form was still circling above, her cries reverberating through his chest.

He took a deep, steadying breath, his heart swelling with a mix of fear and determination.

This was his chance.

If Valaena could find her dragon, so could he.

Without another thought, Aemond descended the stone steps, his footsteps resolute as he disappeared in search of Vhagar.

Aemond returned to High Tide, his heart soaring higher than it ever had. Vhagar was his.

The largest, oldest dragon in the world had accepted him, and their flight together had been nothing short of breathtaking.

The new bond thrummed in his chest, warm and vibrant, and he felt invincible, as if the entire world had shifted into place. He couldn’t wait to tell Valaena—she’d be so proud of him.

But his elation was short-lived. As he made his way back through the castle, he was ambushed.

Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena appeared from the shadows, their faces contorted with rage.

"You stole her!" Rhaena shrieked, her voice breaking with grief. Tears streamed down her face. "Vhagar was mine to claim!"

Aemond opened his mouth to defend himself, but before he could speak, the four of them lunged at him.

Fists rained down on him, their collective fury overwhelming him. He tried to shield himself, but it was too much.

Suddenly, a new voice screamed, “Stop it!”

Valaena came racing toward them, her dark hair flying as she threw herself into the fray. She grabbed Baela and Rhaena, pulling them off Aemond.

“Leave him alone!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

Baela snarled and elbowed Valaena in the side of the head, sending her staggering backward.

Valaena stumbled, her vision swimming, and leaned against the wall for support.

Jace grabbed Aemond, pinning him to the ground. Aemond, panting and bloodied, managed to pick up a rock and swing it, connecting with Jace’s head and knocking him down.

Luke rushed forward, and Aemond punched him square in the face, the crack of his nose breaking echoing in the night and he fell back with a whimper, clutching his face.

"You’ll die screaming in flames, just like your father did," Aemond snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

“My father’s still alive!” Luke whimpered, tears mixing with the blood running down his face.

Aemond loomed over him, his chest heaving. “He doesn’t know, does he? Lord Strong.”

The words cut through the air like a knife. Jace, enraged, pulled a blade from his sleeve and lunged at Aemond.

Aemond kicked him to the ground, the rock still in his hand, raised high above his head.

But then, a soft, trembling voice broke through his fury.

“Aemond”

He froze. He turned his head and saw Valaena, leaning against the wall, her hand pressed to the side of her head where Baela had struck her.

Her wide, tear-filled eyes pleaded with him, her voice raw with emotion.

His anger drained away, replaced by a deep concern for her. He dropped the rock, taking a step toward her.

“Are you hurt?” he muttered, his voice soft, almost breaking.

Valaena opened her mouth to respond, but Jace, taking advantage of the moment, threw a handful of sand into Aemond’s face.

Blinded, Aemond staggered back, wiping at his eyes, when Luke lunged forward.

The blade slashed across Aemond’s face, and he screamed, the pain white-hot as blood began to pour from the wound.

“AEMOND!” Valaena screamed, her voice high and panicked.

She rushed to him, dropping to her knees beside him. Tearing strips from her nightgown, she pressed the cotton to his face, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

Her hands trembled as she worked, her face pale with horror.

“V-Valaena. I-I-” stuttered Luke, his hand still clutching the blade.

“LUKE. WHAT DID YOU DO?!” screamed Valaena, her voice shaking with rage and despair.

Aemond then whimpered her name, his voice weak, and she immediately took his hand in hers.

“Iksan lēda ao,” Valaena whispered. (I’m with you)

The sound of armoured footsteps broke the moment as Lord Commander Westerling and several members of the Kings guard rushed onto the scene, their shouts of alarm ringing through the air.

Valaena held onto Aemond’s hand tightly, her body trembling as she looked up at the guards. “Help him! Please!” she cried, her voice breaking.

The chaos swirled around them, but all Aemond could focus on was the warmth of Valaena’s hand in his, her whispered reassurances grounding him as the world seemed to fall apart.

The room was dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the high window.

Aemond lay motionless on the bed, the left side of his face swathed in thick bandages. Pain radiated from the wound—a constant, throbbing reminder of what had been taken from him.

Tears slipped from the corner of his right eye, silently trailing down his cheek as he stared at the ceiling.

His world was half gone, lost to the darkness where his left eye once was. Now he was deformed, a scarred monster who would forever bear the mark of last night.

But worse than the physical pain was the ache in his chest, the unbearable weight of his father’s indifference.

Viserys had never truly cared for him. Not for Aegon, Helaena, or Daeron either.

His father’s love had always been reserved for one—Rhaenyra, his precious firstborn.

Even as Aemond sat in agony before the fire, his face being stitched back together, his father’s attention had been consumed by Rhaenyra.

The accusations, the demands for apologies, the placating of her Strong bastards.

That was all that mattered to Viserys. Not his son, who had lost an eye.

Aemond’s throat tightened at the memory of the hall. The arguments, the chaos, the raging voices, and the utter dismissal of what he had endured.

Even Valaena’s small, determined voice had been drowned out in the tumult. She had valiantly tried to defend him, declaring that Vhagar was not some possession to be inherited, but a creature of free will who had chosen him.

Her words had meant the world to him, but they had been brushed aside like nothing.

Viserys had demanded apologies. Reconciliation and gestures of goodwill.

None of it mattered.

Only Alicent and Valaena had stood by him. His mother had demanded justice, her fury manifesting in the blade she had wielded against Rhaenyra and her brood.

Still, Aemond had tried to be brave. He had stood tall in the Hall of Nine, declaring, “Do not mourn me, Mother. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

It had been true, and yet the truth did little to comfort him now.

The divide in their family had widened, and Aemond knew where the lines had been drawn. He was on one side, and Valaena was on the other.

The thought of being apart from her—truly apart—twisted the knife in his heart.

The soft creak of a door interrupted his spiraling thoughts. Aemond turned his head slightly, just enough to see a familiar figure slipping into the room.

“Valaena,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I don’t have long,” she said softly, closing the door behind her, “but I had to check on you.”

He turned his face away from her, his voice bitter as he muttered, “You shouldn’t be here. Leave me be.”

Valaena crossed the room and knelt beside his bed. “I will never leave you, Aemond.”

“You should.” His voice cracked. “You’ll do well to stay away from me. I’m nothing now. Just a scarred monster.”

Valaena reached out and took his hand. “You’re not a monster,” she said firmly. “You’re brave. And that scar—it shows you’re a survivor. Vhagar chose you because she saw your strength.”

Aemond hesitated, then slowly turned his face toward her. His visible eye glistened with unshed tears. “How can you stand to look at me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Valaena smiled gently, her eyes soft. “Because you’re my Aemond. And you always will be.”

Her words unravelled something inside him, and his lips trembled as he smiled faintly. “You saw what happened last night,” he said. “How can we-how can we still be friends after this?”

Valaena’s hand tightened around his. “Because we’re more to each other than that.”

Aemond's chest ached at her words, a mixture of relief and longing. “I don’t want to be alone again,” he admitted quietly.

“You’ll never be alone,” she whispered. “I will always be there for you.”

Valaena leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft and lingering, her warmth melting through his pain.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were tinged with pink, but she held his gaze, steady and unwavering.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “For defending me.”

“It’s okay,” she replied softly.

Aemond then let out a huff of laughter, a shadow of his usual confidence returning. “I did it,” he said. “I claimed the greatest dragon alive.”

Valaena’s face lit up with a small smile. “You did. I’m so proud of you-”

Her words struck something deep within him, a warmth stirring in his chest that he hadn’t felt before. No one had ever said they were proud of him—not like this.

It filled him with a quiet joy, a sense of belonging he’d never known. For the first time in a long while, he felt truly seen.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps and voices in the corridor drew their attention.

Valaena glanced toward the door, her expression regretful.

“I think I have to go. I’m not sure your mother would like me being in here.”

Aemond nodded, his heart sinking. “You’ll still write to me, won’t you?”

“I will,” she promised.

Before leaving, she pressed another kiss to his lips, fleeting but full of feeling.

Then she slipped out of the room, leaving Aemond alone once more. But this time, the emptiness didn’t feel quite so suffocating.

She was still with him, in her own way. And that was enough. For now.

Valaena sat in her chambers, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her gown as she stared out the window. The sea breeze ruffled the curtains, but she barely noticed.

It had been weeks since she last heard from Aemond, and her worry had grown unbearable.

The thought that he might no longer want to be her friend gnawed at her heart, leaving her feeling hollow and uncertain.

A soft knock at the door broke her reverie. She shot up from her seat, her chest tightening with anticipation.

“Come in!” she called, her voice breathless.

Maester Gerardys entered, his robes swaying as he carried a sealed letter in his hands. “A letter for you, Princess,” he said with a warm smile.

Valaena practically darted across the room, taking the letter from him with trembling hands. “Thank you, Maester”

“It is my pleasure, Princess,” he said with a slight bow. “When you have a response, come and find me in my chambers, and I will see to its delivery.”

“I will,” she promised, her voice steady despite her pounding heart.

The Maester left, and Valaena closed the door, turning the letter over in her hands. She recognized Aemond’s handwriting immediately, though it was not as neat as usual.

Anxiety twisted in her chest as she carefully broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

Her eyes scanned the words, her heart sinking with every line.

Aemond’s neat script had turned to a shaky scrawl.

He apologized for the delay, explaining that he had suffered a bad infection where his missing eye had been.

The Maesters had eventually been forced to remove the eyelid, leaving the wound even more exposed and painful, and his scar itchy.

He wrote that he had spent most of the past weeks dosed on milk of the poppy, drifting in and out of consciousness, and that his recovery was still slow and excruciating.

He also mentioned the headaches that plagued him now—sharp, debilitating pains that made even the smallest movements unbearable.

But amidst the pain and despair, he thanked her for the handkerchief she had stitched for him, saying he treasured it deeply.

Valaena’s hands trembled as she lowered the letter, pressing it to her chest.

Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of him enduring such agony. She wanted nothing more than to be there, to sit by his side and soothe his pain.

Her mind raced as she clutched the letter. There had to be something she could do.

Perhaps Maester Gerardys could create a salve to help with his scar, or at least provide some comfort.

If not, maybe there was something in Dragonstone’s extensive library—a book, a recipe, anything that could offer a remedy for his pain and headaches.

Yes, that’s what she would do. She would go to the library and find answers.

Valaena carefully folded the letter and slipped it into her special hiding place beneath her bed—a small box where she kept Aemond’s letters and other treasures she held dear.

Then she hurried to the door, determined to help him.

As she stepped into the corridor, she almost collided with Luke, who was running toward her, grinning.

“Valaena! Come play with me!” he said, his voice full of eagerness.

She froze, her expression hardening. “No,” she said coldly, sidestepping him.

Luke’s face fell. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to,” she said sharply, not stopping to explain.

The truth was, she couldn’t look at him without seeing Aemond’s face—the blood, the pain, the tears.

Luke was her little brother, and a part of her still loved and cared for him, but the anger she felt toward him had not yet faded.

She hated him for what he had done, for the harm he had caused Aemond, who had done nothing to deserve it.

And though she knew forgiveness was supposed to come in time, she wasn’t sure it ever would.

Pushing past Luke, she hurried toward the library, leaving him behind with his crestfallen expression.

Her focus now was Aemond. She would find something—anything—that could ease his suffering.

He needed her, and she would not fail him.

TBC